There is much to be written about the many reputations damaged by the revelations of Jimmy Savile’s abusive character and behaviour.

The BBC was slow to respond, wielded the wrong spokesperson (it was a serious enough allegation for the chairman of the BBC Trust, Chris Patten, not director general George Entwhistle, to have been the first to speak), and took too long to announce an independent enquiry. The police repeatedly hid behind what they considered to be not enough evidence (should they not have co-ordinated the complaints and tried to gather more evidence?). Esther Rantzen demonstrated breathtaking naivety, both in her inaction when rumours emerged years ago and, when the story broke, in making excuses for that inaction (having set up Childline specifically to tackle child abuse, she of all people ought to have had the nouse to know that rumours of child abuse should be explored beyond the cursory). They and leaders at Stoke Mandeville Hospital, Broadmoor Hospital, the Duncroft Approved School for Girls in Surrey, Leeds General Hospital, plus many individuals who asked Jimmy Savile about the rumours, all considered his dismissive answers enough. All of them fell victim to Jimmy  Savile’s manipulative persuasiveness but should have known better.

Which gets to the heart of how Jimmy Savile got away with what now appears to be 60 years of child abuse. He had charisma.

It is irrelevant whether that charisma was due to his extremely unusual character, extraordinary flamboyance, exaggerated confidence, limitless high energy or remarkable knack for raising funds for causes that pulled at others’ heart strings. All that matters is that he had it. And that no-one in authority knew how to manage it.

Research shows that when people are in the presence of someone with charisma, their brain deactivates the area of the brain that allows us to be sceptical. We suspend disbelief, become more open to persuasion, are more easily led, fail to challenge. Charisma can be used positively, of course – Nelson Mandela, for example. It is dangerous when it is used negatively – leaders of cults are usually powerfully charismatic. And so was Jimmy Savile. He certainly did fix it – duping those who should not be dupable, so he could continue abusing, decade after decade.

Business leaders need to understand charisma and the compelling power that charismatic people have – and take steps to ensure that people with charisma use it appropriately. They need not only to spot people with charisma but also to train them to use their charisma benevolently. And they need to train others to be aware of the effects of charisma on them, and on others, so no-one falls inappropriately under someone’s spell, causing a reputation crisis.

The public debates still rage about whether deputy prime minister Nick Clegg ought to have apologised for making a pledge he didn’t keep about tuition fees – and whether chief whip Andrew Mitchell described the police as “plebs” when he was asked to cycle through a side gate, rather than the main gate, at Downing Street.

Let’s leave aside the distractions drummed up by the media – whether Nick Clegg ought to have apologised for not keeping his promise (rather than for making a promise he was not certain he could keep – it’s a subtle distinction) and what exactly Andrew Mitchell has apologised for – and focus on the effects of their apologies.

They used very different tactics. Nick Clegg stood in front of a camera and used a party political broadcast to speak direct to millions. Andrew Mitchell talked on the phone to the policeman he swore at and issued a statement for journalists to pass on to the public. Assuming that both Nick Clegg and Andrew Mitchell hoped to limit the damage to their reputations, neither apology worked. Why?

It’s easy to see why Andrew Mitchell’s initial apology failed. First, being visible when apologising is almost always essential, even more so if you hold high office. If you can’t be seen while you are communicating, the assumption will be that you have something to hide. Secondly, according to press reports (which, as everyone knows, might not be accurate) his public statement appears to have been not wholly true. Having first said he did not accept that he “used any of the words that have been reported”, he apparently later admitted saying “fucking” though he continues to deny saying “plebs”. His statement this morning – a second failed attempt to close down the story – leaves the issue just as wide open; he said: “I want to make it absolutely clear that I did not use the words that have been attributed to me”. On being pressed about whether he swore, he said he was going to go in and get on with his work, pursued by journalists wanting a full answer to a simple question: what did he say?

If you’ve done something wrong, admit it – fast and in full. Holding back information that might emerge later is a short-term quick-fix high-risk strategy. The facts almost always come out – no matter how powerful or above the law you believe you are and especially when, as in this case, others were present or involved in the incident. Getting all the bad news out in one go at the start curtails speculation, clarifies the picture, controls the debate, clears the air and allows you to start working on rebuilding your reputation. A drip, drip, drip approach to communication causes far more damage – the original misdemeanour will be repeated every time new information ekes out, and the voices of your detractors will become louder and more persuasive. No surprise that it generated strong opinions on Twitter – and raked up earlier examples of arrogance and unflattering nicknames.

In Nick Clegg’s case, it was not the judicious-for-him timing or the somewhat naïve wording of his statement that turned his apology into a crisis. It was his facial expressions and forced vocal emphasis; they did not seem genuine. His face often lacks movement so to see his eyebrows lurching up and down at judicious moments and his head tilting as if to emphasise sincerity, appeared unnatural. I wondered if he’d been practising in front of a mirror, acting and speaking in a way he thought would look and sound right, rather than behaving normally. Apologies must be honest and truthful – which includes being true to yourself, not creating a pastiche or caricature. No wonder it spawned a spoof video on YouTube.

Two politicians, two crises, two apologies – both generating strong criticism and long-running debates. Even allowing for the fact that they occurred at sensitive times (for Nick Clegg it was the Liberal Democrat party conference and a need to prevent a leadership challenge – also the perfect springboard, in an ironic twist, for him to urge Andrew Mitchell to come clean); for Andrew Mitchell it was the tragic murder of two women PCs) neither needed to get so out of hand.

“Poor AWT” seems to be the universal response to the news that restaurateur and celebrity chef Anthony Worrall Thompson was arrested, then cautioned, last Friday for shoplifting. I’m not sure we’d have had an automatically sympathetic reaction to his plight – if he hadn’t responded in the way he did. For the most part, he got the initial stages of his crisis management right.  He:

• apologised for the misdemeanour and his apology seemed genuine and personal, without resorting to manipulative, emotional heart-string-pulling;
• recognised that he’s let down his family and friends;
• said he will seek treatment – the implication being that he wants to stop it happening again;
• apologised to Tesco;
• got his statement out – and up on his website – speedily, avoiding speculative stories that might have turned his drama into a full-blown, long-lasting crisis; and
• said he will try to make amends.

But has it done the trick – or is he in the soup?

It’s too early to say – as is always the case so soon after the emergence of any crisis. Will other retailers come forward and say he shoplifted from them? Will colleagues say he was light-fingered when visiting their restaurants (half-inching cutlery from the table, perhaps)? Will Tesco reveal that the cheese and wine he stole were the most expensive (good taste or greedy cheek) or the cheapest (bad taste or very sad)?

Which raises an interesting point. He has not said whether he has now paid the store for his stolen goods. In most crises involving money (fiddling expenses, fraud) repayment as reparation must be done to rebuild your reputation.

There is another aspect of his statement that misses the mark. He says he will seek the treatment “that is clearly needed”. Any therapist might pick at his wording: wanting to hear him say “that I need”, recognising that he owns the problem and its solution. Crisis management specialists might also nit-pick similarly: taking full responsibility is also a golden rule when dealing with a business crises. It seems, though, that we can forgive him – the majority of people seem to realise that his shoplifting was a symptom of a mental health issue.

So, has he saved his reputation?

Most news reports are factual – short summaries, without comments from others. Good news. BBC Radio 4′s PM programme interviewed a psychiatrist who said it could be driven by mental illness (causing low self-esteem or a need to feel in control). Good news. Twitter listed his name as trending – an exaggeration for 23 Tweets, most simply announcing the story; three or so making lighthearted jokes (Ready Steady Crook, he throws a hell of a wine and cheese party); and a couple linking to a jokey story about AWT setting up a cheese and wine business with Richard Madeley (wrongly accused three years ago of shoplifting champagne in, er, Tesco). Certainly not bad news. A few bloggers were swift to say that he’s a crook who has been treated differently because of his class – but the story didn’t have traction and fizzled out.  Not good news; lucky; it could have fuelled the story.  He has since given a candid interview to The Express which has treated him sympathetically. Good news.

Getting your response right from the start minimises the damage that could be done to your reputation – and that means being well-prepared, or prepared to act very fast indeed, to avoid speculation and unhelpful comments including on social media. If you are not prone to wearing your heart on your sleeve, making the leap from wanting to run and hide to full disclosure can be difficult to do – if you have not planned for a crisis.

The news about News International gets worse by the day – so the crisis is nipping along nicely, as we’d all expected, and continues to be wholly outside the control of News International and the Murdochs. It’s the worst possible situation to be in.  And the Murdochs have only themselves to blame.

On Wednesday this week (2nd November) The Independent published new evidence that confirmed what we all suspected. James Murdoch was significantly economical with the truth when he was cross-examined by members of the House of Commons culture, media and sport select committee in July. He had indeed been warned about phone hacking at the News of the World and its implications but, instead of taking the only course that works – admitting it, apologising for not acting earlier, pledging not to let it happen again, and keeping his promise – he fell back on what he, I suspect, thought was a clever dodge that would let him off the hook: a selective loss of memory. He claimed he did “not recall” being briefed. He is not the first person caught in a crisis who has tried this tactic as an excuse for not taking responsibility. And he is not the first person to find it doesn’t work.

It doesn’t work because it shows two things: that you can’t be trusted (which will inevitably imply that the business can’t be trusted) and that you are not up to the job (powers of recall are essential in business, particularly if you have been told that something is “fatal to our case” and that the business’s position is “very perilous”). More importantly, it simply is not convincing. It is a euphemism for lying.

As every crisis management expert will tell you, lies – blatant lies or lies dressed up as artful dodges – will always come back to haunt you. Someone somewhere will be digging away trying to expose the truth and it will be found.

Lying is a desperate measure. People lie in everyday life – usually without thinking through the consequences – to get themselves out of sticky situations (and find it doesn’t work). In a crisis there is no room for acting without thinking through the consequences. You need to be considered, dispassionate, objective, thoughtful – and take a long view. That view is what is best for the business’s reputation for the long term – what you must do to minimise damage to it and allow you to rebuild it. There will be costs along the way (though, if you follow the rules, they ought not to be at the catastrophic level faced by News International) and you must pay them as they arise. There is no scope for a hire purchase approach when protecting a reputation. Buy now, pay later might be appropriate if you need a sofa but in a crisis, as James Murdoch has found out, it’s lie now – and you will pay later.

It will be fascinating to see if he comes clean – or continues to dodge – when he appears in front of the select committee next Thursday.

Every business – yes, every business of whatever size – should have a crisis management plan. Part of that plan should be what happens if the boss (or the business innovator or, indeed, the holder of any post on which the future of the business depends) becomes ill or dies.  Death in service is not an issue to be considered only from an employee’s pension policy point of view. Nor is it just about keeping the organisation running for the short term – keeping the lights on, the door open, the phones working, the computers running, the orders coming in and the products and services flowing out – while a successor is found.

When an employee, in whatever role, has a massive impact on the success of the business, having a succession plan is essential. Who will lead the organisation through the turbulence and beyond – keeping staff committed, customers confident, suppliers confirming orders? Who, in the case of a business that is a market leader known for its groundbreaking products, will be responsible for driving innovation?

Mitigating for those extreme circumstances takes courage. Talking about someone’s death, particularly in their presence and when the risk looms, is a tough task. But it must not be shirked out of sensitivity or fear.

In the case of Apple and Steve Jobs, who died last Wednesday (5th October), the succession planning task was exceptionally difficult. Someone so focussed, so committed, so fixed on a business is very hard to replace. Steve Jobs was a one-off. There will, of course, be other one-offs – but their one-offness will be different and it might take years to find him or her. Another option, then, is to innovate ahead. That is why Steve Jobs left four years’ of new products waiting to be developed and launched. Apple was his life – so much so that he sanctioned an official biography so his children could know him and understand why he worked so intensely. It was natural for him to want to ensure Apple’s future.

Looking ahead – in so many dimensions – was what Steve Jobs did all the time. He clearly wanted to buy time for Apple by leaving it able to continue rolling out new products during the succession gap, to ensure its future for as long as he could. Replacing him will not be easy.

In the right tone

There is another smaller (for Apple) but fundamental (for many businesses) aspect that Apple got right. Businesses which face events that have an impact on others’ lives (such as deaths), or their own success, should be prepared for an instant change to their website. Airlines are well ahead of most businesses – with ready-to-launch dark sites to replace their usual websites. After all, if a plane crash results in multiple deaths, it is not appropriate for the home page to advertise holidays or display photos of people laughing with joy as they run through sunkissed surf.

What that dark site should contain depends on the business. In Apple’s case after Steve Jobs’ death, there were several options. What it has chosen could not be more effective or more appropriate. In Apple’s typical sleek, clear, sharply-focussed trademark way its home page is a simple tribute: a photograph of Steve Jobs, his name and his life span. There is no need for a detailed obituary. This home page says it all.

Apple tribute to Steve Jobs - no words needed

Apple has, yet again, shown exemplary crisis management planning and response. All businesses should take note.

We’ve been waiting for more “devastating new evidence” in the News of the World, News International and News Corp phone-hacking scandal and today some of it came. It emphasises three points that every reputation management or crisis management specialist knows and advises: confidentiality agreements do not guarantee confidentiality; the truth will always emerge; and you should come clean with your advisers (reputation managers, press office, lawyers) at the start – giving limited information or setting a narrow remit means you won’t get the advice you need.

Written evidence, to the House of Commons select committee that is investigating the phone-hacking scandal, includes a letter from Clive Goodman, the News of the World royal reporter who was jailed for phone-hacking. Previous evidence has attempted to show that he was a rogue reporter; phone-hacking was not widespread; the editors (Rebekah Brooks, Andy Coulson, Colin Myler) did not know about it. Now his letters reveal that phone-hacking was widespread – and that it was discussed in the paper’s daily editorial conferences. Seeking to defend their reputation, the paper’s lawyers Harbottle & Lewis, have said they were not fully briefed and only advised on a very narrow aspect. That’s a triple-whammy of crisis management misdeeds.

Meanwhile, we all had our suspicions; we’ve all been waiting to be proved right; there was a conspiracy of silence – and we now have evidence of it.

If you believe you need to rely on a confidentiality agreement to protect your reputation, you are on dangerous, shifting sand. There is no such thing as confidentiality if others, or you, later have to defend your actions to preserve, or limit damage to, your reputation.

Similarly, if you have to redact (the current vernacular for block) information in evidence you can be sure that all you are doing is drawing attention to the fact that you are hiding something. Someone will dig deep to find out what you are keeping secret and why – and tell of their findings.

Seeking confidentiality is a desperate measure. Being open, honest and transparent is the only way to limit the damage to your reputation that your secrecy might cause.

When the game is up, and you are at risk of your attempted cover-up being exposed, it is time to wave a white flag – confess, reveal all, apologise, promise not to make the same mistake, and take actions to ensure you don’t.

We are still waiting for the Murdochs, Rebekah Brooks, Andy Coulson and Colin Myler to see common sense. And I can’t be the only one waiting for more devastating revelations …

The Association of Chief Police Officers (Acpo)’s knee-jerk objection to the news that the prime minister has invited a US expert to give advice on tackling gang culture raises an important aspect of good crisis management – the need to consult specialists.

The police force and its leaders are, inevitably, feeling sensitive and demoralised. They have had to cope with two significant resignations over phone hacking at the News of the World; the pressure of responding to the recent riots; the IPCC’s initial findings during its review of their actions in relation to the death of Mark Duggan (which led to the riots); and being attacked verbally, physically and reputationally. No wonder they feel vulnerable.

But this is no time to let your emotions get the better of you, personally or corporately. Like any organisation in good times, the police force is not perfect. There is scope for improvement and retreating into a bunker of self-protection is not good enough. Like any organisation in crisis, it has a choice: fight or flight. Objecting to gaining information from another country’s experience is the equivalent of flight.

As for Sir Hugh Orde’s criticism that seeking advice from US police expert Bill Bratton can be discredited because the US still has 400 gangs, this not only sounds desperately defensive; it also illustrates the danger of playing the numbers game. What is the proportion of US gangs in relation to its size, compared with the number of gangs here in relation to our size?  And how do you count the number of gangs anyway – when they seem to merge, disband or reform in a somewhat fluid way depending on the charisma of their leaders, the opportunities, the reasons, the motives, the mood, the triggers. The US is bound to have more gangs than us but it doesn’t necessarily show that the US police is ineffective; it could just as easily show how much more experience the US police has of tackling gang culture.

In short, the police force should have invited advice from others in similar situations – not left it to the government to take action. It should now welcome that move.

In the immediate aftermath of a crisis, it is very easy for any organisation, business or individual to retreat from potential criticism, to hide from the spotlight and to look inwards for ideas and direction. Discussion must take place internally (about what went right, what went wrong and what could have been done better – against your crisis management plan and the options you considered as the crisis unfolded) but if you only consult internally, you will only gain a narrow, limited – and potentially over-cautious, self-interested, self-supporting and self-serving – perspective. You need to look broadly and consider numerous options – for urgent or immediate actions, for ways of minimising and mitigating risks, and for devising a longer-term strategy. You must look at it in relation to others’ crises – as experienced by those others.

Let’s remember that the benchmark-setting Chilean government consulted NASA not on how to get the miners out of a tight spot – but how to help them survive for a long time in one. NASA, which has been dealing with that challenge since the late 1950s, was bound to have some valuable insights and experiences. Consulting it was both inspired and expedient. Consulting Bratton is more obvious than inspired – but just as expedient.

A word of warning: it is just as important not to over-consult. It is tempting to ask everyone for a view but, in the early phase of a crisis, you need to make good decisions fast. Consult a small core group – those essential to running the crisis and protecting the organisation’s reputation plus involved specialists. Leave wider consultation, particularly internally, till later. Yes, someone must listen to the ground to gauge opinion – and report on it – but during the initial phase of a crisis leaders must assume a command and control approach. As the organisation moves into recovery – and reviewing its crisis plan – consulting more widely makes sense. At that point, if not earlier, it never makes sense to turn down the chance to benefit from others’ experiences and hindsight.

The riots in London, Birmingham, Bristol, Manchester, Nottingham, Leeds and Liverpool have catapulted England into the spotlight around the world. Much talk has been about the timing – potentially disastrous, a year before the Olympics when England wants the world to visit – demonstrating how damaging, and far-reaching, the impact of a crisis can be.

The riots also occurred a little under a year before London’s mayoral election – opening up disagreements, on cuts to the police budget, between the Conservative government (struggling to balance the books) and the Conservative mayor for London Boris Johnson (seeking re-election) – and giving the Labour party (seeking to oust Boris Johnson) the best opportunity to turn the police cuts into an even hotter political topic.

One contentious issue (long-standing shortcomings in policing) led to a crisis (the riots) which created another (the risk to the Olympics) and another (jeopardising the outcome of an election).

And then prime minister David Cameron committed a crisis management sin. He over-promised.

Speaking in the House of Commons today, having recalled Parliament which was in recess for the summer, he said the government would “do whatever it takes to restore law and order and to rebuild communities”. A tall order but fair enough. He hasn’t set a time limit; he hasn’t specified how – he has not boxed himself in.

His words to “the lawless minority, the criminals who’ve taken what they can get” have created a problem.  He said, “We will track you down, we will find you, we will charge you, we will punish you. You will pay for what you have done.”

How on earth is he going to ensure that? Yes, some rioters and looters were arrested immediately and have already appeared in court (in a process that has been described as chaotic and over-stretched … in short, that’s another crisis). But the others – the people who might have been caught on CCTV cameras or mobile phones but who skidaddled at speed, and those who escaped being captured on camera and in person – can he guarantee they will all be tracked down, found, charged and punished? Of course not.

While the public might not hold him to account on these promises (though it is a risk, particularly if there are more civil disruptions) you can be sure that many of those who are not tracked down, found, charged and punished will gloat about their ability to evade the law. They might become local heroes and they might incite others to take part in lawless behaviour. One over-promise; one almighty crisis waiting to happen.

Demonstrating control and saying what you will do to prevent the occurrence from happening again are essential aspects of crisis management. So is then making sure you do what you said you would do.

David Cameron cannot fulfill his promise – and has exposed himself, his party and the government to new risks that could lead to another crisis… as if he did not already have plenty to grapple with.

As the News of the World/News International phone-hacking scandal continues to rock our sensibilities, Rebekah Brooks keeps on behaving as if she were covered in vaseline. With every revelation so far, she has expressed shock or outrage.

Yesterday, in response to the discovery that phone-hacker Glenn Mulcaire had Sara Payne’s mobile phone number on his hacking list, she said it was “abhorrent”, “unthinkable” and “beyond my comprehension”. Not once has she said anything to indicate she takes responsibility for wrongdoings while she was editor of the News of the World or while she was chief executive of News International.

The more we see and hear of her, the more we wonder how she hit such heights – and how she captivated Rupert Murdoch’s support so strongly that he wanted to make looking after her his priority when the crisis neared its peak.

When she appeared before the House of Commons culture, media and sport committee her answers were far from complete; many of them were oddly inarticulate for someone whose job it is to string words together to make a story. Like the Murdochs, she was over-rehearsed, under-briefed and unconvincing. She was behaving as if the whole thing were, er, beyond her comprehension.

It is beyond our comprehension that an editor would not want to set the tone and introduce policies of his or her own. It is unthinkable that the head of the paper’s parent company wouldn’t also want to set an overall tone and policy guidelines for the group. Yet, Rebecca Brooks says she didn’t know what her staff were up to when she was editor – and she didn’t know what her editors were up to when she was chief executive. And that’s exactly what Murdoch wanted: someone whose comprehension skills were so low that they would never question him.

Rupert Murdoch pushed Rebekah Brooks up his corporate ladder because she was, and still is, a yes-man. And now, when the public wants someone at the News of the World, and News International, to take responsibility, to take the blame and to express genuine contrition, she is incapable of it because she was not in charge – of either brief.

Crisis management is all about saving reputations. A golden rule is to take responsibility – and at the highest level appropriate to the crisis. In this case, it is for Rebekah Brooks to do.

Meanwhile, Tory MP Louise Mensch has been accused of taking drugs with violinist Nigel Kennedy while in her 20s and living it up as an EMI employee. We’ve been here before but the twist this time is not whether or not she inhaled; it is that she is on the Commons committee that interviewed the Murdochs and Rebekah Brooks about their roles in the phone-hacking saga.

It’s another example (as with Andrew Marr’s super-injunction) of exposing others’ wrong doings while concealing your own. Except that instead of denying it (you’ll always be found out) or not saying anything (always a sign you have something to hide) Louise Mensch responded immediately and said that, while she couldn’t remember the precise occasion, it was “highly probable” that she did take drugs with Kennedy.

By taking responsibility, and telling the truth, Louise Mensch is far more likely to survive her crisis and regain her credibility than Rebekah Brooks who insists she is blame-free – but has already lost her job (though, as seems typical for News International, she might still be on the payroll) and seems unemployable outside the Murdoch empire.

If you are at the top, you must take responsibility. Your own, and your business’s, survival depend on it.

Rebekah Brooks took far too long to realise that the only option left open to her to protect her reputation (such as it now is) and, more importantly, News International’s reputation (such as it now is) was for her to resign. She might have had “total” support from Rupert Murdoch six days ago but there was little evidence of support outside the murky Murdoch world and it is always the outside view that counts for more.

It was not only crisis management experts who were aghast at her brazen attitude by clinging on, not to mention their brazen attitude by holding a surreal walkabout in an attempt to show that they were all in this together. We knew they were all in this together – up to their necks in it together – but it was not the togetherness that mattered. It was the subject – and the public was aghast at their arrogant attempts at toughing it out.

When crisis management gets to the point where you think the right thing to do is to tough it out – it’s not. It’s time to bow out – because you have made the wrong thing (you) the focus. If the crisis affects the business, it is the business’s reputation, not yours, that matters.

So, when should Rebekah Brooks have resigned?

She was not editor of the News of the World when, in 2005, Clive Goodman, the News of the World’s royal editor, and Glenn Mulcaire, private investigator, were arrested for illegally phone hacking Prince William’s phone. Nor was she editor of the News of the World when, in 2007, Goodman and Mulcaire were jailed. She was editor of The Sun. She was promoted to chief executive of News International on 1st Sepember 2009 at which point she became responsible, overall, for all the newspapers in the News International group. Phone hacking must have been on her agenda as a topic of concern; she should immediately have ordered, and announced, a clean sweep through all News International’s policies and set new standards.

When, in February 2010, the House of Commons culture, media and sport committee said it thought it inconceivable that no-one other than Clive Goodman knew about phone hacking at the News of the World, Rebekah Brooks should have announced that she had taken action to find out what exactly was going on and act on her findings. You can’t be at the top and ignore what is going on – even if the allegations apply to a time when you were not associated with the News of the World. It is now, and the future, that matter.

New allegations emerged in September 2010; Scotland Yard reopened its inquiry and the story began to snowball. The spotlight fell on Andy Coulson more than on Rebekah Brooks – but what was she up to, as chief executive? Instigating changes? Apologising? Or just hanging on?

In April 2011 News International apologised to some of those whose phones were hacked – and set aside a £15m fund for compensation claims. Resigning now, allowing a new chief executive to clear things up, would have meant a short, sharp burst of publicity followed by recovery. But she hung on.

On 4th July, The Guardian alleged that the News of the World hacked into Milly Dowler’s phone when Rebekah Brooks was editor of the News of the World. And what was her reaction? To shift blame by saying that she was on holiday. Astonishing. It did not wash. If you are in charge, you take responsibility whether you are working at your desk or paddling in the sea. It is your policy and your approach which are being followed – wherever you are. And if it is going on behind your back, all the public can conclude is that you are a weak and ineffective leader. You must go.

Arguing that you need to stay to oversee the clean up operation – otherwise known as doing a Willie Walsh – is short-term desperation that has nothing to do with saving the business; it is about saving you. Rebekah Brooks’ stance was indefensible as chief executive; it did even more damage to her own reputation, News of the World’s reputation, and News International’s reputation. It was clear that she was not up to the job. But still she hung on.

Hanging on is almost always a sign of ego getting in the way of business sense. If you want to limit the damage of a crisis, the time to resign is the minute it begins to affect the reputation of the business (or your own, if it is a personal crisis). Hanging on only prolongs the agony by highlighting wrongdoings (more claims, more criticism from public figures including prime minister David Cameron, the FBI, a major shareholder); increasing risks to other aspects of the business (BSkyB, ownership of other News International titles, US titles, other titles around the world); and sends costs spiralling – and not just the cost of flying in from afar, time spent at meetings and advertisements to say sorry and we won’t do it again, it is the costs-to-come of repairing a now much more seriously damaged reputation: Rebekah Brooks’ reputation, News International’s reputation, News Corp’s reputation, Rupert Murdoch’s reputation, James Murdoch’s reputation and, inevitably, the reputation of the entire British press.

Ironically, we might end up thanking Rebekah Brooks for hanging on while doing nothing at News International and inadvertently tackling tabloid tactics.