Desert Storm in 1991 was the first cable news war. CNN flooded the airwaves with on-the-scene coverage; the broadcast networks followed; and satellite feeds broadcast the conflict to every corner of the earth. Hundreds of reporters showed up in the battle area wanting access to everything that was going on.
Those of us who were running the war had the additional task of satisfying the demand for news. Part of my job as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Dick Cheney’s job as Secretary of Defense, was to manage all this. In my view, we handled it well, despite considerable criticism.
I have always believed in the principle that the media’s obligation to inform the American people imposed a duty on me to tell the media as much as possible about what was going on. I had the responsibility to help them understand our actions during Desert Storm so they could do their job. I also had an obligation not to give out information that could compromise our operations or put our troops at risk. Though the media invariably wanted to know more than I wanted them to know, and they criticized us for not telling them as much as they wanted to hear, they understood their job and mine.
We did a pretty good job finding the right balance between our two sometimes conflicting obligations. But we weren’t the final judges of that. It was up to the American people to decide. They wanted all the news, but trusted us to protect their sons and daughters in combat.
Though this may not seem immediately obvious, Saturday Night Live provided a pretty good measure of how most Americans thought we were handling the press. A SNL skit portrayed Dick Cheney and me at a press conference where reporters asked us clearly over-the-top questions, such as “What time in the morning are you going to attack?” I think the people out there understood what we were up against and what we were trying to do.
Secretary Cheney and I gave a number of press conferences during the conflict. By then I had learned quite a bit about dealing with the press in our modern era of electronic news. Whenever I appeared before the press, I had come to realize that I was talking to multiple audiences and had to satisfy all of them. For most of my press appearances I identified five prominent audiences:
1. The reporter asking the question. The reporter is the least important audience. Always remember, you are not talking to the reporter, but through the reporter to the people out there watching and listening. That said, be respectful of the reporter. In an interview situation there is no such thing as a dumb question. Putting down a reporter makes you look like a bully.
2. The American people who are watching and listening. They want information, especially if their children and loved ones are engaged in the battle. They want to have conveyed to them a sense of confidence and assuredness that their leaders know what they’re doing. They expect and deserve honesty. Included in this audience are our political and government leaders. Even if in they are in Washington, most of them are hearing this news for the first time.
3. Political and military leaders in more than 190 foreign capitals. Every one will have to comment and explain to their own people what you have said; in Desert Storm many of them had their own troops in the battle under U.S. command. That means that you are not just talking to foreign leaders, but to their fellow citizens and their families.
4. The enemy, who is watching and listening carefully. You don’t want to give him anything he can use against you. You need to be an expert at sliding away from questions like “Is it true we don’t have enough fuel to launch the operation?” . . . “Is it true that you are able to listen to Iraqi secure radio communications?” . . . “What about the report that you have special forces operating covertly west of Baghdad?” Some of our necessarily vague responses terribly disappointed reporters.
5. Finally, the troops. They have access to radio, television, print media, and now the Internet. You are talking about their lives. You never try to spin this audience. First, it won’t work. Second, they are counting on you. They trust you, and you must never violate that trust.
If you are a senior leader—military, corporate, or financial—who plans to speak in public, you should make a thorough analysis of each audience you will be addressing. Be sure you are always talking through the questioner or the interviewer to the audiences who really matter.
I guess there are schools that teach these ideas, but my education came on the job. Sometimes we throw into the press breach a senior leader who has not yet completed his media on-the-job training.
I assigned Lieutenant General Cal Waller to be Norm Schwarzkopf’s deputy during Desert Storm. I had known Cal for years; he was a brilliant officer; and I considered him one of my mentees. In December 1990, Dick Cheney and I arrived in Riyadh for briefings from Norm. We had with us a large press contingent pleading for information. Norm, Dick, and I were busy, so Cal, who had little press experience and had been in Riyadh for only a month, was tossed in to brief the press. Cal, doing his best to be forthcoming during the questioning, offered his view that we wouldn’t be ready to attack until maybe mid-February. It was a big-time gaffe that contradicted what we and the President had been saying. And Cal had egg on his face. In fact the Air Force and Navy were already set to go by then; the Army needed more time. Meanwhile, Cal’s remarks became headline news around the world. The media couldn’t believe their good fortune.
Cal felt terrible, but we reassured him; no damage was really done; and we were able to tamp down the uproar within twenty-four hours.
Since I was one of Cal’s closest mentors, I wrote a note to him that night in my hotel about how to handle the press. It has applications far beyond a note between friends:
“Cal, with respect to the press, remember,
1. They get to pick the question. You get to pick the answer.
2. You don’t have to answer any question you don’t want to.
3. Never lie or dissemble, of course; but beware of being too candid or open.
4. Never answer hypothetical questions about the future.
5. Never reveal the private advice you have given your superiors.
6. Answers should be directed to the message you want readers/viewers to get. The interviewers are not your audience.
7. They’re doing their job. You’re doing yours. But you’re the only one at risk.
8. Don’t predict or speculate about future events.
9. Beware slang or one-liners unless you are consciously trying to produce a sound bite.
10. Don’t wash dirty linen.
11. Do not answer any question containing a premise you disagree with.
12. Don’t push yourself or be pushed into an answer you don’t want to give.
13. If trapped, be vague and mumble.
14. Never cough or shift your feet.
15. When there are second follow-up questions, you’re in trouble—break right, apply power, gain altitude, or eject.”
As the years passed, I learned a couple of other lessons:
Thirty minutes is long enough for any interview. Any longer and you start to step on your own lines.
I never gave on-the-record interviews at a meal. You get too relaxed and think you are just hanging around with good friends.
Never shift in your chair, grab your ear, or touch your face. It’s a signal that you have been caught.
Never pause to think of what to say. Start talking while you are thinking. You can always just repeat the question.
I learned the “you’re the only one at risk” rule in 1987, when I was Deputy National Security Advisor, moments after my very first Sunday morning TV interview, on This Week with David Brinkley. I was doing fine; and we were near the end of the show. The great reporter Sam Donaldson, one of the regular panelists, grabbed the mike and in his aggressive manner asked, “Why should we trust you? You are a military officer, and after the recent NSC Iran-Contra scandal, with military officers in charge, why should we trust you?” During the half minute that was left, I thought I gave a rather good account of myself and why I could be trusted. After the show, I remarked to Sam that I thought I had gotten the best of that exchange. I won!
Sam smiled at my naïveté. “General,” he said, “when you are with the press, you are the only one at risk. I can never lose.” I never forgot that.
And he added, “Never smirk at us when you think you’re ahead.”
And never let them see you sweat.