To do that they must expand their consumer base—that is, their audience. They must give the customer what he or she wants. So if your local news station runs a few too many five-part specials on the illicit sex lives of nuns during sweeps month, remember they’re only trying to please the viewers.
Creating a successful product means citizens may not always get the information they need. A Harvard researcher found the average network sound bite from presidential campaigns dropped from 42.5 seconds per broadcast in 1968 to just under 10 seconds in 1988, where it appeared to stabilize; the number stayed the same through 1996. That translates into roughly sixteen words a night with which to make up our minds on who should run the country. We absorb more information, yet understand less than ever before.
This is a logical consequence of big media. Their existence depends on keeping the audience tuned in. If TV station “A” covers candidate “B” droning on about farm subsidies, most of the audience will probably switch to station “C” running a story about the stray cat raised by an affectionate pig. Station “A” would be wise to ditch candidate “B” and send a crew out to film Porky and Tabby.
Along with this contraction of information is a parallel expansion of media. Because social scientists have us so precisely categorized, outlets targeted to specific groups flourish. O: The Oprah Magazine caters to mature, high-income women. Men’s Health appeals to middle-income, fast-tracker men. Essence aims for black women.
Peter Yarrow, of Peter, Paul, and Mary, tells a great story in his stage show to illustrate how narrowly focused we’ve become as a society. In the 1940s and 1950s we had the all-encompassing Life magazine. Then we cropped our vision down to People magazine in the seventies (all of Life wasn’t good enough anymore). Things tightened up even more with Us. Now we have Self. Somewhere, there’s just gotta be a magazine just for you. I can just imagine it: on sale now, Fred Morgenstern Monthly.
Not only do we see more media outlets, but the flow of information has likewise increased dramatically during the past few years. Fax machines, cell phones, high-speed modems, fiber-optic cable, low-power TV, satellite downlinks—all have reshaped the way we get our information, when we get it, and what we do with it. And the Internet has changed things even more. (See Chapter 4.)
During China’s “Goddess of Democracy” protests in 1989, the students kept in touch with the outside world via fax. Instantly, China seemed to leap forward from feudal empire to modern nation. Vietnam was the first “we’ll be right back after these messages” war. As napalm rained down on the jungle we saw the war live as it happened. We had no time to process information or analyze events as we were barraged by them. Because of improved communications, the Gulf War had the same effect, only with infinitely more drama. The media may have accelerated the process of dissemination, but as we found out in the days of the first supersonic jets, breaking the sound barrier did not, as some scientists feared, cause planes to disintegrate. Likewise, instant news did not cause us to psychologically disintegrate.
With the Iraq War and its “embedded” reporters, access was quick but limited. We got the information immediately, but not all the information—at least, not at first. Technology had improved to the point that reporters could report on any event anywhere in the world at any time and it would be seen immediately, not after the tape (or earlier, film) had been sent and processed and edited. Vietnam may have started the trend, but by Iraq, technology had really changed the entire process forever.
There’s no way to assess what this means to society. To be carpet-bombed by information must have far-reaching consequences to our civilization, but that’s for future observers to sort out. Today, we face an intimidating media-driven culture. Anyone looking to succeed in business must first master the fundamentals of navigating the media. To reach customers, donors, or investors—to reach the public—one must rely on the media as the prime intermediary. The methodology to achieve this is known as public relations.
The Nature of Public Relations
Half the world is composed of people who have something to say and can’t, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.
—Robert Frost
I’m often asked whether public relations is a science or an art. That’s a valid question. In science, two plus two equals four. It will always equal four whether added by a Republican from Iowa, a shaman from New Guinea, or an alien from Planet X. However, in public relations, two plus two may equal four. It may equal five. It may equal zero today and fifty tomorrow.
Public relations is an art.
As in any art, there are rules of form, proven techniques, and standards of excellence. But overall, it’s a mercurial enterprise, where instinct is as legitimate as convention. Public relations was once defined as the ability to provide the answers before the public knows enough to ask the questions. Another P.R. pundit once stated, “We don’t persuade people. We simply offer them reasons to persuade themselves.”
Consider it more than simply a way to attract attention or influence people toward buying your product. Public relations is an art that creates an image (hopefully, an accurate one, but certainly a polished one) of you and your business, and presents it in a controlled, planned fashion that will convey exactly what you want to say without having to be obvious about it.
It becomes a question of credibility. If your neighbor tells you that the Dow Jones average for today has dropped 100 points, you would have no reason to disbelieve him, but you wouldn’t necessarily take his information as unquestionably reliable. Maybe your friend got the information wrong, or received it from an unreliable source. He could have just found out at the bar after his third drink, or from a former stockbroker who’s bitter about being fired from his job. He has, if not low, then at least questionable credibility on that subject.
But if The News Hour with Jim Lehrer tells you that stocks dropped 100 points, you will probably not even consider questioning that statement. To be fair, you’d have little reason to question it. Serving as a respected news outlet for decades, The News Hour delivers stock reports every day from reliable sources and has very high credibility. Even if the show makes a mistake, you are more likely to believe it than your neighbor’s true information.
I define what I do as gift-wrapping. If you package a bracelet in a Tiffany box, it will have a higher perceived value than if presented in a Kmart box. Same bracelet, different perception.
Consider the case of one Jean-Claude Baker, the adopted son of Josephine Baker, who owns a restaurant in Manhattan he named after his “maman”: Chez Josephine. In the spring of 2007, Baker, as is his custom, decided to send postcards with images of Maman to 15,000 of his closest friends. A P.R. standard: the targeted mailing.
Because the image he had chosen for the 2007 year’s postcard was, at least technically, a bit risqué (Ms. Baker was depicted topless), Jean-Claude decided to make sure his mailing would be in compliance with the postal code. No sense spending a lot of money on postcards and postage if the cards won’t make it through the mail.
He set out to his local post office in Manhattan, showed the clerk behind a window the postcard, and asked if there would be any problem with the mailing. The clerk took a look and, without consulting a superior, said the image was pornographic and could not be sent uncensored through the mail.
Jean-Claude felt the ruling was a little prudish, but he didn’t want to violate the law. He had the image on the postcards altered so that the word “CENSORED” appeared over Maman’s mammary glands. But no, he was told once again that a tiny amount of breast was visible, and the postcards were not suitable for the U.S. Mails.
Mr. Baker, who does not lack for Guerrilla instincts, had a third version of the image (which had always been an illustration, not a photograph) made, covering any part the Post Office might find offensive. That incarnation was allowed through.
Still, it ate at him (and at his desire for publicity). Jean-Claude contacted civil liberties attorneys and postal attorneys, as
well as officials of the U.S. Postal Service itself. In the end, it was agreed that the original illustration, unaltered, would always have been acceptable for mailing.
Some business owners might have been put out by such a rigmarole, while others might simply have accepted the original ruling and moved on with the censored mailing. Not Jean-Claude Baker.
He got on the phone to the press.
On May 9, 2007, an article chronicling the case of Chez Josephine v. U.S. Postal Service appeared in the “About New York” section of the New York Times. It noted, among other things, that Jean-Claude, whom it said had been running his restaurant “unburdened by excess modesty for 21 years,” decided to send out the original postcards, image unsullied, to his 15,000 patrons. He even got an apology from the Post Office.
And he set a press conference for the day of the mailing—one day after postal rates increased by two cents. It was expected to be well attended.
What strikes some people as tasteless self-promotion can be a brilliant Guerrilla P.R. maneuver. Here, while admittedly Jean-Claude was stuck with the bill for 15,000 postcards and had to pay an extra $300 (the two-cent postage increase, which wouldn’t have been necessary if the first postcards had been approved) to send them, he also came away with a charming story in the most visible newspaper in the country—and certainly in the city in which his business is run—for the cost of a phone call.
It’s even a funny story. But where another business owner might have seen an embarrassment (Baker said the postal clerk had said, loudly, in a crowded Post Office, that he was trying to send “pornographic advertising”), Jean-Claude saw an opportunity. And for one day, at least, his restaurant on West Forty-second Street was featured in hundreds of thousands of newspapers in his hometown.
And now, he’s gotten me to write about it in this book. Bravo, Jean-Claude!
Perception Is Reality
Don Burr, former CEO of a popular low-cost 1980s airline, once said, “In the airline industry, if passengers see coffee stains on the food tray, they assume the engine maintenance isn’t done right.” That may seem irrational, but in this game, perception, not the objective truth, matters most.
It’s a matter of broken windows, as defined by a study of crime areas by two sociologists in the 1980s. In James Q. Wilson and George L. Kelling’s “Broken Windows,” published by the Atlantic Monthly in 1982, it was put forth that when a tiny crime—a broken window in a remote warehouse—was left unrepaired, it encouraged the perception that the area was not well policed, that the owner of the building either was not present or didn’t care, and that larger crimes would be tolerated as well. Wilson and Kelling argued that if the smaller crimes were dealt with quickly and efficiently, the message would be broadcast that this area was not safe for those who wished to disturb the peace. They had best move on.
I believe this theory applies to business, as well. So maybe Burr was right: if there’s a coffee ring on the snack table, people will imagine that the engine maintenance is equally slapdash. Taking care of the little things will lead to the perception that the big things are also being handled. It really comes down to what people will assume on the basis of what they see.
How one comprehends given information is all-important in public relations. For decades, baby harp seals were bludgeoned to death by fur hunters, but until the public saw the cute little critters up close and personal and perceived the hunt as unacceptable, the problem didn’t exist. Before that, it was a matter of trappers preserving their hardy way of life. The seals ultimately hired the better publicist.
This also works in negative ways. The congressional check-bouncing scandal in the mid-to late 1980s was a case in which individual congressmen’s visibility skyrocketed while their credibility plummeted. The Phillip Morris Company, a manufacturer of cigarettes, spends time and money claiming that cigarettes are okay. Nothing they do or say will ever make that true, but they may go a long way in changing public perception of their product. In the early 1990s they sponsored a national tour of the original Bill of Rights document, implying subliminally that no-smoking regulations infringe on our basic liberties.
How’s that for a P.R. stretch?
Of course, when terminally ill smokers and their families began enormous class-action suits against the tobacco companies, the public’s perception began to turn. But even in 2007, the Motion Picture Association of America decided to add smoking to its list of questionable behaviors that can bump a movie’s rating from PG to PG-13 because the image of attractive actors in sympathetic or “cool” roles who were smoking was considered dangerous. You can tell children they shouldn’t smoke because they could become ill and die, but when they see someone they think is “cool” smoking, they’re going to want to emulate that behavior.
Ultimately, the goal of any public relations campaign is to either reorient or solidify the perception of a product, client, policy, or event. From there, nature takes its course. If the public perceives the product as good, the movie star as sexy, the pet rock as indispensable, then the public will fork over its money. As the brilliant business author Dr. Judith Bardwick has explained, “To be perceived as visible increasingly means one is perceived as successful.”
Some may charge that stressing perception as reality is tantamount to sanctioning falsehood. I disagree. The great historian Max Dimont has argued that it doesn’t matter whether or not Moses really did have a chat with the Lord up on Mount Sinai. What matters is that the Jewish people believed it and carved their unique place in world civilization because of it. Perception became reality.
Likewise, on a more mundane scale, one will succeed in a P.R. campaign only if the perception fostered truly resonates with the public. I do not believe people are generally stupid or easily duped. You may try everything in your bag of tricks to get the public to see things your way. But it won’t work if you don’t do things right, or if the public really doesn’t want to believe what you’re telling them.
You’ll pull it off only if the perception you seek to convey fits the reality of the public, the reality of the times. As Pratkanis and Aronson argue, credibility today is manufactured, not earned.
Consider the case of “New Coke.” In 1985, the Coca-Cola company decided it would remove its trademark cola—probably one of the most successful consumer products in the history of civilization—from the shelves because market research had convinced it that the formula used by its closest rival, Pepsi-Cola, was preferred by consumers. Sweetening the mix (making Coke taste more like Pepsi) was considered the way to “relaunch” the product and ensure that the brand would be an elite, worldwide phenomenon into the twenty-first century—and who knows how long after that.
The problem was, the public hadn’t been adequately convinced that it really didn’t like what it thought it liked. Coca-Cola drinkers positively revolted at the prospect of losing their favorite soft drink. They staged protests, hoarded bottles of “old Coke” before they could be pulled from shelves, and in short made the lives of Coca-Cola executives miserable at the very suggestion of removing the original formula.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. When “New Coke” was introduced, nobody liked it. It did not attract Pepsi drinkers to cross sides in the cola wars. It alienated Coke loyalists who believed the company had simply lost its mind and was not in touch with the desires of its consumers. Try to find a can of “New Coke” today. Exactly.
If you try to tell the public what it wants, you’d better be sure the public will want that when you give it to them.
P.R. or Publicity?
Often, the terms “public relations” and “publicity” are used interchangeably. They shouldn’t be. Publicity is only one manifestation of P.R.—specifically, achieving notoriety through accumulated press exposure. A publicist knows newspapers, magazines, Web outlets, and radio and TV talk shows. Public relations is much more than that. The public relations expert is as well versed in human nature as in editorial deadlines and sound bites.
P.R. can be as macro as a campaign to persuade foreign governments to buy U.S. soybeans, or as micro as a warm handshake. The notion that P.R. is simply a matter of mailing press releases is nuttier than a squirrel’s breakfast. As producer, manager, and publicist Jay Bernstein says, “P.R. is getting a front table at the right restaurant, getting you invited to the right party, and getting into first class with a tourist ticket.”
A man who has greatly affected my thinking, the esteemed business author and lecturer Tom Peters, tells the story of a visit to a neighborhood convenience store. “American Express was being a little user-unfriendly,” Tom recalls, “and it took a good three minutes for my AMEX card to clear. When it finally did, the cashier bagged my purchase, and as I turned to go, he reached into a jar of two-cent foil-wrapped mints. He pulled one out, dropped it in my bag, and said, ‘The delay you experienced was inexcusable. I apologize and hope it doesn’t happen again. Come back soon.’ For two cents, he bought my loyalty for life.”
This story is about one small business owner and only one customer, but it’s a perfect example of good P.R. But what about bad P.R.? I doubt there’s anyone on the scene who has mastered that dubious craft better than sometime billionaire Donald Trump. This is a man who has lost control of his own gilded ship. His lurid infidelities, his profligate spending, his precipitous fall from fortune, and, worst of all, his attempt to exploit the Mike Tyson rape tragedy to promote a prize fight collectively paint a portrait of a thoroughly vulgar mind.
Once he began an infamous feud with Rosie O’Donnell (then on The View) over whose looks were worse, things had gotten as bad as they could look. Or so we thought, until the distinguished Mr. Trump appeared on a wrestling pay-per-view event, shaving the hair off the wrestling promoter because he had won a “grudge match” in which the Donald’s own bizarre do was at risk.
Was it possible for there to be a worse image in America? To Trump, it appears not to matter. An image is all that counts: good, bad, or really really bad.
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