Category: Uncategorized

Let me come right out and say it: I hate the term shelter-in-place. A lot of my emergency folks will shun me after saying it, but I can’t live a lie anymore. It’s one of those emergency terms that we use. Like the difference between warning and watch and advisory.

When I was younger (and more idealistic), I said that each time we have an emergency–even someone else’s emergency–we should take that opportunity to teach people our terms. Teachable moments, getting people into the emergency mindset and all that. What bullcrap.

How did we get so high-and-mighty and think that our terms were better than those used by the public? Why do we spill ink left, right and center trying to teach people our jargon? Because that’s what it is: jargon.

My biggest problem isn’t that people don’t understand what we’re talking about (though, admittedly, that’s a pretty big problem). My problem is that we continue to use our jargon, and then have to take time to translate it to normal people language. See Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick speaking during the Boston bomber manhunt (fast-forward to :37 seconds for the interesting part):

He says, “We’re asking people to shelter-in-place. In other words, to stay indoors, with their doors locked.” Why does he say both? Because his emergency folks are telling him that people need to shelter-in-place, and his communication folks are telling him that people need to stay inside.

And we do it over and over and over. Here’s a potentially life-saving bit of advice. And now here it is again in plain language. Why not just say it in plain language the first time?

Actor Alan Alda has a great little project about plain language that I’ve been meaning to link to forever. He wants to get people to explain science in plain, regular language. His first attempt was trying to describe what fire was, to a eleven-year-old. Can you do it? Or will you default to your science jargon?

While the project is super-duper interesting (seriously, watch the winning video), this article highlights the danger of our continuing to ignore using plain language warnings:

I probably learned the best lesson about talking in plain words from my youngest grandson. We were on vacation in the Virgin Islands, walking on a path that led to the strangest tree we had ever seen. The trunk was covered with angry looking thorns. I thought, wow, this is a great chance to talk with Matteo about how this tree might have come to look like this. So, we sat on the ground and had a wonderful exchange of ideas about evolution for 45 minutes. He was only 6 or 7, but he was taking in everything I told him.

The next day he was swimming with his cousin and asked her a question about science. She said, “Why don’t you ask your Grandpa about that?” And Matteo said, “I’m not makin’ that mistake again.”

The worst thing that can happen isn’t that people get confused by our warning jargon. It’s that they will stop listening to us! Your shelter-in-place is enough to drive people to alternate, and probably wrong advice givers!

In those early morning hours, I dream that I am an expert. That I’ve established the kind of credibility that’s made my name synonymous with whatever weirdo topic I happen to be dreaming about. I’m famous and everyone knows who I am. I have no such illusions once the alarm clock goes off, as the scales are lifted from my eyes, though. That isn’t to say that I toil in obscurity. I’m very, very lucky that I get invited to travel a bit to talk about my experiences, and literally dozens of you will read this. In the end, this is better than a sharp stick in the eye, and I’m especially grateful for that.

But as much as I enjoy (and take pride in?) my humility, I know that I’m not the only one out there with some modicum of success, and I know that my humility is rare.

A quick search on any social network or website for “branding” will direct you to an orgy of bad advice and five-minute websites with low, low prices for consulting services. They are self-described, “ninjas,” and “gurus.” They can get you thousands of followers. And, given the time constraints that many of us in government communications have, some of these folks sound pretty good. A one-day consultation to get your social networks up and running? A templated crisis communications plan, just plug and chug?

I would urge caution, though. And not just because they’re my competition. But because their advice is probably not that good. That self-described, “Twitter master,” with 87 followers, probably isn’t. The twenty-two year old crisis communications wunderkind might not have the experience you’re looking for.

The reason I bring this up is because of two blog posts I saw earlier this week on exactly this topic. Geoff Livingston posted the excellent Differentiation Requires Show, Not Tell. His point was that people who tell you how wonderful they are and give lots of advice based upon best practices probably isn’t the best for your business. Folks who’ve done the work and actually used the advice (even when failing) they espouse are the ones that can help.

The Internet and in particular social media have empowered thousands, perhaps millions, to start their own businesses. One outcome of the social media movement is how easily people become “thought leaders” or topical influencers.

As a result, we have many paper tigers running about, almost indistinguishable from the ones with real teeth with one singular exception: Results.

Then Mashable followed up with advice on how to avoid those “paper tigers”:

“Rather like achieving academic tenure,” says Lieb, regarding one way to think about the process. “Thought leadership requires a continuum of wisdom, accomplishment, and a body of published work that stands the test of a degree of time.”

…

Same with Seth Godin — decades of proven concepts behind the notion that he’s an authority on the subjects that he tackles. So, the test of time and accomplishment is a big part of thing. The proof in the pudding matters. We are the curators. But it’s an ongoing responsibility. And every time a so-called thought leader self-nominates, we would do well to respond not by retweeting, but by saying something like: Hey, not so fast buddy.

Listen, social media isn’t the Wild West anymore. I’ve been publishing for nearly six-and-a-half years and I still consider myself a newbie. But my length of service isn’t intended to put you off. It’s intended to demonstrate that there are people out there who’ve been doing the work you want to learn about for literally years. There are best practices. There are ways to succeed. And that’s ultimately what you want right? For your agency to succeed in social media?

You don’t need some johnny-come-lately to give you insights; instead, look around for real-world experience and people who are passionate about what they do, not the millions they hope to make (and I assure you, there are those of us out there, especially in government communications, that LOVE this, and do it every day for FREE).

Last summer, we posted on audiences a few times. First on how your audience is a lie, then about how to communicate when there is no audience. The idea behind those posts is that an audience is a passive idea. Someone that just sits there and waits for your message. Thanks to social media, there are fewer and fewer folks that we are trying to message that act that way.

As much influence I think I have, those posts didn’t really change anything. We still talk about target audiences. We still write fact sheets that ignore 95% of the people that might read them. We still talk at people.

Sarah Larcker, writing for Marketing:Health, had a great post recently called, “I Am Not Your ‘Target’,” that made me think of those posts and how far we still need to go to properly understand our publics and effectively communicate with them.

When we generalize to “patients,” we lose resolution. We lose the person inside that patient. And “sufferers?” No one is defined solely by his or her relationship with a disease.

Most polarizing of all is “target.” When we call our customers “targets,” do really we mean that? Do we mean to aim our forces at them and barrage them with messages? Do we expect this to be effective in a world where they can so easily ignore us – and form their own opinions of us?

In emergency management, we’ve undergone a similar change in how we understand our audience as well. They used to be victims. Something terrible happened and we came in and saved the day. But the current FEMA Administrator, Craig Fugate, changed what he called them a few years back. They were no longer “victims,” they were now “survivors.” Dealt a blow, they’ve persevered. They are now excellently placed to help out now, to be partners.

Just that change in how we understand our customers has engendered a change in how we interact with them. We now look to them to volunteer, to help out on scenes. They are a huge part of emergency response today, and they weren’t before.

We, as communicators, need to make a similar change. We need to change how we think about our audiences. That starts with changing what we call them. They are not target audiences; they are not targets to be shot at.

Given that our messages are part of a conversation today–a conversation that is dominated by what they say, not by what we say–they are our partners, our friends. Our collaborators. If they fail to pick up our messaging, it is because we failed to collaborate with them. If our messaging succeeds, it is because they have taken the seed we started with and have amplified it to success.

Much like Dr. King’s voice may have spurred action, it was what his collaborators did with that message that changed the world.