Larry D. Lauer

This week, the sex scandal at Penn State that cost the jobs of the winningest coach in football history, and a highly respected university president, was an American tragedy of the first order. It is one of those horrible events that brings an empty, sour feeling inside… one that settles in the pit of the stomach and just won’t go away.

Consultants and commentators have weighed-in suggesting that the situation has been grossly mishandled. Of course, they would. It’s their job to think they could have handled it better! “Get all the facts, and get them all out quickly, ” is their conventional advice.  “Tell the whole truth, and leave no unreported facts that surely will come out later.”  “Do the right thing from the very beginning,” they say. “In Penn State’s case, the guilty parties should have been fired long ago.” Indeed, judgements abound about what should have been done, and it’s all good advice. 

But… you most likely will get the word about a crisis like this in a shocking phone call just as you settle down late in the evening with a glass of wine or two, or even worse… when you are sound asleep in the middle of the night!  “Not now,” you shout. I have so many other deadlines to deal with tomorrow. I don’t even know where to start!”

An experienced communication officer knows all the “rules” about crisis management. But, finding all the facts at the worst possible time about a scandal like this can be nearly  impossible, let alone finding them quickly. You can’t tell a whole truth that you don’t know. And what makes it worse is that people tend to filter truth quite differently when they know they did something really dumb!

I know! I have been through several serious athletics crises over the years, and what comes to mind now is that there is no way to really fix the Penn State situation. You prepare a statement with whatever facts you can find quickly. You make a fact sheet so you can be consistent each time you answer questions. You contact the affected parties first, and then the press. You try to follow the crisis chapter in the textbook to the letter. This is the way it’s supposed to happen. 

The awful reality, however,  is that most of the time you will actually learn about a crisis like this from the press! Their’s is the very first call you get.  “I’ll look into it and get back to you,”  is all you can say as the satellite TV trucks pull into your driveway!  Now what?  Already, the situation seems beyond control. 

As you investigate you find that each player in the drama has a different understanding of his or her responsibility. Once they passed the matter on to someone else, they are certain they have no further concern. And eventually, everyone in the chain of command is able to conclude to their own satisfaction that they did what they could. Responsibility now is someone elses.  So what can you say until due process takes its course?

The public, however, always thinks the communication officer and senior officials know the complete truth.  They are just not telling it, or are covering up something, or are spinning the facts in some way. But truthfully, you may never know the whole truth.  Bits and pieces of new facts, opinions and truths will continue to roll out. Decisions about futures and careers now will take time, and the whole ugly episode is likely to remain a big mess for a long time.  You keep updating your fact sheet. You try to cut your losses. It’s about all you can do.

My experience suggests that scars from crises like this almost always linger for years.  This is so, even when all the crisis management rules have been followed. Eventually the institution will move on. Time does heal.  But for many Penn State students, faculty, staff, alumni, trustees, and others like me, the ache in the pit of the stomach will continue for a very long time.