The Myth of Neutrality: When Silence Becomes Neglect

I have never been especially persuaded by the idea that silence is neutral. Sometimes silence is strategic. Sometimes there's really nothing useful to say yet, and saying something just because people expect a response can make a situation worse. I understand all of that. What I do not understand is the idea that saying nothing somehow removes an organization from the communication taking place around it. Silence is still something you are doing, and other people will decide what it means.

This comes up constantly in public-sector communications because there is a legitimate concern about appearing political, defensive, emotional, or reactive. The safest answer from inside the organization can seem to be: stick to the facts, do not engage, and wait for things to settle down. The problem is that everyone outside the organization is still talking while you wait. They fill in what hasn't been explained, assign motives, repeat bits of information that may or may not be correct, and try to make sense of what they can see. Human beings are very good at making a complete story out of incomplete information. Whether the story is accurate is another matter.

By the time someone decides it is finally safe to respond, there may be two problems instead of one. There is whatever happened in the first place, and then there is the explanation of what happened that has been developing without you. Once that second thing takes hold, correcting it is much harder. You are no longer just putting information into the world. You are asking people to reconsider something they have already decided they understand.

I have seen this happen in a way that will stay with me forever. I once worked with a leader who was generally well-liked but was eventually terminated, in large part, because she did not act when action was required. At the time, many people saw her as a casualty of the controversial administration around her. What got lost was that some of that controversy was worsened by her own inaction. Her failure to act disappeared into the larger story and helped turn her into a victim of it. She was not seen as someone who had failed to do the job so much as someone caught in the politics of the people above her. Later, she returned to the same position under different leadership, and the pattern did not change. She could still say very little, explain very little, and leave very little on the record. The difference was that this time, the criticism was not simply left unanswered. The comments were turned off.

I cannot say what her motives are because I am not inside her head. Under the previous administration, she did not step in to control the criticism, even when it was loud and public. Now she is willing to intervene, not by explaining more, correcting the record, or answering the criticism, but by removing the audience’s ability to respond. That is a meaningful difference. The inaction remains when it comes to explanation and accountability. What has changed is the willingness to act when the thing being managed is the public itself.

That is where the idea of neutrality becomes slippery for me. There is an obvious difference between correcting a factual record and engaging in political advocacy, but organizations sometimes behave as though any forceful correction risks crossing that line. I do not think it does. If something being repeated publicly is false, saying that it is false and showing why is not inherently aggressive. It may be uncomfortable. Someone may accuse you of having an agenda. That does not make the underlying information less true.

Facts are not self-executing. They do not wander into the room on their own and arrange themselves into the correct understanding of an event. Somebody has to explain what happened. Somebody has to distinguish what is known from what is assumed. If the people with the best information decide that saying nothing is the most neutral option, then the job of explaining reality simply passes to people with less information.

That does not mean every situation requires a ten-paragraph statement within fifteen minutes. Often the first useful communication is very small. Say what you know, say what you do not know yet, explain what you are doing, and tell people when you expect to have more. Holding statements exist for a reason. They buy time without pretending nothing is happening. More importantly, they acknowledge that the people affected by a situation are entitled to some understanding of what is going on while the rest of the information is still being worked out.

The language used when that explanation finally comes matters too. “We underestimated demand” and “Due to unexpectedly high demand” describe roughly the same event, but they do not say the same thing. The first sentence tells me that someone made a judgment and got it wrong. The second makes demand sound like a thunderstorm that rolled in unexpectedly and inconvenienced everyone. Organizations use language like that all the time because it feels safer. I am not convinced the reader experiences it that way. People know when a sentence has been built to avoid the interesting part.

That is also why I think we use the word transparency much too easily. Publishing information and being transparent are not necessarily the same thing. An organization can release an enormous amount of technically accurate information and still leave people without any real understanding of what happened. Transparency requires context. The person receiving the information should be able to make sense of the event without reconstructing half of it from screenshots, rumors, meeting clips, anonymous Facebook posts, and whatever somebody's cousin heard from someone who supposedly works there.

More importantly, transparency means letting people reach their own conclusions. That part gets lost sometimes because communications is treated as if its purpose is to produce the correct public reaction. It is not. People are allowed to look at accurate information and decide that leadership handled something badly. They are allowed to remain angry after reading the explanation. They are allowed to disagree with the decision. The responsibility is to give them a fair opportunity to understand what they are judging.

This is probably why silence can feel so different depending on which side of it you are standing. Inside an organization, saying nothing can feel disciplined. Nobody has created a new headline. Nobody has made an imperfect statement that will have to be defended later. Everyone is being very careful. From outside, the same silence can look evasive, arrogant, political, incompetent, frightened, or simply bizarre. The organization believes it has avoided making a statement, while the audience has been interpreting the absence as a statement the entire time.

Sometimes the facts will make an organization look bad. That is not a communications failure. Sometimes somebody made a mistake. Sometimes a decision was poor. Sometimes people are angry because there is a good reason to be angry. In those moments, the temptation is to believe that careful enough language, or enough time, can somehow remove the unpleasant part of the situation. Usually it cannot. What excessive caution can do is create a second question about why everyone is working so hard to avoid saying the obvious thing.

None of this means an organization can control how people see it. That is impossible, and trying to achieve it is where a lot of bad communications begins. You cannot control every interpretation, accusation, rumor, comment, political motive, or person who has decided before you speak that you are lying. What you can control is whether accurate information has a place in the conversation. You can give the people who are still trying to understand what happened something better to work with than a vacuum.

That is ultimately why I do not see neutrality as a shield. In some circumstances, it is simply a decision to surrender the explanation to everybody else. Silence still communicates. The only difference is that you have considerably less say in what it ends up meaning.

And once the vacuum has been filled, getting the truth back into it is much harder than putting it there in the first place.

Frances Eugenia Collazo

Frances Eugenia Collazo is a strategic communicator, creative director, writer, and founder of Frances Eugenia Design.

http://www.franceseugenia.com
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