Making risk management work (3): The framework

This post is part of the Content Is The Web risk management series.

Risk management replaces your old sign-off process. As part 2 explained, it changes what you ask as you work though content with other people. Once you have a big pile of information from these risk reporters, this post explains how it needs to be sorted. The next post introduces some of the tools you’ll use.

The risk management framework makes the entire process as objective as it can be. It rates each risk’s likelihood and consequence on separate scales, then produces a severity measurement. This determines how acceptable the risk is (or isn’t), and shows you what risks are most important.

The short version:

This needs managerial buy-in, so work with higher-ups. Classify risk consequences, then set objective grades for each type of consequence, and for likelihood. Put those grades on a grid, and overlay severity ratings. Hey presto, you have a risk management framework.

This needs managerial buy-in, so work with higher-ups

This framework is the key to consistent, objective risk management. It needs to be trustworthy and taken seriously. It essentially sets rules for your workplace, so you need senior-level people to agree with it. That means getting the right bosses to approve the framework in the first place.

The “right boss” here is the person senior enough to balance the risk/reward scale on behalf of your company. Every risk carries a reward, remember, and this framework ultimately decides which risks are worth taking.

Classify risk consequences…

Every risk has at least one consequence, but they’re not directly comparable. In part 2 I used examples of risks to a company’s brand and to customer satisfaction, which can’t be compared directly. Other risks might have consequences that are financial (they cost money), reputational (they make you look bad), legal (they get you in trouble with the courts), or competitive (they make it harder for you to be the best in your market).

There’s no canonical list but you want between 5 and 10 categories, each narrow enough to group only similar things. Remember that the category pool needs to be wide enough that every risk fits somewhere.

After you’ve held a few risk conversations, you’ll start to see which categories will work for your organisation.

…then set objective grades for each type of consequence…

The reason you need groups of comparable consequences is, obviously, so you can compare them. For your framework you need a small scale that you can sort consequences into. I’m going to use a simple example with only 3 steps on my scale. That might be as much as you need, too. Bigger definitely isn’t better: I have yet to see any value in even a 5-step scale.

My three steps for consequences are:

  1. Barely noticeable
  2. Bad
  3. Catastrophic

Now to define those three terms. Objectivity is crucial here, which means making a different, close-fitting set of definitions for each risk category.

For each risk category, you’re labelling the three-step scale with measurable amounts.

Some scales are obvious. For financial risks it’s about the dollar amount (if you have different levels of managers with different spending approvals, they can make useful cut-off points). A $1,000 consequence might be ‘barely noticeable’ to your company, with $10,000 (or less) being ‘bad’, and any more counting as ‘catastrophic’.

Others need a bit more thought. Some good scales I’ve seen were based on:

  • Who’d be involved. Physical risks, if they play out, might require self-administered first aid (like a sticking plaster) when they’re ‘barely noticeable’, a doctor if they’re ‘bad’, or a visit from the coroner if they’re ‘catastrophic’.
  • The effort to put things right. Legal issues, for example might require a bit of in-house time writing a letter, or serious hours negotiating a settlement, or weeks spent on court appearances.
  • Spread. One of my favourites was a scale for reputational damage, based on the level of media coverage the event would receive. The scale went from “grumpy email from the boss” (bad) through “national media coverage” to “boss appearing on international television” (catastrophic).

What’s important is that the definitions make sense to your organisation. For every risk category, line up fitting definitions at each step of your scale.

…and set equally objective grades for likelihood.

This is easier than the consequence scale, because there’s only one version of it. Likelihoods involve people: How many people will this risk be likely to affect?

Sticking with a three-step scale, let’s say that risks might affect:

  1. Hardly anyone
  2. Only some people
  3. Almost everybody

Rather than absolute numbers (“10,000 people is only some people”), look at things proportionately. If you’re working with content that could expect 5,000 views a week, how many of those people are likely to be affected by the risk? You might end up with a scale of:

  • Hardly anyone: Under 0.1% (or 5 people a week)
  • Only some people: Up to 10% (5-500 people a week)
  • Almost everybody: More than 10% (5000 people or more)

By using proportions, you can measure content’s risks without the popularity of the content making things more difficult.

Put those grades on a grid, and overlay severity ratings

This is where the term “framework” becomes slightly more literal. Draw up a table with your likelihood grades on one axis and consequence grades on the other.

Hardly anyone Only some people Almost everybody
Catastrophic
Bad
Barely noticeable

This table is going to determine each risk’s severity. There are four measurements of risk severity, which tell you what to do with the risk next:

  1. Mitigate: The risk is unacceptable – it’s too likely to occur, or its consequence is too major, or both. Something needs to change.
  2. Revisit: While not as bad as above, the risk needs to be addressed. Usually only one aspect (likelihood or consequence) will be a concern. If there’s no way to reduce the risk without lowering content quality, it might be a risk worth taking.
  3. Accept: The risk is acknowledged, but so unlikely and/or inconsequential that it’s not worth addressing any more.
  4. (Not a risk): This looked or sounded like a risk, but once rated turned out to not matter at all.

These severities will spread through the table from top-right to bottom-left. Remember to have a senior manager on hand to approve the layout here – it determines what’s going to get your time and attention, and what’s going to be published.

A typical example would be:

Hardly anyone Only some people Almost everybody
Catastrophic Revisit Mitigate Mitigate
Bad Acceptable Revisit Mitigate
Barely noticeable (Not a risk) Acceptable Revisit

Hey presto, you have a risk management framework

That’s the framework done. Now there’s a way to turn the information that you gather through conversations into sensible, objective decisions and to make sure that you’re putting your effort where it’s most useful.

As you work on risk mitigation, you’ll reduce the likelihood and consequence ratings and shift risks towards the bottom-left corner of your grid. Part 4 of this series introduces some risk management tools that help this process run well.

Making risk management work (2): Holding conversations

This post is part of the Content Is The Web risk management series.

You know the roles and definitions that risk management is based on, so now we turn to how to talk about risks with your risk reporters. The next post introduces the tools you need to manage them.

(Risk reporters used to be stakeholders and points of sign-off. If that’s news to you, let me repeat the link to How risk management works (1) – Roles and definitions.)

It’s your decision to talk to risk reporters one-by-one, or all together as a group. It’s most important, especially at first, that you do actually talk. The old days of sending drafts and receiving tracked changes or free-form comments are over. Your risk reporters need to give you specific information that they probably haven’t been asked for before. You’ll need to prompt them, ask follow-up questions, and really get to know what they’re thinking. Could you do that over email? Only slowly, if at all.

It probably sounds like this will take a long time. At first it might, but by building up understanding and (hopefully) rapport, this working relationship will pay off in time. And you’ll end up with better content, too.

Here’s the short version:

Never ask “can I publish this?” again. Instead, ask “If I did publish this, what could happen?”. Talk about bad things that might happen, and in each case get specific about likelihood and consequence. Be open, be receptive, and use other people’s expertise.

Never ask “can I publish this?” again

Your old workflow was based on permissions: “Is this approved?”. With risk management, you’re not asking for approval anymore. Your risk reporters don’t hold a “stop/go” sign. Instead, they have information that you need to understand.

So throw away your old script and those old power relationships.

Instead, ask “If I did publish this, what could happen?”

The subtler question you ask instead is an “if”: “What effects might this draft content have if it becomes the final, public version?”

This new question does a few useful things:

  • It nudges people to think from the reader’s point of view
  • It encourages realism, rather than feedback about academic or unimportant things
  • It looks at content’s effect on the audience.

Talk about the content as if it’s live, and being read by real people. It might even help to use personas here. Dig into the information and impressions that you’re passing on.

Talk about bad things that might happen

Part 1 defined a risk as a bad thing that might happen. This is what you need to talk about. When you have it right, you end up with a risk statement.

“It seems wordy” isn’t a risk. “You’re missing our usual tone of voice” isn’t a risk. “You have the product measurements wrong” isn’t a risk, either. But this is the sort of thing that your colleagues or clients will be used to saying. By controlling the conversation you can tease the actual risks out.

Looking at things from the reader’s point of view helps a lot. The content is wordy: So what? So…the reader might not finish the page. And the info at the bottom is really important.

The risk statement, then, is that skim readers might miss the important info at the bottom of the page.

The tone of voice doesn’t sound right. What’s the effect of that? People who read a lot of our stuff won’t get the familiar feeling that we give them. We might sound like we’re being fake.

Or, as a risk statement: The tone might confuse people who know our brand well.

Product measurements being wrong is an easy one to turn into a risk statement. People might buy something that doesn’t do what they want.

It’s not a coincidence that every risk statement includes the word “might”.

Get specific about likelihood…

For every risk, get into detail about who could be affected. Hone in on that word “might”.

How many people might miss that important last paragraph? If your pages are usually around 100 words but this draft is a 10,000-word diatribe, probably quite a lot. But if it’s only 120 words, more people will stick around ’til the end.

The tone of voice risk is only going to affect people who already expect a certain voice from you. The better known you are, the bigger the risk’s likelihood.

The product measurement risk is very likely to play out if you’re describing a 2-bedroom house as having 5 bedrooms. Everybody’s going to pick up on that one. But if you’re saying that a 512GB hard drive is only 500GB, fewer people are going to notice.

…and get specific about consequence, too

A risk’s consequence is completely separate from likelihood. Consequences happen when risks play out.

In every case take the “might” out of the risk statement and use “when” instead.

When people miss the important info at the bottom of the page, what happens next? Maybe they miss a special deal and overpay. Maybe they don’t see that the product isn’t shipping until next year, or never see that an updated version is also available.

When our tone of voice confuses people who know our brand well, the consequence is a change in their brand perception, which works against other branding that took a lot of effort to get right.

Finally, the product measurement case: When people buy something that doesn’t do what they want, you might end up with anything from unhappy customers to legal problems.

Be open and receptive

You’ll find that risk conversations like these are quite different to the way you’ve worked through content approvals in the past. You’re asking much deeper, better questions, so you’ll end up with a lot more information.

This is a good thing.

Getting your risk reporters to describe things from the reader’s point of view, and to properly break down likelihoods and consequences, brings clarity. Chances are that neither of you will have thought about your content like this before. You’ll be surprised by what you come up with, what ends up being important, and what doesn’t.

This is everyone else’s time to say what they think. Accept what you’re hearing and let the tools you’re using – more on those in part 3 – direct attention where you need it most.

Use other people’s expertise

Another good thing about these conversations is the way they show you how other people think. It’s a chance to learn from experts, whether a brand manager explaining the consequences of losing brand voice, or a lawyer detailing what happens when the small print isn’t there.

You’ll walk away smarter, which is good in itself but also means that next time you’re working on similar stuff, you’ll have more knowledge and be better at your job.

Next up, part 3 describes a framework to make sense of all the information you draw out of risk conversations. Then part 4 looks at the tools you use as you manage risks.

Doing it wrong: Ticketmaster’s email footer

Today’s example of how not to do things comes from Ticketmaster’s email footer, which has a delightful dark grey on black thing going on.

ticketmaster

At least the link text is visible. Unfortunately, in the first case that text is “click here”.

What could they be hiding? Let’s look at that again:

ticketmaster-highlight

Bastards.

Update

Part two: If you’re going to be inaccessible, you might as well be funny

Ok, so I just bought tickets from Ticketmaster. But I had to decode this wonderful CAPTCHA first.

CAPTCHA text: technicolor yawn

Don’t hide bad news behind weak headings

If you have good news, you make your message as clear as possible. Do the same thing with bad news, for the sake of your readers.

When you book a flight with Air New Zealand, they send you an email. You only need to read the first line to know what’s up.

Your booking has been completed

Then, when Air New Zealand are about to fly you somewhere, and they have a few things they think you might like to know about the flight, and what to do while you’re away, they send you an email. You only need to read the first line to know what it’s about.

Hi Max! Here are some useful tips from Air New Zealand for your trip to Sydney.

But when Air New Zealand hear that their name is being used by criminal bastards trying to fool people into giving up their credit card details, the email is a little bit different.

An update from Air New Zealand

I’d argue that the third message is the most important one, but because it’s bad news the headline is weak and empty.

If you’ve decided to publish a message, the rules of useful headings and being succinct don’t change, whether it’s good news or bad. No-one wants to be the messenger in a situation like this one, but put your readers before your apprehension and be straight up. It makes things easier and quicker to read, and shows your audience that you’re a strong communicator, even on a bad day.

How to kneecap the IPCC with bad workflow

Politics, science, climate change, and the worst possible approval process

The article is behind The Economist’s paywall (and in its May 10, 2014 edition), under the playful heading Inside the sausage factory. It’s about the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), and the process its members follow when pulling a short (30-ish page) summary out of a big report longer than anyone will ever read. The heading is unfair: A sausage factory would, by way of comparison, be a wholesome joyride.

The authors write a draft summary. Each sentence of the draft is projected onto a big screen in a giant hall. Officials then propose changes to the text; authors decide whether the changes are justified according to the full thousand-page report. Eventually a consensus is supposed to be reached, the sentence is approved or rejected, the chairman bangs a gavel and moves on to the next sentence.

Is this not the maddest possible system for creating coherent content about anything, let alone something as globally important as climate change? Is it any wonder that facts and opinions are treated interchangeably in so many debates about it? In letting the jobs of author and editor be so thoroughly perverted by a giant committee of conflicted interests, the IPCC has managed to ruin the whole idea of writing stuff down. It’s mindblowing and breathtaking and heartbreaking, all at the same time.

Professor Robert Stavins, of Harvard University, was a lead author on the report chapter about international co-operation. Delegates from countries all around the world hacked at his work until “three-quarters of his original draft was rejected and what remains is a list of disconnected facts, not a guide to the state of knowledge”. Oh, and the distillation of the report that these people are supposedly working on? It’s called the Summary for Policymakers. It still has that name, even though it’s been decapitated by representatives of the governments that we expect to make policy.

Perhaps this is the ultimate example of taking user testing too far.

As well as scientists and political delegates, the IPCC also has moral philosophers. One of them is Professor John Broome, from Oxford University. You can imagine his experience of a few hundred veto-weilding political appointees attacking his work “as though it were a legal document rather than a scientific report”. In fact, you needn’t imagine, because he’s written about the “extraordinary” way things worked. In so describing it, he displays the same remarkable restraint that lies behind the article’s title, At the IPCC. The details aren’t so innocuous.

During a brief break, the delegates formed a huddle in the corner, trying to agree text between themselves. We, who would be named as authors of the final product, were left as spectators. Eventually we were presented with a few sentences that, we were told, the developed countries would reject, and an alternative few sentences that, we were told, the developing countries would reject.

As he left the room, one delegate privately advised us not to depart far from his version of the text, because his delegation was very close to deleting the whole section anyway. This was the moment when I began to enjoy the whole event. The threat was not frightening. We privately pointed out in return that, if our section was deleted, we would no longer be authors of the SPM (Summary for Policymakers). We would be free to go to the press and publish what we liked. Moreover, all the ethics would have been deleted from the SPM. That would be embarrassing to whoever had deleted it, since the IPCC had been making a big show of incorporating ethics into its report.

In the world of IPCC content creation, this is what counts as a happy ending:

Some brief paragraphs on ethics survived all the way to the approved final version. They have been mauled, and their content diminished, but they are not entirely empty. We were lucky.

All of this makes it a lot harder to get angry at the sort of workflow that we put with in our day jobs. Four approvers, maybe five? It could literally be fifty times worse.

Making risk management work (1): Roles and definitions

This post is part of the Content Is The Web risk management series.

So you already know that your sign-off process slows things down and makes it difficult to work with others. But you still need some way to hear everyone who should have a say, and to make sure that your web content is fit for purpose before you publish it.

Here’s something I picked up from an employer that could never guarantee 100% safety to everyone – the armed forces. It’s a risk management system, and it lets you gather more detailed information than you get from a typical sign-off process, while keeping you in control of your content.

In short:

It’s a risk if it might cause something bad. Risks are expressed in a short risk statements. Every risk has its own likelihood and consequence, which both contribute to its severity. More severe risks need to be mitigated, but you can accept less severe ones. And you’re going to record all this in a risk register.

It’s going to take a couple of posts to explain this properly. This one defines a few keys terms and explains the roles that people play in managing risks. Once that’s all set up, part 2 explains how to talk about risks.

Terminology

It’s a risk if it might cause something bad

Two things define a “risk”. Firstly, a risk is the possibility that something might go wrong. Not putting a big bunch of small print on a landing page? There’s a risk you’ll get done for hiding important details. Trying on a new tone of voice? There’s a risk that you’ll create confusion around your brand. Giving the work experience kid the password to your company’s Twitter account for the weekend? You get the idea…

On the upside, risks carry rewards. There’s no point taking a risk if there’s nothing to be gained. Less small print gives you shorter, more appealing landing pages. A new voice might carry more appeal than your current one. You need to take a proper break for a couple of days, without angry customers’ tweets rattling your phone every 10 minutes. These are all rewards.

Risks are expressed in a short risk statements

A risk statement quickly and clearly describes exactly what might go wrong. It’s always about people, and it always includes the word “might”.

To take the examples above:

  • Readers might not see everything that’s important about our products
  • People might not recognise which company they’re dealing with, or might not connect with us in the same way as before.

If something is going wrong right now it’s an issue, not a risk

If a problem is already happening, it’s too late for risk management. In the calm parlance of the military, you have an “issue”. Just clarifying that before I don’t mention again.

Every risk has its own likelihood

Since a risk is the possibility the something might happen, it follows that some risks are more likely to actually play out than others. You need to quantify this likelihood for every risk. More on gathering the right information in part 2, and what to do with it in part 3.

…and consequence

If a risk does occur, something goes wrong. This is the consequence, and again it’s something you have to quantify. (And, again, the rest of this series will tell you more.)

You’ll need broad categories to sort consequences into. For this introduction I’m going to look at financial, reputational, and legal consequences, but this is nowhere near a full list.

…which both contribute to its severity

The severity of each risk is determined by both its likelihood and consequence. The more likely it is, the more severe. The worse its consequences are, the more severe it is as well.

More severe risks need to be mitigated

Mitigation can make a risk less likely, or make its consequence less serious, or both. By mitigating risks, you make them more acceptable.

…but you can accept less severe ones

A acceptable risk is one that you’re willing to take. Ideally, risks you accept are a mix of:

  • quite unlikely
  • low-consequence
  • relatively rewarding.

Or they might just be unavoidable.

And you’re going to record all this in a risk register

Yes, we love documentation. A simple risk register does two things: it lets everyone see full details about each risk (whether you’re still working on it or have accepted it), and it’s also how you’ll be able to see all the risks that apply to a given piece of content. This doesn’t need to be complex. A spreadsheet ought to do the trick.

People and roles

Risk reporters tell you what might go wrong

The good news is that you don’t have to work out all of this likelihood and consequence stuff for yourself. Remember those stakeholders who used to sign your content off, or maybe just get an FYI when you were working on their stuff? In most cases you can recast them as risk reporters.

Just like their name says, risk reporters report risks. You need a range of risk reporters with different skills, much like your old sign-off tube. Each risk reporter has the job of pointing out problems that your content might cause. But they’re not just doomsayers: they also have to give you the information you need to properly define the risk’s likelihood and consequence. Ideally they’ll have a few mitigation ideas as well.

This job only goes as far as pointing things out. There’s no decision-making involved. That’s an important difference to the old sign-off way of doing things, which gave a series of people a genuine “yes/no” decision about your content.

Even though this can feel like a loss of power, you’ll probably find the most people quite like being asked to explain things from their point of view. And that’s another difference – as you cover each risk, you’re going to learn a lot more about how, say, legal think when they review content. All you empathy junkies out there in content-land are gonna love this.

A single risk owner has the final say

Remember how risk reporters don’t make any actual decisions? That’s because a single, central person does. The risk owner decides what mitigation work you do, and which risks you accept as they are. Whether the risk is financial, reputational or legal, the risk owner doesn’t change.

The risk owner has a full understanding of what the content you’re looking at is doing – who it’s for, why it’s important, and what it needs to achieve. Their view is wider than a standard legal or marketing stakeholder. Seniority helps, too, because accepting risks is a lot like approving costs.

Do everything you can to keep risk ownership close to content production. Since the risk owner has to balance risk and reward, make it someone for whom the rewards of high-quality content matter.

Putting this all together

How risk management works (2): Holding conversations explains how to ask the right questions of your risk reporters. Part 3 explains the tools you’ll use as you manage risks.