(This week, PR News editors Phil Hall and Courtney Barnes revisit the communications foul-up during the recent West Virginia coal mining tragedy and consider its
implications for PR professionals.)
COURTNEY: After watching the recent West Virginia coal mining tragedy unfold, I found the situation to be yet another example of
poorly handled communications with devastating results. FEMA (thanks in part to Michael Brown's pathetic PR presence) was in the hot seat in the wake of Katrina, as was
the American Red Cross (whose president, Marsha Evans, later stepped down). Now the International Coal Group (ICG) is following suit with its deplorable crisis
management after miscommunicating the condition of the trapped miners to their families. Once the initial blow (incorrect news that there were 12 survivors) had been dealt, three
hours of celebration passed before the truth was conveyed to family members, though reports are now surfacing that rescuers and ICG representatives knew of their mistake a mere 20
minutes after its utterance. What does this mean for PR practitioners in the face of a public tragedy, and how can one recover from a misstep as deadly as this?
PHIL: One thing you don't do is follow the example of Scott McClellan, the White House press secretary, who told the media the morning of the tragic news that the Bush
Administration made mine safety a "top priority" for the past five years. Oh? The Sago coal mine where the deaths occurred was still operating despite racking up 273 safety
violations within the past two years, including violations for inadequate safeguards against the collapse of the mine roof and inadequate ventilation to guard against toxic gas
build-up. In the past five years, 42 miners and contractors were injured in accidents at Sago, which is abnormally high for a single mining operation. ICG purchased the mine two
months ago from Anker West Virginia, and ICG's chief executive Bennett K. Hatfield told the Washington Post during the crisis: "Much of the bad history you're
talking about was beyond our reach and ability to control." So the first PR lesson would be: Don't go around pretending you are not responsible for a crisis.
COURTNEY: And then there's Hatfield's comments in the press conference, one of which was: "Welcome to the worst day of my life." This struck me as a poor facade to
show the watching public, especially the family members of the deceased who were surely having a far worse day than Hatfield. Moreover, the messages conveyed to the media
expressed a range of emotions from denial to insensitivity to confusion, and the main excuse for allowing the miscommunication to happen in the first place - reportedly crossed
wires during a cell phone conversation - suggests an extremely uncoordinated communications effort. PR professionals (who should have learned from the disasters of 2005) must
remember first and foremost to check and double check their information before conveying it, especially when it is literally a matter of life and death.
PHIL: If the communications debacle in West Virginia is any indication, there were no PR professionals at work there. In the midst of Katrina, there were PR
professionals like Arthur Wiese of Entergy Corp. and Sam Falcona of ConocoPhillips, who were not only prepared well in advance of the potential for catastrophic
hurriance-related damage but who also worked overtime to ensure everyone had up-to-date and correct information regarding their respective operations and the safety of their teams
who were in the field. (You can read about them in our January 9 edition).
COURTNEY: It also highlights the bifurcated nature of crisis management in public relations, as there is a difference between dealing with crises that spawn from, say,
fraudulent behavior among execs, versus crises that involve the loss of life. While both impact companies, instances like this should remind PR managers of the discrepancy
between crisis prevention and crisis management, plus the need for absolute transparency once all hell breaks loose. It is not doing ICG any good to have dirty tidbits about
their carelessness slowly emerge in the days and weeks following the tragedy; coming clean immediately is always a best practice.