It seems appropriate that in the week leading up to Halloween, I am ready to impale my profession with a stake through the heart. To declare PR dead.
I have worked as a public relations practitioner for more than 20 years. I have advised clients in the high tech, arts and not for profit sectors on how to communicate with their stakeholders in a way that will increase their profitability, sales and reputation through media stories and community involvement. I love my career and have had the privilege to work with amazing people and companies who are changing the world. I know my role in the narrative – they develop the technology, program or vehicle for change and I help tell their stores through media outreach. I’ve cold-called Anderson Cooper (and nearly hung up in a panic when he answered HIS OWN DAMN PHONE), had clients featured above the fold of The Wall Street Journal and traveled to Africa with Christopher Hitchens. My clients have been featured on Oprah. I’m very, very proud of the work that I have done and feel that by raising awareness of under-reported issues and causes, I have enacted change.
I’ve had to defend my profession at times, been called a spin doctor, manipulator of truth or even worse but I feel that I have consistently used my powers for good. My favourite clients are the underdogs: issues that have been neglected by mainstream media, life changing technologies, children’s rights. But the PR industry has changed over the past 5 years, certainly since the advent of social media.
Mainstream media – trained, accredited journalists devoted to reporting all sides of a story without bias- were replaced with niche bloggers promoting their personal brand. Print and broadcast media couldn’t stay apace with the speed of Twitter and news cycles were over before the 6:00 news. Pitching a story to an editor or reporter became a game of “Where’s Waldo?” as I tried to track down where a journalist was hanging his hat due to downsizing. In fact, a number of journalists were now contacting ME; not to follow up on a story but wondering how they could get into PR.
This week, a news story broke on a Sunday evening and rocked an entire country and the mainstream media. Jian Ghomeshi’s firing from the CBC after 14 years as one of it’s most recognizable and beloved journalists was announced with three cold, impersonal sentences. Ghomeshi fired back with an emotional, deeply personal and accusatory post on his extremely popular Facebook page mere hours after the CBC announcement. Many people – yes, myself included – were immediately caught up in the narrative and chose sides quickly and passionately. How could we not be outraged that a person had been fired because of his sexual orientation or proclivities? This is Canada! This is the CBC! Shame on them! But as more details emerged and debate became heated, it was obvious that there was more to this case than was originally presented. A number of people pointed out on social media that Ghomeshi had engaged high profile crisis communications experts Navigator PR and that, my friends, was when I saw my chosen profession breathe it’s last breath.
Ghomeshi and Navigator chose to go with the strategy that a good defence is a good offence and tried to paint the picture of Ghomeshi as a persecuted pervert pursued by a jilted ex lover and rogue journalist. He likened himself as a soldier for the CBC, this less than a week after an actual soldier was gunned down in our nation’s capital. Oh, and he announced that he was suing our public broadcaster for more that $50 million. It was an extremely risky but well-played move Ghomeshi/Navigator were the clear winners of Round 1. But this is a PR battle that can not be sustained by the disclosure of even more personal details about Ghomeshi in an attempt to cast him as Everyman with not so everyday kinks, highlight his contribution to the arts in Canada or celebrate his achievements as a journalist. This was a preemptive strike that many saw through early and bigger discussions about consent, the cult of entitlement in our celebrity culture and the backseat that traditional media now takes when a story is being played out via social media.
As a publicist, I wanted to praise Beysus that I wasn’t handling PR for the CBC, grab a bowl of popcorn and take notes for the PR 101 class that I would one day teach as a case study. But I’m a feminist first and a publicist second. There was no way that I could belittle or dismiss the alleged assault of (at least) four women because I liked a radio show host or because I admired his PR strategy. That was also very troubling; that I – and many others – knew that he had engaged a PR firm known for its high profile clients and high fees. That the general public now knows that a strategic PR firm is handling this case should be troubling for Ghomeshi and for Navigator. A PR firm should help shape the narrative but should never, ever be the story. Knowing that Navigator is handling media relations or Ghomeshi casts an air of suspicion, wariness and yes, guilt.
When I meet with a potential client, I state up front that I will never lie for them to cover-up a wrongdoing. I will never lie to a media contact because that will not only hurt you when the truth comes out, it will damage my credibility. My personal and professional philosophy has always been: You’ve fucked up. You apologize to the people that you have hurt. You tell them what you are going to do to prove that you are truly sorry and you outline how you are going to earn their trust again. Then YOU DELIVER.
Over the past several years, we have witnessed a series of high profile individuals and organizations that think that they are above the law. They believe that skillful PR and denial will salvage their reputations and they will once again be restored to their entitled place in the power structure: Tiger Woods. Lance Armstrong. Too many politicians to count. The NFL. The Catholic Church. Ivy League universities. Hollywood entertainers, managers and producers. But the truth is that no one is above the law anymore and that even if you are exonerated in a court of law, the court of public opinion will prevail and social media will remind you of that every day. A high powered PR firm can no longer protect a predator from the wrath of an enraged community. And if your conscience doesn’t kill you, the village surely will.
So I must say good bye to my beloved profession of more than two decades. You are no longer representing the underdog, bringing about positive change and telling unique stories. You are a heartless vampire, PR, and I no longer see myself when I look in your mirror.
4 Comments
Pam, if you’ve worked in PR for over 20 years you know this is not an isolated incident, so I’m unclear why this particular situation has you ringing the death knell for the industry. Every big scandal has had PR experts working on it. Why is this different? Because it’s in Canada? Because it’s about someone you are familiar with and liked? It’s really no different than any other.
As a fellow communications practitioner, I know there are several sides to this story. Certainly more than we’ve heard so far. What if Ghomeshi really thinks he did nothing wrong? What if (unlikely, perhaps, but possible) he did nothing wrong? Is he not entitled to tell his side of the story, with help if he so chooses? I thought his Facebook post was pretty slick before the Star story came out and then I started to think perhaps all the rumours I’ve heard about him for years are true. But either way, I don’t see this as anything more than a developing story.
PR is no different than any other field – there will always be people who try to use their profession to do good in the world and those who are just in it to make a buck (and a name for themselves). If you choose to leave PR over this one situation, you’re letting the evil-doing spinners win. You have values and morals and ethics, so put them to work in a field you love to make the world a better place. Two weeks from now no one will care what Jian Ghomeshi is doing, and the underdogs’ stories still need to be told.
Hi Robin – thank you for taking the time to write a such an elegant, impassioned response. You’re right, in many ways of course. There is always going to be a need and a purpose for PR. Truthfully I’ve been feeling disillusioned with PR for a while, feeling like there were fewer opportunities to make a noticeable difference and help the bring awareness to under reported issues. It just seems all about the spin these days & the general public is also growing cynical. And so am I. I may not leave PR over this case but I may take a leave of absence until I’ve figured out how best to apply my skills and passion. Maybe working with the alleged victims to ensure that they also have a voice?
I can totally relate to the feeling of one thing being just one thing too much after a period of disillusionment. And having been there, I know that’s a horrible way to feel about an industry you once loved. (I managed to come around again, but it took some big changes before I felt passionate again.) I hope whatever path you choose takes you back to feeling like you’re doing something important, whether it’s in PR or elsewhere.
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