of legitimacy when the subject matter is political, economic, or even moral. There are legitimate differences of opinion on the correct way to handle many political issues, and few economists agree on the right response to a specific economic event. And on a highly emotional issue such as abortion—one in which people are just as likely to be bringing forth points that are based in religion as they are to be talking about science—it is completely appropriate to canvas a range of opinions.
But science is a discipline in which there are legitimate subject experts, people whose knowledge is weighed and measured by their scientific peers. This is the process people use to decide, for example, on a new surgical method or on the structural strength of a new metal alloy. If a doctor recommended that you undergo an innovative new surgical procedure, you might seek a second opinion, but you’d probably ask another surgeon. You wouldn’t check with your local carpenter, and you certainly wouldn’t ask a representative of the drug company whose product would be rendered irrelevant if you had the operation. If you were building an apartment block or a bridge and someone offered a “state-of-the-art” new girder that was lighter and cheaper than the conventional alternative, you wouldn’t accept the recommendation on the basis of the salesman’s promises or even on the latest feature in Reader’s Digest. You would insist on a testimonial from scientific sources.
That’s not what’s been happening in the public conversation about global warming. For most of the last two decades, while scientists were growing more convinced about the proof and more concerned about the risks of climate change, members of the general public were drifting into confusion, led there by conflicting stories that minimized the state of the problem and exaggerated the cost of solutions. Somehow, we have been spun.
[ three ] FROM BERNAYS TO TODAY A brief history of private prophets and public lies
SPIN DOCTOR: (noun) A person employed to gloss over a poor public image or present it in a better light in business and politics, especially after unfavorable results have been achieved. A lobbyist; a PR person. WIKTIONARY, FEBRUARY16, 2009
I have never liked the term “spin doctor,” and I hate this definition— at least I hate that someone would propose “PR person” as a reasonable synonym. Public relations is not by definition “spin.” Public relations is the art of building good relationships. You do that most effectively by earning trust and goodwill among those who are important to you and your business. And in more than thirty years of public relations practice, I have learned that the best way to achieve those goals is to act with integrity and honesty and to make sure everybody knows you are doing so.
Spin is to public relations what manipulation is to interpersonal communications. It’s a diversion whose primary effect is ultimately to undermine the central goal of building trust and nurturing a good relationship.
Of course, lies are darned handy when the truth is something you dare not admit. Earning trust and goodwill is a nonstarter if you’re a cigarette company peddling a product (often to children) that everyone knows is offensive, addictive, and potentially deadly. An impartial observer might come to the same conclusion about the fossil fuel industry. ExxonMobil doesn’t really have to worry about its public image: because it has a stranglehold on a commodity that is also addictive (we need that energy to make our current economy function) and, in the current circumstances, ultimately life-threatening—especially for all those people who will not be able to adapt to dramatic changes in world climate. So when Exxon gives money to think tanks in support of programs that sow confusion about global warming, that isn’t public relations. It’s not an effort to build or maintain the quality of Exxon’s reputation. It is, rather, a direct interference in the public conversation in a way that serves Exxon’s interest at the expense of the public interest.
But here’s the part that bugs me the most: the people who are taking Exxon’s money are often in public relations. Or they are taking advantage of skills, tactics, and techniques that have been developed and refined in the shadier parts of the public relations industry. Just as there are unscrupulous lawyers who use their expertise to help break the law, or unprincipled accountants who help their clients evade taxes, it seems there have always been public relations people willing to meddle with the public discourse to promote the private interests of the people who are paying their bills.
The Public Relations Society of America has a professional code of ethics, which begins: “I pledge to conduct myself professionally, with truth, accuracy, fairness, and responsibility to the public.” I would urge you to keep that pledge in mind and to measure the stories that unfold in the following pages against that standard. I’m pretty sure you’ll be disappointed.
But I am equally convinced that it is important for you to hear these stories, to learn about how sometimes-questionable public relations tactics have evolved, and to arm yourself against the effect of those tactics in the future. It’s just as Aristotle said more than two thousand years ago: someone who is highly trained in rhetoric can argue any question from every angle—a skill that can be used for good or ill. But Aristotle didn’t teach rhetoric so shysters could play the public for fools. Rather, he was trying to make sure that people would recognize when someone was playing with the language rather than promoting the truth. He taught rhetoric to inoculate the public against that kind of abuse.
Looking back into the history of public relations can be inspiring, but, I have to admit, it can also be disillusioning. Consider the examples of Ivy Lee (1877-1934) and Edward Bernays (1891-1995), two men who, perhaps unfortunately, will forever compete for the title of “the father of public relations.”
If I could look only at what Ivy Lee said and disregard a lot of what he did, he’d be an appropriate hero. I say that because I see in Lee’s own writings some of the same advice that I am in the habit of giving myself. For example, when a client asks me the key to establishing, maintaining, or recovering a good reputation, I say three things:
1. Do the right thing;
2. Be seen to be doing the right thing; and
3. Don’t get #1 and #2 mixed up . . .
by which I mean, always make sure that you’re doing the right thing for its own sake and not for the reputational advantage you might gain.
Ivy Lee’s prescription sounds pretty similar. He said, “Set your house in order; then tell the public you have done so.” Do the right thing; be seen to be doing the right thing. So far, so good. Lee is also famously said to have told John D. Rockefeller Jr., “Tell the truth, because sooner or later the public will find out anyway. And if the public doesn’t like what you are doing, change your policies and bring them into line with what people want.”
This is all excellent advice, especially appropriate if you are trying to recover your reputation after an unfortunate accident. In fact when I first started thinking this way, it wasn’t because I was trying to force an ethical framework on the public relations business. It was because I had learned that this is what works. I had noticed that when my clients tried to cover up bad news or gloss over problems, those problems got worse. But when people stood up, told the truth, and did the right thing, they won public trust and earned higher regard.
It was obvious from early in his career that Lee also understood the importance of openness and integrity in building a good reputation. In 1906, for example, after a train crash on the Pennsylvania Railroad, he convinced management to forego the usual approach of bribing reporters to ignore the story in favor of throwing open the doors—actually bringing reporters to the scene at the railroad’s expense and offering all the assistance they might need once they got there. It worked like a charm. People understand that accidents happen, and are remarkably forgiving, especially if they see you making
