It is true that communications is my livelihood, and that I’ve made an entire career out of helping organizations communicate. The term “communications” covers a lot of things, so let me be more specific: I help organizations talk about who they are and what they do and why it matters. I help organizations share stories about the problem they’re seeking to solve or the solutions or help they’re trying to provide. Sometimes, I help different parts of an organization or a field connect to one another with shared messaging, strategies, stories, etc.
If one makes a career out of strategic communications, one can often be prone to defaulting to a position that more communications is better. This is because many organizations are under-resourced when it comes to communications functions, especially in the social sector—you often find one or two people who are responsible for doing everything, from answering media queries to maintaining the organization’s website. I’ve written about the perils of doing this before, but as you can imagine, one of the consequences of under-resourcing is that people get starved for communications—when prospective clients want to hire me, they say things like, “We are doing such great work! We are learning such cool things! But we have no capacity to talk about or share what we learned!”
So I get how the more-ish nature of communications comes in. (I will never forget the first time that someone used the term “more-ish” in reference to a dessert, and I kept on hearing “Moorish,” and was thoroughly confused because the dessert was definitely not Moorish in origin.) However, I think that what people don’t often talk about are the times when less communication is the better option, for very good reasons. Here are two examples I’m thinking of where less was actually the better way to go.
One: When I was the vice president of communications for Earthjustice—a truly great organization, dedicated to highly skilled, fierce legal representation to protect people and the planet from environmental harm, injustice, and catastrophe—we were given the opportunity to represent the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe in a lawsuit involving a massive crude oil pipeline that would cross tribal lands, sensitive wildlife habitats, and a critical waterway. The details of the lawsuit are well-explained here, and to be clear: since I was the vice president at that time, I take no credit for handling the communications strategy around our involvement in this case. There were several brilliant strategists on the team who were amazing at handling media inquiries and putting together explanatory materials and op-eds explaining why the pipeline represented such a grave injustice towards the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe.
I did, however, have to initially field many heated questions from colleagues about why we weren’t doing more—more emails, more media outreach, and more active fundraising based on our legal work in the case. The simple reason was this: the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe had asked us not to. They made it clear that we were there to legally represent them in this matter and not to tell them what to say or how to say it. Over time, as trust was built between the lawyers and the tribal representatives, my comms colleagues were allowed to a) develop an explainer about the facts and particulars of the case and b) provide assistance behind the scenes about messaging and media relations. But we didn’t go much beyond that—at least, not while I was there.
Therefore, we ended up communicating less rather than more because we needed to build trust with a group who had already suffered enough harm at the hands of others. Was this a worthwhile reason? In my opinion, absolutely. And to this day, I retain a great admiration and respect for my former communications colleagues there, who all seemed to instinctively understand how much trust-building was a fundamental part of the job—that you couldn’t just appropriate people’s stories without first knowing them and building a relationship with them.
However, communicating less was not always easy: at the time, other environmental organizations that shall remain unnamed were sending out multiple fundraising emails about the case, which was extremely high-profile and had gotten many people’s attention, including well-known celebrities. So even though these other organizations had absolutely no involvement in the legal case, they were still communicating heavily about it as a means to call attention to the important environmental work they were doing. We had to sit and watch all of this go by, and in other circumstances, I’ve had bosses come to me and say, “You know, your lunch is getting eaten,” in reference to another organization’s furiously fast-paced communications efforts that were far eclipsing the efforts I was leading at the time. Communications is, in many ways, a competitive sport. But in this case, less communications was absolutely the right thing to do.
Second example: I have found myself in recent months admiring the minimal communications approach of a certain President Joe Biden. And I know that I may be the outlier on this, because not a day goes by that I don’t see a headline about how such-and-such an activist group is frustrated by Biden’s refusal to comment on the hot topics of the day, like, say, the billions of legal proceedings against one former POTUS that, again, like the environmental organizations I just talked about, shall remain unnamed. I’m aware that Biden’s silence on many topics does not help the problematic issue of his extremely advanced years—and I, too, quake a little bit inside whenever I get a whiff of how elderly he appears. It is not so much that I think he can’t do the job or that he’s going to die tomorrow—it’s more that I understand perfectly well how his age and appearance are being perceived by others. This reminds me of the times when I’ve advised top executives that they have to dress professionally and sharply for on-camera appearances—I’m not trying to make you feel bad about your style or appearance, but I’m telling you, you kind of have to look the part so people will be less distracted by your messy clothes, so they might actually listen to the good things you have to say.
But despite the age concerns, and even though I will never love Biden the way I loved the Obamas, and even though I wish in frustration that Americans would quit thinking only white men can lead, I am…impressed by Biden’s accomplishments. He has done a shitload of good things for the country and to say that he inherited a mess of an Administration would be an understatement. And because I know something about the good things he’s done, his less-is-more-communications style is, to me, reading as an admirable penchant for avoiding drama and mudslinging. I’ve always had a soft spot for people who just keep their heads down and get the job done and I kinda feel that’s what Biden is doing.
And then there’s this final point: I like to think that Biden is surrounded by smart communications advisors who understand that Biden is actually…not that great a communicator. He’s been known to fumble his words, many times, and then there’s the age thing (his voice is getting quavery). So if you know your boss is not the most savvy of communicators, does it not make sense to try a less is more approach? To me, it does. And, it has the effect of making the rare moments when you do communicate matter even more. For example: I am utterly delighted by the Biden team’s appropriation of the Marjorie Greene (vomit emoji) sound bite when she meant to excoriate Biden on his massive infrastructure investments and instead it ended up sounding like praise.
And in any event, it’s smart to know what you’re not good at, and to take a minimalist or abstention approach to those things. You don’t see me out there playing basketball, do you? Or putting together Excel spreadsheets? (I could go on and on about the things I’m not good at, but you get the point.)
Minna Jung Consulting 