My Struggle with Facebook Addiction

Not a Teenager, But a Senior

William Sundwick

In Aldous Huxley’s novel Brave New World (1932), the World State exercised control over its population by administering a “soma” drug to them. It was a psychoactive drug, producing states of euphoria, and general happiness. It was addictive, and the state monopolized its distribution.

Substitute the amorphously managed “Internet” for the World State, and Facebook, a publicly held corporation in Silicon Valley, could well be the administering entity for soma in the 21^st century. When Mark Zuckerberg invented the social media platform at the beginning of the century, he built it around the idea that people universally wanted to be liked. They would always respond to positive feedback. Much like B.F. Skinner’s rats, they would continually come back to press the lever for more pellets of reinforcement.

If Zuckerberg could package content in such a way that his customers could share it, with some chance of positive intermittent feedback, he might build a giant marketing machine from his platform. Some think the idea sprang from his own personal need to be liked. He was incredibly successful. But, Facebook may have discovered a darker side to its success, as well. Apparently, users are just as likely to come back for more feedback from feelings of anger or sadness as from more conventional “feel good” vibes. The recent controversy over “fake news” planted by Russian intelligence operatives is an example.

It turns out that intermittent reinforcement is a very strong motivator, regardless of the emotional content of the initial behavior. Add the clever opportunities for self-expression on the Facebook platform, and you have the makings of a serious psychological addiction problem. Some studies have even shown physiological changes in subjects that use social media platforms extensively.

When social media are used for active self-expression, it appears that people’s mental health may benefit. Those who post and comment more on the platform are often happier than they were before Facebook. But, passive scrolling through news feeds and over-use of reaction emojis are mostly associated with greater levels of depression and poorer mental health. Also, comparative behavior tends to promote feelings of inadequacy, and perceived social isolation – Instagram is especially bad here -- but, all those shared Facebook photos of happy families and status updates about vacation adventures don’t help.

Facebook does allow you a high degree of control over what you see in your feeds. It would be worthwhile for any heavy Facebook user to explore the updated prioritizing tools for news feeds. You do determine what you see, and you can block things you don’t want to see. Close friends’ posts are now always prioritized ahead of anything commercial. Some say Facebook gives you too much control over news – leading to insulation in bubbles of like-minded screeds.

My own predilection for expressing myself in writing, even short quips in a comment, strikes me as a positive interaction with the platform. Is it really interaction with my friends, though? I sometimes ask myself, “does anybody care?” Of course, the intermittent feedback is largely to blame here. For my part, I try to react to anything my friends post that I feel expresses themselves well – but, there’s a judgmental quality to this. I intentionally fail to react when I do not feel they are expressing themselves well, or when I’m simply not interested in the content they are sharing. And, of course, I impute similar judgement calls to their reactions, or lack thereof, on my posts. Hence, I fall victim to the comparative trap that supposedly haunts teenage girls. Am I not good enough, or clever enough, to be interesting to my friends? Or perhaps to some friends, but not others? And, I’m 70 years old!

A disclaimer is warranted regarding my peculiar usage of Facebook. None (or few) of my friends are people with whom I have a day-to-day relationship IRL (In Real Life). As my immersion in the platform has grown, some friends are mere friends-of-friends whom I’ve never even met IRL. This does not fit the profile of the beneficial social capital some users gain from the platform. It appears that my social media avatar is literally the only me that my Facebook friends know. This is probably not a healthy social milieu! It’s acting. It’s a personal fantasy of who I want to be. Does it smack of narcissism?

With all these potential negatives, it may seem wise to take a break from the platform now and again. You should consider this when Facebook grows boring, when it seems too commercial, when you see too many news feeds whose authenticity you doubt, or when friends’ posts are too closely connected to their personal lives – and not you! 

Breaks can feel good, allowing you to “recharge.” Facebook even facilitates blocking feeds from certain sources (“hiding” them, or “snoozing” them for 30 days if they just get too intense). You can always “unfriend” people (highly recommended for exes), and all these things can be undone when you want to jump back in. Limiting your feedback to others also serves a purpose: I never pick fights, and often refrain even from giving positive feedback when I fear it might spin out of control (discussion groups are notorious for that). Purposeful restraint in use of reaction emojis and making comments can sometimes increase your control over Facebook’s algorithm, too. The platform keeps the details secret, but if you’re good, you may even be able to beat Facebook at its own game.

Dealing with the withdrawal symptoms is best handled by increasing your IRL interaction with people – try email for folks too far away to see in person. Facetime and Skype? For self-expression, try writing a blog (like me), or art? music?

And, do a reality check on that Facebook avatar – it’s dangerous when you start believing it yourself. Don’t delude yourself into depression because you can’t get the feedback you crave. It’s just narcissistic supply, after all. Since you invented the avatar in the first place, you can always tweak it as necessary. Once you focus your self-expression needs on real creativity, it may be time to re-enter the social media world – cleverness and effort should get you more positive feedback. Use Facebook to feel better about yourself, not worse.

There are plenty of tools provided by Facebook (and Twitter) allowing you to take control of the platform, if you’re willing to use your agency. Nobody needs to be a Facebook addict – the platform is not smarter than you! You are your own soma.

Read again, post from last month: "History's Greatest, Cruelest Levers of Power - Wars"

Flirting: Fun? Cheating? Harassment?

It’s Really About Power

William Sundwick

Recently, we’ve all been subjected to a barrage of celebrity sexual malfeasance, both in politics and entertainment, men are caught in truly heinous instances of sexual abuse and harassment. It appears that nothing has changed about men’s awful behavior, but more women are now emboldened by their sisters, and the media, to come forward and name their abusers.

We can choose to hang a political/ideological banner on some of these acts, or we can choose to play a self-righteous “traditional virtue” card on others. Whichever fits, we’ll use it to blame those disgusting Republicans or those disgusting Hollywood types. Unfortunately, the evidence tends to support that the same behavior exists everywhere – not just in these high-profile celebrity arenas.

One of these recent revelations, involving comedian Louis C.K., is slightly different. C.K. did not attempt to deny the accusations, but instead wrote a letter of apology – saying he “asked” for consent from each of his accusers. This highlights a salient feature of civilization going back thousands of years: established patriarchal power relationships. C.K. wielded power over these women, as a prospective employer, or key to their future careers in comedy. He flagrantly abused that power to humiliate and demoralize the women. Patriarchy is bigger and runs deeper than any of us is aware – even such an astute observer of the human condition as Louis C.K. 

An Orgy of Self-Examination

Any “feminist manifesto” needs all the help it can get to begin manifesting change in the culture. If you’re a man, it’s admirable for you to join the fight, but ultimately, you must own the culture. You are a beneficiary of patriarchy as much as women are victims.

Many of us have been indulging in an orgy of self-examination lately. Will any good come from this? Honesty about physical attraction is good, since physical attraction tends to perpetuate the species. But, we also have egos. We all seek, to varying degrees, what psychologists call “narcissistic supply.” Some of us never seem to get enough. And, it’s often collected in a setting of power over the opposite sex – partners, employees, students, people we meet randomly.

We flirt. We flirt when we are single, looking for a mate. We flirt when we are married, thinking we can get away with it. We flirt to test whether we can obtain consent (even if we don’t pursue it). And, we hope we can still justify our behavior to ourselves when the flirtation ends. We do it because it’s fun. We play the game because there is some chance of reward – if we’re good at it. If we’re good at it, the object of our flirting will also feel good.  The narcissistic supply flows in both directions, we tell ourselves.

But, does it? One of the most insidious aspects of patriarchy is that power relationships between men (the aggressors) and women (the victims) make resistance impossible in many cases. Consent cannot be reasonably given when the initiator and recipient of the exchange inhabit very different power positions. It’s easy to determine consent between two people with power differential near zero. They are free actors. Not so much between superior and subordinate, between star and aspiring entertainer (Louis C.K. case), between customer and server. All these unequal power relationships can transform flirtation into harassment. Large age disparity is another unequal power dynamic (Judge Roy Moore and his teen-age “dates”). Even among peers in an office environment, the requirement to always smile and be kind to your coworkers is an imposition of power relations in the workplace.

That Libido

Our libido makes us choose what feels good. Narcissism makes us insensitive to how our actions cause someone else to feel bad. And, an unequal power relationship may prevent an honest answer about how a flirtatious advance makes the recipient feel.

Not everybody is equally narcissistic. Some people are saints. But, look who we elected President. Narcissists often appeal to us. They can relieve us of responsibility for our response. Flirting takes advantage of this – we can “play along” with an advance rather than anxiously guessing about intentions, because we have no expectations. We relax and enjoy the attention!

Flirting was invented as a socially acceptable way of expressing physical attraction for another. But, whether it is acceptable to the recipient of an advance is another matter. Most people, including his victims, would not consider Louis C.K.’s advances socially acceptable. But, what could they say to him? Would they shrug it off? Would they pretend to be amused? Flattered? How would they hide their shame?

But, some flirting clearly DOES make the recipient feel good, doesn’t it? Aren’t we all susceptible to flattery? Doesn’t it feel good to be the subject of attention from an attractive member of the opposite sex (or same sex, depending on your orientation)? What about attention from someone you’ve always admired? What about that flirting game? The jockeying for dominance between two people in not obviously different power positions can be a source of amusement -- like any competition against a worthy opponent. Superior social skills, correctly guessing the other’s intentions, before they guess yours, give you an advantage. And, it’s not necessarily a preordained advantage based on patriarchal rules. “Toxic masculinity” is usually a disadvantage in this game, but there is also the risk of being subjected to “slut shaming” by peers.

Courage is needed to withdraw from a flirting game that turns abusive. It won’t do you any good to continue playing as if it’s still an innocent diversion, when it turns into harassment – as it often does. Standards of public decency supposedly make it easier to withdraw from some situations, but the aggressor may know this, and use outward appearances of innocence to his advantage. Clearly those standards did not work to extricate Louis C.K.’s accusers.

Eyes of the Beholder

If flirting becomes harassment, or cheating, it is usually in the eyes of the beholder. It is harassment if the victim feels diminished, or shamed. It is cheating if the victim is a third party – a spouse/partner. The interpretation of flirting as cheating depends, again, on the power relationship between the flirting partner and the apparent victim partner. The victimized partner may call out the other’s actions as cheating, or suffer silently, building resentment as the aggressor partner persists in the behavior – much as the victim of harassment feels diminished, but can’t complain because of unequal power distribution. There could be another approach, of course -- acceptance and mutuality. If each partner understands the other’s personality, and both engage in the same kind of behavior, mutual acceptance could result. That may work in cases of relatively low power differential between the two partners. If not, best to modify your behavior, and stop flirting!

Finger-pointing is common among partners when it comes to flirting. But, it’s worthwhile to remember that self-righteous accusations and distrust reveal one’s own narcissism. Usually, the more outgoing partner is likely to be on top in the power differential. The more introverted partner will not be as successful at flirting. This may cause envy more than jealousy. Which end of the narcissistic power balance are you on? Are you “the greatest,” or the “worthless piece of crap”?

Don’t Hide

All flirting, if it is ever benevolent, as opposed to malevolent, relies on some degree of honesty. While true that overt intentions are purposely hidden in the flirtatious exchange, it’s important that the initiator and responder both come to an agreement – eventually – about what is happening. Flirting should not be hidden forever. Of course, the flirtatious relationship will come to an end when the “truth” is revealed. This is the way it’s meant to be. It may end when the spouse finds out. It may end when one party to the flirtation finds they are no longer collecting their “narcissistic supply” from the relationship. It may end when it just gets too uncomfortable for either party to continue – when they cannot deal with the honesty required! This is the inherent risk of all flirtatious relationships. They must end sometime. When flirting while single, the hope is that the relationship will lead to a deeper partnership – the flirtation may transform into a marriage. When flirting while married, the hope is that it is ended responsibly, before any damage to the marriage occurs. When flirting from grossly unequal power positions, the hope is that both parties can still respect each other, and themselves, when the relationship ends.

When the “truth” of the flirtation becomes known to both (all three) parties, and they are honest with themselves, some self-examination of motivations may be in order. There’s never anything wrong with learning about yourself. Apologies may also be in order – these should be honest, too.

But, flirting is way too common, and life too short, to flail yourself forever because you didn’t handle the denouement as adroitly as you might have.

History’s Greatest, Cruelest Levers of Power – Wars

And, How Morbid the Fascination

William Sundwick

Why So Fascinating?

Power is an intriguing study. It’s not an overstatement to say that history is all about exploring the exercise of power by different peoples in different times. Politics is power, and Carl von Clausewitz said, “War is the continuation of politics by other means.” His assumption was that nations would always pursue power, by politics and diplomacy, then when those fail, by war.

This was the world of feudal barons and princes, of nation states, of empires. It has been a driver of history from ancient times right through the twentieth century. Even in the 21^st century, we see ethnic groups and non-state actors resorting to organized violence for achieving political goals. And, some nation states still occasionally threaten their neighbors with war (North Korea, Iran?).

Great nations and empires aspire to control much larger expanses of territory than lesser nations. Alfred T. Mahan and Halford J. Mackinder gave us theoretical frameworks for imperialism, based on world geography, around the turn of the 20^th century. Like Clausewitz’s depressing philosophy in “On War,” their theories emphasized power and global hegemony (for further discussion of geopolitics, see my post from last May, “The Russian Bear and 21^st Century Geopolitics”).

Later historians have addressed the role of technology in wars. Again, domination in the field, leading ultimately to strategic ends, was the aim. In the twentieth century, both world wars seemed to support the thesis that victory in those titanic struggles belonged to the side that mastered the superior technology, and marshaled their economic resources to get it into the field. Not the most elegant plans, nor even the quality of the fighting men, that supplied the decisive margin in the world wars, but successful application of muscle.

So, for the student of history, exploring the role of wars is inescapable. Their study will always reach beyond the basics of “telling a story,” and touch politics, economics, engineering and physics. Military (and naval) history is the best way to bring all these disciplines together, through the lens of geography. Not all history buffs are so motivated, but some of us could not escape the morbid siren call of war, at least in our youth.

The Perfect Tool – Table-top Combat Simulation

My first exposure to commercial table-top simulations of military operations was in junior high school. A publisher in Baltimore had devised some fun board games and distributed them nationally. They used maps for the playing board, cardboard punch-outs for the playing pieces (representing combat formations), and relied heavily on probability (dice rolls) to resolve “combat” encounters between aggregations of opposing pieces. This was Avalon Hill Games, Inc. Its “Tactics II,” laid out on my bedroom floor, was an occasionally enjoyable pastime with friends – but, it became an obsession for me!

It was ahistorical, but loosely based on modern military tactics and formations. It was my very first exposure to any of this knowledge. There were armored divisions (designated by a bathtub symbol with two “Xs” on top), infantry divisions (a rectangle inscribed with a large “X”), airborne divisions (same symbol as infantry but including a small gull wing icon on the bottom). The map board was an idealized landform with mountains, forests, rivers, roads, and cities – including an island which could be reached only by bridge from the mainland, or with airborne forces. Movement of the playing pieces (“units”) was over a square grid, and the terrain features conformed to this grid. All playing pieces had weighted “strengths” indicated on the piece, and varying abilities to move over the grid, depending on terrain. Combat between opposing units was resolved against a “Combat Results Table” which determined 6:1 odds to be uniformly overwhelming – probability of success declining as odds got lower.

This simple abstraction of military engagement in the twentieth century became the basis for a much more complex line of games from Avalon Hill, and another company in New York, Simulations Publications, Inc. (SPI). Both game publishers indulged in historic re-enactments, “future history” conflicts only imagined (cold war clashes), and idealized tactical combat from different times and places in history. Some SPI games became monumental efforts. The grandest I attempted was “War in the Pacific,” which sought to provide a vehicle for the most dedicated gamers to re-fight ALL of World War II in the Pacific, from 1941-45. Its four large maps required a leaf extension and

plexiglass base for my dining room table. The map grids had long since replaced squares with hexagons (enabling orthogonal movement of pieces). The simple “CRT” with odds expressed as ratios of strengths, was now replaced by multiple probability tables for different types of combat, elaborate logistics rules and procedures, not only accurate orders of battle for army units, but actual warships – identified by name – and all the aircraft types present in theater! I played one entire Pacific War campaign – it took over a month of meeting daily (in the evening), never being able to eat at my dining room table for the duration.

By its peak in the early ‘80s, SPI had produced a powerhouse of historical data, good writing (not only complex game rules, but historical commentary in its two magazines, Strategy & Tactics, and Moves). They provided a unique opportunity for players with no technical expertise to engage in a pre-computer form of decision science. It was all rather advanced. But, in the end, not profitable – hostile takeover by the publisher of “Dungeons & Dragons,” and SPI’s ultimate demise came in 1982. Avalon Hill survived, but diversified into computer games and children’s titles, as a subsidiary of Hasbro.

Lessons Learned

Table-top wargames produced insight into history, risk and probability, geometry, and world geography. Rather than simply reading others’ interpretations of history, I could act out the drama in three dimensions (two-dimensional map plus time). My favorites were games that allowed for envelopment and breaches of defenses (Avalon Hill’s “1914” and “Stalingrad” – or anything dealing with World War II on an operational and strategic level), games featuring limited intelligence (naval games were good at this – Avalon Hill’s “Bismarck” and “Jutland, or “Battle for Midway” by another publisher, Game Designers Workshop), and games that emphasized strategic availability of assets attenuated over time (“War in the Pacific” or “War in the East”).

Beginning with that primitive “Tactics II” when I was fourteen, and lasting until I finally gave up, as an adult (quit playing when I got married), I learned about battlefield tactics, the influence of weapons technology (especially when a new technology changes the battlefield environment), and the importance of intelligence (most games provided far too much intelligence – not enough “fog of war”).  The role of decision theory, and the analysis of data, became a theme in my later life as I moved from the world of librarianship into information systems at the Library of Congress. Books, including combat narratives and after-action reports, morphed into tables of data, file structures, and vectoring. Gaming was a useful intellectual activity as the digital age began.

Who Did This Stuff?

As I entered adulthood, living on my own, still single, it occurred to me that the other devotees of table-top wargaming were a strange lot. They were all male. They were young and single, like me. They had no social life to speak of. As a socio-cultural group, they had some diversity of education, but all were white. Some were young professionals (often federal employees, including one CIA analyst), but many were less educated – blue collar types. Some had military backgrounds, but not all. I met no engineers, or anybody with a STEM educational background. They were all under the age of 35. And, there were no women, a serious drawback.

As I got older, with family responsibilities, and more financial resources, my orientation gradually changed. I began pursuit of graduate studies in an area inspired by those games -- systems analysis and decision sciences, computer information systems. The military history interest began to fade. Strategic Studies during the cold war continued to be a reading interest, but there simply wasn’t the time to spend hours and days playing complex table-top simulations.

Pacifism – When Young Men Grow Older and Wiser

My fascination, morbid or otherwise, with the study of power exercised by nation states ultimately ended shortly after the Gulf War of 1991. This military adventure seemed such a flagrant display of U.S. national hubris that it almost looked like an effort to expend surplus cold war military equipment! The final deployment of the Navy’s Iowa class battleships was the perfect illustration. It was as if A. T. Mahan was finally being interred, 100 years after writing “The Influence of Sea Power Upon History.” A moral imperative was now replacing the imperial imperative, in my mind. Nation states weren’t what they used to be – no more titanic struggles of opposing ideologies (Soviet Union: gone). Avoidance of war now seemed the primary goal of all advanced nations’ foreign policies. The march of history was clear. George W. Bush marched the opposite way with his invasion of Iraq in 2003, but otherwise it looked like the peacemakers had finally won the day.

Global capitalism may have been the foundation of this sea change in history. There were no significant national interests overriding the interests of multinational corporations. Their interest was profit, and profit meant trade, free from the uncertainties caused by war. There continued to be some asymmetrical conflicts, notably between the U.S. and various non-state actors (Al Qaeda and ISIS), but non-intervention by the larger nation states outside their own regions would be the rule. Russia may be an exception here, but she is primarily concerned with former Soviet states on her periphery.

And, that is the moral imperative, discovered only after spending the formative years of my life studying the cruelty waged against fellow humans in the name of power. War is simply wrong. Why waste one’s days studying it? “Neither shall they learn war anymore.”

Selling an Old Name to a New Demographic

Cadillac’s “Break Through” Campaign and the GM Malady

William Sundwick

Picture, if you can, the typical Cadillac of the 1990s. It was probably a De Ville or Fleetwood Brougham. Big, posh, a veritable land yacht. There was the elegant little Allante sports car and, by 1999, the Escalade truck, but nobody at Cadillac had discovered how to market these aberrations to the Florida retirement community consumer, the demographic best understood at the time.

Cadillac needed to discover younger buyers – boomers in their fifties, not the retirees of the “greatest generation” purchasing what might be their last car. The target customers were buying BMWs, Volvos, Mercedes, then Audis. Why? There were many reasons, but marketing was a big one.

General Motors was, indeed, beset by some deep structural problems in the nineties. Fixed costs (both labor and capital equipment) were eating into profits. And, a series of strategic decisions beginning in the sixties had the effect of hollowing out the engineering pool needed for product innovation. Reorganizations, especially the BOC-CPC structure of 1984 (Buick-Olds-Cadillac/Chevrolet-Pontiac-Canada), exacerbated the decline of both quality and engineering creativity.

But, it was the gradual disappearance of its traditional customer base that was the Cadillac brand’s specific problem – it was an actuarial issue. Cadillac buyers may have been drawn to the brand going far back into their collective memories. But, frankly, they were dying off. The affluent younger greneration in their fifties and early sixties, whom Cadillac needed, was underwhelmed by Cadillac’s “standard of the world” slogan, dating from the 1910s. The Cadillacs they saw now belonged to their parents’ cohort.

Boomers were getting press in the nineties and aughts because they seemed to have a very different ethos than the generation before them. They were cast as a “Peter Pan Generation” –  refusing to grow old even in middle age. They were attracted to the edgy, the independent, the counter-cultural. Their classic rock music had stuck, their fitness fetishes caused gyms to sprout on every corner, and women were now as likely as men to be in the appropriate economic strata. These led to clear preferences for smaller, more agile, cars. Many boomers were now reaching the level of personal financial resources that Cadillac marketing was pursuing.

Enter the “Break Through” campaign – its first TV spot was at the 2002 Super Bowl. Rumors had been circulating in the advertising world of an undisclosed princely sum that Cadillac had paid for the rights to a 31-year-old Led Zeppelin song, “Rock and Roll.” It became the centerpiece for an advertising campaign that would last five years before it was finally pulled. There were several TV commercials featuring the song, which became indelibly associated with Cadillac, even among those aficionados who knew the song previously.

The new, naughtier, image that Cadillac was trying to create was not all smoke and mirrors. GM revamped the product line in serious ways – with the small CTS sedan, an entirely new platform for the larger STS, and in 2003, a Cadillac “Corvette,” the XLR.

Both Robert Plant and Jimmy Page thought the licensing terms fair. It was the first song they had ever licensed for a TV commercial. It may have been the first time ANY song from the “classic rock” period was licensed for a TV commercial.

There were other fronts in the campaign besides the music and TV commercials. The automotive press was regaled with track competition for Cadillac models (last seen when Cadillacs competed at Le Mans in the early fifties). The CTS-V, with its supercharged Corvette V8, was dubbed “world’s fastest production sedan” after besting all competitors around the Nurburgring Grand Prix circuit. Indeed, it set a record for lap time at that German course in 2008.

More of the edginess theme could be found in the well-publicized preference among professional athletes for a Cadillac truck – the Escalade. Escalades became synonymous with African-American “bling.” All these things -- the music, the racing, the urban flash – helped boost Cadillac 2003 sales figures by 16 percent.

Cadillac was beginning to reacquire some of the panache those of us old enough to remember the fifties had formerly associated with the make. Too bad for GM that the rest of their lineup didn’t receive equally successful marketing campaigns. Oldsmobile, for instance, died with a whimper at about the same time – its “not your father’s Oldsmobile” campaign had fizzled a few years earlier.

Was it the cars, or was it just that music, that brought Cadillac success? Let’s look at the cars. Compared to Cadillac’s competitors at the time, BMW clearly had the greatest following, and prestige.  Lexus was a little stodgy, Audi was yet to hit its stride, and Mercedes was sharing BMW’s strength with a slightly older demographic. Lincoln was already a non-entity as a competitor. The BMW customer was the “Break Through” campaign’s target. Cadillac’s CTS sedan was intended as a 3-series killer, the STS was squarely aimed at the 5-series, and the DTS would continue to aim at the geriatric crowd (and some Mercedes models). Escalades were aimed at an American high-end urban demographic, not averse to trucks – a market never penetrated by the Germans or Swedes. Volvo still made most of its sales in its lower end models (more Buick than Cadillac?). Lexus saw itself straddling that demographic, too. For the first time in recent memory, Cadillac’s lineup seemed competitive.

Teutonic engineering and style was what Cadillac tried to copy. The precision, the authority, the innovation, styling that was solid, yet sleek, and a sterling reputation for quality. These were BMW’s claims to leadership in the luxury segment. Unfortunately, the paucity of engineering talent at GM forced Cadillac to settle for marketing an image of engineering innovation, and revamped styling,. The reality was still lacking – speed, as in the staged Nurburgring event, would have to substitute for solid engineering.

 The initial boost from the campaign began to wane after the first year. There was a second Super Bowl commercial in 2003. The scene was a New York subway train with advertising posters for Cadillacs from the fifties as the train moved through time to today, and through the windows we could see the current Cadillac line. It may have been too urban-oriented for the Zeppelin sound track. Nevertheless, Cadillac stuck with the campaign, and the music, until 2006. It was succeeded by the “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit” campaign, with more of a country flair. But, that campaign was less successful, perhaps due to a lack of affluent buyers in the target demographic.

The urban orientation seen in the 2003 spot was a signal that future Cadillac marketing would become much more focused on the upper-middle-class professionals who live in large metro areas. It was probably inspired by the continued success of the Escalade and the growing concentration of wealth in cities.

So far, however, this new focus has not paid off. Cadillac sales are again in the doldrums. Perhaps moving Cadillac brand HQs to New York’s soho neighborhood will inspire new strategic thinking. Except that nobody in New York buys cars!

Is the corporation the problem? Could it be that General Motors just can’t decide where Cadillac belongs? GM market share has been increasing over the last couple years, but no thanks to Cadillac – it’s seems mainly driven by Chevrolet now, and newer crossovers from GMC and Buick.

GM’s 2009 bankruptcy forced another realignment. The “new GM” would be much leaner, freed from onerous UAW contracts, and could raise up some bright young engineering talent within its ranks. The new focus would be on technology – both manufacturing and car design. It’s noteworthy that plug-in hybrids and all-electrics are now being developed by GM faster than anybody else in the U.S. market except Tesla. Cadillac, for its part, is seeking to unveil a more extensive semi-autonomous driving package than any other domestic make. Coming soon.

The new marketing target for Cadillac is Generation-X. They are as different from their boomer parents as the boomers were from their parents. Gen-Xers still value independence and edginess, but are less concerned with social status than their elders, more pragmatic. They are less easily intimidated by group pressure. And, they are financially less secure than their elders – worrying about how to pay for their kids’ college!

All this may lead them to make more conservative choices in cars. A new marketing campaign for GM’s luxury brand could be a serious challenge for that old Cadillac crest. We’ll see if the current urban focus is the correct one.

 What We Drove, and Why

One Family’s Car Culture, GM Style – 1950-1970

(Sundwick Automotive Photo Library, Part IV)

William Sundwick

We were not a typical family, even for Dearborn or Flint. Dad was a committed General Motors “lifer” – a salaried engineer, destined by the end of his career to be at the top rungs of “plant-level” management. We were required to own GM products; it was a moral responsibility.

And, we had to change them frequently – advertising, of sorts. The family corporate discount on new cars probably didn’t exceed 20%. So, my dad took a bath when he traded every year. Surely, his salary wouldn’t compensate for that. He felt he had the civic obligation to visibly promote the General’s products.

My earliest car memory dates from the summer I turned three. I have a distinct image imprinted in

my deepest consciousness, unsupported by a family photograph, but reinforced by my father when I described the scene as an adult. It’s an image of a sunny day, me walking out the kitchen door to see a new shiny green 1950 Chevrolet in the driveway. I remember the detail of the chrome grille and bumpers, I remember that it was a trunk-back “Styleline” two-door sedan (as opposed to the “Fleetline” fastback body style). Yes!” exclaimed my dad, “that was our ’50 Chevy!” Why do I remember it? Mysteries of early cognitive development, I guess.

Perhaps the reason it was not recorded in the family photo album is because it was not a particularly remarkable event. It was just another new car – even then, when Dad was a relatively junior engineer at the Detroit Ternstedt plant (GM’s “hardware” division), he traded cars every year. Each was indelibly recorded in my mind’s eye, even as they were just routine for my parents.

I remember our upgrade from Chevrolet to Oldsmobile in 1952. The rationale was that we were planning an ambitious road trip to the Rocky Mountains that summer. Dad felt he needed V8 power to climb the mountains in Wyoming, where we had plans to stay at a “dude ranch” there (a popular tourist destination in those days). That ’52 Olds 88 was the least expensive V8 in the GM line, a two-door sedan like the previous Chevys (no sporty “hardtops,” or even white sidewalls, for my father’s spartan taste).

Moving from Dearborn to Flint in the Summer of 1953, shortly after the F5 Beecher tornado laid waste to a big swath of the latter, I found myself in alien territory. It felt like the “frontier.” Our new construction house was in a development on the edge of town, lacking sidewalks or even paved streets at first. We packed our belongings into another spartan two-door, a 1953 Chevy “210” series. It was two-tone brown, and would be my mother’s car for an unprecedented seven years. In Flint, we needed two cars for the first time. My mom needed to get out into our new community. We had relatives there – but, Mom had bigger plans. She was going to college! The local junior college (now called Mott College) expanded to become the Flint branch of the University of Michigan.  She would be in its first graduating class, 1960. As a part-time student she needed a car. That ’53 Chevy was it for the duration, nearly six years.

Dad meanwhile was assuming increased responsibility at the new Ternstedt plant on Coldwater Road. It would join many other GM manufacturing centers around the city. There were Buick “city” on the North side, and old “Chevrolet No. 1” on Chevrolet Avenue (dating back to the very first Chevys, in the teens). Fisher Body No. 1, almost as old, and scene of the famous 1936-37 sit-down strikes which gave birth to the UAW, and the halcyon days of the American labor movement. There was AC Spark Plug on the eastern edge of town, where my uncle worked in sales (also the workplace of Flintoid Michael Moore’s father).

 But, GM was engaged in massive expansion in fifties Flint – in addition to Ternstedt, there was the Van Slyke Chevrolet complex, which doubled or tripled Chevrolet capacity over old No. 1. It included the legendary “V8 engine plant” – hallowed ground for American car buffs.

Flint was rapidly becoming a “real city” – at first, the explosive population growth seemed to have no limits, but eventually dark clouds began to gather. By high school my entire cohort vowed never to return to Flint after college. We thought it a city without a soul.

Climbing the GM corporate ladder – even at the plant level – required symbols of authority, so my

father bought a succession of five Cadillacs in the mid-fifties. Their main purpose was to park in his reserved space in the plant’s lot – “Mr. Sundwick, Process Engng.”  But, they were also comfortable fun for our annual summer road trips. We traveled to Wisconsin (Mom’s family), New England, the Upper Peninsula (more Sundwick relatives); and ultimately, California in 1958, the last Cadillac.

To emphasize the utilitarian nature of these otherwise ostentatious rides, Dad selected entry level “62 Coupes” – they had whitewall tires by this time, but little else. There were roll-up windows, no A/C, no automatic headlight dimmers on the dash. The one exception was a 1956 Sedan de Ville, a four-door “hardtop” with power windows and power seat. Still no air (it was Michigan, after all).

At age 49, Dad suffered a serious heart attack, in the fall of 1956. His career path was truncated, since he was now a health risk for the corporation. He accepted the lowered aspirations by figuratively raising his middle finger – no more Cadillacs after 1958 (though he claimed reliability problems with that ’58 disenchanted him). Indeed, we sold that last Caddy, and replaced it before the end of the model year with the very lowest priced, “stripped down” Chevy one could buy – a back-to-basics 1958 Delray two-door. He drove it to work and parked in that same reserved space. What did people think? My mother registered embarrassment at neighbors’ inquiries. I was mortified, too. In 6^th grade, however, few classmates knew much of our family.

When we visited Washington, D.C. for our next summer road trip, we had already upgraded to a new ’59 Impala 4-door hardtop (called a “Sport Sedan”). And, it did have whitewalls! 

Frugality was becoming a theme in our family. College savings may have begun to weigh on my parents, despite Mom’s new job as a high school English teacher in Flint’s “suburbs.” We kept the ’59 Impala for another year, and a trip to New York. Finally, now that my mom was supplementing our income, we replaced her old ’53 Chevy -- with a funky little black Corvair sedan. This was a truly curious car. 1960 was the first year for Corvair, it had an air-cooled “pancake” rear engine like a VW! It did have white sidewalls. That low bar seems to have finally been crossed.

As I approached driver’s license age, both Mom and I wanted to recover some neighborhood social status. The result: my dad reluctantly agreed that our next car would be an Impala convertible – our only convertible ever! With my learner’s permit in the glovebox, it bothered me only slightly that it was my mom in the passenger seat when I tooled around the neighborhood with top down. The bright yellow ’61 had a white top, camel interior, and

not only whitewalls, but full wheel covers, rear antenna, and bumper guards! Yes, my dad was weakening. I even convinced him that power windows were a practical necessity with convertibles.

My dad drove the Corvair to work.

As the sixties progressed, we gradually moved up the GM product line again, but no more Cadillacs until my parents retired and moved to Florida following Dad’s second coronary. In 1962, it was another Olds, ten years after the previous example, then a Buick LeSabre, and a 1964 Pontiac Star Chief (our first car with air conditioning, despite summer road trip that year planned for Toronto and the New York World’s Fair). 

In 1965, we bought a truly sporty bright red Corvair Monza coupe with white vinyl interior (we were a two Corvair family for one year – Mom’s 1963 beige Monza was my high school choice for dates).

By the time I graduated from Flint Central High School in 1965, I had acquired a used 1956 Pontiac Chieftan 4-door hardtop, justified by my job as managing editor of “The Arrowhead,” the high school newspaper. I needed to zip around town during the day collecting advertising copy from local businesses. Mom needed her car for school in the “burbs.”

It was off to college in Kalamazoo the following fall. No car (not allowed for freshmen). My parents bought a pair of 1966 Buicks to celebrate my leaving. One for my dad (a stately Electra 225 sedan) and one for my mom (a midsize Skylark coupe). I enjoyed the Skylark when home on break – its

diminutive 300 cu. In. 2-bbl. V8 seemed surprisingly peppy (worth one speeding ticket).

That would be my final Flint fling, except I came back to visit Flint once as a college senior, with my girlfriend, in the graduation present from my parents -- a ’69 Opel Rallye Kadett (yellow with black bumblebee stripes and interior, flat black hood panels, husky 4-speed manual transmission, tachometer, and fairly potent 1.9- liter overhead cam four).

During their Florida retirement, the parents had drifted back to Cadillac. Coming full circle with a gold 1968 Coupe de Ville. It was huge. I drove it once or twice on errands. Giant 472 cu. In. V8, but I could hardly see the end of the hood in front of me when driving. I wondered if you could land aircraft on its deck!

For me, my parents’ life in Florida was increasingly remote. I moved to the Washington area in 1971 for grad school at College Park. I stayed here; they stayed there. Until I brought my mom up here, to a nursing home, when she was in the terminal stages of Parkinsons. She died here in 2007.

I have no recollection of driving any of their succession of Cadillacs and Buicks (there were several) after 1970. And, my choices in transportation were governed more by practicality than advertising or social status.