Build Trust, Don’t Dig a Deeper Hole
“As recent crises of integrity have revealed, an explanation or apology that falls short of a full admission usually is a spark rather than a fire extinguisher.”
As recent crises of integrity have revealed, an explanation or apology that falls short of a full admission usually is a spark rather than a fire extinguisher.
NBC News anchor Brian Williams’ incomplete apology and Governor John Kitzhaber’s incoherent explanation fueled a controversy, not quelled it. The apology and the explanation became part of the controversy, not part of the solution.
It is always easy to second-guess decisions or lack of decisions. But here are some tried-and-true crisis counsel maxims that would have been useful for Williams and Kitzhaber to consider:
1. Believe a crisis can happen to you.
No one is invincible. No one is immune from crisis. The loftier your position, the more likely you are to face a crisis.
2. Recognize when a crisis starts.
A crisis doesn’t begin when the first reporter calls with a question. It starts when you realize something has gone wrong, or that you have done something wrong. The crisis Williams faces started in 2003 when he misreported the incident in Iraq. The crisis that felled Kitzhaber began when he failed to separate his work sufficiently from the work of his fiancé.
3. Own your misstep.
Blaming a faulty memory or shifting responsibility inevitably come across to the public as evasive or even big fat fibs. They don’t demonstrate the person at the center of a crisis is owning the situation, taking steps to find out what went wrong and making it sure it doesn’t happen again. Owning a situation isn’t the equivalent of a Get Out Jail Free card, but it is the first step to maintaining or regaining shaken confidence. It signals you are taking the matter seriously and doing something about it.
4. Provide a clear resolution.
Trust comes from actions, not words. What you say can and will be analyzed. What you do can be seen and assessed. That’s a huge difference. It undoubtedly would have been painful for Williams to admit he embellished his reporting and for Kitzhaber to admit he turned a blind eye to potential or actual conflicts of interest. But that pain of the moment would have been far less painful that the longer term damage each is facing because they didn’t deal with the fundamental problem at the heart of their respective crises.
5. Balance your liability against the value of your reputation.
Many full admissions are thwarted out of fear of increasing liability in a courtroom. Too often these fears overwhelm the price paid in the court of public opinion when public figures fail to come clean. Their careers are at stake, which may exact a greater price than a fine or even a jail sentence. Legal maneuvering has its place, but sometimes it has the aura of guilt looking for a way out. If you know you have stepped over the line, you are going to be admitting it someday, somewhere — why not make it here and now? If you know the truth, tell it.
6. Anticipate what could go awry.
We chastise children for failing to consider the consequences of their actions. We shouldn’t expect less of adults. Williams surely knew, especially since there were witnesses, that his puffed up account of the Iraq helicopter downing would eventually come to light. Kitzhaber is an astute political animal who certainly could foretell the results of a murky personal and professional relationship with the love of his life. In the end, both surrendered their trust because they looked away instead of into the mirror of their own actions.
Sermonizing about Williams and Kitzhaber is less useful than a Sunday School lesson about where crisis starts, how it ignites and how it can be halted. The stories of Williams and Kitzhaber are cautionary tales, much like biblical parables. They point out the way to oblivion, as well as the road to redemption.