Finding Empathy: Can Anybody Do It?

Journalist, author, and screenwriter John Buchanan might have touched a nerve with his recent article, Anger Management, for the Conference Review Board. The article uses three high profile crisis communication scenarios of their own making in 2011: Netflix, Bank Of America, and Verizon.

Two of the three are still included on the "10 most hated companies in America." And then he points out why the three companies failed so miserably. They didn't make bad decisions, he wrote, they lacked empathy. I'm glad to read it. Empathy seems to be in short supply in business and communication. 

Maybe if business students studied empathy, ethics would be easier too. 

Empathy is the capacity to recognize and share feelings that are being experienced by another sentient or semi-sentient being. (Or, if you prefer, it's the ability to identify the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of another.) Most people don't apply it very often because the problem isn't limited to businesses.

Last year, Scientific American covered a study that found almost 75 percent of students today rate themselves as less empathic than the average student 30 years ago. What makes this especially frightening is that even though empathy is innate (even primates have it), social context overwrites it.

People are more inclined to make decisions based on their needs, exclusive of others. And when you look at the three case studies offered up by Buchanan, that is exactly what you will find. All three had to improve their bottom lines. And all three considered their options, exclusive of their customers.

It wasn't until all three received customer pushback via social media that they reversed their decisions. But even those reversals aren't really social media triumphs as much as temporary surrenders. Chances are that no one learned to be more empathetic. Their reversals were a means to quell the backlash.

Empathy isn't about picking sides, which is why people misunderstand it. 

Two of the assignments that students who take my Writing For Public Relations class receive are also lessons in empathy. One involves delivering bad news for a company forced to lay off workers. Another involves an employee who is hurt on the job (possibly because of a safety violation).

Inevitably, there are two common directions students take in handling the assignments. Either students ignore empathy all together and get on with what they perceive as the job or they exhibit empathy toward whomever they see as the underdog. But neither solution is truly empathetic and here's why.

Empathy isn't about understanding how underdogs feel. It's about understanding how everyone feels.

Last year, one of the better articles about empathy was written by Guy Winch for Psychology Today. He titled it "How to Test Your Empathy." I'm glad he titled it that because there are dozens of misleading empathy questionnaires and quizzes  online (e.g., feeling empathy during a movie doesn't mean beans). Instead of a questionnaire, he asks his readers to imagine one scenario. That's all it takes.

Believe it or not, I first learned about empathy because of my work in advertising. It was one of several great lessons written by David Ogilvy. "The consumer is not an idiot," he said. "She's your wife."

Fizzling Out: Kony 2012

While some people are calling Kony 2012 a resounding success to be emulated, others are pointing to what they called a paltry turnout to "cover the night" with Kony 2012 posters last April 20. The campaign failed to move people from the Internet to the streets beyond the gathering of a few people in select areas.

It's one of the failings of viral social media campaigns that fail to redirect interest and energy into a tangible outcome. People might have piled on the campaign online, but only the smallest of fractions took action. Even when April 20 rolled around as the first bellwether of the campaign, the majority of those who took an interest in the online film (or at least the popularity of it) lost interest or avoided it all together. In other words, most people heard the message and then shrugged their shoulders, some in disgust.

None of that means the campaign didn't have its noble moments or that Invisible Children didn't raise some additional dollars or enlist a few more activists that they didn't have before. But for nonprofits hoping to harness the Internet, emulating this so-called viral success story does more harm than good.

How Kony 2012 made people tune in and then tune out. 

While the case study isn't over per se (and Alexa isn't the most accurate measure), traffic spikes to  Invisible Children tell a different story than the one the organization insists happened. They flash a few singular poster shots, inferring that everyone woke up to cities blanketed in campaign material.

The real story shows that the campaign spiked in early March, spiked again when the filmmaker was arrested, and sustained only a fraction of interest on their first event day, April 20, before its awareness entered its final death throes. Invisible Children, in the interim, is attempting to salvage it all.

Having worked on several successful social cause campaigns with Amnesty International, March of Dimes, Acts Of Kindness, and AIDS.gov, I immediately knew spikes are all wrong. In those four campaigns (and others), the event day traffic spikes are 100 times greater than the launch, which is indicative of an event that cumulates into a specific action. People participate, take action, and raise more awareness than the campaign launch.

For the Kony 2012 campaign, people were made aware but most didn't take action. Worse, the rationale to the campaign might be best summed up with a study by Relevation Research, which found people who dump a brand online are more likely to distance themselves from the brand after they dump it. Once that happens, it is much more difficult to get their attention again, no matter how important (even more important) the next set of messages might be.

It's not that dissimilar to telemarketing callers and overindulgent direct mail. Consumers are generally receptive to the first call if they have a natural interest in the product or service. But if the telemarketer calls back over and over again (whether the person expressed an interest or not) or the direct mail/email spam begins to pile up, the consumer slides from mildly interested to disinterested to despondent to annoyed to retaliatory.

When controversy is the campaign, it only creates more controversy. 

In studying Kony 2012 as a living case study, there were dozens of details that campaign organizers overlooked. But the most pressing for cause marketers to avoid is centering campaigns on controversy.

Sure, controversy is one proven method to capture media attention. But the problem with controversy is that is cannot be effectively channeled into positive action. Instead, it's like a car accident — people rubberneck to look, are immediately taken by what they see, and then they keep driving.

For Kony 2012, the controversy mostly revolved around the notion that you have to make villains or villainy "famous" before people will take action against it. It's not true, despite being a common premise. Statistically, when people are faced with a problem that is perceived to be insurmountable, they are less likely to take action. Instead, they exhibit signs of learned helplessness.

The people that Invisible Children ought to "make famous" are not Kony and his cronies, but rather everyone else — the individuals taking action to bring Kony to justice and the victims who have become strong enough to move past their often horrific injuries and speak out. Likewise, the organization could do better than talking about what "they" set out to do, what "they" did, and what "they" are asking you to do next.

They didn't do anything beyond making a film and some bracelets to peddle. Sure, that is something. But it's also nothing compared to what some of "you" did. And highlighting specific individual accomplishments around the world would have likely redirected the focus on the better goal — putting an end to the issue once and for all.

This might seem like a small thing, but it isn't. If you want people to do good, the point of empowerment is proven not by the organization but by the collective action of individual people who believe and then demonstrate that the power of one among many can make a difference. But that doesn't seem to be what the Kony 2012 campaign is really about, which is why it is fizzling out.

Redefining Public Relations: Convergence Or Confusion

There are several things you can take away from the Current State Of The PR Industry (Annenberg Study 2012), a guest post on PR Squared, written by Burghardt Tenderich, associate director for the Strategic Communication and Public Relations Center at the USC Annenburg School for Communication and Journalism. But if you had to pick one: the field is in a state of change.

• There are significantly fewer agency-of-record relationships in the industry.
• The number of agencies that an organization hires has increased over time.
• The areas of specialization, including proximity, have become more significant.
• Social media is mainstream, whether public relations manages it or not.
• Public relations is being divided into tactical and strategic communication.

It's the last bullet that ought to raise eyebrows among public relations firms. It pinpoints why some firms, which sought specialization as a means to become more competitive, may have moved themselves further away from a strategic level of participation. As they become more known for specialties — planning special events, managing social networks, working with the media, crisis mitigation — they become less likely to work with executive management on a meaningful level.

Fewer firms manage the message. More firms are managed by it. 

One of the reasons, it seems to me, that more firms are being hired by organizations and fewer firms are being asked to manage the entire public relations component of a campaign is by accidental design. In developing their own comparison and contrast points, clients began to think of them as specialists.

This, along with the size of most firms, led to clients becoming more inclined to assign each firm smaller and smaller  "project work" such as Facebook, a special event, a product launch, a specific short-term campaign, etc. This benefits the organizations three-fold: it negates high monthly retainers, expands the potential reach of the organization (with each contracted firm handling its pool of contacts), and frees the client from having to perform too much task work.

A few years ago, I was brought in to to oversee one project managed much the same way. One firm handled New York, one firm handled Los Angeles, one firm handled secondary national markets, one firm handled radio stations, one firm worked with talent and street teams, and one firm handled social media. Along with these firms, there were four organizations designated as strategic partners.

There were two takeaways for me then. First, while the firms were invited to make suggestions, none of them were given the responsibility for a strategic plan. Second, each component was easier to replace if need be. It seems somewhat dangerous. All of them had made themselves reasonably replaceable.

Another outcome that I did not see at the time is hinted at in the full study released by USC Annenberg. The study notes that organizational communication/public relations budgets have increased but the fee allocation to an increasing number of public relations firms is shrinking. While the study points out that the increasing budgets exaggerate the chart, the takeaway is the same. The shift is toward tactical.

The number one reason agencies are hired is to increase arms and legs. 

While some firms are finding themselves more inclined to provide strategic or regional insight (the number two and number three reason to hire a firm), the majority of organizations hiring firms are looking to offset task work. This doesn't mean public relations is becoming less strategic as a whole, but it does demonstrate that there is a division occurring within the field.

Some public relations firms, much like internal departments, are gaining more relevance within the organization. In fact, according the Annenberg study, 60 percent of departments say they are involved in the senior-level decision making process and 70 percent say their recommendations are taken seriously. In other words, departments (along with a few firms) are increasing their relevance as strategic partners, but the majority of the industry is not.

While there is nothing wrong with this, it does illustrate a trend. Over the long term, it may diminish the importance of public relations firms despite the recent definition change proposed by the Public Relations Society of America in an effort to bolster the strategic importance of the industry. Or, at minimum, concentrate the most important strategic aspects of public relations to a smaller pool of strategic communication firms and in-house departments.

Branding Failure: Your Brand Is Not You

Professionals aren't the only ones struggling with the lack of social networking etiquette and the impact of errant tweets on so-called "personal brands." It seems that online friends, extended family members, and spouses can be the source of most online friction.

Even if someone carefully manicures their online presence and pedigree, it only takes a single tweet, comment, or picture from someone closest to you to undo everything in a day. One button click on Facebook can undo a decade of being an ideal "power couple" when someone changes their status from 'married' to 'its complicated'.

These seemingly harmless, sometimes quirky online episodes under the existing rules of social networks can set off a flurry of phone calls among family members, make connected employers think twice about whose head is clear enough to lead that big project, or even scare away the usual friendly suspects who normally subscribe to everything you share. It doesn't even have to be so overt, either.

Anything can happen, really. A couple of years ago, I was working with a candidate who took a pretty tough stand on illegal immigration. One of his followers, who the candidate hadn't spoken to in years, took exception to what he had to say, enough so that she started rallying against him on Facebook thread.

The entire episode exploded into a half-day session of angst as his followers split into decidedly different camps on the issue. But the real kicker was when her barely coherent argument was punctuated by the fact that she was his cousin, talking about illegal immigrants who were in his extended family. Yikes. He didn't even know it (and it didn't change his position). But there were consequences.

Does 'personal branding' mean we need 'couples branding' and 'family branding' too?

This is one of many reasons that personal branding doesn't work. And it is the main reason that I am always perplexed when social media professionals argue that personal branding ought to be an ever-constent concern. Yes, the same people who advise organizations can't control their brands are sometimes the same people advising individuals that they ought to control their online brands. Are they kidding?

If you think it's difficult to manage a message within an organization that can set some semblance of guidelines, then you might as well lower your expectations for personal branding where no such guidelines exist. Well, except for those folks who ask their better halves (and friends) to seek approval.

Can you imagine doing the same with all your friends and family members? 

Years ago, I wrote a little post about Tom Cruise to illustrate the pitfalls of personal branding and the paradox of expected behavior, whether or not someone pursues personal branding as a means to an end. The point I was trying to make then — the fragile brand theory — is the further away someone drifts from the reality of who they are, the more damaging any deviation from that brand becomes.

It also explained why some public figures are expected to be saints with no room for error and others are expected to be sinners with reckless abandon. But what I didn't write about then was that the entire image is dependent upon those who claim to know you best. And that means any personal branding deck is stacked with wild cards that undo anything that isn't authentically you or, worse, the contradiction of anything you've said or done, whether it is true or not.

Brands are fragile. Character is not. And even that is going to take hits. 

Recently, I reviewed this brilliant little thriller called Defending Jacob that underscores the point. The story, about an assistant district attorney whose son is accused of murder, illustrates just how fragile a brand can be. At the onset, the character is one of the most respected people within his community.

But when his son is accused, all those years of reputation building come undone. To make matters worse, his wife becomes fixated on the fact that the protagonist comes from a long line of violent men, the most immediate of which is incarcerated for murder. Never mind that he hadn't seen his father since age 5 or that he didn't share this dubious fact because of the baggage (and labels) that come with it; his wife still obsesses over whether or not she had a right to know before they were married.

Sure, the book is fiction. But the concept is not. People make judgments about all sorts of unrelated things, ranging from who you associate with to your extended family. Brands can't be controlled.

Five years ago, when online personal branding became the topic du jour, it all seemed easier. But that was only because there were fewer people actively engaged in social media. Nowadays, even those obscure family members (like the second cousin who always seemed like he came from another planet) and those long lost friends (like the one you ditched school with and told all sorts of secrets), can snap any brand you've built since then in a second. But those folks are only the tip of the iceberg. The person  sitting next to you is just as likely, even if they have no intention to do you any harm.

You can't control any of it. So you might as well be comfortable with it. It's just part of life. Live it.

Making Decisions: Are Consumers In Control?

I was sitting in a business meeting yesterday when someone posed an interesting point. Eighty percent of startups develop products they never intended, driven by the markets they never intended to enter as dictated by the consumer. Never mind that the figure — 80 percent — was anectodal and unattributed.

This thinking is all around us. Some people say that social media sparked a consumer revolution, one where executive edicts were traded up for crowd-sourced darlings. You know the story. Companies better listen to consumers or else. They know what they need and make everything better.

How does the public know what 'should be' when it doesn't know what 'could be?'

Sometimes the public is right. During the Bronze Age in Great Britain, which spanned 2100-750 BC, consumers had it right. The early metal work started by the Beaker culture continually improved over hundreds of years until the final phases when Britain and the rest of Europe produced classic leaf-shaped swords.

For all we know, consumers would have refined bronze work for several thousand years more (like some cultures around the world did) if it hadn't been for the inconvenient introduction of another metal that would eventually sweep across Europe between 800 BC and 400 AD (or so). Iron and steel changed everything, including the entire socio-economic system that made people comfortable.

But can you imagine the change if we were experiencing it today? Some corporations would have argued evolving from bronze to iron was idiotic. Not only is iron more difficult to smelt and more costly to shape, but consumers would also be complaining about higher prices for a stronger but more brittle metal.

That's all fine and good, I suppose, until those guys with the iron cut through your defenses.

So what if this so-called 80-20 rule is right? What do you want to do? 

Sometimes I think businesses hire too many people who guess at so-called guarantees. The reality in business, much like life, is that all models only work sometimes and all guarantees are guesses at best. And that makes the riddle of bronze vs. iron nothing more than a parlor trick.

What I mean by that is: most decisions are never as clear cut as "do we fulfill the public need for better bronze or go with the gut of the guy in the back room and build out our iron division." Instead, they are littered with intangibles. You know, the guy in the back room could just as feasibly be working on a ham sandwich, in which case refining bronze might be better than hurling lunch meat.

So, it really does depend on the team and our best guess, just as history teaches us. Right. Some people backed beta and others picked up VHS. Flash forward a few dozen years only to find out that both decisions were wrong because DVDs, er, Blu-Rays and digital files win for now.

All this leads to a different approach. It seems to me that business choices have nothing to do with sizing everything up into 'either' and 'or' columns. Companies are better off innovating products and services that consumers have never seen and then refining those innovations once they are released in the marketplace based on consumer input, while keeping a watchful eye any inspirations that occur within every marketplace with every launch. That, of course, and everything needs to be weighed against what's next — information and ideas and innovations that consumers know nothing about it.

Ergo, Facebook bought Instagram for $1 billion because the guy in the buyer's back room had just as much time but came up with a ham sandwich. They called it Timeline. Meanwhile, Instragram went niche.

Branding: Why I Stopped Worrying About Being Batman

There has been plenty of buzz-up over Peter Shankman's declaration that people have one brand — not personal or professional (hat tip: Olivier Blanchard). And while this verdict has garnered some attention because Shankman is well followed, the epiphany isn't so special.

It has always been true, even if "brand" is the wrong word. He's talking about character.

"Every single day, someone directs me to their LinkedIn profile to learn more about them. You know what I do when they do that?" Shankman says. "I go right to Facebook and search on their name there. Why? Because I know they're on their best behavior on LinkedIn, but on Facebook, they're going to be 'real.' Guess what? I'm not the only person who thinks this way."

In his example, he's right. People share different things in different places.

So unless you are a superhero — Superman, Batman, Spiderman,  Iron Man, and the like — there is no division between your personal and professional lives. In fact, superheroes aren't so good at having two either. Even people who swap their public personas with secret identities by finding the closest phone booth or sliding down a bat pole, tend to struggle in attempting to juggle multiple personalities.

But that is not to say Shankman is right. He is presenting a conversation starter, not a conclusion.

People ought to give up on brands. People ought to give up on judgments. 

As a society, we set different behavioral boundaries in different places: Someone might behave differently in church than they would at the local pub. It's a mistake to think just because you are exposed to someone at only one location or the other somehow means they are pulling a fast one.

On the contrary, the fact that they exhibit appropriate behaviors in two different environments is admirable. It demonstrates how they can adapt to a variety of social settings. In fact, if people acted the same in church as they did in a pub, you might be more concerned about them.

The same can be said about social networks too. People act differently on Facebook and LinkedIn because each community has different behavioral expectations. And, for many people who work in communication-related fields, we probably have a lot more than merely two. Everyone does, really.

Given that, the opposite of what Shankman is getting at bears truth too. People who are able to encapsulate their entirety into a single "brand" that consists of readily available attributes would be remarkably 1-dimensional and probably boring. At minimum, they are most likely faking it.

Let's face it. If you can fit everything about yourself within the confines of an elevator speech that people can actually remember, then you have a bigger problem than figuring out what to write down on the cocktail napkin so you can commit it to memory. Well-rounded people are not organizations where a mission, vision, and voice encompasses an agreed upon direction for every facet of operations.

In fact, this chronic need to ferret out the "truth about people," as Shankman suggests, says more about those lurkers than it could ever say about the people they investigate. Short of discovering someone is ethically and morally dysfunctional or engaged in something illegal, why can't we learn to accept what people want to share with us?

How I learned to stop worrying about my brand like Batman.

When I was just beginning my career, long before social media, I was especially concerned about my professional brand. I would literally adopt a different demeanor, dress, and attitude to exhibit a certain sense of serious professionalism to offset my youthful age, a barrier for many overly judgmental prospects.

While it worked well enough, there was some consequence. Being overtly aware of everything you say, do, and share (as a by-product of what you project) can be stifling. It also creates the propensity for fear and doubt because purposely exhibiting certain qualities also means chronically keeping score.

Isn't that the fundamental reason most people are afraid to speak in public? They are too worried about what other people might think of them. Did they like what I said? Do they see me as an expert? Do they agree with my conclusions? And so on and so forth.

It was too maddening to maintain. So, I gave it up. Instead, I decided to adopt a basic principle. I care what people think, but I don't care what they might think of me. Why should I? I'm a complex person.

People are too complex for a single brand. Get over it.

I like Mozart as much as metal (as well as alternative, punk, country, rap, hip hop, folk, etc.). I am both fiscally conservative and socially committed. I have faith, but don't measure others against my beliefs. I enjoy clinical books that some people call boorish and contemporary books that others call controversial. I wear a suit when the occasion calls for one, and Doc Martens when it does not.

I could fill a million file cabinets with contradictory likes and another million with things that I haven't made up my mind about. And I certainly don't want to share them all with everyone or, in some cases, with anyone. So what?

If someone is going to imagine a "brand" about me, it will likely depend upon the setting where they meet me offline. So why ought it be any different online? When I eventually decided to make a public page beyond my personal account on Facebook a few weeks ago, it had nothing to do with branding or ego and everything to do with privacy and context.

In other words, while some subjects cross over, others do not. People who want to read about communication-related topics are a little less interested in commentaries about music, literature, and movies. People who want to contact me for a job don't really need to know that I went to a musical production a few nights ago. People whom I have a conversation on Twitter don't need to be part of the conversations I have with select friends and family (and don't really want to be, either).

Sure, Shankman is right that the boundaries between personal and professional sometimes blur, but the course correction doesn't need to be a burden to the individual so much. It needs to burden society.

Just because information exists doesn't mean we need to rifle through it all like an investigative reporter, looking for way to add up the labels and deliver a judgement. If we do need to do that, then it might say more about our own characters than anything we can uncover.