I’ve thought about this from time to time, most recently in the context of the story of Nadya Suleman, the mother of a rather notorious set of octuplets. Simply by nature of the rarity of her, uh, feat — having given birth to only the country’s second set of live octuplets — she was thrust into the public eye, though at first unnamed.

At that point, even before she was identified and before we heard rumors of a book deal or a (god, help us) reality television show, folks coast to coast (and beyond, I’m sure) were discussing the whys and hows of giving birth to eight little critters and, in many cases, passing judgment. How could she? Why would she? Should she? Is she, or will she be receiving some sort of welfare or other public assistance?

At some point along the way, Ms. Suleman picked up the services of a PR firm — pro bono. In a sick turn of events, those PR pros have stepped down after having reportedly received death threats. That’s terrible and unfortunate, and it reminds me of high-profile cases in which certain lawyers receive similar treatment. What did the PR folks do wrong? Isn’t it at least as likely, if not more so, that they’re trying to do some good than they’re simply being opportunistic? And even if you believe they’re a little attention-hungry or whatever, death threats?!

Not that PR people need any more comparisons to lawyers (see the joke Shel shares here), but Ms. Suleman’s story really has me thinking (so I can get on with the point of my post, now that I have the context out of the way): Most folks I know believe in the fundamental importance of adequate legal representation when on trial in a court of law. But what about when someone is thrust into a trial in the court of public opinion? Isn’t a person entitled to the services of someone who can help them in their time of need?

To be clear, when I say “entitled,” I don’t necessarily mean they should get it for free. I don’t foresee, desire or expect a “public reputation defender” who functions as the PR equivalent of the court-appointed public defender. I do, however, believe that having your side of the story heard is something to which you’re entitled, and sometimes that requires professional help.

Photo courtesy of mindgutter on Flickr

This Ryan Jordan guy was within his rights to protect his identity. Who cares about the name under which he contributed to the site?

vs.

Who the hell does this guy think he is, anyway? He lied about who he was in a community based on trust and contributing to the greater good.

The Times article also discusses a New Yorker article about Ryan Jordan — or Essjay, as he’s known to Wikipedians — and while that whole bit of editorial “whoops, sorry” is interesting, I think the Times made a huge, glaring, ugly, smelly omission: What about the content?

The story of this misrepresented identity is interesting, but there’s zero discussion of the accuracy of this guy’s contributions to the site. The Times says:

In a discussion over the editing of the article with regard to the term “imprimatur,” as used in Catholicism, Essjay defended his use of the book “Catholicism for Dummies,” saying, “This is a text I often require for my students, and I would hang my own Ph.D. on it’s credibility.”

But we get no look into whether this or any other assertions made by Jordan were accurate. Regardless of how they were defended, isn’t anyone curious about the substance? Even the discussion page associated with Essjay’s Wikipedia entry has no detailed discussion about the material involved in this mess (that is, the discussion page yields on evidence of this discussion after a quick scan of the page — it’s a little too “inside baseball” to be read at length).

Even if this fact check has been done and is published somewhere — and I hope…I believe it is — why didn’t the New York Times (“All the news that’s fit to print” or some bullshit like that) tell me about it? I feel cheated, as if this newspaper article were misrepresenting itself, purporting to be “insightful” and perhaps even “investigatory,” when in reality, it’s little more than the journalistic equivalent of a 24-year-old from Kentucky lying about having a Ph.D.

The Boston Globe writes about blogs that cover politics and some alleged cases of astroturfing — that is, people committing acts of a fake-grass-roots nature. An interesting article, it is, but the part that caught my eye was this:

“You need to engage [bloggers] as if they are any other powerful constituency,” said Peter Greenberger of New Media Strategies, an Arlington, Va.-based consulting firm that works with candidates and corporations to improve their image on the Internet.

Greenberger said his firm was not working for any 2008 candidates, but had turned away requests by some candidates to woo activists through online “astroturf” campaigns. Astroturf, in political parlance, refers to campaigns organized by public relations firms to create a false image of grass-roots support. [emphasis mine]

Kudos to New Media Strategies for sticking to its code of ethics and not simply doing anything that brings money in the door. Who knows who these candidates were or how much fame and fortune were at stake here, but this is the kind of PR-business ethics I’m proud to read about.

The Post writes about a company in Arlington, Va., called New Media Strategies. NMS is a company that provides online monitoring services for clients ranging from movie studios to politicians. Reading the article makes this sound like a fun place to work for a combination geek-and-media-junkie like me. But they’re doing more than just monitoring, as the Post writes:

Over the past few years, the “online analysts” have helped the companies track their reputations, found ways to get their products noticed and joined online conversations to help steer them the way clients want them to go.

Monitoring and “steering”? What a deal!

Immediately, ethics concerns arise. Eagarly awaiting that part of the article — “I hope the write about…!” — I make the jump to the Post article’s second page, which reveals:

Curran said she is careful to acknowledge her connection to clients when it’s required. All online marketers have to walk a fine line when they work the blogosphere. Federal Trade Commission rules require them to identify their roles when they’re making a point on behalf of a client, but if they’re gossiping about the latest episode of “Desperate Housewives” they can legally be as anonymous as anyone else.

Disclosure “when it’s required”? “Can legally be” anonymous? Sure, maybe it’s legal, but hopefully the folks at Edelman/Wal-Mart have learned that there’s more to this than the law. All of us in public relations, marketing, advertising, communication and the like are trying hard to figure out how to do our jobs well in these wild and crazy times, and there are surely no set-in-stone rules right now. Still, I think most will say that only disclosing a professional, client-employee relationship in these types of forums only when legally required is not enough.

The Public Relations Society of America has a code of ethics (PDF) for its members that says, among other things on the topic of disclosure, “Reveal the sponsors for causes and interests represented.” The Word of Mouth Marketing Association, of which Edelman is a member, has a code of ethics, too, which Edelman helped create. WOMMA has set up a Web page dedicated to discussing Edelman and it’s lack of blogging disclosure.

All of this points one thing: Following the law isn’t enough when it comes to disclosure. Professional communicators should follow a strong code of ethics. I hope New Media Strategies has stronger ethics than this article depicts.

In the commercial, Hartman appears holding a Star Tribune and remarks that he is reading “the greatest newspaper in the world.” That comment, he said, was why he didn’t consult with editors before signing on with Sun Country. “I thought I was doing a favor for the Star Tribune. I say nothing about Sun Country. This was a free commercial for the Star Tribune.”

Hartman would not be where he is professionally if he were that naive.

What an uncomfortable situation he has created for his colleagues, particularly reporters covering the airlines, and for the three top managers — Publisher Keith Moyer, Editor Anders Gyllenhaal and Managing Editor Scott Gillespie — who determined what would and wouldn’t be the consequences for Hartman’s disregard of the Star Tribune’s ethics policies.

I understand the need for a strong sense of ethics in the newsroom. But at the same time, I’m a huge fan of common sense. Common sense and stern rules often butt heads, but for the sake of argument, let’s give this a try:

Ethics in the newsroom, yes, great. But Sid’s hardly part of the newsroom. Generally, newspapers make the “newsroom/not newsroom” distinction when explaining the separation between reporters and editors on one side and editorial writers and their colleagues on the other. But even within the newsroom, you’ll find columnists — the writers whose pictures run in the paper along with their column — whose work is different from completely impartial (in theory) reporting but still appears on the same page as that reported news.

More importantly, Sid is a damn sports columnist. I know that sports sections are probably among the most-read pages in the paper, but I’m too lazy to Google up the numbers to show it. At the same time, you’re retarded if you think sports coverage is on the same level as the content in the A section or the local news section. Hell, even the editorial and op-ed page — opinionated as they may be — are more newsworthy than the sports section.

Even when a news reporter is writing about a dull-ass city hall meeting or the like, it’s still more significant than box scores or “you’ll never believe what the goalie said in the locker room after the game” reporting. Considering the financial tumult in the newspaper business, though, I don’t think anyone’s going to seriously advocate dumping the sports section any time soon. I’d rather throw the sports section away to get to the business section than not have a newspaper.

Getting back to Sid and Sun Country, let’s throw a little common sense at the situation. Parry asks if reporters covering the airlines and related business issues will be able to do their jobs as well in light of this “disregard” for ethics, or if those reporters will be taken seriously, citing the possible perception of compromised integrity. Well, if those reporters honestly — and I do mean honestly, not just “honestly” when discussing the ethics of the situation and feel it necessary to sound righteous — think Sid’s commercial appearance prevents them from doing their jobs, fire those pussies.

I thought reporters were supposed to be hard-asses who don’t take “no” for an answer and want to stick it to the man (that link is a little joke) no matter the cost. If a sports columnist showing up in an ad — saying little more than to declare his newspaper is “the greatest newspaper in the world” — maybe the newspaper business should go belly up.

The man in the YouTube video claims that some people working to promote “Superman Returns” threw some video footage up on the ‘Tube and then magically that YouTube channel had more than 7,000 subscribers. Strange, YouTube’s “oneparkave” points out, because it seems this channel has more subscribers than collective video views.

This guy’s video, his effort to contribute to the good side of social media, is great. It’s a little dull, and he could have used a light behind the camera, but it’s great. It shows the raw, sincere power of a simple digital video and a true message.

This guy didn’t edit out his couple of stutters. He didn’t reshoot after his wife/girlfriend/sister/mom (probably mom yelled in the background. He just did his thing and expressed his frustration with the sheer lame-itude of the Superman pushers.

This is sad, and just another item on a long list of corporate screw-ups in the social media realm. Fake blogging from Wal-Mart (via Edelman) and McDonald’s – and god knows what else – and now Superman is cheating on YouTube. What’s next? Bono faking a blog from a starving village in Africa while swimming in the bright blue waters of the Carribean?

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