Integrity

I think of myself as having “integrity.” In fact, I’d say that the idea of being an honest, trustworthy guy is integral to my self-image. And I think that relatively speaking, there is some truth in it: I don’t often lie or cheat, and I am very open with anyone about all parts of my life and business. I love what I do, and what I do pays the bills, so I’ve got every reason in the world to be honest!

But unfortunately, “having integrity” is something more than the superficial decision to tell the truth when pressed. The idea of real integrity is something much deeper than simple truth-telling, it’s the concept of a deep transparency: a commitment to building a character that is not merely honest on the surface, but deeply committed to doing what is right–even in the face of difficulty or personal loss–right down to the very core of one’s being. Do I really have that kind of integrity, as a designer, as a professional, as a husband, and as a son?

I’d like to take a closer look. Lets unpack this a little bit together, and look at the ways that we as a culture have forgotten about real personal responsability, and ways that we can go against the grain of mainstream culture–both personally and professionally–to become real men and women of deep, unwavering integrity.

My wife and I used to go to Chipotle once a week for dinner.  We were very tight for money, and it was a comfortable little tradition that we enjoyed, and looked forward to each week. Being poor, however, we would split a burrito, and drink only water to save money. There was a snag, however: the local Chipotle had a malfunctioning water tap. Pressing the “water” button caused the whole machine to vibrate intensely, but little or no water would come from the spout.

You may see where this is going. Rather than asking the counter attendant for a cup of tap water from the back, I opted instead to take the expedient and cowardly route: I looked around, and quickly filled my cup with Hi-C and walked to my table.

I wish I could say that this is the end of my embarrassing little story, but it isn’t. I never reported the broken spout, and they never fixed it. I repeated my petty theft on more than one occasion, and rather than bringing it to their attention, I simply let it slide. “Why not,” I rationalized, “it’s their machine, and it’s broken. If they want me to take water instead of Hi-C, they should fix the machine!”

This continued until one fateful afternoon, when I filled my cup with Hi-C as in the previous weeks, and the immigrant worker cleaning the floor angrily grabbed it from me, dumped it out, and refilled it with water simply by pressing the button harder than I’d done previously. My ears turned red. My face flushed. I was utterly humiliated. I–a professional making two or three times what this man was making–was stealing Hi-C from the establishment that pays his wages.

The scene stuck in my head for years, and today it still haunts me from time to time. I fancy myself honest, but in reality I am no better than a petty thief. The opportunity to be dishonest presented itself to me, and I took advantage of it. This little test of character rocked my own self-perception as an upstanding citizen.

But I would never steal anything in a premeditated, consistent fashion. Right? Of course not. Except for some things.

Culturally we have decided that music should be free, and that it is socially acceptable to obtain it by illegal means. Whether I’m getting a free CD burned by a friend, downloading your music from pirates online, or ripping CD’s from the public library, the legal fact of the matter is that by doing so, I am stealing. Somehow America has convinced itself that music should be free, regardless of the fact that the talented men and women who create it get no money for their efforts.

Sure, the “artist” can still make money on concerts and promotional deals, but what about the songwriters who write on spec, and only get paid in royalties? What about the producers, the production engineers, the mixdown studios, and the mastering experts that make the recording really sound great? Those people rely on music sales for their money. By stealing Hi-C from Chipotle, I was ultimately stealing from the man mopping the floor there. And by stealing from major record lables, I’m stealing from the hard working individuals who make my music possible.

Because I want to be a man of integrity, this week I’ve deleted all of my illegal music files. This was a very, very painful task, but the pain highlighted for me just how important music is in my life, and how wrong it is that I’ve been stealing the benefit of this music for so long. I’ve made a list of every CD I had illegally obtained, and I plan to buy each and every one of them over time. And in the meantime? I won’t be able to listen to them.

But surely that’s all, right? I don’t steal anything else, of course.

I wish that were the case. As I pointed out here, starting a design business is an expensive endevor. But as businesses go, it’s not that expensive at all. Say I wanted to start a machine shop, a trucking business, a restaraunt, a boutique shop, or a shoe store. How much would THOSE businesses cost to start, and what kind of financial risk would I have to take in order to build them?

Clearly the cost of starting any of those businesses is orders of magnitude bigger than buying my measly little software packages, and yet culturally we’ve decided that since Software–like music–is possible to obtain for “free”, we should be able to obtain it for free without consequence.

So it is here that I would like to make a public confession: in the time since I was laid off in January, I have used illegally obtained software for profit. I am not proud of this fact, and I am willing to face up to any consequences that may arise. There is no excuse for it, and I will be taking steps to make it right by purchasing the software in question as soon as possible. In the meantime, I will no longer have access to said software, because I will be deleting it from my machine. When I have accumulated enough capital to purchase these tools, I will do so, and proudly.

I am offering a challenge to the design community: stop stealing. We have rationalized with ourselves for long enough. If it were really true that “software companies WANT their software to be pirated, so that it will become an industry standard,” then all of those companies would be giving their software out for free. But they aren’t. And they won’t. The people who sit and write code all day to make these fantastic tools possible need to be paid. By you, and by me.

So lets make a concerted effort not only to rid our computers of pirated wares, but also to frown on those who don’t. Let’s make it clear to our community and to the world that designers work with integrity, and that we are willing to do our fair share to make sure that software developers get the money that they deserve for their efforts.

The clincher for me is the thought of explaining the idea of “theft” to my son or daughter someday. “No, you can’t have that candy” I’ll say. “Why not!?” Will surely be the spirited response. “Because you haven’t paid for it. It isn’t yours to take.” How will I ever be able to say that if I’m willing to steal in my own life?

Sincerely,

Adam