[ On Disasters, Human Nature & Your Media Insurance Policy ]

The difference between a potential PR disaster and an actual one is typically the PR itself – or the lack of it, in 99 percent of all cases. Johnson & Johnson’s aggressive response to Tylenol tampering in 1982 set the industry standard for good crisis PR. But most companies in a similar situation, like Firestone, fail to live up to that standard: reacting slowly, hiding their heads in the sand, obfuscating, taking half-measures, or even lying.

Typically they do so with the best of intentions – they just want to minimize the bad news. But news always gets out, and the resulting fallout is often more disastrous than the original calamity. (Just ask Patricia Dunn, HP’s overly inquisitive former chairwoman.)

When this happens, it’s easy for the marketing communications world to opine. “If only they had done crisis communications planning!” we say. “If only they’d had media training!” “We could have helped them avoid all this!” And we shake our heads ruefully as we switch our Firestones for Goodyears.

What we overlook is the fact that it’s our fault these companies have no crisis communication plans. We’re offering something that nobody wants.

People are cocky. They don’t believe disaster will happen to them. They always believe they are the exception, that their luck will hold.

Take fires, for example. Do you check your smoke detector faithfully every six months? Is there a fire extinguisher on every floor? And does your family practice its escape plan? Be honest– the answer to at least one of these questions is probably “No.”

Or what about driving? Do you always maintain a following distance of one car-length per 10 MPH of speed, or do you occasionally tailgate? Do you always stop at yellow lights, or do you squeak through before the red?

“But my house won’t catch on fire,” we say. “I’m a good driver.” Firms do likewise: “The company’s books are fine.” “Of course we’re environmentally responsible.”

But wait – look again at the above examples. We may not have nine-volts for the smoke detector...but we do have fire insurance. We take chances in cars that we shouldn’t...but by law, we have to have a policy before we get behind the wheel.

If the potential cost is high enough (the loss of all we own in a fire, for instance) we take certain measures... not to protect ourselves, but rather to get other people to protect us. Essentially, that’s all insurance is. And why should businesses behave any different than people?

So let’s call crisis communication planning what it is: media insurance. Media insurance is the guarantee that, when the inevitable bad day happens, you will know what to say and how to say it. Media insurance is the promise that someone will be there to guide you through the thicket of reporters’ microphones. Media insurance is how you make the news, rather than become it.

In short, PR firms need to stop lamenting organizations’ reluctance to do adequate crisis communication planning, because what they are lamenting is human nature itself. Instead they need to invoke common sense: getting media insurance is simply the smart thing to do. It’s folly to get behind the wheel of a car without insurance. It’s folly magnified exponentially to do the same when you’re driving a company.

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