By Tony Samson
THE comfort of routine, with its accompanying predictability, is embraced by old people who need it to put hand-rails on their uncalendared lives. It is also the refuge of organizations that are hit by a crisis.
The recent airport passenger congestion, arising from a stalled airplane blocking the runway, needed to be untangled amid expletives of frustration from the crowded terminal. The stranded passengers had to be rebooked, the runway cleared, and flights rescheduled in an orderly manner before the airport authorities could declare after a few days that it was back to “business as usual.” This phrase only meant that the manageable level of chaos one had been used to was now restored.
A crisis is considered defused only when routine is restored and the organization is back on its feet to deliver its products and services as before.
Disruptions of all sorts derail the ordinary course of business. They include power outages, elevator repairs, floods, labor strikes and pickets, and supply chain interruptions that result in a shortage of chickens. These glitches throw off the business routine and require soothing assurances from management on the expected return to normalcy, even giving a timeline (power will be restored by tomorrow morning). And then, it’s back to business as usual.
Even planned inconveniences like lobby renovations or rerouting of traffic due to the laying of new water pipes need to project how long the interruption will last. Still, even a reduced state of service needs to be reassuring 鈥 we are still open. Some deterioration of offerings is expected. There is no need to state the obvious 鈥 chicken will not be on the menu today.
In situations where a crisis is not yet known to the public, the illusion of normalcy is even more critical to maintain, like a placid duck floating above the water with its feet frantically paddling underneath.
This story of projecting a state of normalcy in a crisis is explored by the acclaimed Japanese director, Akira Kurosawa in his classic film Kagemusha. A petty criminal look-alike is recruited by the Shogun to be his political decoy or double. When the lord is wounded in battle and eventually dies, the double assumes his identity with the support of the late lord’s inner circle. In staged events, the double displays the acquired mannerisms to keep the illusion going. The subterfuge wards off attacks by rival clans as the clan deprived of its leader gathers strength.
The use of a political decoy, such as the one employed by the Takeda Clan in the Kurosawa movie, has its risks. Attempts at normalcy while covering up a crisis can be eroded by a single mistake, in this case, the impostor falling off the Shogun’s horse in public view.
Such hidden crises like undisclosed health problems of leaders, unfinished projects, or an investment gone bad involve a big cast of characters that cannot all be kept quiet. Companies with big problems can choose to hide them from public knowledge or even keep them from their investors, hoping to somehow address them quietly. A strategy of non-disclosure, even when the magnitude of the problem is a survival issue, can seem like the only viable option. Public knowledge with the hype from media can have disastrous consequences for a company.
The attempt at a business-as-usual posture with a crisis under wraps leads to a conspiracy by insiders. The yet undiscovered crisis becomes a shared secret of those in the know, keeping all the rest in the dark.
Like the meteors that wiped out the dinosaurs that lived for a hundred million years (give or take a few centuries), crisis can wipe out a corporate species. Remember the fate of Nokia which in 2007 was so dominant with 70% of the mobile phone market, then bankrupt in 2012. It bet too much on the network business and just missed out on the touch-screen technology. Its modest resurrection is not likely to regain its lost glory.
Can a strategy that ignores a crisis lead to extinction? When the predicament can no longer be hidden, the brown matter hits the overhead propeller. After the walls and floors are scrubbed clean, the company may yet survive, with a sign on the door 鈥 “under new management.” After a while, it may yet declare that, yes, it’s business as usual.
Tony Samson is Chairman and CEO, TOUCH xda
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