That’s why the recent settlement between the FTC and Reverb, the PR firm caught trying to game iTunes ratings with reviews by its own staff, is actually good for our industry. An expert quoted by the New York Times puts it more strongly. He says the settlement might be useful to PR firms who want to “resist clients who demand they play dirty.”

Wow. So, who is really responsible here? In this case, it seems like no one twisted arms at Reverb. MobileCrunch actually outed the firm last year for openly marketing its team of review-posting interns to help developers promote gaming apps. In settling with Reverb last week, the FTC warned again that paid endorsers, PR firms, and anyone benefiting through “material connections” must disclose the relationship.

And, Reverb isn’t alone. Anyone who frequents Yelp, amazon, or iTunes has learned to be skeptical of, um, creative writing. Last year, executives at Belkin were busted by The Daily Background for offering payment for positive reviews of its products, and for writing reviews themselves under anonymous handles. Retailer Ann Taylor was let off with an FTC warning after offering gift cards to bloggers in exchange for coverage. That was a move in the right direction, since previous guidelines had emphasized individual blogger responsibility.

But, the FTC hasn’t gone far enough with the latest wrist slap. To date, the penalty for astroturfing has been modest public humiliation. Maybe the risk of reputation damage. But though the Reverb case has, in fact, reverberated throughout our industry, no fine was involved, and the consent decree implies no wrongdoing. A hefty payment would be a more powerful deterrent. And, though Reverb seems the bad actor here, why not follow the money to the companies who actually subsidize the payola?

Only with real teeth in its regulations will the FTC will root out the bad Apples (pun intended.) In the meantime, if you’re shopping for apps, or gadgets, or just about anything, check out The Consumerist’s list of 30 Ways You Can Spot Fake Online Reviews. Let the buyer – and promoters – beware.

But, apologizing is also a key piece of the social CRM toolkit, which communicators are rapidly learning and adopting. Nowadays, customers don’t just get mad, they get online. That’s why I was fascinated by the recent profile on the Southwest Airlines apology team. The group’s mission: to identify situations where passengers are inconvenienced, or worse, and to extend a prompt apology on behalf of the company.

When it comes to making amends, there are many challenges, both legal and cultural. Some experts contend that the typical American a response to a problem or accusation is to deny or challenge it, rather than to issue a mea culpa. That might be okay in a personal situation, but, in business, a poorly communicated apology is very risky.  

What’s great about the Southwest apology team isn’t the fact of its existence. That’s not so unusual. But, naming the group, elevating it, and promoting its role says a lot about Southwest’s commitment to customer service – and its own brand reputation. It also offers some good lessons for the rest of us about how to say you’re sorry, whether publicly or otherwise.

Don’t delay. An apology that happens days or weeks after the offending incident is far less effective than one that comes within 48 hours. If it’s too late, it may only serve to remind the customer of something he’s already forgotten. In a public situation, it can easily seem the result of media or public pressure, which defeats the purpose.

Take responsibility. Of course, there are always going to be circumstances beyond all control, and there are often legal reasons why a mea culpa isn’t advisable. But it helps to acknowledge what a service-oriented company is responsible for, which is doing all they can to ensure a good customer experience. The Southwest story highlights an incident where an obviously disturbed passenger chewed on her seat cushion, then disrobed and ran down the aisle of the plane. For the carrier to make amends for something so clearly out of left field wins extra customer loyalty points.

Explain…but briefly. A neutral explanation that does not offer excuses or point fingers, but serves to share information that the customer might not have had, can be very effective in deflecting anger.

Offer compensation. Here’s where the Southwest apology team has real clout. They offer travel vouchers to inconvenienced passengers. Not all companies can do that, but it sure can go a long way.

Be sincere. The standard “We’re sorry if anyone was offended/inconvenienced/misunderstood” doesn’t sound authentic because, once again, it seeks to imply that the offended party is at fault. A weaselly apology that points fingers or makes excuses is worse than none. Don’t go there.

That’s why early reports that former HP CEO Mark Hurd’s ouster was the result of advice from a PR firm was so interesting. Insiders told media that a senior APCO executive urged the HP board to come clean about the allegations of sexual harassment against Hurd. The idea was to avoid the drip-drip-drip of salacious news leaks that might result from a strategy of silence. A one-day story that you can influence beats a drawn-out media orgy. And who wants to tangle with Gloria Allred, who seems to have morphed from feminist crusader to sexual ambulance chaser?

Good advice, right? Problem is, it backfired – or so it seemed. Hurd stepped down under pressure, but what was to have been a dignified exit was riddled with rumor, questions, and controversy. Not only did HP receive harsh criticism about its decision, but the tepid sex scandal, complete with 30-year-old nude photos of Jodie Fisher, played out in the media for over a week.

Worse, some HP-watchers blame Hurd’s resignation on bad counsel by APCO, charging that the firm placed political correctness over shareholder interests. After all, Fisher’s sexual harassment claim had been settled and an internal investigation found no violation of company policy. Business community reaction has ranged from public “head-scratching” to Larry Ellison’s blistering letter comparing the HP board to the “idiots” who fired Steve Jobs from Apple.

So was APCO – a highly reputable firm whose work I’m familiar with from my GCI days – overzealous in its counsel? Is the HP mess a sign that PR has somehow overstepped its bounds in the boardroom?

Hardly. First of all, media may have overstated things in saying the board followed PR advice in asking Hurd to step down. What’s more likely is that APCO advised the board to be transparent about the misconduct. The board’s ultimate decision vis a vis Hurd needs to be viewed in the context of HP’s turbulent recent history, the alleged expense account abuse, and what The Financial Times calls a “receding tolerance” for ethical failures in the executive suite.

This last has been understated in analysis of the HP decision. Reputations, both corporate and personal, are judged in light of business and cultural standards of conduct. Given the financial and ethical scandals of late, few boards can afford to look the other way when faced with questionable CEO behavior.With Hurd’s track record of delivering results, the board’s decision would have been controversial no matter how it was disclosed. 

As PR specialists, it’s our role to understand and communicate the impact of public sentiment, particularly when mores are changing. But it’s up to the board to weigh the value of a CEO’s reputation, and its influence on the corporate brand. HP’s shares may be down, but I think reputation stock just went up.

Steven Slater’s slide to freedom took less than a day to establish him as a folk hero. The reasons are obvious. Who hasn’t wanted to make an, um, emergency exit from a miserable job with that kind of flourish?

It was just one employee who lost his cool, in a big way. But did his exit signal a downhill slide for JetBlue, once the coolest and most PR-savvy of carriers? Sure, he struck a blow for working people who are mad as hell. The drama drew a huge fan community on Facebook and a deluge of online anecdotes from people with similar tales. (My favorite was Gawker’s invitation for readers to share their most outrageous “I quit” moments.) Can a reality show be far off?

But, Slater is also a symbol of the sad and sorry state of the airline industry. In contrast to US Airways’ “Sully” Sullenberger,  Slater is the anti-Sully, an icon for an industry buffeted by a perfect storm of recession, consolidation, and commoditization. Though on the other side of the counter, Slater’s drama is similar to that of Dave Carroll, who became an Internet meme when he recorded the music video, “United Breaks Guitars.” Each tapped into something nearly everyone has experienced.

But the villain here is the workplace. What sent Slater over the top, and down the chute, was reportedly job stress. The problem is, this isn’t supposed to happen on JetBlue, the airline that promises a different, and better, flying experience. Its planes, seats, onboard experience, and – most importantly - its culture, was what set it apart from the pack. When the airline was launched, it recruited flight attendants from other industries in order to underscore that promise (and, presumably, to avoid a union.)

JetBlue had to know that Slater could have injured or even killed ground crew workers with his stunt. His actions made some passengers wonder if the next rogue incident could happen when the plane was actually in the air. Not so funny. And, since his meltdown, there’s been considerable doubt cast on Slater’s version of events. He’s not Howard Beale. Instead, he’s a real guy with real problems.

To its credit, JetBlue handled the meltdown, and reputation threat, with style. First, it quietly offered a $100 gift certificate to each of the flight’s passengers, to compensate them for the ”disruption.” Then, it acknowledged what the rest of the world was buzzing about..but briefly, and with a light touch. In a blog post titled “Some Times The Weird News Is About Us”, it poked gentle fun at all the attention the exit triggered, acknowledging that “it may feed your inner Office Space.” But most importantly, the company took advantage of the incident to offer public recognition to ”2,300 fantastic, awesome and professional Inflight Crew members for delivering the JetBlue Experience you’ve come to expect of us.”  (No word on whether Slater was among those 2,300.)

Talk about emergency management. Although JetBlue may have lost some of its brand luster during the economic headwinds of the past few years, its response was true to its personality, and helped protect it from the PR fallout. As for the impact on the industry’s reputation, I agree with Sara Keagle. A flight attendant and blogger, Keagle suggests in a Wall Street Journal post that the Slater effect will be a kind of wake-up call for the traveling public. Don’t disobey the airline’s rules and policies. And, don’t tick off the guy whose finger is on the emergency chute.

Since her return, Mrs. Obama’s trip has been criticized by the blogosphere and press. The knocks on the vacation are pretty diverse. They include ”Michelle Antoinette” behavior during a downturn; emasculating the POTUS by missing his birthday; and even racial insensitivity for choosing to tour a country where our own State Department warns that “Afro-Americans” are subject to “racist prejudices.”

Whoa. Slow news week? Well, it’s August, after all. The White House didn’t respond directly to the backlash, except to try to correct inaccuracies and exaggerations, like the report that 40 friends had tagged along at the taxpayers’ expense (it was more like three.) But, both David Axelrod and Democratic party chairman Tim Kain sought to defend the junket as an educational trip for young Sasha. That was a bit lame. Axelrod’s response, in which he points out that people in the public eye are “human beings,” was fuzzy. (Meaning that human beings need relaxation? That we all make mistakes, because we’re only human, or that, being human, we want our daughters to experience Marbella?) Better to stay silent, leak the real details of the trip’s costs, and suck it up.

As some columnists have pointed out, part of the problem is our national schizophrenia around the role of First Lady. Should she be a silent and smiling helpmeet for the President?  Anodyne goodwill ambassador and occasional presidential surrogate? Post-feminist role model and global fashion icon?

We want it all, of course. And the President’s wife is probably all of the above, and more, depending on the woman herself , the circumstances, and the relationship between the two. The White House’s mistake this time was in not matching the role to the need. A PR-savvy team like theirs should have known how the trip would play to the public.

And maybe they did. The days of summer days are winding down, and this, too, will be a distant memory come September, or sooner. It seems the First Family’s next scheduled vacation is closer to home. At the end of the month, they’ll spend a week on the Gulf Coast, probably with plenty of photographers on hand. And maybe without the Gaultier. After all, it’s good optics.

There’s an expression related to PR that I particularly dislike. It’s “optics,” and like most buzzwords, it’s a bit pretentious and unnecessary. But when I heard that Tony Hayward will be replaced as CEO of BP, it popped into my head. Good optics, that is. Hayward’s been sent to Siberia (he’ll join a BP joint venture in Russia) while a new guy – a more marketable one, by all appearances - takes the helm.

Not only is Dudley BP’s first American CEO, he was born in Mississippi and spent part of his childhood in the Gulf region. Though he’s lacking a Gulf coast accent (too bad, that), he’s being cast as the anti-Hayward. And not being British does help. A cartoon depicted Hayward being tutored by a PR firm to lose his British accent to better connect with Americans. That ruddy-cheeked English appearance and crisp, yet gaffe-prone speech helped make him the poster child for corporate incompetence and indifference.

But “optics” implies a certain shallowness. It’s about image. Just the PR. Is there a more objective way to look at Hayward?  He claims he’s been “demonized and vilified” by the U.S. media, painting his departure as a necessary sacrifice for the long-term good of the company. He told The Wall Street Journal that he was villainized “for doing the right thing” although what he did right is still a question.

There’s an ocean-sized gap between his image here and in the U.K. People buy him drinks and express sympathy for the way he’s been treated by the whole mess. Moved to tears by a standing ovation during a recent visit to the home office, Hayward seemed a symbol of a departing warrior than a bumbling chief.

So, is the perception gap about geography, or misplaced nationalism? Not really. Hayward was respected internally as a competent executive and the right man to clean up BP’s spotty safety record after John Browne’s tenure. And there was a striking absence of UK investors calling for his ouster. Analysts and stakeholders who studied his performance and questioned him directly over his time as CEO were largely silent. Clearly, he was doing something right before disaster struck.

So, has Hayward been a scapegoat? Of course, but as CEO, he’s has been the top mouthpiece, and symbol, of corporate behavior, or, in this case, misbehavior. When the storm hit, his ability to articulate the way forward was absent. It wasn’t executive performance, the accent, or the pedigree that doomed him. It was a fatal lack of communication skills.

In leaving him in place to absorb the public rancor through the worst of the crisis, like a sponge soaking up toxic mess before a fresh one arrives, BP actually may have limited its downside, both financially and in a PR sense. But, as a (British) fund manager says about Dudley, “he’s not a new broom.”  His timing is pretty good, and his narrative is appropriate, but the problem with BP’s incoming CEO is that he’s really an insider who represents more of the same.

The whole changing of the guard is just that – a rearrangement. BP hasn’t gone nearly far enough to send a message of change. It’s varied the face and the accent behind the PR mess, but that’s about it. Bad PR can bring down a CEO, but its opposite – nice optics – can’t ensure success.  So, until real ecological and workplace reform takes place, it’s a prettier picture, but business as usual.

It’s practically a given that privacy is dead. Just ask Mel Gibson. His creepy rantings (and pantings), as recorded by his girlfriend, have probably ended his career. In a different way, General Stanley McChrystal was also brought down by a breach in the traditional discretion granted to subjects of his ilk, greatly amplified by digital media. All it took was a couple of careless remarks made by aides when they mistakenly counted on a wall of privacy. The general was no match for the social web.

Just last month, Helen Thomas was caught on tape blasting Israel and advising that Jews should “go back to Germany,” precipitating a sad end to a long career. Of course she knew she was being recorded, but she somehow never thought her remarks would be on YouTube within a day.

I wouldn’t put those three in the same category, and in each case, the consequences were probably deserved. But social media helped hasten a harsh denouement and ensure that no second chances were granted. When stories are retweeted and shared within minutes, there’s no room to deny, delay, or clarify. You can die by your own hand within hours.

There’s another reputation that was recently shredded, that of USDA officer Shirley Sherrod. Social media was at work here, too. Sherrod was unfairly branded as racist and lost her job in the time it took to say “viral video.”

Should we blame the digital age – with its privacy-destroying technologies and 24-hour news cycle – for the Sherrod mess, too? The speed of the web was a factor, sure. Even more, it was the “gotcha” approach of the race-baiting Andrew Breitbart, who has tried, and briefly succeeded, in actually delegitimizing real journalism.

What happened to Sherrod is about racism, the knee-jerk response of the White House, and, yes, digital culture. But when the video snippet was released, and the early media pounced on the story, something else was sacrificed. Not privacy. Context.

Context is what journalists are supposed to create and provide. They’re meant to vet material, its source, and seek comment, at minimum. McChrystal, Thomas, even Mel Gibson all had that opportunity. Breitbart didn’t do that when he posted the video, proving he’s not a journalist. But, what’s even more disturbing, for too long a while, neither did some of the so-called legitimate press.

This week’s news that ad and PR behemoth Interpublic Group has launched Rally, a social media unit, has the industry buzzing. The launch gave fresh fodder to the old turf debate, spiced with speculation about infighting under a single corporate roof. EVP Heidi Browning says Rally won’t mean new competition for IPG-owned PR firms. Insiders say that’s hard to believe.

And it is. With marketing budgets under scrutiny, everyone wants a piece of the social media pie. And not just crumbs…we’re after the juicy, buzz-generating campaigns that require fat budgets and make reputations rise. In fact, we’ve spent huge portions of time and energy arguing that the whole pie should belong to us, by dint of experience, natural inclination, or sheer talent.

Ad agencies are the traditional marketing stewards, so the case they make starts there. They have the key ingredients – brand strategy chops, consumer insights, and creative flair. Some fault PR pros for lacking the necessary skills to own the new landscape. They claim we’re not savvy about tech tools or sophisticated about metrics, which in some cases is quite true.

The PR response is often that social media belongs with us because we’re natural storytellers. We’ve always been the content generators, we know how to build buzz, and, besides, we’re the relationship guys. (It says so in our name, right?)

Then there are the digital marketing experts, social media consultants, refashioned web gurus, and so-called strategists rushing to claim a seat at the social media banquet. Everyone wants to be master chef in the marketing mix.

But, the truth is, none of us has the full spread to satisfy every need – or even the mindset. Traditional advertising types tend to default to the old, control-the-message approach. Like a cook who tweaks a favorite recipe, they think social media’s about getting your ad campaign to go viral. (While that can be a wonderful thing – just ask Old Spice – it’s beyond myopic as a point of view.) But just as many PR pros cling to their familiar formula. They’ve replaced media relations with blogger outreach, without embracing the new world of consumer engagement.

The answer to who owns social media, of course, is that it’s the wrong question. It’s like asking who should own traditional media. It’s a tool, of course. A customer service program on Twitter and a Foursquare frequent-visitor promotion are both social media-driven. Yet, the goals, strategies, and execution teams are likely to be drastically different.

I know what they say about too many cooks….and it’s true that every campaign needs a leader. Some will be PR-centric while others involve paid media. But, maybe – just maybe – we should stop arguing over the dessert that none of us owns and try to figure out how to work together to serve our clients.

A brand nickname is a little like a viral video. No matter how badly you want it, planning alone won’t make it happen. It has to come about naturally.

I’m not talking about mere abbreviations, like AmEx or P&G. I mean real nicknames…those insider-y monikers that make us feel cool because we drive a Beamer or, these days, shop at Tar-zhay. A nickname speaks of a personal relationship with a brand. (Notice how President Obama keeps calling BP “British Petroleum” in public remarks about the Gulf oil spill? It may be an attempt to mobilize U.S. nationalism, but to me it seems like a distancing tactic, like a stern father using your full name to signal you’re in big trouble.)

How a brand responds to its handle says something about its marketing savvy. When General Motors tried to dump ”Chevy” in favor of “Chevrolet,” it ran straight into a brick wall of resistance. GM quickly shifted gears and blamed the brouhaha on a “poorly worded memo.” It was a clear PR blunder, though probably the most excitement that Chevy’s enjoyed since Don McLean. But how could Detroit’s marketing minds think that a once-great brand could ever outgrow the iconic nickname that’s a slice of American Pie?

Don’t they know that when a brand tag is bestowed by the public – instead of the marketer – it’s nearly always a good thing? On the other hand, I never quite understood the UPS “Brown” campaign, or RadioShack’s adoption of ”the Shack.”  Because those names weren’t consumer-generated, they felt a little like your Uncle Fred trying to be cool.

Marketers lucky enough to actually earn a nickname should not only accept it; they should embrace it. Federal Express may have started the trend when it officially shortened its name to FedEx a decade ago. Coca-Cola has never been shy about using Coke in its marketing. And Harley-Davidson tried to claim its classic “Hog” moniker, although the nickname was ruled too generic to be trademarked.

That’s why the YMCA was right to slim its brand this week to the “Y.” The name may have started as an abbreviation, but after 166 years, I think it’s gained full nickname status. The Y’s press release explains it as a by-product of the trend toward shorter brand names, made necessary by our 140-character culture. The most entertaining part of the story, though, may be where the Village People got into the act. Still belting out “Y-M-C-A” on tour after all these years, they put out a statement saying they won’t change the 1970’s anthem that memorialized the YMCA name in a way that the Y surely never intended.

But, for me, the Y nickname isn’t about Twitter, or IM-speak, or even breaking with the past. It’s about a brand claiming its own street name, like Bud or Mickey D’s. It epitomizes our experience and relationship with its brand. A nickname, after all, is a term of endearment. It is the Y to most of us. So, why not?

The latest PR war between tech blog Boy Genius Report and Apple has ignited some pretty harsh accusations, including charges that Apple’s PR is lying about emails BGR claims were sent by Steve Jobs. For me, the outcome of the drama isn’t important, except as it affects the reputation of those of us who earn a living doing public relations.

Among all the things we’ve been called, the most stinging may be that PR people are professional liars. There’s that ten-year-old PR Week survey in which 25% of PR pros admitted to lying on the job. Ugh – and those are the liars who’re telling the truth! The Boy Genius flap reminded me of Newsweek reporter (and fake Steve Jobs blogger) Dan Lyons’ charges that Yahoo’s PR team were “lying sacks of s–t” for misinforming him about CEO Jerry Yang’s plans to step down. More recently, there was Erick Schonfeld’s evisceration of AOL’s communications chief for denying a rumor about an executive departure that was later proven true.

So, do PR people really need to lie to hang onto their jobs? True, sometimes a corporate spokesperson has to hide behind a technicality, or split hairs to avoid premature disclosure of material news. But, an outright fabrication?  It doesn’t make sense. Why lie when you can just fail to return calls or emails?  Where’s the sense in making a public statement that’s proven untrue mere days later?

There’s another explanation, of course. When there’s a major development afoot, the PR person is sometimes the last to know. I’d argue that in many of the high-profile disputes about truth in public relations, the communications officers in question weren’t lying, at least not consciously. They actually didn’t know what was going on, because they weren’t told.

I believe it because I’ve been there. Particularly with large public companies, even those with plenty of PR savvy. An agency relationship is more removed, but I can’t count the number of times I’ve read important client news in the press, only to be told by my client that they got the news at the last minute….or not at all. We joke about it, but in truth, it’s not a laughing matter.

Is it that we can’t handle the truth? Is the PR team thought of as the clean-up crew, helping with damage control after the fact? Are we viewed as too cozy with the press to be trusted? A somewhat kinder explanation is that keeping PR in the dark offers deniability later. In any case, it’s a credibility-killer. And, it’s a sorry situation when your best defense is that you’re out of the loop.

The Boy Genius-Apple dispute might be semantics. But, in many cases, the “liar” label is a symptom of a more frequent and therefore more disturbing issue -  that senior PR officers don’t always have the confidence of top management when the big news is breaking. Which leads to the frustrating, Catch-22 question. How does PR offer quality counsel and effectively manage public and stakeholder communications if we’re in the dark? Yet, how do we gain that “seat at the table” without the credibility that honest counsel inspires?