a riveting story

Even in our supersaturated plugged-in-24/7 media universe, where most stories whiz by at Feiler Faster speed, sometimes a very simple narrative can grab hold of the masses and transfix them.

Case in point: In Portugal, a little girl is abducted from her bed in the villa where her Scottish family is vacationing. She vanishes without a trace. Two weeks later, with still no word of the four-year-old’s fate, all of Britain is in thrall to this suspense story,

The FA Cup crowd fell silent as haunting images of missing Madeleine McCann were broadcast on a big screen.

Dozens of pictures of the little blonde girl, who turned four a week ago, were shown to 90,000 football fans. …

Her pretty face filled the screens at either end of the pitch - each one the size of 600 domestic TV sets - and dominated the ground.

The short two-minute video, set to the soundtrack of the Simple Minds hit Don’t You Forget About Me, was shown at both half time and before the game.

It received a round of applause from fans of the two teams which both have close ties with Portugal, where the toddler was abducted while on holiday in the seaside village of Praia da Luz.

Chelsea captain John Terry and team-mate Paulo Ferreira have recorded appeals as has Manchester United star Cristiano Ronaldo. [whoa! --ed.]

Um, can we talk? Don’t worry. This is not going to be a “whatever happened to that British stiff upper lip?” tirade.

For 15 days, the wide eyes and waiflike features of a child of 4 have stared out at Britons from television screens and newspaper front pages, T-shirts and posters with a simple message: find me.

That message has been relayed across Britain — on television and in cyberspace — by sports stars, celebrities and politicians, including the prime minister-designate, Gordon Brown. The outpouring has been likened, hyperbolically, to the national grief that erupted over the death of Diana, Princess of Wales. [e.a.] …

In Britain, the upwelling of grief has stirred debate about the country’s recourse to cloying sentimentality in the face of loss that has melted the characteristic stiff upper lip.

And I’m not going to lecture you about how trivial this one abducted child is compared to the other abducted people in the news that we could be concerned about—such as BBC correspondent Alan Johnston,

who turned forty-five in captivity in Gaza this past week;

or the three American soldiers seized by al Qaeda in Iraq:

Spc. Alex R. Jimenez, 25, of Lawrence, Mass.

Pfc. Joseph J. Anzack Jr., 20, of Torrance, Calif.

Pvt. Byron W. Fouty, 19, of Waterford, Mich.

or Ingrid Betancourt,

a former Colombian presidential candidate who is being held hostage by FARC rebels and is, according to a report from a fellow hostage who escaped, chained by the neck to other prisoners, sometimes up to 24 hours a day, to prevent her attempting to escape, which apparently she is given to trying again and again.

or the seizure and jailing by Iranian authorities of the American scholar Haleh Esfandiari in the notorious Evin prison.
Nope, this is not a guilt trip about the geopolitical messages we should be listening to (although we should be listening to them, of course).

This is just a reminder of the extraordinary, magical, mystical power of stories to capture our imagination in a way that nothing else can—that is, to capture our imagination and attention in a way that influences us. That makes us stop and think. That stays with us ( or “sticks,” in Malcolm Gladwell’s parlance). That makes us change our mind, or our behavior.

I mention five abduction stories above. All of them cry out for our attention. All of them are heartbreaking and tragic. All of the victims cry out for our sympathy or our pity. One of them is different, however. Only that one cries out immediately for our empathy.

Most of us will never run for office in ultra-violent Colombia. Most of us will never serve in Iraq. Most of us will never report from war-torn Gaza. Most of us will never have to toe a precarious line between being a free American scholar and a devoted Persian daughter who goes home to totalitarian Iran twice a year to visit her 93-year-old mother.
But which of us cannot put himself or herself in the shoes of Madeleine McCann’s parents and which of us does not remember being a helpless child?

Surely there’s a lesson here for all marketers (of anything, whether product or idea). The lesson is this: nothing beats a great story (in which category I include heartbreaking, sad, horrifying, etc.). We will give you our momentary attention pretty readily if you make enough noise (for example: if you say something totally outrageous, like what Jimmy Carter said about Tony Blair the other day, we’ll notice). But if you want to get through to us, give us a story we can relate to at gut level.

Give us a story that no amount of cynicism or jadedness or ironic detachment can protect us from and we are your slaves.