This Can’t Be Happening

The U.S. space program of the 1960s was wondrous.  As a small boy, I peered into our black-and-white TV set to soak in every minute of every launch, orbit and splashdown of the spacecrafts.  On my birthdays, my mother stuck a model rocket on top of my cake.  I was way into the space program.

Watching this week’s news coverage of Apollo 11’s 40th anniversary has brought back those riveting moments.  It all seemed so effortless.  Very little seemed to go wrong, and if it did, I didn’t understand the implications anyway.  Armstrong and Aldrin’s landing on the moon was incredibly thrilling, but also somewhat inevitable.  Effortless and inevitable.

The truth was nothing of the sort, as we now know.  The U.S. moon men endured nearly a decade of intense training; faced countless dangers on earth and in space; and were given absolutely no guarantee that they would return safely – many thought safe returns would be the exception.  Thousands of workers supported them by building huge rockets; developing fuel and computer systems; mapping complex trajectories; and making sure the astronauts could breathe, eat and go to the bathroom in zero gravity.

Lessons?  I think the U.S. space program created the idea of crisis management. It made plenty of mistakes, but it always — always — focused on solutions.  That’s what the training was all about — what do we do if this goes wrong?  The astronauts and their teams on the ground trained and trained and trained some more, and every conceivable problem was identified and solved before ever occurring.

There are two excellent movies that showcase how crisis management works in normal-to-extreme circumstances. One is “The Bridge On The River Kwai.”  The other is “Apollo 13.”  If you choose not to conduct crisis training at your organization or company, at least watch these films.   

My hometown newspaper has changed a lot. Like all daily newspapers, it continues to struggle with costs, online competition, and relevance.  Its very recent changes include another round of difficult staff reductions — all of which have impacted long-time friends and professional colleagues of mine — and dramatic new designs.  And while the world’s events maintain a daily swirl around it, my hometown newspaper doesn’t cover them like it used to do.

But then, neither do many other newspapers today.  What’s their future?  This repeatedly asked question hasn’t been answered to my satisfaction. Maybe because no one yet knows.  Is the newspaper industry in a crisis?  Sure it is, and it has the misfortune of its crisis playing out in everyone’s driveway each morning.  It’s an industry that is reporting its own brutal transition / demise — for all to read about and comment on.

Newspaper struggles are not over.  However, we’re beginning to see how the future may look. 

For one, the daily newspaper — the print version — probably won’t disappear but may only appear on weekends.  We’ll still get it thrown in the driveway, but with more long stories and thought pieces. That’s not so bad. 

Next, the bloggers and news aggregators will have an important role, but the jury’s is still out on whether to define their efforts as “journalism” or even “the new journalism.”  (After all, the dictionary defines “journalism” as “the business or practice of writing and producing newspapers.”)

And very importantly, and before too much longer, someone will discover journalism’s business model for the future. A new way to make money and report the news.  For the survival of the newspaper industry, this has to happen soon. So, necessity being the mother of invention……

It’s hard to pick just one. One crisis. When the news is saturated with bad stuff, feeling upbeat isn’t easy. But let’s try anyway.

The U.S. financial crisis.  Yep, it’s a big one alright. Have you ever heard so many opinions about what caused it, how bad it really is, and when it might end? It’s complex, and it’s dangerous, and it’s taken on a life of its own. But the good news is that this crisis will force change.  Scrutiny of financial institutions will be greater.  Regulatory agencies may well stop looking the other way and actually identify brewing problems.  Many companies — currently forced to endure painful layoffs — will adjust their business models for better productivity and profitability. Individual consumers like us will be more alert to scams, easy money, and credit pitfalls.  We all will be smarter.

The salmonella crisis.  The tainted peanut products from a Georgia plant have clobbered our food safety industry.  This may be the biggest foods recall in history.  A ninth person died today from poisoned peanuts, and the company who produced them won’t talk — not even to Congress. But the good news is that all food processors are waking up.  Distributors and grocery chains will mount pressure on suppliers to guarantee safe food. Heavily agricultural states will add inspectors.  The FDA will re-prioritize its inspection channels.  Individual consumers like us will share ideas and information about food safety through social media, and we’ll become better preparers of food in our homes.

There have been more tumultuous years than 2008, but not too many in my lifetime.  Fortunately, we’ve got a lot to look forward to. 

A rough and tumble presidential election.  Economic distress at every level of society.  And unprecedented ripple effects.  The U.S. still fighting two foreign wars.  These things that occurred this year will grease the skids for 2009, and no one can predict what to expect.  Some say that the new year will be disastrous, that economic conditions will erode more dramatically and a depression will take hold.  Others believe that the combination of new U.S. leadership and an already bottomed-out economy will push the needle back up, albeit slooooooowly. 

The fear and uncertainty many of us now face are here for a little while longer, I think, but help is on the way. Smart companies – big, small and start-ups – are bracing themselves for tough times.  The really smart companies are planning for the upturn — right now.  They are staying committed to their marketing vision, assessing the viability of their products and services, re-examining the marketplace to seek new opportunities, strengthening relations with existing customers and business associates, and preparing to strike when conditions improve.  The really smart companies know that visibility is essential, even when times are difficult.  Because when the ice breaks, their ship will be the fastest to reach port.

Over Thanksgiving, my girlfriend and I traveled to Nicaragua, to a tiny place off the east coast called Little Corn Island.  We wanted to achieve “mush brain” for a week and thought this would be the spot.  But to reach the island (pardon the extended ship metaphor), we had to ride in an open, modified Boston Whaler with twin, 200-horsepower engines through 10-foot swells and high winds.  The boat was airborne as much as it was on the waves. We were terrified and physically whipped.  However, the week on Little Corn was magnificent, relaxing and peaceful, as was the return boat ride to our plane. 

Kind of like 2008.  Sudden and somewhat unexpected pain on the way out. But if you can bear it, you’ll reach your destination and things will be fine. 

When a public figure does bad things and goes to jail, at what point should we begin the forgiveness process?  With so many examples to choose from, I suppose we can be picky.

Let’s take Sen. Ted Stevens, the Alaska Republican recently convicted of felony charges related to lying about the free stuff he got while remodeling his house.  Even if he won re-election, he won’t be able to serve in the U.S. Senate, and although he’s pretty long in the tooth, he still may serve time.  Do we start our forgiveness process early, since he’s old and has been an elected official for many decades?

What about Michael Vick?  He committed despicable acts on dogs (no, not those kind of despicable acts), and the consequences for him have included, but not been limited to, prison, additional criminal charges, bankruptcy, and overwhelming disdain by most humans.  But, he’s learning lessons and may emerge a converted man, ready to do good.  When do we initiate forgiveness?

Martha Stewart paid the price for investment shenanigans — yet today, she has resumed her high public profile and appears just as popular (whether you love her or hate her) as a decade ago, when it was a good thing.  Did we forgive her that quickly?

Rather than or in addition to forgiveness, it may be wise practice to simply accept the transgression, that is to say, acknowledge that it occurred and that certain consequences resulted, and then move on.  Forgiveness is an individual decision for most people — it’s really hard to institute “group” forgiveness – and so letting bygones be bygones is often the best (if uncomfortably cliched) decision.  Good crisis managers also will carefully assess the public figure’s fall from grace and take away important learnings.

My learnings from these three examples?  Pay people for the work they do, love your dogs, and don’t wear fur coats to your trial.

Oh, Lord help us.  A company holds a golf tournament to raise money for charity and to bring together its executives and suppliers?  The Wall Street Journal story, “At CVS Golf Gala, Suppliers Pay for Access to Executives” (Sept. 24), reads like breaking news.  Of course, it is not anything close.  Tens of thousands of similar events have been held on U.S. golf courses, at beachside hotels, on Rocky Mountain ski slopes and in Orlando conference centers.  Corporate sponsorships of charitable activities are both traditional and critical. If a company complies with the law, it should not be blocked from nurturing relationships with the groups with which it works. Today’s commerce happens in an increasingly disparate and disconnected manner.  Is it better to make deals through emails and webcasts, or does it still mean something to shake hands with your supplier or customer?  It’s important to remember this:  people don’t do business with a business – people do business with people.

Media outlets fall over themselves to report the news faster and first.  I heard a lot about their strategies at the Society of Professional Journalists national conference last week. 

The pace of information is relentless — we all know that.  For me, the biggest question arising from that pace is this:  Can I absorb it and, if I can, will I understand it?

Reporters, editors, owners and professors at the conference were rightly focused on the future of the profession.  Discussion and debate about the future was lively, heated, nostalgic.  Many creative ideas popped up.  I even felt a palpable sense of hopefulness, even as the dozens of journalism students in attendance gathered business cards and compared credentials and job prospects.  In fact, the students provided a surprising grasp of the profession and asked pointed questions of high ranking media executives.  They also dinged folks like me — who are of a certain generation — as being incapable of connecting today’s emerging information technologies with the time-honored tradition of gathering and pitching news stories.

Hmmm.  So I’m a Luddite after all?  A 21-year-old thinks I, and others like me, are dinosauring our way through life and career?  If my daughter has 6,000 songs on her iPod, and I only have 1,200, do I belong in a lower professional caste?  (Even if my songs are better than hers?)

Here’s the thing.  Information breaks the speed limit all the time.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  It’s like fishing in a stocked pond; you’ve got lots of fish, but you can catch just one at a time.  Be selective in how you absorb and understand information.  Follow your interests, develop new ones, and use the flow of information as a benchmark — not as a wide net into which you gather everything.

I may be a recovering Luddite, but I am not ready to be an information schizophrenic.

The Tour de France represents what is both great and disappointing about sports.  It is arguably the world’s most demanding athletic attempt, requiring cyclists to ride nearly 2,200 miles over an entire month across famous mountains and ancient cities.  Yet, it is unquestionably the world’s most corrupt sport, marred by doping scandals, suspensions, investigations and embarrassment.

This year’s broadcast of the Tour features a rather amazing promotional spot.  To spotlight its coverage of the race, the Versus network is airing commercials that show tainted Tour cyclists.  But the footage plays backwards, giving the illusion, for example, of a race official removing the revered yellow jersey from Floyd Landis (whose final appeal of a doping allegation recently was denied, permanently stripping him of his 2006 Tour de France crown).  Beneath the images are the strains of a singer:  “I know it’s never too late to make a brand new start.”

A brilliant choice by Versus, I think.  There is no sand in which to hide heads on the Tour de France.  Everything has been exposed.  Why make any effort to ignore the past problems?  The network has acknowledged its broadcast challenges, accepting the fact it is better to talk about them than to bury them.  Doing this in a creative, subtle fashion helps to preserve the excitement of the event while still making an important point, which is this:  Everyone is watching.  Don’t screw up again.

If your company is in crisis, and you think reporters are your worst nightmare, think again.  The swollen ranks of citizen journalists, aka bloggers, can leave you sleepless.

During a recent panel hosted by The Center for Ethics and Corporate Responsibility at Georgia State University, a journalism professor reminded us that the blogosphere is fundamentally grounded in the First Amendment.  How easy we forget.  Not only are bloggers protected by the First Amendment, they are encouraged to be bloggers by these words:  “Congress shall make no law…. abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble…”

The “assemble” part is, I think, the most relevant to the blogosphere, which more than anything else is akin to a town hall meeting.  In the blogosphere, people set agendas, select issues to discuss, debate and argue about them, share resources, point fingers and join hands, take sides, ask questions and offer opinions.  It’s exactly like a town hall meeting, in my view, and a little less like a newspaper reporter.  Blogs enable people to demonstrate passion and emotion, to be momentary experts, and to create camaraderie among their kindred spirits — just like at a town hall meeting.

Your company may one day be the target of bloggers.  Or it may be annointed by bloggers.  Probably, you’ll get some of both.  The question you need to ask yourself is:  Do these blogs help or hurt my business?  Try to think of bloggers as audience members at your shareholders meeting, or as homeowners at your neighborhood association meeting. You can’t please everyone, and you can’t respond to every single concern.  But, you can learn valuable information simply by listening.

So listen to the blogosphere. Just don’t lose sleep over it.

If you’re keeping a scorecard in the major league baseball steroids scandal, Andy Pettitte deserves to be the leadoff man, even though he’s a pitcher.

In a spring training news conference, the New York Yankees ace apologized, fell on the sword and took the high road as reporters lobbed questions about performance-enhancing drugs, rather than about his breaking ball.  Pettitte sounded contrite (”Was it stupid? Yes, I was stupid.”)  He told fans that he was sorry for embarrassing them and his Yankees and Astros teammates.  He also said that he regretted the strained relationship with Roger Clemens.

The strain emanates from Pettitte’s truthfulness, not from from Clemens’ recent congressional testimony.  Over time, perhaps over just the upcoming season, Pettitte will be viewed as an athlete who made some mistakes, and owned up to them.  Fans will forgive him.  Reporters will give him the benefit of the doubt.  Fellow major leaguers may even respect him and try Pettitte’s approach if they get popped.

Admissions of guilt are painful, nerve-wracking moments.  But the public scrutiny that accompanies them has a short life cycle, because the public usually has a soft spot for these kind of heroes.  They’ll forgive you.