“I’d sooner live among people who don’t cheat at cards than among people who are earnest about not cheating at cards.” — C.S. Lewis


September is nearly upon us, that time of year when the Public Relations Society of America promotes Ethics Awareness Month. We PR types are reminded of the PRSA Code of Ethics and the importance of keeping our noses clean.

Communications professionals are quick to talk about all the technology they can wield to send a message—from 147 characters on Twitter to three minutes on YouTube, from email blasts to broadcast texts. We brag about our SEO prowess and our pressure-tested crisis plans.

But Salome Thomas-El has a gentle reminder of the most effective form of communication:

“People will forget what you do. People will forget what you say. But they will never, ever forget how you made them feel.”

Principal El, as he’s known, would no doubt give a nod to Maya Angelou, who is also credited with this quote. But Principal El has lived the quote in his own way, by eschewing more lucrative career opportunities to remain an education leader in an inner city school.

I’ve heard Principal El speak twice—both times at United Way events—and his message is consistent. He calls upon all adults, and especially parents, to commit themselves to children’s success in school. And success sometimes means allowing kids to fall flat on their faces.

“Smart is not something you are,” he says. “Smart is something you can become.” And the process of becoming means experiencing failure—a very different mindset than the one plaguing so many schools today, where protecting self esteem is more important than raising up intellectually and morally strong young people.

The work must stretch across the spectrum of a child’s life, says Principal El—from birth to adulthood. And it takes careful, thoughtful planning.

“A vision without a plan is a hallucination,” he says.

“Stop praying for a lighter load and start praying for a stronger back.”

Principal El’s commitment to educating children, particularly those from disadvantaged backgrounds, is well documented in his book, I Choose To Stay. Of particular note is his use of chess to impart strategic thinking skills in his students—creating a series of championship teams composed of middle school students.

Interestingly, Principal El is a communications major. It shows in the way he connects with people and his Sunday morning preacher turns of phrase.

But what most impressed me was his insistence that the most effective form of communication is one that involves a personal connection with others.

We smartphone-laden, Twitter-tweeting, blogger-pitching Web geeks would do well to pay attention.

A recent Pew Research Center survey ranked journalism ineffective in making positive contributions society’s well-being.

Journalists have one of two reactions to this news. Neither one of them is correct.

The first reaction involves a weary sigh and soldiering on. These reporters have somehow survived the bloodletting in newsrooms over the past decade, struggling beneath increasing demands with decreasing resources. They know things are bad; they just don’t have the energy to marshal a stronger response. I can’t say I blame them.

Then there are those who get defensive. Tim Skubick, a political columnist, went that route in a recent column in which he leveled most of the blame at narrow-minded and scandal-hungry consumers, mistake-prone journalists and rumor-mongering bloggers.

“Fact is, reporters are not on anybody’s side,” he wrote. “Correspondents are disinterested third-party observers and not prone to advance any cause.”

On a philosophical level (and as an old reporter myself), I agree with Skubick on the objective role of journalists. On a practical one, he missed the mark.

The issue in journalism is not one of popularity; it’s one of respect. And sadly, the field has lost a great deal of the latter.

Much blame rests at the feet of journalism itself—to Skubick’s point, partly as a result of the aforementioned slash-and-burn among newsroom and production staffs. The flow of mistakes in reporting and content has become almost comical. A few weeks ago, I opened a newspaper and beheld the same wire story, with identical photos and nearly identical headlines, on two facing pages. I didn’t know whether to be amused or disturbed. What I wasn’t, sadly, was surprised.

Similarly, the demand upon short-staffed newsrooms to “feed the beast”—especially the ravenous digital beast—means more stories of varied significance and fewer enterprise or investigative pieces. There’s been some effort to reverse this trend—partnerships like ProPublica, enterprise teams within news media chains like MLive, etc.—but a lot of day-to-day reporting relies necessarily on low-hanging fruit.

But perhaps most disturbing of all is the lean by some media outlets toward one or another political ideology, rejecting objectivity in deed if not in word. One study, again by the folks at Pew, found 85 percent of programming on MSNBC was opinion-driven, with 55 percent at Fox and 46 percent at CNN.

These are trends that have snuffed the respect of consumers for the news media. This is where I fear Skubick missed the point. The Pew survey isn’t describing the likeability of journalists; it’s reflecting the public’s view that journalists no longer serve the role Skubick insists caused their low ranking: that of the accurate, informational, relevant watchdog.

Consider yet another study by the Pew Center, the biennial study of media attitudes. While the results are largely negative, there are some bright spots. Some 68 percent of respondents said media coverage keeps political leaders from doing wrong, and support for news media embracing the watchdog role rose 10 points.

The answer, then, lies with journalism. What’s needed is less finger-pointing, more quality reporting. Greater objectivity, relevancy and accuracy are the essential ingredients for a return to form. That means reversing the budget-cutting trend and making greater investment in news gathering and reporting—a tall order in cash-strapped times, but crucial for the future of journalism.

In 1966, the folks at the British Broadcasting Corp. had a problem. William Hartnell, the titular star of the TV series Doctor Who, was struggling with health issues, and he was no longer up to the acting task. But replacing the lead in a television show, especially one as popular as Who, is very risky.

And so the Beeb hit on a unique solution.

At the conclusion of the episode “The Tenth Planet,” Hartnell’s Doctor collapses suddenly, begins to glow and then transforms into an entirely new version of his character (played by Patrick Troughton). This new Doctor was the same man, possessing the same memories, yet equipped with different personality traits.

This change, to be known as “regeneration,” became a regular event for the now-50-year-old TV series. There have been 10 regenerations across 11 actors, and each has come with a high level of audience anticipation. Indeed, the BBC took this to the highest level yet on Aug. 3, when it hosted a live broadcast—promoted heavily for a week—during which actor Peter Capaldi was announced as the replacement for Matt Smith as the Doctor.

Anticipation is one of the most effective tools for generating public interest and engagement. It’s why a new restaurant will talk up its menu long before the doors open, why we see “teaser” trailers for films still a year away, and why every new James Bond actor is revealed only after months of speculation. It’s hardly a new thing. (Who shot J.R., anyone? Or any product from Apple?)

Engagement is the key to leveraging that eagerness, and new communication tools make that easier to do. At the recent San Diego Comic-Con, it was announced that the next Superman film would be a Supes-Batman mashup; not only did that generate cheers at the event, but rumors have been burning the interwebs ever since. The filmmakers want that kind of buzz, in hopes that it will reach its crescendo just in time for the premiere in 2015.

Likewise, the way the BBC unveiled its new Doctor sated some of the expectation, only to kick off another round of it ahead of Capaldi’s first appearance this Christmas. Even more, the BBC ran Twitter posts throughout the program as fans urged that name to be announced and then celebrated once it was.

The lesson here: Making an event meaningful to the audience involves inviting them to be part of it. That includes feeding that anticipation, allowing them to fuel it further, and then actively engaging them during and beyond the event.