by Susan Johnston | May 2, 2006 | Rants, Ramblings and Riddles |
I’ve always believed I could learn from anyone. But a bird? Teaching me? About leadership communication?
In recent weeks, the skies around me have been filled with migrating Canada Geese. I’ve never been interested in these critters, unless I had to chase one off the bow of my little sailboat or scrape their droppings off my shoes after an evening walk.
But coasting along the highway, I had a chance to watch them in action as hundreds headed northward.
Geese travel in a distinctive V shape. One goose’s flapping wings create an uplift for the one that follows. Apparently, that arrangement allows the flock to travel 71 per cent further than one bird could travel on its own. For the geese, this is instinct at work, yet it’s as if each trusts the other geese as well as the V formation to get them to their destination. As leaders, we start a process where the group understands and agrees on the goal and the route to get there. When we emphasize the interrelatedness of individual contributions, people see where their work fits into the whole and where other people’s work supports them.
Geese take turns leading. This is amazing to watch. When the lead goose has had enough, it drops back and someone else takes over. Sharing leadership helps the group go further. Using individual strengths strengthens the whole team. Leading can be hard; give yourself a chance to recover.
Geese honk to encourage each other. This may be unconscious for geese, sound modified by the speed of their flapping wings. But we can do it consciously. Honk! Think how marvellous it would be if all the honking we heard was encouraging. As leaders, when we practice supportive honking, we inspire others to do the same.
Geese merge their Vs without a fuss. It’s fascinating to watch a five-goose V join a larger group. From the ground, we can’t tell if they discuss leaping on board, but they just seem to forget that they’re they “new guys” and fall in. Could we use that as a model for avoiding the “them” and “us” feelings that accompany mergers, reorganizations, or even interdepartmental transfers?
Stray geese rejoin the flock quickly. If you watch one goose stray out of the formation, you’ll see it gradually work its way back to the flock. The extra effort required to go it alone isn’t worth it. Is there a lesson in this? “Conform or die?” I think not. As leaders, we can create environments where original thinkers and creative people are encouraged to move from the margins of our organizations and are included in our discussions. These are places where people express their authentic ideas, not just the ones they think we want to hear.
Geese stick by each other. If a goose is ill, injured, or shot, two others will leave the V formation and stay with it until it dies or is able to fly again. Then they catch up with another group. That’s why you’ll sometimes see two or three geese, in a cluster, flapping like mad. When we provide genuine support to people when things are rough, we build connection and mutual commitment that lasts into the good times.
So now I’m wondering where we ever got the idea that geese are silly? Sounds pretty smart, to me. I also wonder if I’ll remember all this wonderful stuff the next time I’m scraping goose poop off my shoes. Honk! Honk! Honk!
by Susan Johnston | Mar 23, 2006 | Rants, Ramblings and Riddles |
We are the Lens
As professional communicators, we stand between people and
information and give it shape and form. We are the lens through which
information is filtered. In most cases, whether we are journalists or
organizational commuicators, our intention is to make things clear for
our audiences.
Unfortunately, there are communicators who
distort the information. So the lens is scratched – or clouded with finger
prints – and the audience sees a fuzzy image.
The True Believer – Distortion by Accident
Try though we may, it’s unlikely that anyone can be truly impartial. Everyone’s view of the world is coloured by his or her experiences, learning and beliefs (and maybe their Meyers-Briggs Type and their astrological sign).
We imagine the truth, as we see it, is the real deal. We unintentionally distort the information we communicate to fit our personal world view. Knowing that we all have biases that filter the way we experience, receive and transmit information, I think it makes sense to declare them up front so your audience knows the nature of the lens. But then, I’m biased. Not only am I an over-40, Honda-driving Canadian with a liberal arts education (and an ENFJ Leo), I’m a natural optimist who believes people want to be understood and believed when they communicate.
Exceptions to that cherished belief bring us to the second type of distortion.
The True Deceiver – Distortion by Design
These are the people who deliberately set out to shape a less than truthful picture of the facts. Whether they engage in propaganda, spin doctoring, political campaign rhetoric, press agentry or “sensational” journalism, true deceivers embellish the “truth” that serves their ends and diminish what doesn’t serve them. They know they’re being “less than truthful” and so does most of their audience. This is the stuff that inspires public inquiries. This is the stuff that gets people fired. This is the stuff that scares the public and erodes trust.
Disintermediation and CEOs who blog
As communication professionals, we need to step up our efforts to get and share a clear picture, one that’s undistorted by accident or design. If we don’t, we risk redundancy.
Communicators are intermediaries in a world
that is, increasingly disintermediated. We once were the “source” for current and relevant information. Today, people don’t need to go to traditional
news organizations for news. They can go to the Internet. Consumers don’t have to rely on what companies tell them about their products. They can find rants, raves, and reviews of almost every product or service on the Net.
Online, they find everyone from lunatics to CEOs (and some who fit both categories) expressing their opinions on millions of topics. When people can go right to a web site or blog and get the story (official or unofficial) for themselves, public relations people and journalists are cut out of the game. We lose the role of leading and shaping opinion.
Some might argue that’s a good thing. But, for most people, going to the Net is a bit like a walk in the dark without your glasses. You’re dazzled by the brightest and lulled into a false sense of safety by the familiar.
I’ll argue that someone needs to take on the role of discerning what’s true and presenting it to people so bombarded with information they no longer know what to believe. That “someone” can and should be professional communicators. The trick is to demonstrate that our lens is as smudge-free as it gets. Or, at least, declare the tint of the filter.
by Susan Johnston | Mar 21, 2006 | Rants, Ramblings and Riddles |
Did they ever trust us?
That’s the question IABC Chair Warren Bickford asks in response to my blog post, March 20, about the Léger poll that suggests more than half the people in Canada don’t trust professional communicators.
Of the 22 professions measured, PR folk are the fourth least trusted professional group. Even lawyers fare better. Journalists, too, are trusted by less than half the population. Ouch!
The chart shows the trend, along with scores for the most and least trusted professions. Not much variation over five years. Maybe, as Warren suggests, they never did trust us.
So what’s the deal here? Should the public trust professional communicators? If so, how do we make that happen? If not, what’s the point of our work? Besides paying for groceries.
So, let’s say that, along with buying groceries, communicators want to gain the public’s trust. Can we take our own good advice – do the things we urge our clients to do?
- Be visible.
- Listen to your audience.
- Acknowledge people’s feelings.
- Answer their questions.
- Tell the truth.
- Admit when you’re wrong.
- Do what you say you will.
- Remember that actions speak louder than words.
I think we know the answer. Let’s look at a few of the steps.
Be visible. The first action is to step out and talk about what we do and why we do it. Let
the public see that “spin doctors” and “muckrakers” are dinosaurs. PR, done well, is not about hyperbole or avoiding the truth. Journalism, done well, is not about pointing out the bad things in society or glorifying conflict. We know our work is to find out what people need to know or want to know and present it as clearly and accurately as we can. Let’s make that obvious by talking about what we’re doing. Let’s also stand up for those codes of ethics our professional associations promote, and apply some pressure to practitioners who cross the line.
For example, I know of a situation where, based on the contents of a news release, a newspaper printed an account of a meeting involving locals visiting a far off land. The next day, one of the alleged (and quoted) participants called the paper to state that the event never actually took place. Enraged, the reporter wrote an article about how the event was misrepresented, in which the PR woman admitted that, perhaps, the news release wasn’t exactly accurate. It was based on what was supposed to happen and sent out to meet the newspaper’s early deadline. The reporter didn’t verify. The PR woman didn’t verify. Honest mistake? Ethical violation? Either way, they both should have been slapped! I’m guessing each one learned an important lesson.
Listen to your audience. We need to get out there and talk to real people. Not our cosy colleagues. What do they think of our professions? Where do they get their impressions of us? How do they feel about our work? What would it take to make them trust us? Is trust even possible? How will we know when we get there? These are not questions pollsters are asking – not until we pay them to ask. We need to get out of the office and talk to people – not about the content of our communication, but about the nature, context and utility of it.
Acknowledge people’s feelings. Let’s look at the feelings that underlie trust and mistrust. Some emotional intelligence theorists suggest that all feelings boil down to “mad, sad, glad, or scared.” So what’s the emotion? Do those who don’t trust us fear that they’re not getting the real story? That’s my take on it. Do I hear a good argument for angry or sad?
Answer their questions. What do people want to know about our professions? Apart from the usual whine about journalists, “Why don’t you ever write about good news?”, my guess would be, “They don’t really want to know much.” Maybe we need to let them know how we operate, so they can work with us to bring their interests and needs to the attention of people who can make a difference for them and, in the case of corporate communicators, for our employers. Maybe some of us already are doing this.
Tell the truth. Admit when you’re wrong. Do what you say you will. I’m thinking these suggestions don’t need expansion.
Remember that actions speak louder than words. We communicators need to take our own medicine. If, on our own behalf or on behalf of our profession, we actively and visibly practise the habits we urge our clients and audiences to adopt, we’ll surely gather some goodwill along the way. We might even get better at our jobs, since we’ll actually be using our “products.”
Will the public ever trust us as much as, say, firefighters? Maybe not. Maybe yes. Maybe it’s time to think big.
Coming next: Disintermediation – and CEOs who blog.
by Susan Johnston | Mar 20, 2006 | Rants, Ramblings and Riddles |
Once again, professional communicators have scored near the bottom of the heap in Canada’s “Who Do You Trust?” sweepstakes. Produced by Léger Marketing for The Canadian Press, the survey, done in February and released today, polled a representative sample of 1,500 Canadians to determine the degree to which they trust members of 22 professions.
Politicians hung on to their usual spot at the bottom of that list, with just 14% of the population trusting them. Joining them in the low trust zone are the folks in auto sales, with just 19%.
Fourth from the bottom, barely squeaking past trade unionists in their battle for the hearts and minds of Canadians, are PR practitioners. Only 40% of those polled trust them. Journalists aren’t far behind, trusted by less than half the population.
I don’t pretend to be surprised by this; however, I am saddened. It’s not because I’ve actually practised both these professions and, despite that, want you and the rest of the world to love and trust me. It’s that both these professions are making a great deal of noise about professionalism, integrity, honesty, ethics, and all that wonderful stuff – and it just doesn’t seem to be working.
Never before have so many Canadian universities and colleges been offering under- and post-graduate programs in journalism, communication and public relations. It is almost impossible to get a job in any communication-related industry without such a degree or diploma.
In addition, organizations such as International Association of Business Communicators (IABC), the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) and the Canadian Public Relations Society (CPRS) are enthusiastically pushing professional accreditation. (I can’t speak for the APR, but I know as a one-time testee and, now, a tester, that the ABC is not a cake-walk. It outranks MBA Finance in the, “Yikes, you have to be smart for this!” department.)
These professional associations, like the Canadian Association of Journalists (CAJ), also have codes of ethical standards that guide their members. In most academic programs and the professional association certifications, the study of ethics is offered, if not mandatory.
So if we’re all so smart and filled with integrity, why don’t the people trust communicators?
- Is the word not getting out?
- Is the message just not believable?
- Are we so busy telling everyone else’s
story that we don’t have the energy or time to tell our own?
- Are we
failing to use our hard-won, well-honed skills and, therefore, failing at our own game?
- Is it time we did some advocacy for the communication profession?
I say, “Yes,” to all.
And I’ll plead, “Guilty,” to the sins of omission. As a professional communicator, I’ve quit jobs (in both TV and PR) over sleazy practices, yet rather than take a loud and public stand, I quietly walked away. As a member of IABC, I’ve been calling for the organization to do a better job of marketing the profession, yet I haven’t been screaming from the rafters, “Hire a communicator!” (Frankly, I haven’t even been screaming, “Hire me!”)
So, the series begins. “How do communicators earn the public trust?”
Feel free to share your ideas by posting comments.
by Susan Johnston | Aug 29, 2005 | Build your own skills, Rants, Ramblings and Riddles |
“Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.” (Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene V)
Greatness. What a concept. It’s not something we ponder every day. At least, I don’t. Make that didn’t. Two recent events dragged greatness into my awareness. First, I was invited to contribute to a book called, Become Your Own Great And Powerful: A Woman’s Guide To Leading Your Real, Big Life. There was that great word, right in the title, waiting to be explored, understood, and written about. Second, I began the process of coach certification. Hanging about with coaches, you seldom go for more than an hour without hearing that word. You need to “elecit your client’s greatness,” which, perhaps not surprisingly, you do by “coming from your own greatness.” Apparently it takes greatness to know greatness.
You might say greatness was thrust upon me. Clearly, I needed to understand what this concept of personal greatness is all about. What a great opportunity.
Our Conditioning
Find the word “great” in a dictionary and you’ll get many references to size. It’s derived from and Old English word meaning “thick” or “coarse,” neither of which strike me as being particularly great. Over time, like the word “magnitude” it has come to mean more than “large” and is imbued with attributes of significance and superiority.
In childhood, it was definitely not cool to entertain the idea that there might be something great about oneself. I, and maybe you, learned from peers that to be boastful or “stuck-up” was close to the worst thing in the entire universe. “She thinks she’s so great,” was definitely not a compliment. Trying to fit in and be accepted, our active little egos squashed any efforts by our greater selves to be seen in the world. For many of us, they still do.
That can leave us with a yearning to be more and better that’s at odds with a long-established habit of limiting our own reach. In trying to understand why some of us choose to play small rather than go for it all, I see a kind of modesty that doesn’t really serve us well. It may not even be genuine. True humility is not self-conscious; it’s unconscious. A colleague recently suggested that when we are consciously being humble our ego is in the driver’s seat, trying to control how we appear to others. When we’re concerned with others’ approval, who’s really steering?
Our True Selves
I’m starting to understand greatness as being directed by your true self, not some version of yourself that comes from outside you. I’m not advocating anarchy, impulsiveness or life as an outlaw. Far from it. I’m hoping to unleash that “spark of the divine” in us all. Explore what, by your inner standards, gives you a sense of real peace, real accomplishment, real purpose. It’s a way of being that looks at your world and says, “This is possible – and it brings me to life.”
Greatness is living fully, using the interests, intellect, spirit and talents you were born with in ways that inspire you. Greatness is not about saving the world, though that might happen if we all lived that way.
The first thing you have to do is regognize that you have greatness – current, potential, and possible greatness. We’re quick to point out our flaws, failings, weaknesses, and warts. But ask us about our strengths and we’re speechless. We need to rewrite the stories we tell ourselves all day long, those movies running in an endless loop in our heads.
These new stories will include the great things our true selves are and do and will continue to be and do. And I would suggest we write those stories down, though we may be their only reader. The act of writing can make the stories seem as real as they are, by getting them into the body and onto the page. Burn the stories, publish them, save them, read them – it doesn’t matter. The point is to create them, see them, believe them, and live them.
Isn’t it time to tell yourself the story of your greatness?
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If you’re interested in the book project that inspired this column, follow these links to find the book, Become Your Own Great And Powerful: A Woman’s Guide To Leading Your Real, Big Life and a recording of a radio interview with our editor, Barbara Bellissimo, about writing and publishing a collaborative book.
by Susan Johnston | Jul 8, 2005 | Rants, Ramblings and Riddles |
Greetings from Florence. Alitalia has created a brilliant opportunity to write something about BAD customer communication. “What do you expect?” I hear you ask, “It’s an airline.” OK, I’ve been a spoiled princess where airlines have been concerned. Alitalia is making up for all that.
The fact that Alitalia has an area on its web site for dealing with lost luggage should have been a clue that things could go wrong. The more distressing thing is – it doesn’t work. I dutifully entered the number they gave me at the lost luggage counter at the airport, and the system doesn’t recognize me or the bag. If you call the office, you hear a tape recording telling you that all claims must be in writing and there is absolutely no point in trying to talk to anyone. Yes, let’s just cut off all communication with anyone who might actually be able to tell me that someone is actually searching for this bag.
When a customer has a problem with your product or service, it’s important that they get some sort of acknowledgement that someone notices or cares. Actually being seen to be doing something to resolve the problem is even better. Best of all? Solving the problem!
I don’t know whether this is something Alitalia doesn’t know, or if it’s employees and managers just can’t deal with all the yelling. But shutting off communication won’t stop the yelling. It makes us yell more. We just yell more publicly and to anyone who’ll listen.
Yelling was something they were really trying to avoid when they cancelled the London – Milan and London-Rome flights yesterday morning due to a scheduled short-term strike by – well – nobody could tell us. Hundreds of people were inconvenienced – and the situation was made worse by the fact that the airline would provide no information. No info about rescheduling. No info about what would happen if we missed connections. No info about why the flight was cancelled.
When someone in the line with a wireless-connected laptop tried to get to the Alitalia web site to see if they could get some info on rebooking, we learned about the shocking bombings in the London Underground. Already stressed, the crowd’s anxiety levels increased.
A group travelling to Africa was clearly going to miss its very necessary connection. As they became more agitated and anxious, they became louder. The official became more steadfast in his refusal to give them any information that might suggest anyone knew or cared about their situation. I actually heard him threaten to call police and have the next person who yelled at him arrested.
This was all going on in a communication situation complicated by language and cultural differences and the shock of the bombings. A little sensitivity was completely in order, and none was demonstrated.
Sure, Alitalia is, like so many airlines, experiencing serious financial and operational difficulties. But information doesn’t cost anything. Neither does being nice. Going incommunicado is not a survival strategy.
