I was recently asked by a newly elected official how to navigate through the potentially treacherous minefields of ethical behavior while serving in public service? The simple answer is don’t ever “get on the hook,” and you will never get caught up in the ethical quagmire. This requires some convoluted explanation.
I first started in local office in 1989, and the experience was exciting and amazingly invigorating and I took everything very seriously. Despite my naive understanding of municipal public service being limited to one day per week, the required reading, the added committee assignments, and the community events I expected to attend made this commitment much larger than advertised. Despite the longer dedication of time, I found the service to be life-changing as public service was real and organic, and the reward coming from public service set up my lifetime journey to serve.
Admittedly, thirty-five years ago, I was a babe in the woods and had no detectable cynicism in my political body, and one might think some of the child-like fascinations would have worn off by now, but it hasn’t.
Non-sequitur coming—this was one of the most politically rewarding periods of my life. And I remember vividly that for this public service, the township graciously and generously paid each council member a monthly stipend of 60 dollars, and the township sent you each year on an all-expense-paid trip to the League of Municipalities in Atlantic City.
The notion that I would accept a token monthly stipend never sat well with me, so I informed the township clerk that I wouldn’t accept the monthly check. I didn’t hold a press conference or send a release; I simply quietly told the clerk to stop issuing me a check. In truth, I never felt comfortable receiving perks or benefits for what I termed a volunteer post.
So, when the annual League Convention was being scheduled, I was looking to be consistent and not hold the township responsible for incurred costs on my behalf. I simply paid for the hotel and expenses myself. I did this for several reasons.
First, I truly thought that it was the right thing to do. Before I receive some hate email, I don’t begrudge anyone for accepting this or seeking reimbursement. I fully understand full-time professionals having these conferences as part of their job, and the expenses over time can certainly add up.
Regarding the Atlantic City conventions, I personally didn’t want a taxpayer or political opponent lording over me that they were paying for some fancy hotel two hours away from my home, as the township focused on fiscal matters. I can pay for my room, meals, gas, and tolls.
When I graduated to play ball on the county level in 1995, as Chief of Staff to the County Executive, I said no to the county car, no to the county-paid cell phone, and no to redecorating my rather ordinary office. Keep in mind, my personal cell phone plan then was costing me monthly as much as my student loans (400 dollars per month), but I didn’t want any confusion about which calls were county-related and which were personal; the same goes for the county car. With the intelligent use of OPRA, imagine the fun of combing through travel logs and phone call logs of these taxpayer-funded vehicles and telephones. We move along.
Next, you never know how popular you are until you head up a transition team or serve as a high-level decision-making senior staffer. The offers for golf outings, lunches, dinners, play tickets, and others sprouted from thin air. I told staff then that we had a firm policy not to accept anything. Even if the intentions were pure, the rule must be enforced by all.
I need to add that I did encounter two bizarre events in the first 30 days of that administration. The first involved one long-time county vendor offering 1500 dollars cash (tightly bound together with two rubber bands-one red and one faded green) for an upcoming County Executive Ball. I declined, and the lawyer went on his merry way. The second event had a very successful and prominent lawyer, who had done significant legal work with the prior administration, arriving in my office with over $85K in checks for the same ball. I not so politely declined and showed him the door. Oddly, the New Jersey Law Journal caught wind and published the story. What is the point?
When you start in this political game, be very careful to mark out a hard ethical line and don’t retreat. Don’t start small in the accepting gift stage, and you will never venture too far from that ethical line.
I have seen cases where a lobbyist- or vendor-paid meal turns into a cool golf outing, which turns into a blurred and muddled mess. The political seduction can be gradual and almost imperceptible until the drift is so great and dangerous that it is too late.
I held this same standard as a state legislator and Port Authority commissioner, don’t accept anything and don’t get ‘on the hook’ for any gratuity — no golf, meals, or travel. In the rare events I had a meal with a lobbyist or interested party, I would pay the entire bill for all parties. Once you establish these parameters, word gets out, and it is easy to maintain the boundaries.
I hope this was helpful advice for the next class of elected officials.