When the line stops working: Jacinta Allan’s crisis communications fail
By Mark Forbes
There is an old rule in politics that disunity is death, and it’s a rule Victorian Labor hopes will not prove true after the removal of Premier Jacinta Allan.
Allan was brought down not just by her colleagues, but by another rule of crisis communications, that a holding line has a shelf life.
For years, the Victorian Government’s response to allegations of corruption and criminal influence in the construction industry followed a familiar pattern.
There was ‘no evidence’ of criminal wrongdoing or corruption. Anyone with evidence should ‘take it to the police’. Don’t listen to the critics, just look at the delivery of rail lines, level crossing removals and the infrastructure delivered through Victoria’s ambitious Big Build.
As a short-term media response, it was understandable. Governments cannot launch an inquiry every time an allegation is made, and nor should they accept the premise of every hostile question. Far easier to deflect them and move on to your key talking points of the day, the media will move on.
But a crisis response cannot survive indefinitely on repetition alone if the crisis itself remains in public view.
Eventually, it stops sounding disciplined, starts sounding evasive and your crisis communications become a credibility problem in their own right.
Credibility versus reality
The most damaging aspect of a crisis is usually not the initial revelation, it’s the response, if failures aren’t acknowledged and steps to address them aren’t announced.
In Victoria, Jacinta Allen’s credibility gap widened with each new report, document and uncomfortable press conference.
She sorely underestimated the determination of Australia’s leading investigative reporter, Nick McKenzie, to follow the money, and the preparedness of The Age and 60 Minutes to back him.
Stories of violence, intimidation, bikies and a cost to taxpayers of $15 billion flowed on a weekly and at times daily basis. Melbourne’s most colorful underworld identity, Mick Gatto, appeared to have lucrative consultancies with most of the firms on the Big Build.
In recent weeks The Age began running on social media unedited and unedifying excerpts of Jacinta Allen dodging McKenzie’s questions, asking ‘what, what, what, what have you got Nick?” when he produced emails showing she was warned of the corruption as the minister responsible for the Big Build, but took no action.
Audiences see the hesitation. They hear the same phrase for the fifth time. They watch the spokesperson avoid the substance of the question. They compare the official response with the evidence appearing on their screens.
“Nothing to see here” is not a long-term strategy
The instinct to minimise is common in politics and business.
Leaders are advised not to inflame the story. They are warned against getting ahead of investigations. They are told that acknowledging the scale of a problem could expose the organisation to legal, regulatory or political risk.
But there is also risk in appearing incurious about serious allegations within your own orbit, of treating each revelation as an isolated media problem and assuming the story will eventually disappear.
A holding statement is supposed to buy time. It is not supposed to become the entire strategy.
Once an issue becomes sustained, the response has to evolve. That may mean an independent review, stronger disclosure, visible consequences, clearer acknowledgment of failures or a credible explanation of what will change.
Audiences begin to conclude that the organisation is more interested in managing the story than fixing the problem, and this is where trust starts to collapse.
The Royal Commission gamble
New Premier Ben Carroll has attempted to draw a line under the issue by announcing a Royal Commission, and stating “I am not Dan Andrews. I am not Jacinta Allan”.
Politically, the logic is obvious. It signals action. It creates distance from the previous approach. It allows the new leadership to say that the allegations will now be tested properly, and avoid awkward questions while the process is underway.
It is also high risk, Royal Commissions have real powers and an inconvenient habit of going where the evidence takes them.
Former premiers, ministers, and officials will find themselves called to explain what they knew, when they knew it and what they did about it.
There will be an element of theatre, and months of damaging headlines - although logistics and politics will ensure these come after November’s state election.
From a communications perspective, however, the decision reflects a basic reality: once the existing position becomes untenable, a dramatic reset is less dangerous than continuing to defend it.
When the sideshow becomes the lead
Then there was Bec Judd, socialite and wife of Brownlow medallist Chris Judd.
In a week involving the fall of a premier, allegations of corruption and the announcement of a Royal Commission, the Herald Sun led its website with Judd’s “blistering attack” on the new premier.
Only in Victoria could a political crisis of this scale require an AFL-adjacent angle.
Political authority is no longer confined to ministers, journalists and policy experts. Influencers, athletes, celebrities and prominent business figures can now command larger and more engaged audiences. And in Victoria the resentment over COVID lockdowns translated into an antipathy towards the Andrews and Allan Governments and vicious commentary from public figures.
Their intervention creates a ready-made story: recognisable faces, strong opinions, social engagement and a cultural dividing line tailor made for our social media age.
It means the stakeholder map is much wider than it used to be.
But ultimately it wasn’t these elite views that brought Jacinta Allan down, it was a stubborn belief that her lines would work while the entire state could see the emperor had no clothes.
ENDS
Mark Forbes is Director of Icon Reputation, a former editor of The Age and co-host of the crisis communications podcast and vodcast Up The Creek!.