Some say a field must define malpractice to qualify as a profession. There is no such definition for librarians. I'm not certain we need one. The American Library Association (ALA) Code of Ethics says it "embodies the ethical responsibilities of the profession" but quickly states that "These statements…cannot and do not dictate conduct to cover particular situations." Unfortunately, the "particular situations" that piled up in my office this week beg the question.

We took a close look at a very popular library director who was a candidate for one of our awards. We found that this librarian had fought to convince, even coerce, staff members to vote against joining a library union. When the staff decided to organize, the director withdrew a contract offer. The library staff was deeply divided in their views of the director. We debated whether or not that was enough to keep the director from winning the award.

At another meeting, we discussed how another librarian had been recommended by a well-known search firm for a directorship, even after the librarian had been responsible in part for a multi-million-dollar lawsuit that that person's former library lost. We had a long debate over whether this constituted mismanagement and what the search firm owed the search committee of the hiring library.

We also discussed the case of the thousands of libraries whose librarians, boards, and directors had rejected a best-selling current title either because it violated feminist principles against the sexual exploitation of women or because they were squeamish about sexually explicit material. This drew us into debate about statement II in the ALA Code of Ethics: "We uphold the principles of intellectual freedom and resist all efforts to censor library materials." We agreed that we could find as many librarians unwilling to stand up for ALA's many pronouncements on intellectual freedom as would be willing to risk their jobs in support of them. For many libraries, the promise of federal funds for Internet access more than offsets the accompanying censorship under the Children's Internet Protection Act. Still, the fields of library practice are littered with filters and other forms of censorship applied to mollify local politicians and pressure groups.

All of this led to speculation about the code's other admonitions, especially statement VI: "We do not advance private interests at the expense of library users, colleagues, or our employing institutions." I have always wondered how many librarian/library consultants step over this ethical boundary in pursuit of their consultancies.

On the other hand, it is reassuring to note that the director who helped lose the lawsuit didn't get the job. The director who tried to undermine the union is living with it now. A cadre of strong librarians have resisted efforts to filter or otherwise censor their collections, and while some won the battle and some lost, many made a gallant effort to support intellectual freedom. Most of those librarians who consult are very careful to use their own time and resources.

There is no system, process, or procedure to deal formally with charges of "malpractice" or other ethical malfeasance in librarianship. Criminal or legal issues are resolved in the courts. The rest are acted out in the profession's informal courts of opinion, and, in general, that process works pretty well. It is certainly preferable to use personal networks, human resource reference and referral procedures, and the pressure of professional opinion to adjudicate informally any charges of malpractice or unprofessional behavior. The system is far superior to any formal machinery we might impose, especially if it were put in the hands of ALA or our state associations.

A definition of malpractice might enhance our "professional" status, but it would not improve the profession's current informal system, which gives us effective ways to evaluate one another for new positions, awards and other rewards, honors, and even the occasional penalty a librarian deserves.