Inaction carries its own cost. The behavior escalates.
When corporations bind their identities to celebrity, they implicitly accept the moral weight of that person's public conduct. Three cases — Globo's hesitation over actress Cássia Kis, Adidas's years-long tolerance of Kanye West's escalating provocations, and the Brooklyn Nets' eventual suspension of Kyrie Irving — reveal how institutional inertia, amplified by cognitive bias, transforms manageable crises into lasting reputational wounds. The question these companies face is not merely commercial but ethical: at what point does silence become endorsement, and at what cost does a corporation finally choose its stated values over its sunk investments?
- Globo finds itself paralyzed between its public commitment to diversity and its reluctance to fire Cássia Kis, even as internal compliance complaints pile up and her homophobic statements continue to circulate.
- Adidas spent years absorbing Kanye West's controversies — from remarks trivializing slavery to open antisemitism — before a two-minute phone call ended a partnership worth $1.8 billion in annual sales, costing the company $246 million in profit in a single year.
- The Brooklyn Nets and Nike acted swiftly against Kyrie Irving after he amplified antisemitic content, demonstrating that decisive action, though painful, limits the damage that prolonged indecision compounds.
- Psychologists identify the ostrich effect and the sunk cost fallacy as the twin forces that trap corporate leaders — the refusal to see bad news clearly, and the inability to abandon what has already cost so much.
- As ESG standards become financial imperatives and not just reputational ones, companies like Globo — whose debt is held by foreign funds demanding ethical compliance — face a shrinking window in which inaction remains a viable strategy.
When a corporation signs a celebrity, it signs a bet on that person's future conduct. In an era of political fracture and social media amplification, that bet can go wrong fast — and the longer a company waits to respond, the deeper the damage runs.
Brazilian actress Cássia Kis spent four decades building a celebrated career before a series of public statements unraveled it. She declared same-sex relationships a "destruction of human life" and appeared at an anti-democratic protest in prayer. For Globo — a network publicly committed to diversity and ESG principles — the situation became untenable. Yet the company has done almost nothing. Kis remains on air in the soap opera Travessia, and Globo's leadership, caught between the show's Bolsonaro-supporting author and the fear of making Kis a martyr, has chosen paralysis. At least ten internal compliance complaints against her sit unresolved. The longer Globo waits, the more its stated values ring hollow.
Adidas offers the starkest cautionary tale. The Yeezy collaboration with Kanye West — now Ye — represented over 40 percent of the company's profits. When Ye told TMZ in 2018 that Black Americans had chosen enslavement, Adidas knew it had a problem. Its CEO spent years deflecting rather than acting. Other partners — Gap, Balenciaga, Vogue — fled. Adidas endured, until Ye's antisemitic remarks in October finally forced a break. The cost: $246 million in lost profit that year alone. The delay had transformed a manageable crisis into a catastrophic one.
The Brooklyn Nets and Nike chose a different path with Kyrie Irving. After Irving posted antisemitic content and refused to clearly denounce it, the Nets suspended him without pay — forfeiting over $36 million in salary. Nike moved even faster, canceling his sneaker line immediately. The company had learned from prior experience severing ties with Neymar and Lance Armstrong: speed limits damage.
Psychology explains the hesitation. The ostrich effect leads executives to avoid confronting negative information; the sunk cost fallacy binds them to relationships they have invested too much to abandon. Together, these biases turn a difficult decision into an impossible one — until the moment it becomes unavoidable, and far more costly. The lesson across all three cases is the same: companies that act on their values quickly pay a short-term price. Those that wait pay a much larger one.
When a major corporation signs a celebrity to a lucrative deal, the relationship begins with optimism. But in an age of political fracture and social media amplification, that partnership becomes a minefield. One misstep by the famous person can drag the entire company into the wreckage—and the longer the company waits to act, the worse the damage becomes.
Brazilian actress Cássia Kis spent four decades building a celebrated career. Then, in a series of public statements and appearances, she dismantled it. In an interview with journalist Leda Nagle, Kis declared that same-sex couples threaten the family unit and that homosexual relationships constitute a "destruction of human life." Shortly after, she appeared at an anti-democratic protest on her knees in prayer. For a broadcast network that has positioned itself as a champion of diversity and inclusion, the situation became untenable—yet Globo has chosen to do almost nothing.
The network issued a statement affirming its commitment to diversity and denying that it had censored Kis or planned to fire her. She remains on air in the soap opera Travessia. But this middle-ground approach, this attempt to distance itself from the problem without actually addressing it, is precisely the wrong move. Globo has received at least ten compliance complaints against Kis from its own employees, alleging that she yells at colleagues and makes derogatory comments. The company's leadership is watching carefully, but two factors have paralyzed decision-making: the soap's author, Gloria Perez, is also a Bolsonaro supporter, making it difficult to simply reduce Kis's role; and firing her now, in the heat of the moment, risks turning her into a martyr. Yet inaction carries its own cost. When a company tolerates the behavior of a prominent public figure, it signals acceptance. The behavior typically escalates, and the company bleeds credibility until the situation becomes unsustainable.
The Kanye West and Adidas partnership offers a cautionary tale. West, now known as Ye, created one of the world's most successful commercial collaborations with the German sportswear giant. The Yeezy brand represented over 40 percent of Adidas's profits—roughly $1.8 billion in annual sales. Yet the relationship began to fray years before it finally snapped. In 2018, when Ye told TMZ that Black Americans had chosen to remain enslaved for four hundred years, Adidas knew it had a problem. The company's CEO, Kasper Rorsted, spent years deflecting the issue in interviews rather than confronting it directly. The controversies multiplied. The company endured. Then came Ye's antisemitic remarks in October, and Adidas could no longer hold the line. The breakup came via a two-minute phone call. The cost to Adidas: $246 million in lost profit that year alone. Other companies—Gap, Balenciaga, Anna Wintour at Vogue—had already fled. But Adidas's delay meant it absorbed far more reputational damage than it needed to.
The Brooklyn Nets faced a similar test with basketball star Kyrie Irving. After Irving posted antisemitic content and refused to unequivocally reject antisemitism in a press conference, the team suspended him without pay—a contract worth over $36 million that year. Irving's refusal to clearly denounce the hatred he had amplified left the organization no choice. Nike, Irving's shoe sponsor, moved even faster, suspending its agreement immediately and canceling the launch of the Kyrie 8 sneaker. The company had learned from experience: it had severed ties with Neymar after sexual abuse allegations and with Lance Armstrong over doping. Nike understood that speed matters.
Psychology offers insight into why companies like Adidas and Globo hesitate. One culprit is the ostrich effect—a cognitive bias in which our minds refuse to acknowledge negative information about reality. Another is the sunk cost fallacy: because Adidas had invested so much money and reputation in Ye, the company's leadership felt psychologically bound to the relationship, unable to walk away even as the damage mounted. It is the same bias that keeps people watching a terrible movie to the end because they have already paid for the ticket.
Globo faces additional pressure because it is Brazil's most scrutinized media company. The network has committed itself to ESG standards—environmental, social, and governance practices—and joined the UN Global Compact. Its debt, just over $1 billion, is largely held by foreign funds and banks that increasingly demand adherence to these principles. A company that ignores ESG standards finds it more expensive to borrow. Yet Globo's tolerance of Kis undermines its stated values. The company has also been patient with actor José de Abreu and his various controversies on the left side of the political spectrum. But the calculus is the same regardless of ideology: the longer Globo waits, the more its credibility erodes.
The path forward is clear, even if it is costly in the short term. By breaking quickly with Irving, Nike avoided the slow-motion disaster that befell Adidas. Public expectations of corporations have shifted. People no longer accept statements of principle; they demand to see those principles in action. Globo will face attacks from Kis's supporters if it acts decisively. But it is better to be known as the company that ended a relationship over anti-democratic and homophobic conduct than as the company that waited until the pressure became unbearable. The longer the wait, the worse the wound.
Notable Quotes
When a company tolerates the behavior of a prominent public figure, it signals acceptance. The behavior typically escalates, and the company bleeds credibility until the situation becomes unsustainable.— Analysis of corporate decision-making patterns
Globo has a very different exposure than normal corporate exposure. The connection we have with society brings even greater responsibility to the compliance area, because these issues have a different public interest.— Carolina Bueno, Globo's director of risk and compliance
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a company like Globo hesitate to act, even when its own employees are filing complaints?
Because the company is caught between two fears. Fire the actress and you look like a censor. Keep her and you look complicit. But that paralysis is itself a choice—and it's the more expensive one.
The Adidas case seems like a clear warning. Why didn't they move faster?
They had invested $1.8 billion in the relationship. That kind of sunk cost makes your brain resist the obvious decision. You keep thinking the next quarter will be better, the next statement will calm things down. It never does.
Is there a difference between what Cássia Kis said and what Kanye West said?
The targets are different, the contexts are different. But the pattern is identical: a famous person says something that violates the company's stated values, the company tries to thread the needle, and the public doesn't accept half-measures.
Nike moved fast with Kyrie Irving. Did that protect them?
Mostly, yes. They took the hit immediately and moved on. Adidas dragged it out for years and bled far more. Speed is its own form of damage control.
What does Globo's ESG commitment actually mean if they tolerate this?
It means nothing. Or worse—it means the company is willing to say one thing and do another. Foreign investors are watching. That inconsistency costs money.
So the right move is always to fire the person?
Not always. But when a public figure's behavior contradicts the company's core values, and they refuse to change, yes. The alternative is slow reputational decay.