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425 Van Buren Street, Monterey, CA 93940, U.S.A.
Telephone: (831) 647-4154; Fax: (831) 647-3519; e-mail: cres@miis.edu
What would an American consumer think of a shampoo named "Louse and Go"? One can only imagine what that would bring to mind. But for the personnel at Moscow shopping centers, "Vosh end Go" sounds fine. Foreign brand names are commonly transliterated into Russian, but not everybody is good at it. "Vosh" in Russian means "louse", and only a linguistic exercise can recreate original name of the shampoo – "Wash and Go."
Advertisement is a powerful engine of trade, and care must be taken when transferring commercials, advertisements, and posters to a foreign country. What may work in Europe or the United States could turn into a nightmare in Africa or the Arab world. Western companies have found that Russia is no exception to this rule.
In the early '90s, it seemed that advertising would not be a complex problem in a country where the population had only one brand of the toilet paper (in limited supply) and where the slogan "Fly Aeroflot" was meaningless because Aeroflot was the only airline, anyway. This assumption proved true for some goods, especially for disposable diapers and Coca-Cola. In other cases, Western producers had to take a careful look at the specifics of the Russian market. Even giants like Procter and Gamble, being well versed in advertising on many continents, were not able to avoid gaffes in the Russian versions of the commercials for their products. For example, such an innocent product as "shampoo and conditioner in one bottle" became "shampoo and air-conditioner in one bottle" simply because the Russian word "konditsioner" meant only "air-conditioner" and nothing else before the free-market era. Imagine a puzzled Russian consumer who tries to figure out what the relationship between shampoo and air-conditioning is, and whether it meant freon-enriched shampoo.
The cases are numerous. The problems with advertising foreign products are not only associated with translation, but also with semantics of the Russian language. Literal translation or the use of foreign words instead of the proper equivalent may not only mislead customers but elicit anger, hurt feelings, and dirty jokes. Many Russians are annoyed and offended by frequent interruptions in popular TV programs and movies for foreign commercials, especially those that are awkwardly worded or have too many foreign words. As one elderly woman puts it, "Forty years ago we enriched the English language with such words as 'cosmos' and 'sputnik', but now they litter our language with 'Tampax' and 'sex'. What do you think the millions of pensioners here, who lack money to buy bread, think of pet food advertisements?"
Problems with foreign products advertisement, though, go much deeper. In the early '90s, foreign products often did not meet standards established during the Soviet period, sometimes 20 or even 30 years ago. The real value and quality of imported merchandise was less important than their ability to meet GOST (the state standardization system) criteria. Revisions to these standards, however, were not always made in the name of quality and consumers' rights. Quality control was not too strict either.
Many Russians tended to take everything they saw in commercials at face value, and expected the highest quality for a moderate price. Several decades of first-hand experience had taught them that imported goods were of higher quality than the limited assortment of Soviet-made stuff on half-empty shelves. In the eyes of younger consumers, many domestic brands were discredited by the years of Soviet abuse. In the beginning, the enormous Russian market eagerly absorbed nearly everything, and some foreign producers started to believe that this situation would last forever.
Thus, some foreign firms concentrated on exporting cheap merchandise, flooding the market with very poor quality goods, some with no redeeming characteristics. Most of these products came from China and other developing countries, although European countries also tried to sell off substandard merchandise. In the West, this approach would have damaged the manufacturers' and traders' reputations, and maybe even affected the media’s willingness to advertise such products, but in Russia it worked.
Other firms concentrated on luxury goods for the "New Russians" at prices well above those in fashionable Paris or New York shops. For example, US-made cars sold for 20-50% higher than US prices, to be paid up front and in full. Once two men came to a Moscow Ford dealership, each wanting a Lincoln Continental. The salesperson regretfully informed them that they had only one available and said that whoever came up with the money first would get the car. One man returned half an hour later with a suitcase of dollars and was the lucky winner.
The misperception about the limitless market for both top-of-the-line and substandard products backfired on foreign companies. After the financial meltdown of August 1998, demand for high-priced luxury products declined precipitously. At the same time, consumers became more sophisticated and choosy.
In the last several years, consumer advocacy organizations, clubs, and magazines (analogues of Consumer Reports) have started to appear. They now play an increasingly important role in shaping the public attitude toward advertising by uncovering and challenging unfair practices and even filing lawsuits. The emerging middle class that constitutes the bulk of consumers has become better educated and less trustful.
In other words, do not hope that "louse-friendly shampoo" will be selling for long in Russia.
A. Petrov
January 31, 2000
Moscow
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Center for Russian and Eurasian Studies
Monterey Institute of International Studies 425 Van Buren Street, Monterey, CA 93940, U.S.A. Telephone: (831) 647-4154; Fax: (831) 647-3519; e-mail: cres@miis.edu |