In honor of the season, here is a comparative analysis of religious marketing in Wal-Mart and Target, which I wrote for my sociology of religion class this semester. Part of the assignment was to relate our findings to Mara Einstein’s book Brands of Faith. Part one deals mostly with branding, while part two will focus on the way the stores deal with Christmas.
In popular consciousness, Wal-Mart and Target are mutually exclusive brands. This can be experienced by anyone who shops at these stores—from the atmosphere and decoration to the very layout, every aspect of each store is carefully considered for the conscious (or, more often, subconscious) effect it will have on the potential customer. For the stores, however, a simple qualitative differentiation is not enough; the stores also go through painstaking efforts to present themselves as singular representations of distinct essences. This act of branding has profound ramifications on the way these two stores market religion and spirituality.
In Brands of Faith, Mara Einstein summarizes the respective brands of these two big box stores succinctly: she says Wal-Mart presents itself as a values-driven friend of the family, while Target affects hipness and trendiness by maintaining a youthful image (12). If branding is about “making meaning,” as Einstein suggests (70), what kind of meaningful relationship are Wal-Mart and Target trying to create and cultivate with an average shopper like me by presenting themselves these ways? How does this tell the consumer about what the stores believe? If one can understand the beliefs underlying the supercenters’ personalities, one must assume that supercenters can incorporate into their image a coherent position on grand philosophical problems—such as, for instance, the existence of God or the meaning of life. If Wal-Mart and Target do attempt to answer these questions for their shoppers, the evidence must lie somewhere in the products they sell.
Einstein argues that big box stores often try to capitalize on America’s significant Christian market, either by presenting themselves as sharing Christian values or including Christian merchandise on their shelves (39). Wal-Mart does both. While Wal-Mart’s book section is mostly filled with harlequin romance paperbacks and equally trashy teen fantasy novels, the most distinctive and carefully arranged display by far was the “Inspirational” section (see Einstein 49). This included Christian-themed potboilers like The Twelfth Imam by Joel C. Rosenberg and the Left Behind series (all published by Tyndale House) along with the usual assortment of Joel Osteen (FaithWords and Free Press), Rick Warren’s A Purpose Driven Life (Zondervan), Billy Graham’s Storm Warning (Thomas Nelson), and Bill Weise’s awkward pseudo-prophecy 23 Minutes in Hell (Charisma House). In her book, Einstein argues that the Christian book industry is becoming “consolidated” (47-50), but judging by my findings, a better word might be “compartmentalized”: there are still a variety of publishers producing Christian material, but only a handful of imprints could be considered “dependably Christian.” In addition to the faith inspired books, there was also an entire shelf of handsomely packaged and bound Bibles, all of which were published by Thomas Nelson. While Thomas Nelson obviously cannot have a monopoly on a work in the public domain, it is telling nevertheless that Wal-Mart would choose to carry only this publisher (and, as far as I could see, only two translations of the Bible: The archaic King James and the academically dubious New International Version).
It is obvious that the “Inspirational” section of Wal-Mart would only appeal to Christians (and more specifically, a niche market of Evangelical Protestants), but this is perfectly in keeping with Wal-Mart’s Christian image. However, to maintain this image, Wal-Mart seems obliged to install boundaries between their Christian merchandise and the rest of their store. Target, on the hand, is not so concerned with separating the sacred from the profane, which leads to fascinating juxtapositions. For instance, a day-at-a-time Bible verses calendar sat cheerfully next to a Jeff Foxworthy “You Might Be a Redneck” calendar. The literature department of Target suffered similar confusions. Instead of clusters of Osteen and Warren, Target featured vaguely spiritual books such as Eat Pray Love and Three Cups of Tea (both published by Penguin) smack in the middle of books featuring relationship advice, weight loss programs, and the fantastic adventures of vampires, werewolves, and the women who love them. The only section that was Christian in any essentialist sense was in the music department. But, as Einstein suggests, even popular Christian artists generally downplay dogma in favor of musical diversification and vaguely inspiring lyrics (54-55). Overall, Target’s approach to religion is subtle—if not minimalistic. Target is fundamentally different from Wal-Mart in this respect.
