Crisis Communications 101: A Tiger by the Tail

Update:  Okay, apparently Tiger did not read Rule #2.

By now you know far more about Tiger Woods’ brush with infamy than you probably care to, so I’ll spare you the gories (click here or here for that). However, it does give me an opportunity to discuss what I’ve learned after nearly fifteen years as a crisis communications consultant and practitioner. Here are a few tips to save your rear end when the effluent hits the rotary oscillator:
1. Tell the truth (or as much as you can without getting yourself thrown in jail–ask your lawyer if this is applicable.) This rule is a little different for celebs who wreck their cars and/or marriages than it is for a company caught cooking the books or polluting the water table; but the essence of it is the same: don’t dissemble, don’t lie. Here’s a pretty good statement for a celeb/politician who did a bad thing that hurt no one but himself and/or family:

“I have made a terrible error in judgment that has unfortunately hurt my [spouse, kids, significant other]. I have let my family, friends and supporters down, and there is nothing I can do at this moment to fix that. Though this incident is certainly of interest to those who have [followed my career, supported me, bought my albums, seen my movies, etc.], I would appreciate some time and space so I can work this out with my family. I would also ask for restraint from the media and remind them that there are real people caught up in this situation through no fault of their own who deserve as much privacy as possible. If we get to a point where we would like to share more, I assure you I will contact you. Thank you for your consideration, good day to you.”

[If you are crying, wipe your tears with a handkerchief. Walk away from the mic. Now. Take no more questions. NO MORE QUESTIONS. No rambling, Governor Sanford. ]

What about the corporate bad thing? If there is no doubt mistakes were made– if you’re caught dead to rights and legal says it’s hopeless, then your appeal to the Court of Public Opinion (not to be confused with The People’s Court, though a bailiff named Rusty is always cool) should go something like this:

Scenario: ABC Company has been accidentally dumping factory greywater into river tributaries that feed stock ponds. There’s no wiggle room–they’re busted on 60 Minutes.

Here’s the statement I would recommend:

“ABC Company admits and takes full responsibility for our mistake. We take our commitment to the environment very seriously. This event has not only been embarrassing but an inexcusable violation of the trust the public has bestowed upon us. Our usually reliable safeguards and policies were not followed and we are taking measures to discipline those who caused this failure. We will also work with the community to undertake reasonable measures to clean up the leaked water and make whole those damaged economically by this incident. It is my sincere hope that we can regain the trust of our community and strengthen that trust as we move forward. Thank you. My chief engineer and I will be happy to take questions about our next steps.”

I can hear some of you now: “Dude, that’s nuts! Never admit guilt!” True, you have to protect your company and its assets; this is a statement of last resort. However, plenty of people will disagree with my strategy of telling the truth even as a last resort. To that I say this: if you’re caught by 60 Minutes, do you really want to be the guy sweating under the grueling geriatric grilling of Mike Wallace? You won’t win.

Mistakes owned-up to quickly are a matter of forgiveness. Drag your feet, dissemble or lie and it becomes a matter of corruption, criminality or mistrust. Ducking or covering up and apologizing only after you have nowhere else to hide–or under court order–will effectively destroy your reputation and cost you in money, energy, time and brand equity.

In another life I was Vice President of a $70 million healthcare management firm. We made some mistakes from time to time. As a rule, we told the truth and did our best to make it right (at least anytime I had any say in it). I have no regrets about that policy.

2. Shut up. You’ve made your statement. You’ve either said you are going to work this out privately with your family or your company has laid out what it is going to do to make the situation right (or you’ve lawyered up and said you have nothing to say due to pending legal action). So shut up about it and get busy. Resist the urge to use the media as a confessional. Save that for when your marriage/company is cleaned up and solid again.

3. Comeback? When you do “come back” into the public spotlight (if there’s still any interest by then) ask yourself: “To what benefit is it for me (my family, state, movies, etc.) to rehash this mistake?” In this age of trading dignity for a few minutes of fame, I submit that a little personal shame and contrition is a rare commodity. It also shows a little class. Think: would you rather be post-Watergate Nixon or post-sex scandal David Letterman? Think what you will about what either man did, but only one of them was forthright, self-deprecating, honest and contrite about it.

It’s not rocket science. It’s basic honesty. We’re all human; we all fall short of our ideals. It’s how we respond to our transgressions and mistakes that make up our personal (and corporate) character.

Now–and please pardon my use of the obvious–Tiger Woods has a tiger by the tail. His tiger is in the form of a rabid media that he’s fed nothing but red meat by his dissembling and outright stupid behavior.