The Cost of Being Ethical

Some days, I hate that I am ethical.

On those days, I briefly wonder if I should have used my powers for evil. Or at least skipped “good” and started a cult. Apparently, there is excellent money in charisma, buzzwords, and vague promises of impact.

Instead, I chose ethics. Bold choice. Questionable return on investment.

When Integrity Works Against You

Ethics sound noble until you realize how often systems reward the opposite.

If you refuse to inflate numbers, your impact looks smaller.
If you refuse to exaggerate need, your urgency evaporates.
If you refuse to misuse funds, your budget suddenly looks “lean.”

Meanwhile, organizations that cut corners grow faster, fundraise better, and pay their leadership generously while reminding staff to “do it for the mission.” Nothing says sacrifice like a six-figure salary and a branded tote bag.

I understand nonprofit pressure. I also understand fraud. The problem is that accountability has become optional, and integrity is treated like a personality quirk instead of a baseline.

The Quiet Tax on Ethical People

Ethical people pay a quiet tax.

We pay it in missed opportunities because we said no.
We pay it in slower growth because we followed the rules.
We pay it in stress because we actually read the grant requirements.

And yes, we pay it while worrying about groceries, rent, and the next unexpected expense.

When people say, “At least you can sleep at night,” I appreciate the sentiment. But sleep hits different when your bills are paid.

Fraud Is Not Harmless

Nonprofit fraud is not victimless.

It siphons resources from people who genuinely need help.
It erodes public trust in organizations doing real work.
It makes funders more cynical and restrictive.

And it quietly punishes ethical professionals by normalizing burnout, underpayment, and instability as the cost of having values. That is not sustainability. That is exploitation with better branding.

Choosing Ethics Anyway

Despite the occasional temptation to pivot into cult leadership, I remain ethical.

Not because it is easy. Not because it is lucrative. But because unethical systems eventually collapse. Audits happen. Receipts surface. Headlines write themselves.

Integrity may not scale fast, but it ages well.

Ethical work should not require martyrdom. If we want honesty, we must reward it. If we want trust, we must enforce accountability.

Until then, some of us will continue to choose integrity. Even when it is expensive. Even when it is lonely. Even when the cult option looks… efficient.

Because ethics still matter. And unfortunately, I would look terrible in cult fashionable styles and/or jailhouse orange.