道歉在公关危机中可能有害无益

    2012年，哈佛大学（Harvard）教授，保守派讨厌鬼尼尔•弗格森利用一些极具争议的数据，撰文抨击奥巴马总统。他遭到了严厉的批评，甚至有人要求哈佛审查弗格森是否有资格担任教授。弗格森的回应？他变本加厉地抨击总统，另外还对批评者以牙还牙。最终他全身而退。

    一天，某位不肯透露姓名的公关专员承认了这一事实：“千万不要道歉。”当然，没有谁愿意公开承认这点。

    问题在于，一旦你道歉，就等于你认罪了。再没有辩护的机会，你的支持者失去了立场。

    《评论杂志》(Commentary Magazine)正是以这种方式对扎卡瑞亚的第一次剽窃丑闻展开论述：“毫无疑问，法里德•扎卡瑞亚剽窃了。他承认抄袭了《纽约客》（New Yorker）的一篇文章，并为此道歉。”

    实际上，当我那时尝试着公开质疑扎卡瑞亚过错的严重性时，最常见的反驳是：“他都承认了——你还不服吗？”

    这一规律在鸡毛蒜皮的小事和严肃的大事上同样适用。我认识一个作家，在编辑的要求下，他为一个极小的错误道了歉。他的批评者立即利用这次道歉对他展开抨击。那位编辑尽管承认了自己非常怯懦，但还是炒掉了他。

    迈克尔•杰克逊否认了所有对他的控诉。比尔•考斯比如今也矢口否认他遭受的一切指控。你可以想象，如果这两位遭遇公关危机的演艺人员承认那些控诉属实，他们的生活会变成什么样子。

    网络改变了这一切。不再有门卫来拦住那些不速之客，也不再有礼仪或理性辩论规则。即便你的道歉说服了几个电视制片人、编辑或作者，那又怎么样？他们会被网上混乱噪杂的声音所淹没。（本周在Twitter上，人们用各种恶意的称呼攻击劳特恩，与此同时却声称他们是抵制“仇恨言论”和“网络暴力”的。）

    我们没理由相信Twitter的世界会更加民主。那里没有固定的沟通流程，也没有辩论的准则。理性的讨论会被那些最大、最愤怒的声音所淹没。正如我们所知，网上对话通常会被一小批不具代表性的人主导。爱荷华大学（University of Iowa）对最大的网络社区之一雅虎财经频道（Yahoo Finance）的研究也证实了这一点。这项研究发现，其中50%的评论来自3%的评论者，75%的评论来自11%的评论者。

    显然，如果你完全站不住脚，那你别无选择，只能道歉。但我们通常遇到的却不是这种情况。

    如果劳特恩拒绝让步，那她的情形可能会好得多。比如，她可以指出多年前，卡特总统9岁的女儿艾米曾在白宫的晚宴上看书，并广受媒体批评。（的确，当时媒体一片责难。）劳特恩还可以在媒体上攻击其他人允许青少年穿着休闲裤、T恤和短裤出现在父母的工作场所。

    或许这也起不到什么作用。但我们知道的是，劳特恩遵循了传统智慧，这让她输得精光。（财富中文网）

    译者：严匡正

    In 2012, Harvard professor and conservative gadfly Niall Ferguson published a polemic against President Obama that made some highly debatable uses of data. He came under serious criticism. Some even called on Harvard to review Ferguson’s position. Ferguson’s response? He doubled down on his argument, and returned fire on his critics for good measure. He rode out the storm comfortably.

    “Never say you’re sorry,” a senior public relations executive admitted to me the other day, but only on the condition of anonymity. Absolutely no one wants to admit this in public.

    The trouble is, when you apologize, you admit guilt. And that throws away any chance of a defense. Your supporters have nowhere to go.

    This is how Commentary Magazine began an article about Zakaria during his first plagiarism brouhaha: “There is now little question that Fareed Zakaria is guilty of plagiarism. He has admitted copying a portion of a New Yorker essay and apologized.”

    Indeed, when I tried to question the seriousness of Zakaria’s offense in public at the time, the most common pushback I received was, “He’s admitted it—what’s your problem?”

    The rule applies to the trivial and the serious. I know a writer who apologized for a very small error on the command of his editor. His critics promptly used his apology against him, and the editor, admitting her own cowardice, fired him anyway.

    Michael Jackson denied the allegations levied against him. Bill Cosby is denying those against him today. If you think the two entertainers suffered serious public relations reversals, imagine what they would have been like if they admitted that the alleged accusations were accurate.

    The Internet has changed the game. There are no longer any gatekeepers. There are no longer any rules of civility or reason. Even if you persuade a few TV producers and editors and writers with your apology, so what? They’ll be drowned out by the chaos and cacophony online. (This week on Twitter, people were showering Lauten with spiteful epithets and then boasting that they were taking a stand against “hate speech” and “cyberbullying.”)

    There’s no reason to think the “Twitterverse” is more democratic than anywhere else. There is no established process. There are no rules of debate. The conversation, such as it is, is drowned out by the loudest, angriest voices. And as we all know, and a recent study confirmed, online conversations are often dominated by a small, unrepresentative few, anyway (the University of Iowa, in a study of one of the Internet’s biggest sites, Yahoo Finance, found that 50% of all comments came from just 3% of the commenters—and 75% came from just 11% of them.)

    Clearly, if you are in a completely untenable situation you are going to have no choice but to apologize. But that is less often the case than we often suppose.

    Lauten probably would have been better off if she had refused to back down. Instead, for example, she might have pointed out that president carter’s daughter Amy was widely criticized in the media many years ago for reading a book at a white house dinner, when she was only nine years old. (and yes, there was a big media uproar at the time). Lauten could have attacked others in the media for giving teenagers a green light to turn up to their parents’ business functions in cargo pants, t-shirts, and shorts.

    Maybe this wouldn’t have worked. What we do know is that Lauten followed conventional wisdom, and it got her absolutely nothing.