Stillness Is Strategy: Why the Best Crisis Response Is Sometimes No Response at All
When a crisis hits, every instinct tells you to act. Say something. Issue a statement. Get ahead of it. Fix it.
I’ve spent my career in communications and public affairs — including time as a governor’s spokesman — and I’ve watched that instinct cause more damage than the original crisis more times than I can count.
Here’s the counterintuitive truth I now tell every leader I work with: when you find yourself in a crisis, the best thing to do is often nothing. At least not right away, and not publicly.
Perspective Is the First Casualty of a Crisis
When you’re standing in the middle of a fire, everything looks like it’s burning. That’s not a character flaw — it’s human nature. But it’s also how leaders get baited into responding to problems that aren’t really problems.
My first week as communications director in the governor’s office, a colleague burst through my door: “We have a big problem.”
I had one question: “Why do you say it’s a big problem?”
His answer: over a hundred phone calls.
A hundred phone calls. In a state of three million people. That’s 0.003% of the population. And those calls almost certainly didn’t represent a hundred independent citizens arriving at the same concern on their own. They were organized. One group. One message. One afternoon.
We decided not to respond. No press. No statement. Nothing.
Nothing ever came of it.
Overreacting to a Problem Doubles the Problem
That episode taught me something I’ve carried ever since: when you respond to something that isn’t a story, you make it a story. Your reaction becomes the headline.
The press release you didn’t need to send. The statement that invited follow-up questions. The press conference that told the world something was wrong before they had any reason to think so. These are the moves that turn a murmur into a roar.
There’s a reason master carpenters say measure twice, cut once. Once you’ve made the cut, you can’t undo it. The same is true in communications. Once you’ve made a public response, you’ve changed the story — and you can’t un-ring that bell.
Finding True Perspective Before You Act
So what should you do instead? Before you act, you have to find true perspective — not the view from inside the storm, but the view from outside it.
Ask yourself:
- How many people actually care? Not how many calls came in, but how many distinct, independent people are genuinely concerned.
- Is this organic, or is it organized? Coordinated outrage is a strategy, not a groundswell. Treat it accordingly.
- What happens if you do nothing? In most cases, the honest answer is: not much.
These aren’t questions of avoidance. They’re questions of calibration. Because the goal isn’t to never respond — it’s to respond right, to the right things, at the right time.
The Pause Is a Tool, Not a Surrender
I want to be clear about something: stillness is not passivity. It’s not hiding. It’s not hoping the problem goes away.
It’s the discipline to slow down long enough to understand what you’re actually dealing with before you pick up your instrument and start cutting.
You can always respond after you’ve taken the time to understand the situation. You cannot un-respond.
The pause is a tool. And like any tool, it’s most powerful in the hands of someone who knows when to use it.
Why Outside Perspective Matters
One of the most valuable things a communications advisor can offer isn’t messaging — it’s distance. The best advisors aren’t just people who know your organization inside and out. They’re people who can walk in from the outside and tell you how big this actually is — or isn’t.
Because when you’re standing in the middle of it, you can’t always see clearly. You need someone whose cortisol levels aren’t elevated. Someone who isn’t in fight-or-flight mode. Someone who can look at a hundred phone calls and say, “This isn’t a crisis. This is Tuesday.”
A Different Kind of Strength
We tend to celebrate the bold move, the rapid response, the decisive action under pressure. And sometimes that’s exactly what’s called for.
But there’s another kind of strength — quieter, less celebrated, and frankly harder to practice — that separates good communicators from great ones.
It’s the strength to slow down when every instinct is screaming to speed up. To measure before you cut. To find stillness in the middle of the storm.
When someone walks into your office and says “we have a big problem,” the most powerful thing you can do is pause long enough to find out if it actually is one.
So here’s the question worth sitting with: When was the last time your instinct to respond quickly made a situation better — and when did it make it worse?
