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Month: June 2025

Two crises. One message. Only one rang true. In crisis management words matter — but only if they are conveyed with passion and concern

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Earlier this month, after the tragic crash of flight AI171 in Ahmedabad, India, en route to London, Gatwick, Air India CEO Campbell Wilson said what needed to be said.

He “first and most importantly” expressed “deep sorrow,” stated that the airline would be “focused entirely on the needs of our passengers, crew members, their families and loved ones,” and calmly relayed all the known facts available at that early stage.

The remarks should have elicited no reaction beyond solemn respect. At that moment, attention should have been squarely fixed on the devastation facing the families and the urgent investigation into what could have caused such a tragedy.

But many observers noticed Wilson’s words sounded familiar. Too familiar.

In fact, they were nearly identical to those delivered by American Airlines CEO Robert Isom just five months earlier — after the collision of Flight AE5342 with a U.S. military helicopter over the Potomac River. Strip away the specific details of each incident, and what remains is a speech duplicated line for line. Wilson’s remarks weren’t just reminiscent of Isom’s — they were a carbon copy. In short: they were stolen.

For such a blatant, unforced error, for such a galling lapse in judgment, one might have expected heads to roll or, at the very least, a formal apology to be issued.

But nothing of the sort transpired. Wilson wasn’t fired. The airline didn’t face a media firestorm. Public reaction was relatively muted. The story barely registered outside the echo chamber of PR professionals and a handful of journalists.

And that’s what makes this episode so revealing: crisis communication — and communications more broadly — is being reshaped.

We are witnessing an uptick in copycat messaging from business and political leaders. Just last week, Hill Times reporter Stuart Benson highlighted that Prime Minister Mark Carney’s statement responding to U.S. military strikes on Iranian nuclear sites bore an uncanny resemblance to the one released hours earlier by British Prime Minister Keir Starmer. Maybe it’s a case of shared perspective. But the alignment in tone, cadence, and structure stretched the limits of coincidence.

Yet again, like Wilson, Carney didn’t pay a heavy reputational price.

Why? Because audience expectations have shifted.

In an age where AI tools can churn out polished boilerplate in seconds, we’ve grown more tolerant of prepackaged language. We’ve started to accept a kind of functional blandness. As long as the boxes are ticked, no one’s — seemingly — overly concerned about whether the words were borrowed. Originality is overrated.

But that’s precisely why the Air India case matters.

Because plagiarism wasn’t the CEO’s only problem. As many on social media noted, the CEO’s tone was flat, detached, robotic. And that’s what made it stand out in the first place. When you watch the side-by-side video comparisons of the two men delivering virtually the same message, a study in language theft turns out to also be a study in the importance of delivery.

One CEO conveys passion and concern. The other looked like he was reading terms and conditions. You can hear and feel the difference.

And that’s the lesson.

In a crisis, words matter — but only if they’re felt.

The public doesn’t just want a response; they want a response that feels worthy of the moment. That means sincerity, presence, and emotional intelligence.

Because crises are always human. They involve human failure, human suffering, and human stakes. And that means the response must do more than tick the boxes. It has to sound like it comes from a human, too.

There is a reason we reach for those hallmark cards. While the prefabricated message inside is tender and invariably clichéd, it says, again, what needs to be said. And yet, the card means almost nothing unless the handwritten note inside delivers a more genuine, personalized sentiment.

Unless the pre-written message serves only as inspiration for the real thing.

Originality may be overrated in everyday communication. But in those high-stakes moments when trust is tested and emotions are raw — it matters more than ever. A crisis is one of those moments. And leaders would do well to remember: people don’t just want to hear the right words. They want to know you mean them.

This unlikely political victor rode a desire for change. But he did more than that, too

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It was hardly a fair fight.

When the New York City mayoral race began some months ago, Zohran Mamdani had all the disadvantages you’d expect of a young, relatively inexperienced, politician. Little money. Few high-powered endorsements. Scarce volunteers. And, as he put it himself recently, “I started this race at one-per cent name recognition.”

By comparison, his chief rival, Andrew Cuomo, had all the veteran advantages: money, media clout, and a long list of establishment allies.

But that’s what a truly great, innovative campaign can do. It makes an unfair fight competitive. It levels the playing field. It rewrites the rules. And yesterday’s stunning result — Mamdani’s primary win, which catapulted him into the national spotlight as the latest rising star in the Democratic Party (not without controversy) — was proof of exactly that.

In politics, a good contrast is always useful. But at the right moment, it becomes essential. To capture the mood. To channel the frustration. To build the movement.

And only one candidate truly offered that contrast — in ideology, in energy, and in campaign style — and that was Mamdani.

As The New Yorker’s Eric Lach put it: “The race wasn’t just about old New York versus new New York; it was about the politics of the visible (tweeting, door-knocking, organizing) and the invisible (power, relationships, familiarity).”

But contrast alone is not enough. Mamdani’s campaign succeeded because of tactical brilliance that turned visibility into virality. That took his 12-hour street march from Inwood to Battery Park from just a photo-op to a social media event. That made his organic interactions with voters on the street not just feel-good moments but TikToks with millions of views.

Put another way: all the grassroots hustle in the world means nothing without a digital amplifier that converts such moments into views and clicks. And just as consequential: in today’s politics, invisibility equals irrelevance. If you’re not being seen and present on the platforms where the conversation is taking place and people are scrolling, you will stand zero chance.

Which brings us to the race’s most defining contrast: youth. At 33, Mamdani is less than half Cuomo’s age. And it showed. He used TikTok the way former U.S. president Barack Obama once used Facebook. There was an effortless savvy to his digital presence that cannot be faked. That was clearly led by people who actually use the platform. Not old-timers who think TikTok is the sound a clock makes.

In that sense, Mamdani’s campaign felt like a fresh, insurgent brand — and Cuomo’s felt like a rusted relic (with, not to mention, a pile full of skeletons in the closet).

Agree with his politics or not, this is a new, youthful expression of Democratic energy — and one the party badly needs. As Bernie Sanders recently told Politico, if Kamala Harris had deployed this more ground-style politics and “not listened to her consultants and done that, she would be president of the United States today.”

And if I’d bought Apple stock in 1984, I’d be a billionaire.

But here’s what matters: renewal is on the menu.

And that matters in a system where too many politicians refuse to leave the stage — even when scandal-scarred and long past their sell-by date. Voters were ready for something fresh. Mamdani’s campaign delivered a version of that freshness — and the results translated.

Translated into a staggering (according to his campaign) 50,000 volunteers and over a million doors knocked.

It translated into a movement.

Right on cue, the Republicans are already licking their chops. Trump tweeted that Mamdani is a “100% communist lunatic.” Fox News is on DEFCON 1. The right-wing manosphere will be podcasting about his “TikTok tyranny” by sundown.

But they should be careful what they wish for.

Because candidates who are dismissed by the establishment — but who speak directly to voters, offer real contrast, and ride momentum — have a tendency to outperform expectations.

Just ask the current president of the United States.

Mark Carney has set the tone for the G7. He knows the cost of playing it safe is irrelevance

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It would be safe — perhaps even generous — to say that Prime Minister Mark Carney is navigating a minefield of diplomatic hazards, moral compromise, and geopolitical volatility as the G7 unfolds this week in Kananaskis, Alberta.

Turn right, and you might face the Prime Minister of India — whose government stands accused by Canada of orchestrating an assassination on Canadian soil.

Turn left, and there’s the President of Mexico, a nation whose relationship with Canada was recently described as at a six-year low.

Look back, and — oh yea — there’s the orange menace to the south, who has repeatedly threatened to rip up trade deals, undermine our alliances, and repeatedly hinted at annexation.

And that’s not even counting the controversial invitees who passed.

The risks are so glaring that many have started asking what sounds like a perfectly reasonable question: with so many potential pitfalls, why risk controversy? Why roll out the red carpet for leaders with questionable democratic credentials? Why not aim for the safest possible summit and avoid unnecessary entanglements?

To those asking such questions, I would pose another: what country — and what prime minister — have you been watching?

Because to ask those questions is to fundamentally misunderstand the style, strategy, and ambitions of Mark Carney.

What the Prime Minister understands is this: Canada is not, at this moment, operating from a position of default influence. After years of missteps, drift, and diplomatic fatigue, credibility must be earned back — not assumed. And in that rebuilding effort, there are no “risk-free” moves. There is no “safe play” that leads to restored status.

It’s not a matter of risk versus reward — it’s all risk. Because the cost of caution, at this point, is irrelevance.

Carney’s mandate, as he has said repeatedly, is not to return things to “business as usual” — it’s to reset the terms entirely.

Because here’s the truth: Carney may have successfully turned the page from Justin Trudeau for Canadians. But he now needs to do the same for Canada on the world stage.

And that requires both substance and style.

Substantively, Carney made a shrewd and necessary move by pre-emptively reaffirming Canada’s commitment to meet NATO’s two per cent GDP defence target by this year — and exceed it by 2030. It wasn’t just a policy statement; it was strategic table-setting.

It was a down payment on seriousness. A demonstration that Canada is no longer phoning it in. That we understand the price of admission for a seat at the table — without being considered the freeloading distant relative that only comes calling when he needs something.

And now for the style.

If you think personality and tone don’t matter in geopolitics, just ask Donald Trump — whose animus for Justin Trudeau was visceral and deeply personal. Relationships matter. Posture matters.

So, this may well be Carney’s Nixon-in-China moment.

Precisely because of his technocratic credentials, his reputation for caution, and his short runway as a political actor — Carney has the credibility to go bold. To sit across from the world’s leaders and say: whatever grievances you had with the last guy, this is a new chapter.

That is the unique power of hosting. You get to set the table. You get to choose the tone.

And right now, Canada must seize both opportunities — not just to manage the moment, but to reintroduce itself to the world.

Now is not the time to play it safe.

Carney signals a welcome new approach to governing. It’s about accountability

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When Mark Carney assumed the Prime Minister’s Office, the question on everyone’s lips was: can he translate his international business gravitas into public sector functionality? We’re beginning to get an answer. And it’s not just a refreshing new start — on some levels, it’s a complete gear shift.

The Carney government is clearly intent on breaking from the past, starting with cabinet governance.

First, the mandate letter. Singular. Not plural. In a move as symbolic as it is strategic, Carney issued a single, codified mandate letter to his entire cabinet.

The idea? Set a unified direction for government, lay out the core national priorities, and then let ministers shape their own portfolios within that strategic frame.

This is a marked departure from previous governments, where ministers were handed laundry lists of pet initiatives and siloed priorities. Carney’s approach signals something different: clarity over clutter, flexibility over prescription. It’s an invitation to lead — and a test of who can.

It’s not about decentralization or ambiguity. Quite the opposite. It’s about accountability. Because while ministers have space to define their paths, they are also expected to measure and report on their progress. This will force ministers to define success before they claim it and opens the door for a genuine performance culture in Ottawa.

That’s where the second big change comes in: data. Each cabinet minister has been tasked with building a set of key metrics for progress to be tracked and reported against.

Policy, meet performance. The move brings private sector discipline into government, without pretending the two are the same.

I’m not for a minute suggesting the federal government can, or should, be run like a business. It’s not. The incentives, the stakeholders, the accountability mechanisms, are all different. But there is value in being more businesslike. In prioritizing efficiency and ROI, remembering every dollar comes from a citizen, not a shareholder.

And there’s the rub: governments can’t walk away from unprofitable markets. They’re on the hook for providing for seniors, delivering affordable housing, ensuring food security, and supporting rural communities — regardless of ROI. So, while discipline is welcome, it must be paired with public-minded patience. Success won’t just be margin-based; it’ll also be measured in trust.

Carney knows this. And he’s surrounding himself with people who know it, too.

Yet one of the most important staffing decisions he will make in these early days isn’t in cabinet, but in the corner office next to his: the Prime Minister’s Chief of Staff.

Carney is new to electoral politics. That means he needs more than a taskmaster. He needs a unicorn. A seasoned operator with political chops, business fluency, and diplomatic sensitivity.

Someone who can connect the boldness of Carney’s vision with government’s machinery and personalities. Someone who can push, pull, and rally ministers and their staff to align and deliver.

This appointment will be a tell: is Carney willing to share power in the service of execution? Or will he try to do it all himself? The latter is simply unsustainable.

And then there’s the civil service. To the extent possible, we need public servants back in the office. Canadian government employees still lag in returning to physical workplaces, and this needs to be rectified if the government is to maximize professionalism and productivity as part of its bold agenda.

Treasury Board policy requires core federal public servants to work on-site at least three days per week. But compliance is lacking. For instance, in December 2024, the Department of National Defence reported a national compliance rate of just 31 per cent.

This isn’t about nostalgia or control. It’s about performance, culture, and cohesion — these all suffer when people are disconnected.

Even the private sector, with all its flexibility, is calling its people back to HQ. Government is no exception. If anything, the stakes are higher.

None of this will guarantee success. But it does mark a serious effort to rewire the habits of a government that has become too lackadaisical.

The best governments don’t just have vision. They have operating systems that allow that vision to take root.

Carney, it appears, is building one. Now comes the hard part: delivering.