Turns out that a person riding a bicycle in China is only responsible for creating a twelve-inch bubble of safety around them. In the US, the bubble of trust is larger, because we expect the rider to make eye contact with others, signal their intentions, and navigate in a way that maximizes safety for riders, pedestrians, and drivers.
While many believe that safety standards are intuitive and universal, Veronique Greenwood discovered when she moved to China that safety standards are definitely cultural. Within a few months, she began adjusting from the communal safety standards of the US to the individual safety standards of China: clean your own air, check food supplies for purity, and ignore everyone and everything outside of your twelve-inch bubble when riding a bicycle.
As I go around the country speaking to students, faculty, and corporate leaders about ethics, a common refrain is that people should “just do the right thing.” But what Greenwood’s article clearly demonstrates is that “the right thing” is culturally determined. Shared understandings of who is responsible for safety must be continuously articulated and reinforced. Those shared understandings and congruent behaviors create trust.
During the past several months, the American community has had robust conversations about the social contract and expectations of trust. Can women and minorities expect to be free from harassment in the workplace? Can citizens expect that companies will not put toxic chemicals into the water? Who is responsible for research into product safety? What are the limits of political speech? What is our responsibility to work toward civil discourse? What should be the acceptable economic spread between those on the top of the economic ladder and those on the bottom?
The way that individuals, key stakeholders, organizations, and the various government bodies answer these questions over the next months will determine whether our bubble of trust expands, contracts, or implodes so we operate in a culture of no trust. Alasdair MacIntyre in After Virtue talks about the importance of conversation to establish expectations of trust. In addition, Karen Adkins in Gossip, Epistemology, and Power talks about how those without power have informal networks of information that also work to give people the information they need to determine the size of the trust bubble.
The shape and size of the trust bubble are determined by the ethical norms of people in the community and the legal and regulatory structure of the community. Legislation about harassment, food safety, pollution, and a myriad of other social behaviors let each of us know what behaviors can be expected. And, as shown by recent testimony about the responsibility of social media giants to monitor ads that impact elections, Congress can’t legislate an algorithm. We depend on industries and individuals having enough integrity to live into those expectations.
Our ethics are judged by how well we—individuals and organizations—adhere to the stated rules, how vigorously we monitor our behavior, and, in the absence of regulation, how we exercise our discretion as we build social capital, the currency of trust. The revelations of sexual misconduct in the entertainment industry demonstrate that everyone knew that men with power were behaving badly but the companies chose to ignore the behavior to bolster the bottom line. Women knew which power players were the predators and who were the accomplices, but individuals didn’t believe they had enough power to speak up and so depended on an informal network of gossip—that often excluded men—to warn others of the danger. And, those who were supposed to protect those being harassed, the human resources and legal departments, became allies with the harasser through silencing and confidentiality agreements, further reinforcing the culture that no one was taking the sexual harassment laws very seriously.
During the first ten months of his tenure, President Trump has signed forty-nine executive orders. Many of the orders loosen existing regulations, giving companies more leeway in issues ranging from obligations for clean water and air to requirements for equal pay. The question now is whether companies will live into their posted core values, which often hold them to higher standards than the law, or will follow the relaxed letter of the law.
The choice will determine the size of our shared bubble of trust. As Brené Brown states in Braving the Wilderness, “Standing alone in a hypercritical environment or standing together in the midst of difference requires one tool above all others: trust .” Will we have the courage to have those difficult conversations with each other, exploring and establishing shared expectations of trust? Will we be honest with each other about when we expect individuals to care for themselves or when the community will rally together for support?
Developing the skills to engage the conversation can happen in a classroom or seminar. But living into the commitments rather than vacillating based on what is politically and economically beneficial requires integrity and courage. Living into our shared ethical values is an individual choice: a choice made over and over again as we each choose whether to expand or contract the bubble of trust around us, our organization, or our community.
I love football. I’ve been known to annoy family and friends in July as the countdown to the season’s opening begins. And so, as the conversation over whether or not athletes should be able to kneel or absent themselves from the national anthem escalated over last weekend and spilled into basketball, baseball, and even golf, I wondered how I’d facilitate a conversation about the events in my classroom. The answer: a Structured Controversy.
Not wanting to lose any teachable moments, especially when learners cared about current ethical events, I was excited to discover Structured Controversies as a teaching tool at a critical thinking workshop some twenty years ago. The notion is that a class is divided into two opposing camps, considers the strengths and weaknesses of the opposing value priorities, and then engages in conversation to seek a policy resolution that harmonizes the values without discrediting either position, and thus builds trust accross ideological divides.
This tool can be used in a face-to-face or online classroom and for any academic discipline when the value priorities are clear. In this situation, you have some professional athletes (and their fans) who want to kneel or absent themselves from the national anthem to draw attention to racial inequities. On the other side, you have some professional team owners (and their fans) who want to demand that athletes stand for the anthem as they believe that an athletic event should not be politicized. The overarching perennial question: when an employee has a high-profile position, what limits (if any) can/should an employer place on their First Amendment right to political speech?
Using teaching strategies such as Structured Controversies is important if we are actually going to teach and measure learners' abilities to think critically. Derik Bok wrote a telling essay on improving the quality of higher education where he stated that “although 99 percent of professors consider critical thinking an 'essential' or 'very important' goal of a college education, fewer than 20 percent of the exam questions actually tested for this skill.”
Testing for critical thinking can include writing assignments that follow exercises like Structured Controversies where learners actually get practice in formulating policy arguments, explaining them to colleagues, and then drafting resolutions that honor both positions. And, as EthicsGame has shown, web-mediated learning experiences and exams can also effectively teach and measure the skills of critical thinking.
Key is being intentional, doing our own work of thinking carefully about naming the differing value priorities, and then structuring a learning experience that does not require that one side be silenced. Our best teaching happens when students can explore and articulate deeply-held values—even if those values might not be popular. The skill of respectfully harmonizing competing ethical values is invaluable in a world where polarization is more prevalent than ever, exacerbated by social media where we can just participate in our own echo chambers.
Feel free to contact EthicsGame for more information about how our learning tools can help you teach—and measure—a learner’s ability to critically evaluate ethical values in tension and resolve them.
As we’re all still trying to make sense of the explosion of racism and violence in Charlottesville, Virginia last week, the question asked over dinners and drinks is how—how in this time and place can such public displays of hatred exist?
Joshua Greene, in his seminal book Moral Tribes, has one answer: biology. Greene argues that our brains are wired for tribalism that provides a fertile ground for racism. Our instincts prompt us to marginalize the “other,” someone who doesn’t look like, dress like, or otherwise resemble us.
A second answer is socialization. As children, our parents and those around us taught us how to navigate the world so we could be safe and successful. Often, subtle cues of racism are given in those early years, planting the seeds for later action. And, as James Hawdon has found, the internet and other social media outlets fertilize those seeds which grow into fireweeds of racism.
What is insidious, however, is that racism can be covert as well as overt. Many of us who disavow racism fail to see where, through what sociologists call inattentional blindness, we unintentionally support structural racism because we aren’t paying attention. And that’s where resilience becomes critical.
According to researcher Diane Coutu, to be resilient requires a staunch acceptance of reality. We must all be honest enough to watch for where instinctual seeds of racism that are cross-pollinated with tendencies for self-interested action are dormant or beginning to sprout, both within ourselves and our communities.
And then grit comes into play: the commitment to engage in the work of ethical growth. As discussed in our book review of Grit by Angela Duckworth, once we identify an area of growth—identifying and eliminating racism—we have to practice weeding our gardens with an intention of contributing to the well-being of others. What does it mean to practice being ethical? Don’t we all just know good from bad? Unfortunately the answer is, not so much.
Racism exists because one core value—protecting one’s self and the tribe—takes priority over another core value—inclusion of all. Both values are important and both can be taken to extremes that are hurtful to one’s self and others. Thus, the values have to be harmonized. What set of beliefs and behaviors will support individual action and team cohesiveness as well as inclusion of all? To reach that goal, we have to be willing to have the criteria for inclusion be something other than a gut feeling of being comfortable with someone. All that comfort means is that our amygdala and our instinctual bias for tribalism were not triggered.
The purpose of the tribe is safety and support. But alignment of values and purpose, creating communities of safety and support, doesn’t depend on putting together groups who look like us or even only hanging with people who share all of the same beliefs. In the case at hand, we have to pay attention to where our own beliefs and behaviors reinforce tribalism and where acting in self-interest undermines individuals and the group.
LaDainian Tomlinson’s 2017 speech on being inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame said it well: “Football is a microcosm of America. All races, religions and creeds living, playing, competing side by side.” In advocating for “Team America,” Tomlinson invited us to evaluate others on their willingness “to compete and take whatever risks necessary to work hard, to succeed.”
Tomlinson harmonized the opposing values of tribalism and inclusion. We still have a team, a community that works toward safety and success. But, that team doesn’t depend on an accident of birth. That team is comprised of those who come together to work toward a common goal, a goal that will help others. That team looks at the gifts of all and doesn’t presuppose that one biological tribe is superior to another.
Telling the truth requires acknowledging that all of our gardens have weeds. Moral courage, the last element of ethical grit, requires a commitment to explore both overt and covert patterns of racism and patiently weed our own garden, pulling up the fireweed sprouts as soon as they are spotted. As we all work toward well-tended individual and community gardens, the displays of virulent racism that rocked our country last week will become fewer in number. We’ll have more situations like Boston where the public outpouring of support for all overshadowed those who wanted to sow more seeds of hate. Resilience and grit will win out over racism.
During the 40 years I’ve been teaching ethics, we moved from a shareholder analysis (where the owners of the companies got all the attention) to a stakeholder analysis (where we focused on the various stakeholders that were impacted by our decisions). However, the stakeholder approach turns out to have a major flaw because we haven’t given our students the critical thinking skills or the ethical will to transcend the interests of the stakeholder groups to move to a holistic, systems approach to both ethical analysis and thoughtful, coordinated action.
Dr. Deb Bennett-Woods, a colleague from Regis University, made a presentation to my neighborhood group entitled “Health Care 101.” In that presentation, she asserted that none of the health care bills currently floating through Congress address the fundamental issue: all of us want Lexus coverage but we only want to pay the Ford Focus sticker price. Deb went on to say that for health care to be truly reformed every stakeholder will have to give something up. She proceeded to discuss a systems approach to health care ethics where we focus on the goal of affordable appropriate health care and consider measured, long term initiatives to deal with the inevitable disruption to the system.
The same problem exists as we consider the “America First” conundrum. As explored in my recent blog, “Which Hat: Employer, Employee or Consumer?”, when we make decisions, we put ourselves in the position of one stakeholder without considering that in fact at one time or another we are all the stakeholders. And, for justice to be done and ethical action to flow, every stakeholder must be willing to give something up for the good of the whole.
A systems approach to ethics education begins with students being able to clearly articulate the values in tension in a particular situation. We are fond of saying that to be ethical people must be willing to live into their values, to choose actions that match their core commitments. But what do we do when those values are in tension?
I was leading a workshop for a group of executives. I began by having them identify their core values as a leader. Honesty and transparency won. And then, because I’m mischievous, I asked whether they would share with an employee organizational salary information in order to either confirm or refute a perception that women were being persistently paid less than men. To a person the answer was no: the values of confidentiality and loyalty to the company won the day over the stated value of honesty.
I then asked how they would describe to one of their managers when honesty trumped confidentiality and vice versa. They had never thought about it. Rather than thinking of the values of the company as being a set of complementary ethical commitments that could provide guidance when values were in tension, they thought of each of the values as stand-alone commitments that helped them be “right.”
For educators, a systems approach to ethics means that we have to abandon one of our favorite pedagogical techniques—playing devil’s advocate. We have all had the adrenaline rush of reducing a class to total confusion as we challenge them (in the name of teaching critical thinking) on their preferred position by presenting carefully-reasoned arguments for the other side. And then the time for class is up and our students are no closer to being able to make a thoughtful choice than they were before the class began.
Rather, we need to consider how to harmonize the competing values so that the system as a whole can flourish. How can we move beyond the default position of analysis from the stakeholder whose interests take priority in that particular class to a systems approach? For that approach to succeed, neither the individual nor the community—the classic value tension between autonomy and equality—should have more than their fair share of power and perks. People also need to learn self-discipline, both in their intellectual search for truth and in the management of their emotions and passions—the classic value tension between the head and the heart.
Most importantly, students need to learn to identify the values in tension from a systems point of view and then be given strategies for resolution and action that contribute to the good of the whole without unduly impacting the free will or autonomy of individuals. Shifting our pedagogy to a systems approach means completely rethinking how ethics education is delivered.
We’ll be looking at some very concrete strategies for facilitating that transformation over the next months. Stay tuned!
One of my favorite end-of-the-day mindless TV shows is Beat Bobby Flay. Last night, as I watched him take out a skilled chef a-gain, I found myself thinking about the TV editing process. Even though we all know that what we see can’t be done in half-an-hour, we have this sense that the cooking and cleaning process is a seamless whole. Continuity—making sure that the images flow in an expected order—is crucial to maintain the illusion. Continuity is broken when a sequence with Bobby not wearing his apron is put in after we’ve seen him mixing up the blackberry sauce with his apron protecting him from splatters.
As I noted the continuity error, I found myself reflecting on how we edit our lives. As we recount our day to ourselves, pour out our woes to our friends, and position ourselves to seek a redress from wrongs, we are as skillful at only noticing what supports our cause and reinforces our image of ourselves as the Flay crew is at building suspense and keeping us intrigued with the cooking process.
Interestingly, our mind, which is supposed to be the impartial arbiter of reality, conspires to create our alternate reality TV. First, according to Lisa Feldman Barrett in How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain, our minds anticipate what we are going to see and begin to fill in the details for us—even before we experience the event. Thus, if we are not really paying attention, we may “see” details that we expect but aren’t really there. The only way we snap back to attention is when we see something we don’t expect—like Bobby without an apron after he ostensibly put one on.
And then, to add insult to injury, our minds will reinforce what we thought we saw until we are absolutely convinced that up is down, even when we see a video clip showing us we are wrong.
A core skill for ethical maturity is being able to fully pay attention and neither unfairly edit our experience nor our response as we retell our stories. A core component of this skill is compassionate detachment. If we had no skin in the game, what would we see and how would we name the event? As we evaluate our emotions, to what degree are we really responding to the actual event, and is the response appropriate?
Our ethics—how we treat ourselves and others—flow from beliefs that inform behaviors. If our beliefs are based on an interpretation of life that omits key details or recounts events out of their actual sequence, we will not respond appropriately to our environment. And, we might miss the opportunity to contribute to a world where people can thrive.
Compassionate detachment is tricky. We can’t be too harsh or we’ll fall into a cycle of blame and discouragement. Nor can we be too optimistic or we’ll miss an opportunity for right action and reconciliation. A useful technique is to begin by asking what we really saw or experienced. What details did we add that we expected to see but weren’t truly there? What details did we omit that didn’t match our expected picture?
This morning, I watched a short video where a young man tried to set up a homeless man by giving him $100. The man was then followed and filmed. Predictably, he went to a liquor store. The filmmaker was not surprised. But then the man began seeking out other homeless people and giving them—food. He had gone to the liquor store, bought food, and was handing out lunch to others stranded at park benches and picnic tables. Those filming did not see what they expected and were schooled in compassion when they asked the man why he shared. He stated that he ended up homeless after caring for his mother who recently died. He had quit his job to be her full-time caretaker and then realized that he did not have money for rent and couldn’t quickly get a job. He said that those on the street often had one turn of bad luck that landed them at a soup kitchen or shelter.
That story reminds us again not to fill in the details of the story without doing a bit more investigation. What we expect to see may in fact be far from the actual truth. From seeking out the unseen details of an event, we can move to evaluating what we saw and choose an appropriate response—often one that is kinder and more effective than our usual knee-jerk reactions. The young man who watched the homeless person buy food for others gave him another $100 to continue the good work. In our professional life, leadership guru Kendall Lyman calls this process learning to be creative in our response instead of reactive. But we cannot creatively respond unless the foundation upon which we act is based on fact and not fantasy—or prejudice.
Give it a try! Take one day and practice looking carefully at what is happening. When you think you have seen clearly what is going on, go back and look again. And then with compassionate detachment carefully evaluate your response rather than editing your personal TV show as you go. You might be surprised at what you see—and then how you behave.
One of our hardest tasks is to listen with an open heart and an open mind to someone whose opinions and beliefs are diametrically opposed to our own. And yet, if we’re going to be successful in an organization or in the fashioning of public policy, we have to listen to each other to at least understand the other side.
In this age of social media polarization and trigger warnings, faculty members sometimes shy away from engaging conversations about differences—especially ethical differences. Finding teaching tools to move students beyond the black and white, “that’s what I think and that’s all there is to it,” can be challenging.
EthicsGame’s updated and expanded version of the Ethical Lens Inventory (ELI) is designed to help breach that divide. The ELI demonstrates how differences in behavior and expectations flow from different prioritization of values—whether to follow the head or the heart, for instance. In this way, students are introduced to notions of ethical plurality—we have more than one way to be with each other in community.
So, whether you’ve used the ELI in your classes forever or you want to try something new, we invite you to take a peek at the 2017 version of the ELI.
First, the ELI has a spiffy new look. While the questions in the instrument are the same, the participant interface is easier to navigate and the questions flow more logically.
Next, the descriptions of the ethical lenses are more robust. Instead of just two or three pages of information, the learner now has up to ten pages not only describing the strengths and blind spots of the ethical lens but also providing tips on how to become more ethically mature and work with others in different ethical lenses.
Another difference is more nuance in the results. As students complete the ELI, they learn which ethical perspective is their home lens. In addition to learning their ethical strengths, they now can consider the implication of intensely held beliefs rather than mildly held preferences. Often, someone with a strong preference for autonomy—some of our favorite libertarians—may approach restrictions on individual freedom more viscerally than someone who on the surface is in the same ethical lens but has a mild rather than intense commitment to principle-based ethics. Exploring the differences in intensity can help explain differences in policy and practices.
The final update brings clarity to the Center Perspective. As we conducted workshops and seminars, a consistent question was, “What does it mean if I land in the middle.” My flippant response was often that the person just didn’t have an ethical backbone. However, a young philosophy major challenged me by asking about the existential philosophers. Turns out that Simone de Beauvoir, in her provocative book, The Ethics of Ambiguity, provides a compelling argument for being authentic first and then thinking about ethical norms. De Beauvoir reminds us that while we can be principled, we can’t presume others will agree with or even respect our principles, because people have free will and we don’t know how they will respond. Thus, learning how to effectively deal with ambiguity can provide ethical strength.
The EthicsGame team would like to thank the more than 500,000 faculty members, facilitators, and learners who have completed the ELI since its launch in 2010. Your thoughtful critiques and enthusiasm for the accessible information about chewy ethical theory informed the updates as we rolled out our new, improved version. We know that you’ll find the ELI a wonderful way to springboard the conversations about ethical diversity and how we can all respect each other and learn to get along. Thank you all for participating in the conversation about how we can each bring our best ethical self to our communities and workplace environments.
In an interesting slide-share, Netflix Culture: Freedoms and Responsibility, this fast-rising company presents its core values. as in many tech companies, one of the primary values is hiring the “brightest and the best.” and, if people don’t maintain that standard, they are “given a generous severance” and sent on their way. ouch!
Reflecting on that statement, I had a familiar tightening in my stomach: Could I measure up to that standard? I have no confidence that I am part of the “brightest and best” cohort. And, then I noticed that the belief that being number one is the only goal worth pursing can lead to some interesting, unintended results.
For example, the uproar about sexism that permeated the Uber culture, which hit the blogosphere and then mainstream news, highlighted some of the consequences. Aubs they strove to reach the top of the ladder, Uber was accused of not only engaging in predatory pricing but allowing a culture of bare-knuckle competition to create a dysfunctional work environment—causing wall street financiers to finally sit up and take notice. Clearly, Uber’s fixation on pursuing market position resulted in a de-emphasis on the ethics of the organization, both in allowing the mistreatment of their employees as well as shortchanging their other stakeholders.
Another consequence of “be the best or go home” thinking can be seen in the Academy with the focus on being published in A journals. Andrew Hoffman argues in a provocative article entitled In Praise of B Journals that a fixation on publishing in A journals has resulted in academic publishing “becoming more about establishing a pecking order and less about pursuing knowledge.” This narrow focus results in a limited audience, less creative and diverse research, guaranteed irrelevance, and questionable impact. Hoffman believes that valuing B journals and alternate methods of disseminating academic research will result in more vibrant research agendas and allow researchers to make a greater impact.
Maybe leaders need to acknowledge that most people—including them—are not the “brightest and the best.” Maybe, those leaders and employees would be better served by being content with being “good enough and growing.” That mantra allows business leaders to strive for the business goal of thriving and growing in a competitive environment and the ethical goal of embracing personal growth, treating employees with respect, and building trust with their primary stakeholders.
An intriguing new management book, Mastering Leadership by Robert Anderson and William Adams (Wiley, 2016), asserts that unless a leader attends both to the culture of the organization and their own personal growth, they will not be effective leaders. the claim is that as leaders learn how to be both more effective and more ethical, they will then be able to leverage that learning into creative leadership rather than being reactive to external circumstances.
So, if the CEO of Uber, Travis Kalanick, had paid attention to early warning signs of a toxic environment by looking at his own lack of interpersonal skills—his deficit in ethical acuity—he would not have had the bad press and then the fallout from yelling at an Uber driver. Kalanick finally admitted that he needed to look at his own behavior and the culture of the organization. With more ethical awareness, his realization could have come sooner.
The bottom line is that for organizations to thrive, they must attend both to organizational values leading to success and interpersonal values that support a healthy, productive culture. The ethics of an organization—the way that they translate values into behavior—will help them bridge those two value sets. That bridging and ongoing reflection lets them avoid arrogance, which is the blind spot of those repeating the mantra of only seeking the “brightest and best,” to the more modest but realistic stance of welcoming and developing those who are “good enough and growing.” And, that grace and expectation could be extended to those in the C-Suite as well.
Ethics is about how we translate our values into action. During periods of rapid change, we have to be especially mindful of rocks in the river of life. Otherwise, we may lose our ethical center and capsize—finding ourselves floundering as we make decisions that aren’t our ethical best.
For those who want to kayak down a Class VI river, where violent whitewater presents a constant threat of death, one of the first skills to master is how to roll over in the craft and re-center. As the skill is learned, and then practiced on increasingly difficult stretches of water, paddlers are coached on how to be attentive to the water conditions and mindful of their own capabilities, strength, and balance.
Self-deception can be a powerful tool for becoming more ethical if we are willing to honestly describe the gap between what we do and what kind of a person we really want to be. Dr. Albert Bandura and others who research behavior modification report that if we pretend (a powerful form of self-deception) that we are the person we want to be, with the desired beliefs and behaviors, we can become that imagined person.For educators, our learners practice rolling over their kayak to discover their ethical core. We coach them on how to regain their balance when thrown off by the challenges of a class’s ethics component. Through conversations, case studies, and simulations—through engaging their imagination—learners discover what values are important to them, where they might encounter ethical boulders that can hurl them into the churning water, and how they can regain their ethical center. Faculty members can facilitate ethical growth by teaching students the same two critical skills taught kayakers: being attentive and being mindful.
Being attentive involves two different capabilities. The first is knowing ourselves, what values are important to us and how we want to translate those values into everyday behaviors. This knowledge also includes a healthy awareness of our ethical blind spots and weaknesses so when faced with a difficult situation, we can call on our strength instead of ending up on the rocks.
The second capability, learning to be attentive to others, allows us to understand and be attentive to those who are part of our team and riding the rapids with us. Often, we get so busy trying to ride our own personal rapids that we forget that others are on the journey with us. As we attend to both our own ethical journey and that of others, we will be able to safely navigate the whitewater of change.
Being mindful is the next competence. Being mindful involves not only paying attention but also having some sense of where we are going so we can complete the journey with ease and grace. To be ethically mindful, we need to be aware of four different aspects of our ethical self and keep them in balance.
One aspect is always remembering the kind of person we are and what we want to become. Another is being clear about the principles that guide us in life and how to use them appropriately in ever-changing situations. Another aspect is remembering that we live in community and need to consider whether our actions will support and strengthen the community or weaken it. Finally, we should identify our roles and strive for ethical excellence in each of those positions.
The dual skills of being attentive and mindful allow us to transform our ethics from mindlessly following rules and social conventions to thoughtfully discerning what beliefs and actions are the best in a particular time and place. These twin capacities also allow us to realize the power of personal responsibility and choice as we determine how we will ride the rapids of our personal, professional, and community life toward the safety of still waters.
And, like those who become exhilarated as they navigate a set of Class VI rapids, churning waters that terrify most of us, we can equip ourselves and our learners with the ethical skills to embrace and celebrate times of turbulent change. This ever-increasing set of competencies will give all of us the confidence to maintain our own ethical center as together we navigate the whitewater of life.
“What would it look like if…?” That phrase is the mother of all creative thinking. When puzzling over a problem to be solved, asking the question “What would it look like if…?” allows our creative juices to flow and new solutions to persistent problems to emerge. Often, however, we forget to ask that question when considering our ethics. We often think that following our instincts or loosely-defined shared norms is sufficient, even when faced with complex ethical issues.
Our ethics—the way we translate our values into action—determine what behaviors we embrace or avoid. Interestingly, asking the same question about our ethical behavior helps us imagine a path to ethical maturity. And then, self-deception—a healthy self-deception—can help us develop the capacity to resolve complex ethical issues and become a more effective ethical leader.
Self-deception can be a powerful tool for becoming more ethical if we are willing to honestly describe the gap between what we do and what kind of a person we really want to be. Dr. Albert Bandura and others who research behavior modification report that if we pretend (a powerful form of self-deception) that we are the person we want to be, with the desired beliefs and behaviors, we can become that imagined person.
For example, if we notice that we are not as kind, honest, or fair as we would like to be, we can ask the question, “What would it look like if I was…?” We fill in the blank with the virtues we want to embody and the principles we want to live into, as we pretend we are the more ethical self that we imagined. We then begin choosing beliefs and behaviors that help us become the ethical self we created.
The same process can be used to create a more ethical culture. As we imagine a community where all can live and thrive while individual dreams and preferences are honored, we can again identify concrete beliefs and behaviors that nudge our reality toward that imagined future.
For example, we may reluctantly notice that we’re working in and contributing to a toxic culture. We can then imagine what a non-toxic culture would be and notice where our own and others’ beliefs and behaviors have to change. Then, we begin acting as if—pretending—the new culture already exists. For example, rather than fret because we believe someone is being rude, we can respond to them as if they were polite, as we have imagined ourself and them. They will have to respond to our new behavior—and may surprise themselves by choosing new, cordial, behaviors as well.
Strategic thinking is the process by which we think about, assess, view, and create the future for ourselves and others. As we consider what we want to do and have, we also have the opportunity to think about the kind of person we want to become and the kind of community in which we want to live. Often, the strategic process focuses on actions and outcomes, not our ethics—the values we want to prioritize and the behaviors that would follow from that prioritization. Using our imagination to envision all three facets of the strategic plan allows us to engage in values-infused strategic thinking, an exercise that will ensure that we not only are outwardly successful but effectively live into our values. And then we can fake it till we make it!
As the Wells Fargo saga continues to unfold, those of us who teach ethics in business schools are mystified. We know that we discussed fraud and misrepresentation—and their consequences. As those who responded to EthicsGame’s 2016 survey reported, teaching ethics is very important. So what happened?
The New York Times headline tells all: employees needed a paycheck. Under ordinary circumstances, many employees are honest and ethical. However, when the culture promotes unethical behavior and punishes ethical employees by firing them, people begin to do as they see, not as they’re told. And then, when the reporters and regulators start sniffing around, those in leadership claim innocence by pointing to the ethics training and not noticing their behavior.
Over a period of more than five years, Wells Fargo put aggressive sales metrics in place and fired people for failing to meet their numbers. At the same time, they spent thousands of dollars in ethics training telling people not to set up fake accounts and gave them a hotline to report manager’s misconduct. Employees reported the misconduct; nothing happened. Those low level bank managers and tellers who did not meet their numbers continued to be fired. One wonders exactly what the top management of Wells Fargo expected. Had they never studied the relationship between living into ethical values and the actions of leadership?
Our ethics classes tend to focus on helping individuals avoid unethical behavior such as falsifying signatures and participating in fraud. American businesses like to peddle the notion that unethical behavior is the result of one or two bad apples.
However, those who have studied ethical failures know that an unethical culture—unchallenged bad behavior on the part of leadership and a system that rewards unethical action—will trump all the ethics education in the world. People—especially those at the middle and bottom of the economic system—don’t want to risk their paycheck by raising ethical concerns. Economic fear quickly quenches any fervent flames of ethical desire.
As the dust settled for Wells Fargo, the former consumer banking chief, Carrie Tolstedt, who was in charge of the region with the most flagrant abuses, was allowed to retire with a $124.6m payout and praise from the company’s leadership. At the same time, the bank paid out $185m in fines. The regulations put in place after the latest financial crisis were supposed to stop this kind of behavior. But the reality is that without suspending business line licenses and holding the top executives to the same standards as the rank-and-file, change will not happen.
Yet, those of us who teach ethics, whether in a university or an organization, cannot give up the battle. Without us raising the possibility that both leaders and managers in organizations can be ethical and successful, the vision of an ethical organization will not be seen.
We can remind our learners who are or will become entry level employees that they are the ones who will take the fall for unethical behavior. They can then develop the moral courage and voice to overcome their fear of a loss of income. And, those of us who teach executives can help them strategize on systemic approaches for their businesses that will both meet the requirements of Wall Street and result in an ethical organization.
Finally, those of us who are watching can vote with our feet and our voices. As we let businesses know that we will not patronize companies that are unethical and will tell our friends and neighbors to avoid them, executives might pause before allowing unethical systems to fester and thrive. What we cannot allow is for unethical behavior to be unchallenged or tolerated as the status quo.
In the EthicsGame 2016 Survey of Ethics Educators, 80% of the more than 2300 respondents who include an ethics component in their courses said that teaching critical thinking is the most important learning outcome for their classes. Now, one component of critical thinking is determining the facts and assumptions in the dilemma at hand. Another part is determining the ethical issue to be resolved.
But, for those who blend ethics education with teaching critical thinking, the focus becomes teaching moral reasoning: helping students determine standards for ethical behavior and analyzing ethical failure. John Harris, in Be Good: The Possibility of Moral Enhancement, claims that those of us engaged in ethics education have as a primary task teaching our students how to both recognize and avoid moral failure, those times when
compassion, altruism, and basic decency fail or when those who take actions in the world fail to think about or feel for those whose lives will be impacted by their actions.
Over the centuries, people have brought forward many theories to allow them to escape responsibility for their actions. All of them provide some version of determinism, where the limits of individual free will and responsibility for action are showcased in order to deflect blame because somehow acting badly was outside of our control.
But, from Shakespeare reminding listeners in Julius Caesar that
The fault…is not in our stars, But in ourselves, to current day behavioral ethicists who encourage us to mindfully become aware of the biological and social nudges that keep us from being our best self, the message is the same: by knowing ourselves, evaluating the situation, and pausing to consider the best options for action, we are free to act responsibly—or not.
Perhaps the greatest gift that we can give our students is to teach them to pause and reflect before they act. John R. Searle, a preeminent philosopher at the University of California, Berkeley, in Seeing Things As They Are stresses that we must first be willing to see the world as clearly and objectively as possible—even if what we see doesn’t match up with our preferred world view. In this day of overwhelming chatter in social media, teaching our learners to thoughtfully explore world views with which they don’t agree is an essential critical thinking skill.
And, then, they can pause—and reflect on their own values and ethical motivations.
Each of us comes into this world with an ethical disposition—a tendency to interact with others in particular ways. That disposition is reinforced and shaped during early childhood, providing the foundations for our instinctive ethical responses, often translated to us by our feelings and ethical intuitions.
However, those feelings are not always right, do not always lead us to doing the best thing, all things considered. The opportunity for unethical action comes when our feelings are tinged with fear or greed, or if our feelings are fed by a sense of self-righteousness or personal superiority. Without acknowledgement of our ethical shadow side, reflection and deliberation, we can make choices that not only fail to live into our own professed values but which also significantly inhibit the ability of those around us who are impacted by our decisions to thrive.
The existential philosophers call us to authentic ethical action, action taken after we see how our tendencies to act have been shaped by biological and cultural factors rather than by our own values and sense of self. Authentic ethical action requires that we see ourselves clearly and then, using the various traditional ethical perspectives, choose the best action in that moment.
Simone de Beauvoir in Ethics of Ambiguity claims that
to will oneself moral and to will oneself free are one and the same decision. Claiming that freedom—freedom that humans seem to crave more than life itself—requires taking responsibility for personal actions rather than shifting blame by saying
It’s Just Not My Fault!
77% of the respondents to EthicsGame’s Survey also said that teaching students to describe the role of ethics in their professional discipline is a core learning objective. Key to that task is showing the results of both taking courageous action for the good of oneself and the community as a whole and demonstrating what happens when our professional leaders take an expedient path or abuse their personal or professional power.
The ability to pause, look clearly at oneself and the situation, and then choose to live from the best of human values is what all of us who are engaged in ethics education teach. And, 86% of our respondents agree, that teaching moral reasoning is one of the most important tasks that we as educators have.
Thanks for being one of those committed to teaching ethical leadership.
The headline after Villanova beat University of Oklahoma in the Final Four last weekend read—“Moral of Villanova victory: The better team beat the best player”. The game validated the work of neurobiologists who explore the genetic imprints that nudge us toward what we define as ethical behavior.
The research of E. O. Wilson and others has found that, within groups, self-interested individuals beat altruistic individuals but altruistic groups beat groups of selfish people. Thus, the growth of civilization depends on humans determining the boundaries of cooperation and competition—the study of ethics.
The Villanova team provided an excellent example of the interplay between self-interest and altruism. Each of the players was expected to bring their personal best to the game. Each person honed their skills, learned the plays, and was primed for a win. And, the players took turns both guarding Buddy Hield, U of Oklahoma’s star player, and contributing to the win.
While those of us who teach ethics often emphasize being selfless and working for the good of the whole, we forget that each of us needs to be self-interested enough to be skilled at something and to take care of ourselves to the degree we are able. This acceptable self-interest is implied while we are cautioned not to become selfish. Ethics—the actions that count for being a “good” person in community—is ultimately the study of trust. And, what to do with people who violate that trust.
As the human brain became more sophisticated, it allowed humans to assess the intentions of others by listening to how they describe themselves. Do they have principles by which they live? Do they share goals that will contribute to everyone thriving? Do they use power wisely? As they take on roles in the community, are they willing to seek excellence in those roles—as defined by other people in the community?
Each one of those questions has a whole body of literature going back over more than 5,000 years to help us evaluate someone’s answer. If someone says that they are a principled person who values telling the truth, what does that mean? Do we have shared meanings for those principles? If someone is given power, how do we decide whether they will use that power wisely? The study of ethics helps us discover how others have answered those questions and how we want to answer them for ourselves.
Another human development was having a memory good enough to remember how people behaved in the past. Did this person say they valued telling the truth—and then lie to us? Did they say that they respected all people but treat people of different races or religions—people from different tribes—badly? The part of ethical studies that asks us to focus on what kind of a person we want to be and what kinds of groups we want to be with reminds us that others are determining how we “walk our talk.”
We also become skilled in evaluating those we were considering trusting. Can we count on them to live into their stated principles? Will they be good in the roles they take on? Should we let them in the group or exclude them? Every group has non-negotiable behaviors: if you are too selfish and threaten the group as a whole, you will be asked to leave. Or shunned.
Finally, humans became skilled at inventing and inwardly rehearsing different scenarios about the future. Given that each of us is a blend of self-interested actions and altruistic behavior, what do we know both about ourselves and the others in the situation that would help us determine how to proceed? The Broadway play All The Way tells the story of Lyndon Baines Johnson getting the Civil Rights Act through Congress. He had as his goal ending racial discrimination. On the journey, he knew the ethical strengths and weakness of each of the primary stakeholders. Using that information, he both cajoled and threatened people as the project moved forward. An interesting question for each of us as we watch leaders moving their projects ahead is whether the goals and the methods are in fact those that will allow others in the community and the community as a whole to thrive—or not. Are they using their power wisely and well?
The study of ethics is often presented as a path to utopia—where we’ll all behave well and the world will be a wonderful place. While the ideal is important, the study of ethics also has to include the realities of human existence. We all have to learn to balance self-interest and altruism. We all need to evaluate whether we can trust someone else or whether our trust is misplaced. And, as we live and work with others who are engaging the same questions, we may be given the opportunity to play for a team like the 2016 Villanova men’s basketball team, a team that was, in the words of Reid Forgrave, “as egoless as it was scrappy.”
Over the past several months, those of us in academics have had thoughtful—and heated—conversations about trigger warnings. What obligation do faculty members have to warn students that content, in either assignments or classroom discussions, might be upsetting to their learners?
On one side of the conversation, faculty members and students assert that trigger warnings allow those who have experienced some form of trauma in their life to avoid situations that might trigger a major upset. On the other side, people assert that all of us have had upsetting experiences, and we need to develop personal resilience and objectivity to deal with those situations.
This conversation falls squarely into the concerns of virtue ethics (the Reputation Lens). What expectations do members of the community have for each other as we seek excellence in our professional and personal roles? The difficulty is that the definition of excellence seems to be ever evolving.
During the past month, I’ve had the opportunity to make several classroom presentations. As I introduced the opportunity for ethical growth the Reputation Lens presents, I shared my own growth as a faculty member. I started my career in classrooms where I wasn’t expected to give any particular warning about what might upset students. Later, I was expected to provide some version of a trigger warning so that those who might be emotionally impacted by the lessons of the day could either prepare themselves for the content or choose to miss the class.
The difficulty I shared with the students is that, as a faculty member, I have no idea what personal experience might “trigger” an upset response from my students. One of the tools of the trade for academics is presenting ideas in ways that expand the world view of learners and challenge their belief systems. In fact, a pedant might say that every syllabus should contain a trigger warning: all ideas are dangerous!
I was raised in an evangelical family and was taught that Moses himself wrote the first five books of the Bible. I blithely went off to Pacific Lutheran University where in my Intro to Religion course, the professor casually said that four different authors wrote the Pentateuch over a period of hundreds of years. I was stopped short. Was that true? What did that fact mean for my faith?
And, if I believed him, could I still be part of my own faith community? Could I be a teacher in my church if I accepted the scholarship of theologians rather than the authority of my pastor? That prof had no idea that the content of one lecture would raise faith-shattering questions—and the answers would change my whole life.Classes in sociology that deal with systemic injustice against marginalized classes may cause great disquiet for those who have suffered first hand because of the myriad forms of injustice in our communities. Classes in economics that talk about wealth disparity may cause great embarrassment for those who were raised in families who received food stamps or other public aid. Classes in psychology that deal with the dynamics of addiction may cause great discomfort for those who have faced the ravages of drug use and abuse, either personally or in loved ones.
The second is the philosophical approach: using reason to moderate desire and achieve contentment in this life. According to the philosophers, objectively looking at our life conditions and opportunities is the best method to help us achieve contentment. The Greek philosophers, in particular the Stoics and the Skeptics, spent a great deal of time teaching different methods of evaluating the world around us in order to moderate desires. All of the methods involved some version of learning to be content with the cards we were dealt in life. The philosophic approach has some mixed success in that we wind up questioning everything—even ourselves—and so others might consider us a bit odd.
As the students and I engaged in conversation about the ethically responsible way to deal with trigger warnings, I made every effort to listen carefully to the experience and beliefs of the students. I made sure that I respected their experience and reflected back to them their pain, as appropriate. I then invited them to consider the position of the faculty member. What would they recommend? What was the corresponding obligation of the student?
As we moved toward resolution—a more nuanced approach to the problem than the first solutions suggested—we realized that we have mutual responsibility. The faculty member has some responsibility to both talk about the disruptive effect of education and notify the learners of the content of the classes. The learners have some responsibility to communicate privately with the faculty their own areas of sensitivity and to begin to use the content of the classes to get a bit of objective distance. The learners can then, perhaps, use the new knowledge to facilitate their growth in emotional strength and resilience.
The solution we arrived at was found in justice theories—the Relationship Lens—which helps us fashion a roadmap for creating ethical processes and using personal and organizational power responsibly. Through thoughtfully considering both context of the educational enterprise and the respective ethical obligations of the parties, an ethically mature—and satisfying—solution was fashioned. Ethical agility—the ability to use the ethical norms of more than one ethical perspective—saved the day.
Ethics: Bridging Culture and Compliance was the theme for EthicsGame workshops at two recent conferences, the 108th Annual Meeting for the National Association of State Board of Accountancy and Corporate Learning Week 2015. Both workshops explored how to help people recognize an ethical dilemma and then use multiple ethical perspectives to resolve the problem.
The culture of a profession or organization―the unspoken rules about how things are done―forms one end of the bridge. Culture can either support people in bringing their best selves to work or create conditions of fear, anxiety, or apathy that can poison the workplace. As individuals know both their own ethical values and then how to respect and honor the ethical perspectives of others, the organizational culture can be strengthened.
The other end of the bridge, learning how to play within the rules―compliance―helps create a community in which individuals and organizations can thrive. But if a person doesn’t know why the rules are in place―the value priorities that led to the principle―organizational decision making can be stifled. People become fixated on following the letter of the existing law instead of watching for changes on the horizon that may require a different approach.
Ethics―the way that one translates values into action―bridges culture and compliance by helping us consider our core values and commitments and then learn how to choose a wise course of action when those values are in tension. The bridge has five key steps:
Ethics: Bridging Culture and Compliance was the As an ethics educator, you have the opportunity to teach people how to thoughtfully evaluate their values, leverage their ethical strengths, neutralize their ethical weaknesses, and make wise decisions in order to better live a life of meaning and purpose. With thoughtfulness and committed action, the ethics of individuals and organizations can provide the bridge between meaningful compliance and a thriving culture.
On June 13, 2015, Catharyn spoke at TEDx MileHigh. Her talk was entitled “Ethics for People on the Move.” Her message was that none of us have the answers to increasingly complex questions about how to both be effective in our work and live well with others. Thus, studying ethics and developing decision- making skills is relevant for all of us.
Everyone—from undergraduates through executives—can benefit from the knowledge that whether they are exploring their inner landscape, traveling through our wonderful world, or acting as a mover and shaker in their professional life, their ethics – how they translate values into action – will determine how far they go and how satisfied they will be with the journey.
Baird reminded the audience that yesterday’s answers to ethical problems might not be relevant to today’s dilemmas. The skill that has to be learned is how to recognize and resolve emerging ethical dilemmas. The process involves engaging in meaningful conversations with our self and others, paying attention to our motives and the results, and choosing to act with as much wisdom as we have.
As a foundation, learning to use the Four Ethical Lenses™, four different perspectives for exploring and resolving ethical problems, can help focus the questions that point to the best answer. Thus, rather than memorizing pat answers, this integrative approach to ethics equips us to respond to new situations while grounded in timeless ethical principles and goals. Then, as we move through our lives, taking on new roles and finding ourselves in different situations, we will be equipped to make wise ethical decisions on our life’s path.
Click the image at the start of this article to view the TEDx talk. We hope you’ll take time to watch her talk and consider sharing it with your students!
Find out how you can incorporate ethics and critical thinking into your curriculum. EthicsGame products can be used in Business, Health Care, Education, Nursing and Campus Life.