What does a canary in a coal mine have to do with communications? It highlights a pernicious problem communication pros deal with: Communication and communicators often aren’t given the respect and position they deserve.
In December of 1986, a decades-old tradition ceased. Since the early 1900s, canaries had joined men in their descent into the earth to mine ore. The canary’s claim to it’s fleeting fame lay in its ability to inhale and use a greater quantity of oxygen than other easily transported animals. Canaries were small and light, easily transported in the tight confines of mines. Because of their heavy use of oxygen, they showed immediate effects to humanly undetectable changes in oxygen levels. They were effective air monitors. They were heavily used in British, Canadian and American mines until a more reliable, mechanical method of air monitoring could be implemented. Countless miners were protected by these living breathalyzers.
By combining portability, economy and prevalence, canaries were a ready solution to the real challenge of keeping miners safe. Mine owners were more than happy to invest in a few birds to keep the ore flowing. Mine workers appreciated the perky little critters, affectionately adopting them and whistling along with them. Early regulators appreciated their effectiveness in saving lives. Accountants appreciated their cost-effectiveness. Everyone was happy, and had they been capable of reason, canaries themselves would probably have appreciated the soft life of being an air monitor more than the dubious freedom of being prey to virtually every carnivore.
Despite their effectiveness, in the mining industries’ hierarchy of needs, canaries were likely near the bottom. That is why they’re in the title of this book. Canaries saved lives. They protected valuable personnel. They ensured production. They were more publicly acceptable than rats. They were in every way beneficial to the mining process, the mining industry and the mining profession. They just weren’t highly regarded. Nobody stayed awake at night trying to figure out how to save the canary. Nobody increased their budget to buy them better cages. They were used without much respect for the incredible benefit they brought.
Communicators are the canaries of response communication.
We tend to be lightly regarded, under-resourced and taken for granted. Yet in an actual response, communicators can save lives, protect personnel, ensure effectiveness of response actions, and protect both human and industrial capital. Why isn’t this recognized? We’ll talk about this more in the future, but here are some key reasons:
- We don’t measure well. Our profession seems to be ‘lightweight’, not given the respect of engineering, law, accounting, EMS and other response areas. Part of this is self-inflicted and we will talk about it later. Much if it is because nobody understands what we do.
- We don’t explain well. Other professions are well defined in the public eye. For better or worse, we all have an image of what people in other professions do: Lawyers, Engineers, Accountants, or Fire fighters – all carry clear imagery in the public eye – and in each other’s. Communicators don’t. The best we get is ‘flack’ or ‘hack’, maybe ‘spin doctor’. What is the short definition of a communicator that everyone can understand?
- We don’t display well. When we do the work we do, other people can’t see the results. Operators lay boom and everyone can see it. SCAT teams walk up and down the beaches and bring back pictures, measurements and plans. Finance hands people forms, stamps things and pays the bills. Communicators? Communicators… talk and type. Have you ever seen the Joint Information Center featured in a response documentary or report? Images of people typing and talking on phones aren’t compelling. We deal with this need for visual drama in setting up photo ops – where do you let media take pictures or make videos? Not in the JIC.
- We don’t quantify well. Planners record changes in quantities. Operators talk about things people see. Unified Command focuses on boats, boom, bodies and birds. Communicators talk about appearances, impressions, ‘opinion trends’, ‘sentiment analysis’, ‘hit counts’.
So if we’re not seen as important. If people can’t readily comprehend what we do, our output can’t be seen and we can’t provide quantifiable evidence of our mystery work, why should we be surprised that we’re often not seen as crucial to a response? We easily become the dispensable, overlooked and under-appreciated eye candy that ‘real’ responders tolerate instead of respect.
Nothing could be less true.
Communication is actually the most important part of any public-touching activity. Every day, every organization must be sure their stakeholders understand and appreciate what they do. Your product can’t be made if people don’t accept your facilities. Your product can’t be sold if people don’t understand its benefits. Your people can’t be proud if they don’t know what they’re making and your public can’t invest if they don’t see the potential return for their support.
In a response, people and equipment are the facilities; response objectives and success are the benefits; responders are the people and a cooperating public is the investor in the response efforts. The success of any response effort is defined by what affected stakeholders see and understand. In today’s world of drones and cellphone cameras, they will likely be able to see a lot without help from communicators, but they likely will not understand much without the help of effective communication.
Communication efforts will either provide a benefit or a cost to a response. Failure to effectively communicate will increase the response cost and reduce response benefits. Effective communication will decrease the response cost and increase the response benefits.
It’s time to replace the image of the canary with the vision of the modern communicator!
Interested in more information? Contact me!