Have We Been Fair To Tony Hayward?

There’s an expression related to PR that I particularly dislike. It’s “optics,” and like most buzzwords, it’s a bit pretentious and unnecessary. But when I heard that Tony Hayward will be replaced as CEO of BP, it popped into my head. Good optics, that is. Hayward’s been sent to Siberia (he’ll join a BP joint venture in Russia) while a new guy – a more marketable one, by all appearances – takes the helm.

Not only is Dudley BP’s first American CEO, he was born in Mississippi and spent part of his childhood in the Gulf region. Though he’s lacking a Gulf coast accent (too bad, that), he’s being cast as the anti-Hayward. And not being British does help. A cartoon depicted Hayward being tutored by a PR firm to lose his British accent to better connect with Americans. That ruddy-cheeked English appearance and crisp, yet gaffe-prone speech helped make him the poster child for corporate incompetence and indifference.

But “optics” implies a certain shallowness. It’s about image. Just the PR. Is there a more objective way to look at Hayward?  He claims he’s been “demonized and vilified” by the U.S. media, painting his departure as a necessary sacrifice for the long-term good of the company. He told The Wall Street Journal that he was villainized “for doing the right thing” although what he did right is still a question.

There’s an ocean-sized gap between his image here and in the U.K. People buy him drinks and express sympathy for the way he’s been treated by the whole mess. Moved to tears by a standing ovation during a recent visit to the home office, Hayward seemed a symbol of a departing warrior than a bumbling chief.

So, is the perception gap about geography, or misplaced nationalism? Not really. Hayward was respected internally as a competent executive and the right man to clean up BP’s spotty safety record after John Browne’s tenure. And there was a striking absence of UK investors calling for his ouster. Analysts and stakeholders who studied his performance and questioned him directly over his time as CEO were largely silent. Clearly, he was doing something right before disaster struck.

So, has Hayward been a scapegoat? Of course, but as CEO, he’s has been the top mouthpiece, and symbol, of corporate behavior, or, in this case, misbehavior. When the storm hit, his ability to articulate the way forward was absent. It wasn’t executive performance, the accent, or the pedigree that doomed him. It was a fatal lack of communication skills.

In leaving him in place to absorb the public rancor through the worst of the crisis, like a sponge soaking up toxic mess before a fresh one arrives, BP actually may have limited its downside, both financially and in a PR sense. But, as a (British) fund manager says about Dudley, “he’s not a new broom.”  His timing is pretty good, and his narrative is appropriate, but the problem with BP’s incoming CEO is that he’s really an insider who represents more of the same.

The whole changing of the guard is just that – a rearrangement. BP hasn’t gone nearly far enough to send a message of change. It’s varied the face and the accent behind the PR mess, but that’s about it. Bad PR can bring down a CEO, but its opposite – nice optics – can’t ensure success.  So, until real ecological and workplace reform takes place, it’s a prettier picture, but business as usual.

What PR People Can Learn From BP

Let’s get one thing straight. The Gulf Oil spill isn’t a PR problem. It’s an environmental disaster that no PR team, no matter how skilled, could clean up. The public relations crisis comes with BP’s lack of preparedness for the gusher, and with the communications in its wake. But, all calamities offer learnings. What lessons can we extract from BP’s mishandling of the crisis?

Stick to the script. Actually, have a script. It’s bad enough that BP can’t stem the flow of oil. But it should be able to stop the hemorrhage of insensitive comments from senior management. In my experience, some executives just aren’t good off the cuff, or under extreme stress. Others are simply tone deaf. But, even oratorically gifted officers shouldn’t speak in front of cameras without rigorous preparation. Hayward should be given 4-5 key points to make with the press, with no deviation.

Vet all messages. Chairman Carl-Henric Svanberg ‘s reference to the “small people” of the Gulf didn’t strike me as an accident of translation. His comment came during prepared remarks delivered at the White House Rose Garden, not an ad-hoc interview. Both Svanberg’s robotic speech, which the Wall Street Journal likened to Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime, and his choice of words, were evidence of not just a clueless crisis response, but a lack of message review. That’s hard to excuse two months after the accident.

Have a go-to guy. For a disaster of the spill’s magnitude, CEO involvement is critical. But, where there’s latitude, CEOs should be used sparingly. It’s also advisable to show executive and technical bench strength. At first, BP actually succeeded on this front by giving Doug Suttles, who’s in charge of exploration and production, a prominent role in interviews on the containment efforts at the accident site. Suttles came across as credible and competent when he stuck to technical progress updates. He didn’t do as well with questions on spill preparation.

Don’t crowsource solutions. Some will argue with me, but I don’t think it was a wise strategic move to open up the problem to suggestions from the public on the BP website. Though the outpouring of ideas provided comic relief  (duct tape, anyone?), the whole thing raised questions about BP’s competence at exactly the wrong time.

Focus on people. University of Kentucky’s Timothy Sellnow points out that, like Exxon before it, BP may have placed too much emphasis on the engineering challenge of containment rather than the human impact. Though the focus was natural, the story became the “solution of the week,” which BP could not control. An equal emphasis on helping the, um, “small people,” would have been better, since that’s something the company can actually do.

Don’t call the game until it’s over. BP has repeatedly predicted success for its efforts to stop the gusher, and it loses credibility with each attempt. Expectations management applies here. Even President Obama’s pledge that the Gulf will be “in better shape than it was” before the spill sounds quixotic right now.

Don’t try to minimize the damage. No one wants to reinforce the negative, but there are ways of expressing remorse and resolve that don’t rub salt in the wound. Reminding us that “it’s a big ocean” isn’t one of them. And, as a rule, where lives – and livelihoods – are lost, it’s impossible to overestimate the pain.

Back up your words with actions. BP seemed to turn a corner when the $20-billion-dollar victims compensation fund was announced. Reparations can be slow and difficult where legal liability is an issue, but an expedited commitment is nearly always in the best interests of everyone involved.

Be part of the solution. If it survives the crisis intact, BP will have a huge opportunity to set new standards for cleanup and recovery. A classic lemons-to-lemonade crisis response is to create best practices to prevent future tragedies, like Tylenol’s packaging initiatives. But that requires leadership, which has been in short supply as the oil, and the missteps, seem to keep on spreading.

Apology PR: What We Can Learn From Jim Joyce

It’s been a good week for apology PR, but a tough time for most of the apologizers.

Take BP, which can’t seem to stick to a uniform strategy. Just as it prepared to air an apology ad claiming “full responsibility” for the Gulf oil spill, its CEO cemented his reputation as the Joe Biden of the corporate world by uncorking the “I’d like my life back” comment. The quote was instantly seized upon by the press in a reminder of the 11 workers whose lives won’t ever come back. But, what’s frustrating is that BP just can’t seem to commit to a full apology. Every time the words are uttered, it seems to retrench into legalspeak, or, in this case, whining.

Even more instructive was Connecticut Senate candidate Richard Blumenthal’s reluctant mea culpa for misrepresenting his military service during the Vietnam era. It was only after days of pressure from veterans’ groups and a New York Times piece about the five draft deferments prior to his stateside National Guard service that Blumenthal actually apologized for repeatedly saying he had served “in Vietnam.” But, Blumenthal didn’t exactly fall on his sword. His apology was not only late, but weak.

First, he tried to explain his “misstatements” – an irksome euphemism – by tying them to a desire to honor those who did see combat. (I’m not sure how that works.) Then, he ended by saying he regretted “offending anyone.” It was another non-apology that sought to skirt the main issue, which is that he misled everyone about his military record.

Both could take a lesson from umpire Jim Joyce. After the bad call that kept Detroit Tigers pitcher Armano Galaragga from claiming a perfect game Wednesday night, Joyce did the manly thing. He took full responsibility. He apologized. And apologized. And apologized again. No excuses, no bs, no blame to pass around. When asked, he said he had a great visual angle on the play. What’s more, he knew it was no ordinary blunder. “I took a perfect game away” summed up the error and its impact.

Maybe most public transgressions aren’t that simple, but it was refreshing to hear Joyce’s words, and unfortunate that we don’t see that kind of apology more often. “I missed the damn call.” Sometimes it’s all you have to say.