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With enmity abroad and antipathy and ignorance Jt home, more than ever before the armed Services of (he Western democracies need high reputations if they ^e to daunt their enemies, win over waverers, and enlist the sympathy and help of their own peoples. These three achievements are vital factors in the Cold ^ar and they all lie in the little-understood field of public relations.
It is therefore important that today’s fighting man should understand this aspect of his trade. Especially, he should comprehend the difference between "public relations” and "P.R.” The former is, quite simply, the Inherent relationship between an organization or individual and the rest of the world. "P.R.,” on the other hand, is no more and no less than the business of putting those public relations to work.
Public relations itself is as old as mankind. Adam, caught with the half-eaten Apple of Knowledge in his hand, clearly had not bitten into the P.R. side, for to this day his excuse ranks as an all-time low in buckpassing: "The woman gave me and I did eat.”
It rings true, as every husband will agree. Nevertheless, it is deplorable public relations.
Nor does his layabout son Cain seem to have learned kom his father’s ineptitude: "Am I my brother’s keeper?”
To this impertinent and futile attempt to sweep under the carpet a story that had already broken can possibly be ascribed the bad press which, until the emergence of P.R.-conscious anarchists and nihilists, had been the lot of all subsequent murderers.
On the other hand, King David knew, none better, how to slide out of a tight corner. In the unsavory business of liquidating Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah the Hittite, he quickly recognized the red light. Where Adam might have muttered something about being "just good friends” with Bathsheba and Cain might have slung back "What’s one Hittite more or less?”, David owned his guilt, donned sackcloth and ashes and rode out the predictably short-lived storm.
Adam, Cain, and David respectively illustrate the three basic attitudes toward public relations: the naive, the arrogant, and the professional. Yet all three had passed from the scene many centuries before P.R., in the sense we have given to it, came into its own; before Man, busy 20th-century Modern Man, realized that here was a trade/industry/profession that could indeed put those age-old public relations to work for him. So P.R. was born.
Yet, even today, Modern Man has only the most superficial interest in or knowledge of PR., and is far from unanimous about its value. We, therefore, as members of a fighting Service of the Western world, would indeed do well to ask ourselves just how much we really understand of the nature, purpose, methods, and worth of P.R. as far as these concern us.
To suggest that P.R. has had—or is having—an easy ride to universal acceptance by the fighting Services is to close our eyes to the very real obstacles in its path. First, P.R. is new, or thought to be so; all Services are, by nature and tradition, conservative. Second, P.R. lives by publicity—of the right sort, naturally, but still publicity; much of what the Services do (and more of what they plan) is rightly cloaked in secrecy. Third, it is easy to stigmatize P.R. as brash, vulgar, and pushy; to extol
62 U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, July 1973
the Services as dignified, elite, and restrained.
Our very first task, therefore, is to overcome the state of mind suggested by two out of these three "obstacles,” a state of old-world ease and privilege that has no place in the competitive 1970s. But what of the conflict of interest between "publicity” and "security?” With the best will in the world, some of this conflict is built-in. For the moment, let us recognize the fact,
I to be considered later, and discuss briefly the nature
and purpose of P.R.
Meaning and mission. Like almost any other abstraction, P.R. can mean all sorts of things to all sorts of people. To some of its more ardent devotees it is the means of spreading gospel truth, that "communication” nowadays declared to be so desirable without actually specifying what is being communicated. To others, less enthusiastic, it is a verbal sleight-of-hand to persuade the gullible that black, if looked at with the P.R. light just so, is actually whiter-than-white.
Removed from this emotive background, military P.R. can be seen to be no better and no worse than how it is practiced. It is, quite simply, "public relations with a purpose.” And that purpose, applied to the present context, is: "To enhance the reputation of our fighting Services.”
This is our mission. Let us pause and consider it, for (like all missions) it is the heart of our endeavor. It is single, simple, and short; it is precise. "Enhance” is, of course, the key word: making the best of a good job; fostering and holding interest in run-of-the-mill, honest "duty-done;” taking as much heat as possible out of the occasional disaster, great or small, that comes the way of even the best outfits.
"Reputation”—or what? It is curious that the word "reputation” occurs so seldom in P.R. circles, for by all civilized standards it seems custombuilt for our P.R. mission. The Oxford English Dictionary gives its primary meaning as: "What is generally said or believed about a person’s or thing’s character,” and for good measure offers as second choice: "state of being well reported of, credit, respectability, good fame.”
Some, however, may have felt that "reputation” is far too old-world for such a vibrant, modern, thrusting, sophisticated, streamlined art-form. Not for them the language of Shakespeare, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Churchill—like Humpty-Dumpty, they would have words mean what they choose them to mean. So they have cast around for an in-word, one to inpart to a perfectly straightforward business something of the "misterie” of a medieval guild, and have lit on "image” (dismissed by the Oxford Dictionary as "artificial imitation”).
Is this what we really want? "Image” may be all right for selling shoes or soap—indeed, it may be just
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that—but not for a fighting Service; good enough maybe for Madison Avenue or Berkeley Square, but let us have no truck with it. What’s in a word? Plenty! This one can frame our whole approach. We seek "reputation” for a reality in which we believe.
Selling what and to whom? Service P.R. is selling; not, however, tangibles such as socks or sugar; not even a service such as healing or advocacy, but that most elusive of all commodities, an idea. This idea runs mote or less on the following lines: first, that the Service in question is powerful, battle-ready, well-equipped, trained and organized; second, that it offers a good career, a life that is interesting, satisfying, reasonably well-rewarded in terms of pay, living conditions, honors, and public esteem.
In P.R. circles these two aspects are often classified as "prestige” and "recruiting” publicity, respectively1' It is convenient to do so at the working level and ts often helpful in extracting the maximum P.R. dividend from any situation. It is important, however, that wc should not think that they divide P.R. neatly in two, nor that they can be more than very approximately equated with the two basic requirements of any fighting force—funds and men. "Recruiting” is fairly straightforward, but "prestige” calls for further inspection with regard to both its nature and extent.
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Not only are the edges heavily blurred—"prestige can bring in recruits and "recruiting” can encouragc the allocation of funds—but also, directly in the ca# of "prestige” and indirectly for "recruiting,” the overall "reputation” extends far beyond national boundaries- Service P.R. is world-wide and, to be fully effective, must always be thought of as such. After all, if ^e look at our fighting Services as instruments of national-" or allied—policy, then, on the "reputation” front, itlS their standing overseas that is the final end-product to which logically all other efforts on this side must be subordinate.
This other, broader, international face of "prestige should show to the world our determination to pW our part in maintaining peace for ourselves and oUr friends; with efficient, friendly, powerful, tactful helf wherever and whenever needed; backing for thosf threatened, help for those in distress. This is the fatC that reassures those friends, cajoles the fence-sittefS down onto our side, invites our enemies—so very tac[' fully—to pause and reflect before subjecting our friend or ourselves to any affront, still less to actual attack This is deterrence at its very lowest and safest kvC*
The "International Service P.R.” concept, (to g>'c it a name) is about our Services, but, as often as no1, is handled by those outside, such as the State Depaft ment or Foreign Office. Nevertheless, we can play °ur part: by providing material, naturally, but also by un
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. . As Others See Us** 63
demanding that not all international games are played to the same rules; those of the diplomatic conflict are not always as conveniently clear-cut as those of the strictly military. Thus, if we ever find ourselves on our own—and every captain of a warship is liable to do so—we could do worse than conduct our affairs on the guiding principle of "powerful presence combined with total tact.” Or, to paraphrase Teddy Roosevelt’s famous dictum: "Sail softly, carry as big a stick as you can muster, but do not wave it around; just let it be seen.” In this context we can safely say: "National sensitivity varies inversely as the square of the sum of that nation’s importance and maturity.” So, on the International P.R. front, a hundred humble lives saved from flood or storm often weigh as nothing against ruffled official feathers.
These, then, are the nature, mission, and extent of the P.R. that is exercised for—or by—the armed Services. It is now necessary to discover just where it all fits—or should fit—into our Service organization. To do this, we need to analyze four widely different aspects: first, priorities and people within the Service; then, our market outside the service, thus to determine the qualities required in our end-product, which might be termed the P.R. merchandise on offer. And the operative word is "offer.”
In addition to the unfortunate anti-P.R. attitudes referred to earlier on—not so widespread as they used to be, but still more common than most of us would tare to admit—there are two heresies to be anathematized: first, that the business is so recondite that it can only be touched by the "experts;” second, and to some extent arising from the first, that it is for the rest of os an extraneous activity and in no wise part of our normal duty.”
To counter these with the fine-sounding slogan that "P.R. is everyone’s business! ” is to ignore the sad fact 'hat what is everyone’s business often ends up as no one’s actual responsibility, a permanent resident in the Pending” basket.
The trouble stems from the nature of P.R. It is not so much a job as an aspect of every job. It is a factor 'o be considered at every stage: in planning, organizing, executing, and in the aftermath. It is therefore a part of command. True, the commander will almost always We someone—or a whole team—to help him, but no '"ore so than with any other "staff” job. The responsibility is squarely in his lap. Thus, no matter whether be has under his charge a single minesweeper, a major Wto command or anything in between, whenever he decides, acts or speaks, he should have considered not °oly the straight "military implications,” but also the Possible repercussions on the reputation of his Service,
his country, and possibly the Western alliance.
The vital point is that P.R. is not just a spin-off, but part and parcel of everything the fighting services are seen (or known) to do. This, after all, is no more than the logical follow-on of the International Service P.R. concept referred to above. There is little doubt that the point has been well taken at the Pentagon/ Ministry of Defense level and by senior commanders, but it is not quite so certain that this part-and- parcel concept is fully understood, as it should be, all the way down the ladder. It is, of course, necessary that the upper ranks not only know for themselves but also pass the knowledge on downward.
Priorities. Command is essentially a matter of judgment; which, again, is largely a matter of assessing priorities. The question before us, therefore, is not whether P.R. is "a good thing,” but how good compared with everything else, every other claim on our time, money, men, and resources. Likewise, there are two aspects of "priority.” First, what we might term "priority of effort,” or how much we put in; second, "priority of importance,” or "how much we take out.” It is one thing to devote a great deal of time and skilled cerebration to some P.R. problem, quite another to decide how much weight the result is allowed to swing.
It is impossible to quantify such abstractions, but the following factors reflect our assessment:
► The commander in person. How much of his own time is the commander willing to give to P.R., directly or indirectly; not only in talking to mediamen (on and off the record), but also in writing and broadcasting, and in preparing for such activities; how much time to discussing P.R. aspects with his own team, from the appex down?
► P.R. Staff size. At what level, starting from the bottom, do we first find a full-time P.R. officer?
► P.R. Staff quality. Is an assignment to P.R. seen to be a "dead-end for a dead-beat” or a rung on the ladder to the top and a useful piece of experience to be remembered in the higher ranks for which the P.R.O. is clearly destined?
► Petty cash. The official attitude to minor P.R. spending can be revealing. Are we willing to oil the wheels? (Incidentally, let us not confuse this with any attempt to grease the palm. It is not easy to hoodwink a journalist; impossible to buy one.)
► Petty time. To what extent should odd periods of time be devoted to/diverted to P.R.-orientated work by all and sundry, irrespective of their "primary assignments?” A microcosm of the problem confronting the commander himself.
"Priority of importance” is even more elusive. By this phrase is meant, in effect, how much P.R. really
matters in the overall picture. Perhaps an example will help. Our allied maritime force sets about a mock amphibious landing on a friendly shore. Is it to be an "exercise” or an "operation?” What, in short, is its mission?
Are we primarily interested in training our men, testing equipment, trying out communications and tactics? If so, we have an exercise. If, on the other hand, we have a specific job to do—in this case a demonstration landing—then it is an operation.
Two things are certain: we cannot have both and we must be quite sure, as a command decision, which one we choose. In that decision, PR. at the highest level can play a vital part.
The actual question is quite simple: is it more important to train or to demonstrate? Reaching the right answer calls for clear thinking and political awareness. If we decide in favor of training, then we adjust the setting of the exercise to test for any weaknesses and, if things go wrong, the lessons are learned and that is fine. If, however, we decide that the claims of a "demonstration of allied solidarity, efficiency, and strength” are overriding, then, whatever we may call our business, we have an operation on our hands; one that must go like clockwork and be seen to do so by the droves of mediamen whom we shall, of course, invite in to witness the "solidarity, efficiency, and strength” aforesaid. We get our training, too, but as a bonus. The point is that "mission” and "means” have changed places. Because PR. says so.
Under "priority of importance” must also be resolved the conflicting interests of publicity and security, referred to earlier. What is good for one may be bad for the other. The vital principle should be that neither must be allowed to become over-riding. It is oversimplifying to dismiss the matter as another "command decision.” It is that, but at a high—even Penta- gon/M.O.D.—level, simply because any judgment must take into account the political factors. Even the most ardent P.R. enthusiast must be willing to accept
P.R.—1
. . As Others See Us” 65
fairly strict rules on security at the normal working level. There are occasions, however, judiciously chosen by those with full politico/military knowledge and authority, when the national purpose is better served by revelation rather than by hiding behind "security.” Not many, but some. We should keep our eyes open for them.
The P.R.O. The commander sets the policy and, as occasion demands, plays his personal part. The greater part of P.R. work, however, is done, as staff work, by his P.R.O. It is the latter and, if he is lucky, his staff, who have to spit on their hands and get on with the day-to-day toil; building up, brick by brick, the long- lasting edifice of that "reputation” that is P.R’s unswerving mission. First, what sort of people should our service P.R. men be? Let us expand a little on the factors listed above under "priorities,” and, in addition, take a look at "qualifications.”
Every independent unit (in the case of a navy, every ship) should have a P.R. organization. The trouble here is that P.R. is an activity whose effects are only apparent in the long term—if then; its neglect does not have the immediate impact of, say, poor maintenance on the sonar. Small wonder, then, if the lieutenant in the frigate, already lumbered with signal communications, athletics, sea cadet liaison, and (for good measure) laundry and morale, to say nothing of having to stand his watch, should tend to let P.R. slide.
By the same token, P.R. is a delicate flower that withers if left untended. It achieves its mission largely through a succession of small details: through press- liaison fostered; through opportunities, however trifling, recognized and seized. From the P.R. point of view, therefore, the further down the organization we can find either a full-time P.R. man or someone into whose job P.R. is built (such as a petty officer photographer) the better for our P.R. business.
"Quality” has already been mentioned, but what about "qualification?” In the case of a naval service, should the P.R.O. be "a seafarer who knows a bit about P.R.” or "a professional P.R. man who knows a bit about the navy?” The factors can, at times, be nicely balanced.
The naval officer knows his trade and hence should be a better source of information. The P.R. man knows his market, so knows what to offer it and how to present what he is offering. The answer probably lies in training—from both ends: the seaman should be given instruction, written guidance on the general subject of P.R. ("The P.R. Manual”) and, when the heat is on, instant technical help. Conversely, the professional P.R. man should grasp at every chance to learn more about the naval service.
Another, less obvious, weight in the service/civilian
scales is "credibility.” Much of P.R. material is demonstrable fact or reasoned opinion; some, however, relies for its acceptance on the credibility of the teller. This will, as always, depend on the individual’s record, but, also, it is at least arguable that an unsupported statement will be more readily accepted from someone in uniform than a "P.R. professional” in plain clothes.
In ships, the P.R. man is obviously an officer (part- time or otherwise); at command level, the factors have to be weighed (especially the amount of technical knowledge required; naval air command has an aviator—"when he talks about flying, he knows.” At Pentagon/M.O.D.-level the need would seem to be for the thorough expert on P.R. and the media, the men to whom nonspecialist P.R. officers can turn for technical advice about either side of the P.R.-media fence.
The market and the merchandise. We are in the P.R. business to sell "reputation”—eventually—to the various "publics” described earlier. Occasionally we can reach them directly, but mostly we have to work through the aptly named "media.” "The media of public information”—to give them their full collective title—consist primarily of the newspapers, radio, and TV. To these we should add the less powerful, but also less ephemeral, magazines, books, and films.
"Media” is right, but what of "information?”
Lord Northcliffe, recognized by many as the father of modern British journalism, put it all in a single phrase: 'My job is not to sell news, but to sell newspapers,’ which, incidentally, he did with signal success. What he said goes also for radio and TV, only more so. Thus, the media are interested, not in "news” per se, but in "news stories.” They are well aware of this fact of life; that the public has little wish to be "informed,” but an insatiable demand to be entertained. Professional P.R. men fully appreciate this, but do we in the fighting Services? Deplorably frivolous as it may seem to us, the reading/listening/viewing public are collectively far less likely to be interested in our "breakthrough- in-defense-of-the-West” sonar than in the activities (preferably reprehensible) of, say, one of its most junior, but colorful, operators.
People are news; things are not.
We must, in this context, resist the temptation to explore what is and is not newsworthy, merely reminding ourselves of two facts: first, the news story can be used as a vehicle for the information we desire to impart; second, and not so welcome, that the news- story by its very nature prefers the unexpected and unusual, and hence delights in the undignified, fantastic, and bizarre; none of which are highly thought of (officially at any rate) in the armed services.
All too often, what is news to the mediamen is
66 U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, July 1973
wormwood and gall to the serving officer. Too bad. The story—for that is what it is—is not being written for him or even to comply with his wishes, but for a reader who, dare we say, takes the whole defense business less seriously, applies different values (if, indeed, he applies any at all) and, luckily, forgets quickly. If we are to understand P.R., we must above all recognize this tremendous gap between the subject (ourselves and our doings) and the audience—detached, probably disinterested, and even initially hostile.
Basically, there are two kinds of news-stories for which P.R. can provide material, or help the mediamen in collecting it: those they are interested in anyway and those we wish to generate or encourage. The two can, of course, be combined, but let us consider their respective characteristics. If the mediamen are onto a story and wish to run it, we can at least be certain on one matter: they will run it, with or without our help. It is vital, therefore, that our case should not go by default. Just about the most fatuous remark that any P.R. man could make when questioned on an unflattering story that has already become public is a poker-faced "no comment.” The media may play down or even ignore our side, but it should at least be offered. Paradoxically, the worst situations call for the best P.R.
If, on the other hand, we ourselves are (hopefully) starting something, or encouraging something already underway, then the wider and better cover and material our P.R. can provide, the better chance of media interest. The operative word is "chance.” Another fact of media-life is the ever-shifting importance of this or that news story. If we miss, we try again, and again.
In either of the foregoing cases P.R. has to deliver, but, since its mission is "reputation enhancement,” it must also reconcile, as far as possible, the interests of the fighting service for which it is working with the appetite of the public as assessed (with accuracy) by the media. P.R. can be seen, therefore, not so much as a witness pledged to tell the truth and all of it, but as an advocate calling on those truthful witnesses that can present the Service case to the best advantage.
Conflict or understanding? The mediamen and ourselves in the fighting services work to different ends. Although these need not always be irreconcilable—a good story can also be good publicity—there is inevitably scope for friction and distrust. The better mediamen understand us to a degree that might surprise many; we should try to understand them.
Just like the rest of us, they have a job to do: to provide their editors or station managers with the stories that will sell the newspapers or the broadcasts. For these they need the truth. Only if they cannot find it—or if it is withheld from them—do they resort to guesswork. The use that they (and/or their editors) make
of this truth—which attractive parts they highlight and which inconvenient parts they discard—is of course another matter. We would be less than realistic if we tried to deny that the final story will almost always be slanted to conform with the prejudices and tastes of the readers/listeners/viewers at which it is aimed.
The media, above all, thrives on "disaster.” Perhaps this epitomizes the difference of interest. The pile- up/explosion/collision that we would wish forgotten as soon as possible, is splashed across the front page— with pictures. Disasters sell papers and, selling papers being the editor’s job, he would be of more than mortal rectitude if he passed up such material—he would also soon be looking for another less exacting position.
Thus, service P.R.’s job is to build a bridge between these two very different worlds: between the "factory” of the Service and the "market” of the media. Across this bridge it must maintain a steady flow of saleable, but quality, goods.
It is not too difficult to discover what is meant by P.R. in our present context and what it is trying to achieve; though to do so in precise and correct terms demands, as always, careful consideration. Likewise, it is fairly easy to suggest, in outline, how we should set about achieving our P.R. mission. What really is difficult, however, is to agree on just how important P.R. is—or should be—in the overall mission of a fighting Service of the West.
This last is, of course, the nub of the matter. And here we can do no more than express an opinion.
P.R., in the broad meaning given to it in this article, is not just one means of persuading people to think well of us at home and to respect us abroad; it is tht means. And, in the final countdown, what people—far and near—think about us, our country, and our alliance is what really matters.
The nature, mission, and means employed by P.R. are essentially the same whether the effort is being directed at a local paper or at the whole world. What seems to be lacking is the realization of the size of P.R.; it is concerned with what everyone thinks of us.
If, then, we accept these two premises, can there be much doubt about the answer to the final question?
How important is Service P.R.?
Commander Palmer writes on defense and maritime affairs. He joined the Royal Naval College, Dartmouth, in 1926, and retired as a commander in 1962. His World War II service included command of the destroyers Aldmham, Eglinton, and Zambesi, subsequently, during the Korean War, he was Executive Officer of the cruiser Ceylon (Korea). A graduate of the Royal Naval Staff College (1947) and an Instructor at the Royal Air Force Staff College (1947-49), he served at the Admiralty as Naval Assistant Chief of Naval Information (1956-62). From 1964 until 1970, he edited Nat) magazine, published by the British Navy League.