Amsterdam’s ban on advertising carbon-intensive products has sparked fierce debate across the communications industry, including a riposte by Russel Howcroft. In this op-ed, Rethink Everything founder and chief creative officer Mike Spirkovsi says that beneath the arguments about free markets and government overreach sits a bigger question: if advertising genuinely influences behaviour, what responsibility comes with that influence, and what role should it play in public space?
Amsterdam’s advertising ban has clearly struck a nerve across the communications industry. And you can understand why.
Advertising, media and commercial persuasion sit at the centre of modern economies. Entire industries, agencies, publishers and platforms rely on growth, visibility and demand creation to survive.
Russel Howcroft recently described places like Piccadilly Circus as “commerce in action”. He’s right. Great cities have always reflected energy, ambition, movement and trade, and advertising has long been part of that theatre.
But Amsterdam’s decision isn’t really an argument against commerce. It’s an argument that if a city is serious about reducing emissions, it cannot ignore the forces that encourage consumption in the first place.
Amsterdam recently became the first capital city in the world to prohibit advertising for a range of carbon-intensive products and services, including meat, aviation, cruises and fossil fuel-related products across city-controlled outdoor advertising infrastructure. The policy forms part of the city’s broader ambition to reduce emissions, halve meat consumption and reach carbon neutrality by 2050.
The decision has been celebrated by environmental groups and criticised by others as government overreach. Both reactions are understandable.
Importantly, the restrictions apply only to city-controlled outdoor advertising infrastructure. Businesses remain free to advertise on their own premises, communicate through private media channels and reach consumers through digital platforms, where the vast majority of advertising now occurs.
Amsterdam’s rationale is relatively straightforward. The city believes visual marketing cues influence behaviour and consumption patterns, and if its goal is to reduce emissions, it makes little sense to simultaneously use publicly controlled spaces to encourage the opposite.
Whether you agree with that position or not, it exposes a contradiction the communications industry has largely avoided confronting.
Advertising cannot spend decades celebrating its ability to influence behaviour, shape culture and drive demand, then suddenly position itself as neutral infrastructure the moment society begins questioning the consequences of what is being promoted.
If advertising genuinely influences behaviour, what responsibility comes with that influence, and what role should it play in public space?
That doesn’t automatically mean Amsterdam is right. But it does mean the logic behind the policy is difficult to dismiss, and that’s where the debate becomes complicated.
Once governments begin deciding which categories of persuasion belong in public space, questions around overreach, precedent and power become unavoidable. Where does the line stop? Who decides? Do the rules change with politics? What industries become unacceptable next?
These are all legitimate concerns.
Somewhere along the way, public space became saturated by commercial persuasion. Every surface, every screen and almost every available moment of attention now competes for commercial value, and many people seem quietly exhausted by it, even if they’ve never fully articulated why.
Which raises a broader question: should every available surface automatically default to commercial persuasion, or should some of it serve wider cultural and civic purposes?
For decades, we’ve largely treated public attention as commercial inventory to be sold to the highest bidder. Amsterdam appears to be exploring whether some of that space should also serve broader cultural and civic purposes through museums, events, public information, culture, community identity and connection.
This wouldn’t be the first time societies have reconsidered the role of advertising. Australia progressively removed tobacco advertising from television, radio and sport. Restrictions
emerged around alcohol, gambling, financial products and advertising directed at children. The principle isn’t new. What’s different is the category now being debated.
Importantly, those products remained legal. The debate was never about whether they should be sold. It was about where, when and how they should be advertised.
But whether people agree with Amsterdam or not, the decision feels less like an isolated stunt and more like an early sign of where parts of the world may be heading as climate pressure intensifies.
Once climate becomes treated more like public health, restrictions around behavioural influence and demand creation become politically imaginable in ways they weren’t even a decade ago.
And whether Amsterdam ultimately proves right or wrong, the bigger question isn’t going away:
If advertising genuinely influences behaviour, what responsibility comes with that influence, and what role should it play in public space?
