When the crisis is over, what will people remember?

In my previous Telum column, I wrote about Marshall McLuhan's proposition that the medium is the message and suggested that, in a crisis, the way an organisation communicates can be every bit as important as the words it chooses.

Several readers contacted me afterwards to discuss the article, but the conversations invariably drifted away from McLuhan and towards a broader question.

What do people actually remember when the crisis has passed?

It's an interesting question because, over almost five decades in communication, I've become convinced that we sometimes spend too much time concentrating on the crisis we are living through and not enough time thinking about the one people will remember.

Imagine tomorrow’s conversation

Whenever I become involved in a significant issue, I find it useful to imagine that the immediate turmoil has passed. The media has moved on, the investigations have been completed, the lawyers have packed up their files, and the board is reflecting on what happened. Standing in that future and looking back, what do you hope your customers, your employees, your shareholders, or the broader community are saying about the way your organisation handled itself?

Notice that I'm not asking what they remember you saying. I'm asking what they remember about the way you behaved and how that made them feel.

I've always found that to be a far more revealing conversation, because it shifts the focus away from communication as an exercise in drafting statements and back to communication as an exercise in understanding people.

One of the fascinating things about crises is that the facts rarely remain with us in the way we imagine they will. Ask someone about a major issue they experienced several years ago and they may struggle to remember the chronology, the official statements, or the sequence of events that dominated the headlines at the time.

What they are much more likely to remember is whether they felt they had been treated honestly, fairly, and with respect. They remember whether they believed the organisation understood what they were going through and whether, at a time when trust mattered most, it acted in a way that deserved that trust.

Perhaps that's why I have never been entirely comfortable with the suggestion that crisis communication is primarily about controlling the narrative. Narratives have always had a habit of taking on a life of their own. Journalists contribute to them, commentators contribute to them, social media certainly contributes to them, and now artificial intelligence is adding another layer altogether.

The one thing an organisation can genuinely control is its own behaviour, and communication is one of the most visible expressions of that behaviour.

Before it’s a media issue, it’s a human one

Many years ago, I found myself advising a contractor after an employee claimed he had been accidentally exposed to asbestos. Before long the unions were involved, the regulator was involved, and the media had arrived. As often happens, the discussion quickly became a contest over who could express the greatest level of outrage. Everyone had a position to defend and everyone had an opinion about what should happen next.

What struck me then, and has stayed with me ever since, was that the two people whose lives had been turned upside down had almost disappeared from the discussion. One was the employee, who was understandably worried about his health and his future. The other was the business owner, who knew the incident had happened on his watch and understood that he would face the legal consequences.

I asked everyone else to step back. The lawyers stopped talking, and the two men simply sat down together. They spoke honestly about what had happened, what it meant for each of them and what needed to happen next. The employee received appropriate compensation, the employer accepted the penalties that followed and, perhaps more importantly, they walked away respecting each other, not as victim and irresponsible perpetrator, but as two decent people caught up in an unfortunate situation who cared enough to have an honest conversation.

Looking back, I have little doubt that meeting did more to shape the reputations of everyone involved than anything that was written or said publicly in the weeks that followed. Before it became a legal issue, a regulatory issue, and a media issue, it was a human issue, and once the human dimension was recognised, many of the communication decisions became much clearer.

That experience reinforced something I have always believed about crisis communication: People first. Reputation second. Dollars last.

It has never been a slogan or a neat piece of alliteration. It is simply an acknowledgement that organisations build or diminish their reputations through the way they treat people, particularly when those people are most vulnerable.

See it through their eyes

Take a different, hypothetical example. Imagine a national supermarket discovers that one of its own products may have been contaminated. Within minutes, the executive team is discussing regulators, product recalls, legal obligations, and the inevitable media interest. Every one of those discussions is necessary. But suppose someone asks a different question. If I had just fed this product to my family, what would I want to hear from this organisation over the next hour?

The discussion immediately changes because the communication is no longer being viewed through the eyes of the organisation. It is being viewed through the eyes of the customer. The facts have not changed, but the perspective has, and with it the quality of the communication.

The same principle applies whether the issue involves a cyber-attack, allegations against a senior executive, or a telecommunications outage. People affected by those events are rarely sitting at home analysing legal advice or corporate process. They want to know whether somebody understands why they are worried, whether somebody is taking responsibility, and whether somebody is doing everything reasonably possible to make things right.

Those are fundamentally human questions, and they deserve essentially human answers.

Your reputation is the experience people remember

Communication professionals devote a great deal of time to choosing the right words, and rightly so. Words matter. Accuracy matters. Timing matters. The medium, as I argued in my last column, matters enormously. But all of those things are ultimately in the service of something much bigger.

They help shape the experience people have with an organisation at a time when that experience will influence its reputation long after the crisis itself has faded from memory.

So, before your next crisis meeting begins, try standing in the future and looking back. Ask yourself how your decisions made people feel.

In my experience, the answer to that question will usually tell you far more about the communication strategy you should adopt than the first draft of any media statement ever could.

Douglas Wright is Chief Executive Officer of Wrights, providing strategic counsel to boards and executives navigating complex reputational, stakeholder, governance and public policy challenges.

With more than four decades experience, he has advised leading corporations, industry bodies, government agencies and not-for-profit organisations across Australia and internationally. Prior to establishing Wrights, he founded and led Ogilvy PR Australia.

Douglas is Deputy Chair and a Fellow of Communication and Public Relations Australia (CPRA), a Chartered Public Relations Practitioner (UK), a Fellow of the Australian Institute of Company Directors and a Certified Practising Marketer.

He combines commercial judgement, strategic insight and an ability to shape outcomes in complex environments.

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