One of the great assets of newspapers has been the Letters to the Editor (LTE) section. For at least two and a half centuries, ordinary people have used LTEs to share perspectives and drive dialogue on every topic under the sun. Not all such letters are reasonable in language and tone, but typically they’re required to meet certain standards.

And then came the Internet.

While I support online dialogue, I’m a longtime critic of anonymous tomes in the comments section of news websites. Hiding behind handles, many people say things that are untrue or hurtful because they can get away with it. Others make slanderous, outrageous claims—called trolling—just to get a rise out of others. They threaten, cajole and rant in ways they would never do in public, at least not without fear of arrest or lawsuit.

When news sites began to emerge online in the 1990s, comments were seen as a way to tap the interactive potential of the Internet by allowing immediate feedback from readers. Anonymity, it was believed, would broaden the conversation.

It’s done that—but not always to the benefit of reasoned discourse. And that's left many online outlets struggling with how to manage the flood of comments within readers’ expectations of free speech.

This week, one major media outlet decided to step away from the fight. Popular Science magazine announced it was shutting off readers’ comments on its online articles.

“As the news arm of a 141-year-old science and technology magazine, we are as committed to fostering lively, intellectual debate as we are to spreading the word of science far and wide,” wrote Suzanne LeBarre, online editor of the magazine. “The problem is when trolls and spambots overwhelm the former, diminishing our ability to do the latter.

“And because comments sections tend to be a grotesque reflection of the media culture surrounding them, the cynical work of undermining bedrock scientific doctrine is now being done beneath our own stories, within a website devoted to championing science.”

The decision by Popular Science is sad but entirely understandable.

“Free speech today allows one to ignore civility and spout profane, uncouth, rude and outrageous comments online within certain parameters,” write John W. Dozier and Sue Scheff in their book, Google Bomb. “But the line between protected online speech and yelling ‘fire’ in a virtual theater is yet to be fleshed out.”

I don’t see that clarity coming anytime soon, meaning more online sites may go the way of Popular Science. That will leave fewer places for the mean-spirited to spew their venom—and, regrettably, fewer opportunities for healthy conversations that move society forward.

[Note: I originally wrote this as a guest blog for my dear friend Mary Jo Asmus at Aspire Collaborative Services.]

“Have you realized,” a friend pointed out to me, “that yours may be the first novel in the history of fiction to have a PR person as a hero?”

Well … no, actually. After all, I’m a public relations guy by day—and, too often, by night, weekend and holiday—so one shouldn’t expect me to assail my profession, even by parable. True, Tristan West, one of the key characters in my novel Radiance, isn’t entirely likable. He’s angry, hard-drinking, self-centered and resentful, a real curmudgeon. But those are behaviors borne from his experiences, not traits of his career.

So I started thinking: Why shouldn’t a PR guy be the hero of a novel? What is it about the term “public relations” that brings the pot of social ire to a boil? And what can leaders learn from that?

What I eventually realized was this: It’s all about the truth. What keeps Tristan from being totally contemptible is his true character. At bottom, he really is a man of integrity; he cares about what is right and true. That fact overwhelms his cynicism and expunges his selfishness. He rises above his darker tendencies. Truth is what makes him a leader.

In the real world, sadly, some organizations use PR as a smokescreen. They eschew honest dialogue in favor of selective truthtelling and blurry presentations. In short, they embrace “spin,” a word that every PR professional and every leader should strike from their vocabulary. There’s another word for spin; it’s called lying.

But real public relations, like real leadership, is dedicated to the truth. Both desire to understand their stakeholders through honest dialogue and relationship-building. Both are willing to learn and to change. Both are focused on mutual respect and a common vision. Both know that deception never works, at least not for long, and that truth is the only mortar that binds the bricks of trust, commitment and shared success.

We live in a disturbing era of Wikileakage, where mistrust is rampant, rumors overflow and conspiracies—real or imagined—lurk behind every closed door. Perhaps never before have we been in such need of genuine leaders—those committed to integrity, to compassion, to what is right and true.

Truth isn’t always the easy path, as Tristan discovers at the risk of his life. But it’s always the right path to take—and the only one true leaders follow.

The unspoken etiquette of reviewing works of art—paintings, books, films and so on—goes something like this: Critics say whatever they want, and creators shut up and take it.

Has that rule changed with the burgeoning platform that is the Internet? Apparently not. And therein lies a powerful lesson about online communication.

Earlier this year, Paramount Pictures released the 12th film in its venerable Star Trek franchise. Directed by JJ Abrams, Star Trek Into Darkness earned big bucks and a mixed bag of reviews. But for a huge segment of Trekkies, Darkness and its predecessor, 2009’s Star Trek, have departed from the storytelling and social commentary of the original 1960s series. And they’re not afraid to say so, sometimes brutally.

In that light, the website Trekmovie posted an editorial describing how Star Trek is “broken.” A great many fans piled on, decrying the shortcomings of Abrams’ work.

This prompted one of the writers of Darkness, accomplished scribe Roberto Orci, to weigh in directly. He criticized the editorial (and, presumably, the author) as “a child acting out against his parents.” The ensuing exchange led Orci to reference “shitty fans,” point out that “there’s a reason I write movies and you don’t,” and suggest such critics should “F*** off.”

Orci later apologized for the rant via Twitter—his not-so-remorseful excuse: “Twice a year I explode at the morons”—but the damage had been done. Commenters slammed him for lashing out at fans, calling Orci “insufferably arrogant.” He’s since shut down his Twitter account and vanished from the online fray.

Orci isn’t the first man to confront his detractors—Samuel L. Jackson vs. AO Scott over a scathing New York Times review of The Avengers is a recent example. But now that the interwebs afford nearly everyone the chance to share their opinions, the well of self-proclaimed film critics has broadened. It isn’t surprising that Orci lost his temper.

Yet columnist Simon Brew, writing for the website Den of Geek, suggested that part of the reason fans reacted so strongly to Orci’s comments is the unspoken rule, i.e., critics may criticize, creators may not.

“He could sit there and take it, working to the old unsaid agreement that the customer can say whatever they like once they'd handed over their cash, no matter how wronged that may leave him feeling ... or he could engage with it,” Brew wrote.

While Brew didn’t give Orci a pass for his condescending remarks, he did suggest that fans were being unfair to him for daring to defend his work.

In my view, this instance shows the two-edged sword that is social media. On one side, now everyone has a means to share an opinion; the downside is that the Web doesn’t distinguish between learned opinions and puerile name-calling.

The painful lesson that Orci learned reminds us to be careful and critical managers of what we post. Orci’s words will live on; no apology will make them go away. Worse, those words will color everything he says or posts, perhaps for the rest of his career.

How we engage online detractors sets the tone for our long-term relationship with them. Hence my personal rule of thumb: Never post on the Internet what you wouldn’t be proud to see on an expressway billboard.