Most people in “government” actively avoid hobnobbing with people who want something from “the government.”

Most elected officials honor the oath they swore when taking public office and can remember the basics from the commonwealth’s mandatory ethics training.

Each time that I’ve taken the mandatory training (the most recent of which was this past August 23rd) I’ve found myself speaking aloud and in frustration at the absurdity of the questions which, to my mind, sound crafted to spark self-reflection in lawless mobsters and ruthless corporate evildoers.

Here’s an example of the sort of question elected public officials need to answer correctly to pass the mandatory ethics exam:

You are a member of your local select board. You have been assigned to make policies and recommendations relative to a specific type of business. Your work will influence which business entities will be granted permission by your select board to engage in this specific business in town.

A lot of money—oftentimes measured in increments of “boatloads”—surrounds this type of business.

A businessperson (BP) offers to take you (plus one, plus another couple) out on his boat (temporarily emptied of money) for an afternoon of relaxed luxury.

Your choices:

A. Politely decline the invitation and promptly report to your fellow select board members that this BP approached you (perhaps to try to influence your policies and recommendations). Warn the other members of the select board to be vigilant about any attempts by this BP to influence public officials of your town.

B. Accept the invitation because you don’t want to anger/agitate this BP who has the reputation of not taking well “no” as an answer. (This phenomenon is endemic with SWGs w/PIM who are unaccustomed to “no” in a world that consistently bends to their “yes.”) But then, on “day of” and in a moment of clear thinking about where your loyalties should lie, you decide not to go out on the BP’s boat and cancel. However, being the coward that you are, you do not tell the businessperson “I can’t because it’s unethical.” As such, your failure to tell the BP of this ethical restraint all but guarantees that this situation (special invitations from the BP) will present itself again in the future.

C. Go out on the BP’s boat (plus one, plus another couple) and have fun on the BP’s dime. “What’s the big deal?” you ask yourself silently as you assure yourself that you can keep your role as policy-maker and recommendation-giver for the select board completely separate from any friendship that has formed between you and this BP. As you tacitly tell yourself these things, the BP is now able to conclude one very important thing about your town’s government: it is for sale because you have proven yourself to be corruptible.

Although it started in 2016, I only became convinced of it a few months ago when I said, without reservation, “Chuck’s dirty.” And since then, each time I’ve said, “Chuck’s dirty,” I’ve either gotten a quick “You’re just learning this now?” or various detailed anecdotes that objectively support your dirtiness.

So, in keeping with Festivus’s baldly honest tradition of the Airing of the Grievances, where participants are encouraged to share how the people in their lives have disappointed them over the past year, here’s mine:

Chuck, as the go-to guy for all things cannabis in Littleton, you have behaved unethically despite your claims of wanting “what’s best for Littleton,” despite your oath of office, and despite your mandatory ethics training.

You have disappointed me (and by extension, many others in 01460), making this a real Festivus to remember.

TTYS,

Jkb