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Risk and crisis communication
Sep. 8th, 2009 08:04 amIn a previous post, I noted that my homework for the next month or so is to read, understand, and review Heath and O'Hair's Handbook of Risk and Crisis Communication. Thus far, it's a fascinating topic, but I have to preface the ongoing review that will appear here in coming days with a complaint: any book with a cover price of US$250 better be a superior-quality product. It should not be printed in 8 point Times New Roman (though they at least chose a font that is legible at this size), and someone should have hired an editor or at least a proofreader. In the first 50 pages, it's been a rare two-page spread that didn't contain at least one significant error, and some are howlers. My favorite thus far: "chemical weapons such as... mustard" (p. 31). I assume they meant "mustard gas", but possibly the authors are fatally allergic to Dijon.
The most interesting point thus far in the book is the repeated emphasis on how risk and crisis communication have evolved during the past few decades, an evolution that parallels a change in how communication itself is being perceived in other disciplines. Historically, such communication was typically a one-way delivery of information from experts to their audience, with an emphasis on factual scientific or engineering data and an "appeal to authority" as a means of persuasion: "I'm the expert, and you should listen to me and accept my verdict because, after all, it's logical and I know best what you need to hear." That's not nearly so much of an exaggeration as you might think. This approach is often described as a monologue, because only one voice is heard.
The more nuanced modern view of communication accepts that perceptions of risk are intensely subjective (personal), and that the success of any communication depends critically on understanding this. Social construction and cultural studies have been justly pilloried for some of their loonier notions, but if they're remembered for nothing else, they'll be remembered because of the important insight that communication is always context-dependent and subjective. To ensure that communication happens, it's necessary to change monologue into dialogue, which means that all voices must be heard. In the context of risk communication, that means the risk creators (e.g., governments, organizations) must give the risk bearers (e.g., the public, employees of a company) a chance to be heard. This creates a dialogue, and (in one of the better metaphors thus far in the book) even if the result is not symphony, it is at least not cacophony. This changes the model from a traditional focus on persuasion to one based on building consensus.
By understanding that risk is inherently subjective, and by taking measures to acknowledge this, it becomes possible to understand the diverse perspectives on risk and crisis and accommodate those perspectives. Experts may be more skillful at quantifying risk, but only those affected by the risk can explain the meaning of those quantities. That's important stuff, and the notion of dialogue is something I'll be emphasizing in my upcoming articles on social media. (Part I got shipped to Eric Ray of techwr-l last night; part II is well underway. Stay tuned!)
The most interesting point thus far in the book is the repeated emphasis on how risk and crisis communication have evolved during the past few decades, an evolution that parallels a change in how communication itself is being perceived in other disciplines. Historically, such communication was typically a one-way delivery of information from experts to their audience, with an emphasis on factual scientific or engineering data and an "appeal to authority" as a means of persuasion: "I'm the expert, and you should listen to me and accept my verdict because, after all, it's logical and I know best what you need to hear." That's not nearly so much of an exaggeration as you might think. This approach is often described as a monologue, because only one voice is heard.
The more nuanced modern view of communication accepts that perceptions of risk are intensely subjective (personal), and that the success of any communication depends critically on understanding this. Social construction and cultural studies have been justly pilloried for some of their loonier notions, but if they're remembered for nothing else, they'll be remembered because of the important insight that communication is always context-dependent and subjective. To ensure that communication happens, it's necessary to change monologue into dialogue, which means that all voices must be heard. In the context of risk communication, that means the risk creators (e.g., governments, organizations) must give the risk bearers (e.g., the public, employees of a company) a chance to be heard. This creates a dialogue, and (in one of the better metaphors thus far in the book) even if the result is not symphony, it is at least not cacophony. This changes the model from a traditional focus on persuasion to one based on building consensus.
By understanding that risk is inherently subjective, and by taking measures to acknowledge this, it becomes possible to understand the diverse perspectives on risk and crisis and accommodate those perspectives. Experts may be more skillful at quantifying risk, but only those affected by the risk can explain the meaning of those quantities. That's important stuff, and the notion of dialogue is something I'll be emphasizing in my upcoming articles on social media. (Part I got shipped to Eric Ray of techwr-l last night; part II is well underway. Stay tuned!)