Archive for the ‘accountability’ Category
MBA Ethics Education: Avoiding Excuses
Filed under: accountability, education, ethics, excuses, management, MBA |
Comments (9) 
This is the second in a series of blog postings on ethics education for MBA students.
We all want MBA students to leave school with a good chance of being able to do the right thing when the going gets tough. Sometimes, doing the right thing simply requires that we avoid the temptation to do the wrong thing. Positive role models are definitely a good thing, but we also need to understand why things sometimes go wrong.
We can gain insight into that by looking at why it is that people do bad things in the first place. The best short treatment of that topic that I know of, as it applies to Business Ethics, is a paper by my pal Joseph Heath.* Business seems to be, in Heath’s words, a “criminogenic” setting (i.e., a setting that seems to generate criminal behaviour, along with other forms of wrongdoing). If we want to improve ethical conduct in business, we need to understand what characteristics of the world of business are responsible for that pattern.
Heath points out that most of the “folk” theories of wrongdoing have long since been dispensed with by the experts who have spent the most time studying the topic, namely criminologists. Those folk theories hold that wrongdoing is caused 1) by defects of character, 2) by greed, or 3) by deviant values. But the available evidence just doesn’t support any of those explanations. That’s not to say that those things never play a role; it’s just to say that none of those 3 provides anything like a general explanation for wrongdoing. Instead, the existing criminological literature points to the fact that wrongdoers exhibit patterns of “neutralization” with regards to their crimes. That is, they describe their behaviour differently than an observer would. They define words differently, in order to attempt to rationalize their behaviour. In essence, what this allows them to do is to admit that they did the thing, without admitting that it was actually wrong.
The following are the “techniques of neutralization” that Heath gleans from the criminological literature:
- Denial of responsibility — e.g., “I had no choice!”;
- Denial of injury — e.g., “No one really got hurt anyway”;
- Denial of the victim — e.g., “They just got what they deserved.”;
- Condemning the condemners — e.g., “Those who accuse me are just out to get me.”;
- Appeal to higher loyalties — e.g., “I have a family to support!”;
- “Everyone else is doing it;”
- Claim to entitlement — e.g., “I built this company, I can do what I want!”
The final section of Heath’s paper deals briefly with business ethics education. He argues that what we know about the genesis of wrongdoing has clear implications for what we teach in business ethics classes. The techniques of neutralization are psychologically attractive, but in most cases they are logically faulty. So we need to teach business students to recognize them, and to recognize why they are faulty. (I’ve got lots to say on how to do that, but I’ll leave it for another time.)
Even more important, perhaps, Heath nods to the role of managers as designers. (See also yesterday’s blog entry, “MBA Ethics Education: Designing the Designers”.) The fact that managers are involved in the design of the work environments they manage implies that they need to be taught how to incorporate an understanding of the significance of techniques of neutralization into their design choices. They need the tools with which to build work environments in which certain kinds of excuses, in other words, are psychologically unattractive and socially unacceptable.
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*See Joseph Heath’s “Business Ethics and Moral Motivation: A Criminological Perspective,” Journal of Business Ethics 83:4, 2008. Here’s the abstract.
Conflict of Interest at the Business/Politics Interface
Filed under: accountability, conflict of interest, ethics, government, politics, taxpayers |
Leave a comment People tend not to trust big business. And they tend not to trust the world of politics. But when those two worlds intersect, people really get nervous.
Witness, for example, this story by Eric Lipton, for yesterday’s New York Times: A Journey From Lawmaker to Lobbyist and Back Again
The story is about Dan Coats, a former corporate lobbyist recently elected to the US Senate.
Dan Coats, then a former senator and ambassador to Germany, served as co-chairman of a team of lobbyists in 2007 who worked behind the scenes to successfully block Senate legislation that would have terminated a tax loophole worth hundreds of millions of dollars in additional cash flow to Cooper Industries.
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As part of the Republican wave in this year’s midterm elections, Mr. Coats will join the Senate again and is seeking a coveted spot on the Finance Committee, the same panel that tried to shut the tax loophole and that the Obama administration has pushed to again consider such a move.
The worry alluded to in the NYT piece, but not explored in any depth, is that of conflict of interest. The vague worry is roughly that there is — well, some sort of conflict between Mr. Coats’ old allegiances and his new position.
Coincidentally, here’s a piece (just published today) that I wrote about conflict of interest in the Canadians Prime Minister’s Office: Conflict of Interest in the PMO: Just What is the Worry?
The main point of my article is neither to accuse nor to absolve. It’s to point out that we need to get clear on just what the worry is, in any particular situation. A vague worry that “something ain’t right, here” is fine as a starting point, but if we want to go beyond that, and if we want to prescribe smart solutions, we need to get clearer about what the problem is.
Some scholarly definitions cast the matter as a question of judgment. Under such definitions, conflict of interest is said to occur if there is good reason to think that the judgment of the individual in question will be impaired. In other words, will she be able to exercise judgment impartially, or will her judgment be clouded by other factors that ought to, for ethical reasons, be excluded?
Other definitions frame the issue as one about the interests of those being served: a conflict is said to occur if there is reason to doubt the individual’s ability to faithfully serve the interests of those they are sworn to serve.
Whatever their differences, both definitions focus on service. We worry about conflict of interest when the incentives present in a given situation give us reason to doubt the quality of an individual’s service as a trusted advisor or decision-maker. This analysis suggests that, whatever the Conflict of Interest Act may say, the real question in the case of Wright is whether the judgment that he exercises in his capacity as the chief of staff can reasonably be expected to be skewed (consciously or subconsciously) by the interests of his former, corporate, employers.
The same could, and presumably should, be asked about Mr. Coats. But, as always, I am at pains to point out that a conflict of interest is a situation, not an accusation. If there is reason to worry about Mr. Coats’ judgment, that is not a matter of impugning Mr. Coats’ integrity. Rather, it is a matter of considering what measures (if any) are sufficient to make sure that the value of his service to the public outweighs the risks.
Management Ethics & Oaths Without Professionalization
Filed under: accountability, CSR, honesty, management, MBA, professionalism |
Comments (2) Here’s a piece I wrote as part of a debate on the MBA Oath, in a recent Canadian Business magazine: The MBA oath helps remind graduates of their ethical obligations.
In the article, I express the view that the MBA Oath, in its current incarnation, is “not a revolutionary thing, not a perfect thing, [but] definitely a good thing.” The real thrust of my defence of the Oath is that most of the criticisms of it are simply off-base. Critics either expect too much of a simple oath, or conversely underestimate the value of having people stand up and say “I promise.”
My conclusion:
But overall, the main problem with the MBA oath isn’t really a problem with the oath at all — it’s a problem with people’s expectations. Dismissive critics say that no oath will solve the deep and abiding moral problems that beset the world of business. That’s surely true, but no one could seriously have thought otherwise. It’s trite, but also true, to say that the world of business is increasingly complex. The ethical demands on business are higher than ever. In particular, business executives are called upon with increasing regularity to account for their actions and their policies, and to justify them to an increasing range of stakeholders. Add to that the enormous, lingering cultural rift regarding the proper role of corporations and markets. The MBA oath is of course not going to solve all of the ethical challenges that arise in such a context. Nor is it going to ensure that none of its signatories ever crosses the line into regrettable or disreputable or even disgraceful behaviour. But if given half a chance, the MBA oath might just turn out to play a small but not insignificant role in keeping the discussion alive.
Now, I do think there are some valid criticisms of the MBA Oath. One kind of criticism has to do with its content. I think, for example, that the Oath needs to be more clear regarding the balancing of the interests of various stakeholders. Note also that the current version of the Oath has MBA’s swearing not to engage in “business practices harmful to society”, a category so broa and contentious as to provide practically zero moral guidance.
But another set of criticisms has to do not with the Oath’s content, but with the its goals. At least some supporters of the Oath liken it to the Hippocratic Oath, and look to the day when Management can take its place alongside professions like Medicine, law, Accounting, and others. That, I think, is a mistake.
To see why, you can begin with this very recent piece by Ben W. Heineman, Jr., on his Harvard Business Review Blog: Management as a Profession: A Business Lawyer’s Critique.
Heineman’s focus isn’t on the question of oaths, but (as the title implies) on the question of professionalism more generally. He suggests that people who promote ethics in management by analogy to the professions misunderstand the nature of professionalism — and in particular, misunderstand his own profession, law. Heineman agrees that business schools face serious ethical questions. But, he says:
…these significant questions for business schools can be addressed without putting them in a context of the imperfect and potentially misleading analogy to legal professionalism
Another view on the question of professionalism is provided by Roger Martin (Dean of the Rotman School of Management), on his Harvard Business Review Blog: Management Is Not a Profession — But It Can Be Taught.
Martin points out two key characteristics of “the professions,” as those are traditionally understood. One is information asymmetry — basically, professionals like physicians and lawyers know stuff that their patients or clients generally do not. For example, I can of course look up basic facts of anatomy on Wikipedia, but it takes a trained dermatologist to tell me if that little bump is a harmless cyst or a potentially-deadly carcinoma.
The other element of professionalism that Martin points to is regulation. Information asymmetry is a problem in lots of industries, but only in some cases does it result in professionalization:
[When such a service]…is delivered by an identifiable individual practitioner, it tends to become a regulated profession. Doctors are regulated professionals because if they screw up, people die….
So, failure by identifiable individuals, says Martin, is the key:
The higher the cost of failure, the more likely the individual practice in question is to become a regulated profession.
That, he says, is why managers are unlikely every to be professionals in the narrow sense. For managers…
…[f]ailure is seen as the product of a team of managers doing a poor job in concert, rather than the product of one manager. Of course, CEOs get singled out for disproportionate blame. But the question is not whether being a CEO should be a profession but rather whether management should be a profession.
Of course, none of this is to say that managers can’t be expected to behave “like professionals” or to “conduct themselves in a professional manner,” in the looser sense of the word “professional.” The information asymmetry that exists between corporate managers and (for example) the company’s shareholders is very considerable, and it ought to be seen as bringing real responsibilities. The same goes for most front-line workers; lacking high-level business education and lacking direct access to the company’s books, they are left to trust senior managers to keep the company solvent in order to maintain job security. Being a manager may not make you a professional, but it is an awful lot like being a professional, in ethically-important ways. It is in that looser sense that the MBA Oath ought to be understood as seeking to instill in MBAs a sense of professionalism.
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(p.s. I blogged about this back in May of 2009: Harvard Students Take Ethics Pledge.)
Is a Board Position a Conflict of Interest?
Filed under: accountability, boards, conflict of interest, corporations, employees, governance, professionalism |
Comments (2) Here’s an story (in which I was quoted) by Paul Turenne, in the Winnipeg Sun: Gerrard slams WRHA manager’s ‘moonlighting’.
The story is basically about a senior executive (Brock Wright) at the Winnipeg Regional Health Authority (the public body responsible for administering hospitals in and around that city) who took a position on the Board of Directors of a small American medical technology company. Critics (like Opposition leader Gerard, named in the headline) called that a Conflict of Interest.
Now, a conflict of interest is basically any situation in which a person has a private or personal interest sufficient to appear to influence the objective exercise of judgment in his or her official duties.
So, to figure out whether there’s a problem here, a few elements need to be considered.
1) Does taking a Board position constitute an “personal interest” in the relevant sense? The one that’s usually (but not always) at stake is an interest in money. Well, And corporate board membership isn’t typically volunteer work. It involves a significant stipend, along with a good deal of personal prestige.
2) What bits of judgment might Wright need to exercise on behalf of WRHA that might be jeopardized by his board membership? The most obvious one is his involvement in purchasing decisions for the WRHA. In that regard, a spokesperson for the WRHA says:
This is a company the WRHA has no business relationship with. We have not purchased anything from them. If at any time they were to try to sell us something, Dr. Wright would of course remind us of his relationship with them and recuse himself from any discussions. Having said that, he’s not in a position to make decisions like that. We have a very strict policy about the tendering process
The bigger issue (though perhaps not insurmountable) is the judgment that Wright (or any employee) needs to exercise with regard to his own time management. Being a member of a corporate board isn’t an honourary thing: it comes with real responsibilities, and can take considerable time. So the question I would want to ask, if I where the WRHA, is how Wright plans to satisfy his duties as a member of the TearLab board (including possibly several trips a year to attend meetings in California) without diminishing the quality of his work in Winnipeg. If there’s reasonable plan to make that happen,
3) Finally, it’s worth noting (again and again) that being in a Conflict of Interest isn’t automatically unethical. (So it’s not, contrary to the headline used in another newspaper’s story about this issue, an accusation.) It is possible to end up in a Conflict of Interest through no fault of your own. And, finding yourself in a COI, what matters is what you do about it. Disclosing the COI to the person or organization relying on your judgment is usually considered step 1, and removing yourself from key decisions, if possible, is another standard move. But COI is at least sometimes worth tolerating, if managed appropriately. That does mean, though, that we should all be expected to think carefully, before putting ourselves into a Conflict of Interest, whether the risks are manageable, and whether in the end those risks are sufficient to constitute a disservice to those who rely upon our judgment.
Corporate Governance and Ethics
Filed under: accountability, boards, corporations, CSR, governance, shareholders |
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“Corporate governance” is the term used to refer to the policies and processes by which a corporation (or other large, complex institution) is controlled and directed. It refers especially to the way power and accountability flow between shareholders, boards of directors, CEOs, and senior managers.
For most corporations, the basic governance structure is this: shareholders vote for, and hence empower, a board of directors, who then have a fiduciary responsibility to look out for shareholders’ interests. The board hires a CEO, who is accountable to the board. The CEO (sometimes with input from the board) hires a management team, and so on. At each step, there is a flow of power down the chain (from shareholders through to front-line employees), and a flow of accountability back up that chain. And there are all sorts of rules — including various policies and principles of good governance — that establish how that power and accountability is to be implemented. There will be internal rules, for example (partly determined by relevant corporate law), about how board elections are to be carried out. There are also governance principles that apply to things like the inclusion of external, “independent” directors on the board.
In case it’s not obvious, I’ll say it explicitly: corporate governance is out-and-out a matter of ethics. It is about who is responsible to whom, and for what, and under what conditions.
Now, to an investor, governance might look first and foremost like a matter of economics: no one particularly wants to invest in a poorly-governed company. And governance is also legal matter (for example, the Sarbanes-Oxley Act of 2002 includes a number of requirements about corporate governance). Governance is properly a legal matter because (at least arguably) shareholders need protection from unscrupulous or merely lazy boards of directors and executives, and because the public interest is at stake when large companies are mis-governed. Enron used to be the prime example of poor governance practices having a devastating effect on shareholders and the broader public. These days we could probably look to a few major financial institutions for object lessons in the ill effects of bad governance.
But even where the law is silent, governance remains important: regardless of whether you think in terms of a narrow, shareholder-driven, profits-first perspective, or instead in terms of a broader ‘stakeholder’ approach, you simply have to agree that the way decisions get made, and the interests that corporate policies tell decision-makers to serve, are ethically important matters.
My mind is on governance a lot lately, not least because I’m currently a Visiting Scholar at the Clarkson Centre for Business Ethics and Board Effectiveness (at the University of Toronto’s Rotman School of Management).
While I’m at Clarkson, I’m helping out with the CCBE blog. The blog is focused primarily on governance and board effectiveness, but in most cases the ethical implications of those issues are pretty clear. Today, for instance, the blog features a posting about changes in the way boards of directors are elected — and how at last some companies (including one Canadian company, Linamar Corp.) have been slow to catch on. Here’s the blog entry: Trend Watch: How are Directors Elected?
See also: the entry on Corporate Governance in the Concise Encyclopedia of Business Ethics.
- What Directors Need to Know: Corporate Governance, by Carol Hansell (the focus of this book is on Canada, but much of it is generally applicable)
- Harvard Business Review on Corporate Governance
Symantec Directors: $250,000/Year Not Enough to Log in to Annual Meeting
Filed under: accountability, boards, corporations, governance, profits, shareholders |
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The shareholders of a public company are sometimes said to own the company. That’s not literally true, for lots of reasons. (See: Do Toyota’s Shareholders Own the Company?) What shareholders really own is the right to part of a company’s profits (if any) after all of its other expenses are paid. At any rate, the fact remains that shareholders are crucially important, and they are in many ways vulnerable. The legal rights of shareholders are relatively few, and relatively weak. That’s what makes corporate governance so important. Shareholders elect the Board of Directors, and the Board of Directors is responsible for hiring the CEO and helping set the overall strategic directo of the firm. For most shareholders, there are precious few ways to interact with, let alone influence, the Board of Directors. The Annual Shareholder Meeting is critical, in that regard.
That’s what makes it so striking when any company degrades its Annual Shareholder Meeting in the way Symantic did this year by switching to an all-virtual, audio-only meeting. See this opinion piece, by Gretchen Morgenson, for the NYT: Questions, and Directors, Lost in the Ether. Check out this juicy bit:
…because the Webcast provided no video, shareholders may not have realized that several directors had not bothered to attend the meeting, even virtually. When asked about directors’ attendance, [Symantec spokeswoman] Ms. Haldeman said 8 of the 11 showed up.
Attending annual meetings seems a pretty basic requirement of a director, don’t you think? Sure, such gatherings may seem a corporate equivalent of root-canal therapy, but a duty is a duty. Directors are paid for their service, after all, sometimes very handsomely. According to Symantec’s most recent proxy materials, directors get around $250,000 a year in cash and stock.
So which directors had neither the time nor the inclination to log on to their computers last Monday to hear from the shareholders they have an obligation to represent? Ms. Haldeman refused to identify those who were AWOL.
Now, it’s worth pointing out that the 3 directors who didn’t “show up” could well have had very good reasons. But if that’s true, Symantic’s shareholders deserve to know it. The little power shareholders have can only be exercised effectively if boards of directors take their duty of accountability seriously.
Tools for Corporate Funding of Elections
Filed under: accountability, corporations, personhood, politics, stakeholders |
Comments (5) 
What sorts of things are corporations — and charities and associations and churches and unions and so on? Should we think of such organizations as things that are themselves capable of taking action, or should we think of them as tools that people use when they want to take action?
Case in point: the controversial organizations discussed in this recent NYT editorial, The Secret Election:
…the most disturbing story of this year’s election is embodied in an odd combination of numbers and letters: 501(c)(4). That is the legal designation for the advocacy committees that are sucking in many millions of anonymous corporate dollars, making this the most secretive election cycle since the Watergate years….
Now, recall that, in the wake of the U.S. Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision, all the talk was about the notion of corporate personhood — despite the fact that the majority decision made only passing reference to the concept. (See my blog entry here.) But notice that there’s no reference to corporate or organizational personhood in the NYT editorial. It’s simply not at issue. What’s at issue is the use of organizations as a certain kind mechanism, or tool. Note that, according to the NYT, interested corporations are using 501(c)(4) organizations as a conduit, with a court-sanctioned secrecy shield. The question here isn’t so much what the 501(c)(4)’s are doing, but what they are being used for.
I think that difference in perspective — between thinking of organizations as agents and thinking of organizations as tools — is worth taking seriously. Now, to be clear, I don’t think it makes sense to say that one or the other of those perspectives is the right one, for all cases. I strongly suspect there are cases where each makes sense. Clearly there are differences, and each will highlight certain aspects of a situation at the expense of others.
For example: focusing on the organization’s capacities as an agent (or quasi-agent, if you like) allows us to consider the possibility that the organization, as a whole, is deserving of punishment for wrongs that result from its actions; but it can obscure the interests and motives of the people behind the organization. (In the present case, if we focus on the personhood and/or rights of the 501(c)(4)’s, we might be distracted from crucial questions about the political motives of the people making use of them. On the other hand, focusing on the organization’s instrumental nature can obscure the complicated ways in which organizations transform and sometimes mistranslate the intentions of the individuals behind them. But it can also facilitate an engineering perspective on organizations, one that allows us to think about how the organization — as a complex mechanism — can be taken apart, re-engineered, and put back together again. So, in the present case, thinking about the 501(c)(4)’s as mechanisms allows us more readily to consider which of the legally-constituted features of 501(c)(4)’s are serving useful functions, and which (if any) ought to be re-engineered.
Now, I’ve argued before that there are certain purposes for which we simply must regard corporations as persons — as particular kinds of agents (“must” because important goals that we all endorse would be impossible to achieve otherwise). But when it comes to particular instances of ethical assessment of a corporation or other kind of organization, we should ask ourselves: is this one of the cases where it’s useful to think of the corporation as an agent, or is this one of the cases where it’s useful to think of the corporation as an instrument? Or are there other ways of framing the issues that serve us better still?
Directors of Failed Companies
Filed under: accountability, boards, corporations, governance |
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Question: What does one do after losing a position on the Board of Directors of a failed company?
Answer: Why, join another Board of Directors, of course!
At least, that’s the case for a number of former Directors of companies like A.I.G., Bear Stearns and Lehman Brothers — companies at the heart of the financial crisis. See this story from the NYT: Companies May Fail, but Directors Are in Demand.
Does this make any sense?
The first issue to consider is whether it’s prudent for other companies to recruit directors from failed companies. After all, they were members of the teams that were supposed to be steering those ships juuuust before they hit those icebergs. But failure doesn’t imply that every member of the team was a dud, and any director who has been through a company’s collapse has arguably learned from the experience. At least one expert quoted in the NYT thinks that’s plausible:
“Directors of these financial institutions may or may not have been asleep at the switch, and if they were, they had a lot of company,” said Michael Klausner, a corporate law professor at Stanford. “Leaving that question aside, they may well have gained valuable experience that will make them good directors today.”
It’s also worth pointing out that there’s no clearly-established, strong connection between board effectiveness and corporate success. (Consider: even a well-governed company will die if its products suck or if the market for its product turns sour.) So it’s plausible that a failed company can have a good board. But in the cases we’re concerned with here, there seems to be consensus that boards didn’t do terribly well. But still, a board might be made up of a dozen directors, and there’s only so much one great director can do if surrounded by turkeys. So it’s certainly plausible, at least, that there may have been individual gems on even the worst boards among those governing failed companies. In terms of talent, each deserves to be considered on his or her own merits.
What about ethically? Is there any ethical reason not to draft the former directors of the likes of A.I.G., Bear Stearns and Lehman? Well, to start, see above. Quality governance is itself an ethical issue. (See also my recent blog entry on board competence.) So a board’s Nominating Committee has an ethical duty to recruit talented people. Is there any ethical reason not to recruit those talented people? Although I suspect many people’s intuitions will say there is a problem, there, I’m not so sure. Blacklisting even the talented directors of failed companies could only be punitive in intent — and punishment needs to be case-by-case. The onus then is on Nominating Committees to do their due diligence, and to satisfy themselves — and their shareholders — that this particular former director of a failed company behaved neither incompetently nor immorally. How many of the directors named in the NYT story could pass that test? I could not begin to guess.
Competence, Ethics & HP’s Board
Filed under: accountability, boards, corporations, governance, management, shareholders |
Comments (5) 
A corporation’s Board of Directors has a fiduciary duty to represent the interests of the company’s shareholders. In particular, the Board does that by selecting a CEO (and sometimes by participating in selection of other members of the management team) and by helping set the company’s strategic course. The work they do is of crucial economic importance — both to investors (to whom they are directly accountable) and to the functioning of the economy more generally. But (or maybe precisely for that reason) good governance and board effectiveness are also ethical issues.
By way of illustration, take a look at the recent controversy over the departure of Mark Hurd as CEO of Hewlett-Packard.
The short version: HP’s (now former) CEO, Mark Hurd, got caught fudging his expense reports. Sexual improprieties were also implied. So, the Board fired Hurd, and payed him a huge severance package. Then just a month later he joined HP’s rival, Oracle, which was very bad news for HP. Now HP’s Board is suing Hurd. It’s a huge mess, and much of it reflects badly on HP’s Board. See, for example, Joe Nocera’s recent piece in the NYT: H.P.’s Blundering Board
The Hewlett-Packard board is back to doing what it does best: shooting itself in the foot. By filing an embarrassing lawsuit against the company’s former chief executive, Mark V. Hurd, this week — a suit that unwittingly highlights the mistakes it made in the way it let Mr. Hurd go — the H.P. board can now lay claim, officially, to the title of the Most Inept Board in America….
I’m not qualified to judge HP’s Board from a strict governance point of view. But the governance experts quoted by Nocera seem convinced that the Board is, shall we say, not exactly doing a bang-up job. What should we say about that from the point of view of ethics?
To begin, we should note that ineptness itself is not generally considered unethical. We generally are not to blame for our own weaknesses. If you’re physically clumsy, then it’s not your fault that you’re not good at juggling. If you have no mind for numbers, then it’s not your fault that you don’t excel in math.
But there are exceptions to that general rule.
In fact, there are at least two factors that can allow us to hold an individual or group responsible for ineptness. One of those is the fact of having voluntarily taken on a job that you knew would require certain talents and aptitudes. If you know you’re prone to clumsiness, you shouldn’t take a job requiring dextrous manipulation of, say, dangerous chemicals. Likewise, you shouldn’t take a position on the Board of Directors of a major corporation if you don’t have the wisdom and strategic skills such a position demands. Unfortunately, with things like wisdom there’s a difficult catch-22: some people aren’t clever enough to realize that they’re not clever enough to be on a corporate Board. (Note that I’m not accusing anyone on HP’s Board of lacking the requisite talent; I’m merely outlining the ways in which one can be held responsible for incompetence.)
A second factor that can justify holding someone responsible for their own level of competence is the availability of relevant training. If they have reason to think their skills are not what they could be, and if relevant training is available, and if they have not availed themselves of it, then they are culpable for the resulting deficits. Now, being on a modern corporate Board is no trivial task. Corporate Boards are no longer the window dressing they once were. Business today is increasingly complex, and so being on a Board today requires a lot of knowledge (about business and law and regulations and so on and so on). So, there are organizations out there that are set up to provide training. (In Canada, we have this and this, for example.) Now, it’s not clear that Board training would have helped HP’s Board avoid the errors it apparently made in dealing with Hurd. Again, I’m merely trying to outline the conditions under which a lack of skill (something others have accused them of) becomes something ethically problematic.
In the end, the point is this. Modern Boards face enormous challenges. And while we most often think of corporate governance as a legal matter and as a matter of interest to shareholders, in the end it is really about making sure that the right decisions get made by the right people for the right reasons. Add to that the fact that executive decisions have the potential to have enormous impact — financial and otherwise — on people both inside and outside the corporation, and it becomes easy to see why governance must be considered an ethical issue as well.
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Note: edited on Sept 17, 2010 to correct 2 places where I had accidentally typed “BP” instead of “HP”.
The Oil Sands, and the Battle of the Boycotts
Filed under: accountability, boycott, consumers, CSR, environment, protest |
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The Athabasca oil sands (in Alberta, Canada) are not pretty. But they are vast, constituting one of the largest deposits of oil in the world — something in the range of 150 billion barrels, enough to help make Canada a net exporter of oil.
The oil sands (also known, colloquially and sometimes pejoratively, as the “tar sands”) are also environmentally controversial. The process of extracting oil from oil sands is not a clean one; it has a significant impact on land, air, and water. In fact, the process is so messy that it is only worth doing when the price of oil is relatively high, as it is right now. For environmental groups and other critics, the oil sands are just not worth it.
It’s worth noting that the oil sands do have their defenders. Matt Ridley, for example, in his recent book, The Rational Optimist, argues that the oil sands are a much more sane solution to current energy needs than things like wind (too unreliable and too little output) and biofuels (wasteful use of land).
Back in July, two US-based groups (Forest Ethics and Corporate Ethics International) called for a boycott of Alberta as a tourism destination. (See the Financial Post story, here.) More recently, though, the boycott has expanded to include a number of American retailers who have promised to refuse to use any petroleum products from the oil sands. See the Scientific American story, by Tina Casey, Boycott of Petroleum Products from Alberta Tar Sands Gathers Steam:
In a sign of things to come for corporate activism, The Gap, Timberland, Levi Strauss and Walgreens have just joined Whole Foods and Bed, Bath and Beyond in a boycott of petroleum products sourced from the notorious Alberta Tar Sands. As reported by Bob Weber of The Canadian Press, Federal Express has also adopted a policy that appears to lead toward joining the boycott….
(A more recent story suggests that Levi Strauss is not, in fact, participating in the boycott.)
A few points:
First, I’m generally skeptical about boycotting an entire jurisdiction (as the original boycott of Alberta tourism seemed to intend) on the grounds that you don’t like one particular business there. It’s entirely unclear how boycotting Alberta tourism was supposed to convince the government of the province to shut down the oil sands. (Note that while tourism is not exactly trivial in the Albertan economy, neither is it crucial. And besides, international visitors to Alberta account for just 7% of the province’s tourism.) Note also that the principle supposedly at play here doesn’t generalize very well. If you don’t like Walmart, do you boycott Arkansas, where Walmart is headquartered? Is anyone calling for a boycott of the U.K.? After all that’s where BP is based.
But I’m even more interested in the corporate boycott by Whole Foods etc.
As this opinion piece points out, anyone thinking of boycotting oil from the oil sands needs to think about what they’re choosing instead:
Where are they going to buy their gas from, if not Canada?
Saudi Arabia? Could there be a more unethical barrel of oil than one from that racist, misogynistic, terror-sponsoring dictatorship? Venezuela, to enrich strongman Hugo Chavez? Iran, with its nuclear plans?
In other words, if you’re really going to get picky about where your oil comes from, you’d better just stop using it at all.
The same opinion piece (by Ezra Levant) pointed out that many of the companies participating in the boycott are not exactly angels themselves. Walgreens (a pharmacy chain) was fined $35 million for defrauding Medicaid. And pretty much everyone knows that The Gap has been the target of its fair share of criticism over the labour practices at the third-world factories that produce the clothes it sells. Now, being hypocritical doesn’t mean being wrong, but it might well lessen these companies’ moral authority somewhat. (And notice that Levant suggests a tit-for-tat boycott of The Gap, etc., by Albertans.)
Next, an economic point. I’m no economist, but my guess is that if the corporate boycott has any impact at all, it will be roughly as follows. The reduction in demand for oil-sands oil will reduce the price it can command. And when you lower the price of something? Yup, you make it easier for other people to buy it. So, more — not less — will end up being used.
Finally, the points above leave us with the conclusion that the corporate boycott of oil from the oil sands is largely symbolic. Well, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it? I guess that depends on who is sending, and who is receiving, that symbolic message. And in this case, the message certainly isn’t going to have — indeed, can’t possibly be intended to have — any effect on decision-makers in Alberta. So the only real possibility is that Whole Foods, The Gap, etc., are sending a message to consumers. What message? “We’re green,” I guess, or “We care.” But the message being heard by anyone looking at this carefully is, “We haven’t thought this through.”
[Thanks to MW for suggesting I blog on this.]
The Business Ethics Blog 