by Rushworth M. Kidder
If there were a Guinness Book of Ethics Records, last week would surely be in it. Over a five-day period, in tragedies almost operatic in scale, three outsized personalities fell like dominos through their own scheming.
Most notable was Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich, arrested December 9 on federal charges of conspiring to solicit bribes in the filling of the U.S. Senate seat left vacant by Barack Obama’s election.
Two days earlier, a respected and high-flying New York attorney, Marc Dreier, was picked up by federal authorities for stealing $113 million — just since October — by selling worthless promissory notes appearing to come from the firms of some of his own clients.
Then, on December 12, one of Wall Street’s legendary traders, Bernard Madoff, was arrested at dawn by federal agents and accused of running what may be history’s largest Ponzi scheme, defrauding his clients of perhaps $50 billion.
Fraud, sadly enough, is a daily affair, so three cases in a week isn’t unusual. What distinguished last week was the gall and scope of the perpetrations. Gov. Blagojevich wasn’t just selling drivers’ licenses, as his (now imprisoned) predecessor, Gov. George Ryan, had done. He allegedly was marketing one of the nation’s highest offices to the highest bidder.
Nor was Mr. Dreier just scamming a few innocents. He reportedly was deceiving sophisticated investors, in part by tricking receptionists into letting him bring his potential customers into the conference rooms of the very firms whose letterhead he used to create the phony loan documents.
And Mr. Madoff wasn’t guilty of making just a few bad trades. At $50 billion, he is accused of collecting and losing half again as much as the entire Detroit auto industry requested earlier this month from a government bailout.
The grim symbolism here is that this trio of miscreants represents the three institutions — politics, business, and the law — that lie at the heart of our nation’s current financial crisis. Given democracy’s checks and balances, we typically can survive corruption in one institution if the others are sound: Bad politicians are done in by good laws and honest financing, and corporate corruption can’t endure government oversight rooted in legal integrity. What was so jarring was the triple whammy — the sense that all three sectors are now vulnerable. Is there no place where the standard of ethics remains inviolable? Is there no safe moral haven left?
No, not unless we build it. There’s no infallible metric we can use to measure self-aggrandizement, hypocrisy, and deception. Our only security lies in creating an ethical culture — not just better individual politicians and bankers and lawyers, but a climate that makes it easier and more natural for governors to act responsibly, financiers to take pride in honesty, and lawyers to love fairness.
Is that hopelessly idealistic? Not if you look back over the lifetime of Western democracy. In two centuries, we’ve managed to create an astonishing standard: a broadly shared expectation that most people will do the right thing. In part that’s because we’ve evolved one of the fairest and most inclusive judicial systems in history. But it’s also because, as democracy and free enterprise developed in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, it was always understood that they required a moral basis, a set of shared principles to guide each participant. For some people, those principles grew out of religion or a spiritual sense. For others, they flowed from a sense of honor, community, pride, and self-respect.
What last week tested so forcefully may be the core question of our time: Can democracy and free enterprise survive without deliberate, conscious attention to their moral compasses? If those principles decay — or, worse still, go untaught and undefended — must these institutions collapse? What happens to our legal profession when people graced with the finest educations — a Marc Dreier, say, with degrees from Harvard and Yale — apparently feel no moral tether? What becomes of the political culture when elected officials have no ethical filter to separate what they can do from what they ought to do? What transpires in finance when a forty-year reputation for probity turns out to have been based on fraud and deception?
Thirty years ago, America’s public schools were locked into so-called values-neutral education, where teaching ethics was discouraged. Last week reminds us how well our institutions reflect our teaching: When you cultivate values-neutral mindsets, you get values-neutral leaders. We don’t have to wait thirty years to undo the oxymoron of values-neutral democracy, free enterprise, and law; it appears they will undo themselves. But we can’t wait a moment longer to begin creating the cultures of integrity that may prevent last week’s opera from being serialized.
©2008 Institute for Global Ethics

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