V eritas Honorque: Truth and Honor. The motto of my secondary school rests firmly in the middle of the school crest, its position symbolic of the value placed upon one's character. Beginning at age 13, I was deluged with the idea of good character. I heard it repeated endlessly in chapel, felt it manifested in symbolic ceremonies and saw it represented through role models. As I looked upon the gilded oil paintings of imperious men peering down at me with a stern expression on their faces and an air of distinction about them, I reveled in the notion that I was carrying their torch. Many of the community's most respected leaders would come speak with us about character, and gazing upon them I naturally connected character with class and distinction. The "man of character" and the "gentleman" were synonymous.

I have since learned that this view is erroneous. Many "gentlemen," despite their refined appearance, are devoid of character. The so-called "gentleman's code" often directs one to lead an upstanding life, but the code's inflexibility also allows true injustice to occur. When asking what it means to be "ethical," a thorough examination of a traditional "honor code" might lead us to some surprising conclusions.

My secondary school was governed by a rigid honor code very much in line with the norm. Students were expected to never lie, cheat or steal; any infraction could lead to dismissal. Moreover, if a student was aware of an infraction, he was obligated to report it or be faced with dismissal himself. Such a code by definition forced students to be "honorable" because they lived in a world that was intolerant of dishonesty. But did this code succeed in the school's claim of creating men of "strong moral character"?

In the movie "Scent of a Woman," Al Pacino and Chris O'Donnell address this exact issue. Charlie Simms (O'Donnell) attends Baird, a school that develops "true men." After witnessing a prank, Charlie is required by the school's honor code to turn in fellow students who performed the prank. Moreover, the headmaster entices Charlie further by promising a scholarship to Harvard should he acquiesce.

What's remarkable about "Scent" is that the classmates Simms is defending are not his friends. Having agreed to abide by a code, having been enticed with rewards to do the same and with no self-interest reason to protect the guilty, Charlie's decision should be easy. And yet he refuses to turn in his classmates. Why? I loved "Scent of a Woman" from the first time I saw it, and I always wondered what decision I would make if confronted with a similar issue. Little did I know that I was destined to face such a dilemma my senior year.

That December, I was one of 10 officers overseeing 1,000 youth at the convention of the statewide youth in government program. We had pledged, as officers, to report any infractions in the convention rules of which we were aware. Moreover, my school's honor code further bound me. I had been taught that nothing was more inviolable than one's word, and I had given my word to abide by certain rules. So you can imagine my dismay when I discovered that Saturday night that four fellow officers (including two from my school) had violated the convention rules and were completely inebriated.

As college students this may seem remarkably trite to us. So a few kids were drunk, who cares? You must understand, however, that the situation really could not have been more charged. My school had a no-tolerance policy for alcohol. If I reported the infraction, as I was obliged to do, then these two students would have been promptly expelled halfway through their senior year with college applications pending. If I didn't report them, however, then I myself could have been expelled for not reporting the infraction. It was a zero-sum game with high stakes. Immediate expulsion from school is not a laughing matter, particularly in the community in which I was raised. Like Charlie Simms, the decision seemed relatively easy. I had given my word to report the incident, I put myself at great personal risk if I did not, the two students in question were not friends I had any personal loyalty to and I would likely be rewarded by the school administration for coming forward. I had all this to gain, and yet, just like Charlie, I covered the incident up.

You must remember that for six years I had been staring at those oil portraits, admiring myself for my own "honesty." How could someone who so valued the code turn on it? This was my chance to prove my fidelity. For me, the internal struggle was immense. But I have never regretted that decision to this day.

It has been said that your character is how you behave when no one else is looking. When we speak of character, we don't speak of following the rules, we speak of doing what's right. In this instance, the school's policy was not justified. No matter how I approached the issue, no matter how much personal gain was possible, I could not justify seeing two students expelled, their college plans thrown into disarray, simply because of one stupid action. The school's policy was an injustice, and the "man of good character" has an obligation to do what is right.

The point here is that things which are ethical cannot be codified. However distinguished the men in the oil paintings may have appeared, their treasured honor code did not actually teach honor. Forcing students to follow authoritarian rules may lead to good behavior, but in taking away ethical decision, the school actually taught students nothing and indeed sometimes coerced them to pursue dishonorable acts.

There is a lot that we can gain from this story, but I hope you, the reader, will reflect on two points in particular. The first is to be critical and to realize that those who preach "truth," though often well meaning, are sometimes too blinded by their own agendas to realize what they are missing. The second message, however, is that you must ultimately put aside your cynicism and ask yourself what is right, what is good and how should you lead your life. The story thus critiques those who claim to know what is right while also stating that the most important thing we can do is discern good from bad and justice from injustice. Here, at Amherst College, you will never take a course that will explicitly teach you about good character, but I believe it is the most important thing you can ever learn.

When I began this column in February with my story of Breezy, the homeless man in D.C., I asked all of you to look beyond your current horizons and try to see something you've never noticed before. There is an incredible amount of beauty in this world just waiting to be discovered, and whether you're a senior departing for worlds unknown or a first-year just getting acclimated to Amherst, I hope you'll indulge in exploration. But all of your worldly exploration ultimately leads to the more salient issue: self-reflection. We will all have to make many important decisions in our lives. Like Charlie Simms, we will all be faced with ethical dilemmas. My hope is that your Amherst education will prepare you to make the right decisions, and that together we will all march forward in making this magical world of ours even better.