This is a personal anecdote that I should relate before it is lost in the fog of memory.
Earlier this month I attended a major law school class reunion despite boycotting the previous one (as I discussed on EA) following Georgetown Law Center’s disgraceful handling of the Ilya Shapiro controversy. I showed up at the big, fancy dress, all-classes gala in D.C.’s impressive National Building Museum, and when I checked in, was sent to a special “problem” desk because my name wasn’t on The List.
There I was told that I had been registered for the evening’s festivities and dinner by “someone”—not me—but that the fee hadn’t been paid. I offered to pay it (I was told it was $225) but they were not equipped to take a credit card. “Why would they have pre-registered you?” I was asked.
Well, I explained, I am something of a celebrity in my class, having founded the school’s musical theater company as a student, and that group is still active and also celebrated a reunion just last month. And I was the law school’s first Director of Capitol Giving. “Ah!” the guy behind the desk said. “So you’re a VIP!” He whispered something to his colleague, who whispered something back, then he said, “You will sit at Table #2!”
“Really?” I replied. “What about the $225?” “Oh, you can take care of that later,” I was told. “You know, I’m an ethicist, and this kind of thing is called “The King’s Pass” on my list of rationalizations,” I said. “It’s when someone isn’t held to the same rules and standards that everyone else is because of his perceived value and importance. It’s very common, but an unethical practice.”
“That’s interesting!” he said, as he handed me my freshly printed badge with my class’s ribbon. And printed in block letters above my name was “The King’s Pass.”
I was never charged for the event.
How could I participate in the “No Kings” demonstrations after that?
Ethics Alarms 