Our ethical radar screen
by Simon Longstaff
For many people, the importance of ethics in daily life only comes into sharp focus as a result of encountering unethical conduct. Sometimes the experience is immediate and intensely personal. At other times, it is the experience of others that captures our attention.
It might be that we are put into a position where we feel compelled to violate a basic principle; for example, to lie in order to protect our organisation from justifiable censure, to harm another for the 'greater good of the greater number'.
Or we might observe the really terrible effect that unethical conduct can have on others. In some cases, unethical behaviour can lead to loss of life, or to a life that is seriously diminished in terms of its quality. As examples of this, we might think of those accidents where people die – simply because a decision was made to compromise established standards in order to save a few dollars. There are also numerous cases where people try to do the right thing – and are punished by their organisations for doing so (the plight of most whistleblowers comes to mind).
There are two reasons for raising this issue. The first is to highlight the importance of ethics as a set of practical concerns that often have a powerful impact on the lives of people and other organisms with whom we share the Earth.
The discussion of ethics can sometimes seem as remote as the old medieval debates about the number of angels that could fit on the head of a pin (a serious concern for a couple of hundred years). However, if anyone was to sit in on one of the many counselling calls taken by the Ethics Centre's Counselling service, then they would suddenly see how deeply some of these issues cut.
The other reason for raising this issue is that it highlights one of the most important questions in ethics. I began by noting that the importance of ethics tends to come to mind as the result of direct experience – either as an individual who is immediately affected or through our relationship with others who are in difficulty. The question to be asked is this: “Who or what should appear on our ethical radar screen' as deserving of our consideration?”
Imagine that it is raining outside and there is no shelter to be found. Suppose that it is up to you to decide how big a tent should be erected. Would you put up; a one-person tent, a family-sized tent, a tent large enough to cover all in your nation, and so on. In fact, the size of the tent is likely to vary, quite considerably, depending on religious and cultural factors.
For example, some people will only recognise an ethical obligation to themselves – an approach known as ethical egoism. Others recognise wider obligations – but limited to a tightly defined sub-group of humanity. Muslims, Jews and Christians believe (or are supposed to believe) that all people are made in the image of God. Thus, they are deserving of a fundamental and irreducible degree of respect. Broader still, is the approach taken by other world-views, such as Buddhism, in which one finds a reverence for all life. Finally, some cultures hold that all creation is sacred.
Where one draws the boundary of our ethical concerns obviously matters. In the most extreme examples, history shows how the most horrendous acts have been perpetrated against people – simply because they were not considered able to feel and suffer ‘like us’.
This issue is something that I explored in the introduction to St James Ethics Centre's 1999-2000 Annual Report. The worst evils are done when we fail to recognise the ethical claims made on us by other people, organisms and things.
However, what of the other side of the coin? What of the good not done – simply through a failure to recognise the needs of a stranger? How many times do we turn away from a person in distress because they are not our concern? What gifts of time, care or compassion might we offer (with little cost to ourselves) if only we truly felt some connection with others beyond our immediate circle?
Equally importantly, how might our view of charitable giving be changed if we really started to see others as whole people – with views of their own and a dignity that can only be properly recognised by taking them seriously and entering into a relationship of equal value – expressed in different forms?
These are not easy questions to answer. It may be true that charity begins at home. It may be that giving is to good cause is less important than making a difference where you stand. But for all the difficulty of answering such questions, it would seem to be important that they be kept in mind – lest the 'strangers' suffer the ultimate indignity of becoming invisible to our hearts and minds.
discuss this articleDr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.
This article was first published in Living Ethics, issue 42, summer 2001
© St James Ethics Centre