Today, I raise a Vulcan hand salute to Leonard Nimoy. To the unparalleled character he developed as Star Trek’s Mr. Spock, and to the even more creative man who played that, and other, roles, on screen and off. In tribute, and without apology, I offer a touchstone: “Trekkie Ethics.” It might not pass muster with the more serious scholars of either journalism or ethics, but it leans on their wisdom, and has served me well. – in work and in life.

In Episode II of the Star Trek movies, Spock sacrifices himself for the crew of the Enterprise and the greater world. (Hey, it’s Hollywood! Why think small?) As he stands inside the ship’s damaged nuclear core, melting from radiation, Capt. Jim Kirk places his hand on the glass that separates them and asks: Why?

Spock’s logical (Vulcan) answer: Because the good of the many outweighs the good of the one.

 Jump to Episode III. Kirk and crew hijack a spaceship, risk their careers, reputations and lives (Hollywood, remember) to resurrect Spock and save the righteous world as we know it. When Spock’s mind is restored and he grasps what’s happened, he looks at Kirk and asks: Why?

Kirk’s emotional (human) answer: Because sometimes the good of the one outweighs the good of the many.

Forgive me if I have the exact quotes wrong. What’s important to me is the essence of what I remember and how I have tried to understand and apply it.

And what I understand is as simple as it is profound. As clear as it is complex.

If, as a journalist, you do intimate or sensitive or deeply personal stories — the stuff that takes you into the tender territory of emotion and pain and the mess and wonder of humanity — you will always face this question: Aren’t you exploiting people for your own gain?

 The question always makes me squirm. As it should.

But it also makes me return to the touchstone and consider my values and my actions. It makes me consider – again and always – whether I believe that the story, if it could cause pain, serves a greater good or necessity. And that the hoped-for gain outweighs the individual or momentary pain.

In practice, that means those who do this kind of work have to consider our story subjects’ role, accountability or vulnerability in the situation at hand.

It means we have to be fully honest with them, with our audience and with ourselves about what we’re doing, and why.

And finally it means that if we don’t believe, professionally and personally, that the greater public good can be served by the momentary or individual pain, then we don’t do the story. Or we need to find a better way to do it.

Is it arrogant to think we can make that decision? Of course.

Can we measure that balance in the moment, or guarantee it? Of course not.

But if we aren’t willing to wade in – to explore other worlds and other civilizations, to boldly go – how we will know? How will we learn?

By the way, I can do the Vulcan salute. With both hands.

Meanwhile, track the stories about Nimoy battling for equal pay for the women and minorities on the Star Trek series, for his work with the feminine in the spiritual, and so much more.