I took a bribe the other day.
And I’ve been a little uneasy about it ever since.
For politicians, there are some pretty strict laws against bribery, and for good reason. A small bribe can be pretty effective in swaying politicians’ positions on issues, and because there is so much power in leadership, those trying to get their way may sometimes resort to the unseemly world of bribery.
So, Minnesota passed a law, first applicable to state officials, then amended to include local officials, such as city councilors, building inspectors, and the like.
“An interested person may not give a gift or request another to give a gift to a local official. A local official may not accept a gift from an interested person.” That’s right from Minnesota statutes (Minn. Stat. § 471.895, subd. 2). An “interested person” is anyone who has a direct financial interest in a decision made by a local official.
Even small tokens of appreciation given to local officials is illegal; items such as sporting tickets, food, and trophies are considered gifts. There are some people who think it’s ridiculous that a politician can’t accept, for example, a free lunch or a small birthday present, but if the giver has a financial interest in the outcome of a politician’s vote, it’s illegal.
I recall years ago when U.S. Senator Paul Wellstone came to Cloquet and was presented with a nice leather jacket from the local unions during an event at the Labor Temple. At the time, my sister was his northern Minnesota coordinator and she had asked me to chauffeur him around during his visit. I wanted to talk politics; he wanted to talk basketball. Like the good politicians that we are, we compromised. I commented on the nice jacket he had just accepted during the ceremony, and he said, “I’ve got to give it back; I’m not allowed to accept gifts.” Sure enough, he discreetly returned the jacket.
Even lawyers have such ethics. Lawyers are not allowed, by the rules of professional conduct, to pay nonlawyers anything for referrals. A few years ago I sent a pizza to the staff of a local law firm after they sent me a client they couldn’t represent due to a conflict. It turns out I wasn’t even allowed to do that. (I won’t mention the firm, but I’ll point out that it may have been my friend, the late, great Larry Yetka, who suggested the referral.) Thanks to the ethics rules, they weren’t allowed to accept it.
In my case, I was at the county fair last weekend, with a clear view of the milkshake stand, when a good client stopped by to chat. I mentioned that I had been coveting a strawberry milkshake and planned to get one as soon as my shift at the Pine Knot News booth was over. I even joked that I had given my son some money and hoped he would return with a milkshake, but that I hadn’t seen him in an hour. A few minutes later, the client and his wife dropped off a treat for me — a delicious strawberry milkshake.
I finished the milkshake before I started to question the ethics of it all. I’m not dumb. But I somehow felt a little indebted to him. Was he trying to influence me in some way? Was he expecting something in return? Is this why we prohibit leaders from accepting gifts?
In this case, my client is also my friend, and I am sure he was being nothing but kind to me. But it was fun to think about the whole bribery angle. What if, unlike my feeling of moderate guilt, I had come to expect a small gratuity? What happens when politicians feel entitled to a small token before they’ll even consider an action? And that small token starts getting bigger and bigger?
This doesn’t seem to be a big problem in Minnesota, though. It’s rare to see a news story about bribery, or corruption, from elected officials. Even a few strawberry milkshakes won’t change that.
Pete Radosevich is the publisher of the Pine Knot News community newspaper and an attorney in Esko who hopes to host the talk show Harry’s Gang on CAT-7 again someday. He can be reached at [email protected].