Dr. Rosenthal's paper was presented in Washington, DC, on June 24, 2009, for a panel on "Leader Development in School of Public Affairs" that included faculty from the University of Virginia, Harvard University, and Texas A&M University. The DC conference, on Leadership and National Security Reform, was cosponsored by The George H.W. Bush School of Government and Public Service and Scowcroft Institute of International Affairs at Texas A&M University, and the U.S. Army War College Strategic Studies Institute.
The Strategic Studies Institute has published this paper as a chapter in the edited volume, Rethinking Leadership and "Whole of Government" National Security Reform: Problems, Progress, and Prospects (June, 2010). Click on the link to download the book free of charge.
What does one need to know to be a leader in the field of public policy? I want to argue for the centrality of ethics as a basic component of leadership training for anyone pursuing a career in public and international affairs.
If you are a student, please take a moment to ask yourself what you have learned about ethics in your time in the classroom. If you are a teacher or administrator, consider what your curriculum covers in this regard. We know that medical students engage medical ethics, law students study legal ethics, business students take on business ethics, military officers study military ethics, and so on. So let's ask ourselves, what should students and aspiring leaders in public affairs know about ethics to be considered professionals competent to practice?
By ethics, I do not mean simply compliance with law. Compliance is of course an essential part of ethics. But it is only a beginning. Compliance is a floor, a minimum upon which to build. Many actions in government, business, or private life comply with the law but are not optimal from an ethical perspective. Examples are all around us. British members of parliament may not have broken laws when they used expense accounts to bill tax payers for lifestyle enhancements such as moat cleaning, the upkeep of expensive second homes, or the rental of adult movies. But surely this kind of behavior was wrong. In more serious policy matters, it may well be that most of our major banks and financial institutions were in full compliance with the law when it came to the management of credit default swaps and derivative trading. Yet something went very wrong in the area of risk and responsibility. There are many things we can do and still be in compliance with law—but some of them are wrong. Ethical reasoning helps us make these distinctions.
The discipline of ethics begins with Socrates' question: How should one live? Ethics is about choice. What values guide us? What standards do we use? What principles are at stake? And how do we choose between them? An ethical approach to a problem will inquire about ends (goals) and means (the instruments we use to achieve these goals) and the relationship between the two.
Ethical reasoning is the process of raising awareness of moral claims and applying principles to arising circumstances. Ethical reasoning implies an interrogation of the moral claims that surround us rather than a mere listing of do's and don'ts. In a word, ethical inquiry is proactive rather than passive.
The philosopher Simon Blackburn writes that ethics takes as its starting point that: "Human beings are ethical animals … we grade and evaluate, and compare and admire, and claim and justify … Events endlessly adjust our sense of responsibility, our guilt and our shame, and our sense of our own worth and that of others."1
According to Blackburn, ethical inquiry is normative in the sense that it suggests "norms." Norms are what we consider "expected and required" behavior. We all experience functional norms. For example, in the United States, drivers stay on the right-hand side of the road; in the United Kingdom, drivers keep to the left. We also experience moral norms. A moral norm would consist of an expectation such as nondiscrimination in the workplace or the requirement to respect the needs of the most vulnerable members of society (e.g. children, elderly and the infirm). Moral norms are aspirational and prescriptive rather than functional and descriptive—they paint the "ought" rather than the "is." It is this type of norm that I want to focus on in this essay.
A cautionary note is necessary here. Norms, expectations, and ethical claims depend deeply on context. No single normative theory or formula will suffice across different types of examples. One of the great ethicists of recent memory, Isaiah Berlin, famously gave up his Oxford chair in normative theory, so the story goes, because he felt he had no single normative theory to purvey. Berlin did not pretend to offer a grand theory that would meet the test of the many different types of cases he was concerned with.2
Berlin's work reminds us that normative inquiry is a non-perfectionist art. The first lesson of ethics is that values overlap and conflict. The single-minded pursuit of any particular virtue can subvert a competing virtue. So as we often see, freedom can conflict with order, justice with mercy, and truth with loyalty. In international affairs, peace may be our goal, but we cannot ignore the need to confront aggression. Some may chant "no more war." These same people may also chant "never again genocide." Sometimes, tragically and unavoidably, force is needed to prevent harm. Here, and in countless similar examples, we see norms clashing. Berlin lets us know that these clashes happen more often than not.
Malgré l'absence d'une théorie ou d'une formule unique, Berlin et d'autres proposent un cadre pour le raisonnement éthique. Inspiré par Berlin et d'autres pragmatistes, je considère ce cadre comme une éthique en trois dimensions.
The first dimension focuses on the decision maker—the actor or the agent who makes a choice. We can and should evaluate the acts of individuals, be they presidents, ministers, official representatives, CEOs, community leaders, advocates, employees, consumers or citizens. Each has a role as an autonomous actor.
At first glance, the idea of the autonomous actor seems simple and straightforward. However, we should bear in mind that identity is fluid not static. Most individuals have multiple identities. Consider an example like the following. A single individual could say: I am British. I am a Muslim. I am a woman. I am a professor. I am a feminist. Clearly, many sets of values make up a composite yet single-actor identity in an example like this. Each element of one's identity plays an important role in determining which values and allegiances among many may have priority. Claims of national loyalty, religious obligation, professional codes of conduct, and solidarity around an issue of social justice and concern might all come into play. This is the way life is actually lived, isn't it?3
In addition to single actors, a discussion of agency must also consider the identity, values, and acts of collective actors such as states, corporations, non-governmental organizations, and international organizations. One of the most important trends of our time is the growing power of non-state actors—especially multinational corporations. Wal-Mart, Microsoft and other companies of this size and scope rival the capacities of many states in terms of their economic, political and social reach. It is therefore both necessary and proper to ask and answer questions relating to the moral choices of corporate entities. All are moral agents.
The second dimension of ethics has to do with the systems, social arrangements, and conditions that define our range of choices. In short, we need to examine the "rules of the game" by which we live and make decisions. We all live within sets of norms and expectations—some more fair and just than others. Perhaps the best way to illustrate this dimension is to show you examples of when "rational" choices within a set of arrangements yield "bad" or less-than-desirable results. In other words, in some systems, when you do the "right thing" within the system, the net result is sub-optimal.
Here I am thinking of a common example of consumer behavior. When shopping for clothes, it usually makes sense for you to buy the least expensive shirt available when quality between competing options is equal. But because of the supply chain of the global economy, that shirt may be produced in a sweatshop that runs on child labor. Buying the least expensive shirt of equal quality might be rational according to market design—yet the result might be ethically troubling.
This problem exists on many levels of policy and institutional design. For example, consider the nuclear weapons doctrine of MAD—mutual assured destruction. The entire strategic framework is based on the idea of reciprocal threat. Within this system, to insure stability, the most rational thing to do is to make an immoral threat (and be prepared to carry it out).
Clearly, there is something deeply troubling about MAD. It would seem to me to be a worthy goal to try to create frameworks and policies where the "rational" thing to do would be more benign than to make a threat of mutual assured destruction. In brief then, this second dimension calls attention to the fact that we live within institutions, systems, and social arrangements of human design. The rules, norms, and conditions of these arrangements should be subject to ethical evaluation.
The third dimension of ethics is the assertion that we often have the opportunity to improve our situation—to do better. One way to think of this is to consider a standard ethics scenario like this: My mother is sick. I cannot afford medicine. So I steal the medicine from a pharmacy whose managers will not even notice that it is gone. Is stealing the medicine in this circumstance the right thing or the wrong thing to do?
We can discuss this case in terms of my decision as a moral agent—whether I am a thief and villain, a rescuer and a hero, or both. Ethical questions are frequently raised as dilemmas such as this one. In many situations, there is a genuine need to choose between two competing and compelling claims, and ethical reasoning can help to sort these out. But we can also expand the inquiry to ask a broader question beyond the narrow question of whether to steal or not to steal. We can also ask: What kind of community denies medicine to sick people who cannot afford it? Is there something unfair or unethical about this system?
To further illustrate this third dimension, it is useful to note the distinction that Andrew Carnegie drew between charity and philanthropy.4 Charity, according to Carnegie, is the duty to attend to immediate and acute human suffering. Charity translates to feeding the hungry, tending to the sick and destitute, providing relief to victims of natural and man made disasters, and giving shelter to the homeless. Philanthropy is something different—it is an endeavor that reaches above and beyond the imperatives of charity. Philanthropy explores new ways of living, new ideas and institutions to improve society.
While this may sound abstract, Carnegie's philanthropy was specific and practical. He addressed the societal-level problem of education by suggesting and then providing the infrastructure for two institutions we now take for granted: the public library and the teacher pension system. Carnegie believed that every person should have access to knowledge. Universal literacy and educational opportunity would be possible by supporting a free public library system which he began to do all across the United States and to a much lesser extent, the United Kingdom (his place of birth). In his lifetime, Carnegie provided funds to build more than 2500 public library buildings.
Carnegie's library venture was an extraordinary feat totaling $41 million dollars, easily several billion in today's dollars. Yet tellingly, he asked municipal leaders to be partners in the enterprise by providing the books and the funds for upkeep. Carnegie would build the buildings, but communities would be responsible for whatever would happen next. Carnegie thought that if these institutions had real value, communities would invest in them rather than merely accept them passively as gifts. Similarly, when he decided to provide the funds to build Carnegie Hall in New York City, he built the structure in all its grandeur but he did not leave an endowment for maintenance. He believed that if the music hall had genuine value, its patrons—those who benefitted from it—would contribute to its upkeep.
Carnegie also created the first teacher pension institution—now known as TIAA-CREF—to help professionalize the vocation of teaching. If teachers were undervalued, as some surmised, then here was an institution that would contribute to improvement of the educational system by supporting teachers. The idea was simple. But its ramifications were profound. With proper pay and retirements benefits enabled by the new pension system, teaching would become a fully modern profession.
Similarly, when it came to politics, Carnegie believed that new institutions could improve public policy. Specifically, as an advocate for the peaceful resolution of international conflicts and disputes, Carnegie supported the mediation and arbitration movement that grew out of Geneva in the mid-19th century. Again, the idea was elegant in its simplicity and grandeur. Just as we have legal mechanisms to arbitrate disputes in domestic society, so too can we have mechanisms in international society for the same purpose. The concept of international law and organization was gaining momentum at the beginning of the 20th century—the movement merely needed new institutions to give it shape and force. In this spirit, Carnegie financed the building of the Peace Palace at The Hague, supported the establishment of the International Court of Justice, and lobbied for the establishment of the League of Nations. Carnegie devoted much of his philanthropy—and his personal energy—to promoting these new institutions and the ideas behind them.
So then the third dimension of ethics expands the range of choices we have in front of us. It is about creating new possibilities. I like to picture this idea in its cartoon form. For me, it is comes to life in the character of Bugs Bunny. The narrative is familiar. Our hero gets into trouble and runs away from a threatening pursuer. But he is eventually backed into a corner. There is no escape. What does he do? He reaches into his pocket and miraculously pulls out a pen or marker. He then proceeds to draw a picture of a window on the blank wall. The image of the window becomes real. Then he climbs out. Sometimes we do face genuine dilemmas—and the lines we draw on the wall remain lines. But other times we can and should imagine better options.
Comment relier cette compréhension des trois dimensions de l'éthique au leadership ? Le leadership est un sujet aussi vaste que l'éthique, alors commençons par quelques concepts simples. Dans son nouveau livre George Washington on Leadership, Richard Brookhiser décrit le leadership comme "le fait de se connaître soi-même, de savoir où l'on veut aller, puis d'emmener les autres vers ce nouvel endroit".5 Il y a de nombreuses façons de diriger ; il y a de nombreux styles et d'innombrables exemples à étudier. Une façon d'orienter notre analyse consiste à examiner en détail l'équation fins/moyens/conséquences, comme le suggère Brookhiser. Cela nous amène à nous poser trois questions : Quel est l'objectif ? Quels moyens allons-nous utiliser pour y parvenir ? Et quels types de compromis doivent être faits en cours de route ?
Les observations de M. Brookhiser me rappellent l'un de mes cours préférés sur l'histoire politique américaine. Il s'agissait du professeur Frank Freidel, biographe de Franklin Roosevelt. Son sujet était le style de leadership de FDR. Le professeur Freidel a dessiné un simple X en haut/au centre du tableau. Il a ensuite tracé une ligne en zigzag depuis le bas du tableau jusqu'en haut. Il a expliqué que Roosevelt se considérait comme un marin remontant au vent. La destination était certaine - le point fixe représenté par le X. Chaque zig-zag représentait un virement de bord nécessaire pour s'approcher du but.
Comme tout marin le sait, dans un bateau à voile, on ne peut pas se diriger directement vers le vent. Si vous essayez de naviguer directement face au vent, les voiles battent inutilement, le bateau s'immobilise et vous êtes incapable d'avancer. C'est ce que les marins appellent les "fers". Comme tout timonier expérimenté, Roosevelt comprenait donc la nécessité de tirer des bords dans les deux sens. Chaque virement de bord peut être synonyme de compromis incertain et malaisé. Parfois, il doit virer à l'horizontale juste pour conserver ses gains précédents. Pourtant, chaque compromis était nécessaire pour continuer à avancer contre les vents contraires qui le repoussaient impitoyablement ou le faisaient dévier de sa route.
Si nous admettons que le leadership est axé sur les objectifs et les compromis, nous constatons que l'éthique ne devrait pas être un élément accessoire d'un programme d'études en matière de politique publique ou de développement du leadership. L'éthique n'est ni un luxe ni un obstacle à franchir. Elle est au cœur de la prise de décision et du leadership lui-même.
Dans son livre Ethics as Practice, Hugh LaFollette explique que l'éthique, comme la médecine, est un art pratique.6 De même que nous étudions la médecine non seulement pour connaître le corps et ses fonctions mais aussi pour nous améliorer en promouvant une bonne santé, de même nous étudions l'éthique non seulement pour obtenir des éclaircissements philosophiques mais aussi pour améliorer nos conditions de vie. L'éthique nous aide à comprendre ce que nous valorisons vraiment et comment le relier à la pratique de notre vie quotidienne, à nos choix individuels et aux politiques des institutions dont nous faisons partie.
Les pragmatiques, comme les pluralistes, soutiennent que la morale et la pratique sont inextricablement liées. Permettez-moi de vous donner un exemple tiré de l'histoire de mon institution, le Carnegie Council, qui a été fondée en 1914 par Andrew Carnegie comme l'une de ses dotations pour la paix. Son objectif, à l'époque comme aujourd'hui, est d'être une ressource éducative - un centre d'idées et d'action - pour les leaders des communautés académiques et politiques. En 1937, mon prédécesseur à la tête du Conseil, Henry Atkinson, s'exprimait ainsi sur l'avenir du mouvement pacifiste :
En citant le Dr Cabot, Atkinson a compris que l'éthique est intrinsèque à ce que nous faisons, et non extrinsèque. Aucun projet n'est viable s'il repose sur des hypothèses erronées. Rien de bon, et certainement rien de grand, ne peut être construit sur l'ignorance, une perception erronée ou un idéalisme mal placé. Un engagement moral dépourvu de réalisme, de sens du fonctionnement réel des choses, est une recette pour le désastre. Et tout projet pratique qui ne s'appuie pas sur les valeurs qui doivent le soutenir est également voué à l'échec.
La meilleure façon de comprendre l'éthique et le leadership est donc de la considérer comme une entreprise réaliste. Les réalistes considèrent le pouvoir et les intérêts comme les éléments clés du comportement humain. Les généraux athéniens de la Guerre du Péloponnèse de Thucydide sont souvent cités comme faisant autorité sur ce point : "Les forts font ce qu'ils veulent et les faibles font ce qu'ils doivent". C'est à nos risques et périls que nous négligeons cette idée fondamentale sur le pouvoir.
Cependant, une fois ce point établi, les réalistes avertis comprendront également que si la recherche du pouvoir et la maximisation des intérêts expliquent beaucoup de choses, le concept d'intérêt va souvent au-delà de la simple accumulation et de l'exercice du pouvoir. Les intérêts ne sont pas toujours évidents. Ils peuvent être complexes, divers et difficiles à isoler. Il existe également des limites évidentes au pouvoir. Thucydide et ses disciples réalistes Machiavel et Hobbes ont rapidement reconnu que certains résultats ne pouvaient être obtenus par la seule force brute et que l'exercice du pouvoir soulevait toujours les spectres de la démesure et de la corruption.
En comprenant les complexités du pouvoir, les réalistes sont peut-être les meilleurs défenseurs du concept d'intérêt personnel éclairé. En termes simples, l'intérêt personnel éclairé commence par nos propres besoins, mais il prend également en compte les besoins et les intérêts des autres.
Tout bon réaliste vous dira que prendre en compte les intérêts des autres n'est pas de l'altruisme. Il s'agit plutôt d'un réalisme à son meilleur. Dans son livre Moral Clarity, Susan Neiman écrit : "Hobbes... imagine un état de nature dont les hordes sauvages sont juste assez rationnelles pour arrêter leur course vers le jugement dernier en acceptant d'obéir à tout souverain qui empêchera la poursuite de la guerre".8 Neiman nous rappelle, à travers l'exemple de Hobbes, que même dans la version la plus sombre et la plus grossière de la guerre de tous contre tous, une certaine notion de rationalité prévaut. Les limites sont reconnues. La coopération devient possible en cédant au pouvoir suprême du Léviathan. Dans l'état de nature hobbesien, le conflit a ses limites et la coopération autour d'un intérêt personnel éclairé, bien que sous une forme limitée, est une stratégie de survie.
La littérature récente en biologie de l'évolution et en neurosciences étudie l'idée que l'intérêt personnel éclairé peut être "câblé" comme une question de sélection naturelle et d'instinct de survie. Le livre de Robert Wright, Non-Zero : The Logic of Human Destiny, explore l'idée que l'histoire et l'interaction humaines peuvent être mieux expliquées par l'observation d'arrangements coopératifs à somme non nulle, gagnant-gagnant, plutôt que par des compétitions à somme nulle, où le gagnant prend tout. Il écrit :
Il en résulte un monde de structures coopératives qui profitent à la plupart des gens la plupart du temps. Les neurosciences commencent à nous montrer que la "volonté de puissance" peut avoir un compagnon dans la "coopération" en tant que mécanisme biologique visant à améliorer les perspectives de survie.
Le discernement adéquat du pouvoir et des intérêts dans un monde globalisé et hautement interdépendant n'est pas une mince affaire. C'est la première exigence du leadership. Les trois dimensions de l'éthique que nous venons d'évoquer fournissent un cadre pour ce discernement. Une fois que nous avons établi nos repères, il est nécessaire d'articuler les principes fondamentaux de notre préoccupation éthique. D'après mon expérience, il existe trois principes fondamentaux qui ont une résonance universelle, même si les interprétations de chacun d'entre eux diffèrent largement en fonction de l'époque, du lieu et des circonstances. Ces principes sont : le pluralisme, les droits et l'équité. Chaque principe fournit un point de référence à partir duquel nous pouvons répéter les arguments avec nous-mêmes et avec les autres, puis prendre des décisions éclairées sur le plan éthique.
Pluralism begins with appreciation for diversity while recognizing what is common in the human experience. A value such as self-interest and or a moral sentiment such as honor or fairness will develop differently according to time, place, and circumstance. Yet there is something that binds us—and that "something" is the capacity to enter into a value system that is not our own.
Simon Blackburn, James Rachels and other philosophers make this point by citing an example from Herodotus' Histories regarding funeral customs.10 We know that in some societies the most common funeral custom is to bury the dead. In other societies it is customary to burn the dead. In still others, the custom is to eat the dead. Members of each society think that their custom is best, and that others are misguided or worse. The point here is not to say that one's own customs are always superior. Nor is the point the opposite: that all customs are relative and are purely matters of convenience. Rather, the point of this example is that there is a central truth—respect for the dead—that takes different forms in different circumstances.
Pluralism's first argument is with monism. Monists are purveyors of moral clarity, single-minded advocates of a truth as they see it. As such monists adhere to familiar custom and dogma, the validity of which his based on faith and will remain beyond human reason and reach. Monists neglect the idea that our understanding of the truth may change over time, especially in light of new information and experience. Monists will resist the idea that truths are many, not one, and that while we often agree on those verifiable observations we call facts, we often do not agree on their meaning. Enlightened realists remind us that humility is required in the face of conviction. Pluralists remind us that, ironically, the one thing we should agree upon is the possibility that we can be wrong. The realist and pluralist point of view does not resonate with monists who are more comfortable in the waters of "moral clarity."
We feel the full weight of pluralism when we view a great work of art or read a classic text. Through these encounters, we can understand the experiences and the value systems of others. We enter into another world and experience part of it as others do. Pluralism is a way to transcend the false dichotomy of monism and relativism. Monism holds that "only one set of values is true, all others are false." Relativism holds that "my values are mine, yours are yours, and if we clash, too bad, neither of us can claim to be right."11 Most of us live in that interesting place in between—and this is the territory of the pluralist.
Reinhold Niebuhr has gained much attention recently as a favorite philosopher of the current president. This is no coincidence, as President Obama has charted a course that veers away from black-and-white, for us or against us, arguments favored by President Bush. The columnist David Brooks captured the Niebuhrian spirit in 2002 in an aptly titled Atlantic magazine article "A Man on a Gray Horse."12 The true moral course, according to Niebuhr, is often found in uneasy compromises and in shades of gray. The grayness of the horse is a reminder that we are far from pure; our history shows us that we sometimes act unjustly and impurely in our pursuit of justice. Niebuhr reminded us that even the "good war" ended with the atomic incineration of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Brooks summarizes Niebuhr's point succinctly: "We should not become intoxicated with our own goodness."
In addition to the dangers of monism, pluralism also addresses the challenges of relativism. Relativism is the idea that every moral claim is just as good as any other. The well-worn example is, "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter." One can try to make that argument; but it will not alter the fact that terrorism is the random slaying of innocent people. Another tired relativist argument is that norms are merely the reflection of the interests of the power actors who make the rules and stand to gain from their enforcement. While one may make this argument too, it will not alter the fact that freedom makes no sense without order, and that power must be deployed to insure order. Power considerations cannot be wished away; and the actions of powerful actors should not be dismissed out of hand as morally suspect.
Pluralists hold firm against cynicism. They contend that it is both possible and necessary to sort out competing claims. Pluralists observe that every society has strongly developed codes of duty and restraint that promote some notion of human well being. Part of what makes us human is our capacity to understand these norms, how they developed, and why—even if we disagree with them strongly. This open approach enhances the prospects for moral argument.
Isaiah Berlin gives us a classic example of how and why pluralism is not relativism. He writes:
Pluralism is not relativism because Berlin first empathizes, he seeks to understand the Nazi worldview on its own terms, and then he engages in moral argument to refute it.
Another place to plant the flag against relativism is on the high ground of the idea of "rights." By rights we mean protections and entitlements in relation to duties and responsibilities. Rights arguments are put forward against arguments of utility. According to rights theorists from Kant to Jefferson and beyond, there is something fundamental about being human (an inalienable characteristic) that prohibits any person as being treated as something merely "useful," as a means to an end.
The source of human rights is an unending debate. However, I am persuaded by pragmatists like Judith Shklar, Amy Gutmann, and Michael Ignatieff who argue that in the end, foundational arguments may not really matter.14 Empirical observation of the need for human rights and the work that human rights arguments do may be sufficient. After all, the mass murders of the twentieth century are proof of the need for protection. Think of the body counts under the regimes of Hitler, Stalin, and Mao. The facts of the genocides and gulags in such recent memory should be sufficient to make the case that protections are needed. Duties to provide protection therefore follow.
Rights claims raise questions about assignment of responsibilities that are not always clear. One way to think about assignment of responsibilities is to consider rights claims in terms of "perfect" and "imperfect" obligations. Perfect obligations are specific and direct. For example, we have the perfect obligation not to torture. Imperfect obligations are more general, less specific, and inexactly targeted. So in the case of torture, there is the requirement to "to consider the ways and means through which torture can be prevented."15
Although this is not a perfect illustration of the distinction between perfect and imperfect duties, consider the infamous case of Kitty Genovese. Kitty Genovese was a 28-year old woman who lived in Kew Gardens Queens in 1964. One night on her way home, she was stabbed several times by an unknown assailant and left to die. Her case became widely known because it was alleged that 38 people passed her by as she lay dying in the street. No one helped her. Presumably, each of the 38 passers-by thought someone else would help, or they didn't want to get involved. Whatever the precise details, this scenario helps to elucidate the point about perfect and imperfect duties. We all share the basic duty not to harm. But we also share the basic duty not to allow the conditions of harm, and that when harm is done, to mitigate the effects of it. To echo a previous point, the exercise of imperfect duty is far from altruism. It is in our enlightened self-interest to live in a community where people are not left to die in the streets.
In looking at public policy today, we see several obvious cases where both our direct and indirect participation in the mitigation of harms is inevitable. As participants in the global economy, the global environment and global security, we act both directly as agents and indirectly as bystanders. When we consume and travel, we engage in a system that provides benefits and places burdens. There is really no place to hide. As implicated agents in these social arrangements, our actions will be judged accordingly.
The third principle to consider is fairness. Ideas about fairness are highly subjective and heavily influenced by circumstances. As I have written elsewhere with my co-author Ethan Kapstein, one of the most useful models for illustrating fairness considerations is the Ultimatum Game (UG).16 In the game, two players have the opportunity to divide a pot of money. A proposer (P) makes an offer to a Respondent (R) over how a pot of money should be divided. R can either accept P's offer—in which case the money is divided as P proposed—or R can reject the offer, in which case both players walk away with nothing.
The classic rational actor model of behavior predicts that, in such cases, the split might be something along the lines of 99:1; that is, P would offer R 1 unit while keeping 99 for himself. Since we can usually count on profit-maximizing behavior, this division makes both parties better off and so there is no reason for R to reject it. Maximization strategies therefore lead to unequal divisions of a given pie.
But behavioral economists, repeating the UG in a variety of countries and under and a variety of conditions, have observed a puzzling result. When R's are offered an amount that they consider to be "unfair" they reject it—they would prefer nothing to something. Indeed, knowing that "unfair" offers are likely to be rejected, P's routinely offer about one-half the pot at the outset, and when asked why they do so they normally answer that "this seems fair."
Researchers have drawn several significant findings from the UG, all of which are relevant to the study of moral considerations in world politics. First, P's adopt moral reasoning or other-regarding behavior out of their self-interest. Proposers who do not care about what others think must nonetheless fear rejection of an "unfair" offer and the absence of any payoff whatsoever. The adoption of "fairness considerations" is therefore efficiency enhancing to the extent that it leads to an agreement and thus an increase in welfare for both of the agents.17
Second, the Proposer's concern with achieving an equitable or fair result arises in part from uncertainty about how R will respond to its offer. If P knows that R will willingly accept a greedy offer, P will be much more inclined to propose a lopsided division. Not knowing R's response ex ante, P offers the amount that intuitively seems to be fair (e.g. equal division).
Returning to our theme of enlightened self-interest, fairness and reciprocity suggest that what is good for you is often linked to be what is good for others involved. This is the nature of complex problems and decisions. Taken to the global level, individual interests must be seen in terms of complex interdependence, international norms, and global responsibilities.
J'espère que ces remarques vous ont donné des idées positives sur le leadership, mais j'espère aussi qu'elles n'ont pas été trop prometteuses. Il est important de conclure avec un sens du réalisme qui nous rappelle les limites de l'accomplissement humain et les dangers de supposer des résultats harmonieux. Les bonnes intentions ne suffisent jamais. Les dirigeants doivent toujours veiller aux conséquences. Les impératifs moraux sont souvent contradictoires. Les dirigeants doivent faire des choix difficiles et imparfaits. La définition littérale du mot "utopie" signifie "pas d'endroit". L'utopie n'existe pas. Et comme vous le savez tous d'après l'histoire, c'est la poursuite de l'utopie - de sociétés et de résultats parfaits - qui a conduit aux pires épisodes de l'histoire de l'humanité.
Il y a beaucoup de choses dans les dictons courants tels que "le leadership est un travail par mauvais temps" et les organisations "pourrissent de la tête aux pieds". Les charges qui pèsent sur les dirigeants les obligent à être visionnaires et exemplaires, mais ils ne peuvent ni ne doivent aspirer à la perfection. L'éthique joue un rôle central pour naviguer entre la vision idéale et les réalités de la vie quotidienne. L'éthique est un processus, une réflexion constante sur les aspirations et les compromis. Il incombe aux dirigeants de définir leur vision normative et de mesurer leur comportement en conséquence. Quels sont mes objectifs ? Quelles sont mes valeurs fondamentales ? Et quels compromis suis-je prêt à faire ? Ces questions ne disparaissent jamais.
Les gourous du management n'hésitent pas à souligner que si nous n'essayons pas de nous améliorer, nous sommes sûrs d'empirer. L'engagement envers nos aspirations les plus élevées, l'ouverture et l'autocorrection constituent l'essence de l'éthique dans le leadership. En suggérant trois dimensions comme points d'entrée dans la recherche éthique - nos rôles en tant qu'agents moraux, en tant que participants aux institutions dans lesquelles nous vivons, et en tant qu'architectes des nouvelles institutions qui définiront notre avenir - j'espère vous avoir donné une idée de l'importance pratique de l'éthique. Et en vous proposant les principes du pluralisme, des droits et de l'équité pour planter un drapeau - ou pour orienter vos tirs -, j'espère vous avoir donné un cadre qui vous donne les moyens d'agir et vous guide sur la voie d'un leadership fondé sur des principes.
NOTES
1 Simon Blackburn, Ethics : Une très courte introduction, Oxford : Oxford University Press, 2000.
2 Ryan Patrick Hanley, "Berlin and History", dans George Crowder et Henry Hardy, eds, The One and the Many, 2007, New York : Prometheus Books, 2007, pp. 159-180.
3 Amartya Sen, Identity and Violence, New York : W.W. Norton, 2006.
4 David Nasaw, Andrew Carnegie, New York : Penguin Press, 2006.
5 Richard Brookhiser, George Washington on Leadership, New York : Basic Books, 2008.
6 Hugh LaFollette, The Practice of Ethics, Malden, MA : Blackwell Publishing, 2007.
7 Henry Atkinson, Prelude to Peace, New York : Harper & Brothers, 1937, p. 3.
8 Susan Nieman, Moral Clarity : A Guide for Grown-Up Idealists, Orlando, FL : Harcourt, 2008, p. 30.
9 Robert Wright, Non-Zero : The Logic of Human Destiny, New York : Pantheon Books, 2000, p. 5.
10 James Rachels, The Elements of Moral Philosophy : Fourth Edition, Boston : McGraw-Hill, 2003, pp. 16-17.
11 Isaiah Berlin, "The First and the Last", New York Review of Books, 14 mai 1997, p. 11.
12 David Brooks, "A Man on a Gray Horse", Atlantic, septembre 2002.
13 Isaiah Berlin, "The First and the Last", New York Review of Books, 14 mai 1997, p. 10.
14 Judith Shklar, "The Liberalism of Fear", dans Nancy L. Rosenblum, Liberalism and the Moral Life, Cambridge, MA : Harvard University Press, 1989 ; et Michael Ignatieff et Amy Gutmann, Human Rights as Politics and Idolatry, Princeton, N.J. : Princeton University Press, 2001.
15 Amartya Sen, "Elements of a Theory of Human Rights", Philosophy and Public Affairs, 2004.
16 Ethan B. Kapstein et Joel H. Rosenthal, "Ethics in International Affairs : An Assessment", dans Ethics and International Affairs, Londres : Ashgate, 2009.
17 Ethan B. Kapstein, Economic Justice in an Unfair World, Princeton : Princeton University Press, 2006.