Virtue and the ethical dimension
by Simon Longstaff
Virtue is, in part, learned from following the examples of others. But it is not a matter of mindless obedience and imitation. In such circumstances, a wrong turn can be disastrous. No, there is also need for an ability to think for oneself and, eventually, to adopt a course of action or way of life because of personal commitment based on mature reflection.
To talk of virtue and responsibility is to use the language of ethics. It is a language that many have lost. Others feel genuinely uncomfortable when it is uttered. The ethical dimension surrounds us. It is part of everything that we do. Whenever we have a choice, or a decision to make, we enter the ethical landscape. But what sort of place is this?
Firstly, it is a place where practical decisions are made - “what do I do here and now?”.
Secondly, it is a place of ‘greys’ rather than ‘blacks and whites’. Equally valuable principles come into conflict and there are many occasions when there is no simple answer. We are left to muddle through as best we can - sometimes having to choose the least bad alternative. Is it any wonder that people feel uncomfortable? After all, most of us look for certainty as an antidote to an ever changing world. Certainty relieves us of the burden of choice. Yet here is a place where the firm ground of certainty gives way to the boggy terrain of the ethical dilemma.
Finally, ethics is about relationships. It is about the choices we make about ways in which we relate to other people. Hence my insistence on notions of inter-personal accountability as an indispensable addition to the cold logic of regulation and surveillance.
Relationships are the key. The true professional understands this because of the constant requirement that personal interests be submerged in favour of others. This can only be done if one is open to others and to their needs.
The commitment to professionalism calls forth a primary virtue. I speak of moral courage - the ability to stand up for what is right, even when to do so involves significant personal cost. Physical threats tend to be immediate and intense. Because of this, the corresponding type of courage is sometimes treated as if more ‘real’. But both are equally important and both give rise to heroes.
Some think that heroes are forged in the white heat of the dangerous moment. But there is another kind of hero, the person of quiet decency whose achievement is only built over an entire career.
We are struck by the intensity of lightning, yet fail to mention the thunder that rolls on into the distance long after the lightning's moment has passed. We are captured by the tumultuous descent of the waterfall while the steady progress of the river is ignored. And we marvel at the ocean's power unaware of the fact that we stand upon ground claimed for us by the silent witness of the ancient cliff. In each case the spectacular is only made possible by the patient and mundane.
Our society needs professionals who are capable of both types of heroism - people who have the courage to act in a spirit of public service, whatever the demands may be.
Society vs the ‘enterprise association’
In the current social environment there are many who would argue that a genuine commitment to ethics is an unrealisable ideal. Many think that sound ethical principles are fine in theory but that they can't really be applied in practice. To try to do so is to be nostalgic. They say that to promote virtue is to be old fashioned, to hark back to ideas only useful in a different era. They ask us to be 'realistic' and to embrace the 'modern' way of doing things.
This plea is often nothing more than an ill disguised plea to allow for the survival of the fittest. Perhaps such people are right. Perhaps a dog-eat-dog world will be the most efficient. And perhaps efficiency is the only value that we need to embrace in the search for a worthwhile life. Or perhaps efficiency is only one of a number of important values that we must learn to juggle across an unpredictable landscape.
Those of us who are serious about the need to make ethical considerations an explicit concern in our daily lives must face up to this challenge. After all, what if our critics in the market place are right? What if the prime (and exclusive) aim in life really is to maximise our satisfaction of wants (and not just needs)? What if the liberty of the individual (important as it is) transcends all other considerations? What if it is through competition alone that we find the ultimate expression of our humanity?
One can only reply that an authentic commitment to leading an ethical life may require us to live in a way that makes only partial sense in a world dominated by an orientation to the principles of laissez faire. To pick up a point in the article by Hugh Mackay re-printed in this issue of City Ethics, a commitment to ethics may only make full sense when viewed against a background of community. That is, the possibility of leading an ethical life probably depends on the prior existence of a society and not just an enterprise association.
Most people have a fairly good feel for what it means to live in a ‘society’. But what about an ‘enterprise association’? John Casey¹ has tried to describe the latter:
We might imagine a city founded purely as a trading post. The laws of the city will reflect its original purpose, and have to be understood in relation to this purpose. Contracts will be vigorously enforced however unreasonable or unjust, because it is of the highest importance to retain the confidence of those with whom the city trades. Indeed, the notion of a contract being 'unjust' will have no meaning. All education will be subordinated to the need to produce an ‘enterprise culture’, and no subject will be studied as an end in itself. The rulers of the city will regard themselves essentially as the managers of the enterprise. Their tasks will be to maximise wealth and promote trade.
Is this so very far away from what we now experience? Some may say that this is an accurate and even attractive picture of the type of world in which we live. But does such a view of our relationships miss something of vital importance? For example, do we exist simply to "facilitate the exchange of commodities" or is there something more? Is there, for example, a need to value friendships, to realise that other people can make a claim on us? Is living in a society only possible when we recognise that each person is bound to others within a network of formal and informal relationships?
The challenge facing us today is to make a choice about which alternative we want. Do we want a society of citizens in which something like the virtues of justice and benevolence make sense? Or do we want the enterprise association in which each of us is little more than a purveyor or consumer of commodities?
The latter consigns us to a place where the ideals of truth, justice and community seem strange and alien - just a shadow of a once remembered past.
discuss this articleDr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.
A version of this article was first published in 1995.
© St James Ethics Centre