The problem with crisis comms: why our presence sparks suspicion
Well-publicised situations perpetuate the worst stereotypes about crisis PR as a tool for manipulation rather than reputation management. From political crises to royal controversies, the presence of a crisis PR team is often framed as evidence of wrongdoing rather than a necessary function of reputation management.
Anton Chekhov once said, “Any idiot can face a crisis; it’s this day-to-day living that wears you out.” For crisis communications professionals, however, the crisis is the day-to-day living. The challenge is not just managing the immediate fallout but navigating the peculiar truth that our very presence can be enough to make people suddenly pay attention. When a celebrity, CEO, or brand is reported to have hired a crisis comms consultant, the assumption is that they have something to hide.
The visibility dilemma in crisis PR
Unlike other PR disciplines where the actions and accolades are public knowledge, crisis communications often operates in the shadows. Our job is to provide strategic counsel, manage reputational risk, and, when necessary, reshape narratives to reflect the truth rather than public misconception. And yet, our existence in a crisis often confirms suspicions that ‘something must be wrong.’
Most recently, celebrity Justin Baldoni’s crisis PR team were reported to have claimed, “You know we can bury anyone,” utilising a playbook of smear tactics, as unpicked in a New York Times article. These well-publicised situations perpetuate the worst stereotypes about crisis PR as a tool for manipulation rather than reputation management. From political crises to royal controversies, the presence of a crisis PR team is often framed as evidence of wrongdoing rather than a necessary function of reputation management.
The public perception of crisis PR as a shadowy, Machiavellian industry isn’t new. The Telegraph describes it as the “murky world of crisis PR”, where professionals are assumed to be working behind the scenes to salvage reputations at any cost. But this assumption fails to recognise that crisis PR, when done ethically, is about strategy, accountability, and guiding organisations through complex reputational challenges.
Popular culture only adds to this perception. The infamous Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It is a character who descends upon the office only when things are going badly, rarely seen outside of those scenarios. His presence signifies that a crisis is spiralling, and his descent into chaos – shouting, intimidating, and desperately trying to control the narrative – reinforces the idea that crisis PR is a last resort, reactive rather than strategic. In Our Brand is Crisis, Sandra Bullock’s character epitomises the cutthroat nature of political PR, where winning trumps ethics. Similarly, the iconic Olivia Pope in Scandal operates in the shadows, ‘handling’ crises with a blend of sharp strategy and questionable morality, further embedding the idea that crisis comms is more about fixing than informing.
The ethics of reputation management
Reputation management is about taking responsibility and rebuilding trust, not simply repairing a damaged image. Ethical crisis communications is not about making the bad look good; it is about ensuring that the true version of events is heard above the noise. A well-handled crisis does not erase wrongdoing; it contextualises it, allowing for accountability, course correction, and ultimately, trust rebuilding.
This might mean guiding a misinformed spokesperson on what needs to be heard – helping them communicate facts clearly, acknowledge past missteps, and set out meaningful corrective actions. It can also involve curating the right policies, investigations, and evidence into the public sphere, ensuring that genuine change is not only promised but demonstrably enacted.
In some cases, it’s about shutting down misinformation before it takes hold, ensuring that the public debate is shaped by facts rather than speculation. The CIPR’s Code of Conduct safeguards the integrity of crisis communications, ensuring PR professionals operate within clear ethical boundaries.
And yet, the perception persists. The idea of ‘fixers’ working in the background conjures up images of spin doctors deploying distraction tactics. The truth is often far less cinematic. Crisis professionals are not puppet masters; they are navigators. Their role is to help organisations make principled, strategic decisions when the stakes are at their highest.
Year-round crisis communications
While this perception may exist, most crisis communications professionals know that good crisis management is all about preparation. It seems entirely logical that any diligent CEO might – and arguably should – retain crisis communications experts not just in response to crises, but to prevent them from escalating in the first place.
The CIPR Crisis Communications Network repeatedly emphasises that the best way to mitigate a crisis is to be prepared for one. Organisations that integrate crisis communications into their long-term strategy – whether by retaining external consultants or investing in in-house crisis PR teams – are far better equipped to manage reputational threats before they spiral.
These experts don’t just step in when disaster strikes; they guide leadership teams year-round, identifying vulnerabilities, strengthening messaging, and ensuring that if a crisis does occur, it can be swiftly contained. In-house crisis teams play a critical role in assessing risk, providing strategic counsel, and embedding crisis-readiness into the daily workings of a business. Rather than being reactive fire-fighters, their value lies in steering organisations away from crises before they fully form – or, at the very least, ensuring they are met with a measured, strategic response.
The irony of invisibility
Perhaps the greatest irony of crisis communications is that success is often measured in absence. If a crisis is mitigated or expertly managed, it dissipates before becoming a headline frenzy. A good crisis comms professional ensures that leadership is seen to be taking the right actions, while they themselves remain unseen, rather than becoming part of the story.
So how do we change the narrative? Or does the nature of our work mean that suspicion is simply part of the territory? After all, when reputational crises hit, it is rarely the crisis comms professional that needs to be in the spotlight. Maybe it’s time for a rebrand of ‘crisis communications’.
Kayleigh-Anne Soryal is a member of the CIPR Crisis Comms Network, where this blog was first published.
Further reading
Crisis communications: A timely lesson for schools, colleges and universities
Crises, chaos and calm – maintaining untarnished reputations
Andy Coulson: 'I enjoy doing crisis comms work because I lived it.'