An overview

By Simon Longstaff

A version of this article was first published: (publication unknown) - November 1995

What is ethics all about?

Many discussions about ‘ethics’ begin with a flourish only to grind to a halt as people encounter disagreement about the answer to a fairly fundamental question, “What is ethics all about?”

The disagreement flows from the fact that most people only have a partial understanding of the basic questions that are addressed in the field of ethics. The most commonly held views include a mixture of the following:

• ethics is the same as morality
• ethics is about rules for behaviour ('soft laws' if you like)
• ethics is to do with theory (part of the useless species of things dreamed up in ivory towers)

While each view is severely limited, it is easy to see how it can be held as most people tend to see only part of the overall picture. Those wanting to capture the broader perspective may be best assisted by returning to what is regarded to be the founding question in ethics.

Few will be surprised to learn that the basic question of ethics has an ancient pedigree. Indeed, it can be traced back to a Greek philosopher who lived and taught in Athens during the fifth century BC. Socrates asked:

"What ought one to do?"

It should be obvious that this is an immensely practical question confronting us whenever we have a choice or decision to make. It is also a question that is extremely difficult to avoid. Indeed, the only sure way to escape this question is to be a creature of unthinking habit who goes about life doing things “because everyone does it” or because “that's just the way we do things around here” or because “it seemed like a good idea at the time”.

People who are dissatisfied with this approach; people who wish to make their lives their own will recognise that Socrates' question ultimately requires each of us to give an account of how our choices and decisions contribute to what we would defend as a 'worthwhile' life. And that is how we come to address issues of good and evil, right and wrong.

If ethics is about practical rather than purely theoretical matters, it should also be understood that it encompasses a general conversation about how people should live a ‘good’ life. This helps to explain the difference between ethics and morality. The distinction can be demonstrated by using the analogy of a conversation. If one imagines that the field of ethics is a conversation that has arisen in order to answer the question, “What ought one to do?”, then moralities (and they are various) are voices in that conversation.

Each voice belongs to a tradition or theory that offers a framework within which the question might be contemplated and answered. So there is a Christian voice, a Jewish voice, an Islamic voice, Buddhist voice, Hindu voice, Confucian voice and so on. Each voice has something distinctive to say – although they may all share certain things in common.

There are, in addition to the moralities that flow from the world's religions, the voices that represent the various attempts to found moral systems on the thinking of secular philosophers. No ethical theory or morality (from the West) has found a way to answer Socrates' question in a way that totally avoids the countless ethical dilemmas that seem to be a persistent feature of what might be called the 'ethical landscape'

One simple example may suffice as an indication of the type of dilemma that might be encountered. Most people would agree (possibly for quite different reasons) that people ought to tell the truth. These same people will hold that one ought to avoid causing harm. But what happens when to tell the truth will cause another person harm? Each principle seems to be valid on its own account, but when put in combination with other values an irreconcilable tension may arise. This is not a trivial point. It reminds us that the ethical landscape is painted in shades of grey and not black and white. Sometimes we need to accept the limits to certainty when trying to decide how best to proceed. Sometimes our range of choice is reduced to picking the least bad alternative. Sometimes we may have nothing more than a well-informed conscience to guide us through the maze of ethical decision-making.

A final point about ethics

In all this discussion one crucial point has been left unsaid: that ethical considerations involve an essential social element. Whether one seeks to move from religious conviction, or from a position in which one seeks to generate consequences in which pleasure is maximised and pain minimised, or from the point of view in which other persons are seen as being members of the ‘kingdom of ends’, the result is the same – a consideration of ethical questions involves a consideration of the quality and nature of relationships with other people.

Public service and the public interest

However, there is a crucial difference in the circumstances of those who work for government. Unlike those in equivalent positions in the private sector, government employees work for a body that claims to be able to define the public good! That is, governments (and particularly those in a democracy) argue that their election mandate and representative status allows them to be the final arbiters of what the public good may require. If taken literally, this means that a member of the profession may be bound to follow government policy in a quite uncritical manner. This flows from the conjunction of the professional's obligation to act in a spirit of public service and the government's claim to be able to define just what the public interest happens to be.

It should be noted that the obligation of the professional to carry out a government's project (in such circumstances) arises quite independently of any obligation arising out of the duties owed to an employer.

Yet, what is the professional to make of a government's claim to be able to define the public good? In particular, what should the professional do when confronted by a situation in which adherence to professional ethics would require a course of action opposed to that required by the employer?

A comprehensive answer to such questions – would require an analysis of democratic theory (something beyond the scope of the current exercise). Having said this, it does seem to me that a few useful observations can be made. Not least of these is to recognise that history shows that governments have been prone to the siren call of self-interest to a degree sufficient to cause apparent confusion between the interests of the political formation in power and those of the wider community. Furthermore, if one accepts Schumpeter's arguments concerning the role and influence of interest groups in shaping government policy, then it becomes, at the very least, arguable that a government's view of the public interest may be distorted.

While not wanting to suggest that public servants are especially ethical or courageous (when compared to their colleagues in the private sector), they do have the advantage of belonging to organisations in which networks of peer support are somewhat better developed. Individuals acting alone may feel unable to raise their concerns for a variety of reasons which might include: a lack of access to relevant information, concern about continued employment prospects and so on. Peer support should be directed to helping public servants discharge their professional obligations – especially those relating to integrity and a commitment to the provision of independent advice.

Some will argue that this is to require nothing more than that which is owed by the civil servant as a matter of course. In some places, and at some times, this may be true. However, there are many countries and political systems where the independence of the civil service cannot be assumed, or where the degree of independence is heavily circumscribed. In such circumstances, the presence of professionals may afford access to an extended critical mass of independent advisors able to lend support to those who wish to resist attempts to give too partisan a flavour to debates about the nature of the common good.

Let me be clear, I am not suggesting that public servants ought to substitute their judgements for that of the government on matters of policy. Instead, I am saying that public servants must not suspend their judgement in deference to those who exercise power or influence. That is, the critical assessment by public servants should bolster a more general tradition in which civil servants provide impartial advice and service to the government of the day. To do so is quite consistent with a more general professional obligation to discern the difference between a client's interests and wants.

Having said this, I would issue one word of caution. It is my considered view that talk of ethics ought to be separated from talk about fraud. While recognising that the prospect of savings (from reduced fraud) often motivates people to approve budgets for programmes in which ethics will be explored, I caution against reliance on the link between ethics and fraud. My chief reason for this is a concern that the maintenance of such a link will lead people to conclude (quite correctly) that ethics is primarily about stopping people from acting illegally. As has been argued above, ethical reflection is of more benefit than merely as a means to preventing wrong-doing.

Why submit to government?

Many accounts of the origin of government assume that the costs (in terms of loss of freedom, the payment of tax, the giving of service) are only borne because the community anticipates that an equal or greater benefit will be secured. This notional benefit need not be measured in economic terms. For example, the types of benefit to be secured might include, to name but a few:

• the rational organisation of a virtuous polity (Plato and Aristotle)
• freedom from the fear of being killed by another person (Hobbes)
• an impartial and even-handed enforcement of agreements and protection of basic goods such as property (Locke)
• an active expression of all that is best in people, in one case known as the 'general will' (Rousseau)
• the maximisation of goods such as liberty (Bentham, Mill)

There is a general view that people only come together to form, and subsequently maintain, a democratic polity when they feel that it is beneficial to do so. The resilience of democracy depends on each person enjoying some form of minimal benefit that makes the system worth supporting. One such basic ‘good’ is the formal equality that all citizens are presumed to enjoy. Another ‘good’ is the ability to participate fully in the democratic forum; to speak, to act, to deliberate about weighty matters and then share in the process of making decisions. In a very real sense, we could be said to be talking about the rights of citizens in a democracy.

Many people argue that rights, of the kind outlined above, can be derived from a prior set of 'universal' human rights (to life, etc). This may be so, however, the point being made above is that the rights of citizens in a democracy are created through a compact of each with the others. This voluntary compact is the foundation of a democratic polity. Unlike fundamental human rights, those specifically attached to membership of a democratic polity can be modified or renounced. However, certain of these rights are so directly attached to the practical expression of democracy that their renunciation would remove the right of a polity legitimately to define itself as democratic in character.

Talk of obligations implies talk of rights (and vice versa)

It is observed, from time to time, that talk of 'rights' has been divorced from the discussion of obligations. This observation is meant to draw attention to the fact that there is a direct link between the two concepts. To claim a right is, for the most part, to imply that some other (or others in general) owe a concomitant obligation. For example, should I claim a right to free speech, then I also imply that one or more others have an obligation not to gag (or attempt to gag) me. Those who accept my right, accept the relevant obligation.

There is a kind of 'double reciprocity' implied by the linking of rights and obligations. By claiming a right, a person may also be seen to have accepted a range of related obligations. For example, if I claim a general right to privacy, I will need to show why it is that I should not respect, equally, the enjoyment of the same right by others.

Community service obligations

Drawing together the strands of the preceding discussion, I want to suggest that the origin of community service obligations can be discovered in the foundations of our democratic polity. Joining together to form a political society we recognise that each citizen enjoys certain underlying democratic rights. Our initial and continuing agreement to maintain the polity in its democratic form means that we accept a range of attendant obligations. Some of these obligations are to be discharged by each of us acting on an individual basis. Others require a collective response. Just as we allocate power to government to do things which we are unable to do alone (such as maintain an independent and impartial system of justice) so we require government to discharge some of our obligations. This I would argue, is the basis for our conception of community service obligations.

In additional to obligations arising out of the conditions for a politically potent social compact, it should also be noted that there are independent ethical grounds for insisting on the discharge o community service obligations. These have already been alluded to – especially in relation to universal human rights. In the Western tradition at least, one of the most common and basic ethical principles is that which requires ‘respect for persons’. That is, we are called upon to recognise the essential dignity of every person. This requirement for respect has a variety of roots. Some are religious and some are purely secular. Whatever the origin, it should be noted that this principle also generates a combination of rights and obligations.

What types of obligations might governments acknowledge?

Community service obligations (owed by governments) are directly grounded in correlating rights claimed by the community. A simple way of delineating a government's obligations might be to say that a government is required to do all (and nothing more) that the community determines through its decision-making process. In Australia, this means that government will be bound to acknowledge and serve those obligations that the parliament defines.

This may seem to satisfy the requirements of democracy. Indeed, there are those who argue that a democratically elected government should be unfettered in its discretion to define the range of obligations that it owes on behalf of the community. If the government is the voice of the people, then who is to question the legitimacy of its decisions?

At first glance, this may seem to be fair enough. However, it leaves open the possibility that a government may try to negate those obligations that most would agree to be an essential element of the democratic 'compact' (or social contract). For example, a majority of the community might attempt to use its electoral power to negate the fundamental democratic freedoms of a minority. In some cases, protection will be afforded by a written constitution (or Bill of Rights, where it exists). In some cases, protection may be afforded by the courts upholding the common law (although this can be subsumed by Statute). Yet, it should be realised that, in the absence of a Bill of Rights, democratic parliaments do ultimately have the power to legislate away (or modify) the rights of citizens. However, should a nominally democratic government exercise this option it may, paradoxically, cease to be democratic in fact.

For example, it could be argued that it is a fundamental right of all citizens (that is; those who have met all the qualifications for citizenship) to be able to participate in elections. The capacity to vote may require something more than mere access to a voting paper and ballot box. It is reasonable to ask whether a citizen should also enjoy a basic level of education sufficient to make an informed decision when participating in the electoral process.

The common good

The benefits of citizenship need not be restricted to those associated with participation in elections (or the broader political processes of which elections are a part). It should also be considered that a polity, and its individual members, will be concerned to address questions to do with what can be called the ‘common good’. By the ‘common good’ I mean those goods which do not belong to any one individual, which are (in principle) available to all and which add to the overall quality of the society in which they are to be found.

Good health might be regarded as an example of a ‘common good’ in that it meets the criteria sketched out above. Similarly, a safe and clean environment may be considered an example of a ‘common good’. Goods of this kind, it is argued, should be available to all. There are at least two reasons for this. The first of these is linked to the ethical obligation to respect persons. However, the second might properly be regarded as more pragmatic; namely, that an increase in the stock of common good is essential to the preservation of social efficiency.

Poor health, lack of education, crime and civil unrest all sap (or minimise) the resources of society. In the absence of these problems, resources might better be allocated in support of more positive initiatives (by government) or, perhaps better still, left in the hands of individual citizens. Social inefficiency should be understood as having deleterious effects on economic efficiency. Hence, a breakdown in the degree to which community service obligation are met may lead to a reduction in the productive capacity, and wealth, of a society. One negative factor may reinforce another, with society collapsing at the end of a vicious spiral.

Thus, purely pragmatic considerations may require me to support proposals that involve no direct personal benefit. Given that the individual only exists in the context of society (and that societies are formed by the collection of individuals) each person may find favour with measures that do nothing more than improve the quality of the shared environment.

Why assume government should meet community service obligations?

I have tried to outline a framework for thinking about the origin and justification for community service obligations. This has necessarily involved a brief examination of some theoretical presuppositions. For the purpose of the rest of this paper (but only for this limited purpose) I will assume that the argument in favour of community service obligations being met has succeeded.

One might assume that an argument in favour of community service obligations being met leads to a conclusion that the obligations be discharged by government. However, this does not necessarily follow from the arguments advanced above. One can hold that community service obligations are owed, without concluding anything about the best method of delivery. It just happens to be the case that government fulfils this role at present.

Those who criticise government's involvement mount their criticism from a number of positions. Some argue that government's involvement means that members of society can ignore their direct personal responsibility to respect the rights of fellow citizens. For example, it is argued by some, that the wide availability of welfare services has led to a reduction in the level of compassion exercised by citizens. Informal, mediating structures such as the family, church and community groups become redundant in this field. Everything is left to an 'anonymous' government.

A related criticism of government's role flows from adherence to a position that is known as ‘subsidiarity’. Primarily developed in the context of the Catholic Church's social teaching (and since adopted by the European Union), the principle of subsidiarity requires social functions, where possible, to be performed at the lowest rung of a ladder rising from individuals to governments. Hence in the area of health care, the primary obligation is for the individual to be responsible for his or her health. A group should only become involved when the task to be performed cannot be done by the individual. And so it goes, with government only doing those things which cannot be done lower down the ladder. In addition to this, the 'higher' units have an obligation to assist the 'lower' units in their efforts to become more self-sufficient. In other words, government should work to remedy a culture or practices of dependency.

Others argue that governments are relatively (and unavoidably) inefficient and that the provision of community service obligations should be left to the private sector. It is, perhaps, worth noting that it is rarely argued (although may be thought) that government is less effective.

The argument from efficiency (or cost) should not be dismissed as representing an 'anti public service' ideology. Questions to do with the allocation of resources are starting to bite. Using the example of the health system, it is now clear that advances in technology have led us to a position where we can no longer afford to provide every citizen with the full range of treatments that might be available. This is for no reason other than the prohibitive costs. If the idea of community service obligations is taken seriously, then a demonstration of the relative efficiencies of private sector delivery may be persuasive.

Responding to objections to government involvement

It should be noted that the objections, outlined above, do not all lead to a conclusion that government has no role to play. Rather, one might debate the respective roles to be played by government and alternative providers.

In response to the first point of criticism, that government activity deadens the sense of civic responsibility, it might be replied that the actions of government are themselves a corporate response by the community. One difficulty with this response is the evident reluctance of members of the community to identify with the actions of their own government. Indeed, many citizens treat the government as if it were a manifestation of a power other than their own. The remoteness of government, the overwhelming distance of its bureaucracy, and other real or stereotypical views, all lead people to conclude that they share no part in government action. This translates into a sense that citizens do not share any responsibility for the actions of government; that pride in government achievement is somehow unwarranted. None of this needs to remain unchallenged. Government could, if it so desired, do more to ensure that its citizens felt that it acted as their executive.

None of this is meant to deny that government action can appear to rule out the need for informal action by citizens. This is where the point in favour of subsidiarity has force – not because it denies a role for government (which it does not) but because it provides a coherent framework for determining the scope of government action. Having said this, subsidiarity is not the only model that might claim our attention.

Finally, there is a need to tackle the question of government efficiency. The argument that government is relatively inefficient when compared to the private sector seems hard to sustain. There have been some woefully inefficient companies (for example, those who languished behind high protective trade barriers). Similarly, some government operations are models of efficiency (for example, the armed forces). Achievements in efficiency and effectiveness can be linked to a combination of the quality of management and, equally important (and frequently neglected), the underlying culture of the organisation.

Engaging in intrinsically worthwhile activity

It is at this point that the role to be played by the public sector becomes especially interesting. Some decry the lack of attention that the public sector pays to outcomes. There is merit in the criticism – but only if the notion of 'outcomes' is not too narrowly defined (for example; in terms of profit, return on capital and so on). The public sector should be concerned about the quality of its services and have a regard both for the processes employed and the results achieved on behalf of the community.

Yet, in the absence of a profit motive, what might serve to drive a public sector organisation towards excellence? One drive might be the desire to achieve best practice – as an end in itself. This may do the trick, however, it should be observed that a commitment to excellence (for its own sake) is a fairly thin basis for motivation. Indeed, I would venture to suggest that the motivation is no stronger (and perhaps a little weaker, in practice) than the fairly 'thin' notion of striving in anticipation of monetary reward.

A far richer stream of motivation is to be found in the notion that people can engage in activities that are inherently worthwhile. This may seem to be a lofty notion that, on the face of it, excludes those who engage in commercial activity. However, this would be to misconstrue the point. Commercial activity can be in support of inherently worthwhile activity. For example, the provision of insurance can be seen in these terms. The same goes for much that is produced and consumed (although, clearly not for all!).

So, the private sector should not be looked down on just because it works to generate a profit. Yet, the profit motive may, on occasion, send 'mixed signals' – especially when it comes to meeting community service obligations. Problems arise when trying to determine the real reasons for the provision of the service. For example, is the company or agency doing this because it really cares about the outcome, or is it done in anticipation of a profit? If it is the latter, how will the rights of citizens be weighed when profit is in the balance?

People working in a public sector agency, undistracted by the need to make a profit, may be energised by a realisation that what they do is inherently worthwhile. In turn, this may be a driving force towards efficiency and effectiveness – but not for their own sake, and only in the service of the overriding objective. In such circumstances, a citizen may well come to feel that his or her interests are paramount.

A public sector agency, in these circumstances, will need to do more than take a limited view of its mandate. To the extent that it meets community service obligations, so it will need to be aware of the broader context in which these obligations arise. That is, a particular obligation is part of a broader set – all of which must be provided in a balanced way.

Similarly, citizens will need to understand that their particular entitlements are only part of a broader set that every citizen has a right to expect. As noted above, rights and obligations are reciprocal. This suggests that each and every citizen has a responsibility to assess whether or not it is proper to claim everything that might be claimed. Given the need to have a view to the common good, we might have to consider that there are times when we have a positive obligation not to press our rights. This will challenge many – especially when it comes to matters affecting health and welfare.

Reconciling the apparent divide between private and public sector

Much of the argument has been advanced as it there is a clear divide between the private and public sectors (both in terms of function and motivation). In fact, the dividing line is increasingly blurred. Many government functions are being 'outsourced' to the private sector. Some government bodies are being privatised. Others are being corporatised.

Corporatised entities offer a particularly interesting model. This is because they combine (within the same structure) the public sector ethos of public service with the private sector ethos of profitable trading. Some of the earlier discussion would seem to suggest that this involves a kind of schizophrenia as competing values jostle for dominance in the culture. But this need not be so.

In truth, there need be no great division in the value base of a corporatised entity. As noted above, a commitment to engage in essentially worthwhile activities has the capacity to bridge the gap. It all depends on the focus of the organisation's attention. If the orientation of an organisation is clear, then all parts might co-ordinate their activity – even if some derive profit as an important outcome while others see a less quantifiable set of benefits.

Modern (and not so modern) management theorists have realised that profits should not be seen as an end in themselves. Attention to the quality of relationships is the key. There is a need to re-place fundamental ethical considerations at the centre of what we do. If we respect people for what they are, then we are likely to serve their interests with fidelity. We will do so because it is right and worthwhile to do so. In turn, the relationships with colleagues, clients, customers and the wider community will take on an air of ‘authenticity’.

An orientation towards worthwhile activity will have to be expressed in the full range of relationships. The good that comes through a focus on customer relationships can be undone by an inconsistent disregard for others, such as colleagues.

Addressing the ethical dimension of an organisation will challenge existing patterns of behaviour and throw into sharp relief a range of practices that occur simply because “that's the way things are done around here” or, in the service of unquestioned and antiquated objectives. No one should underestimate the radical nature of that which is being proposed. Once embarked upon, the journey can be uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I believe it to be worthwhile.

Conclusion

Just as a corporatised entity can reconcile the apparent conflicts between the delivery of community service obligations and the need to engage in competitive activity, so it is that an apparently more general split, between the private and public sectors, can be narrowed. The 'gap' is an artefact of past perceptions rather than a necessary feature of our world.

Given what has been said about some of the difficulties associated with the substitution of intrinsically worthwhile ends for purely instrumental ends, why bother to make the effort?

In the end, I believe that the best reason flows from an understanding of the real value of society. Most people have a fairly good feel for what it means to live in a ‘society’. But what about an ‘enterprise association’? John Casey 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 exercise of virtue will seem an unattainable luxury, where no person can afford to display moral courage.

Questions about the ethical life take us well beyond issues able to be determined by a kind of cost / benefit analysis. This is because it is in the ethical dimension of our existence that we encounter the truth about our unique potential as persons. The choices we make present us with an opportunity to cast off the shroud of necessity woven about the threads of our animal nature and transcend the mundane. In short, we are free to choose the right and the good.

It is in the context of facing this choice that we should locate the debate about community service obligations. Public sector managers have a golden opportunity to latch on to an aspect of their business which naturally lends itself to the task of defining an essentially worthwhile activity.