A Missed Moment for Ethical Reflection—and a Concerning Signal About Governance
During today’s AOTA Representative Assembly meeting, the vote to approve the consent agenda passed 55–0. Included in that consent agenda was a substantial revision to our Code of Ethics—and not one representative moved to pull it for open discussion.
Yes, the revisions were reviewed in a task group. Yes, there was a comment period. But those procedural steps, while technically fulfilled, do not substitute for meaningful public deliberation—especially on something so foundational.
The Code of Ethics is not just a policy; it reflects the core of our professional identity. When we alter that framework—particularly in ways that introduce a distinct set of social or philosophical assumptions—we should do so through visible, intentional, and inclusive ethical dialogue. That did not happen here.
Members reached out. Emails were sent. Concerns were raised. But nothing was pulled. No one spoke.
In the lead-up to the vote, I publicly stated the following:
“I invite those who helped shape the Code of Ethics and Vision documents to engage here in open conversation. I know many of us respond to 'calls for feedback,' but it's often unclear how or whether that feedback is incorporated. Given ongoing concerns about low engagement and participation, this moment offers a valuable opportunity for dialogue and reflection—and for leadership to demonstrate responsiveness.”
And yet there was zero engagement in return. Not from the Ethics Commission. Not from the Representative Assembly. Not from any leadership figures involved in shaping the document. Nothing.
This wasn’t just a missed opportunity for engagement—it was a clear indication that debate about the profession’s ethical identity seems increasingly confined to task groups and closed channels—when what’s needed is open, collective reflection. The silence may not have been malicious, but it had consequences. Whether due to discomfort, uncertainty, or deference to process, the effect was the same: a moment that called for reflection was met with silence.
What made this moment even more jarring was its context.
Immediately before the vote, the Assembly heard the treasurer’s report, which laid bare the financial condition of the association:
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Membership revenue dropped from $7.87 million in FY22 to $6.76 million in FY23. The FY24 budget projects a rebound to $7.3 million, though still below pre-decline levels.
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Total revenue continues to lag behind expenses, which remain high—particularly in salaries and professional services.
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AOTA posted a net operating loss of over $3.1 million in FY23 and anticipates a similar shortfall in FY24.
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Even with investment income, the association saw a net loss in assets of $1.65 million last year.
Immediately after this sobering report came an oddly timed pitch to donate to AOTPAC, the organization’s political action committee—before any discussion of the consent agenda occurred. That juxtaposition did not go unnoticed.
This financial trajectory isn’t occurring in a vacuum. It reflects, at least in part, a deeper issue: when leadership consistently fails to engage transparently and meaningfully with its membership—especially on ethical and strategic matters—disengagement is a rational response. The association’s financial decline is not simply a budgeting problem; it is a symptom of an ongoing crisis of trust.
I’m not optimistic that the trajectory will change. The procedural machinery seems designed more for efficiency than deliberation—and when ethical decisions are routed through that system, reflection becomes the casualty.
I’m not optimistic that the current structures will change themselves. But I do think it matters that someone keeps a record—that we say out loud what many are thinking, and that we refuse to let silence pass for consensus when the stakes are this high.
If I’ve misunderstood something—or if there are perspectives not yet heard—I’d welcome a discussion that matches the seriousness of what was decided today.
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