Do award-winning campaigns serve humanity or just juries?

The lights of the Côte d'Azur are blinding, the champagne flows like a river, and the air crackles with the electric hum of creative genius. It’s the Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity, the advertising world's equivalent of the Olympic Games. Here, amidst the back-patting and rosé-fueled celebrations, the industry anoints its gods and celebrates the campaigns that “changed the world.” But as the highlight reels roll, a familiar pattern emerges. A weathered face from a remote Indian village. A child’s tear-streaked cheek in a dusty slum. A story of profound hardship, artfully shot and set to a gut-wrenching score, culminating in a brand-sponsored moment of salvation.

These campaigns are powerful. They are moving. They win big. But they also beg a crucial question: are these emotionally charged narratives a genuine attempt to address pressing social issues, or are they a calculated formula, a form of “empathy-bait” engineered to snag a coveted Lion? As the line between purpose and performance blurs, the industry finds itself in a gilded cage of its own making, rewarding stories of social good that sometimes begin and end with the awards season itself.

The jury box as target audience

The prevalence of themes like poverty, social injustice, and hardship, particularly in submissions from developing nations like India, isn't a mere coincidence. It's a strategic choice, a shrewd understanding of what resonates not with the masses, but with the few who matter most in the awards circuit: the jury.

As Fractional CMO Surya Narayanan puts it, “The creative teams that work on these campaigns are treating juries as the audience. Good advertising causes people to change thought, speech or actions - and our creative folks know the juries and their thinking.” This insight pulls back the curtain on a widely acknowledged, if seldom spoken, truth. “Juries have responded to Asian and African campaigns that address these themes and thus more are created year on year,” Narayanan adds.

Dr. Ashita Aggarwal, Professor of Marketing & Chairperson- PGDM, PGDM-BM, SPJIMR SP Jain Institute of Management & Research, echoes this sentiment. "It has been a common practice for agencies to create ads that can win awards without necessarily fulfilling brand objectives. Most awards look at creativity and creativity gets fired with heightened emotions. The narrative of poverty, and hardships is ‘emotionally laden’ and this emotional bait gives freedom to showcase creativity and hence resonating with international jury. Because the formulae has worked over years, it is used by agencies repeatedly. The other appeal is the sustainability appeal. So, basically the larger emotion is ‘giving’ and ’suffering’ works for advertising awards."

It’s a self-perpetuating cycle. A campaign showcasing a clever, emotionally resonant solution to a deep-seated social problem wins a Grand Prix. The agency and its creatives are catapulted to stardom. Other agencies, hungry for the same recognition and the higher fees that come with it, take note. The "poverty-as-a-palette" approach becomes a proven, albeit cynical, pathway to glory.

This has led to a stark bifurcation within the industry. “Within the agency/marketing system - there is a clear categorisation - regular work and award work,” Narayanan explains. “The audience and the accompanying KPIs are different - thus a different kind of work is created. This is a well known and recognised fact.” For "regular work," the KPI might be a 5% increase in sales. For "award work," the KPI is a Lion. The latter often involves what has come to be known as "scam" advertising—work created on a shoestring budget, run for a limited time in obscure media, or sometimes not run at all, with the sole purpose of being entered into an award show.

The canal between purpose and performative panhandling

So how does one separate the wheat from the chaff? How can we distinguish between a brand that is genuinely invested in a cause and one that is simply borrowing a halo for the duration of the awards season?

Manimala Hazarika, a Fractional CMO and Growth Marketing Consultant, believes the distinction lies in authenticity and long-term commitment. "Emotionally charged storytelling has always had the power to move audiences—and when done with authenticity, it can drive both awareness and real impact," she says. "But we’ve also seen campaigns crafted primarily for award circuits, where the cause becomes a backdrop rather than the core. That, to me, is a form of exploitation—using the vulnerable for creative frills."

Dr. Aggarwal, when asked how often she encounters campaigns engineered for awards rather than real impact, states, "Very regularly do we see campaigns which are purposed for awards. My recipe is to see ‘if brand is the hero in the story’ or something else. In the first case, campaign is probably more effective and can fulfill business KPIs. But when brand becomes a prop.. I worry. Because the story can then be creative but not effective."

This chase for accolades often leads brands far astray from their own identity. Abhik Santara, Director & CEO of ^ a t o m, points out the strategic misstep: "In a pursuit of aimless associations to trends, purpose and other fancy goals, brands often forget to answer 'What rightful place I am in to comment on this'. That's a very tough question to answer." When a brand of carbonated drinks or luxury cars suddenly produces a film about rural poverty, the disconnect is jarring, and the brand's role feels interchangeable and inauthentic.

The ethical Rubicon is crossed, Hazarika argues, when the on-screen narrative is a world away from the company's real-world practices. “The ethical line is crossed when an organisation’s actual practices contradict the values they project in such campaigns, or when there is no genuine effort to benefit the cause. That’s not storytelling—that’s performative marketing.”

Dr. Aggarwal offers a nuanced perspective on emotional storytelling: "I don’t see emotional storytelling as a problem. Emotions stick and break the clutter and helps brand connect with customers. Having emotional advertising is not an issue but using emotions to make an exaggerated claim or for ‘emotional bait’ is a problem. I won’t say ethical or unethical… because it is just a story narration method. One can won awards and other route can fulfill brand objective. The best combination when Creativity meets Effectiveness."

A satirical video that made the rounds in industry circles poignantly illustrates this point. It featured a group of actors who specialised in playing the roles of "poor villagers" for award-show case studies, ironically making a living off the industry’s hunger for social-good stories. Another powerful film directly appealed to the Cannes jury, showcasing life-changing initiatives that miraculously appeared in a village just in time for the awards submission window (March to June) and vanished just as quickly once the season was over. These commentaries, while humorous, are a searing indictment of a system that sometimes values the case study more than the case.

Santara laments that the discipline of pursuing true purpose is now a "lost practice." He argues, "Marketeers and advertising agencies have become restless and keep trying to do newer things - to justify their salaries. That is hara-kiri." This restlessness finds its ultimate expression in the one-off "award-bait" film that exists outside the brand's established narrative, creating a fleeting moment of praise but no lasting memory structure. In Nair's words, "clarity and consistency beat novelty every single time."

The real test of a campaign’s soul is its sustainability. Was it a fleeting moment of manufactured hope, or the beginning of a lasting program? Did the brand stick around after the camera crews left and the trophies were polished? When the answer is no, the work, no matter how beautifully crafted, risks becoming a grotesque parody of purpose. As Narayanan bluntly states, “as far as I am concerned, anything made for awards is unethical—juries should stop rewarding scam work. Creative teams and agencies are responding to the incentives. Awards get recognition and better fees.”     

Lost in cultural translation

The issue is further complicated by the cultural and geographical distance between the subjects of these stories and the international juries judging them. There is a looming concern that stories of hardship from countries like India or Brazil are, to some extent, exoticised or romanticised by Western juries. A clever solution to a problem that doesn't exist in their own developed nations—like a solar-powered hat to help a child study in a village with no electricity—can seem profoundly innovative and moving, even if its real-world scalability is negligible.

This creates a dynamic where narratives of suffering can be inadvertently rewarded for fitting a certain preconceived notion of what life is like in the “developing world.” It’s a "slumdog" effect, where tales of overcoming extreme adversity are seen as more authentic, more raw, and ultimately, more creative.

Dr. Aggarwal acknowledges this cultural dynamic. "Definitely there is a cultural difference, along with perception bias. India is still the land of snake charmers by many. But I also think it’s about ‘What looks good?’… not just for brands but also for jury to press their image…. A story that narrates hope and transformation is believed by all and can’t have negative emotions… so probably it is also a safe route for jurors."

Narayanan questions the very definition of creativity in this context. “Juries in creative awards are judging work based on a narrow definition of creative. How can something be creative if it's not changing things on the ground?” he asks. His proposed solution is a radical shift in the rules of the game: “Maybe one of the easiest ways of dealing with this is to change entry guidelines—don't accept work that has not been in effect for less than two years.”

Such a change would instantly filter out the flash-in-the-pan campaigns and reward genuine, long-term investment. It would force agencies and brands to prove their impact, not just their ingenuity in telling a compelling story for a two-minute case study video.

The carrot and the conscience

It’s easy to cast stones, but the system is a complex beast, and many who participate in it are caught in its currents. In a moment of candid reflection, Narayanan admits, “As an aside, I have participated in this myself :). When we do boring real world work, the ‘creative’ work that we get to during award season is perhaps the biggest carrot we can offer the creative teams :("

This is the paradox at the heart of the issue. The desire to win awards isn't just about ego or money; it's about retaining talent. It's about giving creative minds a chance to stretch their wings beyond the mundane constraints of everyday briefs. But when that creative expression comes at the cost of exploiting the vulnerable, the industry has a moral obligation to recalibrate its compass.

The challenge, as Hazarika concludes, is to channel that incredible creative energy towards a higher purpose. "The real challenge is to ensure our creativity uplifts, not exploits—and that the communities we portray are not just seen, but truly served."

Ultimately, the most coveted award should not be a metal lion, but a measurable, lasting, positive change in the world. The advertising industry possesses the power to shape perception and inspire action like no other. The question is whether it will use that power to build its own trophy cabinet or to help build a better world, one authentic, impactful, and genuinely purpose-driven campaign at a time. The standing ovations in Cannes should be for work that doesn’t just move a jury, but moves the needle on humanity.