Around the time John Hill was helping the tobacco companies calm waters stirred up by research into the health dangers of smoking, a young public relations guy in Chicago named Dan Edelman was flying multiple sets of identical twin sisters around the country.
Freshly coifed and made up, the twins were smiling embodiments of a long-running ad campaign challenging readers to determine “Which twin had the Toni?” One twin had had a “permanent” wave set in her hair by a professional hairdresser; the other did it at home, using only the sponsor’s $2 “Toni Home Permanent” kit. Few could tell the difference.
Dan Edelman (1920–2013) was the Toni Home Permanent company’s public relations director when he came up with the idea of taking the twins off the pages of the company’s ads and sending them on a cross-country road show to 72 cities. Broadcast and print media ate it up. And when an overly enthusiastic local health official in Tulsa, Oklahoma, tried to jail one of the twins for practicing cosmetology without a license, Edelman doubled down and made sure the Associated Press had the story. The twins were news across the country.
The Toni Twins road show, which many consider the first modern “media tour,” was such a successful stunt that within just a few years, Edelman moved down the hall from the company’s headquarters in the Chicago Merchandise Mart and opened his own shop, with Toni as his first client. In short order, he was running media tours and otherwise ginning up publicity on behalf of brands like Sara Lee, Morris the Cat, and the Butterball Turkey Hot Line, as well as for causes such as seat-belt laws and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall.1 “Mr. Edelman didn’t invent the publicity stunt but cultivated all sorts of new possibilities for it at the dawn of the TV age,” one trade publication wrote. Plus, “He was a pioneer of integrating public relations into marketing campaigns to sell products.”2
Richard Edelman, CEO
Edelman expanded his firm in the 1960s and 1970s, opening offices across the United States and in major international cities. He turned the CEO position over to his son, Richard, in 1996, but stayed active in the firm until his death at the age of 93 in 2013. By then, the company had developed expertise in every facet of public relations, from product publicity, which was its original bread and butter, to the relatively new fields of crisis management, litigation public relations, and public affairs.
With his father’s support, Richard steadily expanded the company’s capabilities even further, attracting new talent and developing deep social media and research capabilities. Today, Edelman is the world’s largest public relations firm, with 66 offices and more than 5,000 employees worldwide. Its clients number some of the largest and most prominent companies in the world, including Microsoft, Walmart, Pepsico, General Electric, Unilever, Samsung, and dozens of others.
Of course, running such a far-flung enterprise with so many clients and with fingers in so many specialties is fraught with challenges, sometimes bumping up against ethical boundaries. Just such as issue popped up in an Edelman inbox in late 2014.
A Washington, DC, public interest group called “Investigating Climate Change” partnered with the UK’s Guardian newspaper to survey large public relations firms on their views regarding climate change. When Edelman’s U.S. region president received the survey, he forwarded copies to his staff, adding, “I don’t believe we are obligated in any way to respond. There are only wrong answers for this guy.”3
Calmer heads prevailed but Edelman’s response was long on links to its website and short on specifics. The other five agency responses were equally perfunctory and devoid of news, so the Guardian followed up by asking all the firms originally surveyed if they would work for clients that deny the existence of man-made climate change. Not surprisingly, the resulting Guardian story focused on its own mini-survey and news that 10 of the world’s largest public relations companies “rule out working with climate deniers.” Edelman, which replied that it “takes on clients on a case-by-case basis,” was not among them. And the Guardian gleefully reprinted the agency’s internal e-mail about the survey, pointing out that Edelman represented the American Petroleum Institute, which it called “the main energy lobby.”
The Guardian story was picked up widely, but the report that got under Richard Edelman’s skin most ran in the online publication Motherboard. Headlined “How the world’s biggest PR firm helps promote climate denial,” the article said it was not surprised by Edelman’s equivocating response to the Guardian’s survey because it already “helps polluting companies use TV ads, Astroturf groups, and slick websites to promote climate change denial around the globe.”4
Richard Edelman was so upset he ignored the advice he would give his own clients, and called Brian Merchant, the editor responsible for the Motherboard piece, at home. “I just want you to know we’re not bad people, that’s all,” Edelman told Merchant. Asked if he felt his firm’s position on climate change had been misrepresented, Edelman said, “Yes. Deeply. Deeply. I don’t blame the Guardian reporter any more than I blame you—I blame the ham-head who filled out the questionnaire to be a little, uh, slick.… We fired [him] in part because of that stupid note he wrote, about, you know, how we don’t answer these kinds of things.” Merchant, of course, reported the entire exchange. For his part, Edelman also set the record straight on his blog the very next day.
Edelman fully recognizes the reality of, and science behind, climate change, and believes it represents one of the most important global challenges facing society, business and government today. To be clear, we do not accept client assignments that aim to deny climate change.
We believe that business, government and society must work together to address climate change by balancing the interdependent priorities of human development, the environment, and the global economy. As such we support our clients’ efforts to reduce emissions from their operations, improve energy efficiency, advance alternative fuels and sustainable energy solutions and lead in the transition to sustainable and socially responsible business models. We also work with clients to constructively participate in the dialogue around climate change and contribute to policy discussions, with the goal of making progress on this shared global challenge.5
Unlike John Hill, who apparently did not see anything unethical in sowing doubt about the health impacts of smoking, Edelman declared that he and his agency believed in the reality of climate change, and they would not accept client assignments that sought to deny it. What was behind that decision?
The uncharitable will say Edelman was considering the reputational consequences of continuing to work for climate deniers. And that certainly played a role. After all, the agency’s response to the Guardian survey had already subjected it to heavy criticism, and even ridicule in some quarters. But in the end, Edelman may have been listening to his own father, who back in 1992 had warned his peers, “Let’s not allow greed to blur our vision and our commitment to do the right thing, to work for the right kind of people, and to counsel them in the right direction.”6
Richard Edelman is not coy about being “in the business of advocacy.” But he claims his agency is selective about the clients it accepts, limiting its representation to those “committed to fact-based, truthful, and transparent communications.” Edelman does not pretend to agree with every position a client may adopt or condone every action it may take. It even reserves the right to take positions that differ from those of its clients. And it supports each employee’s right not to work on accounts that do not align with his or her personal beliefs. But it believes vigorous debate is the fuel of the democratic process and makes no apologies for helping its clients present their perspective. On the other hand, it is not simply a gun for hire. Before taking on a client, it considers “the potential ethical, commercial, reputational, and legal implications.”7
“It helps to be an independent, family-owned company,” Edelman says. “I don’t have to obsess about this quarter’s financial results, or even the year’s. I’m focused on the firm’s reputation, long-term health, and doing what’s right.” So it’s entirely possible that Richard Edelman was looking at the broader implications of accepting such an assignment, that he in fact was considering something that Kant did not pay much attention to—the consequences of his agency’s actions on the public interest.
Consequences
Kant was notorious for his stiff-necked absolutism. To him, whether something is right or wrong depends entirely on whether or not it violates his categorical imperative. And if something is wrong, it is wrong—no exceptions. So when asked if it would be wrong to tell a lie to save someone’s life, he quickly replied, “yes,” explaining the consequences have no bearing on the rightness or wrongness of someone’s actions. This has created a serious conundrum for many. As Australian scholar Alex Messina (2007, p. 39) has noted, “Public relations practitioners—like most people in daily life—are actors not debaters. They need a guide to ethical action consistent with the community of daily life, rather than an idealistic community of absolutes.”
Luckily, ethicist James Rachels (1991, p. 131) built an escape hatch from Kant’s absolutism. He pointed out that “reversibility” (would I be willing to have it apply to me?), was important in establishing a principle’s universality, but it did not really forbid exceptions. A principle that “it’s permissible to lie to save innocent lives” can be both reversible and universal. “All that Kant’s basic idea requires is that if we violate a rule, we do so for a reason that we would be willing for anyone to accept, were they in our position.” Of course, exceptions must be based on some idea of consequences and Kant did not care about those.
As it happens, while Kant was laying down his theory, a developing school of ethical thought took exactly the opposite perspective—whether an act is right or wrong depends solely on its consequences. As we will see, that approach broadens the scope of ethics from what practitioners do to how it affects others. And even to what clients they accept.
Utilitarianism
Some form of consequence-focused ethics has been around since Aristotle’s day. But philosophers differed about just what consequences mattered and to whom. Some thought all that mattered were consequences to the person taking action. That resulted in a kind of egoism that was hard to justify socially. Others believed the goal of any action should be the maximization of pleasure. That raw appeal to hedonism seemed rather shortsighted, if not unseemly. Eventually, many philosophers settled on a form of results-based ethics that considers the right choice in any situation to be the one that produces the most useful consequences for the greatest number of people. In practical terms, “useful consequences” are those that can satisfy people’s needs or wants (i.e., make them happy). The theory is called utilitarianism, and its greatest proponent was a British philosopher and civil servant named John Stuart Mill (1806–1873).
John Mill
Mill was to the 19th century what Kant was to the 18th—one of the time’s most critical thinkers. Mill did not invent utilitarianism—that honor probably belongs to his godfather, Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832). But Mill’s father, James, a philosopher in his own right, was so taken by Bentham’s “utilitarian” theory, he set out to raise a “genius” who would promulgate it after he and Bentham were gone.
Luckily, Mill was a precocious child. He learned Greek by the time he was three and Latin by eight. In his teens, he was studying philosophy and economics essentially on his own and under his father’s tutelage. A non-conformist and atheist, he refused to join the Church of England so he was barred from attending Oxford or Cambridge. Nevertheless, he eventually became rector of Scotland’s University of St. Andrews and a Member of Parliament. He wrote broadly on issues of social justice and economics. For example, he was opposed to slavery and a proponent of women’s rights, including the right to vote. But he is probably best known for his contribution to ethics.
Mill developed and refined Bentham’s theory in a series of essays gathered together in a book under the title Utilitarianism in 1863. In it, Mill formulated a single ethical principle, which he said formed the basis of the utilitarian theory:
The Greatest-Happiness Principle holds that actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness (Mill, 1863/2001, p. 10).
Most importantly, as Mill made clear, what is at stake here is not the agent’s own happiness “but the greatest amount of happiness altogether” (p. 10). In other words, we should always try to produce the greatest balance of good over bad for “all concerned” (p. 19). And we should draw the circle of those concerned as broadly as possible to include society as a whole, making the common good an ethical consideration.
There are obvious complications to this approach. To start, utilitarianism tends to favor the majority over any minority. If something has good consequences for most of the people in a community, but is unalterably bad for a small number, utilitarianism would seem to favor the majority. More recently, philosophers like John Rawls (1921–2002) jumped to utilitarianism’s rescue by suggesting it include considerations of justice. According to Rawls the greatest good for the greatest number should not be used to trample the rights of the few. Fairness counts, too. The problem, of course, is defining fairness. Rawls suggested a thought experiment called “the veil of ignorance” that cleverly did the trick: design a society fair enough that you would agree to be born into it without knowing what position you would occupy within it. Such a society, he suggested (1985, p. 227), would conform to two principles, paraphrased as:
First, basic liberties such as freedom of speech, conscience, and assembly would be unlimited until they began to infringe on other people’s liberties.
Secondly, no one would be allowed to gain more power or wealth than others unless (a) everyone else had the same opportunity and (b) in the long run, it worked to the advantage of the worse-off.
Rawls’ ethical arguments are more complex than that, of course, but for our purposes, he rounds out the theory of utilitarianism in a way that protects the rights of the few from the tyranny of the many.
With that, utilitarianism seems like a practical approach to resolving ethical problems and, at least initially, it looks relatively easy to use. But, in fact, it is sometimes difficult to predict all the consequences of our actions, which can roll out in a long cascading chain. Many are unknowable until they happen, which could be far off in the future. And it could take forever to measure the potential consequences of our actions on everyone affected. Furthermore, some consequences—like anger, fear, and despair—are hard to quantify at all, leading to the conclusion that if something cannot be counted, it does not count. For those reasons, among others, most utilitarians today encourage us to use rules of thumb in ordinary circumstances. Mill himself suggested it is not hard to figure out what typically makes people happy or unhappy.
Bentham and Mill spoke in terms of “happiness” and “pleasure.” Bentham, in fact, had developed a complicated “hedonic system” for evaluating pleasure and pain by such factors as their intensity and duration. Mill had a more elevated notion of happiness, giving greater weight to intellectual satisfaction than physical pleasure. But both men were essentially hedonists. Many modern ethicists, wary of trying to compare one person’s happiness to another’s, focus instead on people’s general welfare.8
And that, in fact, is what may have motivated Richard Edelman’s decision to ban work on behalf of climate deniers. He believes the science on climate change is sufficiently settled to make muddying those waters contrary to the public interest and ethically wrong.
Public Interest
The public interest is one of those concepts that everyone bandies about without a clear notion of what it means. Practically everyone who has given public relations’ social obligations a moment’s thought has invoked its duty to act in the public interest. In a 1939 speech to railroad executives, Arthur W. Page of AT&T said that any large enterprise’s success depended on “conducting itself in the public interest.”9
But what exactly do we mean by “the public interest”? In its “Code of Ethics,” the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) suggests responsible advocacy serves the public interest essentially by definition. “We serve the public interest by acting as responsible advocates for those we represent.” Furthermore, it uses public interest as a kind of corral around the obligation of client loyalty: “We are faithful to those we represent, while honoring our obligation to serve the public interest.”10 But PRSA members would have to search wide and far to get an explanation of just what constitutes the “public interest” and how to balance it with a client’s.
We are not picking on the PRSA. The International Association of Business Communicators (IABC) takes somewhat the same tack in its very first principle: “Professional communicators uphold the credibility and dignity of their profession by practicing honest, candid and timely communication and by fostering the free flow of essential information in accord with the public interest.”11 The International Public Relations Association (IPRA) takes the same approach, noting, “Public relations, by fostering the free flow of information, contributes to the interests of all stakeholders.”The Global Alliance for Public Relations and Communications Management (GAPR) prefaces its “guiding principles for ethical practice” by cautioning, “In making decisions, we should be guided by a higher sense of serving the public as a whole as opposed to specific constituencies on an exclusive basis.” The Chartered Institute of Public Relations (CIPR) only mentions the public interest in connection with resolving complaints against members, to wit, “Members of the Institute have a duty to bring a complaint against a Member, where it is in the public interest to do so.” So we are left with the impression that this public interest thing is pretty important while scratching our heads to define it. If serving the public interest is the linchpin on which the ethical practice of public relations hangs, we have to get a better handle on it.
In legal terms, the public interest is “the well-being of the general public,” and it appears in the codes of professionals from architects to zoologists.12 But how is this “general well-being” to be measured? Do we take a utilitarian approach, invoking the principle of the greatest good for the greatest number? Or do we get all Kantian and try to find a universal interest to which no reasonable person could object? Is the public interest a matter of counting noses or plumbing the public psyche? Some public relations scholars have pondered these questions only to throw up their hands in frustration. Alex Messina (2007, p. 38), for example, concluded, “there is no definable role for the ‘public interest’ as a standard to measure ethical persuasion.”
But the term’s very imprecision may be what makes it most useful. To start with, the public interest clearly connotes interests that are broader than “private,” suggesting that, public relations practitioners have an obligation to look beyond their own and their client’s narrow, selfish interests to the public’s well-being. And one need not wait for 100 percent certainty on that score. Outside of logic and mathematics, such levels of certainty are impossible. Science, for example, is all about narrowing uncertainty. “Settled science” is a provisional conclusion shared by a broad consensus of experts, based on the preponderance of evidence. Where such consensus exists, as in the advisability of childhood vaccinations and the validity of evolution and climate change, the public interest compels us to recognize and honor it. Where no consensus exists, it obligates us to open and respectful dialog.
Similarly, how public relations initiatives affect the general welfare cannot be calculated with mathematical precision. Available evidence is often ambiguous, conflicting, and even contradictory. But that is true of every major business decision practitioners make. Here too, they are obligated to examine the issue from all sides to arrive at a reasonable judgment of what is in the general welfare, at minimum ensuring they do no harm.
In most cases, this calculation will be the responsibility of the most senior public relations executive in an agency or a corporation, in close consultation with clients. But that does not absolve the individual practitioners who report to them from making their own personal assessment. In some cases, that may cause some practitioners to ask to be reassigned. In very rare cases, if they conclude they cannot in good conscience work for an organization dedicated to a purpose they believe will seriously harm the general public, it may even require them to resign.
The concept of “the public interest” may be as imprecise as many ideals, but it can be just as powerful. As one scholar put it, “The rule of law, due process, a free press, a loyal opposition, and the public interest are all value-laden concepts the limits and substance of which are difficult to define with precision, but all are significant in the maintenance of democratic government.”13 By adhering to the standard of serving the public interest, the practice of public relations could ennoble itself and rise to the level of a profession, rather than a simple trade.
Of course, decisions like Edelman’s raise an old question—whether or not everyone is entitled to public relations representation. John Hill would have taken issue with the very question. “Every man has a right to a hearing,” Hill (1993, p. 138) wrote, “and if he is under public attack, the right to defend himself publicly.” He considered his job similar to a lawyer’s. He was simply arguing the tobacco industry’s case in what he called “the court of public opinion,” representing his client as best he could. As Hill put it, in public relations, American business has “a shield and a spear. It can defend or attack, as the case may be” (p. 259). Why should any business lay down its shield or blunt its spear in the face of an existential assault such as that besieging the tobacco industry? Let the litigants present their cases and let the public decide whose arguments carry the day, just as in a court of law.
It is a compelling argument. But the courtroom may be a false analogy. Indeed, scholars like Scott Cutlip (1981) suggest the “court of public opinion” is more like an arena with gladiators than a courtroom full of lawyers.
In a courtroom, both sides have an equal voice in the proceedings, with a judge serving as impartial referee to rule on evidence and to ensure that both sides follow the rules. If one side submits evidence the judge believes will unduly prejudice the jury, he or she can exclude it, even if it is relevant. But in the arena of public opinion, one side can swamp the other simply by spending more. Short of outright fraud, there is no one to rule on what they claim. Courts of law are designed to decide cases based on the facts without regard to the feelings of those involved. In fact, juries are frequently instructed to ignore any emotional appeals one of the litigants might have made. But as noted in earlier chapters, public opinion is often ruled by emotion, with both sides trying to exploit people’s prejudices and fears. Furthermore, the legal arena is not as time-bound. While the Constitution promises everyone a “speedy trial,” in practice both sides can often stretch the time to trial out as it suits their purpose. In civil and appelate trials, judges can take all the time they need to render a decision. Lawyers are under no obligation to speak to the media. In fact, in some cases, they are forbidden to discuss the trial out of court. But public relations people almost always are asked for comments within hours, sometimes minutes. Journalists (and other members of the general public) appear to respect attorneys who ask for a continuance or refuse to comment on a legal matter. But public relations people (understandably) are not granted that luxury.
Perhaps most importantly, in a court of law, the stakes are much higher than in the arena of public opinion. No one goes to jail simply because bad press hurts their reputation. As ethicist Patricia Parsons (2004, p. 16) points out, lawyers who represent notorious criminals are not displaying belief in their client, but rather in an elaborate legal system and everyone’s right to due process. “No such infrastructure exists for public relations, she notes.” All of which helps explain why lawyers are expected to represent people accused of the most reprehensible crimes, while a public relations practitioner’s choice of clients can also redound on its own reputation.
For example, Ketchum long counted Russia among its clients, managing the country’s English-language website, setting up foreign visits for its ministers, and lining up businessmen, lawyers, and academics to write pro-Russian op eds for U.S. and European media.14 On September 11, 2013, it placed an op ed by Russian president Vladimir Putin in the New York Times urging President Obama to reconsider airstrikes against Syria for chemical weapons violations.15 That raised a few eyebrows, but to Ketchum it was just another account and a profitable one at that, with more than $25 million in billings between 2006 and 2013.16 Still, following the Russian invasion of Ukraine in March 2014, the agency felt compelled to announce it was “not advising the Russian Federation on foreign policy, including the current situation in Ukraine.”17 By 2015, as the Ukrainian crisis dragged on despite Western sanctions, Ketchum no longer represented the Russian Federation, though it is unclear whether it had quit or been fired.18 Not to worry though. As D.C. reporter Tess VandenDolder put it, “there are a number of firms here in Washington willing to work with unsavory foreign characters.”19
In fact, a number of U.S. public relations agencies work for regimes with questionable human rights records, including Qorvis (Equatorial Guinea), APCO Worldwide (Azerbaijan), Racepoint Group (Rwanda), Levick (Nigeria), Glover Park Group (Egyptian strongman General Sisi), and the Rogich Communications Group (China).20 Some argue that, except for a small number of countries under U.S. economic sanctions, such as Syria and North Korea, there is nothing illegal about it. Such representation can even help improve relations by giving foreign leaders a better view of how their actions are being perceived. The Page Society’s Roger Bolton pointed out other benefits. “When public relations firms advise clients, they invariably advocate for the importance of listening to and accommodating others’ views,” he wrote. “The fact that this hasn’t worked [in Ketchum’s work for Russia] says more about President Putin’s political views and ambitions than it does about the value of engagement.”21 Ketchum got bad press, but was its representation of Russia really unethical?
Ethics of Representation
As founder of Burson-Marsteller, Harold Burson has on more than one occasion had to weigh whether or not to represent a company. Now in his mid-90s, he can still rattle off the clients he has turned down and why he passed on the assignments. Sometimes, it was simply because it conflicted with an existing account. But sometimes it was a matter of principle. And he can still articulate his philosophy in a soft voice that commands attention. “I believe that every institution, every person is entitled to have public relations representation,” Burson told us. “I do not believe that I am compelled in any way or manner to be the one who provides that representation.” That does not mean he has to agree with every client on every issue. “I think that [in regards to] unpopular causes which are legitimate [and with] which I may not agree, I do not think it’s unethical for me to represent that client as long as I can do so in a way that my client is not compromised by my disagreement.”22
But in the end Burson believes public relations practitioners need to believe in what they are being asked to do. “I am engaged to motivate individuals or groups to take a position or take an action that my client seeks to have taken,” Burson says.
I think I should … make the judgment on whether I represent such a client by asking myself the question, “Is what this client wants to do in the public interest?” I believe that no action can be sustained or successful if, in the long run, it is not in the public interest despite the wide disparity in its definition. As a former Supreme Court justice said of pornography, “you know it when you see it.”
Existing codes of conduct published by the various professional associations may dance around the issue, but Burson puts the public interest at the center of ethical decisions in the practice of public relations. And that points up the dual nature of public relations ethics. Ethical behavior depends on a client’s goals, as well as to the way practitioners try to achieve them. If a client’s purpose is unethical, nothing a practitioner does can compensate.
Sometimes the ethics of a client’s cause are not so obvious, except in hindsight. And guilt by association is always a danger. Prior to World War II, Ivy Lee worked for I. G. Farben Industrie, a German company closely aligned with the Nazi party. Although he never advised the German government, a 1934 Congressional Committee accused him of being anti-Semitic and of doing propaganda work for the Nazi government. He died of a brain tumor before the details of his work could be established (Cutlip, 1994). Carl Byoir, whose agency promoted tourism to Germany in the 1930s, at least had the satisfaction of being cleared by the FBI when a U.S. Congressman accused him of un-American activities.23
In some cases, the law makes ethical determinations for us. But what are we to make of legal, but unsavory products such as pornography, gambling, or marijuana? When one of us worked for AT&T, its cable television division began carrying hard-core pornography. When it became public, the Board of Directors questioned how it would affect the company’s brand, but ultimately gave in to the financial arguments in favor of carrying channels with 90 percent profit margins. Was that an ethical decision?
Burson-Marsteller was once asked to help the U.S. Council of Catholic Bishops explain its anti-abortion stance. The agency turned the job down because its executives did not want to put employees in the position of possibly working on an account with which they disagreed and because they did not want to attract media coverage that might embarrass other clients. Meanwhile, Hill & Knowlton accepted the work and shrugged off the criticism. Which agency was acting ethically?
One could argue that Hill & Knowlton’s decision was ethical because (1) there is no clear consensus on the issue of abortion and (2) representing the American bishops could lead to better understanding amongst the parties on both sides. In fact, the agency’s CEO at the time, Robert Dilenschneider, put it in precisely those terms. “In my view, everybody—whether it’s Jack the Ripper or the Catholic Church—has the right to be heard,” he told us.24 To him, that is clearly in the public interest. (Of course, in practice, much would depend on how the agency—and its client—comported themselves. But in theory if they respected their opponents’ autonomous dignity, it would be ethical.) At the same time, Burson-Marsteller had no ethical obligation to take on a client that made it uncomfortable, whatever the reason. On the other hand, accepting an account and then dumping it simply because it turns out to be unpopular could be unethical because it would be unfair to the client.
Another Ethical Conundrum
For example, consider the following ethical conundrum: AT&T was once caught in the crossfire between the forces of the pro-choice and pro-life movements. The AT&T Foundation had long made an annual contribution to Planned Parenthood to support programs preventing teen pregnancy. But by 1990, the organization had become a leading advocate of abortion rights and some executives worried the company’s contribution made it look like it was taking sides in the debate on abortion. So after some debate, the Foundation decided to quietly stop its contributions to Planned Parenthood.
When the Washington Times included AT&T in a roundup story on “Right to Life Victories,” Planned Parenthood was outraged and issued a news release accusing AT&T of “corporate cowardice.” It also ran full-page newspaper ads vilifying the company for caving in to the religious right and asking people who believed in “The Right to Choose” to “Hang Up on AT&T.” The ads had two coupons: one to send as a protest to AT&T, the other to send money to Planned Parenthood. Editorial writers and columnists jumped on the bandwagon. A Boston Globe columnist wrote that “AT&T” now stood for “Abortion, Timidity and Teeming millions more unplanned babies.”25 Within just a few weeks AT&T received 40,000 coupons from those Planned Parenthood ads, along with 90,000 phone calls and 53,000 letters. Ironically, AT&T never intended to take a position on abortion. But by allowing itself to be cowed into submitting to the demands of one side in the abortion debate, it arguably did make a choice.
The president of the AT&T Foundation—who was personally pro-choice—insisted he was not “caving in to outside pressure,” but listening to the views of the foundation’s stakeholders and trustees, not to mention the CEO of the company that funded it. He insisted he had an obligation to “disentangle the company from identification with what had become highly political, hyperactive, single-issue advocacy.” It was, he argued, “a matter of principle.” After all, money is fungible and support for Planned Parenthood’s clinical work, which constitutes more than 95 percent of its budget, can easily slide over into its advocacy work. Besides, he pointed out, “only a handful of customers lodged protests by leaving AT&T” (Levy, 1999, pp. 103–105).
But from a consequentialist perspective, AT&T threw fuel on the fires of a raging debate, casting plenty of heat, without contributing a single ray of enlightened discourse. With the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, AT&T should have stood its ground, explaining its Planned Parenthood contributions were to prevent teen pregnancy, and taking whatever heat came its way. Instead, it tried to find a middle path only to discover it no longer had any ground to stand on.
On the other hand, when its self-interest was more obvious, the company was steadfast. For example, the religious right had also attacked AT&T for its inclusive employment policies. It was the first major American corporation to include sexual orientation in its formal diversity policy, back in 1975. The company sought to create a productive and supportive working environment for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender employees. Many of its employees celebrate Gay Pride Month, just as they do Hispanic Heritage Month or other cultural and ethnic commemorations.
All this infuriated some on the religious right, who accused the company of everything from “indoctrinating” its employees in “aberrant lifestyles” to “encouraging immorality.” Nevertheless, the company never wavered on its diversity policy. To compete in an industry whose principal engine is human creativity, AT&T simply must attract and keep the best talent available, without regard to race, gender, disability, religion, sexual orientation, or any other irrelevant circumstance The issue is so fundamental to its own self-interest there is no room for compromise.
On some controversial issues the lines between right and wrong—good and bad—are pretty thin. On hot button issues ranging from abortion and genetically modified food to gun control and gender identity, there are intelligent people of good will on both sides and still little chance of consensus. To come full circle, even though Edelman declared it would not support climate change denial, its critics ask how it can provide other services to fossil fuel companies, such as promoting their environmental programs or their carbon-based products. Some environmental groups have even asked museums to “cut all ties” with fossil fuel companies and philanthropists who made their money in oil.26 For its part, late in 2015. Edelman announced it would no longer work “with clients in the coal production industry” because “coal emits the most CO2 of any fossil fuel per unit of energy obtained.”27
Summary
As we have noted, the concept of the public interest is imprecise and at best a general guide in ethical decision making. That is not to say it is futile to ask the question; only that two different people, each striving to do what is right, could come up with diametrically opposed answers. What is critical is that they be able to justify their reasoning on ethical grounds.
What we can say is this: where personal and professional values are at odds, one owes it to a client to reveal the conflict. And whenever practitioners have reason to doubt that a client’s purpose is in the public interest, they are obligated to resolve the issue to their personal satisfaction, either by resigning the account or by satisfying themselves that the arguments in its favor are sufficiently persuasive to warrant their support.
In all these considerations, practitioners need to guard against personal arrogance, the certainty that they are inalterably right and others are absolutely wrong. They should remain open to the possibility that what seems certain today might, under different circumstances or with new information, appear less categorical. And they should recognize the importance of free speech and vigorous debate in a democracy. But in the end, one must live with integrity, with no space between beliefs and behavior.
Meanwhile, as we will see in the next chapter, the background music to this discussion, sometimes lifting it along, sometimes drowning it out, is a debate that has been raging for more than four decades—what is the fundamental responsibility of business?
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1 Miller, S. (2013, June 15). Public relations pioneer began with ‘Toni Twins’ stunt. Wall Street Journal. http://online.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887324235104578244253082298248. Accessed July 22, 2015.
2 Strahler, S. (2013, January 15). Public relations pioneer Daniel Edelman has died. Crain’s Chicago Business. http://www.chicagobusiness.com/article/20130115/NEWS06/120919857/public-relations-pioneer-daniel-edelman-has-died. Accessed July 22, 2015.
3 Goldenberg, S., & Karim, N. (2014, August 4). World’s top PR companies rule out working with climate deniers. The Guardian. http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2014/aug/04/worlds-top-pr-companies-rule-out-working-with-climate-deniers. Accessed July 22, 2015.
4 Merchant, B. (2014, August 5). PR firm helps promote climate change denial. Motherboard. http://motherboard.vice.com/read/how-the-largest-pr-firm-in-the-world-promotes-climate-change-denial. Accessed July 22, 2015.
5 Edelman, R. (2014, August 7). Edelman’s position on climate change. 6 AM blog. http://www.edelman.com/p/6-a-m/edelmans-position-climate-change/. Accessed July 22, 2015.
6 Edelman, D. (1992, November). Ethical behavior is key to field’s future. PR Journal, Vol. 48, No. 11, p. 32.
7 This and the following quotes are from a conversation with Richard Edelman on May 30, 2015.
8 This is, of course, somewhat of a simplification. There are many versions of utilitarianism. Contemporary philosophers have defined the ultimate good in many ways, ranging from George Moore’s ideals of beauty and friendship (Principia Ethica, Chapter 6) to Peter Singer’s rational preferences (Mautner, 1997, pp. 521–522).
9 Page addressed executives of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway Company on “Industrial Statesmanship” in White Sulfur Springs, VA, on October 27, 1939. See http://comm.psu.edu/page-center/speech/industrial-statesmanship
10 The full text of the PRSA Code of Ethics can be found at http://www.prsa.org/aboutprsa/ethics/codeenglish/#.VFASUpPF_Io.
11 The full text of all these association codes is online. The IABC Code of Ethics can be found at http://www.iabc.com/about/code.htm. of the IPRA Code of Ethics can be found at http://www.ipra.org/about/ipra-codes the GAPR Code of Ethics can be found at http://www.globalalliancepr.org/website/sites/default/files/nolie/Governance/Code%20of%20ethics/GA-Code%20of%20Ethics.pdf. the CIPR Code can be found at http://www.cipr.co.uk/sites/default/files/Code%20of%20Conduct%20-%20agreed%20changes%20November%202013.pdf. Accessed September 7, 2015.
12 See, for example, West’s Online Encyclopedia of American Law. (n.d.). http://www.thefreedictionary.com/public+interest. Accessed July 22, 2015.
13 Herring, H. (1968). International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences. Encyclopedia.com. http://www.encyclopedia.com/topic/Public_interest.aspx. Accessed July 22, 2015.
14 Lake, E. (2014, March 11). Confessions of a Putin spin-doctor. The Daily Beast. http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/03/11/confessions-of-a-putin-spin-doctor.html. Accessed July 22, 2015.
15 Putin, V. (2013, September 11). A Plea for Caution from Russia, New York Times, http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/12/opinion/putin-plea-for-caution-from-russia-on-syria.html
16 Elliott, J. (2013, September 12). From Russia with PR. ProPublica. http://www.propublica.org/article/from-russia-with-pr-ketchum-cnbc. Accessed July 22, 2015.
17 Sullivan, A. (2014, March 6) “Russia’s U.S. PR Firm Distances Itself From Ukraine Dispute,” Reuters. See: http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/03/06/ukraine-crisis-ketchum-idUSL1N0M22BB20140306
18 Wollstonecraft, M. (1792). A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27083. Accessed July 22, 2015.
19 VandenDolder, T. (2014, December 3). Why Russia may cancel its contract with DC PR firm Ketchum. DCInno. http://dcinno.streetwise.co/2014/09/03/why-russia-might-cancel-its-contract-with-dc-pr-firm-ketchum/. Accessed July 22, 2015.
20 Ainger, K. (2015, January). Spin doctors to the autocrats. Corporate Europe Observatory. http://corporateeurope.org/pressreleases/2015/01/european-pr-firms-whitewashing-brutal-regimes-report. Accessed July 22, 2015.
21 Bolton, R. (2015, March 13). Ketchum and Russia. PageTurner Blog. http://www.awpagesociety.com/2015/03/ketchum-and-russia/.
22 Source for this and the following quotes: conversations and email exchanges with Harold Burson on April 03, 2014, and March 10, 2015.
23 FBI Clears Carl Byoir of ‘Nazi Propaganda’ Charge. (1940, July 18). JTA. http://www.jta.org/1940/07/18/archive/fbi-clears-carl-byoir-of-nazi-propaganda-charge. Accessed July 22, 2015.
24 Source: conversation with Robert Dilenschneider on March 10, 2015.
25 AT&T’s Scarlet Letter. (1990, March 29). Boston Globe. http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P2-8166855.html. Accessed July 22, 2015.
26 See An Open Letter to Museums from Members of the Scientific Community. (2015, March 24). http://thenaturalhistorymuseum.org/open-letter-to-museums-from-scientists/. Accessed July 22, 2015.
27 Ironically enough, the policy change was first reported in The Guardian newspaper. See Goldenberg, S. (2015, Sept, 15). Edelman ends work with coal producers. The Guardian. http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2015/sep/15/edelman-ends-work-with-coal-and-climate-change-deniers. Accessed October 13, 2015.