Make the Transactional Fun: How Volkswagen Uses Joy to Drive Brand Loyalty
Explore how Volkswagen saw the highs and lows of brand reputation, from "Dieselgate" to strategic marketing campaigns with a focus on fun.
The controversy heard ’round the auto industry
The triumph that paved the way
The staying power of the mesmerizing TV spot
Enter the magic marketing genie
In communications, “capeesh” is king
Volkswagen knows a thing or two about brand appeal. Founded in 1937 as an affordable car for the average German citizen—“volkswagen” literally translates to “people’s car”—the company evolved into a global automotive giant. Over the course of the intervening eight-plus decades, the manufacturer has navigated considerable triumphs and controversies, all of which have significantly impacted their reputation, for better and for worse.
This is a look into how VW rode its highs and rallied from its lows. For starters, they took their mistakes seriously and deliberately positioned the company to both address and counteract the negative press. What’s more, they understood the anatomy of their former brand successes and suspected that tapping back into the uplifting, emotive energy underpinning those big wins would eventually overshadow—or rather, outshine—the damage that had been done. The key rule of thumb central to VW’s counteractive campaign efforts: make it fun.
To fully understand the landscape VW had to navigate to avoid the crushing blow of blatant customer deception and resurrect those fun-forward brand appeals, let’s start with the bad news….
The controversy heard ’round the auto industry
The emissions scandal of 2015, dubbed “Dieselgate,” is one of the more memorable modern automotive controversies. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) discovered that Volkswagen had installed “defeat devices” in its diesel vehicles to cheat on emissions tests; inarguably, a major catastrophe for the brand. The vehicles’ real-world Nitrogen Oxide (NOX) emissions were in fact 40 times higher than U.S. standards permitted. Having owned one of these vehicles at the time, a Jetta TDI—purchased in large part due to an environmentally-fueled desire to get better gas mileage while running exclusively on biodiesel—made this news especially uncomfortable for me personally.
Considering the egregiousness of the scandal, not to mention the barrage of media coverage that followed, it’s impressive that VW has managed to right its standing in the automotive marketplace. If you’d asked anyone back then with the slightest bit of skin in the game, they would have said recovery was implausible at best. But Volkswagen surprised us all. After Dieselgate, the company formally apologized for the deceit that had so conspicuously and thoroughly breached consumer confidence. Then they doubled down on their commitment to manufacture new cars that would be markedly, measurably, and legitimately healthier for both the environment and the people who drove them.
As a long-time VW loyalist, that ambitious strategy tracked, harkening back to an earlier era when Volkswagen was synonymous with pathbreaking positivity.
The triumph that paved the way
Six years before Dieselgate in 2009, VW’s launch of its Fun Theory Campaign planted the company firmly at the triumphant end of the brand spectrum. It was a stroke of marketing genius fueled by behavioral science research that asked what might motivate people to do the right thing for the planet and themselves, like putting trash in the proper bin or choosing to take the stairs instead of the escalator.
The idea jibed with the company’s original civically minded ethos and coincided with the rollout of BlueMotionTechnologies, which debuted in 2006 with the Polo Mk4 and again in 2007 with the Passat equivalent. BlueMotion Golfs, Tourans, and Sharans were subsequently released in 2008. Most models built after 2010 feature some elements of BMT tech, which boasts a 10 percent reduction in fuel and emissions: “the perfect embodiment of Volkswagen’s goal to be the most responsible and innovative volume car brand in the world.”
The BlueMotion call-to-action—“Think Blue”—hints at a new way of doing things. This message aligned perfectly with The Fun Theory campaign, which was, in essence, a study in behavioral science. It aimed to inspire people to participate by submitting unstaged videos “testing” the theory. The winner received €2500 (about $3,700) for “proving” the theory. This promotion-disguised-as-a-contest resulted in some very clever curiosity experiments that monitored people’s interactions with their everyday surroundings when an element of those surroundings had been noticeably changed.
The Piano Stairs is a standout. This experiment, conducted in Odenplan, Stockholm, poses the simple question, “Can we get more people to use the stairs by making it fun to do?” On a stairset leading from street level down to the subway, the Swedish Fun Theory team installed giant piano “keys,” both the white and black ones, wired to sound when stepped on, one note for each step. They set up a hidden camera to observe how people interacted with this unexpected alteration of an otherwise utilitarian public space.
The experiment not only resulted in an impressive 66 percent more people opting to use the stairs; it also changed the nature of their comings and goings. Instead of moving routinely, hurriedly, or absentmindedly from street to platform, platform to street, people paused, cocked their heads, nudged their neighbor to take notice, and ultimately adjusted course. Some took the time to jump from key to key, even skipping steps entirely, to try out a rhythm or attempt to play a song. One person, dressed for work in a collared shirt and tie, grabbed a second person wearing a dressy blouse and heels to help him perform “Chopsticks.”
The study’s indisputable conclusion: “Fun can obviously change behavior for the better.”
The staying power of the mesmerizing TV spot
In 1999, a decade before the Piano Stairs, Volkswagen debuted a television ad campaign titled “Milky Way” to promote the new VW Cabriolet serenaded by the dulcet tones of the late Nick Drake’s “Pink Moon.” The scene opens on a warm summer night, a silver Cabrio coasting along a bridge over moonlit water, wind in the hair of its beautiful passengers who gaze contentedly at the sky, peepers chirping in the trees—youth and freedom personified, or rather, commercialized. When the wind-touseled kids pull up to the party, they glance at each other meaningfully and opt to skip the rowdy scene for some more dreamy driving, top open to the stars. Volkswagen Fun, 1; Teen Debauchery, 0. When the “Drivers Wanted” tagline fades in at the end, the target under-30 set is practically itching to sign the dotted line.
It was an emotional bombshell, tapping into the nostalgia surrounding VWs of yore (we all remember the Beetle, the lovable Herbie in particular, that “little Bug with a big personality”) while at the same time courting a younger generation of drivers seeking independence, liberation, something a little extraordinary, that statement-making cache of the vintage made new, and, yes, plain fun. The ad was a marketing sensation. Even Rolling Stone weighed in, claiming the commercial single-handedly launched Nick Drake’s career to heights he never experienced while alive. Based on the subsequent best-selling re-releases of his formerly panned albums, they were right.
How fun creates for-lifers
What’s most remarkable in light of these commercial throwbacks is that even Dieselgate couldn't dislodge VW from the place it holds in many consumer hearts (including mine, as evidenced by my latest car purchase: a 2023 SEL R-Line Tiguan). The viral Fun Theory and chart-topping Milky Way campaigns that came before still remain at the forefront of consumer consciousness, tethering car buyers like myself—those willing to stick with the brand even through an ugly scandal rooted in misinformation and lies—to the brand for life. I think it’s got something to do with the good feelings the Piano Stairs dancers and Drake’s “Pink Moon” stir up in me even now. And these good feelings, of course, dovetail nicely with that distinctive civically minded ethos VW has been gunning for since the beginning.
But how does this happen? Do happy feels and wit really have the power to impact behavior? According to 55 percent of ad executives polled, humor captures attention better than no humor, and 72 percent said it attracts buyers to new products. The Piano Stairs proved that a little humor goes a long way to sparking behavior change. The Milky Way campaign catapulted the idea that fun could equal simply riding in a VW convertible. In subtly different ways, these sister marketing strategies leaned heavily into the idea that humor sparks joy, and joy sparks affection, and affection translates to brand loyalty in the blink of an eye—or the tap of a foot or a glance at a moon, as the case may be. And brand loyalty is what you need to resurrect a product (in this case a car) from market oblivion.
To put that resurrection in perspective, Dieselgate was, according to Forbes Magazine, the largest and most expensive scandal in the history of the automotive industry, clocking in at a cool $30 billion in fines and damages. It sent VW into a virtual death spiral, made altogether worse when VW officials were caught lying in an attempted coverup, resulting in the CEO’s resignation. A year later in 2016, VW formed a Sustainability Council populated by former politicians, a UN executive, an environmental regulator, a union representative, a Red Cross executive, and a panel of academics in relevant fields. The goal: to help the embattled company transform itself into “a world-leading provider of sustainable mobility.”
Some expressed concerns that the Sustainability Council would devolve into empty greenwashing lipservice. Then again, if one of the world’s largest car companies could actually commit to building zero-emission vehicles—and in the smelly wake of an epic emissions debacle—other auto giants may follow. All in all, a huge win for corporate climate change action.
However it went down, VW’s new leadership knew that it was imperative to make a clean break from their now tarnished diesel-centric strategy and fully embrace zero emission vehicles. But perhaps most critical to their brand redo was the rigorous and systematic incorporation of ethical practices across its workforce.
Enter the magic marketing genie
For all those glass-half-full types out there, VW’s return to justice is a story of corporate accountability. The three-quarters-full folks might go so far as to call it a redemption. (The Forbes article cited above, “From Emissions Cheater to Climate Leader,” would subscribe to that view.) Volkswagen’s latest ad campaign promoting the Electric ID. Buzz, dubbed “A Life Half-Full,” really drives this message home. The company has worked hard to restore its brand authenticity and trustworthiness, and the Buzz feels like the culmination of all that hard work. The branding channels that pre-Dieselgate joy-hype, with not-so-subtle echoes of the carefree Cabrio days and the toe-tapping era of the Piano Stairs.
(I predict a comeback of the car-naming trend so popular with VW Bus owners of yore! And I would have predicted some wildly goofy tongue-in-cheek marketing scheme had the brand’s sponsorship of the Saturday Night Live 50th Anniversary Special—a veritable monument to hilarious brand association—not beat me to it.)
The Electric ID. Buzz commercial soundtrack literally asks, “Are you having any fun? What you getting out of living? Who cares for what you got if you’re not having fun?” When an ad campaign asks you point blank whether you’re enjoying life, it kind of reminds you—whether you want to admit it or not—to make sure as hell that you do. And the buses’ bright, two-tone design paired with the bright, two-tone landscapes gets a notion in your head that one of these vehicles just might help you get there. With ads this fundamental and compelling, it’s almost as though an invisible marketing genie is floating up out of the screen, crooning, This is it—the car that will make all your wishes come true!
I haven’t folded yet because, for a four-person family with two cars, buying a third would be extravagant and irresponsible. Although, this one is electric and wouldn’t tax our gas budget…. Then the ad jingle intones in my mind like a spell: “Why should you work and save and save? Life is full of ifs and buts. Even squirrels save and save, and what have they got? Nuts!” You’ve got a point there, magic car genie. “Better have a little fun!” she prods, “you ain’t gonna live forever. So while you’re young and gay, still okay, have a little fun!”
Then there it is again, that classic Volkswagen one-two punch with the fade-in tagline floating in the bus’s breezy open window: “Once you see life half-full, it’ll never look the same.” Better bolt and triple-lock the rainy day fund. Emergencies only, people! But isn’t needing more fun in your life its own kind of emergency? The singing VW genie thinks so. In our heart of hearts, consumer pragmatism notwithstanding, we have an inkling that she’s right.
In communications, “capeesh” is king
The folk quartet Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young wrote this lyric back in 1969—the Age of Aquarius and The Beetle and the Vietnam War—an extraordinarily charged cultural moment when civil disobedience meant demanding clemency, peace, and free love:
If you smile at me
I will understand
'Cause that is something
Everybody everywhere does in the same language
There’s something to that. As marketers, we’re effectively vying to speak the same language as our audiences—or at least a language they can understand. Volkswagen, maker of the car of the people, has been trying to speak the language of your average Joe since the beginning. The Fun Theory, Milky Way, and Life Half-Full campaigns appeal to your average Joe’s sense of curiosity, freedom, and fun as well, while leaving those irritating emissions smears in the dust.
Adding to that average Joe appeal, VWs are good, versatile cars: sturdy, well-built, not too fancy, but not cheap either, and generally speaking, they’re affordable. Their engines run well, and they rumble when they accelerate, racecar style. At the most basic level, it feels good to drive them. It may sound strange, but my sporty R-Line Tiguan makes me want to be a better driver, too—a driver that knows how to operate her vehicle with efficiency and finesse, and who smartly adheres to the rules of the road, without being the least bit dull. (Cue: my own private “average Jill” ad soundtrack.)
That’s The Fun Theory in action, and its effects kind of creep up on you, like a mini ah-ha moment: “Why do I love my Volkswagen—and the Volkswagen brand—so much? Oh, because this is a fun car!”
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