By Ray Hennessey

For decades, one of the cardinal rules of crisis communications was simple: Don’t feed the story.

The logic made sense. If media published something that was largely unfavorable, responding publicly could extend the news cycle and amplify allegations that might otherwise fade. Particularly today, given our diminished attention spans, many crisis comms folks have preached silence, or at least restraint, as the wiser path.

But the media environment has changed, and this week I’ve been struck by how Bernard Arnault offered a masterclass in how the old rules no longer apply.

France’s Le Monde’s published a six-part investigation into the longtime LVMH leader’s business empire, political influence, media holdings, family dynamics, and succession planning, and none of it was very flattering. It was what we politely call a “hit piece.” And it certainly hit hard, particularly when it came to family dynamics. (Note: While LVHM stands for Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy; they’re a completely different branch of the Hennessey clan than from where I hail. However, given that Arnault is one of the wealthiest men in the world, I’m happy to offer myself up for adoption, family angst notwithstanding.)

Arnault may be the ultimate embodiment of old school, but he showed everyone the value of new tricks when it comes to media. He joined X and published a lengthy open letter titled “Merci” on LVMH’s X account. Rather than issuing a sterile corporate statement, his post was filled with wit and humanity, essentially thanking Le Monde for painting him in a better light than others had done in the past. It was an engaging and endearing post, and it won over many of the commenters who read it.

It wasn’t just the brilliance of the prose, though, that teaches us a lesson. It was the platform he used.

Historically, if someone wanted to challenge a newspaper’s framing of events, they had limited options. They could request a correction, write a letter to the editor, grant interviews, or hope another outlet would tell the story differently. The media largely controlled the microphone, and that means indefinite outcomes. As the old cliché went, “Never pick a fight with anyone who buys ink by the barrel.” (Yes, yes, no one uses ink anymore, but you get the idea.)

Today, that’s no longer true. Social media has fundamentally altered the balance of power between institutions and the subjects they cover. A CEO, politician, celebrity, or business owner can now bypass traditional gatekeepers and speak directly to customers, employees, investors, and the broader public. They don’t need permission to publish. They don’t need an editor’s approval. They own their distribution. Arnault showed that he understood that reality perfectly.

His response wasn’t really aimed at Le Monde. It was aimed at everyone who had read the series and was forming opinions about him and his family. By publishing the letter himself, he ensured that readers encountered not just the newspaper’s interpretation of events, but his own voice, too. In that sense, he transformed himself from a subject of the story into a participant. He was the protagonist rather than the villain.

Equally important, he didn’t sound like the result of a crisis communications team locking itself in a conference room to draft talking points. He sounded human. He joked about being described as the “last royal family of France.” He teased the newspaper’s observations about his family’s appearance. He closed by noting that he would continue doing Le Monde’s crossword puzzles because they’re excellent. In short, he was charming.

That authenticity matters. Audiences are increasingly skeptical of institutional messaging but surprisingly receptive to leaders who appear genuine, even when pushing back against criticism, which we stress here in our work at Vocatus.

It’s always a win when you’re able to confidently tell your own story before others permanently define it for you. That’s what Arnault accomplished here.

The old crisis communications playbook asked whether a company should respond. The modern playbook asks a different question: If you have a direct line to your stakeholders, why would you surrender the narrative entirely to someone else?