From this January onward, the Hive writing team produces a monthly review on a key text. First in the series is the 2011 Pulitzer non-fiction winner – a vivid biography of humanity’s  greatest mortal dread.

At the conclusion to his extraordinary history of cancer, Siddhartha Mukherjee, an Indian-born, US-based cancer specialist, posits that ‘as the fraction of those affected by cancer creeps inexorably in some nations from one in four to one in three to one in two, cancer will, indeed, be the new normal – an inevitability. The question will not be if we will encounter this immortal illness, but when.’

That Mukherjee’s book is so compelling isn’t due solely to the drama of the story he tells, but because he is alive to the efficacy of art as well as science. ‘Normal cells are identically normal,’ he writes, ‘malignant cells become unhappily malignant in unique ways.’ His repurposing of Anna Karenina’s opening line is more than a rhetorical flourish: it’s indicative of the intelligent and illustrative way he approaches his material. Like all well-executed ideas, the question it raises is “Why hasn’t anyone done this before?”

The Emperor of All Maladies follows cancer from the palaces of ancient Persia to the R&D campuses of modern pharmaceutical companies. The majority of the story, however, takes place in the mid-to-late 20^th century, when increased life expectancy in the western world saw the prevalence of cancer skyrocket (in third world countries cancer doesn’t even make the top 10 causes of death).

Mukherjee’s story centres on two figures who defined the post-war struggle against cancer. Sidney Farber was a paediatric pathologist who became the father of chemotherapy. Mary Lasker was a wealthy socialite and fearsome lobbyist who believed that if enough money was aimed at it, cancer could be vanquished. In 1971, after nearly 20 years of their campaigning, President Nixon declared the ‘War on Cancer’: legislation that devoted millions of dollars in federal funds to finding a cure.

Farber and Lasker’s achievement was of mixed worth. ‘Cancer,’ Mukherjee writes, ‘a shape-shifting disease of colossal diversity, was recast as a single, monolithic entity’. Scientists competed to find cures, theories of prevention were all but non-existent, and misguided treatments such as megadose chemotherapy did more harm than good.

Mukherjee’s recreation of the ambitions, disappointments and, occasionally, triumphs at each stage of the fight against cancer is one of his book’s greatest achievements. He successfully places the reader in whichever era, lab or ward he describes. He also renders cancer itself in a way that’s both horrifying and gripping. Of leukaemia he writes, ‘Its pace, its acuity, its breathtaking, inexorable arc of growth forces rapid, often drastic decisions; it is terrifying to experience, terrifying to observe, and terrifying to treat.’

The book’s final section is its most optimistic and most complex. Harold Varmus and J. Michael Bishop won the Nobel Prize in 1989 for proving the link between cancer and genes, which led to the subsequent identification of many oncogenes (genes with cancer-causing potential). ‘Having wandered in the darkness for decades,’ writes Mukherjee, ‘scientists had finally reached a clearing in their understanding of cancer. Medicine’s task was to continue that journey toward a new therapeutic attack.’ This came with development of drugs such as Herceptin, which targets an oncogene in a particular type of breast cancer.

But Mukherjee is too knowledgeable about cancer to be swept up in an optimism that has, time and again, proved false. Other gene-targeted therapies like Herceptin and Glivec may emerge over time, but that’s a forecast quite different to the ‘cure for cancer’ that has been dreamed of for so long. ‘This War on Cancer,’ he cautions, ‘may best be “won” by redefining victory.’

Mukherjee says the idea for his book was hatched when a patient asked him the simple question, ‘“What is it, exactly, that I am battling?”’ His answer, all 500 pages of it, is fascinating, depressing and exhilarating, and his writing on lung cancer is so affecting that, after 24 years of smoking, I haven’t had a cigarette since finishing the book six weeks ago.

Have you read this book? We’d love to have your comments.

In recognition of the difficulties young cancer patients face, eyeforpharma are hosting their first annual Mobile Health Competition. Applicants must submit an idea for a phone application that will help teenage cancer patients manage their condition and make their lives easier. To help pick the winning idea eyeforpharma have created their very own super panel, comprised of teenage cancer survivors and charitable bodies.

The competition is open to anyone working for a pharmaceutical company, advertising agency, healthcare organisation, as well as patients themselves. The winner will have the opportunity to develop their application and see it launched. They will also win $5,000, which they can donate to a cancer charity of their choice.

The Teenager Cancer Trust, PatientsLikeMe, LIVESTRONG Young Adult Alliance, and a host of other charitable, patient, and mobile specialist companies have partnered with eyeforpharma for the competition.

Here at Hive we welcome any initiatives aimed at improving patient care and engagement, so we urge you to get involved and spread the word.

The closing date for entries is January 3rd 2012. 

http://www.eyeforpharma.com/mobilehealth/

So how do you motivate men to maintain their health? Or, even more challengingly, how do you get them to check for prostate, bowel and testicular cancer before they’re extremely sick? In 2008 prostate cancer was the second most common cause of cancer death in men (10,168 deaths), accounting for 12% of all male deaths from cancer. Colorectal cancer caused 8,758 deaths in men in the same year, accounting for 11% of all male cancer mortality.

The Male Cancer Awareness Campaign (MCAC) is trying to get more men to take a maintenance approach to cancer by educating them on how to detect early stage symptoms. The campaign is about cancer, but it’s also about culture. In addition to providing specific information, it also aims to reduce the embarrassment that surrounds men’s attitudes towards their health.

While MCAC has created some great campaigns, such as the Near Naked Man, they recently created a viral video that makes checking for cancer sexy. JWT London teamed up with world famous photographer Rankin and model Rhian Sugden to create a video that goes a little further than your run-of-the-mill cancer campaign.

The black and white video is intimate and elegant, and the ending might just leave you stunned. It’s a smart little video because it takes what some might find embarrassing or uncomfortable and makes it seductive. I’ve already sent it on to most of my male friends, and while their reactions have been mixed none of them failed to mention it when they next saw me. And many of them, in turn, have forwarded it on to their friends.

The ad’s executed so well that if I were a man, it would make me want to put my thumb and index finger between my balls and massage them—to check for cancer of course.

The day progressed with a number of small uni style briefs, with few restrictions and constraints but a whole lot of scope – lovely! The aim here being to get us back into that early mindset we all use to have, before the commercial world took a firm grip and creative expression became more of a challenge to channel through all the rules, regulations and pressured clients!

Our final task of the day presented us with a mop and bucket and the brief headline Work, Play and Rest! A mop and bucket already works, so it was how I reflected the latter two aspects in my creation that would be assessed. My solution is pictured above.

Being a kid for a day again was truly inspiring. Tapping back into that freedom of expression was really refreshing, and is something that I’ll be aiming to do a lot more often!

The route to audience, their community of relationships and the purity of our crystal clear, brainstormed messages is under threat. We are midst a revolution, a chance to throw it all in the air and start again. This is a Darwinian moment; those that are adapting fastest will top-trump the dinosaurs. Our ability to do new stuff is now a competitive advantage not a dangerous countercultural diversion. It’s the Wild West all over again, except with worse shoes.

Why idea?

The point of having an idea in communication is straightforward. Ideas are bread and butter to marketers. They seek to be different, striving to connect a product with a defined audience. Find a point of difference, make it come to life and get it delivered to an audience that stands some chance of impacting your bottom line.

Secret ad men

In the days of old, lunches lasted until way past 2.30pm, golf was cool, procurement focused on toilet rolls and agencies had loads of sex. This approach was fine. Ads were king. They ruled. Despite the environment changing the ad as first port of call for ideation has proved a tough, tenacious little sucker to bump off. Despite this tactic proving incredible restricting when looking for broader ideas.

It’s a shame to say that secret ad men still surround us. We still see ‘the ad as the primary brand communication’ touted all over the place. For some it’s an attitude that’s retarding our progress as communicators and as plan makers. We have moved on. Those consumer-focusing guys who piled into healthcare a while ago seem to have ignored the changes that have occurred to their old manor. TV is midst decline and that poster off the M4 has been augmented by permission based and experiential disciplines; by a channel mix that looks nothing like it did 10 years ago.

Not dead just suffering

I don’t want to consider this the death of the ad. I think it’s in manageable decline rather than on the floor choking. History tells us media don’t die, they just become increasingly unloved. After all, we do still carve words into stone, 1000 years after it was our dominant media. But as soon as we considered the requirements of the marketing mix more than the double page spread the end started. Those early days, when marketers, sought integrated campaigns and assessed them by whether all shapes and sizes of tactics spread out on a meeting room table matched or not, make us smile now. Was it all really about 4 key messages and a frequency calculation?

The beginning of the end

The beginning of the end saw agencies strive to find new terminology to cope with the changes. The birth of the horrific word; adcept, summed it up. A sticking plaster over the cracks in the idea generation landscape, a way of getting ad focused teams to come up with bigger ideas than the media booked was capable of holding. Without spilling the beans that their ‘precious’ is looking a bit sickly as the dominant tactic.

Stretch required

Perhaps our world doesn’t need another tweeting digital bore. But the proliferation of channels have done their bit to jump start evolution. One could argue that the evolution of direct mail, or sales forces could have contributed as much to this decline as digital. The ad man didn’t really grasp the requirement for the brand to be pushed into these spaces in a way that it could really work.  Why? Because what makes a great ad – doesn’t often make a good media neutral idea. The interaction that these channels require and the opportunity that they have is vastly different to a 4 second A4 connection required in the BMJ. So why use your lowest common denominator tactic to develop you idea?

It strikes me that to accuse digital of being the cause of this evolution is a bit naïve. Selling has continued to evolve at a startling pace taking in its stride the bicycle, penny post and TV. Digital although arguably more intangible, and certainly fast is not going to change the fundamental way people connect with brands. Humanity is the rate-limiting step. The need and ability to form relationships is cultural and hardwired. The way audiences assimilate attributes, experience and value remains. You could argue that brand strategy has finally caught up with humanity?

The rise of experience transparency

What digital has changed is the control we have as marketers over our messages. We are no longer the only ringmasters. Every customer we have has a platform to communicate their experience, they, are closer and more vocal to other prospective customers.  Consequently we better get our brands anchored in something more than abstract positioning. Ideally anchored in a defined idea, encompassing a need that can be supported and championed by the audience. If our views on the product and the audiences don’t match then it’s going to die. Regardless of the cunning uniqueness of the positioning.

They’re for the journey

To thrive we need to be bothered about our customers not just at point of decision but across a broader space. This means our idea has to work beyond the moment of customer acquisition. It’s not just about a tipping point. We need to make sure that the wider customer experience is known to us. If additional needs exist, we need to see them as service opportunities. Consider them part of our product offer lest they become the low point of our customer’s product experience.

Change the people, or change the people

Thankfully, most of the adcept touters have fallen by the wayside. A new type of creative has emerged – the integrated conceptualiser. Not just an ad award hungry beast but also someone who is as passionate about every opportunity along the customer’s journey. One that knows the ins and outs of channels, how each works and what elements of the story is best delivered in each. These guys are dead easy to spot. They don’t need to draw an A4 box on their pad before conceptualising. The idea is conceptual, not confined to a given media space.

Idea planning

To cope with this change, new forms of idea planning have sprung up. New models force us to consider ideas as an adhesive wrapper for our uniqueness and supporting messages. With this have come some of the most exciting aspects of strategic development. The onus has been placed on marketers to consider their product story, the channels available to them, and deliver it. For products with a package of differentiation rather than one clear superiority this is a huge advantage. We can tell more complex stories and as long as they are based on real need not conceptual space available all is well. Models that look at splitting the story, and delivering it the audience in chunks across the channels are exciting us hugely. And its getting to the stage where you can quite easily see a time where the complete brand story exists only in two places; in marketing and in the mind of the customer. In between it’s fragmented and efficiently distributed by the best channels available. The level of planning is adding a further dimension to brand strategy where implementation and strategy are blending. Creating real challenges for those that consider 4 key messages delivered 4 times to be the best guarantee of behavioural change and early adoption, and really messing up a world where ads come first then your tactical plan.

How we cope with the changes is the next big question.  If you want to embrace these exciting times, like any moment midst change, it’s best to find a partner who is comfortable to tell you that all the answers are out there, but not yet in our grasp. Work towards a real connecting story, ways of delivering it efficiently and be comfortable with informed risk.

Tim is one of the founding partners of Elf, a group of innovative healthcare agencies. Including Hive, Ebee and Pollen that launches in September. Tim blogs regularly at hivehealth.com spend most of his time at Hive partnering a pretty awesomely progressive set of client’s. Any enthusiasm for this article or offers of work should be sent to tim.scorer@hivehealth.com, corrections or points of difference can be made direct by email to ian.busby@hivehealth.com or in person to Jas Hummel.

My bugbear with these multi day extravaganzas is with the foundation icebreaker sessions. This is more rant than thought through critique. (I am sugar rushing from some charity cake from brought over by the guys at The Nursery)

Surely we all get paid to attend, think and deliver. Surely we all consider it a default to work within a team, even an unfamiliar one. Whether that be off the cuff or after permitted thought. At no point is the voicing of ideas, public thinking and discussion considered god given, it’s not easy or natural for anyone. But it is a paid for requirement. The day job.

I increasingly struggle with the rationale for;  sharing the content of my wallet, climbing through imaginary tires, providing public facing previously unknown facts and almost feigned cardiac stress prior to a ‘colleague’ shoulder massage.

Are we all caught up in the entertainment aspect of this lunacy? This initial agenda item is slowly morphing from a simple required introduction into a corporate versions of Big Brother. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next meeting started with us all having to milk a boar. It’s getting a bit unnecessary.

You can’t manufacture or facilitate intimacy, if anything this can achieve the opposite of what’s required. Strangers soon become partners once you are midst a task. Is it unreasonable to consider human beings a social species?

As we haven’t had a poll in a while I though I would take this to you our reading public.

It’s not often that poetry smacks you in the face, seeks an ethical and moral review on your activities. Not since Pam Ayers Battery Hen has something felt this powerful (I was 7 and midst egg mayonaise sandwich).

I chucked this at a group of us last night to discuss in place of a training session on the Value Profit Chain. The crowd were mixed from the ‘it’s just not that simple crowd’ to the ‘our duty is to provide value not just proliferate useless products’.

We do market products to people often in crisis. But are we the target of this poem? It’s important for all of us to be able to hold our head high. I think that consumerism relies on creating needs that aren’t often real needs but manufactured wants. But that this categorisation often differs by person and it much more complicated than the puppet paranoid would have us believe. In this poem the mum sits centre of a manipulative environment, powerless and stupid. Whilst the corporates sit dangling the bright and shiny like fisherman at a trout farm. I am not sure that I am quite to this level of paternalism, or to this confidence in the simplicity of this situation. The mothers I have market researched have all been a little more street wise than this. Capable of identifying commercialism and opportunism. Understanding and rationalising their sometime irrational need for more into a bucket of first time mum stock piling? Or to a reaction to the basic human need to prepared pre chaos. In a capitalist world this means buying stuff, often irrelevant stuff. But acting on impulse.

This cynicism has to be answered by us as individuals. For me it means basing everything we do on a tangible human need, not just a superficial fear driven want. Am I naive? Basing what we do and how we drive genuine value, and maintaining consumer partnership at our core allows me to pass a personal test.

An interesting discussion prompted by creativity and passion.

We finished our session with tactical speed dating. Quick fire selling, demo’ing case studies that answered a question from the brief. We all left buzzing, having met everyone in the session in a more intimate setting and got to grips with some of the team’s specific issues. Emma’s Dynasty style ipad demo, Jas’ meeting in a box Russian doll, Ian’s Guess Who game and Kate’s NICE guidance documents lift challenge all led us to a much richer interaction.

It has been interesting seeing how each of us tackled demonstrating. It’s not really in the typical agency skill set, those of us who have sold stuff door to door  (Ian – paintings, me Pentium II chips) relished the chance to get down and dirty. The rest of the team spanked the task, stretching creativity and storytelling to the max. Some of the lessons learnt were;

• Keeping to 7 minutes is tough when the kitchen timer is split into indistinct minutes
• When cutting out hermit crabs in foamex you need loads of scalpel blades
• 6 boxes with ribbons are really hard to tie in a hurry between ‘dates’
• £90 buys you a very sexy demo film if you know where to go
• When stuck for a concept steal from your kids
• Presenting repeatedly makes it smoother (running counter to the ‘never fully rehearse’ a pitch before the day rule)

Two newsworthy events from last night: one, I got injured. Two, I attended a do-shop run by the Young Creative Council: how to brief in illustration. The story unfolds thus.

I am not very young, but a mere stripling in the wider creative world, so I cleave to such opportunities with gusto.   The YCC was established by advertising students from the London College of Communication. These guys have no funding but plenty of pulling power with local agencies. They teamed up with production house Jelly London, who described their process and dazzled us with an excellent reel.

Then we assembled in small groups and bent to our task: creating a TV ad animation from a radio script for Twinings tea. No objective, no strategy, no target audience – all had to be surmised from the script.  The picture was a familiar one:  the things people do things differently across the planet. In China you start the day with a bland gruel, in Russia you’d prefer to be gently whipped awake with thin branches. In the sensible UK you naturally hit the kettle. Could Twinings make this concept as refreshing as a morning brew?

Tea is fundamental.  All our funny little rituals show people are fundamental too.  We pored over a scrapbook of illustration styles, wanting to parody these urbane rituals as simple, endearing – uniting not dividing. Humanity appeared as line drawn animals in suits. Perfect:  we build cultures but we’re also just animals in clothes and we need looking after. Give us sustenance, give us tannins.

We’d need a panda (China), a black bear (Russia) and a bulldog. (I preferred a fox.) The style would be simply a linear slide through the characters with the steamy cuppa as finale. Honesty, it was more exciting than described. Hey, genius doesn’t come for free.

The Jelly people did the rounds, helping out with execution. I want to be a storyboard artist! The speed, the ease!  Our stuff was liked and encouraged. I took a break to sip a beer on Cavendish Square. Unfortunately I sat on a chair that was covered in broken glass. I punctured my thigh in two places and began to bleed vividly.  I decided to avoid group alarm by transporting my injury quietly home. I’m cool like that. Plus I needed a Rooibos.

Your client’s the fussy customer at table 10. You’re the rushed off-your-feet waiter. The creative’s are the chefs, sweating away in the kitchen. Your customer is mulling over their order and the clock is ticking. And the place is heaving. Anxious to please, and to serve everyone, you suggest the cod. It’s quick and easy and tastes OK, but you know it’s nothing special. You take the order to the kitchen. The chefs, also anxious to please, suggest a wonderful lobster instead. You go back to the customer with their inspired thinking. The customer, mind and wallet now firmly set on the cod, gets all uppity. You tell the chefs to forget the lobster. They get all uppity. You’re caught in the middle.

As usual.

The hasty suggested and pre-determined order isn’t necessarily the best solution. It could also be a missed business opportunity. Perhaps we could start by holding back from suggesting anything until we’ve had a think, and a preliminary chat with the team back at the agency. Yes, it becomes less about process, more about ideas. And everyone contributes. After having our think, and our chat, we can ask the client the kind of questions that make them think too. The client feels more engaged. A tighter brief ensues, which the client feels part of because we get them to sign it off. When we brief the creative’s, we know we already have some client buy-in, and a firm grasp of the issue. Our informed enthusiasm brings the brief to life for the creative’s, who work harder to conjure something special. We feel a greater sense of ownership of the ideas, which we push with added confidence, knowing the client’s half way on board. Working smart like this, Hive thrives. We gain a reputation for questioning, probing and challenging clients, in all the right areas and for all the right reasons. We give clients what they need rather than what they want. The creative work stands out. Better still, it works. We operate more as a consulting partner than as a supplier, adding value to our services and satisfaction to our days. To make this happen we need two very different hats. The first is our day-to-day hat. It’s for the day-to-day work that will never get us anywhere near a podium. The second is our ‘client wants fine dining’ hat – our creative and strategic thinking cap. These hats are very different, and require very different skills. We need both in equal measure. And we need to seize every opportunity to wear the second hat.

Share the Chef’s hat. The waiters might be out front with the customers and the chefs back there in the kitchen, but they’re all in the same restaurant, working together to give the customer the best dining experience they can. There’s no ‘them and us’, no ‘master and servant’. You get my drift.

One couldn’t function without the other, and vice versa. Creative’s aren’t the only ones who think creatively, just as the Account Handlers aren’t the only ones who think strategically. It’s a team thing. We’re all working together to serve up the best work.

When chefs are asked to prepare a special meal for someone they don’t know, the first thing they do is find out what that particular person likes and dislikes. They then think carefully about how the food should look, smell and taste, in order to appeal to that person, and how they want the person to feel throughout the dining experience. In this way, great chefs ‘become’ their diners.

At Hive, we have to keep remembering that the person we’re preparing the dish for IS NOT our client. A fundamental difference. So fundamental, it’s why clients use creative agencies.

It’s time for us all to get creative in the kitchen.