10:28 AM Thursday June 9, 2011
by Dorie Clark
Eventually, every leader will make a mistake for which he or she must apologize. The screw-up might be personal (Arnold Schwarzenegger's extramarital escapades), corporate (TEPCO president Masataka Shimizu's mishandling of his company's nuclear power plant crisis), or simply banal (inadvertently insulting a colleague's wardrobe).
The rash of mea culpas we've seen in recent months — culminating this week in Congressman Anthony Weiner's press conference to explain his tawdry tweets — had brought to mind a mistake-fuelled media frenzy from my past: Howard Dean's famous scream, and the lessons we learned from it.
As New Hampshire communications director for Dean's 2004 presidential bid, I watched on TV as he gave that now-infamous concession speech after the Iowa caucuses. Disappointed with his third-place finish, he decided to rally the troops with his bold vision for a national comeback. "We're going to South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota..." As the list of states got longer and Dean's voice became more feverish, our press intern Greg laid it out: "He looks like the Incredible Hulk." This was not good.
When the campaign plane touched down in New Hampshire at 3 a.m., we greeted the candidate with a rally and Joan Jett concert at a freezing air hangar in Portsmouth. But we knew the "Dean Scream" was going to become a problem. In truth, he didn't do anything wrong: the room in Iowa was painfully loud; he was only screaming to be heard above the crowd. But that's not how it played (again and again) on cable TV, which turned a minor screw-up into a media maelstrom. So how do you move forward?
First, you have to acknowledge the elephant in the room. If you're running a business and something publicly embarrassing has transpired, no one can focus on real issues (sales targets, expansion plans, the quarterly financials) as long as they're fixated on the error. It might temporarily feel better to slink off but to admit the mistake expedites the recovery process. (Weiner could have saved himself a world of hurt by admitting upfront he sent the naughty tweet, rather than letting it play out in the media for a week.)
Next — if appropriate — try to laugh at yourself. That gives others (much-needed) permission to do the same. Dean went on David Letterman and subjected himself to a scream-related "Top 10" list of campaign turnaround strategy suggestions. (The first was "switch to decaf.") After all, nobody wants a leader who takes himself too seriously.
You also have to reframe the discussion. An endless stream of television pundits spent weeks replaying the clip and parsing whether or not Dean was crazy — a storyline (fueled by opposing campaigns) that's not exactly helpful to a prospective commander-in-chief. We had to present a different view of Dean — and fast — to counteract the scream airplay. One of the best ways to show the kinder, gentler side of candidates is to have them interact with their families. Though Dean's wife Judy was camera-shy, she agreed to do a Diane Sawyer sit-down with him following the caucuses so others could see his "husband-and-father" side, fleshing out their perceptions of him.
For a variety of reasons, Dean never got to be president of the United States. (While the techniques above did help him recover to a respectable second-place finish in New Hampshire, he had already squandered his frontrunner status (before the Scream) in losing Iowa to John Kerry and John Edwards.) But his career since highlights the most important tenet when it comes to recovering from a screw-up: don't forget your base.
Even after leaving the presidential race, he relentlessly campaigned for other candidates and supported state Democratic parties across the country, building loyal connections that helped him win the Democratic National Committee chairmanship in 2005.
If you or your company has a mishap — a failed product launch, an unfortunate misstatement, a publicity gambit gone awry — some people will never forgive you, despite your hard work and entreaties. Forget about them. Work hard to repair trust with your base, explain the situation, and let them be your ambassadors in the world.
Screw-ups happen. But communicating effectively means you can limit the damage, change the conversation, and — just maybe — even strengthen your connection with your truest fans.
What are your strategies for communicating in the wake of an embarrassing situation?
Dorie Clark is a strategy consultant who has worked with clients including Google, Yale University, and the National Park Service. Listen to her podcasts or follow her on Twitter.
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