My Ethical Conviction

It hurt like hell when they pried open my eyes. But I was grateful to see the light.

by Bruce Schimmel

I appeared before an ethics committee recently. It was a voluntary appearance, before a panel of media practitioners, whom I hoped would offer me a way out of a little moral morass.

Though faced with a line of pursed lips and furrowed brows, it looked like some of my inquisitors were thinking only about offering me a noose.

My conflict was between Bruce Schimmel, the person, and me as a columnist. At issue was my generosity, which felt wonderful at the giving, but has since left a sour taste.

Here's my story: In the 30 years I've lived here, there's never been such an opportunity to reform city government. Philadelphia is at a tipping point, and if it falls the right way, this city will be great indeed.

Fully cranked up on such civic optimism, Citizen Schimmel made some contributions to local campaigns. Which isn't necessarily evil in itself, unless Columnist Schimmel also writes about them.

So my 12 interrogators decreed that I'd have to expose my sins to the light, by making a full confession to you. Which I will, in a minute.

But first, a little about my jury. They aren't exactly a panel of peers. In fact, I'm being paid to grade their decisions. This semester, I'm teaching a senior seminar in media ethics at the University of the Arts, and the jurors are my own students.

Since January, we've met weekly in a bland classroom on Broad Street — ironically with a view of this city's legendary marketplace of interest-peddling, the Union League.

My students are documentary filmmakers, advertising executives and journalists.

Like many UArts students, they are not children of privilege; some even have kids of their own. Most are about to graduate, with one foot already in the real world. They already struggle daily with ethical challenges from bosses, boyfriends, siblings and parents.

And so it seemed only fair to share my own dilemmas. Which is how I discovered I'd hit a moral wall, which my class thoughtfully illuminated with one of my own favorite mantras: Reporters cannot take money from potential subjects, nor should they offer any. In the presence of cold cash, objectivity tends to wither.

As a columnist, I tried to plead immunity, since it's not my job to be objective. After all, I'm not a reporter, I'm a columnist. I'm supposed be involved in the stories I write. As I see it, Star Trek's Prime Directive to tread lightly among the natives doesn't apply to columnists, because our goal is to change history.

Since my mission as a columnist is to shove the big rock, I tried to argue that greasing the path with some cash would be consistent with my goals.

My students didn't buy it. Money, like other forms of raw power, can corrupt. Mishandled, especially when hidden, each has a way of rotting our ethics from within.

And my students, from their vantage point at the bottom of the totem pole, know all about the misuse of power.

High on my students' own list of ethical jerks are screw-up bosses who keep a ready stock of sacrificial lackeys. People in power, who haven't the decency to admit a mistake and make good. Or, almost as bad, powerful people who don't even know when they've done wrong.

In your own work — if you're lucky enough to sit on high — I recommend that you, too, assemble a jury. As a former business owner, I once encouraged a committee of women employees to audit my company for sexism. It hurt like hell when they pried open my eyes. But I was grateful to see the light.

Which brings me finally to expose my current dark peccadilloes. So here goes: I hereby confess having given $100 to Damon Roberts. Another $100 to Haile Johnston. To the anti-casino coalition, I've contributed $500; to Brett Mandel's Philadelphia Forward, $1,000. To Michael Nutter, in a fit of enthusiasm, I gave a whopping $2,000.

The good news is that confession leads to restitution, my personal jury reminds me, since sunlight is such a wonderful disinfectant.

Beyond that, the angels perched on my shoulders also insist that I can still encourage you to contribute to a slate of reformers, whom I'll list soon. So, let me ask you to do as I say, even if it's something that my students won't let me do.

(bruce@schimmel.com)