Trying to raise the bar when others just don’t care

There’s a particular kind of frustration that comes with aspiring to a higher standard, only to watch people in positions of public trust blatantly disregard it while also paying it lip service. There’s nothing new about this dichotomy, but the tension it creates seems to have increased exponentially in this new century. We feel it in our communities, in our creative work, and in how we navigate civic life. The UFA™ Code of Ethics & Conduct isn’t just boilerplate policy buried in a web folder. Based on the organization’s Core Values of Professionalism, Integrity, and Respect, it’s intended to help engender greater trust in a collaborative art form and industry. But what happens when the systems around you seem to reward doing the opposite?

For many filmmakers, creative professionals, and community organizers, ethics is not theoretical. It’s about how we treat people on set, how we represent our work, and how we credit others. Keeping those commitments in focus helps maintain trust—among each other and those watching. Yet it’s hard not to feel disheartened when government agencies or public servants, who should model transparency and fairness, engage instead in pettiness, bias, or self-protection.

Maintaining ethical consistency in those moments isn’t just difficult—it feels lonely. It’s easier to compromise, to look away, or even mimic toxic behaviors if that’s what gets results. The UFA™ Ethics Code exists to help us rise above such behavior. Doing our best to uphold its values means refusing to trade personal integrity for convenience, even when it costs time, access, or opportunity. That’s not idealism—that’s leadership.

Another dimension to this challenge is emotional fatigue. When one watches repeated examples of public misconduct or bureaucratic stonewalling, cynicism can creep in. For creative professionals who already face economic instability and public skepticism, it’s tempting to say, “Why bother?” But staying true to ethical standards is exactly what separates constructive discontent from burnout. It’s better to document, not demonize; to question with professionalism; to seek facts before outrage.

In practice, living and working by higher standards often means doing small things that go unseen: giving proper credit when it’s inconvenient, paying contractors promptly, admitting when one's wrong, or challenging a harmful norm without turning it into a personal attack. These habits ripple outward. They signal integrity in an environment where others may have forgotten what it looks like.

It’s not about moral superiority; it’s about stewardship. As filmmakers, we shape narratives. The stories we choose to tell—and the way we choose to tell them—either reinforce cynicism or restore accountability. By aligning our practices with the Ethics Code despite the hypocrisy displayed by others, we become proof that ethical standards aren’t naïve; they’re necessary.

The truth is, there will always be forces that test our principles. But the real measure of character—and community—is what we do when no one’s watching. Holding to the values of Professionalism, Integrity, and Respect when others won’t isn’t easy. It’s exhausting, imperfect work. But it’s the kind of work that keeps a creative community healthy—and gives the next generation an example worth following.

Disclosure: The author periodically uses a Large Language Model (LLM) agent when composing initial drafts of expository articles.

[Current Revision: January 22, 2026]