Chapter Six
Why We Cross the Line
There are many temptations, but reminders help.
Why is it that some bright students choose to cheat? Why do some otherwise upstanding citizens chisel on their income tax returns? Why do some physically-fit, talented athletes inject themselves with performance-enhancing drugs? How can some folks who profess to be religious look you in the eye and tell you a lie? How is it that some law-abiding people cheat on their spouses? Why do some super-wealthy corporate executives line their already bulging wallets through fraudulent methods? And, while we are figuring out life’s mysteries, why is it that some of the richest people seem to have the hardest time parting with money for those in need?
All simple questions with various and complex answers. We certainly aren’t forced to perform in unethical ways, but dishonesty (and selfishness) occurs often enough, if news media, academic research, and our own experience are valid indicators. Some claim dishonesty is rampant, although there is no empirical evidence to support that contention. (Who would trust a poll of liars and cheats, in any case?) There may be less ethical behavior today, but it also is true that it is more publicized than 50 years ago. High-profile anecdotes may give the impression that it’s more commonplace.
This I do know: Dishonesty is not a modern phenomenon.
Most of us think of ourselves as honest, decent, moral human beings—and, for the most part, we are. The apparent dilemma—our perception versus real life—suggests we are, at times, in some level of denial. In fact, we periodically engage in minor dishonest and unethical acts for a variety of reasons.
For some, the motivation may by nothing more than the cheap thrill of stepping over the line, of tempting fate. For others, the answer may lie in whether the dishonest act makes “sense” to us on a cost-benefit analysis, whether the ill-gotten gain exceeds or “justifies” the risk.
Are there times when we feel so beleaguered, we believe we have no choice but to engage in ethical corner-cutting as the only practical avenue out? Do some people experience an ethical short circuit because of the pressures? Or are they simply too self-centered to care? The reasons for improper conduct are many; the right route is but one.
Honesty is viewed by all religions and nearly every society as a virtue. Study after study reveals that people value honesty and strongly believe they are honest. We don’t like to be lied to, or lose out to a cheater, or be confronted with fraud. It angers us when public officials engage in wrongdoing and when CEOs cook private-sector books.
Furthermore, we know unethical behavior when we see it. Parents know when their children are fibbing. Recent research into a toddler’s sense of values produced evidence that children as young as three years old can detect when someone is not telling them the truth.
That each of us occasionally stumbles is no revelation. Ever since Adam failed the original taste test, the world is replete with examples of individuals making bad choices. We, after all, are frail, imperfect humans, prone to mistakes. Our biases, greed, and conceit generally are the underlying causes of jumping righteous rails. The occasional slip, fortunately, does not become habitual with most of us because when we make a mistake, we feel bad, embarrassed, and guilty. Sooner or later, we own up. None of us wants to break his or her word.
Yet there are times when it is impossible to keep it. Remember, though, that a bad turn of events does not release us from our promise. Only the person to whom your word was given can release you from that. We must inform the person of our dilemma and give him or her the opportunity, if he or she so chooses, to let us off the hook.
In prosperous times, people sometimes wander from the ethical walkway, blinded by the glitter of the gold. The temptation lurks to prolong the euphoria by the easiest means possible. We may decide that engaging in ethical behavior may put us at a disadvantage with respect to how others fare. (Athletes who use performance-enhancing drugs, for example, feel that they can’t afford to stop because their competitors take them.)
Unethical acts can be viewed as the more practical route. The potential penalty for dishonesty may appear small compared to the perceived advantages that it makes sense to do it.
In uncertain times, people may see dishonesty as the only way to preserve their careers, as the fastest cure to rebuilding wealth, or the only way to keep their heads above water. They may falsely believe they have nothing to lose, or that the dishonesty will only take place “just this once.” It is a greasy slope, to be sure.
There is no excuse for lying, cheating, and selfishness under any circumstances, but one can see how the pressure to do so builds during a crisis. That’s why I feel compelled to reissue a strong call for reaffirming our moral foundations.
Some people—probably small in number—in business, sports, academics, politics, and organizations are flat out pathologically unethical. They need help beyond what I can offer here. Additionally, there is a group of folks out there who don’t give a darn about others. They are in it for themselves. This latter group is a growing problem and a menace to the values we hold dear.
We are all pulled, at times, between competing motivations: the short-term gain from cheating versus the maintenance of a positive self-image. Either choice requires a sacrifice. If the reward is not large, the cost of remaining honest is minimal. If the benefit is larger or perceived to be more necessary, the decision to remain honest becomes much harder.
This cost-benefit theory was the basis of an experiment, “The Dishonesty of Honest People,” undertaken in 2005 by economists Nina Mazar and Dan Ariely of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and On Amir, a marketing expert at the University of California at San Diego.
Participants carefully weighed the advantages and disadvantages of honesty and dishonesty, reaching a decision that maximized their best interests, including internal rewards. The individuals were paid so much for each correct answer. In other words, if a respondent did not know the answer to a question, cheating to find the correct response would net him or her additional compensation.
Needless to say, there was considerable cheating. The threat of getting caught did not seem to figure into the equation. When the conductors of this test added a twist to the exam, however, the results were dramatic. (I will provide the details shortly.)
Winning isn’t always measured in money. There will be times when one will lose money—sometimes a lot of it—but winning is much more than ledgers. In assessing our worth, look first to the bedrock of our lives: values, health, family, and friends. Dying is no fun, even if you leave behind a pot of gold. Family and friends are the lifeblood and legacy of our lives.
Our values, if properly anchored, will see us through these storms. Take a deep breath in the middle of a crisis and consider these bright stars in our human solar system. If they are aligned, all is well. From there, one can set about restructuring what it is that put us in the mess. Never adjust your values downward. To do so requires that you must lie to yourself. Once you see yourself as a fraud, your positive self-image evaporates. The best way to keep that from happening when in crisis mode is to actively change the status quo. Talk to people, take a break, stuff any money left under a mattress until the hurricane blows over. Start over. (I have started over on three occasions, each time reaching or exceeding a billion dollars in value.) It can be done, and you can do it.
Now for the twist I mentioned earlier with the cheating experiment: The people in the test (and anywhere else, for that matter) knew inwardly that dishonesty is wrong. The concept of honesty was not new to them, but basic knowledge of right and wrong behavior is not always sufficient to keep people on the straight and narrow, the Mazar-Amir-Ariely study concluded. “The question is not whether a person knows it is wrong to behave dishonestly, but rather whether he or she thinks of those (moral) standards and compares his or her behavior to the standards at the moment the person is tempted to behave dishonestly.”
So, in the second go-round with the 229 student participants, they were asked to complete a short assignment before taking the exam that would reward them financially for each correct answer. Half of the students were instructed to write down 10 books they had read in high school; the other half was asked to recall as many of the 10 Commandments as they could remember. There was no direct reward for either of these preliminary tasks.
On average, the participants remembered only about four of the Commandments, but it was enough. In the group that had to recall its high school reading, the cheating level was the same as the day before, but cheating was significantly lower for the group that first had to recall the Commandments, the basic moral code for a Judeo-Christian culture. In a nutshell, this is what the three researchers made of it: When reminded of our core values, the tendency for deception decreases.
It wasn’t the rules or the potential punishment that kept people honest. It was being reminded of core values embedded from our earliest days: Don’t steal. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie.
We are in dire need of constant reminders, whether from others or from ourselves, of the universal axiom: Honesty is the best policy.