Archive for the ‘decision-making’ Category

Regulating Wall Street Bonuses

The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission has just announced its intention to exercise oversight over levels of pay on Wall Street. Is this an example of overreaching regulation, or of justified intervention in the public interest?

Here are the details, from Ben Protess and Susanne Craig, on the NYT‘s DealBook blog: S.E.C. Proposes Crackdown on Wall Street Bonuses:

Lavish Wall Street bonuses, long the scorn of lawmakers and shareholders, have met a new foe: the Securities and Exchange Commission.

The agency on Wednesday proposed a crackdown on hefty compensation awarded at big banks, brokerage firms and hedge funds — a move intended to rein in pay packages that encouraged excessive risk-taking before the financial crisis.

The proposal would for the first time require Wall Street firms to file detailed accounts of their bonuses with the S.E.C., which could then ban any awards it deemed excessive. The rules would be aimed at top executives and hundreds of rank-and-file employees who receive incentive-based pay….

In general, we should probably have as our starting point a healthy skepticism about government attempts to regulate pay in particular industries. Remuneration for high-level jobs is typically based on some combination of rewarding past performance and incentivizing future performance, in addition to sensitivity to things like skill, experience, and the scarcity of the particular talents the job requires. And it’s highly unlikely, again speaking in generalities, that government agencies are going to have the right information and motives to allow them to determine with any degree of precision and efficiency just what a private company’s pay structure should be. Now of course governments aren’t the only ones who could err in setting up compensation schemes; private companies are perfectly capable of screwing that up pretty badly themselves. But for the most part, if private companies screw up in that regard, it’s their shareholders that should hold them accountable, just as it is shareholders who ought to hold them accountable for any other foolish spending.

But there are likely to be justified exceptions to the general presumption in favour of the government taking hands-off approach to compensation. If it is the case — and this seems to be the S.E.C.’s conclusion, here — that compensation schemes in a particular industry are seriously and chronically causing harm beyond the walls of the organization, that seems to be a pretty good argument in favour of government action. This is especially true when the damage being done is not “merely” damage to particular individuals or groups, but to the stability of the economy as a whole. And as Protess and Craig point out, “The move by regulators to have more say on Wall Street pay highlights the huge role financial institutions play in the economy.” That is what arguably makes the harm done by Wall Street compensation not just a matter of private wrongs, but of public ones.

But of course, this argument doesn’t mean the S.E.C. should rush in like a bull in a china shop. All of the concerns mentioned above still apply — there are reasons why Wall Street firms have the compensation policies they have, and it’s pretty likely that at least some of those reasons are pretty good ones related to the necessities of the industry. Indeed, the S.E.C.’s chairwoman, Mary L. Schapiro, says that “This is an area where we want to be very attuned to unintended consequences.” The S.E.C.’s objectives here, seem to be good ones; the question will be whether the quality of the agency’s methods live up to the nobility of its goals.

Ethical Constraints on a Corporation Without Humans

Hal 9000The buzz over the appearance by IBM’s computer, Watson, on Jeopardy last week has me thinking about the capacities of computers.

Could a computer run a company, and if so what would we want to say about the ethical constraints on such a company? Well, one obvious worry is that ethics requires exercising judgment. Stanley Fish, in an editorial in the NY Times a couple of days ago (“What Did Watson the Computer Do?“) argues that while computers (from laptops on up through to Watson) are very good at is following rules. What they’re bad at, Fish points out, is adapting to new situations and figuring out whether the current situation is a valid exception to the rule.

So, let’s imagine a corporation without humans. It’s not science fiction, and it’s not far-fetched. I don’t know of any in operation today, but they’re certainly possible. There are some corporations today that, while they currently do have significant human personnel, could likely survive and continue to generate revenue for at least several days without human intervention. For example, basically any company that sells a product that can be bought and shipped via the Internet, such as ebooks or music files, can operate for at least a while without humans. (If you’re skeptical about that, please accept it for now, for the sake of argument.)

So imagine a guy named Dave sets up a company selling audio books. He builds a website, which allows customers to search, find the books they want, pay online, and receive the audio book as a download. Maybe he has a web-roaming software ‘bot looking around the web to find out which print books are popular enough for his online store to feature, and maybe even a decent piece of text-to-voice software to generate the voice files, without the need for human input.

Now, as long as Dave is around, monitoring the system, we’re likely to say that Daves “is” the company, and the computer is a tool he uses. And any ethical questions about the company’s conduct should be addressed to Dave. But what if Dave dies? The computer system would keep on chugging along, making money (barring failures of hardware or software). What ethical questions does such an autonomous electronic corporation pose? If the computer harms no one, and violates no rights, is it acting “ethically”, or does that notion require the kind of judgment that Fish says is impossible for computers? Would this robo-corporation have ethical obligations, or is the very idea of a non-human construct having ethical obligations nonsense? And if it’s nonsense, then does it make sense for corporations to have obligations, or are a corporation’s obligations merely the obligations of the persons that make it work?

Most Ethically-Significant Consumer Decision?

OK, this is one where I pose a question.

What is the most ethically-significant purchasing decision a consumer can make?

Most consumer choices make very little difference in the world, taken on a purchase-by-purchase decision. In the aggregate, of course, consumer decisions are enormously important. But I’m thinking today about individual decisions.

Take the decision to buy a low-energy lightbulbs for your house. The net impact on the environment will be roughly zero. Same goes for, e.g., not eating certain kinds of tuna that are on the verge of being listed as endangered. Whether you buy tuna or not really isn’t going to make any difference to the fate of the species.

On the other hand, if you decide not to buy meat this week, the net impact is that a bunch of critters get to live (and if you think animals matter, ethically, then that’s a good thing). Of course, even that is questionable, because in most cases it’s not as if those animals were going to be killed just for you. If you don’t eat them, they’re still going to be killed, and it’s only long-term trends in consumer demand that will make a difference.

Another kind of example might include the decision to purchase, for example, a piece of art from a homeless person. In that case, a single purchase (say, for $20) might make the difference between that person eating and not eating for a couple of days — something clearly ethically significant. But those kinds of opportunities are relatively rare.

So what are the best examples of purchase decisions that individual consumers can make that will have a real, concrete impact on the world?

Groupon Does the Right Thing

On Monday I blogged about the controversy over the Groupon.com ad that played during the Super Bowl, which made light of the plight of the people of Tibet. I suggested the ad was deeply disrespectful, and even played (perhaps unintentionally) on some unfortunate stereotypes. (See Groupon Super Bowl Ad: Unethical.)

Now it seems the company is taking the widespread criticism to heart, and pulling both the Tibet ad and the others in that series. Here’s the story, by Wailin Wong for the LA Times: Groupon pulls controversial ads

Groupon Inc. Chief Executive Andrew Mason said the Chicago-based daily deals provider is pulling all of the Super Bowl ads that had provoked a negative reaction online over the weekend.

“We hate that we offended people, and we’re very sorry that we did – it’s the last thing we wanted,” Mason wrote in a blog post on Thursday, adding: “We will run something less polarizing instead. We thought we were poking fun at ourselves, but clearly the execution was off and the joke didn’t come through. I personally take responsibility; although we worked with a professional ad agency, in the end, it was my decision to run the ads….”

Now, Groupon (and in particular, CEO Mason) seem genuinely contrite; they appear not to have foreseen the public reaction to their ads. Some might speculate, cynically, that they were actually banking on the controversy and the free publicity it would bring, but I see no evidence of that. Well, better late than never I guess. But even better would be a corporate culture that empowered insiders to say, at some point during the planning & production process, “Hmm, is this really a good idea?”

Ethics of Insider Trading

“Insider trading” is one of those phrases that most adults have heard (at least on the nightly news), but that relatively few understand. (Perhaps the most famous case: Martha Stewart was originally charged with insider trading in the ImClone case.) I imagine few people even know what it really refers to. Well, it refers to situations in which corporate “insiders” (executives, directors, etc.) buy or sell their company’s stock on the basis of significant corporate information that is not available to the investing public more generally. (For more details, see the Wikipedia page on insider trading.)

But even if we don’t all know just what insider trading is, we all know insider trading is bad, and must be stopped. Right? But it’s hard to stop something that’s hard to define. In that regard, see this nice piece by Steve Maich, Editor of Canadian Business: “Chasing our tails while we chase insider trading.”

In case you hadn’t noticed, we are in the midst of a crackdown. Or rather, another crackdown. The crime du jour is an old favourite: insider trading….

There are obvious benefits to these shows of regulatory force. Seeing hedge fund managers and lawyers in handcuffs not only produces a nice dopamine rush, it’s also meant to demonstrate the integrity of the capital markets. But the costs are frequently overlooked. Like most crackdowns, this one seems likely to deepen cynicism, erode confidence and lob more grenades at shell-shocked markets….

Maich is undertandably cynical about these enforcement efforts:

Despite the periodic efforts of regulators to stamp it out, insider trading runs as rampant as ever, and that isn’t going to change. This is in part because it’s notoriously difficult to prove, but also because we have never definitely solved the fundamental puzzles at the heart of this supposed crime….

It’s worth adding that there is genuine disagreement over just why insider trading is unethical. (Some people even think it’s not unethical at all, because the executive who trades on “inside” information ends up indirectly bringing that information to the market, rendering the latter more efficient.) And if we’re not entirely sure why it’s unethical, it makes it that much harder to figure out in which cases it’s unethical.

The only scholarly article I’ve read on the ethics of insider trading is by Jennifer Moore, and is called “What Is Really Unethical About Insider Trading?”* Moore looks at a number of arguments against insider trading — arguments rooted in fairness, in property rights, and in the risk of harm to investors — and finds most of them lacking. Moore ends up arguing — plausibly, in my view — that the real reason insider trading is unethical is that it jeopardizes the fiduciary relationships that are central to business. If insider trading were permitted, that would put corporate insiders in a conflict of interest. Basically, the interests of corporate insiders would stop being well-aligned with the interests of the shareholders they are supposed to serve. And if the interests of corporate insiders aren’t aligned with the interests of shareholders, then people are much less likely to be willing to buy shares (i.e., to invest) in companies. And that wouldn’t be good for the firm, for its shareholders, or for society in general.

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*Jennifer Moore, “What Is Really Unethical About Insider Trading?” Journal of Business Ethics, Volume 9, Number 3, 171-182.

Ethics and Stupidity

Dumb and DumberWhy do people do bad things? It’s an ancient question. Certainly, some people do bad things simply because they are bad people. Psychopaths and sociopaths exist, though thankfully they are very few. Whether those few should be classified as “evil,” or as “mentally ill,” or both, is not clear to me. Either way, they certainly have the capacity to do evil. But sometimes, surely — maybe quite often — people do bad things stupidly, rather than out of evil intent. Sometimes, as I’ve blogged before, people do bad things because they allow themselves to use invalid excuses. It’s likely that some people know (in their heart of hearts) that they’re using lame excuses. But probably some people sincerely believe those excuses, and simply don’t understand that their reasoning is flawed.

“Hanlon’s Razor” is the name for an adage attributed to one Robert J. Hanlon. It says the following:

Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.

It’s a good rule of thumb, not least because it is so often true that bad outcomes owe more to poor decision-making than they do to evil intent.

Of course, if what we’re really interested in is why bad things happen, attributing it to stupidity rather than malice just pushes the question down one level. If so many people act stupidly, why?

There are at least 3 kinds of situations in which dumb things happen:

  • Some dumb moves are made by people who, well, are not that bright. The truth is that people have different levels of ability. We don’t all have equally-good judgment, and we’re not all equally good at foreseeing the consequences of our actions. In a corporate context, good hiring practices are supposed to weed out the untalented. But talent pools are always limited. And remember: screwups can in principle occur anywhere within a corporate hierarchy, so there’s no position so unimportant that a company can simply afford to fill it poorly.
  • Some dumb moves are made by people — maybe even smart people — who lack the relevant skills. In some cases, that may mean they lack the relevant technical skills. If you’re not an accountant, for example, you simply may not understand the consequences of certain kinds of bookkeeping decisions. But people can also lack the skills to assess, for example, the quality of their own arguments and thought processes. I teach a course on Critical Thinking, and believe me, people are not all equally good at spotting fallacious arguments or flawed patterns of thought. But it’s a skill-set that can be taught, and learned.
  • Some “dumb” decisions get made as a result of one or another of a bunch of well-studied cognitive biases. Those biases — the subject of an enormous body of psychological literature — go by names like “anchoring,” and “confirmation bias” and “the framing effect,”. (Confirmation bias, for example, essentially means that we have a tendency to accept new evidence when it confirms what we already believe, and to reject new data that challenges our beliefs. It’s dangerous, and we all do it.) Basically, cognitive biases are a bunch of persistent, and generally faulty, trends in the way humans think. They are ways in which we are pretty consistently subject to patterns of error in our thinking. Alarmingly, these cognitive biases tend to apply to smart people, too, as well as to people with the kind of technical training that you might hope would help them avoid such biases.

(For a bit more on why individuals do dumb things, see this Wired piece on Why Do Smart People Do Stupid Things?)

So, there are lots of reasons why people — even smart people — end up doing dumb things. And sometimes those dumb things will have evil (or just bad) consequences. It’s worth understanding the difference between bad things that happen because someone did something bad, and bad things that happen because someone did something dumb, though in some cases the line will be pretty fuzzy.

And I suspect Hanlon’s Razor holds true of organizations just as it does for individuals, and maybe more so. So really, we need to distinguish between why individuals act stupidly, and why organizations do. That’s a topic for another day.

Corporate Citizenship, Apple, and WikiLeaks

What kinds of political obligations do corporations have? In particular, do they have obligations, like governments do, not to interfere with things like people’s ability to express themselves?

See this short blog entry by Leander Kahney, at Cult of Mac: Apple Pulled Wikileaks App Because It “Violated Dev Guidelines”

Apple has joined the shameful list of companies that have denied support for Wikileaks.

Apple confirmed that it removed a Wikileaks App from the online App Store, as reported earlier, and did so because it “violated our developer guidelines.”

“Apps must comply with all local laws and may not put an individual or group in harm’s way,” Apple spokeswoman Trudy Muller told the New York Times.

However, exactly how or why the app doesn’t comply with the law — or puts individuals or groups in harm’s way, Muler didn’t explain. She also didn’t discuss the First Amendment or the freedom of the press….

(I’ve already blogged on the more general question of whether companies are justified in ceasing to do business with WikiLeaks. See: Should Companies Judge the Ethics of Those With Whom they Do Business?)

But what’s particularly interesting in the bit quoted above is that Kahney mentions the First Amendment, implying that Apple ought to support WikiLeaks because it has a First-Amendment obligation to do so.

On the face of it, from a legal point of view, that’s surely false. The First Amendment says:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances

Now, on the face of it, that’s a restriction on what the US Congress may do; it implies nothing at all about what private organizations (including corporations like Apple) may or may not do. (If there are experts on US Constitutional Law out there, please feel free to correct me!) But it may well be that the precepts enunciated in the US Constitution and Bill of Rights (or in other nations’ constitutional documents) should be thought of as having not just legal force, but also moral force, and that that moral force should be thought of as extending to all kinds of institutions, not just government. If that’s the case, then you could argue that, even though corporations are not legally bound by such principles, they ought ethically to be guided by them.

The whole issue of whether corporations have specifically political obligations to citizens (and not just more general ethical obligations to consumers) is a difficult one. Are we gaining something, or losing something, by thinking of corporations that way? Does thinking about corporations as playing a quasi-governmental role illuminate their moral obligations, or obscure them? In this regard, if you’re academically inclined it’s worth taking a look at this masterful article by my friend Pierre-Yves Néron: “Business and the Polis: What Does it Mean to See Corporations as Political Actors?”

Should Companies Judge the Ethics of Those With Whom they Do Business?

Wikileaks under examinationThe Wikleaks backlash continues. I suggested here two days ago that Mastercard was probably justified in ceasing to act as a conduit for donations to Wikileaks. I said that, at very least, it’s not surprising that a company whose business depends on its reputation as a trustworthy keeper of secrets would find it hard to endorse the behaviour of an organization that exists entirely for the purpose of exposing secrets.

But quite a few people have suggested that Mastercard (and Visa and PayPal and perhaps others) have been inconsistent, and perhaps even hypocritical, in deciding to cut off Wikileaks. As an editorialist for the Guardian pointed out

while MasterCard and Visa have cut WikiLeaks off you can still use those cards to donate to overtly racist organisations such as the Knights Party, which is supported by the Ku Klux Klan.

For that matter, you can use Mastercard or Visa to donate to any number of controversial charities and political causes, from PETA to the NRA to Planned Parenthood — all of which are organizations about which at least some people have serious moral reservations. Similarly, you can use either card to buy cigarettes, to buy guns, to buy drug paraphernalia, to reserve the services of a call girl, or to pay for hardcore pornography online. So, really, just how careful are Visa and Mastercard with regard to the companies they deal with?

And if Visa & Mastercard are on thin ice with regard to judging Wikileaks morally, that reduces the force of their ostensible reason for cutting off the organization, and lends credibility to the claim that all they’re doing is caving to government pressure.

Trying to divine the actual motives of the credit card companies here is probably nearly impossible. But this also raises the very general question of whether companies should pass moral judgment on their customers and business associates. Is it OK for a company to refuse to do business with someone — whether that someone is an individual or another company — because they have ethical objections to their behaviour?

(I touched on this topic a couple of years ago, in discussing the right of a bakery not to decorate a cake with the name “Adolf Hitler” on it. And more recently I blogged about corporate participation in the death penalty.)

Now in some cases, of course, moralistic discrimination is simply impossible, because the grounds upon which a company might choose to discriminate are invisible to them. In many markets, companies simply don’t know enough about their customers to pass judgment. The store I buy my groceries from has no idea how I live my life, what my values are, etc. Maybe if they knew more about me they would refuse to sell to me. But they don’t, so they can’t, and they aren’t likely to start going to the trouble of finding out more.

And in many (most?) cases, discrimination on moral grounds is off the agenda simply because it reduces profits. Maybe you have moral qualms with the behaviour or character of 25% of the population (or maybe even with the 50% who don’t vote the way you do), but are you really going to refuse to do business with them, and accept the resulting huge reduction in income?

And clearly, generally, this paucity of moralistic discrimination is a good thing. A lack of discrimination likely leads to greater economic efficiency (good for the community as a whole). And the fact that businesses are generally (though unfortunately not always) unable to discriminate based on, e.g., what they see as moral objections to someone’s sexual orientation, is a good thing for gays, lesbians, the transgendered, etc.

On the other hand, there are some clear cases in which it is widely accepted that companies will and should discriminate based on the character and behaviour of their customers. Think of banks, which are obligated (often legally required) to “discriminate” against criminal organizations by, for example, reporting large financial transactions to the government.

Note also that many people believe that companies should judge other companies they do business with, for example with regard to their environmental record and labour standards. In fact, lots of companies have faced serious criticism for failing to do so. Companies today are supposed to care about the ethical standards of their suppliers.

So, is it OK (or even good) for companies like Visa and Mastercard and PayPal to judge the morality of Wikileaks? Your initial answer to that is likely to depend on your opinion of Wikileaks more generally. I’d be curious to know if there’s anyone out there who says either:

  1. “Wikileaks is evil, but Mastercard, Visa, and PayPal should stay neutral and continue funneling funds to them,” or
  2. “Wikileaks is great, but Mastercard, Visa, and PayPal are fully justified in cutting them off.”

Business Ethics and the “New York Times” Rule

On Monday, the front page of the New York Times featured at story about financial firms adjusting the timing of bonuses in response to anticipated changes in tax laws. I mention this story not because of the particular ethical issues involved, but because it was featured on the front page of The Times. How would you like your decision-making subject to that kind of scrutiny?

From some perspectives, ethics is simple: “do the right thing.” For others (especially for philosophers like myself) it is incredibly complex, involving an ongoing centuries-old debate between arcane theories like deontology, utilitarianism, social contract theory, virtue theory, and others. In-between, we see lots of bits of ethical wisdom bundled into rules of thumb for ethical decision-making. Some of them are useful, some are misleading.

The one I’d like to discuss briefly today is the so-called “Front Page of the Newspaper” test, or sometimes “The New York Times Rule.” In one of its standard versions, it gets stated this way: “never do anything you wouldn’t want to see reported on the front page of the New York Times.” Some versions have additional qualifiers. Some, for example, say that you shouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t want to see fairly reported on the front page. That qualifier rules out slanted or malicious reporting — there are presumably plenty of fully-justifiable behaviours that we wouldn’t want to see reported in a malicious way, on the front page of the NYT or anywhere else.

The first thing to say about the Newspaper Test is that it probably is a useful heuristic. Asking the question it poses at very least serves as an opportunity to pause and ask yourself whether the action you’re about to take is one that could withstand publicity and scrutiny.

But there are two clear problems with the Newspaper Test.

One problem is that it can seem to serve as an argument against actions that are actually perfectly ethical. John Hooker, in his book Business Ethics as Rational Choice, gives this example: Imagine you’re CEO of a large corporation, and due to tough economic times you’re forced to lay off several thousand employees. Imagine that some of those employees slide into clinical depression. Others become alcoholics and end up beating their children. Lives are ruined. You probably wouldn’t want all of that reported on the front page of the NY Times, but that doesn’t mean your choice was unethical. In fact, Hooker points out, it might have been the least-bad option available. The point here is that sometimes even ethically good decisions are ones that we wouldn’t want publicized, either because their negative consequences are more visible than their positive ones, or because the reasons behind those decisions are reasons that, despite being good reasons, would be difficult or even impossible to explain.

The other problem is that it can seem to condone behaviour that is actually unethical. Most obviously, it can let you go ahead with an unethical plan if you happen either to be either generally insensitive to bad publicity or blind to subtle ethical dimensions of the question at hand. The former possibility is pretty self-explanatory: some people (and some companies) just don’t seem to care what the public thinks of them, or believe themselves to be above all need for accountability. As an example of the latter possibility (ethical blindness), picture a company sending its CEO to Washington on a private jet, with the aim of asking for money, and being utterly oblivious to the idea that the public might find this unseemly. If you don’t recognize, or care, that someone might object to your decision, then conducting the Newspaper Test isn’t going to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t.

The thing to remember about the Newspaper Test is that, like so many other catchy rules of thumb, it is at best a heuristic, and not an algorithm. It doesn’t automatically crank out an answer that is both determinate and correct. What it really is is an ‘intuition pump.’ It is a way to force yourself to ask, as part of a well-rounded ethical decision-making process, whether your decision is one that, in principle, you could defend in public. The hidden strength of the Newspaper Test lies in the notion of accountability, i.e., of having to give reasons for your actions in order to make them understandable to society at large.

Deadly Crashes, “Agency Theory” & the Challenges of Management

Sometimes for a corporation to “do the right thing” requires excellent execution of millions of tasks by thousands of employees. It thus requires not just good intentions, but good management skills, too.

For an example, consider the story of the crash of a Concorde supersonic jet a decade ago. The conditions leading up to the crash were complex, but one factor (according to the court) was negligence on the part of an aircraft mechanic. Whether (or to what extent) that mechanic’s employer is responsible for that negligence, and hence at least partly responsible for the crash, is a difficult matter.

Here’s the story Saskya Vandoorne, for CNN: Continental Airlines and mechanic guilty in deadly Concorde crash

The fiery crash that brought down a Concorde supersonic jet in 2000, killing 113 people, was caused partially by the criminal negligence of Continental Airlines and a mechanic who works for the company, a French court ruled Monday.

Continental Airlines was fined 202,000 euros ($268,400) and ordered to pay 1 million euros to Air France, which operated the doomed flight.

Mechanic John Taylor received a fine of 2,000 euros ($2,656) and a 15-month suspended prison sentence for involuntary manslaughter….

I don’t know the details of this story well enough to have any sense of whether the mechanic in this case really did act negligently. But what intrigues me, here, is the issue of corporate culpability. Note the difficulty faced by airline executives who (for the sake of argument) want desperately to achieve 100% efficiency and never, ever to risk anyone’s life. In order to achieve those goals, executives have to organize and motivate hundreds or perhaps thousands of employees. They need to design and administer a chain of command and a set of working conditions (including a system of pay) that is as likely as possible to result in all those employees diligently doing their very best, all of the time. That challenge is the subject of an entire body of political & economic theory known as “agency theory.”

Agency theory and the various mechanisms available to motivate employees in the right direction are things that every well-trained business student knows about, because those are central challenges of managing any corporation, or even any small team. What is recognized too seldom, I think, is just how central a role agency problems play in assessing and responding to ethical challenges in particular.