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There is a unique kind of reputational damage caused by one careless sentence escaping the room it was meant for.
This week on When It Hits the Fan, David Yelland and I looked at three stories that reveal how fragile public trust has become, and how quickly audiences now detect language, behaviour or campaigns that feel emotionally out of touch.
A banker discussing AI and jobs in language that stunned employees around the world. Fresh scrutiny around the late Queen’s support for Prince Andrew. And a government campaign that discovered reach and credibility are not the same thing.
The CEO Who Forgot the World Was Listening
Bill Winters, the CEO of Standard Chartered, was speaking at an investor event in Hong Kong when he referred to some back-office roles as “lower value human capital” while discussing AI displacement of jobs. The backlash was immediate and global…
Across the United States, Asia, Europe and beyond, people are anxious about AI. Parents are anxious about what jobs will exist for their children. Graduates are anxious about whether entry-level roles will disappear. Employees are quietly wondering whether years of loyalty can now be replaced by software. Then along comes a bank chief executive earning millions a year appearing to confirm everybody’s worst fear in four words.
The real PR failure here was not the economics. Most people understand AI will reshape the workforce. The problem was the language. There is a difference between saying roles are vulnerable to automation and making human beings themselves sound disposable. One is strategic business communication. The other sounds cold and emotionally detached.
And once those words escaped into public debate, the damage multiplied with every attempted clarification.
Winters followed up with LinkedIn posts and internal messaging trying to explain what he meant. But one of the hardest lessons in communications is that once people believe they have seen the authentic thought behind the corporate mask, explanations rarely help. They often deepen the impression.
The phrase “lower value human capital” spread because it felt believable. It sounded like the kind of thing many people suspect powerful institutions quietly think but rarely say aloud.
This is where PR matters, the best communicators inside organisations are not there simply to polish language after the fact. They are there to act as emotional radar systems. To understand how words will travel beyond the investor room. To hear the sentence before it becomes a headline.
Leadership today requires more than financial intelligence. It requires emotional intelligence too. In an AI age, companies will increasingly be judged not just on how quickly they automate, but on whether they can still speak like they value humans while doing it.
The Palace and the Problem with Disclosure
This week brought the release of documents showing how keen the late Queen was for her son Prince Andrew to become a UK trade envoy after leaving the Navy. At the same time, Thames Valley Police confirmed it is conducting a criminal investigation into Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor and has appealed for witnesses.
On one level, none of this is surprising. Many mothers would try to help their son rebuild his career. But reputationally, this story is less about the appointment itself and more about what happens when institutions built on mystique are forced into transparency.
The modern Royal Family survives partly because of distance, and mystery. A carefully managed separation between public symbolism and private reality. What has changed over the past decade is not simply media scrutiny, but the moral lens through which institutions are judged. Younger audiences especially tend to view historic decisions through contemporary expectations around accountability and influence.
That creates a difficult tension for the Palace. Older generations may see the late Queen’s actions through the lens of maternal loyalty and duty to family. Younger audiences shaped by the post-#MeToo era are more likely to ask harder questions about judgment, protection and institutional accountability.
The real reputational risk is not one set of documents. It is cumulative disclosure. Once previously sealed communications begin entering public view, they create momentum. One revelation encourages demands for another.
For decades, criticism of the late Queen was almost culturally off-limits in Britain. But once reputations acquire visible vulnerability, even small vulnerabilities, they create permission for wider criticism. The conversation shifts from “should this be questioned?” to “what else has not yet been revealed?”
The Government’s Influencer Problem
The UK Department for Education faced ridicule this week after partnering with television personality and influencer Gemma Collins, the reality television star with 2.3 million Instagram followers on a campaign encouraging young people to stay in education.
Now, governments using influencers is not the scandal some critics suggest. In fact, it is increasingly necessary. Traditional media no longer reaches younger audiences in the way it once did. Across the globe, politicians, public health agencies and even central banks now use creators to communicate policy messages.
The issue is not whether governments should use influencers. The issue is whether they understand how influence actually works. Too many organisations still mistake visibility for credibility.
Gemma Collins undoubtedly has reach. Millions follow her online. But successful influencer campaigns require something deeper than audience size. They require trust and authenticity around the specific issue being discussed.
Would young people naturally look to this person for guidance on education choices? Would parents? Would teachers? Does the collaboration feel organic or imposed? Audiences answer those questions instinctively within seconds.
Timing also matters enormously in communications. The Department for Education launched the campaign just as debates around special educational needs reforms were already creating tension and criticism online. Campaigns do not exist in isolation, public mood and sentiments must be understood.
What fascinated me most, though, was how quickly the conversation became less about education itself and more about whether government communications had become performative. There is now immense pressure on institutions to behave like content creators. To entertain. To trend. To borrow from meme culture and influencer culture in pursuit of relevance.
Sometimes that works brilliantly. Sometimes it leaves audiences wondering whether the institution still understands the seriousness of its own role. That balancing act is becoming one of the defining communications challenges of our age.
In modern PR, attention alone is no longer enough. People are asking harder questions now.
Not just: “Did it reach me?” But: “Did it feel authentic when it did?”
(Farzana Baduel is CEO of Curzon PR, President of the Chartered Institute of Public Relations, and co-presenter of When It Hits the Fan on BBC Radio 4.)
Disclaimer: The opinions and views expressed in this article/column are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of South Asian Herald.
