There’s a secret ingredient in the modern advertising awards circuit. It’s not insight. It’s not originality. It’s not even a film that made everyone cry with a moving track. No, the real magic sauce is something far more human, far more primal and, it turns out, far more effective. Lobbying.
Lobbying. That sacred rite where LinkedIn messages and WhatsApps are sent or coffees (or drinks) are scheduled pre-judging, or friendly ‘hellos’ mask a strategic wink. It’s the art of leaning ever-so-subtly on industry friendships to win an industry accolade.
And it’s everywhere.
For some, lobbying is a gentle nudge. For others, it’s a full-blown charm offensive dressed in selling your work saying, “Just wanted to share this amazing piece of work we did” or de-selling your competitors’ work saying, “Hey, you know that piece of work shortlisted in your category, it’s not that strong for real.” But for many, it’s simply tradition. Just like making up reach, impressions and earned media in a case video.
Let’s play it out: You’re on a jury. It’s an absolute honour. A chance to reward creativity, shape culture and eat dry pastries in the name of excellence. But before you’ve even arrived at the venue (or opened your online call link), the pings start rolling in.
“Hey superstar, congrats on the jury gig! So proud of you! Just a tiny ask. Please check out our little film in Outdoor / Social Commerce / Film Craft / Ambient / Innovation. Would mean the world. No pressure.”
Right.
That message wasn’t sent because your judgment is respected. It was sent because you owe someone a vote or might want a vote back from them one day. Or a job recommendation. Or worse – they’re from the same global agency network.
This is where things spiral. Because the deeper rot in the system isn’t just the lobbying; it’s the conflict of interest that’s been normalised.
“To be clear, this isn’t an anti-awards rant. Awards matter. They do. They inspire better work, reward teams who’ve pulled off the impossible, help grow talent and give clients a reason to approve risky ideas in the future. But the integrity of those awards should matter just as much.”
Let’s say you’re judging, and you work at Network X. The Jury President also happens to work at Network X. The ‘hot favourite’ campaigns on the shortlist? Oh yes, Network X. But don’t worry – it’s all cool, because the entrants are from different offices – as if allegiance can’t cross time zones.
To which we should say: If you share a holding company, a digital platform for work purposes, or a group-wide holiday greetings email, you probably shouldn’t be scoring each other’s work. Full stop.
Can you imagine this level of bias in any other profession? Picture a referee at the Champions League Final proudly wearing a Real Madrid undershirt while officiating. Or a judge at a baking competition sneaking bites from their own pie, saying, “But I baked it in another kitchen, so it’s fine.”
Even politics – yes, politics – has more transparent recusal rules.
Yet somehow, when it comes to award shows, our industry suspends disbelief and lets network mates debate, score and emotionally defend the very work they’re indirectly responsible for. In turn, it also allows eliminating and ‘killing’ or downplaying the work of others who are competitors. How can you win an award after nudging three jurors, two friends and a cousin-in-law, and still post, “Humbled to see this work recognised by our peers” without bursting into flames from irony?
Is the trophy really shiny enough to distract from the shame that comes with gaming the system?
To be clear, this isn’t an anti-awards rant. Awards matter. They do. They inspire better work, reward teams who’ve pulled off the impossible, help grow talent and give clients a reason to approve risky ideas in the future. But the integrity of those awards should matter just as much.
Which is why it’s time to rewire a few things.
Firstly, no Jury President, no matter how charming, respected, or geographically removed, should be allowed to vote on work from their own network or holding company. Make that any juror from the same network or holding company. If you are in the same global group, you should be asked to sit out.
Secondly, let’s normalise the idea that great work should win without backchannel encouragement. Imagine if jurors were required to sign a public disclosure of all messages received pre-judging (and during judging). No friendly or hostile biases. Just the work.
Thirdly, let’s make lobbying… tacky again. Let’s bring back the collective side-eye for those who can’t help themselves. If you’re sliding into a juror’s DMs like it’s LinkedIn meets The Bachelorette, maybe take a moment to reflect. And to those judges who indulge it, don’t. You are equally responsible.
Because lobbying doesn’t just bend the system. It cheapens the win. And over time, it erodes the very idea of creative merit. Awards should be something we celebrate – not something we calculate with the social skills of a seasoned diplomat.
So. here’s to the next awards season. Here’s to the work that speaks louder than LinkedIn messages and WhatsApps. Here’s to Jury Presidents who stand down when it’s their agency on the screen. And don’t lobby over drinks, breaks or lunches for their network’s work ‘innocently’. And here’s to the slow, painful, glorious end of the era of ‘friendly nudges’. And towards deserving work winning its due at awards.
Because if your idea needs a reminder message to win, maybe it’s not a winning idea. It’s just a favour with a case study.
By Tahaab Rais, Chief Strategy Officer and Film Director, Publicis Groupe ME&T
