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1 Figure 7.4a Queen Margaret University College, old logo
2
3 Used with permission
4
5 Queen Margaret University College
6
7 EDINBURGH
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9 Figure 7.4b Queen Margaret University College, new logo
10
11 Used with permission
12
13 The concept of a crest was retained to communicate QMUC’s heritage but was
14 simplified and up-dated to reflect the current and future offer of the University
15 College, not that of its early years when the original crest was drawn.
16
11117 With this in mind the symbols within the crest were adjusted to more distinc-
18 tively represent the University College. The main focus, Queen Margaret’s crown,
19 provides a memorable symbol of power, leadership and excellence.
20
21 Vibrant royal blue, futuristic silver and timeless typography complete this modern,
22 streamlined crest without losing the valuable sense of established quality.
23
24 Staff have unique access to a corporate identity manual available solely online. The
25 new visual identity will be consistently used across applications ranging from letter-
26 heads to vehicle livery, uniforms to websites. Figure 7.5 illustrates the application of
27 the new identity at QMUC’s Corstophine campus.
28
29 The corporate identity mix
30
31 Van Riel (1995) highlights the importance of all aspects of the CI mix. Symbolism has
32 clearly been affected by the QMUC corporate identity plan. But what about the other
33 important aspects, behaviour and communication?
34
35 Research conducted among QMUC staff indicated a need for improved communi-
36 cation and leadership in proiritising and balancing demands on lecturers. A number of
37 initiatives have been launched in response.
38
39 An improved career development and appraisal scheme provides a structure for staff
40 to agree individual objectives within a framework which clearly links to organisational
41 aims and objectives. Staff are involved in determining their own criteria for success.
42
43 Dorothy Wright, Director of Human Resources, is planning more far reaching cultural
44 developments:
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Corporate identity 91

1111 Figure 7.5 Queen Margaret University College, Corstophine campus signage
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3 Used with permission
4
5 The strategic plan specifies flexibility, commercial awareness, quality, innovation
6 and creativity as key attributes of the culture we need to foster in order to achieve
7 our corporate aims and objectives. My job is to look at the way we need to behave
8 in order to deliver in these areas.
9
10 Her first task is to run a facilitated session with senior management, using tools such
11 as force field analysis, to identify changes that need to be made. Then, a full attitudes
12 survey has been commissioned to determine staff views.
13
14 Part of the attitudes survey will audit communication, and resources are available to
15 implement more effective two-way communication systems. However, more profound
16 behavioural changes are planned echoing Grunig and Hunt’s (1984) sentiment that instead
of merely altering communication tactics, ‘changing the organisational structure and role
11117 relationships’ are more realistic ways of affecting performance and satisfaction.
18
19 These changes include a major management development programme. As Wright
20 explains,
21
22 Our research will identify the management style needed to help QMUC develop and
23 achieve future success. We will then design a training programme to help effect
24 this approach. I anticipate that it will involve developing coaching skills associated
25 with empowering staff and a communication style aimed at giving and receiving
26 feedback.
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1 Notes
2
3 1 Gregory (1999) provides a useful summary of current thinking:
4
5 The two concepts of identity and image have suffered from a lack of clarity stemming
6 partly from confusion between and conflation of the terms. Broadly speaking, corporate
7 identity was originally seen as the visual symbols an organisation used such as logos,
8 house style and other representations associated with design . . . For some practitioners,
9 that view still persists . . . However, more recently the concept of corporate identity has
10 been broadened to include linkages between corporate strategy and communication . . .
11 In Margulies’ (1997) terms ‘identity means the sum of all the ways a company chooses
12 to identify itself to all its publics.
13
14 2 Nike has launched a number of initiatives to overcome this image which can be explored
15 via its website.
16
11117 3 The term stakeholder refers to groups of publics (typically employees, suppliers, share-
18 holders, customers and the local community) who have a significant effect on, or are
19 affected by, an organisation. For a more detailed consideration of the concept, see Chapters
20 4 and 6.
21
22 4 For an explanation of corporate strategy and the strategic role of public relations, see Chapter
23 4.
24
25 5 For explanations of Grunig’s (1984) symmetric and asymmetric models, see pp. 10–12.
26 6 For further discussion, refer to Franklin (1994) and McNair (1994).
27 7 The semiotic approach is outlined in Chapter 2.
28 8 ‘The way we do things around here’ originated at management consultancy McKinsey &
29
30 Company.
31 9 Triangulation refers to the combining of at least three research methodologies. Cross-
32
33 referencing of findings will improve validity.
34 10 Van Riel (1995) provides a comprehensive summary of approaches.
35 11 See Chapter 1 for an explanation of Grunig’s models.
36 12 The term ‘dominant coalition’ refers to ‘the group of senior managers who control an organ-
37
38 isation’ (Grunig 1992). For further discussion of public relations’ role in dominant coali-
39 tion decision-making see Chapter 4.
40 13 See Hargie and Tourish (2000) for an in-depth guide to communication audits.
41 14 Grundy (1993) provides a useful guide to using force field analysis.
42 15 Unless otherwise stated, quotes are taken from interviews with the author.
43 16 QMUC’s strategic plan is available online at <www.qmuc.ac.uk/stplan.html>.
44 17 Social scientists often refer to groups moving through several stages (forming, storming,
45 norming) before they ‘perform’ and contribute more truthful and useful opinions. For further
46 information refer to Vernelle (1994: 28–9).
47 18 Research was conducted by a number of consultants, including research company System
48 Three and the author.
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1111 8 Public affairs and
2 issues management
3
4 P ublic issues management became one of the key phrases in public relations circles
5 in 1975 (Grunig and Hunt 1984). One definition of public issues management is
6 that it makes it possible for organisations to
7
8 shape government policy on issues which affect them, rather than just to adapt to
9 policy changes. The interactive corporation tries to get a reasonably accurate agenda
10 of public issues that it should be concerned with . . . and develops constructive
11 approaches to these issues.
12
13 (Buchholz, quoted in Grunig and Hunt 1984: 296)
14
15 Defining issues management
16
Issues management is a long-term strategic management practice. Significant changes
11117 or issues which may affect the organisation are identified, and long-term strategic deci-
18 sions are taken which may involve changes in policy and practice. An oft-quoted
19 example of this is the growing importance of the environmental lobby. Ten years ago,
20 most companies did not feel it important to state whether their products were envir-
21 onmentally friendly, dolphin friendly, produced without being tested on animals, or
22 contained genetically modified ingredients.
23
24 Issues management is ‘the process of identifying issues, analysing those issues, setting
25 priorities, selecting programme strategy options, implementing a programme of action
26 and evaluating effectiveness’. It is also managing ‘corporate response to changes in
27 operational environments’ (Cutlip et al. 1985: 15).
28
29 Organisations try to identify and change issues before they become influential on
30 government policy and legislation. Issues management is therefore preventative. One
31 example issues management consultant Simon Bryceson uses to illustrate an issues
32 management approach concerns Unilever, which through its subsidiary companies such
33 as Birds Eye Walls, Gorton’s and Findus is the largest buyer of fish in the world. In
34 early 1996, Unilever was warned of a proposed campaign by Greenpeace which would
35 highlight decreasing global fish stocks. Greenpeace was planning to target the company
36 and criticise its fish buying practices, which Greenpeace felt were contributing to the
37 problem. In order to avert this attack, Unilever established a partnership with the World
38
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1 Phase 1 Phase 2 Phase 3 Phase 4
2 Establishment Erosion
3 Emergence Dissemination
4
5 The issue spreads into is well known, its relevance
6 is other areas, becomes declines
7 generated, generalised,
8
9 Figure 8.1 The issues life cycle
10
11 Reproduced with permission from Femers, Klewes and Lintemeier (2000)
12
13 Wide Fund for Nature, the largest environmental campaigning group in the UK. The
14 two organisations formed the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) to determine the
15 sustainability of every fishery in the world and issue certification of those that were
16 judged to meet strict criteria. Unilever then committed itself from the year 2000 onwards
11117 to source all its fish from MSC certificated fisheries only. Instead of a negative attack,
18 the strategy resulted in a headline in The Financial Times, ‘Unilever in fight to save
19 global fisheries’. By taking the initiative, the company became associated with the solu-
20 tion rather than the problem, building its authority on global fisheries policy as well as
21 protecting its brand and future business (see <www.bryceson.com>).
22
23 Femers, Klewes and Lintemeier (2000) suggest a structure for the life cycle of issues
24 (see Figure 8.1). In the emergence phase, the issue is generated and defined, crystallis-
25 ing into ‘a specific interpretation of social reality’. This version of events is then picked
26 up by credible individuals or groups in the dissemination phase. Specialist media may
27 play an important role in this process, finding the issue and publishing reports, which
28 spreads it into a wider arena. The example quoted by Femers et al. is that of a problem
29 with the Intel Pentium chip, which was picked up in a chatroom by a journalist. The
30 problem with the chip eventually cost Intel several million dollars. In the third, estab-
31 lishment, phase, popular media deal with the issue and it becomes known to a large part
32 of society. Finally, public interest declines and the issue drops off the media agenda.
33 Erosion may also be caused by legislation which addresses the issue.
34
35 The rise of pressure groups
36
37 Throughout the liberal democratic world there has been a decline in confidence in
38 the power of the nation state to regulate multinational corporations. Accompanying
39 this has been a substantial rise in support for pressure groups that target those multi-
40 national corporations in order to highlight their polices on . . . a range of quasi-
41 ethical issues.
42
43 (Chris Rose, Campaign Director, Greenpeace
44 UK speech, December 1995)
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Public affairs and issues management 95

1111 The rise of pressure groups is a result of disaffection with mainstream politics and this
2 has changed the nature of participation in the political process. Some groups are now
3 no longer content to vote every five years and the growth of the road protest and animal
4 rights movements has shown that diverse groups can come together for a common
5 cause, sometimes adopting semi-terrorist tactics to gain their objectives. Simon Bryceson
6 questions whether ‘the culture of some environmental organisations has mutated into
7 one that is incapable of hearing constructive criticism’. He also warns against the rise
8 of anti-scientism. ‘Emotion has a place in public policy debate but if it becomes a
9 substitute for rational consideration, we are in very deep trouble indeed.’ He concludes,
10 ‘The end does not justify the means, even where the end is the saving of the world!’
11 <www.bryceson.com>.
12
13 A recent development has been the targeting of individual shareholders. John Vidal
14 (2000) reported that shareholders in Huntingdon Life Sciences, which tests on animals
15 for the pharmaceutical industry and has been the focus of much pressure group activity,
16 had been sent a letter by the British Union for the Abolition of Vivisection Reform
Group (AVRG) that warned them to sell their shares or face having their homes pick-
11117 eted. One individual who refused had been the victim of a peaceful demonstration
18 outside his house. Companies are having to become more aware not only of their own
19 policies, but of those of other companies that they may invest in.
20
21 ‘Modern day pressure groups have become a major political force in their own right’,
22 says Peter Hamilton, Managing Director of The Communication Group (TCG).
23 Surveying more than 250 of the largest companies in Europe, TCG found that busi-
24 nesses were fearful of the power of pressure groups but complacent about how to handle
25 them. Groups frequently outflanked businesses, and used global communications much
26 more widely and swiftly than most companies. They also fired up public opinion, and
27 influenced legislation, being seen as generally more effective at PR. Few companies
28 had corporate strategies in place to deal with the problem, and tended to rely on media
29 publicity to get their message across rather than taking a strategic approach to the issues
30 raised by pressure groups (Hamilton 1997).
31
32 Shifts in the global situation
33
34 As companies expand onto the global scene, issues have to be tackled with increased
35 lateral vision. Michael Murphy (1999) notes the importance of cultural identity. Whilst
36 huge trading blocs such as the European Union have been established, and trends towards
37 deregulation in the marketplace are apparent, there has also been a growth in national-
38 ism. This has manifested itself in the UK in devolution to the national assemblies in
39 Wales and Scotland. ‘In Asia, the cultural patchwork is still more intricate . . . despite
40 nearly half a century of autocratic centralised rule, China is still a complex nation of
41 many different cultures and dialects.’ Murphy feels that it is imperative that companies
42 be sensitive to local market conditions: ‘Any major issue . . . is likely to have interna-
43 tional ramifications.’
44
45 This issue is further complicated by the increased speed of information flows due to
46 new technology (see Chapter 18). Greater access to information allows people to make
47 more informed choices. According to Murphy, ‘80 per cent of US journalists now go
48 to the web as their first source of information.’ With an information-rich society, espe-
49 cially in the developed capitalist countries, actions in one part of the globe can impact
on a company elsewhere.
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96 The Public Relations Handbook

1 Defining lobbying
2
3 One of the techniques used most commonly in carrying out issues management
4 campaigns is lobbying. Lobbying involves ‘direct attempts to influence legislative and
5 regulatory decisions in government’ and public affairs is the ‘specialised public rela-
6 tions effort designed to build and maintain community and governmental relations’
7 (Cutlip et al. 1985: 14). Not surprisingly, because they have overlapping definitions,
8 the two terms are often used interchangeably, although it can be argued that public
9 affairs has a wider remit. Charles Miller at Citigate Public Affairs feels that there is
10 difficulty in defining both public affairs and lobbying, and feels that the latter is ‘any
11 attempt to influence the decisions of the institutions of government’.1
12
13 Organisations have increasingly used lobbying techniques to present their case to
14 government and groups of stakeholders. Lobbying can be either defensive, designed
15 to abolish or amend an existing law, or offensive, aimed at pushing the authorities to
16 create a law. An example of offensive lobbying was the successful Snowdrop Campaign
11117 by parents of children killed at Dunblane, which quickly forced a change in the
18 regulations on private hand guns. The key to lobbying is to understand the legisla-
19 tive process, and how that of the UK and the different national assemblies operate
20 within the European Community. Increasingly, competition on an international scale
21 means that it is necessary to take wide-ranging cultural and legislative practices into
22 account. For example, Shell found that its decision to dispose of Brent Spar in the
23 North Sea provoked a reaction from pressure groups across Europe. In the end, despite
24 the rationality of its argument, a well-orchestrated campaign caused the company to
25 change its policy.
26
27 Moloney (1997) comments on those who have put forward the case that lobbying is
28 a guarantor of pluralism. He points out that not all groups in a liberal market are equal
29 in power, influence and therefore access. He also noted that groups are not equal in
30 wealth and while some can hire public relations consultants, others cannot.
31
32 Common lobbying mistakes
33
34 In order to be successful, the lobbyist needs to be aware of issues in advance. According
35 to the lobbyist Charles Miller, ‘Every hour spent on research and monitoring is worth
36 ten on lobbying’ (cited in Roche 1998: 22). The later a campaign begins, the fewer
37 choices are open. Miller (Roche 1998: 23) names four common lobbying mistakes:
38
39 1 Contacts are no use unless you have a sound case.
40
41 2 No amount of entertaining can substitute for a well-researched case.
42
43 3 Think Government, not Parliament. It is also important to talk to MPs’ advisors.
44 Think system, and take account of the network of institutions.
45
46 4 Do not act unless you know how Government will react to your case.
47
48 Organisations who want to undertake lobbying have a choice of methods. They may
49 take on an in-house specialist, as is most likely in large organisations that need to
1150 be constantly aware of issues and legislation. A specialist consultancy firm may be
5111 employed on a project basis, where help is needed on specific or ad hoc projects.
Consultants may be used to supplement the knowledge and expertise of an in-house
department. Miller feels that the bulk of professional lobbyists do the majority of their

Public affairs and issues management 97

1111 work on the political side, but that issues may not have much to do with parliamen-
2 tary decisions.
3
4 Organisations used to retain MPs or peers to provide them with advice and infor-
5 mation, or to open doors and act as spokespeople. However, there have been calls for
6 regulation of this process (see Chapter 5). The Neill Commission in 1999 recommended
7 that independent lobbyists should be more regulated, although it did not go as far as
8 the professional bodies, the IPR, the PRCA and the Association of Party Political
9 Consultants (APPC), advocated. MPs and peers have to register their interests, so it
10 can be seen whether their stance on particular legislation might have been influenced
11 by lobbyists or organisations. The IPR and the PRCA have introduced supplements to
12 their Codes of Practice relating to members who are lobbyists, largely reiterating the
13 Code of the APPC. The problem remains that many lobbyists are not members of any
14 of these professional associations and so cannot be governed by any of their rules.
15
16 There is also the question of what constitutes lobbying. Bryceson still carries out
lobbying work on a pro bono basis for certain special interest groups he supports. Where
11117 does lobbying start – is it only when someone is paid to do it that regulation comes
18 into play?
19
20 Lobbying since 1997
21
22 The general election in May 1997 brought a Labour government into power with a
23 huge majority. This changed the way that lobbyists worked and shifted emphasis onto
24 government advisors. Parliament was also noticeably younger and contained more
25 women and ethnic MPs. Relationships had to be formed between lobbyists and these
26 new MPs.
27
28 Research carried out amongst MPs in 1998 found that the following factors were felt
29 to be important for successful lobbying (Roche 1998: 44):
30
31 1 Access to decision makers
32
33 2 Background research
34
35 3 Good timing
36
37 4 Communication skills
38
39 5 Knowledge of government procedure
40
41 6 Public interest
42
43 7 Support of opinion leaders
44
45 8 Effective targeting
46
47 9 Favourable media coverage
48
49 10 Knowledge of government structure.

11150 Although favourable media coverage appears only ninth in this list, much of the lobby-
5111 ist’s effort is directed to making sure that their case is covered in the media appro-
priate to the MPs and civil servants who they want to influence.

Public perception of an issue will increase proportionately to the amount of atten-
tion given to that issue by the media. By simply paying attention to an issue and
neglecting others, the media will affect public opinion. The public agenda then influ-
ences the political agenda, as politicians seek to respond to what voters want to ensure
their own re-election. As politicians are elected by constituencies, often the local and

98 The Public Relations Handbook

1 regional media are more important for individual MPs than the national media and
2 skilful lobbyists will seek to relate their causes to the particular local concerns of the
3 politicians they wish to influence.
4
5 There are several methods which lobbyists may seek to persuade an MP to use in
6 favour of their cause. MPs ask over 50,000 Parliamentary Questions (PQs) each year.
7 Questions are printed on the order paper on the day after they are tabled at the table
8 office and again on the day they are to be answered. Over 90 per cent of answers are
9 written, and are a good way to bring a matter to the attention of Ministers and other
10 MPs. Lobbyists may seek to persuade an MP to ask a question on behalf of a particu-
11 lar organisation or to support a particular cause. All questions and answers appear in
12 Hansard.
13
14 MPs can also put down an Early Day Motion (EDM) on the order paper to call the
15 House, government or individual MP to take action. Six sponsoring MPs are needed
16 to start an EDM, and each time another name is added to the list the EDM is reprinted.
11117
18 MPs also have the chance to affect policy by working in party committees or depart-
19 mental groups.
20
21 The system
22
23 The experienced lobbyist Charles Miller has offered Figure 8.2 as an illustration of the
24 political system. Whitehall departments and the European Commission draft policy and
25 implement decisions formally made by Ministers and Commissioners. The latter are
26 influenced by officials who control the flow of information and access to the politi-
27 cians. Special Advisers have a significant role in the decision-making process in some
28 departments, and there are cabinets who act as advisers to Commissioners. Advisory
29 committees and task forces in the UK and Committees of Experts in the EC, made up
30 of outside specialists, may also act as consultation bodies.
31
32 Quangos are public bodies that are not part of government departments but which
33 administer policy and may distribute money, for example the Arts Council.
34
35 Local government contributes to planning and policy, and may distribute money for
36 economic development locally. The work is mainly done by officers who service
37 committees of elected members. Regulators such as OFTEL and the Health & Safety
38 Executive administer statutory controls.
39
40 The parliaments may formally adopt decisions, but as can be seen, there are many
41 different influences before a subject is debated in parliament.
42
43 European political institutions
44
45 The main institutions of the European Community are the European Council, the Council
46 of Ministers, the European Commission and the European Parliament. The European
47 Council consists of all heads of state and meets twice a year. The Council of Ministers
48 includes ministerial representatives of the member states, in proportion to their popu-
49 lations. The Presidency is held by member states in turn. The European Commission
1150 consists of 20 Commissioners, appointed for a five-year term by the member states’
5111 governments. The European Parliament is made up of 626 European MPs who sit in
political groups and are elected every five years. These institutions are supported by
civil servants and other advisers. The legislative process is mainly governed by the
Council, the Commission (which has the right to initiate proposals) and the Parliament.

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Select Cabinet Ministers Special
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Backbench/All Advisory
Party Committees

Committee

Scottish/Welsh
N Ireland

parliaments

Local
government

Regulators European
Commission
Quangos
European
English RDAs Parliament Council of
Ministers

Figure 8.2 The political system

Source: Miller 1998

100 The Public Relations Handbook

1 Knowing where and when to enter this process, and who to approach, is key to achieving
2 a successful outcome for a lobbying campaign.
3
4 Key factors
5
6 Charles Miller (1998) suggests the following key factors that influence campaigns:
7
8 Merit of case 70%
9 Constituency concerns 15%
10 Big battalions (organisations, interests) 15%
11 Media 10%
12 Pressure groups 5%
13 Courts 1%
14
15 The merit of the case is the most influential factor. The case needs to put forward work-
16 able policies, supported by accurate facts and figures researched from credible sources.
11117 If governments have committed themselves to take action, a good lobbyist will take
18 account of this and suggest constructive alternatives. Professional lobbyists would be
19 expected to know which element of the system to approach and how that element would
20 wish to be treated. By treating receivers of information as stakeholder publics, lobby-
21 ists can increase the likely success of their case. Due thought needs to be given to how
22 the system would receive the information and respond to it. Miller also suggests that
23 the bulk of issues are settled by negotiation, rather than by a simple lobbying process.
24
25 Other lobbying arenas
26
27 Simon Bryceson believes that lobbying is now taking place outside the parliamentary
28 arena. The World Trade Organization (WTO) has the power to set trading legislative
29 standards. Catalytic converters now have to be fitted as standard in new motor cars,
30 and obviously this measure has benefited the manufacturers. Some of the global organ-
31 isations have competing priorities. The World Bank places an emphasis on cash crops
32 like tobacco over subsistence farming, yet the World Health Organization discourages
33 tobacco use. The perceived ability of these organisations to affect everyone’s lives can
34 be seen in the rise of pressure group activity directed against them, as evidenced by
35 the demonstrations during the WTO talks in Seattle in 2000.
36
37 In the UK the 1998 Competition Act replaced the Monopolies and Mergers
38 Commission with the Competition Commission. The remit of the new body was still
39 to investigate and report on proposed mergers, but the emphasis shifted towards consid-
40 ering whether decisions would mean better services for consumers. The chair of the
41 Commission Dr Derek Morris stated that the Commission would prioritise consumer
42 interest over all others, and that its proceedings would be more transparent. Chris
43 Savage, director of competition and regulation at Shandwick Public Affairs, felt that
44 new skills would be needed to ‘build coalitions and mobilise support’. Rod Cartwright,
45 head of GCI Political Counsel, did not see a need for new skills: ‘Our role has always
46 been to help clients build a groundswell of support for an issue . . . But the importance
47 of support from third parties has grown.’ As the number of audiences has widened,
48 Cartwright felt that ‘Strategic message delivery needs more work than before’ (quoted
49 in Freeman 2000).
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1111 The Competition Commission held public hearings of the debate on price-fixing in
2 the motor industry in July 1999. Whilst members of the public were not able to make
3 submissions, they were able to attend hearings which previously would have been held
4 in private (Freeman 2000).
5
6 In the remainder of this chapter, two contrasting case studies will be presented. The
7 first is from Railtrack, and examines the activities of a well-resourced in-house public
8 affairs department. Railtrack has a long-term national agenda. The second case study
9 looks at the Voice of the Listener and Viewer (VLV), a small pressure group depen-
10 dent on member subscriptions for its income. Despite this, VLV has held several confer-
11 ences with well-respected speakers and has been invited to submit responses to
12 government bodies.
13
14 Case study 1: Railtrack
15
16 Railtrack is part of the now privatised rail network in the UK and was created by the
1993 Railways Act. The company owns the rail infrastructure, including track, signals,
11117 bridges and all 2,500 stations. Whilst privatisation freed Railtrack from the necessity
18 of approaching the Treasury each year to gain funds to keep the trains running for the
19 next twelve months, the rail industry receives a substantial although decreasing level
20 of public subsidy and is therefore accountable to the government. Privatisation has also
21 increased expectations of the industry, not only from politicians but also from the general
22 public. Whilst Railtrack does not run trains, and its customers are the train operating
23 companies rather than passengers, the infrastructure obviously substantially affects the
24 travelling experience.
25
26 Railtrack is affected by the decisions of the Rail Regulator, who reviews access
27 charges. The first review is underway for implementation in 2001, and any changes in
28 charges would seriously affect Railtrack’s business.
29
30 The geographical spread of the rail network means that all but a few parliamentary
31 constituencies contain a railway line, station or both. Therefore MPs are interested in
32 how Railtrack’s actions will affect life for their constituents. The Labour government
33 is also pro-public transport and wishes to operate in partnership with business. With
34 the Strategic Rail Authority emerging under the responsibility of the Department of
35 Transport, Environment and the Regions, Railtrack needs to have a coherent and consis-
36 tent public affairs policy.
37
38 Simon Miller, Head of Public Affairs for Railtrack, stated in an interview with the
39 author:
40
41 Decision makers want to deal directly with companies rather than consultants. Whilst
42 the latter have an important role to play in helping you shape strategy and key
43 messages, it is important that the company is seen to lead in contacting politicians
44 and civil servants. We are moving to a situation where we are retaining an agency
45 on an ad hoc, project basis rather than on a retainer, but we are predominately doing
46 the work ourselves, in-house. Whilst the team has increased in strength and moved
47 from being a mere packhorse to being involved in strategic thinking, there are still
48 only four people in my team.
49
The days of wining and dining to crack an issue, or of the company chairman
11150 being able to pick up the phone to a politician because he knew him at Oxford are
5111 largely behind us. We have to be more cerebral than that. No lobbying is better than
bad lobbying. If you mess it up, it can have a negative effect so that it is harder to
make an approach the next time.

102 The Public Relations Handbook

1 As well as having to prepare for and put our case to the regulatory review, and
2 be aware of the implications of the emerging Strategic Rail Authority, we have two
3 major construction projects underway at the moment. One is the Channel Tunnel
4 rail link, which is the first overland railway to be built in Britain this century.
5 This country has an appalling record of getting such projects built on time and to
6 budget. It is taking place in a very overcrowded part of the country, and we have
7 to handle our dealings with the new line’s neighbours, local media and councillors,
8 very professionally.
9
10 The other project is the upgrading of the west coast mainline. It’s the most well
11 used piece of track in Europe with over 1,000 trains per day, but it’s been starved
12 of resources for decades and the infrastructure and the rolling stock are clapped out.
13 We are trying to do something about it, whilst keeping the neighbours happy and
14 keeping the trains running at the same time.
15
16 There is a place for big numbers, like the fact that Railtrack is spending over £17
11117 billion on the infrastructure over the next ten years, over £4 million every day. But
18 the surest way to the hearts and minds of MPs is to break it down to constituency
19 sized chunks. Also, if you speak to most rail users they won’t say that it feels like
20 they are travelling around on a network where investment is at record levels. One
21 reason is that we haven’t been very good at communicating what we are doing, and
22 the other is that, like the water industry, you can’t actually see our investment. If you
23 don’t repair a tunnel, or the track or the signalling system, it may affect the running
24 of the trains if you don’t do it, but it is hard to make a high visibility impact.
25
26 One area where we can make a visible difference is in the area of station improve-
27 ments. We are doing up all 2,500 stations over five years. I can then make an indi-
28 vidually targeted package of information for each MP which will contain details of
29 what we are doing in their patch. On average, we have at least one MP visit to a
30 station site each week, where they can don a hard hat, see what work we are doing
31 and get local coverage in the media. Improvements to station surfaces, better disabled
32 access, more bike racks, repairing the clock tower, they can see what they are getting
33 for the money.
34
35 I am also responsible for a team of six people at Waterloo who deal with customer
36 complaints and manage a complaints helpline. We can analyse where complaints are
37 coming from and what those complaints are, whether it is vibration from trains,
38 noise or vandalism, and match our activities to their agenda. If they get dissatisfied
39 that’s when they write to their MP, and an MP’s view of the world is shaped by
40 their postbag. We want to stop the 25,000 people who write to us complaining from
41 writing to their MP. Whilst 25,000 might seem a lot, eight billion passenger kilo-
42 metres are travelled each year, and half a million people live within 50 yards of a
43 railway line, so it’s all comparative.
44
45 There is an emerging understanding of who is responsible for what but I think it
46 is still incomplete. Now, there are 35 train operating companies, three rolling stock
47 companies, Railtrack, plus freight companies and maintenance contractors, so there
48 are 60 companies operating in a field where there used to be only one. Reputations
49 level down, not up, and it is difficult to be regarded as better than the worst performer.
1150 There has been some friction between Railtrack and the operators where we didn’t
5111 agree on where the balance of responsibility lay, but we do work together with the
Association of Train Operating Companies and with PR peers from those companies.
We have organised seminars to talk through issues facing the rail industry and how
we might deal with them, sharing best practice in the industry. We are all in it
together and we can’t afford not to work together.

Public affairs and issues management 103

1111 Whilst it is important to work directly with those who make decisions, the media
2 still has an important part to play. You have to be careful not to negotiate through
3 the media, with government ministers feeling like they have been ambushed by
4 reading something in the media which they should have heard directly from you.
5 This can put them in an embarrassing position. The media is important as an influ-
6 encer, particularly local media.
7
8 It’s important to network within the company to draw out the raw information
9 needed for political communications. A close relationship with the Chief Executive
10 and senior directors is essential so that public affairs does not become marginalised.
11 It’s also important to make contacts lower down the company with middle and lower
12 managers who will know the issues in detail.
13
14 Simon Miller operates within a major corporate environment. This is in contrast with
15 VLV, described below.
16
Case study 2: Voice of the Listener and
11117 Viewer (VLV)
18
19 VLV came into being at the end of 1983 in response to a proposal by Richard Francis,
20 Managing Director of BBC Radio, to turn Radio 4 into an all-news current affairs
21 channel. Around 200 people wrote in support of a piece in The Sunday Times calling
22 for an association of listeners, and a public meeting was organised in November 1983.
23 Even though the Radio 4 plan had been abandoned, it was still felt that there was a
24 need for an independent consumer body for broadcasting. With a small start-up grant
25 from the Rowntree Foundation, Voice of the Listener (VoL) held its first conference
26 in May 1984. It also made its first submission to the government enquiry on value for
27 money given by the BBC World Service. By 1985, in its submission to the Peacock
28 Committee on the financing of the BBC, VoL was speaking for viewers as well, and
29 so changed its name to VLV in 1991.
30
31 ‘There was nowhere in the system for listeners and viewers to make a positive input’,
32 says General Secretary Jocelyn Hay. ‘Individuals can complain to any number of insti-
33 tutions, but there was no way of making a collective representation.’ She discovered
34 this when the Independent Society of Business Advertisers (ISBA) was lobbying in
35 favour of advertising on the BBC, with a direct channel through the Department of
36 Trade and Industry (DTI).
37
38 There was also no formal requirement for the Broadcasting Standards Commission
39 to take account of listeners and viewers, but we have forced them to consult us and
40 other organisations. However, the Consumers Association only deals with the quality
41 of what you buy, like television sets, but it doesn’t stretch to encompass citizenship
42 issues. We cover both.
43
44 VLV is still the only organisation in the UK speaking for listeners and viewers on a
45 range of broadcasting issues. It aims to safeguard quality and editorial integrity of broad-
46 cast programmes, and promote wider choice. Undue influence by advertisers, politi-
47 cians and commercial interests over broadcasting is resisted, and the association also
48 seeks to raise awareness of the importance of broadcasting in national culture.
49
Major submissions and responses to government have followed, as well as a series
11150 of lectures and a quarterly newsletter (Figure 8.3). In 1992, VLV produced a programme
5111

104 The Public Relations Handbook

1 Figure 8.3 VLV Bulletin
2
3 Used with permission
4
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11117
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Public affairs and issues management 105

1111 in the BBC2 Open Space series. In 1993, at its first conference, the president of the
2 European Broadcasting Union spoke to a non-industry body for the first time. After his
3 appearance, VLV was invited to submit a response to a consultation on audio-visual
4 material conducted by the European Commission. ‘We are dealing with five or six
5 different directorates in Europe’, says Jocelyn Hay.
6
7 They include telecommunications in DG13, the internal market in DG15, interna-
8 tional relations is dealt with by DG1 and DG24 is consumer affairs. There is an
9 incredible complexity of issues that we are dealing with. As well as MPs and civil
10 servants in Whitehall, we deal with the Home Office on data protection and changes
11 to the Representation of the People Act, the DTI on the convergence of television
12 and telecommunications, although our main channel is through the Department of
13 Media, Culture and Sport.
14
15 Her latest concern was to safeguard the interests of individuals in the proposed new
16 European Bill on Copyright, which aimed to prevent viewers recording digital audio
material from television for their own use. She was concerned that the legislation could
11117 lead to the prevention of video recording of programmes. ‘Somebody has to get in at
18 the beginning, when the legislation is being set up, or it will be too late.’
19
20 Membership of VLV now numbers around 2,500, including overseas and corporate
21 members. Current objectives include safeguarding Channel 4 as a public corporation.
22 Performance of radio and television stations, including cable and satellite, is monitored.
23 ‘We are concerned about the future of parliamentary broadcasting too’, says Jocelyn
24 Hay.
25
26 There is commercial pressure for ratings, and people turn off during parliamentary
27 broadcasts, but they are an important part of the democratic process. The BBC
28 wanted to move parliamentary broadcasts on to long wave (LW) radio only, which
29 is much harder to find and involves retuning if you are listening in FM. The origin-
30 al draft of the renewal of the BBC’s Charter in 1996 left out the requirement for
31 daily reports on proceedings, which we fought to have reinstated.
32
33 The society is run by Jocelyn Hay and five part-time administrators, calling on twelve
34 volunteer committee members on an ad hoc basis to spread the load. With this small
35 workforce, VLV runs between seven and ten conferences each year, produces a
36 newsletter and various publications, responds to consultations by national and European
37 bodies, and has given evidence to three Select Committees. The association submitted
38 a response to the panel reviewing the future of BBC funding, recommending the raising
39 of the licence fee.
40
41 The VLV conference in Cambridge in April 1999 on the future of broadcasting
42 attracted a high calibre of speakers, including Patricia Hodgson, Director of Policy and
43 Planning for the BBC, and Paul Smee of the ITC. Despite this, prices for attendance
44 are kept to a minimum to ensure accessibility for all. Funding comes mainly from
45 subscriptions and donations.
46
47 One of the successes of which Jocelyn Hay is most proud is the prevention of money
48 from the privatisation of the BBC transmitter network disappearing from BBC coffers.
49
We challenged the government that as the transmitters had been bought with
11150 taxpayers’ money, the Treasury could not keep the proceeds of the sale. We threat-
5111 ened a judicial review and they backed off. We had a lot of help from Ray Snoddy

106 The Public Relations Handbook

1 at The Financial Times, who gave us some good media coverage. In the end the
2 BBC got to keep 80 per cent of the money, which they used to fund development
3 of their digital channels.
4
5 Note
6
7 1 Interview with the author.
8
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11117
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1111 9 Business ethics, public
2 relations and corporate
3 social responsibility
4
5 Ian Somerville
6
7 P ublic relations discourse in relation to corporate social responsibility tends to
8 utilise language and concepts derived from ethical doctrines such as utilitarian-
9 ism, Kantianism and ‘rights’ theories. This leads to significant claims for corpor-
10 ate social responsibility programmes. For example, businesses maintain that such activity
11 is a recognition of the duties and responsibilities that companies have to the wider
12 community, or that they contribute to the common good by benefiting both the company
13 and society. This chapter will explore the nature of the ethical doctrines which busi-
14 ness appeals to, the debate concerning corporate social responsibility in particular, and
15 how corporate social responsibility is justified in practice.
16
Business is a social phenomenon. Societies have developed various kinds of social
11117 rules, such as legal rules, or even the rules of etiquette, which act as a framework or
18 guide to behaviour. Moral rules are sometimes regarded as just another set of social
19 rules, but societies are structured around moral rules in a peculiarly fundamental way.
20 In fact moral precepts are frequently used to criticise the other kinds of social rules
21 which guide human conduct. Most notably there can be clashes between moral rules
22 and legal rules. The ‘race laws’ in the USA, for example, or the ‘apartheid laws’ in
23 South Africa, were eventually perceived to be so immoral that the only moral course
24 was to disobey them. Clearly one may disagree with particular moral rules or question
25 the possibility that ‘definitive’ answers to ethical problems are possible. Nevertheless
26 it is the case that, in all societies, a great majority of people accept that they should
27 adhere to certain fundamental moral rules. Breaking these rules will meet with sanc-
28 tions of various kinds, from disapproval and ostracism to, in certain cases, legal penal-
29 ties. Moral rules help to structure social relations, and many of the decisions that
30 individuals and businesses make must take account of them.
31
32 However, behaving ethically in this basic, passive sense is not normally what is
33 meant by corporate social responsibility. Corporate social responsibility involves the
34 idea of business being proactive in its relationship with a range of social actors and
35 doing more than just trying to avoid breaking moral rules. A key example of corpor-
36 ate social responsibility in practice is corporate community involvement (see Chapter
37 12). The term ‘social responsibility’ implies that business is motivated by more than
38 just self-interest and is, in fact, attempting to promote the collective self-interest of
39 society at large. This can be differentiated from, for example, corporate sponsorship
40 where ‘the company’s managers will expect a tangible return for their money’ (Varey
41 1997: 118).
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49

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1 Up until this point we have been using the term ‘ethical’ or ‘moral’ as if it were an
2 unproblematic concept about which there is widespread agreement. This is certainly not
3 the case. It is important to clarify some of the language and concepts vis-à-vis ethical
4 debate because, as we will see, public relations specialists tend to discuss corporate
5 social responsibility using language taken directly from ethical theories. The first section
6 in this chapter will discuss several key ethical doctrines which have emerged histor-
7 ically. The next section will relate these ethical theories to debates surrounding whether
8 or not social responsibility is desirable at all. The final section will discuss how ethical
9 theories inform the language of public relations and impact upon the practice of corpor-
10 ate social responsibility.
11
12 Ethical theories
13
14 In ethical theory the first and most profound division is between the assumption that
15 it is possible to know moral right from wrong and the denial of that assumption.
16 Cognitivism1 is the term used by philosophers to describe the belief that there are objec-
11117 tive moral truths which can be known and consequently that a statement of moral belief
18 can be true or false. Non-cognitivism is the term used to describe the belief that morality
19 is subjective or culturally relative, that is, in regard to moral right and wrong there are
20 only beliefs, attitudes and opinions. Cognitivist perspectives such as utilitarianism,
21 Kantianism, and ‘rights’ theories have had a significant impact on business ethics and
22 the concept of corporate social responsibility in particular, but there have also been
23 attempts to argue that business ethics is best seen from a cultural relativist standpoint.2
24
25 Ethical theories, which argue that it is possible to know right from wrong, can be
26 divided into two groups. There are those, like utilitarianism, which assess moral right
27 and wrong in terms of the consequences of actions – the consequentionalist perspec-
28 tive – and those, like Kantianism and ‘rights’ theories, which do not – the non-conse-
29 quentionalist perspective. From the consequentionalist perspective we look at the results
30 of actions in order to make a moral judgement about those actions. From the non-
31 consequentialist perspective there is no immediate appeal to beneficial or harmful conse-
32 quences to determine whether actions were morally right or wrong.
33
34 Utilitarianism
35
36 The classic consequentionalist theory is utilitarianism, which states that actions are not
37 good or bad in themselves, but only in so far as what they are good or bad for.
38 Utilitarianism is the notion that an action is right only to the extent that it causes more
39 good than ill to be produced. The classic formulation of this position is that of the
40 English philosopher Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832). Bentham identified utility with
41 happiness. Happiness is the only thing desirable as an end in itself and all other things
42 are only desirable as a means to the end of happiness. For Bentham, therefore, actions
43 are right to the extent that they maximise happiness or, at least, minimise unhappiness.3
44 Bentham was not particularly concerned with the happiness or unhappiness of individ-
45 uals. For him it is the ‘common good’ that is the arbiter of right and wrong. This is
46 Bentham’s greatest happiness principle which suggests that an action or process can be
47 classified as good when it provides ‘the greatest happiness for the greatest possible
48 number’.
49
1150 The standard objection to utilitarianism is that it requires the promotion or maxi-
5111 mization of ‘goods’, such as economic growth, in order to achieve utility and permits

Business ethics and corporate responsibility 109

1111 the sacrificing of individuals and minorities ‘for the greater good’. Donaldson (1992:
2 129) notes that:
3
4 [Utilitarianism] begins with the impeccable principle of ‘beneficence’, and ends
5 with the malevolence of the Victorian workhouse and the inability to prevent punish-
6 ment of the innocent, or discriminatory application of the law, so that favoured
7 groups are virtually immune, while disfavoured groups pay the price, as tends to
8 happen in income policies, and sometimes, in the control of ethnic groups in the
9 labour market.
10
11 This ethic of welfare would also allow the telling of lies to protect the reputation of
12 the corporation. So, for example, if a company was saved from bankruptcy because its
13 image and reputation were enhanced by lies told by company representatives to jour-
14 nalists, this may well be seen as a permissible act. From a utilitarian point of view the
15 welfare of those human beings whose jobs had been saved is weighed against the
16 breaking of trust with other human beings.

11117 An ethic of duty
18
19 Utilitarianism can be contrasted with the non-consequentionalist ethical position which
20 argues that it is motivation rather than consequences which is the determining factor
21 in deciding whether actions are ethical or not. This perspective is generally referred to
22 as deontological, from the Greek word for duty (deon), and is a doctrine that is primarily
23 associated with the German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804). Kant argues that
24 ethics is grounded in notions of duty and it follows from this that some actions are
25 morally obligatory regardless of their consequences. According to Kant, an act is carried
26 out from a sense of duty when it is performed in accordance with what he calls the
27 ‘categorical imperative’. Kant defines the categorical imperative in two separate but
28 mutually supportive formulations.
29
30 I ought never to act except in such a way that I can also will [desire] that my
31 maxim should become a universal law. . . . Act in such a way that you always treat
32 humanity . . . never simply as a means but always at the same time as an end.
33
34 (Kant 1964: 70–96)
35
36 For Kant ‘universalising’ a maxim basically involves ensuring that the principle upon
37 which we act should be one which we can recommend everyone else to act upon. The
38 second formulation centres ethics on the relationship between human beings. In the
39 case of lying to protect the reputation of the company in order to secure jobs, Kant
40 would suggest that you shouldn’t be prepared to act in this way unless you are willing
41 to let everyone tell lies. Telling lies in order to make someone carry out your will also
42 transgresses Kant’s categorical imperative by treating another human being as merely
43 a means to getting what you want.
44
45 The chief problem with the deontological doctrine is demonstrated where there is a
46 clash of categorical imperatives. One has a duty never to lie but what if by lying
47 one is fulfilling one’s duty to prevent the murder of another human being? Kant
48 actually insisted that if a murderer were to ask you the whereabouts of their intended
49 victim you had a duty to tell them and not break the precept regarding lying. Therefore
even when it negatively affects the welfare of other human beings one must fulfil
11150 one’s duty.
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1 An ethic of rights
2
3 Kant’s deontological doctrine is closely connected with theories which proclaim that
4 there are ‘rights’ to which every human being is entitled. In both positions there is a
5 status common to all human beings which affords them protection from abuse by others.
6 To infringe a person’s human rights is to fail to treat him or her as an end in them-
7 selves. Like Kant’s position, this viewpoint is broadly non-consequentialist and rejects
8 utilitarianism. According to these theories we cannot sacrifice individuals and minor-
9 ities to the common good when to do so would be to abuse their human rights.
10
11 Rights theories were developed during the political turmoil of the seventeenth and
12 eighteenth centuries by radical thinkers who sought to change traditional hierarchical
13 social structures which tended to be held together by notions of allegiance to an
14 unelected sovereign. The foundational assumption of ‘rights’ theories is that over and
15 above mere human law there is an objective moral order, the ‘natural law’, which sets
16 limits to the power of rulers. In requiring justice of governments, the natural law
11117 conferred rights on the governed. The generally agreed list was life, liberty and, some-
18 times, property. These were proclaimed as ‘natural rights’ bestowed on people by the
19 natural law. They were rights which governments could neither grant nor take away,
20 people possessed them by virtue of being human. Governments could rule but they
21 were bound ‘contractually’ to honour these basic rights.
22
23 In the writings of the English philosopher John Locke (1632–1704) the ‘contract’
24 became ‘social’. That is, it was no longer deemed to be a contract between govern-
25 ments and people, but rather between the people themselves to set up and empower a
26 government. This is an immensely influential concept and has tended to be enshrined
27 in various ‘declarations’, from the American Declaration of Independence to Article 1
28 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which states: ‘All human beings are born
29 free and equal in dignity and rights.’
30
31 Theories that claim that there are inalienable human rights suffer from a similar
32 problem to the theory that human beings have duties and responsibilities which they
33 must not disregard under any circumstances. What happens when two different ‘rights’
34 clash? In the case of lying to protect the reputation of the company and therefore
35 jobs, how does one weigh the ‘right’ to work against the ‘right’ of people to be told
36 the truth?
37
38 All of the classical ethical theories have inherent problems and it is fair to conclude
39 that none of them seem satisfactory unless they are qualified. As Chryssides and Kaler
40 (1993: 103) note:
41
42 So the aim of serving the common good has to be tempered by the admission of
43 rights and responsibilities. Likewise rights and duties cannot generally be examined
44 separately and neither can they be pursued regardless of any consideration of
45 collective welfare.
46
47 Cultural relativism
48
49 Before turning our attention to the significance of these debates for corporate social
1150 responsibility it is important to note that there are accounts of business ethics which
5111 reject the idea – maintained by the classical ethical theories – that there are ‘objective’
standards of right and wrong. Pearson (1989), in embracing the concept of intersubjec-
tivism, offers an argument which places public relations at the centre of efforts to con-
struct a business ethic. For Pearson, ‘post-modern rhetorical theory offers a powerful

Business ethics and corporate responsibility 111

1111 and cogent theory with which to conceptualise public relations theory and business ethics’
2 (1989: 121). According to this view all truths, including moral truths, emerge out of a
3 process of negotiation and debate. There are no objective standards of right and wrong
4 only subjective views on what constitutes right and wrong. Moral rules are intersubjective
5 in that they are arrived at through agreement between different subjective viewpoints.
6 Pearson argues that this communication process is the key to business ethics for it is in
7 this process ‘that the moral truths shaping corporate conduct are grounded’ (p. 122).
8 According to Pearson this approach offers equity, that is, the decision as to what actions
9 are ethical emerges through the communicative interaction of all sides. This depends on
10 accepting that public relations, insofar as it plays ‘the central role in corporate commu-
11 nication’, also ‘plays the major role in managing the moral dimension of corporate
12 conduct’ (p. 111). Pearson here seems to be advocating a conception of public relations
13 practice similar to Grunig and Hunt’s (1984) two-way symmetrical model.
14
15 Whilst a theory of public relations which emphasises the centrality of dialogue seems
16 attractive it should be pointed out that there are several issues here which need to be
resolved. First, the issue of ‘power’ seems to be largely ignored. It might be possible
11117 to think of a situation where all relevant groups are represented regarding an issue but
18 it is difficult to imagine a situation where all the participants will be accorded equal
19 status. There is an additional problem in that a process of dialogue has to stop some-
20 where and a resolution to which everyone agrees might not be possible. A decision
21 might have to made which is only in the interests of the majority and it is hard to see
22 how one could prevent this from collapsing into utilitarianism, where you rely on
23 maximising happiness for the greatest possible number.
24
25 Pearson’s cultural relativism suffers from the major stumbling block that all parties
26 must agree that all actors involved in an issue are equal. Based on that foundational
27 assumption all parties can then arrive at a mutually satisfactory outcome through
28 dialogue. By insisting on this foundational assumption it seems that Pearson is actually
29 insisting on something similar to the notion that all human beings have ‘rights’ or that
30 everyone should be treated as an end, not merely as a means. However, it is clear that
31 these assumptions do not emerge out of the process of symmetrical dialogue, they are
32 a prerequisite for it. Pearson then, relies on older established ethical doctrines to guar-
33 antee his model. But what have these ethical theories to do with public relations and,
34 more specifically, what have they to do with corporate social responsibility? Even a
35 cursory glance at the literature explaining most corporate social responsibility
36 programmes reveals that the language and concepts we have just discussed, the ‘common
37 good’, ‘contractual rights’, ‘duties’ and ‘responsibilities’, are all terms which have
38 tended to be used in describing or justifying corporate social responsibility.
39
40 Should business be socially responsible?
41
42 In this section two contrasting views of corporate social responsibility will be discussed.
43 In some senses they represent the extreme poles of opinion on this issue. In practice
44 the attitude of most companies to corporate social responsibility will occupy a position
45 somewhere between the two. Ethical doctrines play a role in justifying both perspec-
46 tives. For example, Friedman, who rejects any conception of corporate social respon-
47 sibility, justifies his ‘free market approach’ from a utilitarian standpoint. On the other
48 side of the debate corporate social responsibility is viewed as a necessary and integral
49 part of the ‘stakeholder approach’, an approach which is ultimately justified from a
Kantian perspective.
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1 The social responsibility of business is to increase
2 profits
3
4 Milton Friedman, the Nobel prize-winning economist and advocate of laissez-faire capi-
5 talism, argued against the idea that business has a social responsibility. He claimed that
6 ‘there is one and only one social responsibility of business – to use its resources and
7 engage in activities designed to increase its profits’ (Friedman 1993: 254). Friedman
8 insists that it is wrong to suggest that corporations can have social responsibilities,
9 since, for him, only individuals can have responsibilities. He claims that the actual
10 responsibilities of the corporate executive should be narrowly defined. He writes:
11
12 In a free-enterprise, private-property system, a corporate executive is an employee
13 of the owners of the business. He has direct responsibility to his employers. That
14 responsibility is to conduct the business in accordance with their desires, which
15 generally will be to make as much money as possible while conforming to the basic
16 rules of the society, both those embodied in law and those embodied in ethical
11117 custom.
18
19 (Friedman 1993: 249)
20
21 By claiming that businesses have only one social responsibility, to maximise their profits,
22 Friedman is in effect saying they have no social responsibilities. He does not say that
23 moral rules have no place in relation to business practice, in fact while pursuing profits
24 business must conform to what he refers to as ‘ethical custom’. He seems to be making
25 a distinction between first and second order ethical rules, the basic moral rules of society
26 (the first order) and social responsibility precepts (an optional second order). He does
27 not elaborate on what the rules based on ethical custom are, but he does give some
28 indication as to what the second order rules might involve. He castigates businessmen
29 for ‘preaching pure and unadulterated socialism’ when they speak of ‘responsibilities
30 for providing employment, eliminating discrimination, avoiding pollution and whatever
31 else may be the catchwords of the contemporary crop of reformers’ (1993: 249).
32
33 According to Friedman, the doctrine of social responsibility makes two claims. These
34 are that business must actively seek to do good (that is, not just avoid transgressing
35 ‘ethical custom’) and this ‘good’ must not be done for profit, that is, it must not be
36 done with self-interest in mind. If it was, Friedman would have no objection to it. But
37 is actively seeking to do good easily distinguishable from the mere avoidance of doing
38 evil? Friedman seems to believe it is but it is difficult to see how the examples that
39 he points to demonstrate this. It could be argued that some of the examples he lists,
40 ‘eliminating discrimination’ or ‘avoiding pollution’, are doing ‘good’, but at the same
41 time they are actions which are engaged in getting rid of or avoiding social evils. What
42 Friedman’s own examples illustrate is that on many occasions the moral choice is
43 between doing good or, by default, doing evil. Chryssides and Kaler (1993: 232) note:
44
45 Friedman’s assumption of a neat division between ‘ethical custom’ and business
46 social responsibility takes too narrow a view of both. The first cannot be confined
47 to simply the passive avoidance of evil or the second to just the active pursuit of
48 good because very often good and evil are simply two sides of the same moral coin.
49 Friedman is therefore wrong to assume that acceptance of ‘ethical custom’ has no
1150 implication for the adoption of socially responsible policies by business. Clearly it
5111 has; if only because such is the power of business over people’s lives that its failure
to do good will very often result in great evils being permitted to flourish.

Business ethics and corporate responsibility 113

1111 It is not only Friedman’s definition of corporate social responsibility which is flawed,
2 there are also problems with the arguments he presents against corporate social respon-
3 sibility. One of his key arguments, sometimes referred to as ‘the agency argument’, is
4 that managers of corporations are merely agents of the shareholders in the companies
5 they work for. The owners of businesses, the shareholders, are the only people to whom
6 managers are accountable and the only responsibility managers have is to act in their
7 interests. This means maximising profits so that the shareholders will make as much
8 money as possible from their shares. Friedman presents his premise about a manager’s
9 role vis-à-vis the shareholders as a ‘statement of legal fact’ (Chryssides and Kaler 1993:
10 234). While other interests may be taken into account,4 Friedman is largely correct in
11 stating that the managers of a corporation must ultimately serve the interests of the
12 shareholders. However, in British and US law the corporation is a separate legal entity
13 and is not identified solely with any particular group – employees, shareholders or direc-
14 tors. It is precisely this issue of ‘legal identification’ which incorporation is meant to
15 resolve. This means that whilst employees, shareholders and directors may, and do,
16 change, the corporation carries on as the identifiable possessor of legal rights and duties.
Chryssides and Kaler (1993: 229) note that:
11117
18 [B]ecause they are employed by the company rather than its shareholders, changes
19 in shareholding do not, of themselves, affect the legal position of employees, be
20 they managers or workers, they continue to be employed by the same company.
21 In an important respect, changes in shareholding do not even affect ownership. It is
22 the company as a corporate entity which owns the assets of the business. What the
23 shareholders own is a right to a share of any distributable financial surplus. They
24 in effect own the company rather than its assets. Consequently, the right of the
25 company, acting through its employees, to utilize those assets is legally unaffected
26 by changes in shareholding.
27
28 Managers therefore are not directly the agents of the shareholders in the way that
29 Friedman wishes to imply, although shareholders are, in roundabout way, the owners
30 of the business. Friedman’s assertion that the interests of the corporation ought to be
31 exclusively identified with its shareholders’ must be seen in the context of his advo-
32 cacy of the values of free enterprise. These values involve a combination of egoism
33 and utilitarianism, a view that claims that if everyone pursues their own self-interest
34 within a free market, the result is the greatest happiness, or economic well-being, for
35 the greatest number of actors within that market. This argument, that only the interests
36 of shareholders are important, is not universally accepted. There is, in fact, an argu-
37 ment that the managers should act as the agents of all groups associated with the corpo-
38 ration and not just the shareholders. Those who support this view reject Friedman’s
39 ‘stockholder model’ in favour of what is usually referred to as the ‘stakeholder model’.
40
41 Kantian capitalism and the stakeholder approach
42
43 The ‘stakeholder model’ is so named because those who propose it argue that the task
44 of the corporate manager is to balance the interests of all the different groups who have
45 a ‘stake’ in the company. These groups might include shareholders, employees,
46 customers, suppliers, the local community and even broader society. The interests of
47 the shareholders in increasing their profits is only one interest amongst many that the
48 management must consider. This model requires the corporation to take account of its
49 social responsibilities. Evan and Freeman (1993) argue from a Kantian perspective for

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1 adoption of the stakeholder model. They utilise Kant’s categorical imperative to argue
2 that all human beings have a right not to be treated as merely a means but as an end
3 in themselves. Corporate policy must consider all of its stakeholders. They go on to
4 argue that all affected groups should actually have a role in determining company
5 policy. Evan and Freeman (1993: 255) state their belief in a Kantian ethical doctrine
6 explicitly:
7
8 We can revitalize the concept of managerial capitalism by replacing the notion that
9 managers have a duty to stockholders with the concept that managers bear a fidu-
10 ciary relationship to stakeholders. Stakeholders are those groups who have a stake
11 in or claim on the firm. Specifically we include suppliers, customers, employees,
12 stockholders and the local community, as well as management in its role as agent
13 for these groups. We argue that the legal, economic, political, and moral challenges
14 to the currently received theory of the firm, as a nexus of contracts among the owners
15 of the factors of production and customers, require us to revise this concept along
16 essentially Kantian lines. That is, each of these stakeholder groups has a right not
11117 to be treated as a means to some end, and therefore must participate in determining
18 the future direction of the firm in which they have a stake.
19
20 They argue that, in the USA, changes in the legal system have been progressively
21 circumscribing the idea that the corporation is only run in the interests of the ‘stock-
22 holders’. They point to a number of legal cases in the USA which show that although
23 stockholders’ interests are still paramount, other interests, customers’, suppliers’, local
24 communities’ and employees’, have increasingly secured protection under the law (Evan
25 and Freeman 1993: 255–7). Friedman’s viewpoint, they would argue, is slowly being
26 overtaken by changes more in line with a stakeholder approach.
27
28 In the stakeholder model the corporation coordinates stakeholder interests. It is
29 through the corporation that each stakeholder group makes itself better off through
30 voluntary exchanges. They argue that the ‘corporation serves at the pleasure of its stake-
31 holders, and none may be used as a means to the ends of another without full rights
32 of participation in that decision’ (p. 262). From the stakeholder perspective corporate
33 social responsibility is not an optional extra. It is integral to the responsibilities of the
34 company and the company must pay as much attention to its social duties as it does
35 to maximising profits.
36
37 The practice of corporate social responsibility
38
39 This section will analyse the language public relations specialists use to explain corpor-
40 ate social responsibility programmes and will suggest that they tend to rely upon the
41 language of the classical ethical theories to do so. First, however, it is important to
42 locate the role of public relations within the practice of social responsibility. When
43 business organisations decide to involve themselves in local communities they usually
44 attempt to explain why they are doing what they are doing. This task of explanation
45 is usually allocated to the company’s public relations department. This is hardly
46 surprising since public relations specialists tend to play a key role in setting up corpo-
47 rate social responsibility programmes in the first place.
48
49
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Business ethics and corporate responsibility 115

1111 Public relations and corporate social responsibility
2
3 ‘Come & See’ is very much a PR initiative – the question is, does PR stand for Public
4 Relations here, or Propaganda Really? The message is that nuclear power . . . is clean
5 and green . . . that radiation has always been around and is natural . . . also that nuclear
6 power is safe . . . I’d heard that word ‘safe’ used a lot, and it was beginning to acquire
7 a kind of Orwellian charm.
8
9 (Scotland on Sunday Magazine,
10 quoted in Tilson 1993: 432)
11
12 The practice of corporate social responsibility is usually regarded as a public relations
13 function because this is where a company meets the public outside of the usual roles
14 of producers and customers. There is, however, another key reason why public rela-
15 tions specialists have tended to be associated with corporate social responsibility,
16 namely, the claim that public relations can be a mechanism within liberal, pluralist
society which has as its raison d’être the realisation of ‘laudable social goals’ (Gandy
11117 1992: 133).
18
19 For J.A. Pimlot (1951), the historian of public relations in the USA, public relations
20 is intricately connected with what he views as democratic ideals. He writes: ‘They [the
21 public relations specialists] are experts in popularizing information . . . the better the
22 job of popularization, the more smoothly will society function’ (quoted in Pearson 1992:
23 257). Heath (1992: 20) argues that ‘professional communicators have a major voice in
24 the marketplace of ideas’ but that ultimately these voices ‘compete to achieve cooper-
25 ation – the collective and coordinated actions of people in society’. Cutlip et al. (1995:
26 134) go further and argue that public relations practitioners ‘must operate as moral
27 agents in society’ and they must be prepared to place ‘public service and social respon-
28 sibility over personal gains and special private interests’.
29
30 These claims that public relations is concerned with the public interest are in part a
31 reaction to the kinds of remarks noted above – that PR stands for ‘propaganda really’ –
32 about the visitor centre at Scottish Nuclear plc. However, it is also clear that there is a
33 significant strand within public relations theorising which claims that its practice can
34 have a positive contribution within society, although this usually comes with the pro-
35 viso that practice needs to be transformed (Grunig 1989). It almost goes without saying
36 that there is bound to be a tension between this conception of public relations serving
37 the interests of society and the requirement that it serves the interests of the corpora-
38 tion. This tension between responsibility to the needs of the company and responsibil-
39 ity to the needs of society is sometimes exposed by the language used in corporate
40 documents that attempt to explain the practice of corporate social responsibility.
41
42 The language of corporate social responsibility
43
44 Companies frequently justify corporate social responsibility programmes by referring
45 to the notion of ‘enlightened self-interest’. For example, community programmes may
46 be justified with the utilitarian argument that ‘everyone benefits’. The company’s image
47 is enhanced and a local community materially benefited. Neil Shaw, chairman of Tate
48 & Lyle plc, explains the mutual benefits of community programmes:
49
Our community activities, both in the UK and abroad, focus particularly on initiatives
11150 in the localities of our plants and the provision of direct assistance for individuals
5111 seeking further educational attainment. In addition, we also encourage secondment

116 The Public Relations Handbook

1 of employees to particular projects in the belief that, not only can this make a worth-
2 while contribution to community activities, but in doing so, the experience will
3 enable volunteers to develop their own management potential.
4
5 (Newman 1995: 99)
6
7 L’Etang (1996a) notes that while corporate social responsibility programmes are indeed
8 justified on utilitarian grounds there seems to be little attempt to actually evaluate and
9 quantify the effect of such programmes. She points out that if such evaluation is lacking
10 then companies ‘will not be in a position to claim that they have contributed to happi-
11 ness. In short, corporate social responsibility justified on utilitarian grounds needs to
12 demonstrate cost-benefit analysis from the perspectives of donor, recipient and society
13 in general’ (p. 92).
14
15 It is also the case that information which public relations departments supply
16 frequently alludes, in Kantian language, to the organisation’s responsibilities or duties
11117 to the community, or society as a whole. Lord Raynor, chairman of Marks & Spencer,
18 states: ‘There rests on all companies, particularly large organisations like ours, a respon-
19 sibility to assist through donations and help, the charities and agencies which exist in
20 the community’ (L’Etang 1996a: 91). L’Etang (1996a) notes that claims are seldom
21 matched by the practice of corporations. She argues that a Kantian approach to corpor-
22 ate social responsibility would focus on the motivation behind the programme, because
23 seeking benefit from carrying out your responsibilities would not be ethical. From this
24 perspective a corporate social responsibility programme needs to demonstrate that it is
25 motivated by duty, and not self-interest (enlightened or any other kind). If a company
26 were attempting to improve its image via community involvement then it would be
27 treating beneficiaries as a means and not as ends in themselves and thus breaking Kant’s
28 categorical imperative. L’Etang (1996a) points out that if corporations took on board
29 Kantian principles then their corporate social responsibility programmes might be
30 managed rather differently. If the beneficiaries of corporate social responsibility are to
31 be treated as ends in themselves then they should be accorded equal status in defining
32 the relationship between the corporation and themselves. Whilst the language of the
33 classical ethical theories is adopted to explain and justify corporate social responsi-
34 bility, companies tend not to fulfil the full implications of these ethical doctrines and
35 can leave themselves open to the charge of cynicism.
36
37 A further problem is that companies do not restrict themselves to justifying corpor-
38 ate social responsibility solely from a utilitarian or a Kantian perspective. Robert Clarke,
39 chairman of United Biscuits, states: ‘Our commitment to community involvement stems
40 from our strong sense of social responsibility combined with the realization of the
41 commercial benefits that it brings . . . a generous and far-reaching sense of community
42 responsibility – are essential to effective long-term business performance’ (Newman
43 1995: 99). L’Etang notes that in ‘many cases corporate literature is confusing because
44 it appears to appeal to both utilitarian and Kantian principles yet apparently delivers
45 on neither’ (1996a: 93). This point, while accurate, can perhaps be explained to some
46 extent by the fact that the classical ethical doctrines need to be qualified by each other
47 in order to arrive at an ethic which balances rights and obligations with the ‘greater
48 good’. There is another reason for the appeal to different ethical doctrines and this
49 involves the recognition that corporate discourse has many different audiences. The
1150 next section will discuss the case of Telewest Communications plc which is an example
5111 of a corporate donor justifying its social responsibility in different ways, to different
audiences.

Business ethics and corporate responsibility 117

1111 The ‘discourses’ of corporate social responsibility:
2 Telewest Communications plc
3
4 The Public Relations Department of Telewest Communications plc, in its ‘community
5 information pack’5 (available 1996–7), states that ‘Telewest’s most significant contri-
6 bution to local communities is through its educational initiative – Cable in the
7 Classroom.’ In the pack Telewest points out that it is working with local authorities to
8 provide multi-channel cable television services and interactive internet access to all
9 schools within the Telewest franchise areas. The community information pack does not
10 discuss corporate social responsibility explicitly, but implicitly there is a message
11 throughout the pack to the effect that Telewest is fulfilling its duty or responsibility to
12 local communities by helping out in this way.
13
14 Obviously this kind of project requires a significant level of expenditure and the
15 company’s 1997 Annual Report had to explain ‘Cable in the Classroom’ to the share-
16 holders. The project is discussed in the section entitled ‘Building stronger relationships
with customers’ and here more utilitarian language is used to explain the benefits of
11117 the project for the community and the company. The Annual Report states: ‘Our activity
18 in local communities extends beyond the construction and marketing phase and is best
19 evidenced by our involvement with schools and colleges.’ Regarding the decision to
20 offer these services to local communities the report notes: ‘The offer has helped us to
21 develop a positive role in the community, and to enhance awareness of our product
22 with future customers.’ It later adds: ‘The decision has received strong endorsement
23 within educational, political and regulatory circles and will further strengthen our
24 position in the communities we serve.’ The key point here is that the same corporate
25 social responsibility programme can be explained or justified in different ways, using
26 different language, depending upon the expectations of the audience. If the ‘utilitarian’
27 explanation used in the Annual Report had been used in the community information
28 pack the media may well have focused on the phrase ‘enhance awareness of our
29 product with future customers’ and the programme might well have been portrayed as
30 a cynical exercise in product placement. If the Annual Report had merely contained
31 an explanation of the project and the expected benefits for the community, shareholders
32 may well have asked what the benefit of all this expenditure was to Telewest and
33 ultimately to them.
34
35 Conclusion
36
37 With regard to the role of public relations in corporate social responsibility, there would
38 appear to be two choices. Public relations practitioners can use corporate social respon-
39 sibility as just another element in ‘the creation, or “engineering” of consent’ in order
40 to foster ‘a favourable and positive climate of opinion toward the . . . institution’
41 (Steinberg 1975, quoted in Gandy 1992: 133). Or they could try to realise the idea that
42 public relations can act in the public interest (Grunig 1989, Cutlip et al. 1995) by
43 making genuine attempts to discover the requirements of community stakeholders and
44 help companies be more responsive to social needs. To achieve the latter a stakeholder
45 model is a prerequisite. This model argues that a corporation should be run in the inter-
46 ests of all the groups which have a stake in it. All stakeholder groups including the
47 potential beneficiaries of the corporate social responsibility should contribute to the
48 decision-making process. This would demonstrate that companies are treating the bene-
49 ficiaries of corporate social responsibility with ‘good will’ and as ends in themselves.

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1 Portway (1995) makes the point that there is a requirement to track the company’s
2 performance in a way that can be reported to its community stakeholders. This kind of
3 measurement and evaluation can then take its place ‘in managing stakeholder relation-
4 ships alongside customer satisfaction programmes and employee opinion surveys’
5 (p. 229). Evan and Freeman ( 1993: 265) admit that this may seem ‘utopian’, but it
6 would appear that until all business audiences are convinced that corporate social respon-
7 sibility is more than just self-interest, public relations departments will continue to use
8 different explanations, based on different ethical doctrines, to justify corporate social
9 responsibility to their different audiences.
10
11 Notes
12
13 1 For a comprehensive explanation of this terminology and a discussion of perspectives and
14 issues relating to business ethics see Chryssides and Kaler (1993).
15
16 2 This discussion does not assess the impact of religious morality which obviously has a pro-
11117 found influence upon business ethics in many cultures. The theory that certain actions are
18 right because God commands them – for example, in the Bible, the Qur’an or the Torah –
19 is sometimes known as the Divine Command theory (Chryssides and Kaler 1993: 84).
20 Occasionally in discussions surrounding issues of corporate social responsibility it is asserted
21 that certain groups such as the Quakers displayed an altruistic approach in their business
22 dealings and gave help to local communities. L’Etang (1996a: 84) notes that there is a con-
23 fusion here between ‘philanthropy’ and ‘social responsibility’. I would agree but would add
24 that there also seems to be a fundamental misunderstanding of what motivates such religious
25 groups who act in the way they do because certain kinds of behaviour, toward employees
26 and society, are prescribed in the Bible.
27
28 3 To suggest that we can measure happiness seems rather unrealistic but it could be argued
29 that the discipline of economics ‘has attempted, indirectly, to introduce an element of quan-
30 tification in that consumption of goods and services is said to satisfy wants’ (Chryssides
31 and Kaler 1993: 92). It is certainly the case that economics and utilitarian ethical theory
32 have a long historical connection and there is a degree of conceptual and terminological
33 overlap. For example Chryssides and Kaler (1993: 93) note that ‘in economics the capacity
34 in goods and services to provide satisfaction is spoken of as their utility’.
35
36 4 Interestingly the 1980 Companies Act permits British company directors to have regard to
37 the interest of employees, but this is an option they are legally free to exercise rather than
38 a duty which has to be fulfilled (see Chryssides and Kaler 1993: 234).
39
40 5 The ‘community information pack’ was sent to anyone in the franchise area who requested
41 it, individuals, schools and local press and community groups. There was very little expla-
42 nation of the kinds of cable services which Telewest would be supplying, but there was a
43 great deal of information about the impact on the environment of installing cable and the
44 general possibilities of the cable technology for business, education and so on.
45
46
47
48
49
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Part III

Stakeholder
public relations

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11117
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1111 10 Media relations
2
3 P ublic relations has its origins in the field of media relations. This is one of the
4 reasons why the two are repeatedly used as interchangeable terms, especially by
5 journalists. It may also go some way to explain the knee-jerk antagonistic reac-
6 tion of some journalists to public relations – one journalist has even been heard to
7 remark, ‘Without PR people, journalists would be the lowest organism in the food
8 chain.’ It is true that early practitioners were publicists and press agents whose main
9 aim was to gain ‘free’ press coverage at any cost, and the truth was not allowed to get
10 in the way of a good story. Modern day publicists still behave in this way (Max Clifford,
11 often erroneously referred to by the media as a ‘PR guru’, is dealt with in Chapter 3).
12
13 However, with the growth in the maturity of the PR profession, not only has it come
14 to concern itself with the wider issues of strategic and corporate management which
15 were discussed in Part II, but a more ethical mode of interaction with the media has
16 evolved. According to Grunig and Hunt (1984) over 50 per cent of practitioners operate
the public information model of PR, where the dissemination of information is the main
11117 purpose. Whilst this model emphasises honesty, it still does not really address the opin-
18 ions of stakeholder groups. Practitioners have taken on board the need for openness
19 and accessibility to companies’ affairs.
20
21 The basics of media relations
22
23 The first exponent of this method was Ivy Leadbetter Lee (see also Chapter 1), who
24 in the early 1900s worked for coal operators in Philadelphia threatened with strike
25 action by the United Mine Workers Union. He issued a Declaration of Principles, which
26 stated, ‘We aim to supply news . . . Our matter is accurate.’ The Declaration went on,
27
28 Our plan is, frankly and openly, on behalf of the business concerns and public insti-
29 tutions, to supply to the press and public of the United States prompt and accurate
30 information concerning subjects which it is of value and interest to the public to
31 know about.
32
33 (quoted in Grunig and Hunt 1984: 33)
34
35 Media relations is still the activity on which the majority of PR practitioners spend
36 most of their time. Wragg argues (in Bland et al. 1996: 66–7) that
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49

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1 The purpose of press relations is not to issue press releases, or handle enquiries
2 from journalists, or even to generate a massive pile of press cuttings. The true
3 purpose of press relations is to enhance the reputation of an organisation and its
4 products, and to influence and inform the target audience.
5
6 Whilst it is largely of a tactical nature in practice, good media relations can contribute
7 to longer-term strategic objectives, such as:
8
9 • improving company or brand image
10
11 • higher and better media profile
12
13 • changing the attitudes of target audiences (such as customers)
14
15 • improving relationships with the community
16
11117 • increasing market share
18
19 • influencing government policy at local, national or international level
20
21 • improving communications with investors and their advisers
22
23 • improving industrial relations.
24
25 As such, media relations forms part of most strategies in the following chapters in Part
26 III.
27
28 What exactly do media relations consist of ? There are a multitude of books which
29 deal with the mechanics of contacting the media, how to write press releases in a
30 specific format that conforms to the needs of journalists, and the best ways to target
31 and distribute this information. Most stress the five Ws (who, what, where, when and
32 why), and the need to make the release appropriate to the style and content of the
33 targeted publication or broadcast, although not too closely in case journalists feel threat-
34 ened. There is even a whole book devoted simply to how to write a press release
35 (Bartrum 1995). A variety of methods of contact are put forward. Media releases can
36 be supplemented by press conferences, media briefings, exclusive interviews, feature
37 articles and photo opportunities. Haywood (1990: 193–217) provides a useful set of
38 checklists. Advice is also offered on selectivity in targeting. ‘Far too many news releases
39 are sent to far too many publications’, says Jefkins (1994: 154), urging the use of one
40 of the many companies which supply up-to-date media listings.
41
42 A study of these texts serves to indicate that despite the expansion in the number of
43 media titles and the development of satellite, cable and electronic broadcast media,
44 media relations is carried out in the same way that Ivy Lee did it. The proliferation of
45 media has led to ‘a perpetual, global slow news day’ (Gulker, quoted in Theaker 1997),
46 so that PR practitioners may find it easier to get their material used by the media. On
47 the other hand, the greater number of titles has led to the development of smaller, niche
48 outlets, so practitioners have to be more aware of the exact nature of the audience they
49 are trying to reach.
1150
5111 Whilst there are pages of advice on how to write media releases, how to target
regional and specialist media and build up personal relationships with journalists, little
account is taken of new technology or its impact. Haywood (1995) stresses that it is
important to understand how the media work, yet much of his advice concerns the print
and broadcast media. Indeed, standard advice on writing media releases (double spaced
lines, wide margins) is a descendant of the days when journalists received hard copy
through the post, marked it up and sent it off to typesetters for it to be made up to be
printed. Stone (1995: 177) refers to the expansion of cable and satellite leading to the

Media relations 123

1111 practice of producing ‘infomercials’, or advertisements that resemble television pro-
2 grammes. White and Mazur (1995) suggest that media relations may give way to ‘links
3 based on a larger number of possible communication channels and more responsive
4 forms of communication’.
5
6 The impact of new technology
7
8 It is true that expansion of the electronic media is happening at such a rate that any
9 book, with its lengthy production schedule, could never hope to keep up. But is the
10 revolution in media relations as far reaching as that in information technology? The
11 unsurprising fact is that the impact of new technology varies according to individual
12 journalists, the media they work in and the industry sector.
13
14 Martin Wainwright, northern editor of the Guardian, said, when interviewed in 1997,
15 ‘New technology has not changed the way I work. It’s easier to have a press release
16 to hand while typing on screen.’ On the other hand, Maggie Walshe, a freelance PR
practitioner with clients in the information technology and digital television area, said
11117 ‘Media relations has completely changed’ (Theaker 1997).
18
19 In order to gain an impression of the impact of new technology, a survey was carried
20 out by the author in March 1999. Three hundred questionnaires were sent out to jour-
21 nalists working in national and regional press, both daily and Sunday titles, national
22 and regional radio and specialist IT publications. A response rate of 26 per cent was
23 achieved, although this was overwhelmingly from the regional media. Only 8 per cent
24 of journalists from national media replied, 18 per cent from IT publications, and 28
25 per cent from regional media. However, the information received provides an inter-
26 esting snapshot of journalists’ attitudes.
27
28 Questionnaires were sent out by email, fax and mail, randomly selected from the
29 sample. Only 12 per cent of questionnaires sent by email were responded to, as against
30 29 per cent sent by fax and 35 per cent sent by mail.
31
32 Journalists were asked how many releases they received each day, and which method
33 of contact was most frequently used by PR practitioners, whether they received infor-
34 mation by mail, phone, fax, email, courier or other methods, and which methods they
35 preferred. Tables 10.1–10.3 show the responses received.
36
37 Journalists receive a great deal of information each day, of which media releases are
38 only one source. Nearly a quarter receive over 100 releases, so the amount of time
39 available to read this information is strictly limited. ‘There is nothing a busy journalist
40 hates more than receiving reams of unsolicited press releases, and the situation is even
41 worse when the information is delivered in a format the recipient does not like dealing
42 with’, says Mary Cowlett (1999c).
43
44 It would seem from the responses to the survey that the majority of PR practitioners
45 are continuing to use the traditional method of hard copy in the post, with the second
46 most popular method being the fax, presumably because of its speed. But the majority
47 of journalists (apart from one wag who replied that he would prefer not to be contacted
48 by any of these methods at all) seem to prefer it that way. It has to be said that although
49 more journalists would prefer to receive information by email than do at present, 75
per cent of those who expressed this preference work for IT publications, where the
11150 level of familiarity and expertise with new technology would be expected to be higher.
5111 This is confirmed by Jo Chipchase’s survey of IT journalists, which is reported in
Chapter 18. Commercial distribution houses have introduced rolling programmes to
verify which journalists like to receive information on which subjects, and how they

124 The Public Relations Handbook

1 Table 10.1 Number of press releases received
2 daily (%)
3
4 Less than 20 11
5 20–50 39
6 50–100 28
7 Over 100 21
8
9 Table 10.2 Methods of delivery most
10 commonly used (%)
11
12 Mail 61
13 Fax 39
14 Email 9
15 Phone 3
16 Courier 0
11117
18 Table 10.3 Method of contact preferred (%)
19
20 Mail 48
21 Fax 46
22 Email 15
23 Phone 8
24 Other (face-to-face) 1
25
26 want it delivered. PR Newswire Europe has over 100,000 entries, which are updated
27 weekly for the most important titles, less frequently for more specialist contacts. There
28 is also a split, where the UK, Germany, France, Italy and Spain are higher priority than
29 the Vatican and the Faroe Islands. Media Information has set up Prnet, which has 5,000
30 registered journalists who specify what subjects they are interested in. ‘Because people
31 are emailed with information on topics they have requested, this means they can pull
32 down the news stories which interest them the most’, says sales and marketing manager
33 Paul Mitchinson. PiMs can create customised lists of contacts, incorporating fax and
34 email numbers as preferred (Cowlett 1999c).
35
36 Also, other problems are associated with the use of email, such as being unable to
37 connect to the server, errors caused by use of an incorrect address and inability of the
38 recipient to download large files and read attachments. Those who send releases in this
39 way should type the release directly into the email, or save it as a text document in
40 Word and attach it. Use of the subject line for a headline and provision of contact
41 information should be considered in the same way as conventional releases. Freelance
42 journalists also have the added cost of having to pay for the length of time they are
43 online, and do not wish to receive unsolicited material.
44
45 Journalists have perennially complained about media releases being addressed to the
46 wrong people and poorly targeted. The author’s survey also asked what the main prob-
47 lems were with releases. Table 10.4 shows the results.
48
49 Whilst it would seem that PR practitioners have improved by correctly addressing
1150 their releases, the majority of journalists still feel, as Jefkins above, that too many
5111

Media relations 125

1111 Table 10.4 Problems experienced with media
2 releases (%)
3
4 Irrelevant 66
5 Not newsworthy 65
6 Over branded 32
7 Badly written 25
8 Boring 25
9 Wrongly addressed 4
10
11 releases are being sent to them which are not relevant to their publication or programme.
12 More efficient targeting can have significant effects on costs. ‘Four years ago, our
13 postage bill was about £10–15,000 per month: now it’s down to around £3–5,000’, says
14 Katie Kemp of Text 100. She also feels that the advent of the internet has increased
15 journalists’ expectations of a more personal service: ‘Five years ago we’d speak to
16 maybe 50 journalists each day, while now we speak to around 200’ (Cowlett 1999c).

11117 Despite the fact that a few journalists commented that they could not recall any
18 examples of good PR, there were signs that antagonism between journalists and PR
19 people is not as widespread as commonly held. Several quoted local councils, police
20 and health authorities, housing associations and utilities as providing good service. One
21 journalist mentioned a leisure company which were ‘masters at forcing us to do stories’.
22 Others gave general hints, such as ‘Don’t try to oversell the product. Look for a human
23 angle. Think about people.’
24
25 Follow up calls were particularly disliked.
26
27 The most irritating practice is following up phone calls to the editor asking if we
28 have received a release which had no bearing on us at all and was probably binned.
29 We certainly won’t remember a release unless someone local was involved.
30
31 Some felt that ‘the jazzier the packaging, the brighter the release, the better the story’,
32 whilst others commented, ‘I’ve never found any PR stunt to be of any great help in
33 selling a story to me. If the story is good it will sell itself, but bad PR can kill a good
34 story.’ Several referred to well-written releases, which were backed up by available
35 contacts: ‘Simply and interestingly written, relevant to our target audience and area’;
36 ‘Focused and relevant, good visuals worked out and interviewees lined up’; ‘An embar-
37 goed press release which offers interviews in advance’.
38
39 Whilst PR practitioners are often encouraged to be persistent, knowing when to stop
40 is also valuable: ‘ I like PR people who know that “no” means “no”, particularly when
41 they are trying to flog a dead horse.’
42
43 Although there are more media titles, staffing in the newsrooms has been reduced,
44 with the result that journalists can rarely take time away from their desks and are depen-
45 dent on news sources to come to them. However, there is more information around
46 and more places to pick it up from, deadlines are tighter, and where new technology has
47 come into its own is with a greater amount of background research being carried out
48 online rather than through personal contact. One journalist responded, ‘Good relation-
49 ships between PR people and journalists are a real bonus.’

11150 PR practitioners have also to keep up with developments in the broadcast media. In
5111 the field of radio, 15 years ago there were just 50 commercial stations, now there are
more than 225. This has meant that radio can be used in a more targeted way, as

126 The Public Relations Handbook

1 different audiences have stations which deal with different tastes. ‘There was a lack of
2 understanding among PR agencies as to how to target radio stations. We used to get
3 the same press releases as magazines and they had nothing to do with what we wanted
4 on our programmes’, says Sarah Braben, former marketing director of Capital Radio.
5 As with other media, targeting is the key. Ideas which are most welcome are those
6 with a local slant but national relevance, preferably featuring someone the listeners
7 know, with something entertaining and informative. Using specialist broadcast facili-
8 ties, enabling an interviewee to give several interviews down the line to several local
9 stations from a central point, can mean reaching millions of listeners. The BBC has
10 five national and 39 local stations, but has a greater sensitivity to news items with
11 commercial connotations (Shelton 1999). This medium is set to increase in importance
12 with the advent of digital radio.
13
14 The use of the internet has affected media relations as journalists are able to obtain
15 information straight from a website rather than waiting for press releases. ‘The internet
16 can also make an organisation more porous, and information can flood out . . . an
11117 employee or anyone else with a grudge can easily make information available to a wide
18 audience’, says Shelton (2000). The development of the internet is discussed in detail
19 in Chapter 18, but also affects many of the other areas discussed in Part III. The use of
20 the internet in issues management and lobbying has already been covered in Chapter 8.
21
22 The following case study is included to show the workings of a busy media rela-
23 tions specialist working within a well-known retail company, Marks & Spencer.
24
25 Case study: Sue Sadler, Manager, Food Press
26 and PR Office, Marks & Spencer
27
28 For some years, M&S was the benchmark for quality produce and clothing. Indeed, the
29 company was so confident that for many years it did not spend anything on advertising,
30 relying on the reputation which had been built up over many years. With ructions in the
31 boardroom in late 1998, the company found it could no longer rely on its past successes.
32 Problems at top management level and a severe drop in profits had far-reaching effects
33 on all aspects of the company. Clothes were denounced as dowdy by the fashion press.
34 The corporate affairs director left in 1997, and was not replaced until 2000. The fact
35 that the company decided to look externally to fill this position rather than following its
36 normal practice of promoting from within was also seen positively. However, specula-
37 tion about possible takeovers still had to be quelled. Financial and corporate help was
38 hired from Brunswick, recognising that M&S had previously neglected this area. Whereas
39 five years ago the product spoke for itself, M&S has had to fight for coverage more
40 recently (Cowlett 2000a). On the fashion side, the introduction of the Autograph designer
41 range is going some way towards improving the fashion ranges.
42
43 Sue Sadler has had the job of dealing with the food side of the company’s product
44 ranges.
45
46 The overall aim of press relations is to enhance the company’s image, and in my
47 area we do that through enhancing the value that they put on our products.
48
49 It’s a priority to respond to journalists in time for their deadline. They are often
1150 given impossible deadlines, and if we don’t deliver in time we’re of no value to
5111 journalists at all.

Targeting is a perennial conflict. The temptation is to send it to everyone, on
the basis that the more people that get it the better, but that can be the worst thing.

Media relations 127

1111 It can have a negative effect. If you are constantly sending the wrong thing you are
2 going to alienate them, so that by the time you do have something that might interest
3 them, they will probably throw it in the bin. The food area is very clear cut. Some
4 write about recipes, some write about products. It is our job to know what they are
5 interested in and be specific in what we send them.
6
7 When we first started using a consultancy, they said, ‘Don’t be too hidebound,
8 although that person may be writing about that area now, they may write about
9 something different in future.’ They advised sending releases out to more people,
10 but we started to get complaints. The advantage of being in-house is that you get
11 to know your sector better.
12
13 Although things have been difficult for Marks & Spencer most journalists getting
14 something from us will at least think it is worth reading. We have been careful to
15 create a specific image for the food area.
16
It’s also important to build up credibility on a personal level. Journalists want to
11117 be able to get hold of people straight away, so we have to make sure the office is
18 always staffed. Most will ring up to get a quote to supplement any media release –
19 you can’t beat the personal touch. Journalists can feel that they are part of a long
20 list if they get a press release, you are more likely to have success with a story
21 through offering exclusives by phone.
22
23 The food area has its fair share of issues to deal with.
24
25 There are one or two product recalls each year. Some milk chocolate bunnies were
26 found to cause an allergic reaction, and we found that they had been made on a
27 production line next to one where nuts had been used and some dust may have
28 blown over. There are clear guidelines about what we do in those circumstances to
29 inform the media and the public.
30
31 Marks & Spencer had sold organic produce in the early 1990s, but had stopped selling
32 it because the consistency of quality and supply was poor. However, consumer interest
33 in organic produce has increased and, after consumer research, the company decided
34 to re-enter the organic market in 1998. ‘More of us became questioning consumers and
35 as a result producers were forced to reconsider the way they cultivated their land and
36 raised their animals’, says Catey Hillier. The market is growing – Sainsbury’s sales of
37 organic food now top £1 million per week (Hillier 2000).
38
39 A press release was issued in May 1998 (Figure 10.1), and journalists were also sent
40 samples of the organic produce to encourage them to cover the story. Initially there
41 were two questions to answer: the company was sourcing produce from abroad and
42 was only introducing seven lines in 21 stores. An internal briefing document was
43 produced to help staff answer these questions. The limited product range was offered
44 as an initial market exercise which would be extended if successful. Background was
45 provided on the fact that UK producers were more seasonal and therefore M&S could
46 not source the majority of their range from them. However, the company organised an
47 organic produce supplier conference in July 1998 with its top 20 produce suppliers to
48 inform and encourage them to apply for organic accreditation from the Soil Association.
49 (Soil must be left for two years to break down pesticide residues before produce can
be claimed to be organic.) M&S introduced further organic products in January and
11150 March 1999.
5111
Genetic modification (GM) of food also caused problems for Marks & Spencer.
Initially, M&S welcomed the emerging science, and issued a statement in May 1998

128 The Public Relations Handbook

1 Image rights not available
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1111 Figure 10.2 Marks & Spencer press release on the use of GM food
2
3 Used with permission
4
5 that ‘good science, well applied, is an essential principle of our business’. The state-
6 ment made clear that the only GM ingredients used by the company were soya and
7 maize, which had been declared safe by the appropriate authorities. All products
8 containing GM ingredients were to be clearly labelled, and all data on any new GM
9 products would be analysed to assess their safety and impact on the environment.
10 However, rising consumer disquiet led the company to announce in March 1999 that
11 it would be removing all GM ingredients and derivatives from its products (Figure
12 10.2). Whilst stressing that they remained confident in the safety of GM ingredients,
13 the company made it clear that customer concerns had led it to take the decision. The
14 announcement was made once the company felt confident that it could source all its
15 ingredients from alternative supplies, and the transition period for the changeover would
16

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1 be the following three months. By taking the initiative and becoming the only major
2 retailer at the time who would have no products containing GM ingredients on its
3 shelves (it sells 100 per cent own brand), M&S gained a great deal of positive coverage,
4 with such emotive headlines as ‘Marks and Spencer bans Frankenstein food’. The
5 company also set up a GM helpline to answer customer queries.
6
7 The organic range is promoted in stores with posters and cards, and a customer
8 brochure has been produced which explains some of the more complicated aspects of
9 organic production. The M&S Select Farms traceability scheme enables produce to be
10 traced back to a specific farm and even, in the case of meat products, animal.
11
12 Whilst concerns have more recently been raised about safety issues such as the risk
13 of e. coli poisoning through the use of manure, a consumer backlash has yet to happen,
14 and supermarkets have continued to work to meet a consumer demand for a perceived
15 healthier lifestyle (Cowlett 2000b).
16
11117 Media relations forms a major part of public relations in certain areas, but it can be
18 seen that other techniques are also used to supplement and support media activity. It
19 is far better to be pro-active in company policy and provide the media with positive
20 stories to cover. It also allows organisations to set their own agenda and look ahead in
21 a strategic way, rather than simply reacting to journalists’ negative queries if they think
22 they can uncover some wrongdoing.
23
24 The following chapters will contain references to media relations, set in the context
25 of wider strategies which use a variety of techniques and tactics to communicate with
26 a wide variety of stakeholders.
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1111 11 Internal
2 communications
3
4 W hilst most of the issues discussed so far concern publics external to an organ-
5 isation, one of the most important groups of stakeholders is a company’s
6 employees. Organisational rhetoric often quotes the fact that ‘our people are
7 our most important resource’, but the reality of whether this resource is cared for is
8 patchy. New initiatives like Investors in People1 enable companies to focus on their
9 workforce, but even these are sometimes followed in a mechanistic way. Companies
10 can survive and indeed prosper without taking the needs of their workforce into account.
11 However, it is generally agreed that good external relations and policies should have
12 a solid foundation on good internal communications, that an informed workforce is
13 more likely to be motivated to work productively, and that this reinforces the com-
14 pany’s licence to operate in its community (see also Chapter 12), where a substantial
15 number of employees are likely to live.
16
Good internal communications may not just be about differentiating your company
11117 in terms of consumer branding. Cowlett (1999b) quotes a survey of 275 analysts and
18 portfolio managers by Ernst & Young in 1998 which found that investors base their
19 decision to buy or sell stock in a company on non-financial as well as financial perfor-
20 mance. ‘Investors’ perceptions of improvements in areas such as corporate strategy,
21 innovation and the ability to attract and retain talented people can have a major impact
22 on the share price.’ A study by the Journal of Marketing stated that 68 per cent of
23 customers defect from an organisation because of staff attitudes or indifference (Cowlett
24 1999b). Conversely, another survey found that 41 per cent of customers said they were
25 most likely to buy a company’s products or services again if staff treated them well,
26 regardless of advertising, branding or promotional activity (MORI/MCA 1999). These
27 findings emphasise the importance not only of employees’ understanding the company
28 and their role within it, but also of their actual commitment to the company objectives.
29
30 President of the International Association of Business Communicators (IABC) UK
31 David Hammond is positive that organisations have learnt this lesson. Speaking at the
32 IABC conference in Dublin (21 November 1999) he announced the results of an IABC
33 survey which show that 51 per cent of organisations have well-defined communication
34 strategies and that 52 per cent of senior managers support the importance of a strong
35 communications programme to achieve business goals. In addition, 71 per cent of senior
36 managers actively integrate communication into their business strategy.
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1 Treating people – not money, machines or minds – as the natural resource may be
2 the key to it all . . . No organisational relationships are as important as those with
3 employees at all levels.
4
5 (Cutlip et al. 1985: 311)
6
7 Employees are not an homogeneous stakeholder group, but consist of workers, manage-
8 ment and board, who perform different functions within the organisation, such as produc-
9 tion, administration, and services. Unions may negotiate on behalf of different groups
10 of employees.
11
12 Communication operates in many ways within an organisation, flowing downwards
13 from senior directors and management to workers, upwards from the shop floor, and
14 between groups and individuals. Some routes may work well, others may be blocked.
15 How they work is normally a product of the culture of the organisation, whether it
16 involves employees or not. When communication doesn’t work, the grapevine steps in
11117 to fill the gap. The grapevine, made up of rumour and gossip, is not controlled or
18 controllable. It is always in existence, but its effects can be moderated if communica-
19 tion flows are working well. Problems may arise if the grapevine is the only form of
20 communication, or is seen as more reliable or important than information sent by
21 management.
22
23 The goals of employee communication
24
25 Cutlip et al. (1985: 315) propose that ‘The goals of employee communication are to
26 identify, establish and maintain mutually beneficial relationships between the organisa-
27 tion and the employees on whom its success or failure depends.’ They identify (p. 317)
28 four stages of employment where effective communications are vital:
29
30 1 The start – attracting and inducting new employees.
31
32 2 The work – where instruction, news and job related information should be dissem-
33 inated.
34
35 3 The rewards and recognition – promotions, special events, awards.
36
37 4 The termination – breakdown of equipment, layoffs, dismissals.
38
39 Communication should work towards achieving the organisation’s objectives. Employee
40 awareness of operations, problems, goals and developments will increase their effec-
41 tiveness as ambassadors, both on and off the job. Asking for input to improve how
42 things are done will encourage them to participate in the organisation.
43
44 Management should demonstrate a real interest in the employees’ concerns, for
45 example by organising attitude surveys, suggestion schemes and stimulating the upward
46 flow of communication. There must be a response to this information, so that employees
47 feel that their opinions have been taken into account. If this does not happen, they may
48 be more dissatisfied than before, as their expectations of change will have been raised.
49 Involving employees in decision-making could lead to fewer stoppages and increased
1150 efficiency. Good internal relations impacts on the bottom line. Top management must
5111 support schemes to involve employees and take their opinions on board, or else such
schemes will be seen as mere gimmicks and will be abandoned. ‘The most common
failing in employee communication is that it is too busy selling a management view
downward. It neglects to stimulate an equivalent upward flow’ (Cutlip et al. 1985: 329).

Internal communications 133

1111 The four eras of employee communication
2
3 Grunig and Hunt link the ‘four eras’ of employee communication to their four models
4 of public relations (see Chapter 1). In 1964, C.J. Dover described the first three:
5
6 1 The era of entertaining employees (likened to press agentry) in the 1940s, to convince
7 them that the organisation was a good place to work. This kind of communication
8 may have given rise to Townsend’s view that ‘reading an employee communication
9 is like going down in warm maple syrup for the third time’ (quoted in Grunig and
10 Hunt 1984: 240–1).
11
12 2 The era of informing employees (like the public information model) in the 1950s.
13
14 3 The era of persuasion in the 1960s (two-way asymmetric).
15
16 To these, Grunig and Hunt (1984) added a fourth:

11117 4 The era of open communication (two-way symmetric).
18
19 Like the four models of PR, the four eras are not mutually exclusive, as all four kinds
20 of employee communications are still carried out by companies today.
21
22 How management shapes communication
23
24 Grunig and Hunt (1984) summarise four kinds of management theory and show how
25 the structure and environment of an organisation affects employee communications.
26 Structured organisations centralise decision-making at the top, have formal roles and
27 rules, and are likely to operate in a static environment. Machine theory, set out by Katz
28 and Kahn, describes a group of theories which ‘treat the organisation as a machine
29 whose control and co-ordination can be engineered’ (Grunig and Hunt 1984: 240–1).
30 Employees have little freedom, tasks are subdivided into simple parts and roles are
31 standardised. Communication in this arena is only necessary to instruct employees how
32 to complete their task, is downwards from management and is mainly in written format,
33 providing information which reinforces management’s control. Management in this kind
34 of company emphasises downward communication and discourages horizontal commu-
35 nication between groups of employees.
36
37 Studies in the late 1920s and early 1930s suggested that employees were more produc-
38 tive if management paid attention to them. Chester Barnard, president of the New Jersey
39 Bell Telephone Company, published a book stating that ‘the first function of the exec-
40 utive is to establish an effective communication system’ (Grunig and Hunt 1984: 240–1).
41 Communication was seen as something to make people feel good rather than to help
42 them do their jobs. This gave rise to human relations theory, which encouraged the
43 warm maple syrup kind of publication referred to above, where management policies
44 are always presented in a positive, unquestioning fashion, and the emphasis is on social
45 events. Employee news concerns those who are ‘hatched, matched, dispatched’ – new
46 babies, marriages and retirements.
47
48 Barnard believed that informed workers would be more willing to co-operate with
49 management. Instructions were replaced with expressive communication, but the down-
ward flow of information was still emphasised. Suggestion boxes, company social events
11150 and visits by management to work areas were merely superficial gimmicks rather than
5111 genuine attempts at upward communication.

134 The Public Relations Handbook

1 The next two areas of theory that Grunig and Hunt examined are related to less struc-
2 tured organisations, operating in a dynamic environment. As well as trying to control
3 their environment, they adapt to it. They must be open and flexible to be able to cope,
4 and receptive to innovation. Decision-making is decentralised.
5
6 Human resources theory developed from human relations theory, but advocated actual
7 involvement rather than just lip service to it. The starting point was Maslow’s hier-
8 archy of needs, which stated that human beings first pay attention to basic needs such
9 as food, shelter and security, but once these needs are met, they look for self-esteem
10 and self-actualisation. Other theorists who built on this include McGregor, Likert,
11 Herzberg and Black and Mouton, where ‘open communication with employees about
12 organisational decisions that affect their jobs makes up an essential part of the desir-
13 able management theory’ (Grunig and Hunt 1984: 240–1). Communication flows
14 upwards and downwards, as well as between groups. These theories state that employees
15 will work best in a less structured environment with an open, symmetric communica-
16 tion system.
11117
18 Finally, systems theory maintains that no one structure will be appropriate for all
19 organisations, in contrast to the previous three theories which were ‘all or none’ the-
20 ories. Some organisations within a static environment will be centralised, with a commu-
21 nication system which mixes both instructions and expressive communications,
22 emphasising downward flow from management to workers. Less educated and
23 specialised workers will be most satisfied with this structure, but it would not work for
24 professional employees. They would be more satisfied in an organisation within a
25 dynamic environment with open and complex communication flows. Thus different
26 organisations will choose different models of employee communication, depending on
27 their environments and organisational goals.
28
29 Systems theories have further developed, with several thinkers drawing on different
30 fields of research. Gregory (2000) reviewed these developments, beginning with
31 Buckley, who based his adaptive systems model on cybernetic research, emphasising
32 the importance of feedback to initiate change. In this model, organisations change over
33 time, and interact with their environment to do so. Maturana and Varela drew on biology
34 to argue that the environment was part of the organsation. Callon and Latour devel-
35 oped actor–network theory (ANT) which suggested that a person was one actor in a
36 network which included nature and machines, and that each actor had equal impor-
37 tance. Networks were rarely stable, and each actor would have a different degree of
38 influence at different times. Morgan used Bohm’s chaos theory to define management’s
39 role as shaping and creating contexts ‘in which appropriate forms of self-organisation
40 can occur’ (Gregory 2000: 272). Whilst order cannot be forcefully imposed on an ever-
41 changing system, equilibrium will always eventually emerge. Gregory suggests that
42 these theories, together with the rapid change in society brought about by the internet
43 (discussed later in this chapter and in Chapters 18 and 19), mean that public relations
44 practitioners will not only have to be technically competent, but will also require analysis
45 and awareness of the environmental context of organisations in order to devise success
46 programmes of communication.
47
48 Internal communication and company
49 objectives
1150
5111 ‘Truly successful internal communications turn organisations from machines into intel-
ligent organisms which learn and grow’, according to Dawn James, the director in

Internal communications 135

1111 charge of Shandwick International’s Change Management and Internal Communications
2 practice.2
3
4 Quirke (1995: 71, 75) believes that ‘The flow of ideas, information and knowledge
5 around the organisation [is] crucial to success. The role of communication as the process
6 by which this flow is achieved is central to the management of the organisation.’ He
7 continues,
8
9 A business can only achieve its best when everyone’s energies are pointed in the
10 same direction and are not at cross purposes. Employees need to have a clear picture
11 of the overall direction and ambitions of the company [and] a clear sense of where
12 he or she fits in and how [they] contribute to the company’s goals.
13
14 Quirke sees this need for change reflected in the shift from a limited number of internal
15 communications techniques, such as noticeboards, memos and company newsletters, to
16 more interactive media such as meetings, forums, video conferences and email. Like
Grunig and Hunt, he warns that different communication strategies are needed for
11117 different kinds of organisation. He links the choice of strategy to three categories (see
18 Tracey and Wiersema, quoted in Quirke 1995: 79).
19
20 Organisations that concentrate on operational efficiency focus on providing reliable
21 products at competitive prices, and on keeping overheads down. Communication
22 here resembles the machine theory model, creating greater understanding of roles and
23 priorities.
24
25 Other companies may place more emphasis on closeness to the customer. Companies
26 segment their markets and then match products more specifically. They want to build
27 long-term customer loyalty. Communication is more flexible, and feeds customer feed-
28 back into the organisation. Upward communication is encouraged, and workers
29 make decisions to solve problems, more along the lines of the human resources theory
30 model.
31
32 The third kind of organisation focuses on product leadership, and must innovate
33 to compete. Communication flows become yet more complex, both from outside and
34 from within the organisation, involving feedback and brainstorming sessions across
35 departments.
36
37 Internal communication and company
38 development
39
40 Quirke also suggests that internal communication depends on the stage of development
41 of a company. When first starting up, few people may be involved and communication
42 takes place informally and frequently. As the company grows, employing more people,
43 communication starts to become more functional and formal. This may eventually lead
44 to devolving responsibility to senior division managers and communication will become
45 more fragmented, concentrating on the division or unit rather than the company as a
46 whole. At this point, central management may step in to co-ordinate communication to
47 ensure all employees are aware of corporate messages. The danger here is for bureau-
48 cratic overload and a lack of responsiveness, and the grapevine may become more
49 important. Managers start to form networks to cope with the complex organisation,
bringing together people from across functions.
11150
5111 Quirke then moves on to the formation of a communication strategy, looking at what
is needed from employees at each stage of the development cycle. Beginning with

136 The Public Relations Handbook

1 awareness, he suggests using noticeboards, memos, annual reports for employees and
2 email. Communication will be essentially one way, with little interaction or feedback.
3 Evaluation would be concerned with whether employees received or saw the message.
4
5 If understanding is needed, more feedback and information tailored to a specific
6 group must be added. Messages will be complemented with rationales, and feedback
7 will be used to refine communication. Quirke suggests the use of roadshows, video
8 conferencing and presentations to groups, enabling some interaction and participation.
9
10 Further interaction will be needed if employees’ support is sought. As well as under-
11 standing, acceptance is necessary. The focus shifts from education, and methods could
12 include business forums and training events.
13
14 The next step on Quirke’s communication escalator is involvement, requiring dialogue
15 rather than one-way communication. Team meetings could be used to disseminate
16 management thinking, with cross-functional teams set up to solve issues raised.
11117 Feedback forums would be set up to inform managers of difficult issues which they
18 need to resolve. Finally, if commitment to a new strategy is needed, employees must
19 feel a sense of ownership and involvement in developing that strategy. Interaction, team
20 problem-solving sessions, forums and talkback sessions could work here. Management
21 must demonstrate willingness to listen and accept feedback without retribution. Each
22 step on the escalator builds on the one before, and ‘the basics [must be] in place before
23 pursuing innovative technologies or radical sharing of views and opinions’.
24
25 Communication principles
26
27 Stone (1995) sets out several principles for communicating with staff. The primary
28 audience may not necessarily be the entire workforce, but the opinion leaders and
29 formers. Each person in this primary audience should feel that they are being person-
30 ally addressed. Next, the primary audience should understand what they are being asked
31 to do as a result of the communication. Whilst concentrating on ensuring information
32 gets to the primary audience, Stone points out that employees have family and friends,
33 some of whom are influencers within the local community. He stresses the need for
34 clarity in language, keeping the gap between information and action as short as possible,
35 and measuring and evaluating the effects of communication. Stone concludes by
36 advising that communication needs to be continuous, so that staff do not feel that
37 management only informs them when there is bad news, a crisis, or when unpopular
38 work practices are to be introduced.
39
40 Hendrix (1995) starts by advocating research into an organisation’s reputation with
41 its employees and whether existing forms of communication are effective. A survey of
42 employee attitudes may reveal issues such as low morale and frustration with policies
43 that could inform the objectives for the programme. He sets out a variety of impact
44 objectives, such as:
45
46 • to increase employee knowledge of organisational activities and policies
47
48 • to enhance favourable employee attitudes towards the organisation
49
1150 • to receive more employee feedback.
5111
Output objectives could be:

• to recognise employee accomplishments in employee communications

• to distribute communications on a weekly basis

Internal communications 137

1111 • to schedule interpersonal communication between management and a specific em-
2 ployee group each month.
3
4 Once objectives have been set, appropriate techniques can be selected, from notice
5 boards, displays, telephone hotlines, payslip inserts, internal television, videos, meet-
6 ings, teleconferences, newsletters, direct mail, leaflets and email. The final part of the
7 programme involves evaluating the success of the programme in order to adjust it and
8 learn for the future.
9
10 The importance of understanding culture
11
12 The context of internal communications is discussed by Puchan, Pieczka and L’Etang
13 (1997). They set internal communications within a discussion of the nature of organi-
14 sations, based on the work of Gareth Morgan who developed metaphors for different
15 views of a organisation ‘as a machine, as an organism, as a brain, as a prison’ (Hart
16 1995). They go on to look at structure and culture, and how that can affect the role
and scope of public relations.
11117
18 ‘Research shows that for all the millions spent on internal communications over the
19 past 10 years, employee satisfaction has barely improved.’ Quirke (1995) says in order
20 to achieve effective communications companies must understand how their employees
21 listen to the messages they are sending. In a reference to basic communication theory,
22 Quirke states that employees decode the information they receive, and that organisa-
23 tional culture refracts communication, obscuring the message.
24
25 Thomson states (in Hart 1995), ‘companies need to manage the emotion, feeling and
26 beliefs that motivate people to apply knowledge constructively’. Internal communica-
27 tions specialists MCA commissioned MORI to conduct a survey of 350 staff across
28 companies employing more than 1,000 people, which revealed that only 35 per cent of
29 respondents would strongly agree that they would recommend their company to others.
30 Half said that they understood organisational goals, but only a quarter said they were
31 committed to giving their best to help the company succeed. Harkness feels that ‘The
32 reason internal communications campaigns often fail is because at the research stage
33 people don’t ask what the emotional hooks are for people within an organisation’ (quoted
34 in Cowlett 1999b). Whilst awareness and understanding have been achieved, commit-
35 ment has not. A survey carried out by MORI at the end of 1998 found that only 11
36 per cent of all workers in the UK trusted and believed what directors of their company
37 said (Pawinska 1999).
38
39 Christine Daymon (2000) feels that disregarding the effects of culture may be why
40 ‘communications strategies often lead to misunderstandings and even resistance’. She
41 argues that all communication takes place within a cultural context which acts as a filter.
42 Most of the theories examined above stress control of communication as the answer,
43 whether employees are involved or not. Daymon suggests that a wider perspective is
44 needed. She also suggests that many management theorists ignore the fact that ‘culture
45 might emerge from other groups besides management or from an amalgam of influences
46 and experiences’. She advocates the use of different perspectives in devising communi-
47 cations strategies. Using the example of a new commercial television company, she
48 shows how the messages given by management about efficiency and cost minimisation
49 were interpreted by employees as changing the company’s focus from making excellent
programmes to skimping on expenditure. All communications were then viewed through
11150 this cultural filter, with the result that communications led to organisational conflict rather
5111

138 The Public Relations Handbook

1 than harmony. To avoid this problem, attitudes and beliefs of different groups within
2 the organisation must be researched: ‘With a better understanding of the complexity of
3 organisational communication . . . managers may be better equipped to deal with it.’
4
5 Internal communication in times of change
6
7 Internal communication is particularly important in times of change. Research is stressed
8 as the first step by James Harkness of internal communications and change manage-
9 ment specialists Banner McBride (Harkness 1999). He shows how communication must
10 be integrated into each stage of the change process, emphasising both giving facts and
11 listening to concerns and reactions to the change (Figure 11.1). The first step is a stock-
12 take of the situation. Interviews with managers ascertain the key messages, which are
13 then used with discussion groups of employees. This also gives employees the chance
14 to air their opinions, complaints and suggestions. Building on issues raised here, a ques-
15 tionnaire might be devised to further encourage employee involvement. Focus groups
16 and one-to-one interviews could be conducted with a range of people. This process can
11117 also inform the language which is used for different groups, and indicate how different
18 groups like to receive information. In an exercise for GNER, it was found that older
19 people preferred to receive information in written form, but younger staff preferred to
20 hear news face-to-face.
21
22 The change curve and communication
23
24 SATISFACTION; COMMITMENT/
25 COMPLACENCY EXCITEMENT
26
27 DENIAL/ ENTHUSIASM/
28 REJECTION HOPE
29
30 ANGER/ ACCEPTANCE/
31 RESISTANCE CURIOSITY
32
33 IMPLEMENTATION POST-IMPLEMENTATION
34
35 • Convey urgency • Listen • Listen • Restate big • Involve • Feedback success
36 • Give facts • Show • Demonstrate • Inspire
37 • Provide evidence picture • Celebrate • Create champions
38 • Convey big picture concern concern
39 • Restate • Restate facts • Communicate wins
40 • Convey
41 facts vision • Inspire
42 commitment
43 • Ask for help
44
45 Figure 11.1 The change curve and communication
46
47 Banner McBride has taken the classic model of the change curve and adapted it to use in an internal communication
48 setting. This diagram demonstrates how internal communication strategy can be shaped to support people as they
49 move through the various stages on the change curve.
1150
5111 Source: James Harkness (1999), Banner McBride. Used with permission

Internal communications 139

1111 Changing work patterns
2
3 Changes in patterns of work have and will continue to impact on how companies
4 communicate with their staff. Working from home is becoming more common on all
5 levels as technology advances. Fax machines, laptop computers, modems and mobile
6 phones increase the flexibility and fragmentation of the workforce. ‘Hot-desking’ has
7 appeared, where staff use remote electronic media to stay in touch, and use any desk
8 available when they come into the head office.
9
10 One of the most important developments in the field of internal communications is
11 the rise of the intranet. This is a system of making information available to all employees
12 or members of an organisation on an internal website, accessible via a PC. It can be a
13 dramatic change to the culture of a multinational company, as not only can all employees
14 communicate internally with each other via email, but they can also receive informa-
15 tion simultaneously, from head office. A discussion panel set up by the International
16 Association of Business Communicators (IABC) on their website produced several inter-
esting comments, such as ‘It’s provided a major cultural revolution in the way we work,
11117 think and communicate. It’s turned a control culture into an empowered culture. It’s
18 turned our doers into thinkers.’3 Bearing in mind the discussion of management theory
19 earlier in the chapter, it can be seen that organisations introducing such a change in
20 communication need to be aware of the ramifications. Other comments include ‘With
21 70,000 people around the world, our intranet has truly allowed a global community to
22 develop’; ‘It fosters collaboration and the carrying out of the organisation’s business
23 strategy. It should also do it in a way that’s going to save resources.’
24
25 Challenges and issues in creating an intranet are many. Information must be co-
26 ordinated and managed so that it can be accessed quickly. For an effective intranet,
27 employee buy-in is also important, so consultation must take place before set up. Training
28 in how to communicate may also be necessary, to avoid long-winded reports tying up
29 the system. Technical ability of employees must be addressed, as must access to PCs.
30 The technology is immediate, so employees expect anything on their screens to be up
31 to date and communication must constantly be updated. Responsibility for updating and
32 entering information must be clear, so that conflicting information is not posted.
33
34 The creation of a newsgroup is a controversial and sensitive issue, and several court
35 cases in the USA have used internal emails to prove their cases. However, giving
36 employees the ability to discuss current issues which affect the organisation can also
37 be valuable and engenders a sense of involvement. Information overload must be
38 avoided, so that the key messages get through. Access to the internet and intranet also
39 raises fears that employees may abuse the system, and spend longer ‘surfing’ than actu-
40 ally doing their job.
41
42 The implications for the public relations function within the organisation are clear:
43 ‘Instead of running a small department of internal communicators, I suddenly found I
44 had every employee in the company as a communicator. As the intranet has mobilised
45 our workforce, I am now responsible for information flow architecture.’ Other com-
46 panies may find that staff functions change, to manage the site and a network of corre-
47 spondents who manage their own sites within the intranet. Obviously the amount of
48 printed information will decrease, although those who used to contribute to and produce
49 internal publications may simply input their information in a new way. The PR func-
tion will also need to work in partnership with the human resources and information
11150 technology departments to ensure that the intranet is effective for all employees.
5111
Future developments will include the refinement of knowledge management so that
information can be increasingly personalised. Forms of the intranet may be expanded