Ethical Dilemmas in Crisis PR: When Morals and Reputation Collide
Crisis PR is a fascinating, high-stakes world where honesty should be the foundation—but not everyone gets the memo. Most people who reach out to me are genuinely overwhelmed, scared, and desperate to make things right. They’re truthful, even when it’s messy, and we work together to create a path forward.
But a small number of people? They lie. And while I can usually spot it during our first call, there have been a few times where I’ve been fooled.
The Red Flags I Can’t Ignore
Lying to your crisis PR professional is a terrible idea—and fortunately, I’m pretty good at spotting it. During our first call, I ask a lot of questions, and I’m listening for more than just their answers. Inconsistencies in timelines, evasive responses, or overly rehearsed stories stand out.
Most of the time, I can tell when someone’s not being upfront. When I do, I politely decline to work with them. It’s not worth risking my reputation—or theirs—on a foundation built on lies.
But occasionally, someone gets past me. They’re convincing, emotional, and their story seems watertight. I take them on, only to discover later that things don’t add up.
When I’ve Been Fooled
Some people are very good at spinning their own narrative. I once had a client who broke down during our first call, swearing they’d been unjustly “cancelled” over a misunderstanding. They were in tears, detailing how their family was suffering and how their career was on the brink of collapse.
I believed them. I started working on a plan to help. But as I dug deeper, inconsistencies began to surface. Timelines didn’t match. Screenshots they provided seemed edited. Eventually, I uncovered evidence that contradicted everything they’d told me.
The worst part? They doubled down on their lies, hoping I’d keep working with them. Needless to say, I didn’t.
Why People Lie
People lie for all sorts of reasons—fear, desperation, sheer panic about the consequences. And let’s not forget embarrassment. Most of my clients are deeply ashamed of whatever situation they’ve found themselves in, and it’s understandable. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.
Sometimes, they’re mortified to even admit the truth out loud. They’ve built the situation up in their minds as something so damning that it feels easier to tell me half-truths and hope I’ll make it all go away.
But here’s the thing: we’re having a confidential, NDA-protected conversation. This is the safest space you’re going to get. Come clean. Tell me the truth. Not only will it help me figure out how to navigate the situation, but it’ll also help you. Once the truth is on the table, the stress of hiding it disappears, and we can work on moving forward.
The Stress of Hiding the Truth
Clients often underestimate how much more stressful it is to hide the truth. When someone lies—or omits key details—they’re constantly waiting for the next blow. The journalist who digs deeper, the ex-employee who speaks up, the fan with screenshots at the ready. It’s exhausting.
I’ve had clients admit their secrets after weeks of working together, often in a panic when something they’ve hidden resurfaces. The relief they feel when they finally come clean is palpable. Once the truth is out in the open, we can finally create a plan that works—one that doesn’t hinge on a crumbling foundation.
When Clients Ask for Too Much
Let’s circle back to the DM-cleaning request. One client wasn’t just panicking about a single message—they were worried about an entire thread of back-and-forth arguments, including threats they’d sent. Their solution? “Can’t you just delete them before anyone sees?”
The answer? No. Crisis PR isn’t about erasing the past; it’s about addressing it head-on. And honestly, deleting something doesn’t make it disappear. People screenshot, archive, and share faster than you can say “damage control.”
This kind of request isn’t unusual, but it highlights a fundamental misunderstanding of what crisis PR is. My job isn’t to rewrite history—it’s to help clients navigate their present and future with transparency and accountability.
Cancel Culture and the Power of Perception
Cancel culture thrives on half-told stories and out-of-context moments. People are often condemned based on a soundbite or a single screenshot. That’s why I always start by hearing a client’s side first, without judgment. I don’t read the headlines or Twitter threads before our initial call because I want to give them the chance to tell their story in their own words.
But—and this is crucial—that only works if they’re honest. If they hold back or lie, it’s impossible to craft a strategy that stands up to scrutiny.
When the Truth Works in Your Favour
The irony? The truth, as messy as it might be, is often easier to work with than a lie. I’ve had clients who came clean about past mistakes—apologies, accountability, the whole nine yards—and we’ve been able to rebuild their reputation stronger than before.
One client, for instance, owned up to an embarrassing moment from years ago that had resurfaced online. Rather than trying to deny or downplay it, we leaned into the truth, issuing a heartfelt statement that resonated with their audience. The backlash subsided, and they came out looking better for their honesty.
My Non-Negotiables
Every client who works with me knows the ground rules:
1. Be honest. If I can’t trust you, I can’t help you.
2. Don’t ask me to cover up illegal or unethical behaviour. Deleting threats, faking evidence, or fabricating stories isn’t just wrong—it’s ineffective.
3. Let me assess the damage. Sometimes, clients don’t even know the full scope of what’s out there. But with their permission, I’ll help them understand what we’re up against.
Crisis PR is about more than damage control—it’s about navigating the truth, no matter how messy. My job is to help clients face the storm, not pretend it doesn’t exist. If you’re willing to be honest, I’ll fight tooth and nail for you. But if you’re not? The internet will do what it does best: expose everything you’re trying to hide.
Trust me, it’s always better to come clean. The truth might sting, but it’s far less painful than the fallout of a lie. And once it’s out there, you can finally stop looking over your shoulder—and start moving forward.