Crisis Talk

Arat’s head found in cafeteria food might have seemed like the biggest public relations scandal an organization could ever face…but somehow， the administration of the Jiangxi Industry Polytechnic College managed to make a disgusting situation worse.

On June 3， two days after a student shared a video of finding a suspiciously rat-head-like object in his food， the college argued the video’s “反映內(nèi)容與事實不符 （fǎnyìngnèiróngyǔshìshíbùfú， content does not correspond to facts）” and that the buck-toothed， bewhiskered object was in fact a piece of duck’s neck， a relatively normal food item eaten in parts of China.

When netizens refused to buy the explanation， the school and， later， the local authorities doubled down on the denial， until finally an investigation by higher-up officials revealed it was indeed a rat’s head.

Netizens dubbed the college’s public relations strategy in this crisis as “指鼠為鴨 （zhǐshǔwéiyā， calling a rat a duck），” a nod to the idiom 指鹿為馬 （zhǐlùwéimǎ） derived from an ancient story in which a powerful chancellor claimed that a deer gifted to Qin Shi Huang， China’s first emperor， was actually a horse. Other officials， fearful of the chancellor’s influence， all agreed with the obvious lie.

Deliberately confusing right and wrong is but one strategy that companies， institutions， and celebrities adopt to manage public relations crises， some of which pay off better than others.

Playing victim

One way to make a denial of a scandal even more effective is to play the victim， hoping to make the public believe that it’s you， not the people you supposedly wronged， who deserve their sympathy.

Singer and actor Cai Xukun， for example， recently denied the allegation that he forced a woman he’d impregnated to get an abortion. Cai’s PR team want the public to believe that the scandal is merely rumor-mongering：

I ask certain social media accounts to please refrain from spreading or believing in rumors.

Kěnqǐngxiāngguānzìméitǐbúxìnyáo、bùchuányáo.

懇請相關(guān)自媒體不信謠、不傳謠。

Some accused parties also cry they were 被搞了 （bèi gǎo le， being set up） in the face of criticism—specifically， that some enemies hired 水軍 （shuǐjūn， water army）， or paid social media users， to leave negative comments about them.

A celebrity （or usually， their agents or lawyers） might also claim they will resort to 法律武器 （fǎlǜwǔqì， literally “weapons of law”） to shore up their claim of innocence， making the public believe they must be earnest if they’re willing to use legal means to protect their reputation.

But sometimes turning to the authorities can backfire. This happened in 2021 with the mother of disgraced singer Kris Wu， who reported Du Meizhu， the woman who accused her son of sexually assaulting her and several other young women， to the police on the charge of extortion. The police instead found evidence to back up Du’s accusations.

Taking the moral high ground

If empty threats or claims of victimhood don’t work， one can always cast doubt on the accuser’s credibility. Last year， when soy sauce brand Haitian came under attack for using more food additives in their domestic products than those they sold abroad， the company responded that additives are safe to eat， and chided consumers for their ignorance：

Using the so-called “double standard” to antagonize consumers and domestic brands not only harms Chinese consumers’ confidence， but also severely impacts the international reputation of “made in China” products.

Yòngsuǒwèi “shuāngbiāo” láitiǎoqǐxiāofèizhěhéZhōngguópǐnpáiqǐyè de máodùnduìlì， bùjǐndǎjīleZhōngguólǎobǎixìng de xiāofèixìnxīn， gènghuìyánzhòngyǐngxiǎng “Zhōngguózào” de shìjièshēngyù.

用所謂“雙標”來挑起消費者和中國品牌企業(yè)的矛盾對立，不僅打擊了中國老百姓的消費信心，更會嚴重影響“中國造”的世界聲譽。

Predictably， such attempts to lecture consumers from the moral high ground often only enrage the public even more.

Never my fault

In the face of any tragic event， it’s important that a company appear sympathetic：

We are very sorry about this accident， and offer our condolences to the deceased colleague.

Wǒmenduìzhècìyìwàifēichángtòngxīn， duìlínàntóngshìbiǎoshìshēnqièāidào.

我們對這次意外非常痛心，對罹難同事表示深切哀悼。

However， in some cases—such as in 2022， when a test vehicle by electric car company Nio fell from a third-floor garage and killed two people—this might be followed up by an attempt to deflect responsibility：

We arrive at the preliminary conclusion that this accident is unrelated to the vehicle itself.

Kěyǐchūbùquèrèn， zhèshìyìqǐyìwàishìgù， yǔchēliàngběnshēnméiyǒuguānxi.

可以初步確認，這是一起意外事故，與車輛本身沒有關(guān)系。

Netizens did not appreciate this explanation， as shown by one response to Nio’s announcement on Weibo：

Truly， the last sentence shows the cold-bloodedness of capital.

Jiǎng zhēn， zuìhòuyíjùhuàtūxiǎnlezīběn de lěngxuè.

講真，最后一句話凸顯了資本的冷血。

Bite the bullet

Given all the tricks and strategies companies and public figures adopt to rid themselves of responsibilities， sometimes it’s almost refreshing to see a response to a scandal that simply admits fault and expresses regret：

After investigating， the company concludes the problems covered by media reports indeed exist. We will suspend our operations， fix the issues， and inspect the whole company.

Jīng gōngsīdiàochá， rènwéiméitǐbàodàozhōngpīlù de wèntíshǔshí， jiāngzhǔdòngtíngyèzhěnggǎi、quánmiànchèchá.

經(jīng)公司調(diào)查，認為媒體報道中披露的問題屬實，將主動停業(yè)整改、全面徹查。

The above words came from a public statement by Haidilao， a hot pot restaurant chain， in response to a media expose of the unhygienic， rat-infested conditions in some of their kitchens. In this response now applauded among public relations professionals， the company also detailed concrete steps to fix the problem， even listing the names of the employees responsible for each measure. They also requested further oversight from the public：

We welcome consumers， media friends， and authorities to come to our restaurants to supervise us， and give us feedback.

Huānyínggùkè、méitǐpéngyǒuhéguǎnlǐbùménqiánwǎngHǎidǐlāoméndiànjiǎnchájiāndū， bìngduìwǒmen de gōngzuòtíchūxiūgǎiyìjiàn.

歡迎顧客、媒體朋友和管理部門前往海底撈門店檢查監(jiān)督，并對我們的工作提出修改意見。