My 12 golden rules in a crisis

Here’s how Rupert and co might have handled things.

Every crisis is different and often a media storm in politics is different from a media storm in the corporate world. But there are some important rules to follow, so here is my check list. See if you think News International has managed to follow any of them so far:

1. Establish a clear decision making operation - UK-wide, or any other region around the world, ideally slightly distant from the ongoing delivery of the business itself. Perhaps News International have done just this but it is currently hard to tell.

2. Identify early on a credible talking head who has been media trained, someone who demonstrates they understand the problem and can roll with the punches - not someone on the defensive.

3. Get good independent advice both PR and legal. If you are in a media storm your decision making will suffer, as will that of others inside the organisation because their jobs are on the line. And ensure that the independent advisers are sufficiently senior to tell the people at the very top of the organisation what to do.

4. If someone/anyone has suffered as a result of your actions, show empathy from the very top of the organisation.

5. If you are door stepped or on camera think in advance about the image - look and sound serious, and be polite. So far James Murdoch with a body guard in a yellow jacket and Rupert Murdoch and Rebecca Wade grinning off to dinner (see point 3 about empathy) have completely failed this test. The best role model? Bill Clinton. He was always polite, always friendly whatever the media storm.

6. The most important rule of all: establish what the truth is; decide how it will be told. Sounds easy but it's mission impossible in most organisations. Ultimately, the truth will get out so establish how you want it to be told and, above all, tell it. Do not allow it to seep out day by day, one painful revelation at a time - this keeps the crisis going.

7. An organisation in a crisis will leak so ensure that communication to all employees comes from the very top -- but assume that every word of it will get out. At the same time ensure highly effective communication with everyone in the company. That way they can become advocates alongside you.

8. There is some merit in doing the opposite of what your instincts tell you, so be more open and accessible, always be polite. There's a case study about a bank in the Netherlands which held daily press conferences. It may sound like madness but it put them back in the driving seat. An open approach would mean saying "yes" immediately to a Select Committee - or indeed offering to do it in advance. An open approach would mean Rupert Murdoch flying into London and asking to meet with Alan Rusbridger to see all the evidence and put his company right immediately. An open approach would be an offer to fund the judicial inquiry, or fund a trust to represent victims in a media storm.

9. Run a parallel investor relations operation and a parallel public affairs operation -- reassurance and communication with "stakeholders" are critical.

10. No-one is indispensible, however much you like them.

11. Most lawyers will tell you to say "no comment". Don't always assume in a media storm that is the right thing to do.

12. Say sorry. Say it quickly and keep saying it.

My guess is that some of this is happening. But many journalists are awful at crisis communications, especially when they are in the storm themselves. It is a very different experience when the microscope is turned on you. When you are in the media spotlight it distorts all rational thought - it is exhausting, feels never ending and all invasive.

Anyone reading this who has been followed by snappers, hustled on their doorstep, comforted loved ones after abuse has been shouted through their letter box or at school, followed everywhere by a motorbike, will know and understand what I am describing - logical decisions or the right decisions are tough in that environment.

Perhaps that explains why, as far as I can see, News International is, contrary to Rupert Murdoch's claims in the Wall Street Journal, struggling to handle this crisis.

Aside from the obvious "don't do it in the first place", have I missed any golden rules out? Please feel free to add some more.

 

Getty
Show Hide image

What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times