Chapter Two
Check Your Moral Compass
We know darn well what is
right and wrong.
No one is raised in a moral vacuum. Every mentally balanced human recognizes basic right from wrong. Whether a person is brought up as Christian, Jew, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu, Unitarian, New Age, a free thinker, or an atheist, he or she is taught from toddler on that you shouldn’t lie, steal, cheat, or be deliberately rude, and that there are consequences for doing so.
There is no such thing as a moral agnostic. An amoral person is a moral person who temporarily—and often quite creatively—disconnects from his or her values. Each of us possesses a moral GPS, a compass or conscience, if you will, programmed by parents, teachers, coaches, clergy, grandparents, uncles and aunts, scout-masters, friends, and peers. It came with the package, and it continues to differentiate between proper and improper courses until the day we expire.
When I was 10 years old, there resided several blocks from our home Edwards Market, one of those old houses with the grocery store in the front and the proprietors’ residence in the back. It was only 200 or 300 square feet in size, but at my age the place looked like a supermarket. At the time, I was making about 50 cents a day selling and delivering the local newspaper.
I entered the store while on my route one day, and no one seemed to be around. Ice cream sandwiches had just come on the market. It was hot, and I wanted to try one. I reached inside the small freezer and grabbed an ice cream bar. I slipped the wrapped sandwich into my pocket. Moments later, Mrs. Edwards appeared, asking if she could help me.
“No, thanks,” I answered politely and headed for the door. Just before it slammed shut, I heard her say, “Jon, are you going to pay for that ice cream sandwich?” Embarrassed, I turned around and sheepishly walked back to the freezer where my slightly shaking hand returned the ice cream sandwich to its rightful place. Mrs. Edwards never said another word.
It was a necessary lesson for a young, adventuresome boy, one that I have not forgotten 60 years later. It wasn’t at the moment of being exposed that I suddenly realized I had done something wrong. I knew it the second I slipped my hand into the freezer, just as I would know today if I pulled a similar, but more sophisticated, stunt in a business transaction. Each of us is taught it is wrong to take that which doesn’t belong to us.
Certain types of behavior encourage a disconnect with our inner compass or conscience: Rationalizing dims caution lights, arrogance blurs boundaries, desperation overrides good sense. Whatever the blinders may be, the right-wrong indicator light continues to flash all the same. We might not ask, but the compass tells.
Some point out that today’s society tolerates too much questionable activity, making it difficult for the younger generation to get a consistent fix on right and wrong. Little wonder, goes this line of thought, that when the newest batch of apprentices bolt from their classrooms, their values are open to negotiation.
I am aware of polls showing that the older generation views the younger generations as less grounded in ethics, but I am not totally buying that line of thought. Society certainly is more permissive than when I was a child, but does anyone today truly condone stealing? Some modern teens may dismiss it, but does any student not consider cheating intrinsically wrong, no matter how many of their friends do it? Does society accept cooking corporate books, embezzlement, fraud, or outlandish perks for corporate executives? The answers, of course, are no.
Basic misbehavior is considered as wrong today as it was 100 years ago, although I grant that today’s atmosphere produces more creative and sophisticated rationalizations for such mischief. This is why heeding the advice of George Washington, a man renowned for his integrity, is worthwhile: “Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”
Humans are the only earthly species that experience guilt. We never see our pet dogs, cats, or canaries acting chagrined for eating too much food or forgetting their manners. (And heaven knows some of them abuse the system.) Humans are unique for their ability to recognize righteous paths from indecent ones. And when we choose the wrong route, we squirm—at least inwardly.
The needle of individual compasses points true. Conceptually, ethical routes are self-evident to reasonable persons.
We are not always required by law to do what is right and proper. Decency and generosity, for instance, carry no legal mandate. Pure ethics are optional.
Laws define courses to which we must legally adhere or avoid. Ethics are standards of conduct that we ought to follow. There is some overlap of the two, but virtuous behavior usually is left to individual discretion. All the professional training in the world does not guarantee moral leadership. Unlike laws, virtue cannot be politically mandated, let alone enforced by bureaucrats, but that doesn’t stop them from trying. Congress considered the corporate world today so challenged when it comes to ethics that it enacted the Sarbanes-Oxley Act in an attempt to regain credibility for the marketplace. Ultimately, though, respect, civility, and integrity will return only upon the individual-by-individual return of values.
Ethical behavior is to business competition what sportsmanship is to athletic contests. We were taught to play by the rules, to be fair, and to show sportsmanship. The rulebook didn’t always state specifically that shortcuts were prohibited. It went without saying that every competitor ran around the oval track and didn’t cut across the infield.
My grandsons have a special club called The Great, Great Guys Club (The G3 Club). Members have to be at least six years old to attend meetings. It is not permissible to fall asleep, wet your pants, or crawl under the table, among other prohibitions. They set their own rules. Amazingly, the club is quite orderly. Because parents aren’t present, it is interesting to observe the standards they establish by themselves. Here are a couple of examples (with Grandpa’s literary padding):
Do what you’re supposed to when you are told to do it.
Kindness and honesty determine heart and character.
Never tell lies.
Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze.
Kids usually know proper behavior, even if they don’t always show it. Their moral compasses, although still developing, are in working order. They are too young to know they can trade in their conscience for a higher credit rating at Moody’s. They instinctively know a conscience at ease is a best friend. They have never heard of Sophocles, but they understand his message: “There is no witness so terrible or no accuser so powerful as the conscience.”
Ever notice how little guile youngsters exhibit? How honest they are with observations? How well they play with others? How smoothly they compete when adults aren’t present? Sure, there always were—and still are—periodic squabbles, teasing, and selfishness, but kids generally work it out without a 300-page rulebook or a court of law. Sandlot games are played without referees or umpires, clocks, or defined boundary lines. Vague though those lines may be, sides come to an agreement when someone stepped out-of-bounds. When kids occasionally are thoughtless, it is more a case of spontaneous reaction rather than calculated meanness.
As a rule, playground protocol requires we offer a hand up to flattened opponents, share toys, call out liars and cheaters, play games fairly, and utter expressions of gratitude and praise—please, thanks, nice shot, cool—without prompt. To paraphrase Socrates, clear consciences prompt harmony.
At times, certain students in my tenth-grade biology class would write answers to a forthcoming quiz on the palms of their hands or cuffs of their shirts. Not many tried this because everyone knew cheating was wrong. In addition to the fear of being caught, most students also longed for respect as much as good grades. Once someone saw you cheating, you were never elected to student offices or respected on the sports field. Maybe that was simply part of the innocence of the 1950s, but 21st century students still know cheating is wrong, even though they may show more indifference toward this transgression than past generations.
People often offer as an excuse for lying, cheating, and fraud that they were pressured into it by high expectations or that “everyone does it.” Some will claim that it is the only way they can keep up. Those excuses sound better than the real reasons they choose the improper course: arrogance, power trips, greed, and lack of backbone, all of which are equal-opportunity afflictions. One’s economic status, sphere of influence, religious upbringing, or political persuasions never seem to be factors in determining whom these viruses will next ensnare.
There is contained in every rationale and every excuse, bogus as each ultimately ends up being, an awareness of impropriety. Succeeding or getting to the top at all costs by definition is an immoral goal. The ingredients for long-term success—courage, vision, follow-through, risk, opportunity, sweat, sacrifice, skill, discipline, honesty, graciousness, generosity—never vary. And we all know this.
However, in the winner-take-all atmosphere of today’s marketplace, shortcuts to success, at least initially, are alluring, and lying often can be lucrative. That said, scammers, cheaters, performance-enhancing drug users, shell-and-pea artists, and the like historically have never prevailed for long. And when their fall does come, it is fast, painful, embarrassing, and lasting.
Whether exaggerating resumés or revenues, plagiarizing or profiteering, philandering or fibbing, people nearly always attempt to justify their unethical conduct when the transgression is discovered. Enron officials rationalized from the beginning, and the same with Tyco brass, but the improper path is never a requisite for success.
Values provide us with ethical water wings whose deployment is as critical in today’s wave-tossed corporate boardrooms as they were in yesterday’s classrooms.