The Corruption Prevention Network conference yesterday was a buzz. And what an interesting concept – a group of academics and bureaucrats in NSW State and local government with an anti-corruption mission form a voluntary association to spread the word. Committee members include people from State Forests, the NSW Audit office, shire councils and the education and health departments.

The conference, called Ethics overboard: No apologies, broadened CPN’s focus to include the ideal of ethical behaviour, a much broader and deeper subject than corruption, and is seeking to spread its broaden its membership base to include people in the private sector and maybe even journalists! Speakers included Peter Riordan from the Australian Securities Commission (ASIC), NSW deputy director of public prosecutions Greg Smith and Mal Brammer from the Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC). Some speeches are already online at corruptionprevention

The promotion of disciplined, consistent and uncorrupted decision-making seem to fall largely to Auditor-Generals and internal auditors these days, a sidelight to our fixation with dollar signs and the free market. It is accountants who, in keeping with the strict discipline of their professions, are open to be convinced that, for example, environmental costs should be taken into account in woodchipping and minerals exploration calculations, and when they are, to quantify such costs and pressure bureaucracies to include them in their cost-benefit analyses.

The network attracted double the usual attendees and was booked out early. I was surprised by the almost religious fervour of some speakers and their use of citations from thinkers on human nature, including Shakespeare, in their presentations. Although practitioners of ethical corporate governance and corruption prevention in big organisations are used to being fobbed off with fine words and no action, and to relying on other isolated people in other organisations for support, there was a sense of hope yesterday that this was a time when real progress might be made.

Anyway, I’m going to try to join the network, partly because the conference vibe made me better understand the conclusion of Daniel Boase-Jelinek’s ethics email this week:

Daniel Boase-Jelinek

I suggest that the problem with encouraging ethical behaviour is not that people don’t know what it (ethics) is, but that they don’t know how to respond without losing their jobs.

… A couple of years ago I was invited to run a workshop for Environmental Engineering students at the University of WA. Environmental Engineers face ethical dilemmas all the time because their employers generally are companies that wish to promote projects that inevitably cause environmental destruction, and the environmental engineers are being used to justify this destruction and put a public relations gloss on it.

I (worked) through a whole lot of issues with these idealistic students, searching with them to find a balance between protecting their integrity while keeping their jobs.

The outcome that they arrived at was that people working alone as whistle-blowers rarely survive … and rarely succeed in getting their message out.

The students realised that the only alternative to becoming cynical was to work very hard to develop a community of support within and outside the organisation and to search collaboratively for ways to protect their integrity.

***

My speech was a work in progress greatly assisted by your ideas – thank you. I’m hoping to work it up into a piece for the paper.

***

To end a week of remembering September 11, 2001, reflections by Liz McEachern-Hall, an Australian in Boston who wrote to Webdiary the day after the catastrophe, and David Eastwood. To end, John Wojdylodiscusses ethics and redemption. Have a great weekend.

***

Liz McEachern-Hall in Boston, September 13, 2001

I have thought about responding to some of the comments in this Webdiary from SMH readers and after reading some of the reactions to the carnage in the US I feel compelled to act.

I currently live in Boston with my American husband and the impact of the last few days has certainly been felt in this area. It is hard not to feel vulnerable or afraid. As I write there has been an evacuation of a section of the downtown area in Boston with FBI and police on the scene searching for alleged suspects in the attacks. There are SWAT team members surrounding the area and much confusion on the streets.

I appreciate some of the comments that have come from SMH readers concerning the welfare of the victims and extending thoughts and prayers. In addition some of the sensible responses have shown how great my country is and how great an understanding it has of world issues.

However for those few who have suggested that the US deserves what it has been through I have this to say. You have no concept of what it must be like for people living here and particularly for those in New York City. At one point I had lost a friend down there, but thankfully he is OK.

I may not be an American citizen, but I certainly don’t stand around and think, “Well, they deserve this”. No one does. Just because you live far away doesn’t give you the right to judge my husband, my friends or anyone else.

I am a patriotic Aussie through and through and miss home terribly, especially at a time like this. However, this is my location and situation right now and I see this tragedy as an opportunity for the world community to come together and look beyond nationality, race or religion to help others.

If you want to do something constructive try donating some blood to help the victims, rather than donating your words.

Liz McEachern-Hall in Boston, September 12, 2002

Imagine my surprise when reading smh.com.au this morning to find my letter reprinted for the first anniversary of September 11. I re-read it with mixed feelings. So much has happened since then and in some ways my thoughts have changed.

The tone of the letter was one of sadness mixed with anger and resentment for the comments that had been written by other fellow Australians. I was proud of my husband and other Americans who had used this tragedy as a means to reach out to others in their grief, and I felt that the negative reactions of others were not warranted at such a time.

Reflecting on this time now, I see many different points of view that the emotions of that day had blinded me to before. When you are in the heart of the event it is often hard to think beyond that.

In the lead up to this anniversary I have been thinking a lot about Americans and Australians. How we see each other, the relationship between our countries and our culture. Being married to an American you share different ideas and opinions but you learn to make those a benefit and not a hinderance.

Living in the United States you see how Americans think, what matters to them and how they think of themselves. Emerging from the first anniversary of September 11 is a new wave of thought among some of the American population. People are trying to understand why countries dislike them so much. They are seeing the materialism of what they produce and the ignorance of the government in past decisions, particularly relating to foreign policy. They know that something needs to change but it isn’t going to happen overnight.

I often read the anti-US letters printed in the Herald and become upset and frustrated. But then I look at they way America uses, and often abuses, its position and power and I know that there is justification in their statements.

I feel there is ignorance on both sides. Australians seem to think Americans are very much like their TV shows, while Americans often don’t know where Australia is or who runs the country. Australia sees everything from distant place, while Americans are in the middle of things they don’t even realise.

My concern is for the images and stereotypes that both nations continue to believe. Regardless of what George Bush does or what John Howard says, neither of these politicians reflect the true nature of what it is like to stand proudly under the Southern Cross or sing the Star Spangled banner. They don’t represent the struggling farmer in NSW or the firefighter in Washington D.C.

In a time of fear and uncertainty it is easy to play the blame game. I don’t agree with a lot of what Bush or Howard do, but I won’t assume that my fellow Australians or the people I work with in the US agree with everything they are doing.

My husband and I plan on returning to Australia to live in the next couple of years. When the time comes I hope he will received warmly, not constantly interrogated about his country’s past and policies. We are all proud of where we come from and of who we are. Let’s not lose sight of the fact that we are individuals and should not be tarnished with the same brush as those who might be making decisions on behalf of the whole.

I work at a radio station in Boston and it has been a long day here – requests, commercial free for most of the day, just letting listeners say what they feel and hear what inspires and comforts them most. I think the general feeling is that once tomorrow comes there will be more moving forward and looking to the future and what can be done to make it better. Hopefully this will become a reality for the American people.

Thanks for providing somewhere for people to comment freely.

***

David Eastwood in Sydney

At my place I was torn watching the 9/11 ceremonies last night, sitting on exactly the same lounge I was a year before, doing essentially what I was doing back then. I recall thinking at the time that America can only learn and grow from the tragedy of these attacks.

I found yesterday’s Ground Zero ceremony compelling. Simple, subtle, understated and sincere. The litany of names drew me in, reminding me of the stark, dispassionate grief of Camus Plague on one hand, and, counterpointing the photographs held aloft by weeping loved ones, driving home the tragedy, reality and humanity of the event. That this occurred in that most overstated, brash, boastful and complex of cities is the biggest tribute I could imagine to those who died.

Cut to Washington. Monumental staging, podium speeches and bunting, overbearing images of flags waving, even cheers for the speakers. Reminiscent of a Nazi party rally circa 1936. Sugary, soppy and musically simplistic tribute songs reminiscent of the meaningless dirge that accompanies the credits in a disposable Hollywood film, slotted into the program designed in a way to maintain momentum and audience effect.

Warmongering speeches focusing as much on the political agenda of the day, the vested interests of those in power and the military and sending messages to the bad guys as it was on remembering the fallen. Cynical, heartless, crass and programmed mock sincerity, an insult to the memory of those who died there, not so much as serving the nation but just doing their jobs.

I’m with Ted (The Cheesification of 9-11-02 at yahoo)

I sometimes wonder whether America has learnt or forgotten a lesson from these events.

***

Schein-Ethics and the Loss of Human Capital

By John Wojdylo

Something Ross Gittins mentioned in his article cited in Your Ethics (smh) touches on an ethical fault line – two entirely different conceptions of ethics that are always present and inexorably colliding – that runs through our society, especially in its recent incarnation. I’d like to try to put a finger on it.

What he says about impulse-motivated crimes and punishment reminds me of aphorisms about alcoholism: “Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.” “You never stop being an alcoholic, you can only ever stop drinking.” What have these aphorisms got to do with ethics?

For Bruce Russell, a former Sydney writer, the term “alcoholic” is a personality type, not necessarily anything to do with drinking. It is somebody who – by nature, genetic make-up, upbringing, whatever – is blessed with incessant craving. As in a sort of twisting force that bends your entire being in excruciating directions, and triggers impulses to do things that are not necessarily good. For yourself or for anyone. I believe it’s related to what Sartre called “anguish”.

Alcoholics who seek help – or anybody given to substance abuse – are taught to confront the reality of their dependency, and to resist the impulse to have a drink. They make a pact with themselves to put up a fight, to enter into a lifelong battle of mind versus body. If they succeed in keeping away from the bottle for a long time, it doesn’t mean they’re cured, it means they have crawled out of a hole into which they can fall back at any time.

I guess there’s some sympathy for the plight of the alcoholic in our society, and there’s some agreement that this is the way to overcome their illness. I suspect that there’s a strong reluctance for anybody to divulge their alcoholism problem to others (such as employers) when, in a rational world, it would be helpful – and the reason is that in our society, it’s better to hide your flaws: people fear they will get branded with these forever, and will be judged by them.

But what if the term “alcoholic” is taken in the broader sense used by Bruce Russell? Camus would say that this person, after staying away from the “bottle” for a decent amount of time, has proven their “virtue”. Camus advocated that people ought to be given the chance to prove their virtue. If they succeed, it’s pointless – from this ethical position – to jail them for a crime they committed before they understood their condition and chose to fight it. Moreover, since they have their “alcoholism” under control, they’re not going to repeat their crime – which means we jail them not for their own good, but for our own reasons, such as “sending a message”, “deterrence”, “revenge”, “makes us feel better”. The issue goes to the core of what we believe about crime and punishment.

But the denial that virtue has any relevance also means we may be preventing good people from contributing to our society, not just in the context of criminal matters, but in society as a whole.(Margo: My emphasis). So Australian efforts to flower as a society misfire.

We may be riding an economic boom, but according to anecdotal evidence I have heard – naturally from (highly-placed) expats – about the way major companies (as one example) in Australia are run, the way of thinking is somehow straightjacketed. Perhaps this is related to absence from the mind-set of the concept of virtue, and the predominance of another way of thinking.

Before the Sydney Olympics, the International Herald Tribune ran a series of feature articles about Australia. Like the anecdotal evidence I heard, one articles argued that despite Australia’s undoubted successes as a wealthy and stable democracy, it was always held back somehow by something akin to a “character” flaw. As an aside – not part of any argument – the newspaper reported that on his visit to Australia in the late 1800s, Charles Darwin wrote that he believed Australia will never be as successful as the United States. He apparently did not explain what he meant, so it’s open to interpretation.

I wonder if, even way back then, Darwin sensed some habitual pattern of thought that subtracts from our ability to recognise the good that people do, and hinders our society from achieving its potential.

Naturally people have different bottom lines in what they regard as ethical behaviour; and accountability, exposing consequential dishonesty by public figures, must be pursued. But perhaps the ideas of “alcoholism” and “virtue” can help us judge whether we’re nailing a basically decent person who has put their past behind them and has a lot to contribute to society.

In the legal context, and metaphorically elsewhere, this position seems to advocate something like the following: rather than thinking purely about imposing jail sentences, allow the “alcoholic” to prove their virtue. Jail them if they fail, if they prove themselves too weak to prevent themselves from being a menace to society.

“Judge’s discretion” is supposed to reflect something like this, but judges are increasingly being hemmed in by mandatory sentencing laws and political pressure.

The virtue view is obviously radically different to the way a lot of justice issues are seen in Australia today, and to where public sentiment is heading. It’s an extremely controversial view, not least because it can be wrongly construed as “ignoring the victim”.

For example, according to this view, Archbishop Hollingsworth was right in giving the priests who confessed to ugly and psychologically damaging (to their victim) acts the chance to fight their “alcoholism” and prove that they are fit to rejoin the human race – and potentially do a lot of good.

Those that failed ought to be dealt with. The real problem with the church’s actions might turn out to be a failure, in too many cases, to follow through this “system of ethics” to its logical conclusion, and enforce punitive measures at a later stage.

Nevertheless, perhaps at the bottom of the church controversy is a misunderstanding between the church and its critics. The problem is, the virtue view does not necessarily produce a surface displaying to all and sundry that the victim is NOT being ignored. So people needing such a surface can be left empty handed, and might then demand what they see as their “right”.

Another potentially explosive example – at least, it could have provoked an uproar in Australia but didn’t – was the scenario in a German mini-series seen on SBS a few years ago called “Heimat” (Homeland), which was a hit in Germany and is also regarded there as a classic.

The main character, a lawyer, rapes a female journalist (I think that was her job). An investigation points to him as the number one suspect, and he is arrested and tried. He fights his own case. He fights tooth and nail to avoid losing, revealing a competitiveness that did not seem to be there before.

Now he understands the threat of jail – before it was just a distant abstraction that had no meaning in his life.

Now he understands the consequences of his act, only now learns what freedom is and desires it at all costs – even while feeling very little sympathy for the victim. That’s because in this film, although the victim wants justice, the more she reveals of her motives, the more the motives really seem to reduce to pure, obsessive, destructive revenge: no vision of the future, for herself or for her attacker. He is like an animal that has to be put down.

I can’t recall if the film indicated the lawyer felt remorse – but in any case, even if he did, he couldn’t have shown it to the court because that would be a public admission of guilt and he’d be put away. Of course, he couldn’t reoffend, because then DNA evidence would nail him, and he would lose his freedom. He could see that he would do a lot of good in the future (e.g. allow justice to prevail for those wrongly accused), and he had to fight for this good at all costs.

In “Heimat”, in this extraordinary and controversial twist, the perpetrator of a heinous crime fights for what we ordinarily recognise as good, while the victim – tragic in the true sense of the word – goes further and further insane.

It would be wrong to dismiss “Heimat” as a misogynist fantasy. It abstracts a historical period, and does it so well that the mini-series is widely regarded as one of the great achievements of German film in the last quarter of a century. It describes a way forward – asserting that doing good, and not succumbing to the insanity that caused the past, is possible – even when one knows one is responsible for the most brutal of acts.

Without the chance to prove virtue, this would be impossible. If crime automatically implies decades in jail, then we are branding the perpetrator with the crime, saying that their will and ability to overcome their flaws and learn from their mistakes, although perhaps admirable, plays no role in our society. The machinery, the automated responses, of a teleological justice take precedence over what is human.

We thereby subtract humanity from our society. Like alcoholism, overcoming flaws and learning from mistakes are an integral part of our society. Those that do not recognise the reality that human beings have problems that they must struggle to overcome – and who demand an absolute purity (or facade of purity) before allowing them to contribute usefully to society – are putting into practice a teleological ideal that destroys the individual and denies what is human.

They will eventually forget what this looks like, and fail to recognise it even when it’s there in front of them. Over a period of time, in a process of natural selection, the human is weeded out as too impure, leaving the teleological middle as a kind of skeleton that supports society. It instils a sense of order, “cleanliness” and closeness to what is right – a surface is promoted in society, whose currency (and usefulness as currency) can last generations.

The dark side can – and does – provide energy for positive developments. If we banish the dark side, if snow-white innocence and purity are the only measures of public acceptability, then we’re all the worse for it.

Germans under the Nazis found the impulse – in fact, the frame of mind – to do things a lot worse than molest and rape people. We gave Germany a chance to prove that it was psychologically strong enough to overcome its past. Now we deal with Germans as if nothing had happened. And rightly so.

If people caught up in substance abuse, and former enemy countries, are given such a sympathetic hearing, why this baying for mandatory sentencing? Is it like the citizen hordes of Revolutionary France calling for the guillotine?

America, too, is a “nation of immigrants”. But somehow this phrase seems more befitting the United States than Australia. Notwithstanding a few exceptions, and notwithstanding Australia’s current sizeable and orderly immigration policy, for more than a century the US has had a far more open policy towards immigrants and refugees than Australia has. That’s because it places more a priori value on human capital than Australia does, and has prospered because of it. The US – not Australia – is the number one destination for immigration.

Just one example: in Australia, Jewish refugees during World War II – many of them without proper travel documents – were placed behind barbed wire and later off-loaded to other countries; but those that arrived in the US were given visas and allowed to live normally, to contribute to society. Australians find reasons to treat with suspicion refugees whose travel documents are not in order. Once a liar, always a liar, and lying to the Taliban or the Nazis is still lying and worthy of suspicion.

In my mind, the clearest (although not the most prominent) recent example of Australia hindering its own prospects is the case of the vice-chancellor of an Australian university who was forced to resign on the grounds that he was a “plagiarist”. I followed the story as a distant observer, so I don’t know how much more there was to it than meets the eye; but if the grounds really were ethical, then the incident would be a clear example of puritanism and teleological justice (that never forgives in a hundred years) gone insane.

I want to focus on this incident, because the same pattern of thinking repeats itself every day in every aspect of Australian life.

The crisis was precipitated by an article in the London Times newspaper, which said that the VC had “admitted to plagiarism in books published in 1979 and 1983” (SMH report, July 12). According to a report in The Age, the story was instigated by the man’s former colleagues in England, who were allegedly horrified that he had become vice-chancellor in Australia after having been publicly exposed in England as a two-time plagiarist.

The Australian picked up the story and beat it up: “plagiarist” became a term of vilification, signifying terminal, inoperable ethical deficiency. It was not only as if the VC had a criminal record for “the most heinous of academic crimes”; despite punishment and “rehabilitation” – public shaming and a glitch in his career – he was being treated as eternally guilty and punishable for his crime at any moment in the future.

The VC defended himself, saying the cases had been dealt with two decade ago: the original authors had accepted his apology, and they weren’t as bothered by the scale of the crime as much as the newspapers were.

Having smelled blood, The Australian continued publishing weekly articles in its Higher Ed section, with the tone that this man must go. An editorial piously warned of the dire consequences of plagiarism to Australia’s entire university system and that it therefore must be stamped out. Many took this to mean the VC should be sacked.

A professor at that university – in fact, a professor of philosophy (which shows just how divergent views on ethics can be) – played a central role in the witch hunt, by exposing another case of plagiarism (“several passages without acknowledging the authors” – The Australian, July 13; “two passages” – SMH). This time it was two-and-a-half decades ago, in 1976. A great deal was made of the VC’s failure to confess voluntarily to this further, previously unknown instance of plagiarism in the job interview for the VC position six years before – as if job interviews are meant to be confessionals for misdeeds that occurred decades ago and that are now justifiably buried.

The allegation that “a number of other cases” of plagiarism had been brought to the chancellor’s attention appeared to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The VC’s position became “untenable” – his presence was “damaging the university’s reputation” – and he was forced to resign. His resignation was greeted with joy in some quarters at the university.

Nothing that came out in public suggested the VC plagiarised in recent years – all the instances happened in a single period two decades ago. The last two instances – at the end of the period – had been dealt with, through public exposure in England and personal apology to authors. It seems this shock was enough to make the VC understand that what he had done was wrong, and he did not plagiarise any more. He had set out to prove his virtue, for what it was worth, and he had succeeded, if only personally.

Moreover, the VC’s academic career was based on many more books than the few that had plagiarised passages. So the argument, “he only got to where he was because of plagiarism; his whole career is a sham”, does not hold. Ironically, one of his academic areas of specialisation was the social effects of alcoholism.

One academic was quoted as saying: “How can I plausibly enforce policy on plagiarism, or even straight-facedly draw it to students’ attention, until and unless the vice-chancellor resigns?” The answer is you point out that plagiarists will be exposed and shamed in public – and this is exactly what happened two decades ago with the VC. This will have adverse – but not necessarily permanent – consequences for your career, because in our thinking about justice, the punishment should fit the crime, and once you have served your sentence, we do not punish you any more – you are free to contribute to society.

Then you point out that people have a choice to resist the urge to take short cuts, and to do the right thing – or you can succumb to insanity. You can point out that our university will reward you if you prove your virtue in the face of your flaws, but will throw you out if you don’t learn from your mistake. Our university values human capital – so go out and prove your humanity.

But when no rational connection exists between what you say the reason for your action is – “enforcing policy on plagiarism” – and your actual motives, then you’ll be lost for words, and the only thing left to do is to bay for blood.

After the VC’s resignation, the Australian’s Higher Ed journalist wrote in a satisfied tone how it took the philosophy professor “just half an hour of idle research in front of the tennis” to discover the plagiarised passages. “Closing the book on a career” (the article’s headline) is such a simple matter, it can be done while lackadaisically half-concentrating on something else.

The philosophy professor was attributed in the same article as saying the VC’s departure “reinforced the integrity” of the university. “So much of academia relies on trust. Plagiarism amounts to academic theft and it is an inherently dishonest practice. Having a plagiarist as head of a university is like having an embezzler running an accounting firm.”

“Reinforcing integrity” must therefore mean something like putting on new clothes, something to show others, rather than strengthening the inner character.

The philosopher spoke in present tense. He used the word “plagiarism” in the sense of a mortal sin, or a conviction for a serious crime, that brands you for life, regardless of your success in resisting the “alcoholic” impulse, in not having succumbed to the insanity for decades. A similar attitude pervaded numerous comments on the matter, even from those who could not have had ulterior motives (rather than those that may have had).

In other words, we can look at the incident from a purely ethical viewpoint, even if the underlying motives may have been base – like revenge on the part of enemies. The ethical questions are much more widely applicable than just in this one university: they comprise a fault line that runs right through Australian society.

For even if the VC was eliminated because of his economic rationalism, and protagonists were invoking the high ground of ethics to hide their dirty linen, the fact remains that in Australia, manifestly (outwardly) “ethical behaviour” – with some sort of official determination process – holds great sway over stakeholders (the public, academia etc.). Perhaps the roots of this attitude lie in England, and the Americans shed it after their revolution.

It gives newspaper editorialists the chance to put on pious clothes and send ethically correct messages for a change. That sense of being officially OK is persuasive, so much so that in seeking credibility for their view, virtually every opponent of the VC remarked on the sinfulness of his plagiarism – in present tense.

And this is the rub with this teleological (never forgive in a hundred years) conception of ethics. As seen in the case of the VC, exactly this conception of ethical behaviour is anti-human: the philosopher’s nonchalant but irrepressible resolve to expose an unethical deed was aimed like a “Pulp Fiction” pistol shot – minimising the guilt felt at snuffing out a career while maximising potency – an act of aggression that denied the human truth of the VC’s success in maintaining for decades his will to overcome flaws in his character.

Everything is officially ridgadidge. And now we see why this conception of ethics keeps getting reborn in Australia generation after generation, possibly (if this was what Charles Darwin sensed) for over a century. A misdeed from the past can at any time be dug up and used against you, irrespective of any effort to make amends. It is effectively like a tattoo on your skin that gets covered over, only to be uncovered and displayed to the world at the convenience of your enemies.

They always claim to be acting in the name of ethics; and their claims will be persuasive because people think of the wickedness of the deed before thinking of the virtue you have achieved. Thus ethical objectives coincide with political objectives – it’s like church coinciding with state: there’s a sense of unity, of identification and empowerment of the group. This accounts for the attractiveness and longevity of this teleological conception of ethics.

But the human truth is private. Who wants to do away with the crutch of God and make decisions totally alone? Who wants to look for mitigating, human circumstances? Who is prepared to believe that proven virtue is closer to the truth about a person than the indelible tattoo of a past misdeed?

The inhumanity – the insanity – displayed in this affair dwarfs the VC’s heinous, decades-old crime of plagiarism.

If the actual grounds for the VC’s removal were political, then his opponents should admit this, instead of hiding their dirty linen behind the high ground of ethics. Of course, this would diminish the ethically correct surface projected by the university.

What did Australia lose? One academic – obviously not an enemy of the VC – said: “I believe he is one of the small number of outstanding vice-chancellors in Australia and possibly the best of our time. In my view, he presented us with an inspirational vision which did not try to emulate other universities, but rather envisaged a university of its own making, to its core a university of quality. … I’m one who believes that his going is a loss to the university.”

Perhaps there is a grain of truth in this. But even if the VC was a rampaging economic rationalist of the worst kind, and deserved to go because he was destroying arts and philosophy departments, then Australia has lost something.

Because then, political conspirators hid behind the pure white clothes of ethics. By invoking a teleological notion of ethics that diverts attention from human mitigating circumstances and proven virtue while focussing on the heinous misdeed, they have further cemented a way of thinking that repeatedly makes Australia’s efforts to flower as a society misfire. For one thing, this ethical system gives the green light to witch hunts carried out under the cloak of civility.

Australia has lost a measure of its ability to value human capital.

Postscript: For those with time on their hands, I’d recommend the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, plato. Click on the link, “Search Encyclopedia”, and type “ethics”. You’ll get articles by the best philosophers about anything from lesbian ethics to teleological ethics.

Margo: It was weird reading this piece, as I began my speech with the confession of a terrible ethical breach I perpetrated just after I started work at the Herald. I agreed to pose as a colleague’s aunt to enrol him in a high school under false pretences so he could do a piece on youth culture. Until the project was leaked to someone in NSW Parliament and exposed, I did not know there was a journalist’s code of ethics, or that I could refuse my boss’s requests on ethical grounds. The scandal was the beginning of my interest in ethics and their purpose.