Organizational Public Relations

A Political Perspective

Christopher Spicer

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781136688171
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Business
• Subtopic: Public Relations
• Index: Business

Public relations practitioners are often called upon to help chart their organization's strategic development, thus functioning as managerial decision makers linking the organization to its larger environment. This book is about understanding organizations, especially the role played by organizational decision making in the development and implementation of public relations programs and activities. It emphasizes the ways in which an organization's culture and decision making processes ultimately influence the success or failure of their public relations efforts. The research, case studies, and author's interpretations and suggestions explore the often confusing netherworld of organizational mindsets -- particularly as those world views affect the organization's relations with clients and other stakeholders. Understanding organizational politics is the way to understanding how and why decisions are made by the organization's dominant coalition. The primary goal of this text is to enhance our understanding of the ways in which organizations "work" -- the political process that accompanies organizational decision making. As an instrumental participant in the organizational political process, the public relations practitioner must posess knowledge and understanding of the organization's political process in order to succeed within that organization. Given the need for public relations practitioners to form coalitions, negotiate consensus, and advocate organizational interests, the political system metaphor is most approriate for understanding the relationship between organizational power and organizational public relations. This book, then, "steps back" from a focus solely on the design of public relations programs, and instead examines how the impetus for those programs emerges within the organization as a result of organizational politics in action. Its special features include:
* practitioner responses at the end of each chapter providing commentary on the usefulness of the ideas presented;
* sidebars from popular sources illustrating theories;
* new case studies;
* merging of management and organizational theory and research with communication theory and research;
* a focus on external stakeholders from both an advocacy and a collaborative frame resulting in the creation of a "collaborative advocacy" framework for external communication; and
* an extended examination of ethical considerations pertaining to organizational decision making and communication.

CHAPTER 1

Assumptions

It is not who you are that matters, but what people think you are.

—Attributed to Joseph P. Kennedy, advice to his children

Although not about public relations per se, Kennedy’s comment is certainly indicative of the predominant cultural view of public relations prevalent in our society. Image over substance, style over content, looking good over being good. It is a cynical view, a view that is not always, or even usually, accurate. It is a view, however, that is perpetuated by what we do as well as by what we do not do.

Actions versus image? Good deeds versus glowing words? Manipulation versus caring? Perception versus reality? We so often treat these as polarized concepts, pairs of competing realities that anchor either end of a continuum. The purpose of this book is to examine how the range of perceptions on the continuum is reflected in the decision making apparatus of modern organizations. In this chapter, I present the basic assumptions that guide my understanding of organizational public relations, both what it is and what it could be. These nine assumptions form the foundation on which we build our understanding of the intersection of organizational decision making and public relations. As a means of beginning, I offer three case studies.

CASE STUDY 1.1—THE MISADVENTURES OF SELLING AN 8-TON SCULPTURE

Henry Moore’s 8-ton bronze sculpture “Vertebrae,” which stands at Fourth Avenue and Madison Street, has been sold to an undisclosed buyer in Japan. And the Seattle art community is outraged. (Hackett, 1986a, p. A1)

This was the lead paragraph in a story published in one of two local Seattle, Washington daily newspapers detailing the confusing, convoluted, and often contradictory efforts of two organizations to sell a sculpture many Seattlites considered their own—a piece of very public art.

Seafirst Bank, the largest bank in the state of Washington, bought a sculpture known as the “Vertebrae” in 1971 for a reported $165,000 (Hackett, 1986a). The creator of the piece, British artist Henry Moore, is acclaimed for his large (in this case 8-ton) abstract bronzes often representative of the human body. “Vertebrae” was installed in a corner of the public plaza at the Seafirst Building in full view of untold millions of people who walked by it (or children who climbed on it) over the course of its 15-year presence. “Vertebrae” became a Seattle landmark, perhaps not treasured but certainly accepted as a part of the city scene. As a newspaper editorial noted, “Although the piece was not owned by the city, it was invariably included in lists of art on public display” (Sale Threatens “Public Treasure,” 1986, p. A10).

In 1983 Seafirst Bank’s corporate headquarters moved into a new building a couple of blocks away. Their old building was sold to JMB Realty headquartered in Chicago. All was fine, at least in the public’s view, until a story appeared in Seattle’s newspapers on August 28, 1986 announcing that “Vertebrae” had been sold by JMB Realty to an undisclosed buyer for a substantial profit. More alarming was the announcement that “Vertebrae” would be packed up and crated off the following Saturday, 2 days after the story appeared.

At this point the mystery of who owned “Vertebrae,” who sold “Vertebrae,” and to whom it was sold gets murky. The first series of stories published in the local papers indicated that JMB Realty bought “Vertebrae” from Seafirst for $850,000. Seafirst representatives claimed to have sold the sculpture to JMB Realty with the assumption that it would remain in place (Hackett, 1986). Unexpectedly, then, JMB Realty sold it because “a client who insists on anonymity made us such a substantial offer senior management decided to take it” (Hackett, 1986a, p. A1).

The Seattle art community, as you might well imagine, was in an uproar. The director of the Seattle Art Commission’s Art in Public Places Program said, “I’m shocked JMB Realty didn’t bother to talk to the people in this city before selling a piece of art that is valuable to us all. They are removing a public landmark” (Hackett, 1986a, p. A5).

As more information about the sale was reported, the apparent straightforwardness of the initial report of the transaction took a very convoluted turn. From reading reports in the local newspapers, one is left with the impression that no one really knew (or would say) what was going on or who owned or sold the piece. For example:

• A JMB Realty spokesperson in Chicago was quoted as saying, “We were led to believe that if we did not purchase the piece, it would be sold to this third party, who was not from Seattle” (Noble, 1986a, p. C1).
• A spokesperson for Seafirst bank “did not know who made the initial offer.” She said the bank official who handled the transaction was on vacation and could not be reached (Noble, 1986a, p. C2).
• The local JMB general manager said, “They (corporate officials) make those decisions there (in Chicago). I can only put in my input” (Noble, 1986a, p. C2).
• “Officials of the JMB Property Management Corp. yesterday made an about-face and told city officials the firm ‘wasn’t the buyer or the seller’ of Henry Moore’s sculpture ‘Vertebrae’” (Noble, 1986b, p. A1).

Ultimately, it appears that JMB Realty, rather than owning “Vertebrae” outright, had the right of first refusal to any offer tendered to Seafirst, the original owner. This apparent legal arrangement came to light when the city of Seattle refused to give the company charged with moving “Vertebrae” the permits required to undertake such a massive move in a public space.

The second interpretation of the sale, a very different narrative from the first, only added to the confusion surrounding who sold or bought “Vertebrae” because suddenly there were two apparent sales. A Boston art consultant working for Seafirst confirmed that he sold “Vertebrae” to an undisclosed buyer “which in turn triggered the first right of refusal by JMB and JMB bought it” (Noble & Sevem, 1986, p. A3). Apparently, JMB matched the undisclosed offer, did own the sculpture and then resold it, perhaps to the original undisclosed buyer or to a different one.

Regardless of who really sold what to whom and when, the act itself still rankled as indicated in a September 7, 1986 editorial in the Seattle Times:

Art-Sale Blunder Hurts Bank Image

Someday, perhaps a textbook for public-relations people may cite the Seattle uproar over the Henry Moore sculpture “Vertebrae” as a case study in how not to enhance a corporation’s image.

Fuming for days about the pending loss of the landmark sculpture from the former Seafirst building plaza, many local art lovers were led to believe that the blame for selling “Vertebrae” to an out-of-town buyer lay with the building’s new owner, the Chicago-based JMB Realty Corp.

Now it turns out that—as much as anyone—Seafirst Bank bears the responsibility, a fact that contradicted earlier statements from the bank as well as JMB. (The bank issued a belated apology a week later.)

Too bad for Seafirst, since a single public-relations blunder may have undone much of the careful, patient rebuilding of the bank’s image damaged in the energy-loan fiascoes of several years ago.

One irate Seattlite telephoned a suggestion that the Seafirst slogan, “Expect Excellence,” should be changed to “Expect Ambivalence.” (Art Sale Blunder Hurts Bank Image, 1986, p. A4)

Even though “Vertebrae” disappeared from the front pages of the newspaper, the story did not die. The artist, Henry Moore, however, did. Ironically, Henry Moore died on August 31, less than a month after the initial reports of the “Vertebrae” sale. Question: What happens to the price of an already famous artist’s works when he or she dies? Answer: They skyrocket. The worth of “Vertebrae” “made a ‘quantum leap’ in value after Moore’s death Aug. 31” to an estimated $2 million (Hackett, 1986b, p. A1). Whew!

On October 9, 1986, a month after Henry Moore’s death, Seafirst Bank and JMB Realty reportedly donated an estimated $2 million to the Seattle Art Museum that, in turn, bought “Vertebrae” from an undisclosed Japanese buyer (Hackett, 1986b, p. A1). The buyer made an enormous profit, Seafirst and JMB reclaimed some of their stature, the art museum got a substantial donation, and the people of Seattle could once again pass “Vertebrae” knowing it would stay in place. All’s well that ends well.

CASE STUDY 1.2—SAVING A CHILD’S LIFE SHOULDN’T BE SO DIFFICULT

Kid’s Place Hospital is a nonprofit hospital devoted to the care and treatment of children under the age of 18. It is located in a quiet, largely residential upper-middle class suburb of a large metropolitan area. Kid’s Place offers a wide variety of medical services, many of them nonroutine or experimental, on the cutting edge of medical technology and treatment. One of the most acclaimed services is Kid’s Place emergency trauma unit. Children, especially those severely injured in accidents, such as car crashes or burns, are rushed to Kid’s Place as quickly as possible from a six-state area. Given modern transportation, many of the trauma cases come to the metropolitan area by helicopter. Decisions surrounding the use of helicopters drives the plot of our story.

Helicopters, kinds of air ambulances, transport injured children to Kid’s Place and land in one of three places. If the trauma is deemed not immediately life-threatening, the helicopter lands at a helipad at a downtown hospital, the patient is transferred to a waiting ambulance and driven the six miles to Kid’s Place. If the trauma is somewhat more threatening, the helicopter can land in a field approximately one mile from Kid’s Place emergency room. The patient is again transferred to an ambulance for the one mile ride. Finally, if the trauma is exceedingly life-threatening, if time is of the utmost essence, the helicopter will land on a small patch of grass on the campus of Kid’s Place just outside the emergency room entrance. In this case, the patient is wheeled directly into the emergency room with no transfer or ambulance ride.

In 1984, Kid’s Place management decided to build a permanent helipad on the grounds of Kid’s Place, preferably in the grassy spot right outside the emergency room door. This sounded like a great idea to all of the senior staff at the meeting. If air ambulances could land at the emergency room door, the time delivering patients to expert care would be greatly reduced. Lives would be saved. Not just any life, but a child’s life.

Kid’s Place personnel began the internal planning process for the helipad, knowing they would have to get approval from the city. Because a helipad is little more than a concrete slab with some lines painted on it and landing lights around it, there was not a great deal of architectural design involved. Kid’s Place already owned the land on which the proposed helipad was to go, so there was no need to find and purchase a suitable space. Indeed, everything seemed so simple and straightforward that the CEO of Kid’s Place announced, at a small press conference in November 1984, that the hospital was building a helipad. The announcement contained all kinds of glowing generalities about how the on-site helipad would improve the care of children and so forth. You can just imagine. A leading doctor from the hospital and the head of medical services also spoke, adding the weight of medical expertise to the announcement.

In a day or two, the daily newspaper published a short story on the third page of the local news section of the paper about the proposed helipad. The story was very positive in tone; the reporter quoted copiously from the CEO and head of medical services. Kid’s Place was apparently doing what it did best—caring for the needs of children. The CEO was happy with the coverage, the director of public relations was happy with the coverage, and the medical director was happy with the coverage. The plans were submitted to the city department of construction and land use for approval, approval that was expected to be routine and quick.

Some people who read the story, people who lived in the upper-middle class neighborhood where the hospital is located, were not as happy as the good folks at Kid’s Place. Indeed, some of them were so upset that they got on the telephone and started calling their neighbors. Then, they convened a public meeting to give voice to their growing hostility toward the idea of helicopters hovering over their homes and their children’s playgrounds at all hours of the day and night. This meeting led to other meetings of other neighborhood groups (e.g., a community club, the PTA for the local elementary school, a condominium owners’ association, residents of a retirement home), who discussed the proposed flight plan for the air ambulances. These meetings, in turn, led to the formation of an umbrella group, Citizens Against Helicopters, that began a coordinated opposition to Kid’s Place proposal by filing a complaint with the city’s department of construction and land use.

A hastily called open community meeting to soothe ruffled feathers between Kid’s Place administrators (the CEO, medical director, and public relations director) and members of the neighborhood ended in acrimonious vocal debates and increasing mistrust. The city’s department of construction and land use put a hold on the necessary permits, kicking the project upstairs to the mayor’s office.

As opposition mounted and time went by, Kid’s Place found itself mired in a legal tangle. Among other actions, the opponents demanded that Kid’s Place needed state approval, that an environmental impact study needed to be conducted, and that the Federal Aviation Administration needed to approve the flight plans. The opposition listed six major points of contention:

1. Kid’s Place is insensitive to the character of the neighborhood.
2. Kid’s Place is secretive in making decisions.
3. The medical need for the increased use of air ambulances has not been proven.
4. Helicopters are too expensive to operate.
5. Helicopters are too dangerous to be flying over a family-oriented neighborhood with schools and playgrounds.
6. Helicopters are too no...