An oft-used phrase in common parlance is a misquote: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” credited to 6th century BC Chinese philosopher Lao-Tzu, translates literally as, “A journey of a thousand li starts beneath one’s feet.”
 
The actual words make the statement more personal, more human. It ascribes ownership, personal reflection and resolve, even a bit of humility.
 
It’s possible, just possible, that Michigan State University’s leadership took a long-overdue look at its own feet, reflected on its poor behavior, and made the first steps on what will be a very long journey.
 
As I’ve blogged here and here, MSU’s leadership—from the exiting President Lou Anna Simon through the consistently insensitive Board of Trustees—failed to show any contrition or demonstrate any meaningful empathy for the hundreds of women sexually abused by sports physician Larry Nassar. After weeks of national outrage that ramped up considerably after the Board affirmed Simon, dismissed critics and minimized the victims, trustees assembled meekly on Friday for a tear-filled public apology. It was a remarkable change in tone.
 
From a crisis communications perspective, the trustees largely hit the right notes. They took ownership of the failures that allowed Nassar to abuse young athletes for 20 years. They promised to re-engage with the victims to hammer out a “fair and just resolution”—the university already faces many civil lawsuits from the scandal. They pushed for third-party involvement in investigations and vowed to be transparent with results. They pledged to listen to all stakeholders, including holding open forums, with a promise to change whatever needs changing.
 
Most importantly, they showed remorse, apologizing individually and collectively.
 
“I am so truly sorry,” said Trustee Brian Mosallam. He sobbed his next sentence: “We failed you.”
 
“We made mistakes. I made mistakes,” said Trustee Diane Bynum.
 
“I’m truly sorry for our collective inaction, and I’m sorry for my inaction,” said Trustee Joel Ferguson, among the most criticized for dismissive statements he made in an interview early this week.
 
Board Chair Brian Breslin seemed to acknowledge the root of MSU’s lack of contrition—fear of lawsuits—in part of his statement: “The focus for MSU needs to shift from lawsuits to pursuing the right decisions to genuinely participate in helping victims and survivors with your healing.”
 
This link includes a video of the full meeting (fast forward to the 19-minute mark for the start of trustees’ comments).
 
There were still a few caveats in the Board’s statements and actions, still a few lifeboats kept ready in case MSU eventually dislikes the course this journey might take. But for the moment, the conversation seemed to indicate a better direction.
 
Only time will tell. MSU must understand that an hour-long “sorry” session, regardless of tears shed, by itself won’t fix the damage that’s been done. Words are important, but sincere actions summon change. Much of that action will be painful—tough investigations, hard questions, fundamental changes, people (including trustees, whom I still believe should resign) owning the failures and suffering the consequences. But that pain is nothing compared to the pain endured by the women Nassar abused, a pain exacerbated by MSU’s callousness.
 
Students, families, alumni, lawmakers, the public at large, and most importantly the victims, have every reason to be skeptical. They will be watching. It’s up to MSU leadership to meet—no, to exceed—the expectations they tried to establish on Friday. That will take a consistent, relentless, heartfelt effort for years to come.

Remember when you were a child and you did something wrong to someone, so your parents told you to apologize? Remember the utter lack of sincerity you put into that apology, muttering a monotone “sorry” under your breath as you stared daggers at the ground?
 
That’s exactly the approach Lou Anna Simon took in her letter resigning as president of Michigan State University.
 
A few days ago, I posted a blog explaining why Simon needed to step down in the wake of the horrific Larry Nassar scandal. My point was that Simon’s resignation should serve as the first step in the long healing process—for Nassar’s victims, for their families, for MSU, for the university’s many stakeholders.
 
Last night, Simon resigned. And she did so through an appalling tome that laid blame everywhere but at her feet. You can read the letter here.
 
Simon makes a small effort to acknowledge the pain of the young women whom Nassar molested. Sadly, that effort is all but lost in a letter that spends its time explaining why none of this is Simon’s fault and, incredibly, all but equates the victims’ pain to Simon’s own.
 
Simon had a perfect opportunity to start the healing. She could have accepted her responsibility, as president of the university, for the failure of systems to catch and stop Nassar. She could have expressed sincere empathy for the women. She and the Board of Trustees, who in their defensiveness have been shockingly dismissive of the Nassar scandal, could have laid out an aggressive plan for rooting out the failures, holding people accountable, changing systems, reaching out and rebuilding trust—starting with her exit. Instead, the disingenuous, tone-deaf messaging continues.
 
In her letter, Simon states, “I have tried to make it not about me.” In fact, that’s all her letter does.
 
And the healing has yet to begin.

Some years ago, I served as media spokesman for a company that was closing part of a manufacturing plant and laying off several hundred workers. A local radio station invited me to do a live interview during evening drive time. I agreed, albeit with some apprehension.
 
Dialing in at the appropriate time, I listened as the host introduced me and the topic: “Today, Company X announced that it was shutting down part of its local plant, costing hundreds of jobs. On the phone is Rick Chambers, and Rick, you ruined a lot of people’s day today.”
 
Apprehension justified.
 
After a quick pick-up-my-jaw-from-the-floor moment, I answered: “Of course, that’s not what we set out to do. Let me explain what we announced today and, most importantly, what we’re doing to support the people affected.” I then took the time to explain the decision, the reasons behind it, and the many ways the company would assist its employees and the community. Throughout the interview, I underscored again and again the company’s concern for the people facing an unsettling change and its commitment to help.
 
By the time the interview ended, the once-hostile host thanked me and the company for being present, explaining the decision and supporting those affected.
 
Reflecting on that experience, I’m convinced that being transparent, publicly acknowledging and owning the pain of the decision on real people, and pledging to do everything possible to help ease that pain, did more than just turn around an uncomfortable radio interview. It began the process of healing for all involved.
 
It’s too bad Michigan State University can’t learn that lesson.
 
MSU is circling the legal and PR wagons around its leadership, President Lou Anna Simon in particular, over the monstrous case of Larry Nassar, an MSU sports doctor convicted of seven counts of criminal sexual conduct and accused of hundreds more. According to an investigative article in the Detroit News, at least 14 university staff persons were told about Nassar over the years, yet he continued to molest young athletes until his arrest in 2016.
 
What Nassar’s victims faced—a story being told in heartbreaking detail as 101 of them make statements ahead of his sentencing next week—is nothing short of horrific.
 
Yet every statement and action by MSU fails to recognize that horror. No empathy for the victims. No support for the heroic women confronting Nassar in court, in full view of TV cameras, recounting the hell he put them through. No acknowledgement that the university could have, should have, stopped this monster years ago.
 
Instead, we get a throw-staff-under-the-bus statement from Simon, who claims she told her people to “play it straight up” when the reports of Nassar’s evil acts emerged years ago.
 
Then there’s the stunningly heartless statement from MSU’s Board of Trustees on Friday essentially complaining about people calling the university “tone-deaf, unresponsive and insensitive” when they believe MSU “has listened and heard the victims” and has taken the bold move of … wait for it … asking the Attorney General for a review.
 
Then the trustees dumped a truckload of road salt in the wound by declaring Simon “is the right leader for the university and has our support.”
 
To which Simon, given a perfect opportunity to demonstrate that she and the university really aren’t tone-deaf, unresponsive and insensitive, said this: “I continue to appreciate the confidence of the Board and the many people who have reached out to me, and to them, who have the best interests of MSU at heart. I have always done my best to lead MSU and I will continue to do so today and tomorrow.”
 
Think about that phrase: “The best interests of MSU.”
 
Those interests apparently have nothing to do with supporting the victims of sexual assault. Those interests apparently have nothing to do with empathy and compassion for women who have been traumatized.
 
What those “best interests” do involve, it appears, is MSU not giving a damn about those women.
 
As a public relations professional who has counseled clients—and at times personally stood—before the business end of microphones, cameras and reporter’s notebooks in crisis situations, I understand the discomfort. I get the anxiety. But none of that excuses what’s fundamental to the practice of PR: truth, transparency, accountability, empathy, ethics, and a sincere willingness to listen, learn and take positive action.
 
Michigan State University demonstrates none of that.
 
I’m far from the first communicator to call out MSU on this debacle. (This spot-on analysis by PR guru Matt Friedman is worth your time.) Yet the tone-deaf behavior goes on. Maybe the lawyers are running the game, because the alternative is more disheartening: people in my field coaching Simon and her staff with the most unethical, outrageous counsel imaginable.
 
Lou Anna Simon must own this tragedy and resign. Every trustee should exit as quickly as feasible. Every person who knew about Nassar and did nothing should be fired. New leadership should step in, acknowledge the mistakes, own the pain, and start listening to and working with the victims.
 
Healing will take a very long time. It’s way past time for Simon and MSU to get the healing started.

Back in 1983, the year President Ronald Reagan signed the holiday into law, I wasn’t excited about Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I had my doubts that Dr. King would approve. He worked (and tragically died) for change, not for a day off. How does a three-day weekend honor his dream? How does a holiday advance the cause of equity and racial healing?
 
I was short-sighted—mostly. Over the years, I’ve come to embrace the day. I celebrate Dr. King’s life, turn a shamed and critical eye to my own shortcomings, and recommit myself to doing my part to build a more equitable world. And I applaud as many in our nation pause to consider how much more work must be done.
 
But then comes Tuesday … and Wednesday ….
 
Pretty soon, our hearts and minds turn to the weekend ahead, bemoaning the shorter break. The words of Dr. King fade into the hubbub of daily life—or worse, are dismissed, and even decried, by those who still question his work and his dream.
 
When it comes to racism and inequity, the past few years have been eye-opening for me. With the help of compassionate friends, I’ve worked at removing the blinders that, even now, keep me from recognizing privilege and seeing disparity. I’ve listened to those who face racism daily, both overt and subtle; I’ve come to understand how it puts up barriers and poisons (and often ends) lives.
 
Shockingly, as I’ve shared this journey with others, I’ve been pushed back. I’ve heard age-old excuses and rationalizations, from “I don’t see color” to “That’s just an isolated incident” to “Hey, I have black friends” to “But what about drugs/gangs/parenting/violence/all lives matter/(fill in the blank)?”
 
And then comes Tuesday … and Wednesday ….
 
That’s the challenge. That’s where the concern I had back in ’83 is realized. For many, our national commitment to equity and racial healing boils down to a single day. We post an MLK meme, we pay our annual penance, and then we move on.
 
That’s not the formula for meaningful change. That’s not the call to action that Dr. King set before us. His call is a daily commitment to not ignore the angry voices stirring the darkness of what was, to not surrender to the inadequacy of what is, but to strive with all our hearts for the hope of what must be.
 
With that commitment, let Tuesday come. Bid Wednesday dawn. Welcome Thursday and Friday and every day that we work together, that we move forward united, every race and creed, ever closer to the mountaintop.