Chapter 3
Ethical Issues for Society


In this chapter, we focus on those issues that affect society as a whole. Given that most of us are members of a society, they will also affect each of us directly or indirectly. We will, again, see how ethical theory can inform our understanding of moral problems, make the problems themselves more explicit, and help us attempt to resolve them.

3.1
 The Death Penalty


The death penalty, as practiced in the United States, has been the source of political and religious controversy for many years. After looking at the arguments themselves, we will look at the issue from the perspective of deontological ethics. Here, perhaps surprisingly, one can use the deontological perspective to argue both sides of the issue, indicating that one simply can't apply a theory to an issue and expect the correct answer to result: it isn't like putting two numbers into a calculator and pressing the "addition" button.
The Issue: The Death Penalty Should Be Abolished

The death penalty, as practiced in the United States, raises questions both about its morality and its effectiveness. Here we will examine both sides of the death penalty debate to help clarify what is at stake.
The argument against abolishing the death penalty

Some would say that a murderer has given up his right to life by taking someone else's. Do you agree or disagree?

Human beings have rights that no one can deprive them of, according to many political theorists. Perhaps the best–known version of this claim is that found in the Declaration of Independence: "We hold these truths to be self–evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights." An unalienable right is one that a person can never have taken away, by another person or by a government. Thomas Jefferson offered as his examples of such rights "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Thus, to murder another person is to deprive that person of his or her life, and society has the obligation to punish that person in such a way that its commitment to this fundamental right is made clear. In other words, if a murderer is not punished harshly, it might seem that the government doesn't regard murder as the kind of crime that deserves the most serious punishment. Because the death penalty seems to be the most serious punishment available, the government has not just the right but the obligation to impose the death penalty on murderers. This way, the murderer is punished, and the commitment to the right to life is reaffirmed. For this reason, some have argued that the death penalty is a symbol of a society's respect for life, and of the humanity of the victim and the murderer.

The death penalty is often associated with the electric chair, although other execution methods are also used today. This print depicts the execution of William Kemmler, the first man to be executed by electrocution. Kemmler allegedly "chopped a woman to bits with an axe." Three surges of current were needed.

It may seem odd to think that the death penalty indicates respect for the murderer; how is a person shown respect by being executed? The point is that society can only function if all of the people who live in that society live by certain rules. It seems like a good rule for a society that its members not kill each other. If someone violates that rule, he or she strikes at the very heart of what makes that society possible. By murdering a member of society, a person shows that he or she doesn't really belong in that society; this person has forfeited the right to live among other people. We show our respect for the murderer's humanity by recognizing that he or she, at one point, possessed the same right to life as everyone else. By taking another's life, the murderer has given up that right. In that way, we recognize the dignity of the murderer by imposing the death penalty: we show what the murderer had, and what the murderer gave up, by taking away the right of another person, namely, the victim. Just as a murderer treats the victim as if that victim didn't deserve to live, society must insist that those who act in such a way forfeit their own right to live.

Furthermore, when society reaffirms the sanctity of life by executing those who unjustly take a person's life, it also sends a message to others. If people see that the price to be paid for murdering someone is the loss of one's own life, then that will prevent at least some of those people from taking that step. The death penalty thus serves as a deterrent. When functioning efficiently, the deterrent effect of the death penalty will lead to fewer people committing such crimes.

The death penalty affirms the humanity of the victim and the murderer. It also sends a clear message to everyone else in society that the right to life is so fundamental that one who takes another's life will forfeit his or her own life. Finally, what other punishment might be appropriate for someone already in prison who kills someone? Therefore, the only moral response is not to abolish the death penalty, but to keep it.
The argument for abolishing the death penalty

There are a number of good and sufficient reasons to abolish the death penalty. It has been applied in a way that reflects racial, class, and ethnic bias; it is too expensive; innocent people have almost certainly been executed; it isn't effective at deterring future murders; its use is barbaric, and puts the United States in company with other countries whose values we often deplore; and many religious leaders and many religions reject the death penalty. But here we will focus on the moral question of executing a human being.

Killing another human being is wrong. Assuming Thomas Jefferson is correct, and certain rights cannot be taken away, then the right to life cannot be taken away. A murderer has, of course, violated one of the fundamental roles of society by violating another person's right to life. Does that justify the state in depriving the murderer of his or her life? If so, then the right to life can be taken away, which would mean it is not inalienable; if not, and the right to life is inalienable, then the state is violating the murderer's right to life. A right cannot be both inalienable and alienable; that is a contradiction, and such a claim cannot be true. Thus, the state has to determine if such a right to life can be taken away, and under what circumstances. But if killing a human being is wrong, and the death penalty is the intentional killing of a human being, then isn't it wrong? Or is the murderer, by having murdered, no longer a human being? Yet the United States recognizes that we cannot torture the murderer because that would violate the murderer's constitutional rights. So if the murderer has some rights, presumably he or she is a human being. We seem to have yet another contradiction, that the murderer is a human being and is not a human being.

Too often those in favor of the death penalty assume those who oppose it are "soft" on criminals, and almost act as if they are advocating that the murderer not be punished at all. Of course, this is a very inaccurate description of the argument put forth by those opposing the death penalty. Rather, they argue that life imprisonment without possibility of parole is a good substitute for the death penalty. This alternative punishment can be supported for several reasons. It removes the murderer from society, and thus serves the function of protecting the members of society from that threat. Life in prison—again, without the possibility of parole—is at least as much a deterrent as the death penalty: presumably, someone thinking about murdering another would think at least as long about the consequences of spending 30, 40, or 50 years in prison as he or she would about being executed. It avoids the potential problem we saw arise, when the state insists that killing a human being is wrong and demonstrates it by killing a human being. Finally, it avoids the potential of discovering that an innocent person has been executed; a mistake that, for obvious reasons, is difficult to fix.

Some would argue that life imprisonment is just as much a deterrent as the death penalty and is preferable for a number of reasons. Do you agree or disagree?

In general terms, then, all human life has dignity and deserves respect. If that dignity and respect is part of what it means to be a human being, it cannot be taken away from someone, no matter how horrendous or evil the act a person does. In other words, the respect for human life is inalienable and can never be taken away from someone. Society shows its true respect for human life by abolishing the death penalty; as Sister Helen Prejean once said, we are all more than the worst we have ever done. Executing a person says otherwise.

The state has an obligation to capture and punish those who break its rules, even its most fundamental rules, such as not killing other members of society. But it can carry out that obligation without employing the death penalty, thus punishing those who deserve it while revealing its genuine commitment to the right to life and its respect for human dignity.

To put this into a more concrete example, James's ex–wife, Lisa, has remarried another man, Frank. James is extremely jealous, and, after careful planning, murders Frank. In spite of that planning, James is caught, convicted of first-degree murder, and sentenced to death. Would James have been deterred from murdering Frank if he "only" faced 50 years in prison, without the possibility of parole? Would he, or others like him, have only been deterred by the possibility that he be executed, while knowing that not all those so sentenced are, in fact, executed? Does society gain more respect for life and human dignity by seeing the legal system declare that James can never be anything other than a murderer, and that there is no other solution for someone like James than to execute him? Had James been wealthier, could he have been able to afford a better attorney, who might have been able to make sure James avoided the death penalty? If so, would that mean that the state regards James's human dignity as depending on the size of his bank account, not on who he is or what he did?

Society can protect itself, punish those who violate its rules, punish most harshly those who violate its most important rules, and maintain its commitment to the dignity of human life without resorting to the capital punishment. Therefore, the only moral response is to abolish the death penalty.
The Theories

As we have seen, deontology is an ethical view that insists the morality of an act be evaluated in terms of certain rules or obligations, and whether the act in question conforms to those rules. This distinguishes it from consequentialist views, such as utilitarianism, which evaluates the morality of an act in terms of its consequences or results. This is not to say that the deontologist thinks acts do not have consequences. It just means that those consequences don't play a role in evaluating whether the act was morally good, morally bad, morally praiseworthy, morally blameworthy, etc.

An engraving of eighteenth–century German philosopher Immanuel Kant, who was a strong death penalty advocate and would have argued retributivism: a murderer must be punished in accordance to his crime.

In considering the debate we have just seen, deontology presents a peculiar result, relative to the issue of the death penalty. The most famous deontologist, we know, is Immanuel Kant. Kant was a strong advocate of the death penalty and gave forceful arguments, based on his deontological views of ethics, in favor of the death penalty. But other deontologists have used the same basic ethical perspective to argue against the death penalty. In fact, if someone says, "I'm a deontologist," you really don't have enough information to predict whether that person is for or against the death penalty. This is a good reminder that ethics may help us understand moral questions better, but you can't simply "plug in" the problem and hope the theory "spits out" the right answer.

Kant's argument is very similar to the previous argument in favor of keeping the death penalty. Kant is pretty clear about this, stating that if someone murders another person, "he must die." This is known as retributivism—a theory of punishment that would have the one who does something wrong be punished proportionately to the wrong that is done. On Kant's view, this is a requirement of justice. The murderer, by violating another person's rights (in this case, to live), forfeits his or her own right to live. For Kant, and this particular way of applying deontological principles, reason demands that the murderer be executed. Kant believes this shows the state's commitment to the respect for human dignity. A bit more informally, Kant thinks that retributivism functions in a way similar to those punishments based on the Hebrew Bible's "an eye for an eye" principle of punishment. He believes that the only way people can see how fundamentally immoral it is to violate the rule against murder is to see that if one person kills another, the killer must give up his or her own life.

This is a pretty popular argument and makes sense to many people who insist that anyone who thinks he or she can kill another person should have to pay the ultimate price. After all, the Golden Rule would seem to say I shouldn't kill another person if I don't want another person to kill me. Anyone who rejects this lacks something essential and shouldn't be permitted to live. It is important, by the way, to see the role of deterrence in this argument. The utilitarian might argue that the death penalty deters other potential murderers, and that benefit produces the greatest good for the greatest number and is, therefore, morally correct. Kant seems to agree that capital punishment may well have a deterrent effect, but, in line with his deontological view, this consequence cannot play any role for justifying it. If anything, any deterrence effect the death penalty might have is just an added bonus.

Other deontologists, interestingly enough, have argued for precisely the opposite conclusion. We have, more or less, seen the argument in the preceding debate, but we can now put it in the more precise, theoretical language of deontology.

Other deontologists agree with Kant that human dignity should be respected but extend that argument to the murderer as well: all humans have worth and should be treated with respect.

Those who argue against the death penalty accept Kant's claim that human beings possess dignity and share his insistence that human dignity should be respected. They reject, however, Kant's retributivism and focus on another of Kant's claims, that people should never be treated solely as a means to an end but should always be treated as ends in themselves. In other words, to treat another person as some kind of object, or in a way that doesn't recognize the worth of that person, is to treat that person as a means. For instance, if someone needs money, stealing from another person is to treat the victim as a means to the goal (getting money); such behavior is prohibited by Kant's own ethical principles.

The deontologist who rejects capital punishment regards that punishment as treating the human being as a means to an end (in this case, presumably, that end is justice). For this deontologist, then, even a murderer has some degree of humanity that must be respected. On this view, it is pretty clear we don't respect that human dignity by killing the human possessing it.

This result isn't entirely unusual, by the way. Two people who claim to be working from the same ethical perspective may resolve a given situation quite differently. They may, for instance, apply the theory in a different way, or they may describe the moral issue involved in ways that result in different analyses. There is a little of both going on here. But the sticking point seems to be what the status is of the murderer: Is he or she still a human being? Kant seems to argue that the murderer has forfeited that part of his or her human dignity that must be respected, by committing an act of murder. Those opposing this result seem to argue that even in committing murder, the murderer still possesses human dignity, and that dignity cannot be violated. Making clear where we come down on this question—whether we are obligated to treat the murderer with any degree of respect—helps make much clearer what we conclude when we apply a deontological analysis to the question of the death penalty.
Some Conclusions

Probably the most obvious outcome of our discussion of the death penalty is that deontology doesn't really provide an obvious answer. We might be happier if everyone agreed that capital punishment is right, or that capital punishment is wrong. But, as we have seen, ethics just doesn't work that way. As we have also seen, however, this kind of theory can provide a bit more rigor to our understanding of the problem, and can help make clear—or at least clearer—what is at stake in the debate.

One could take our results and use them to recommend pursuing another approach. Unfortunately, utilitarians also don't agree on the death penalty. Even though they may accept the fundamental idea of doing what creates the greatest good for the greatest number, utilitarians disagree sharply on whether capital punishment does, or doesn't, do so.

We can also, however, add to our theoretical analysis to make our ethical points have a bit more substance. Some argue that there is a clear case that the death penalty has a deterrence effect. This evidence would not justify its use for the deontologist, but it might strengthen the overall case. Others, of course, argue that there is no demonstrated deterrence effect, and thus might reject that argument.

Death Penalty

In this video, three experts discuss the new and changing points emphasized by those who defend and who reject the death penalty.

A traditional argument has also been that it is more cost–effective to execute people than to imprison them for life. Yet, as it turns out, on the current procedure used to impose capital punishment, it is more expensive to execute someone than to imprison that person for forty years. Decreasing the numbers of appeals available to the convicted murder might lower this cost. But some argue that innocent people have already been executed, and that if there are fewer chances to appeal, it is likely that more innocent people will be executed. Some advocates of the death penalty regard this as a price society is willing to pay; however, others suggest that one who is in the position of being executed of a crime he or she did not commit might see things otherwise.

One interesting development in the discussion of the death penalty is the argument that a significant factor in determining whether someone found guilty of murder receives the death penalty is race— the race of the murder victim, not the race of the murderer. In a well–known analysis, legal theorist David Baldus argued that someone who murdered a white person was more than four times more likely to receive the death penalty than someone who murdered an African American. Although his results have found many critics and many supporters, one might supplement an argument against the death penalty by drawing on these results to show that the death penalty is not applied fairly. If it is applied unfairly, then it may be arbitrary enough to be rejected as "cruel and unusual," and prohibited by the Eighth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Of course, the deontologist might well wish to use this kind of argument to indicate that those subject to the death penalty are not being treated equally under the law and, as such, aren't given equal respect for their human dignity.

As is so often the case, we see that ethical theory can deepen our analysis and understanding of various ethical problems, although it rarely solves them. But theories can also be used in conjunction with other material and other reasons, to strengthen one's position.
Where Do We Go from Here?

What lessons can we draw from this debate? There seem to be many, but the one that seems to emerge above all is that this debate will continue. During the course of the debate among religious leaders, lawyers, philosophers, and others, the argument has gotten much more rigorous and much more sophisticated. The argument itself has helped make much clearer what is at stake. The debate also helps focus the issue better and allows us to see what kinds of evidence might make a position stronger and what kind of evidence might make a position weaker.

One implication drawn by some who write on capital punishment is to consider the use of the death penalty in the United States and in other countries. These authors argue that the countries that have abolished the death penalty—England, France, Germany, and Japan, for instance–are precisely the countries the United States tends to compare itself to in many other categories, such as level of education, health care, women's rights, economic development, and personal freedom. Yet the countries that employ the death penalty are generally those that the United States does not regard as sharing similar values, such countries as Iran, the Democratic Republic of Congo, North Korea, and Yemen. Of course, one might respond that the United States is different in very specific ways from Western Europe and Japan as well as from the Third World dictatorships. It is an interesting experiment to look at the commitment various countries make to human dignity and to what extent the United States shares that value. The deontologist won't solve the problem, as we have seen, but one might use this kind of comparison to make the analysis more complete.
What Is the Relationship Between Religion and the State?
What Would You Do?

Your next–door neighbor, whose son was killed fighting in Afghanistan, asks you to sign a petition against the building of an Islamic mosque and cultural center in town. You know three other neighbors whose children died fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, but you also work with, and are good friends with, a Muslim woman whose son died fighting with the U.S. Marines in Iraq. Your neighbors regard the mosque as a painful reminder of the deaths of their children and as a symbol of Islam; your co–worker is an enthusiastic supporter of the building of the mosque and hopes that it will help non–Muslims understand and appreciate Islam.

• Do you sign the petition?

• If so, what would you tell your co–worker if she asks you why you did?

• If not, what do you tell your next–door neighbor when you decline to sign it?

Would you sign the petition? Why or why not?

Few beliefs are as personal, as significant, and as profound as spiritual beliefs are for religious people. The Bill of Rights recognizes this by prohibiting government interference with religion, whether by establishing a religion, indicating the preference for a religion, or preventing religious expression. Yet, historically, many examples have arisen where an individual's, or a group's, religious beliefs and practices are in conflict with the laws or community standards of the larger society. Polygamy and ritualistic drug use in certain Native American religious ceremonies have conflicted with the law; atheists have objected to what they regard as state endorsement of religion by such things as the phrase "In God We Trust" on legal currency; some religious people object equally to being prevented from being allowed to display, on public property, Nativity scenes—crèches—at Christmas. These are difficult issues to resolve, for they involve the conflict between personal expressions of faith and the obligation of the state to treat everyone fairly and in accordance with the Constitution.

A related issue has more recently been seen in some political races. Roman Catholic politicians have been told, or threatened, that they will not be allowed to take communion if they support, or continue to support, laws that make abortion legal. Such a politician may well be presented with the choice between religion and public service. The right to an abortion is, with certain restrictions, legal in the United States. A politician may well argue that he or she can do more good for the community by serving in a political capacity, and might even be more effective in curtailing the number of abortions performed by doing so. Can one remain a member of a church, in good standing, while serving in a position that supports views that contradict those of his or her church?

Some have taken considerably more extreme action on the basis of religious beliefs. For instance, some who are convinced that abortion is the taking of an innocent human life—that abortion is murder—have gone on to murder abortion providers themselves. Presumably, the position here is more or less utilitarian, proceeding on the idea that killing one abortion provider saves many more lives than not killing the abortion provider. From this perspective, the view seems to be that it is just to kill someone who the killer regards as a mass murderer (the abortionist). Yet clearly the state has an obligation to protect its citizens who are not violating the law; the abortion provider was not doing anything illegal.

Traditionally, society has rejected the idea of "taking the law into one's own hands," or what is sometimes called "vigilante justice." Given the anger and other passions involved, the law insists that justice is much better served, and thus society much better protected, by following standard, socially endorsed procedures, using trials, judges, juries, and the like.

As we saw earlier, some people regard the rules of society as so wrong that they feel compelled to leave that society. Generally, however, some degree of compromise has to be struck. Society is a collection of individuals; it grants and protects those individuals their rights. At the same time, each individual plays a number of different roles in that society, and much of what makes up that individual is his or her various roles in society. If you stop and think about the various things that constitute your identity—as a parent or child (or both), in your occupation, with your friends, and in all your various interests and any organizations to which you belong—they all represent a part of who you are. Certainly religion plays an important role here for many people.

This issue leads to complex questions in social theory, revolving around the relationship that exists between an individual and society. Is society nothing more than a collection of individuals, many or most of whom have a number of competing interests? Or are individuals really abstractions from society; in other words, is society the fundamental notion from which we get our various self–conceptions through the vast array of networks within which we live? We won't be able to decide this issue here, of course, but it is worth thinking about that relationship. As we will see, many questions about individual rights will have as an important component the social context of those rights.

But even here, we can see that living in society requires a set of trade–offs; I have to accept certain kinds of things that I may find offensive and objectionable, just as others may find me—or at least some things I do— offensive and objectionable. In a certain way, of course, this resembles the Golden Rule in a social context: we all agree to tolerate certain ways of living, and we expect our way of living also to be tolerated.

When the limits of tolerance are reached, however, controversy arises, and religious beliefs—and a lack of religious beliefs—often seem to be at the forefront of many such controversies. Here, again, we have to do a balancing act, and ethics can help us determine what the appropriate balance is. In some cases, one simply cannot expect society to tolerate certain kinds of behaviors; in other cases, perhaps society's level of tolerance can be re–adjusted. Drawing the line between what should be and what should not be permitted is often very difficult, but it is clear that the study of ethics provides essential information in trying to decide where it should be drawn.

3.2
 Ethical Issues in Doing Business with Other Countries


With the accelerated pace of globalization, corporations find themselves doing business in many different countries, and they confront laws and customs that may be very different than those in their home country. What kinds of issues arise here, between the moral views that conflict between a corporation and another country in which it wants to do business? We will look at some of these conflicts from the perspective of relativism and utilitarianism.
The Issue: Conflicts Between a Company and Its Host Country

If a company wishes to do business in another country, should it simply accept that country’s laws and traditions? What if those laws and traditions fundamentally conflict with the company’s own principles? Does it abandon its principles, should it choose not to do business in that country, or is there a third option available?
The argument for adopting the host country's laws and customs

American companies that wish to do business in another country have to recognize that the other country may well have very different views about all sorts of things. Simply put, some things viewed in the United States as "rights," and even as "inalienable rights," may not be looked at in the same way in other countries. Some nations prevent access to various kinds of information in books, films, or Internet content. Furthermore, some countries may have cultural standards—about the treatment of women, ethnic minorities, and religion—that are quite different from the standards that prevail in the United States.

Some would say that doing business in another country means accepting and adjusting to accommodate their values, customs, and laws. When have you had to adjust to other cultures, even within your own community?

A company that wishes to do business in another country can't expect that country to change. A company that wants to do business, and profit by being in that country, must be willing to make the necessary adjustments to its social values, cultural traditions, and laws. Such adjustments may be relatively modest: different foods, different dress, a different understanding of relations between men and women, often a different language, and, more generally, a different way of doing things. To do business in England, we couldn't very well object to driving on the side of the road opposite to the side we drive on in the United States. If we do business in Japan, we may have to get used to taking off our shoes when entering someone's house. If a company wishes to benefit from business in Kuwait, it will insist that its employees be familiar with the fact that it is illegal to drink alcohol and eat pork there. Some countries have less strict controls than the United States on what people can read, such as pornography, whereas other countries have much stricter controls.

Simply put, if a company wants to do business in another country, it has to recognize that it must play by that country's rules. Imagine, for instance, an Internet–based company that wants to do business in a country whose government censors the Internet and demands that it have access to the personal accounts of its citizens. This government doesn't want its citizens reading or watching material it regards as dangerous, whether as a threat to national security or simply because it might damage the moral values of the country. In this country, government regards the ability to access citizens' Internet accounts and to keep track of what its citizens are reading and writing simply as part of the way it governs. In the United States, this perspective, of course, would be regarded as a gross violation of privacy and none of the government's business.

We may not like the way the other country operates, but that isn't really what is at issue. Rather, if we want to do business there, we have to accept the laws of that country. The company, that is, must make a decision to "trade off" its ethical and political concerns for the benefits of doing business in that other country. If the payoff is significant, and the company will make substantial profits, not to make this trade–off would be irresponsible. It would also not be doing what the shareholders demand, namely, a return on their investment.

Some would argue that a company’s primary obligation is to secure a profit, which means making the necessary allowances for cultural differences.

These issues aren't always just legal questions, of course. Perhaps one wishes to do business in a country where women aren't allowed to work in offices with men. In this case, the company has to recognize that the cost of doing business is to not hire women to work in its offices. Perhaps one wishes to do business in a country where standard practice is to take a three–hour lunch break in the middle of the day. Here the company, again, has to recognize that it will have to adjust to this practice, if it wishes to gain access to this country and the benefits it offers. And if this company refuses to take advantage of these benefits, this is an opportunity its competitors may well exploit and use against it.

There will, undoubtedly, be minor adjustments that any company has to make, in adapting to a different set of laws and cultural standards, and there may be major adjustments as well. But the general point seems clear: a company that wishes to do business in another country has to do so on that country's terms. No one is forcing the company to do business there, but if that is the company’s choice, the rules that are in effect are those of the host country. The company is certainly within its rights, after becoming informed of both the legal and cultural standards of the other country, to decide against doing business there. But it is acting irresponsibly if it fails to fulfill its fundamental mission—to return a profit on investment—by refusing to go along with the standards of the host country. Its business, of course, is business; it is not a company's role to try to change laws, or even cultural standards, not to its liking. To do what it should, in fulfilling its obligation as a business, it must accept the laws and standards of the host country.
The argument for resisting the host country's laws and customs

A company may be confronted with a stark choice: to violate its own moral principles to promote its business or to lose some business and remain faithful to its own ethical standards. This can often be a difficult choice, particularly if the business opportunity offers great benefits. But a company that sacrifices its own moral standards in order to improve its profit statement will, in the long run, be doing something that is to its disadvantage. A company benefits from its public image, as well, and any company that presents itself as willing to abandon its morals may come to be regarded as a company without principles. And a company without principles may see its image suffer and end up losing more than it gains. In short, a quality organization doesn't reject its own moral values when it enters a new business environment.

Without question, when doing business in a foreign country, a company must adjust to that new environment. From very small changes in what one eats (or doesn't), to how business itself is conducted, employees must be willing to be flexible and tolerant. At one end of the spectrum, these small changes simply introduce new variables to navigate in order to gain the advantages this opportunity makes available. But at the other end of the spectrum, legal and cultural traditions may require too much sacrifice for a company to make, even if this requires that some short–term profits be abandoned. It is one thing to get used to doing exercises with fellow employees early in the morning, before getting to the actual work of the day. It is something entirely different if a government official asks you to fire a quality employee because he or she is discovered to be a member of a religion that the government finds "unacceptable." Somewhere between these two extremes, a company has to ask itself what its fundamental values are, and whether it is willing to ignore those values in favor of its profits.

A company doing business in another country obviously needs to be tolerant and flexible, but the company must also examine how much it is willing to ignore for the sake of profit.

Consider the internet company that prides itself on its openness and its respect for the privacy of those who use its service. Its customers have come to rely on it as having high moral standards and a significant commitment to human rights. A customer who uses this company's products can be confident that no one else will know what he or she is looking at on the Internet when using its search engine, and that any e–mail sent will not be read by anyone other than the intended recipient. Certainly this customer has always assumed, correctly, that no government will be allowed access to his or her account; privacy and confidentiality are hallmarks of this business, and its commitment to these values is a major reason for its success.

Now imagine that this company is given the opportunity to expand into a foreign country, with rich opportunities for growth and substantial potential for large profits. This particular foreign country is run by an oppressive government known for putting political opponents into jail, and even executing them. It censors newspapers, magazines, films, and music, frequently prohibiting material from even crossing its borders. It also restricts access to the World Wide Web and keeps close track of what its citizens read on the web, as well as what its citizens attempt to read on the web.

There is a great deal of pressure, in a very competitive business environment, for the internet company to begin operations in this foreign country. The potential for profit is enormous, and stockholders have indicated their desire for this expansion to be carried out. But the CEO refuses to do so. She realizes that being willing to operate under the oppressive and anti–democratic laws of this country may, in the short run, generate substantial profits. She also notes that much of the company's success has been accomplished because it has high moral standards and insists on functioning in accordance with its very well–known public commitment to an ethical code. She puts this decision in terms of a trade–off: should the company seek short–term gains, it may well risk the substantial long–term gains and the reputation for integrity it has acquired by operating ethically. The CEO determines that the long–term gains here outweigh the short–term benefits, and thus decides not to expand under the conditions imposed by the foreign government. Indeed, the CEO argues that by refusing to abandon its moral principles, the company sends a strong signal to this foreign government that it needs to change its oppressive policies in order to participate as a full partner in international business. From this perspective, the foreign government may come to realize that it is losing out by failing to respect the rights of its citizens, and that it is to its own economic advantage to promote greater freedom.
The Theories

Any business has to make a wide variety of decisions: whether to keep assets or sell them, how many people it needs to hire (or lay off), whether or not to sign a contract with this or that supplier, and what kind of growth and expansion it wishes to undertake. All such decisions are made for one specific reason: to return profits to the investors—frequently stockholders—who make the company possible. All decisions, therefore, must fundamentally be made with one factor in mind: Is this decision good for the company and its bottom line? Does it make the company more profitable or not?

The cultural relativist recognizes that different cultures have different standards. These may be informal traditions that a given culture, or country, has always followed; they may be more formal policies that are written into the country's laws. What a given culture regards as the right thing to do must be understood in terms of that culture. In short, its values are relative to the specific culture or society where those values are embraced.

A cultural relativist recognizes that different cultures have different standards. An ethical relativist argues that those operating in a different country need to accept the standards and laws of that country.

The ethical relativist argues, then, that the traditions, policies, rules, standards, and laws of a country are to be accepted by those who decide to locate in that country in order to do business. As the old saying goes, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." This doesn't mean that you necessarily agree with all the practices you see in the foreign land; then again, many of those citizens might question some of the values found in your own country. By agreeing to take advantage of the opportunities another country offers, a business must accept that country's practices. For they are the practices that country has determined are correct for that country.

A business must attend to its business, and that is returning a profit on its investment. It is not part of its mission to evaluate the traditions and rules of its business environment, except in those cases that those traditions and rules interfere with it doing business. As long as that interference does not occur, a company has neither the obligation nor the right to criticize the way a country and its government operates. By expanding its business into a foreign culture, a company has implicitly accepted doing business under the terms of that foreign culture.

This does not mean there isn't a right or wrong way to do things. Rather, it means that right and wrong have to be looked at from the perspective of a specific society. Right in China may be very different than right in Sweden; it may even turn out that right in China is wrong in Sweden. If one is doing business in Sweden, one follows Swedish laws and customs; if one is doing business in China, one follows Chinese laws and customs. A company cannot state a set of rules and force another culture to adopt those rules; those rules, of course, are only right relative to that company's own culture.

Consequently, the ethical relativist rejects the idea of some general conception of right and wrong, good and bad, or acceptable and unacceptable business practices. Instead, the relativist insists that these terms be viewed in terms of the culture where one operates, and those companies that choose to do business in a given country should recognize that the rules in force are the rules adopted as correct for that given country.

A utilitarian would note that a company’s decisions affect other people and thus would argue that broader interests must be considered.

A utilitarian may come to a different conclusion, however, based on a more general conception of what benefits are involved. The utilitarian may include in her calculation of the "greatest good for the greatest number" a broader conception of whose good should be considered. Some may insist that only the stockholders' demands need to be considered; thus, the utility calculation should be based on what produces the greatest good for the greatest number of stockholders. But a more expansive view, while still utilitarian, would include employees, suppliers, vendors, the company's community, and even potential customers. This second view bases its utility calculation on what is called a "stakeholder" account. A specific decision may affect a much larger number of people than just stockholders; for instance, if a company decides to relocate its business, the surrounding community's economy may suffer. Losing those jobs will have a ripple effect, in that those who worked in the community ate in restaurants and shopped at local stores; thus, those working in those restaurants and stores may suffer a negative effect as well. These decisions, then, ripple throughout a given community.

In terms of deciding whether to operate a business under laws and rules that a company finds to be unethical, this utilitarian calculation may consider the damage done to the company's reputation as part of that calculation. How valuable is a given company's image for being responsible and for being committed to strong ethical principles? This is a difficult question to answer with a specific number, but companies that have lost this reputation have been known to have spent a great deal of money trying to regain it; some, having lost it, have ended up going out of business altogether. So even though this value may be difficult to quantify, it is an important factor to consider.

Let's return to our internet company's decision to operate in a country that violates what we might regard as its citizens' civil rights. The utilitarian calculation may well lead to the result that, on the stakeholder view, the greatest good for the greatest number, at least in the long run, is produced by being unwilling to operate in that country. Short–term profits may be sacrificed, but the reputation of the company is maintained, leading to a sustainable model for growth that will lead, again in the long run, to greater profits. In this way, then, the utilitarian might well argue that the ethical thing to do is to be unwilling to distort one's fundamental moral principles, simply to obtain short–term profits.
Some Conclusions

We can see that this issue can lead to some difficult decisions, but the company must try to strike a balance between ethical concerns and the bottom line. For those who think the ethical values of a company are crucial, these considerations may outweigh the potential benefits another country may offer. For those who focus chiefly on the company's profits—perhaps especially short–term profits—the benefits are simply too great and any morally troubling issues cannot outweigh them.

The result of the discussion here seems to lead to a range of possible options; there may, of course, be others as well. First, as we have seen, one can simply ignore any and all moral violations in the host country. A company is there to do business, and such moral concerns don't factor in to the relevant business decisions. At the other extreme, a corporation may choose not to do business in a country at all, if that country's moral and legal policies are too objectionable.

At the same time, each of these options may have its own difficulties. Should a corporation be willing to expand to a country that employs slave labor? What if a foreign nation systematically oppresses ethnic and religious minorities? Are there limits to what is permissible here, or does the corporation simply turn a blind eye to such ethical violations? Furthermore, if a corporation ignores such violations and continues to do business there, can't it be seen to be supporting those violations? After all, this corporation will be employing citizens of the host country and paying taxes to the host government; couldn’t that be considered support for a regime many may find morally reprehensible? Can all such objections be dismissed as irrelevant? Would that mean that it doesn't matter how the company makes its profits, it only matters that it makes profits?

On the other hand, a company may have to be willing to be sufficiently flexible to accept some differences to do business internationally; no country will operate completely the same as one's own. If a potentially lucrative market is ignored for relatively minor complaints the company might have about another country's laws and culture, the company would seem to be irresponsible in failing to step up to its obligations as a business. Perhaps Internet access is more tightly controlled than it is in the United States; if a corporation refused to do business there, would that be a sufficient reason? Or is this a situation where one might not be happy with the policy, but might find the policy not so objectionable as to prevent a corporation from doing business there? Of course, drawing the line between what can and cannot be tolerated is difficult and can be the source of serious disagreements within a given company.

Another position that has been adopted argues that a company that works within a country may have more success in getting morally objectionable policies changed. Thus, rather than boycotting a country and refusing to have any dealings with it, engaging with the country's business and political structure provides an opportunity to change it. A company can make known its objections, in this case, because it has access to the country's power structure. This is a policy sometimes called constructive engagement: by engaging in dialogue, a corporation has a better chance of making its constructive criticisms taken seriously and may have a better chance of getting morally objectionable policies changed. It may also have a better opportunity to demonstrate the economic benefits of changing specific policies and what the economic consequences may be of not changing them.

Some also debate whether a company should try to effect change by working with the country or threatening to withhold its presence and the economic benefits that come with it.

In contrast to this perspective, a company may make clear from the outset that it finds a country's legal or cultural standards too objectionable. This approach seeks to demonstrate to a country, or perhaps its government, that by not respecting human rights, for instance, it is losing valuable business. Sometimes this is known as the carrot–and–stick strategy. A corporation has a carrot: the financial advantages it offers to this country in terms of economic development. Its stick is the threat of withholding those advantages, making clear what the country is losing by maintaining its morally objectionable policies. To be a bit blunt, it is, more or less, a threat; the company is saying "change your policies or lose these opportunities." From the company's perspective, of course, it is to everyone's advantage for the foreign nation to change: its own people have greater economic opportunity as well as greater freedoms, and the corporation can reap its own rewards from doing business there.

There are, no doubt, other ways of thinking about how to resolve the ethical conflicts that may arise when doing business in a foreign country. It is also clear that some foreign governments are fundamentally interested in maintaining power and control, and may therefore not listen to either objections that come from outside companies working there or from promises (or threats) from companies that might be willing to work there, regardless of the economic benefits that could follow. At the same time, only a business model that wholly ignores, or even rejects, any conception of ethical principles will fail to raise objections to practices that violate basic human rights and fundamental conceptions of human dignity.
Where Do We Go from Here?

With the development of technology—faster airplanes, cell phones, the Internet, the World Wide Web, videoconferencing, and many others—the opportunities for international business have never been greater. This brings with it, of course, interactions between and among different cultures and the recognition of distinct traditions, laws, and business practices. Although the opportunities have never been more abundant, the exposure of these cultural differences becomes more pronounced with the growth of these opportunities. Can ethics help provide some guidance in navigating these differences?

With increased globalization and technological advances, exposure to cultural differences becomes more pronounced. An individual must be equipped with the tools to navigate through the shades of gray. How has globalization affected your life?

One value promoted by the various ethical theories we have looked at seems to be tolerance. That is, a company that seeks to expand into another country must be willing to adapt to practices that are distinct from its own practices. There will be conflicts, of course. One culture may prohibit alcohol altogether, whereas another may regard it as standard operating procedure to discuss important business decisions during late–night drinking sessions. One culture may forbid, legally or informally, women from taking on a corporate leadership role, whereas another culture may regard it as extremely important to have a substantial number of women in corporate leadership roles. These cultural differences will have to be worked out, of course, if productive business is to be carried out. But the chances of success are greatly increased if the parties involved are willing to be flexible and tolerant of those cultural differences that may simply be different, rather than wrong or immoral.

That doesn't mean, necessarily, that "anything goes." Each corporation will have set of different standards, and most corporations will recognize that some things are simply wrong, or sufficiently wrong as to be intolerable. An Internet company may refuse to do business on the condition that the government can access its customers' accounts; that may go beyond what this company can tolerate. On the other hand, it may conclude that this condition is acceptable. Corporations have obligations to satisfy stockholders' demands for a return on investment, but they have other obligations as well, including an obligation to have ethical principles and integrity. Ethics can offer a great deal in making clear what these obligations are and how to evaluate the many factors that are involved in making important business decisions. Ethics can also help clarify the fact that corporations do have an obligation to look beyond short–term profits, and that there is a value to a company for having a reputation of maintaining high ethical standards.

As globalization increases, and economies and markets become increasingly interdependent, these issues will arise more frequently. We also see that the rights of any individual corporation must be considered in the context of a much larger context: not just in terms of its competitors or even the host country, but the international context. Ethics may not be able to resolve these problems and certainly cannot offer solutions that will satisfy everyone involved. By clarifying the issues involved and bringing rigor to evaluating how those issues may be resolved, ethics makes a genuine contribution to making decisions in an international business environment.
Is There a Limit to Tolerance?

Tolerance seems to be a value that many insist is extremely important. Tolerance is not just prized in the context of business, or in the interactions between and among different cultures, but it seems to be important when dealing with others within one's own culture. In a diverse country like the United States, there are cultural, ethnic, religious, and other kinds of differences that make up the traditional conception of the United States as a "melting pot" that recognizes these differences while also affirming those things held in common. The well-known motto "E Pluribus Unum"– "Out of many, one"– recognizes this diversity as well.
What Would You Do?

You are the CEO of a company that does extensive business internationally. You have recently been informed that the host country will not allow Albert, who runs one of your most profitable subsidiaries, to return from his vacation because he is Jewish and recently visited Israel. You are also told that if he returns in spite of this ban, he will be arrested and deported, and there might also be negative economic repercussions for your company, such as some very lucrative contracts you have with the host country not being renewed.

• Do you replace Albert with someone else?

• Do you tell the host country that your company will leave if you are not allowed to retain Albert?

• How do you come to the decision you make, and what factors do you regard as most important in determining your decision?

But are there limits to tolerance? In its most radical version, relativism would seem to suggest that there are no such limits. One person's views may conflict sharply with another's, but the relativist argues that there is no way of resolving this conflict beyond recognizing that there is a conflict. What is true (and false) for one person is true (and false) for just that person; all another person can do is say that his or her truth (and falsity) is different. This extends, of course, to moral issues; the relativist insists that what is wrong for a person might not be wrong for another, but that there is no way of resolving this difference. So everything must be tolerated.

Some philosophers have argued that the position of radical relativism is incoherent, for a couple of different reasons. One argument against this kind of relativism is to see how people actually behave: Do they take things to be wrong just for them, or just for their culture, or do they act as if something is simply, flat-out, actually wrong? Many people worry about the inability of relativism to say that genocide and other evils that human beings commit are just "wrong" relative to an individual or a culture. Do we want to reserve a stronger way of condemning things such as rape, child abuse, slavery, and other acts traditionally regarded as evil?

Another argument against unlimited tolerance is a bit more subtle, but it has been very influential. This argument might start by looking at simple mathematical claims; do we really want to say that for one person, "2 + 3 = 5" is true, but that for another it may not be true? At the level of being able to reason at all, are we committed to certain principles of logic that make our disagreements possible? Don't we have to agree on some principles in order to understand each other enough to recognize that we disagree? For instance, if two people differ about the legality of abortion, they may differ about whether a fetus is a human being. But both must seem to have to agree that the fetus cannot be a human being and, at the same time, not be a human being. They wouldn't be able to talk to each other, in this case, if they were willing to accept a contradiction of this form. It also seems to be the case that here both must have some basic idea of what each other's words mean; the radical relativist seems to be willing to say that words can mean just about anything. But if words can mean just about anything, how could people talk to each other and understand each other at all? This doesn't mean they completely understand each other, let alone agree with each other. Rather, the idea here is that they have to share a great deal in common, in the words they use, and the way they argue, just to be able to have a disagreement in the first place.

Although we tend to focus on our differences, we probably have more in common than we realize or think.

Some anthropologists have insisted that people often fail to realize that in discussing relativism, we may forget just how much we have in common. (Anthropologist Donald Brown has identified hundreds of such "human universals" found in every culture ever encountered, including jokes, dreams, music, pronouns, and many more.) No matter how radically distinct two people's cultures may be, they agree on much more than they disagree. The disagreements are more interesting, of course, so we tend to focus on them. But imagine two people debating gun control. They may have very big differences, but they agree on many things that aren't even worth discussing. There is almost an unlimited number of things one could add to this list: guns don't make good hats, guns aren't good to eat, guns don't fly, and guns need ammunition, not to mention more general things like gravity or other laws of nature. When considering ethical disputes, we focus on the things over which we disagree. But this can lead us to forget that we have to share a great deal in common in order to have the disagreement to begin with. This, then, suggests that there are limits to tolerance, and that some notions must be maintained: that is, we can be tolerant of many things, but if we tolerate everything, we may lose the very ability to think, reason, and talk with each other.

3.3
 An Historical Debate: The Internment of Japanese Americans in World War II


On December 7, 1941, Japanese warplanes attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. About a year later—December 19, 1942—President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, leading to the internment of approximately 120,000 Americans of Japanese descent, placing them in camps in California, Oregon, and other states. About two–thirds of those detained were American citizens.
The Issue: Should Japanese Americans Be Detained and Interned?

The Supreme Court heard two cases involving this internment, one of which—Korematsu v. United States—we will look at from the perspective of utilitarianism and deontology. Here again we will see how ethical theories can inform important decisions and have a real impact on people's lives.
The argument for detention and internment

The December 11, 1941, bombing of Pearl Harbor catapulted the United States into World War II and resulted in the internment of thousands of Japanese Americans.

A country at war cannot afford the luxury of respecting those "rights" that, at other times, may deserve some consideration. A nation, during wartime, has the fundamental goal of winning that war; all other considerations must be adjusted to this basic goal. For if the war were to be lost, all those other rights would become meaningless. Abraham Lincoln, during the Civil War, suspended habeas corpus; thus American citizens could be detained and jailed without access to legal representation. Lincoln noted that the very existence of the United States was at stake, and during such an emergency, measures could be taken that were required to successfully prosecute the war. In general, legal and moral principles have to be looked at during wartime in a different way than they might be otherwise.

A World War II wartime poster. At the time, some argued that certain legal and moral principles needed to be looked at differently in times of war.

In a 1943 court case, Hirabayashi v. United States, the federal government argued that it was constitutional and just to impose curfews on and relocate Japanese Americans. The United States was at war with Japan, and it was thought likely that some of the people of Japanese descent might well be sympathetic to the Japanese cause. Thus, certain restrictions were imposed upon them, such as excluding them from areas important to the military. The Supreme Court, in hearing this case, determined that the military and the federal government should be given the "benefit of the doubt" in such cases. During wartime, as noted earlier, the military may require certain things that might not otherwise be permitted. The court determined that in this case, it was right to defer to the military authorities.

Drawing on the Hirabayashi case, Justice Hugo Black argued that the restrictions imposed on the movements of Japanese Americans were constitutional. Emergency wartime measures demanded that it was better to risk violating certain traditional rights than to put the security of the United States in jeopardy. As Black observed, the "properly constituted military authorities feared an invasion of our West Coast and felt constrained to take proper security measures" (Korematsu v. United States, 1944).

In a perfect world, all rights that one possesses should be protected; however, wartime emergencies are clearly not part of such a perfect world. The United States—represented by both the federal government and the military—were faced with the choice of protecting the rights of certain individuals or protecting the security of the United States as a whole. Deferring to the military during wartime, the Supreme Court argued, was a reasonable thing to do. The military saw the internment of Japanese Americans as an important step in maintaining the security of the United States, and the Supreme Court agreed. Therefore, it was both moral and just to intern people of Japanese descent while the United States was at war with the Japanese Empire.
The argument against detention and internment

The case against detention is obvious and straightforward and was seen as such by the Supreme Court justices who dissented from the majority opinion. Two basic reasons were brought forth to support the view that detention was unconstitutional.

A display at the Manzanar National Historic Site in California. Manzanar was one of the Japanese internment camps. The Japanese were singled out based on their appearance; no German Americans or Italian Americans were discriminated against although the United States was at war with Germany and Italy, too.

First, to single out a group simply on the basis of its ethnicity is racist. The vast majority of Americans have ethnic ties to other nations and cultures, yet only Japanese Americans were detained and interned in camps. This suggests that Japanese Americans were treated arbitrarily and singled out on the basis of one, specific factor: their Japanese heritage. No arguments were provided indicating that Japanese Americans were more likely to be sympathetic to the enemies of the United States than members of other groups. Even though the United States was at war with Germany and Italy, as well as Japan, no German Americans or Italian Americans were detained solely on the basis of their ethnic background. As Associate Justice Frank Murphy observed in his dissent,

All residents of this nation are kin in some way by blood or culture to a foreign land. Yet they are primarily and necessarily a part of the new and distinct civilization of the United States. They must, accordingly, be treated at all times as the heirs of the American experiment, and as entitled to all the rights and freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution (Korematsu v. United States, 1944).

Associate Justice Robert Jackson provided the second reason for rejecting the constitutionality of detaining and interning Japanese Americans. Jackson's point was subtle, but worth considering. He argued that the military and federal government should be given the benefit of the doubt during wartime. But he also insisted that it was not the Court's role to endorse things as constitutional that were not. Jackson was particularly worried that if the court ruled such things as constitutional, the power so granted could be used when wartime emergencies were no longer in place. Jackson thus noted that there was a difference between the military deciding to intern Japanese Americans and the Supreme Court finding internment constitutional. As he put it,

once a judicial opinion rationalizes such an order to show that it conforms to the Constitution, or rather rationalizes the Constitution to show that the Constitution sanctions such an order, the Court for all time has validated the principle of racial discrimination in criminal procedure and of transplanting American citizens. The principle then lies about like a loaded weapon, ready for the hand of any authority that can bring forward a plausible claim of an urgent need (Korematsu v. United States, 1944).
The Theories

A list of the names of the dead at the USS Arizona memorial. A utilitarian might argue that the security of all Americans outweighed the good of any smaller group.

From a utilitarian perspective, the choice here might be described as one that takes into consideration the security of the United States. The greatest good for the greatest number of Japanese Americans may well be produced by not detaining and interning them, but that utility must be balanced against the utility of all Americans. Because the total population of Americans is so much greater, it is clear that the greatest good—the security of all Americans—outweighs the good of any smaller group. The assumption here, of course, is that the security of the United States required the internment of Japanese–Americans. On that assumption, to do what defends the United States will produce the greatest good for the greatest number, and thus internment would produce this result in contrast to not doing so. The utilitarian might also add that since Japanese Americans were also made more secure by this step, their own utility would be increased because the utility of all Americans would be maximized.

The deontologist, in contrast, might argue that the dignity and respect owed to human beings was consequently owed to Japanese Americans. To detain and intern them on the basis of ethnic identity—and not treating others in the same way—was to violate their rights and to use them solely as means to an end (the end being the security of the United States, again on the assumption that security required internment). It is a violation, then, of human dignity to treat people solely on the basis of their ethnicity, and the deontologist would reject as unethical the treatment of Japanese Americans. To put it in terms of the Golden Rule, the deontologist might ask if others would object to being interned in camps, and losing most or all of their property and possessions, solely on the basis of their ethnic backgrounds.

Some Conclusions

A re–creation of a room at Manzanar.

The approximately 120,000 Japanese Americans were interned in camps in various parts of the United States during most of the remained of World War II. In January of 1945, the order to do so was rescinded. Those detained were given $25 and a train ticket; most Japanese Americans returned home, although some went to Japan. The Japanese surrendered in August 1945, and the last camp was closed in 1946. Many Japanese Americans lost a great deal of their private property, and due to that and to the internment itself, suffered psychological damage. A number of lawsuits were filed, and some financial settlements were reached, although only a fraction of what was asserted to have been lost. Manzanar, one of the relocation camps in central California, was designated a National Historic Site in 1992.

The Civil Liberties Act of 1988, signed by President Ronald Reagan, gave $20,000 to each of the surviving Japanese Americans who had been interned, amounting to a total of $1.2 billion. This act also explicitly included an apology, on behalf of the people of the United States, for the evacuation, relocation, and internment of Japanese–American citizens and permanent resident aliens.

Where Do We Go from Here?

Americans Linked by Ideals, Not Ancestry

In this video, two historians and two philosophers discuss the contrast between the ideals that the United States began with and who was excluded from some of those ideals.

In the Korematsu case, we see a number of issues that retain a good deal of contemporary relevance. We see that during wartime, there may be a compelling interest on the part of the state to restrict certain rights that would otherwise not be violated. We see that sometimes this compelling interest is not appropriately checked by careful consideration of the assumptions involved: in this case, whether Japanese Americans in fact posed a security threat simply on the basis of their ethnic background. We also see what John Stuart Mill recognized was a problem that confronted majority rule: the possibility that the majority could overturn or violate the rights of a minority. Mill insisted that conditions be imposed to prevent this "tyranny of the majority."

Finally, we see that ethical arguments, again, can make clear what the issues are, but it can't guarantee that the result will be the correct one, or one that all interested parties will find satisfactory. The arguments presented in the Supreme Court relied on certain assumptions, and certain applications of ethical theory. Given a more careful consideration, or perhaps just hindsight, we may come to realize that those assumptions themselves should be given critical scrutiny, and that more attention should be paid to whether a given ethical theory is applied correctly. As we've seen before, the rights of individuals often have to be understood within the context of the values of the larger society in which those individuals live.

Americans have become more aware, particularly in an increasingly diverse society, that there are risks involved in labeling large groups of people on the basis of their geographical origins, religion, ethnicity, and other characteristics. Because we've learned from mistakes in the past that acts taken on the basis of those characteristics can lead to serious violations of morality, ethics helps remind us that we must remain vigilant in treating individuals, and groups, with the respect they deserve.
What Is Patriotism?

The term "patriot" originates in the Greek word for "father." Just as a child had various duties owed to one's father, a citizen had duties owed to one's country. More generally, the relationship between the citizen and the state is captured by the analogy between a child and a parent that the term “patriot” draws on. Thus, we sometimes see one's country referred to as the "Fatherland": the land of one's father, and a country to which its citizens owe their loyalty.

Some regard patriotism as the unquestioning loyalty of a country's citizens to the leader and government of that country. In other words, to be a patriot is do whatever one's government tells one. Whether that idea is expressed as "My country right or wrong," or "America: Love it or Leave it," the attitude seems to be that criticism and challenges to governmental authority is somehow wrong, and quite possibly immoral.

Some think of patriotism as unquestioning loyalty. Others see challenging the government as part of being a patriot. Here, protesters voice their disagreement with 2010 health care legislation. What does patriotism mean to you?

Others have advocated, in contrast, a somewhat more complex relationship between a nation and its citizens. One may, indeed, have unswerving loyalty to one's country, but in this context "loyalty" also brings with it the responsibility to challenge the government when it is doing something unethical. In other words, loyalty does not mean uncritical obedience.

Sometimes this relationship is compared to that between a husband and wife. We can assume the wife loves the husband, and respects him, but this does not mean she does so uncritically. Rather, the truest sign of that love and respect is to inform her husband if he is doing something—perhaps unconsciously—that is wrong, or is causing a problem of which he might be unaware.

Thus, one may love one's country, but that doesn't mean a true patriot never challenges what that country does. Particularly in a democratic society, what the country does it presumably does in the names of its citizens. In that sense, then, citizens must take responsibility for what is done in their names. And if a state is engaged in an activity that is immoral or unethical, it may be that the most genuine and most sincere patriotism is that which is willing to expose and discuss the state's moral failings. As Thomas Jefferson succinctly put it, "Dissent is the highest form of patriotism." On this view, then, the true patriot seeks the best country possible to live in, and that requires, on occasion, that the loyal citizen points out his or her country's flaws, so that it avoids moral errors and can improve.
3.4
 The Environment and NIMBY: Not In My Backyard


Oil washed up onto the beach at Grand Isle State Park, Louisiana, due to BP's broken deep–water well in mid–2010.

Ethical issues that arise about the environment have, in recent years, received increasing attention from philosophers, among others. The Deepwater Horizon explosion in the Gulf of Mexico revealed, again, that such issues affect a large number of people. It also focused attention on corporate responsibility—in this case, British Petroleum—in doing business. The general question of the relationship between humans and their planet can become very complex, so we will focus here on one very specific issue: How do communities deal with the hazardous wastes that the community produces? A common expression heard in these discussions is "Not In My Backyard" (NIMBY). No one wants hazardous waste in his or her own neighborhood, but something has to be done with it. We will look at attempts to resolve this issue from the perspective of ethical egoism and utilitarianism.
The Issue: What Should Be Done with Hazardous Waste?

Societies produce waste, and often produce hazardous waste, such as chemicals, solvents, and batteries. If we consume products that produce this kind of waste, we need to determine what is the fairest and the most effective way to deal with that waste.
Hazardous waste should be handled in the most economical way

All communities produce various kinds of by–products, some of which can be quite toxic. Whether it is individuals with old batteries or used motor oil, a dry cleaner or hospital, or a company manufacturing paint or chemicals, various kinds of wastes are produced. Of course, we need all these products, from the batteries and dry cleaners to the paint; our way of life is simply one that inevitably produces things that need to be taken care of safely. How can we handle these hazardous wastes in a way that best protects the environment, but without causing economic harm?

One obvious suggestion is that incinerators and storage facilities should be located as far away as possible from communities. This can help prevent some toxic chemicals from "leeching" into the water supply and doing other environmental damage; after all, no one wants dangerous chemicals in the water supply. Similarly, incinerators and landfills should be located where they pose the smallest risk to the environment. Preferably, sites will be available far enough away from a community that these risks are minimized.

Ideally, landfills and waste disposal sites need to be located far away from communities, but close enough that they're still useful.

Unfortunately, this ideal solution is not always available. Large communities produce a great deal of waste, both the hazardous kinds already mentioned but also significant amounts of basic, everyday household trash (which may also include some hazardous material). Landfills must be located close enough to the community to be useful to that community, and if the distance is too great, transportation and other associated costs become very high. Thus, a community may be confronted with the choice of locating a landfill closer to the community, or taking on substantial costs to dispose of the waste.

One should probably distinguish here between kinds of wastes produced and the measures that need to be taken to deal with the wastes involved. A nuclear power plant, for instance, may produce radioactive waste products that require specific treatment and storage for a long period of time. Traditionally, this kind of material has been the focus of specific government agencies such as the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Of course, NIMBY is part of this discussion as well; many people are quite insistent that they do not want radioactive material stored near their communities. But this raises somewhat distinct issues that other kinds of hazardous waste.

How can communities deal with the kinds of hazardous materials found in ordinary household garbage? A brief list indicates some of the kinds of things that must be treated safely, but economically: thermometers, cell phones, light switches, antifreeze, insecticides, and many other household products contain a wide range of chemicals and other hazardous ingredients. The choice here isn't easy: it seems unlikely that we will quit using these kinds of products. Indeed, in both the United States and in developing economies, demand for these kinds of products will almost certainly increase. So we must determine a way to handle these materials safely and economically.

Economists and others often speak in terms of cost–benefit analysis. That is, we weigh the costs of an activity against its benefits, and if the benefits outweigh those costs, then it seems to be an appropriate thing to do. Certain costs are involved in storing and otherwise handling hazardous wastes, and there are obvious benefits to do so safely and economically. If we assume that we cannot simply eliminate the wastes from the larger community, then clearly the cheapest place to handle them will be that place where the land is least expensive and where the economic impact of locating a landfill or incinerator is lowest. Consequently, given that we need to handle hazardous waste in one way or another, it seems clear that we should locate the appropriate facilities in places where the land is least expensive, and where locating these facilities will not damage the economic value of the land any more than necessary.
Hazardous waste should be handled in the fairest way
What Would You Do?

You run a large company that produces batteries, and as a by–product your company also produces a number of heavy metals, such as cadmium, mercury, and lead, that must be dealt with. You have been disposing on them in a dedicated landfill that is inexpensive to use, but recent reliable studies indicate that some of these chemicals have been "leeching" into the water system, and may be causing birth defects and learning disorders in the community close to that landfill. It will cost quite a lot to dispose of these materials in a safer site, and your stockholders object that this cost is too great. You also know that the government may, eventually, require you to dispose of this material at the more expensive site, but that you can delay having to do so for at least ten years through legal challenges, which are much cheaper than moving to the other site.

• Do you decide to move, voluntarily, to the safer disposal site?

• Do you decide to continue to use the less safe site until you are required to do so by law? How do you justify this decision?

• How do you make this decision, and how do you balance your company's profits against the effects your hazardous waste has on the local community?

We all engage in things that produce waste, and some of that waste is hazardous to human beings. The economic well–being of a community depends on a wide range of activities that inevitably will entail by–products that the community will have to dispose of, or store, in as safe a way as is possible. All share in the production of wastes, and all benefit from the activities that have such waste as their by–products. Who, then, should bear the burden of their disposal and storage by having an incinerator or landfill located in their neighborhood? Many will insist "Not in My Backyard," but such facilities will have to go in someone's backyard. The issue then becomes this: What is the fairest way to determine their location?

Because all share in the production of hazardous wastes, all should share in the burdens that accompany their storage and disposal. Those who live on the most inexpensive property do not produce more than their share of these by–products; it isn't fair for them to take on more than their share of the costs in their handling. The community generates this problem as a whole, thus the community should share in solving this problem, and should do so in the fairest and most equitable way possible.

A standard term in economics, relevant here, is the notion of externalities. An externality is the effect of a decision—often an economic decision—on those who don't really have a say in the making of that decision. Here, one might think of the location of a hazardous waste site as generating externalities for those who live nearby. Perhaps there is a greater threat to the water supply in that area, or certain chemicals are released into the surrounding atmosphere. To take a specific example: consider a neighborhood that is close to a municipal solid waste incinerator. This incinerator increases the amount of lead in the local atmosphere, and may, therefore, increase the amount of lead in the bloodstream of the children in this neighborhood. Even a small amount of lead in the bloodstream has been indicated as a cause of learning disabilities and stunted growth among children. The children in this neighborhood pay a cost—elevated lead in the bloodstream—that is the responsibility of all of those who take advantage of the solid waste incinerator. Because these children are affected in a disproportionate way, this cost functions in this case as an externality. Put a bit more directly, these children seem to be taking on the burden of this incinerator that should be shared by the entire community.

We return here to the problem of NIMBY: no one wants an incinerator in his or her backyard, but it has to go somewhere. Is it fair to have the poorest neighborhoods take on this burden? Or is there a better solution, where the burden is shared more equally, and those neighborhoods that are already impoverished do not have the added disadvantage of the risks associated with storing and disposing of hazardous waste?

It's easier to ignore the issue of waste disposal if someone else is dealing with it.

Sharing the burden here more equitably also may provide a set of improved incentives for minimizing toxic and hazardous waste. If a person is confident that he or she will not have to dispose of that waste, there may be less reason to worry about it. But if that person knows that some of it will end up in his or her own neighborhood, then there is a strong incentive to minimize it by recycling, reducing, and reusing that material. You might not worry about simply throwing away a computer if someone else, on the other side of town, takes on the risks associated with your action. As the saying goes, "out of sight, out of mind." But you might take extra caution in how it is disposed of—including its chemical compounds that can be toxic—if you are the one who will be exposed to the risks represented by those potentially toxic computer components.

We all engage in activities that generate hazardous waste. We should all, therefore, take responsibility for its safe disposal and for minimizing the production of hazardous waste. It is unfair to require those who live in impoverished neighborhoods to have this further burden placed upon them. Therefore, it is only fair that the community as a whole shares the responsibility for taking care of the hazardous waste that it produces.
The Theories

The ethical egoist's view is really encapsulated in the very idea of NIMBY—the egoist doesn't want a hazardous waste facility in his or her backyard, and that is clearly what he or she thinks is best. Therefore, acting of out self–interest, the egoist insists that it go elsewhere. Admittedly, the ethical egoist recognizes that "Not in My Backyard" is equivalent to saying "In Somebody Else's Backyard." But the egoist acts on the basis of what maximizes his or her own self–interest, and it is pretty clear that locating such a facility somewhere else is preferable to having it in one's own neighborhood.

The ethical egoist acts in his or her own self–interest. However, a likely response would be for the ethical egoist to attempt to simply minimize personal cost, risk, and responsibility when it comes to waste disposal. Can you think of a time when you've taken the ethical egoist position?.

Ideally, the ethical egoist could engage in all sorts of consumption, without any concern whatsoever for the kinds of toxic by–products that might be produced. The best possible outcome for the egoist would be to enjoy the benefits and incur none of the risks. Rarely, however, is a person in this position. First, it is unusual for an individual to get to determine for a community how that community's resources are used; political decisions are generally made on a more democratic basis than this second, there is the much trickier problem of a situation where an entire community is made up of individual ethical egoists, all acting to maximize their self–interest. Here we confront the extreme situation where no one wants to take on any of the burden of dealing with the hazardous waste, but everyone wants to do the kinds of things that help generate that very waste. Assuming a disposal site, for instance, must be located in someone's backyard, is it inevitable that some of these ethical egoists will believe their rights are being unjustifiably violated?

A more plausible response from the ethical egoist is to recognize that the ideal situation doesn't exist. We know that hazardous waste will be generated and that it will have to be disposed of, or stored, somehow. In this case, the egoist will be willing to pay certain costs—perhaps a small increase in taxes—in order to avoid the greater costs that might be incurred from having a waste facility located in the egoist's neighborhood. Here the egoist maximizes his or her self–interest by paying the lowest cost possible, relative to all others. Although the egoist will not be able to avoid entirely taking on some of the responsibility, he or she will be able to minimize costs, and risks, by insisting that hazardous waste sites be placed in locations that cost the least and present the smallest amount of harm, and risk, to the egoist. Of course, there may be other ways for the egoist to respond: perhaps self–interest is determined to be what is the best for the community, or perhaps the egoist maximizes his or her utility in yet another way. The point, however, is that whatever response the egoist offers, it will have to follow the fundamental principle of ethical egoism: to do what is in one's own self–interest.

The utilitarian, of course, looks at this decision from the perspective of this question: What produces the greatest good for the greatest number? The most obvious application of this principle may be to determine that no one group of people be forced to shoulder a burden that is out of proportion to their responsibility for generating that burden. In other words, since everyone helps in the production of hazardous waste, everyone should assume the burden for its disposal. The utilitarian might also argue that one should take on this responsibility in a way that is proportionate; one's responsibility for disposing of the hazardous waste is relative to the amount one produces. This may be a difficult calculation to make with any precision, but the general idea should be clear: sharing the benefits and sharing the costs produces the greatest good for the greatest number.

A utilitarian might argue that no one group should be forced to shoulder the entire burden of waste disposal. However, a utilitarian might also argue that it is better that one goldfish suffer in polluted water than have all goldfish swim in a polluted bowl.

This may not be the only kind of response a utilitarian could offer, however. Perhaps locating hazardous waste facilities in a single section of the community makes the vast majority of that community better off; here a few would suffer but many would benefit. Even though this may generate the greatest good for the greatest number, it is also clear why utilitarians, and others, worry about majorities acting immorally. For here, the majority may decide that a minority should suffer, and be following the utilitarian principle. But, as J. S. Mill, himself a famous utilitarian, observed, this is to risk the "tyranny of the majority," and, potentially, to violate the rights of the minority in order to arrive at a result the majority would prefer.

One further result of the utilitarian approach to this question is to see the need for all the members of the community to participate in the decision–making process. This may prevent, in some cases, the majority from violating the rights of the minority. It will also ensure that all the voices of the community, and particularly those in the community most directly affected, will be heard.

The utilitarian, as we can see, doesn't provide an obvious answer to the problem of dealing with hazardous waste. It can be very difficult to determine what the greatest good is. It can be even more difficult to determine the greatest number affected by a decision: Is it those who live in the community as a whole? Can there be consequences for those outside the community—again raising the problem of externalities—that may be affected by the decision? But the advantage of the utilitarian approach is to force those making these decisions to define the benefits and costs of any specific decision. In this way, utilitarianism allows for a better decision–making process by making more explicit what is at stake in the results of that process.
Some Conclusions

As economic development continues, we will increasingly have to confront how we handle the resulting waste and pollution.

The kind of question discussed here is, of course, one that is of great contemporary concern to communities and governments on all levels, from local municipal governments all the way to the federal government. One obvious result is that we see that our actions have consequences. If we wish to continue to manufacture and consume products that contain potentially dangerous chemical compounds, we must confront the problem of dealing with those by–products. These problems will continue to increase as demand grows for computers, cell phones, and other products that contain these materials. We also see that our own decisions may have far–reaching effects; I may not be risking anything by throwing batteries into my household trash, but somewhere down the line, the chemicals in those batteries could pose a serious health risk to others. These others may be in the next town, the next state, or even another country. Most ethical theorists, even ethical egoists, insist that these consequences must be taken into consideration in evaluating our behavior.

We also see that economic development brings with it increasing challenges to deal with environmental issues. Hazardous waste, acid rain, water and air pollution, and concerns about global climate change are just a few of the many problems that developed economies confront. With further development, more and more people will be affected by these problems and faced with the difficult issue of balancing economic development and potential environmental degradation. Even if we adopt a cost–benefit analysis as our approach, it is a difficult task to specify with precision what those costs are, and who will be required to pay them. It may not be that much easier to get a satisfactory grasp on what the benefits themselves are, and what time frame should be used for evaluating those benefits. Should we look to the near future, or much longer? And how does the choice of time frame affect our understanding of both costs and benefits?

We also see that individual rights, and choices, must be taken in a broader context. If someone wishes to preserve the "right" to dispose of toxic material in any way he or she sees fit, doesn't that interfere with the rights of others, and society at large, to be protected from the potential harm that material represents? A manufacturer cannot pollute local waterways without factoring the consequences for those downstream. In general, then, we see that individual rights are fundamentally connected with the rights of the larger society in which that individual lives. In the same way, a corporation is also a member of a larger community, and the rights and needs of that community cannot be fairly ignored.
Where Do We Go from Here?

A key issue will be how to balance economic development with environmental protection. This street lamp in Cornwall, England, is powered by both a micro wind turbine and photovoltaic cells.

It is clear that environmental ethics, the questions it explores, and the responses it provides will continue to receive a great deal of attention in the coming years. It is also clear that these questions will increasingly be looked at from an international perspective; one country's economic decisions often affect those in other countries. For instance, one country may choose to use a cheap energy source that generates extensive carbon emissions that may, in turn, affect a neighboring country (another externality). Thus, the use in America of high–sulfur coal may increase the likelihood of acid rain in Canada. What might Canada be able to do to minimize or eliminate this risk? More generally, with the rapid development countries such as the People's Republic of China, India, and Brazil, with enormous populations and an increasing demand for development, the associated costs of that development will also continue to increase. And these issues will often have consequences far beyond the borders of any individual nation.

A central issue in this area is how to balance economic development with environmental protection. How can economic growth be sustained without doing substantial harm to the environment? Can we even reconcile the two goals of economic development and environmental protection, or are these two goals at cross–purposes? Given the increasing interdependence of the global economy, and the effects of one country's choice on another country, these potential sources of conflict will continue to deserve close scrutiny.

Again, we see that ethical theory can help clarify the advantages and disadvantages—both short–term and long–term—in generating a cost–benefit analysis. It can help identify what rights are involved and how to weigh and evaluate them. Individuals, organizations, corporations, and governments can, therefore, all find ethical theory informative and productive in deciding how to strike the delicate balance between economic development and environmental protection.
How Are Good Environmental Policies Developed?

An Unnecessary Burden?

In this video, Jeremy Korenzio from the U.S. Department of Justice discusses the role of environmental regulation and the economic issues related to that regulation.

In the classic American movie It's a Wonderful Life, the lead character is shown what life would be like if he had never been born. It is an eye–opening experience for him, and he comes to realize that his life, and who he is, is fundamentally connected with many others. Not just his mother and wife and children, but his extended family and virtually all of the other members of his community. And, in turn, the influence he had on those people had important effects on those they influenced. The movie is a great demonstration of how interconnected we all are.

In looking at environmental policy, this is a good thing to keep in mind. What we do affects many others, often without our knowing it. The interconnections between any one person and all the others he or she encounters are too numerous to count, even if we were able to identify them. In the same way, a company's approach to the environment has long–lasting repercussions on those in a much larger area than just the immediate location of the company; those repercussions may even go well beyond neighboring countries and have an impact on the planet as a whole.

Environmental policy has to be formulated in such a way that it takes into account these effects and considers all those who may be affected by a given policy. At the same time, corporations have important responsibilities to provide a return on the stockholders' investments; that is, a for–profit company needs to turn a profit. A company must be able to balance this requirement to be profitable with the moral obligations it has to its community, however broadly we wish to interpret the notion of "community" here. Can these goals be reconciled? And if so, what role does the government play in formulating these policies in order to maintain a productive business climate while protecting the environment?

Most environmental ethicists argue that some consideration of those affected by corporate economic decisions and federal policies must be taken into account in making those decisions and formulating those policies. This doesn't mean, of course, that any individual, or community, has the right to veto what a corporation wishes to do or legislation a government body wishes to enact. But it does mean that their interests cannot be ignored. The famous political philosopher John Rawls described a procedure that might be useful here, one he called reflective equilibrium. This procedure allows for a wide variety of voices to be heard—in this case, the voices of the government, corporations, and the various members of the affected community—and taken into consideration in coming to a decision. Here, of course, that decision would be a specific corporate environmental policy or a piece of environmental legislation. Reflective equilibrium allows for a great deal of give and take and further allows for adjustments to be made to a specific decision based on the information provided by relevant parties. In this way, the most important information is included in the decision–making process. But it also allows for future adjustments to be made, if and when further relevant information becomes available.

Rawls's account, of course, describes an ideal situation, where all voices are heard and genuinely listened to, and all those involved—either by helping to make the decision or by being affected by it—are treated with mutual respect. This may not describe how policies are developed in the actual world of business and government, but it does offer a model that is worth considering. And, as such, it provides a way of including the insights of those not just drafting policies and laws but those who will have to live with those policies and laws.
3.5
 A Debate: Should the Draft Be Reinstated?


In 1973, the United States ended compulsory military conscription—the draft—and instituted a policy of an all–volunteer army. Every now and then proposals to reinstitute the draft have been put forth, although they have not received much support. At the same time, many other countries have a policy of mandatory public service. Some have argued that an all–volunteer force has produced the finest military in the world; others have argued that this requires a minority of citizens to burden the responsibilities that should be shared by all. We will look at this debate from the perspective of utilitarianism and virtue ethics.
The Issue: The Draft Should Not Be Reinstated

The United States discontinued military conscription—the draft—in 1973, establishing an all–volunteer military force. On a regular basis, arguments have been offered for reinstating the draft, often citing for support that the burden of defending one’s country should fall on all of its citizens.
The argument against reinstating the draft

The military offers incentives to its volunteers, including special training and education that can turn into valuable post–service career skills. This man is a machinist for the Navy. Do you know of others who were able to build on their knowledge because of their time in the military?

The U.S. military is one of the finest fighting forces in the world. It has, unlike many other countries, maintained its fighting force on a voluntary basis. Rather than forcing people to join the military through conscription, or a draft, the military offers young men and women the choice to join. Given that one of the values the United States promotes is freedom, it only stands to reason that those representing the United States should be doing so on a voluntary basis.

There are a number of advantages to an all–volunteer force. First, and perhaps foremost, it means that those in the military want to be there. They choose that path, and see it as offering opportunities that might otherwise be unavailable. A soldier who makes this particular choice has a much different perspective on his or her role than does the soldier who is there unwillingly. It makes for a more cohesive and stronger fighting unit.

To attract the best recruits, the military in turn offers valuable incentives, including extensive training and the opportunity to attend college, that might not otherwise be possible financially. One can, of course, make the military itself a career. Others leave the service with significantly developed skills, in a wide range of areas—engineering, electronics, medicine, and even foreign languages—that are highly marketable. One also learns the value of hard work and discipline. In general, after joining the military, whether one stays or leaves after a certain period of time, he or she will have developed both important values and skills that enhance one's career opportunities.

A draft may force people into the military who don't want to be there, which may result in inferior, resistant soldiers. How would you respond if you were drafted?

In contrast, the draft by its very nature may force people who do not want to be in the military to be there. Most serve honorably, of course, but there will be a greater tendency for some to resist the military service they are ordered to perform. This can take many forms, from being an inferior soldier to deserting. Spending valuable resources on training those who may leave after the shortest required time is not an efficient use of resources. Furthermore, the cohesiveness of the unit is not helped, and may be harmed, by including those who are there only because they are forced to serve.

The all–volunteer force eliminates most of these problems by offering a desirable situation that produces not just good soldiers, but good citizens who are ready, when they leave the service, to make substantial contributions to society. This works best when the members of the military are there voluntarily, choosing the military as an option that makes sense for them, as well as for their country. It has been argued by some constitutional scholars that the draft violates the Thirteenth Amendment of the Constitution, which prohibits involuntary servitude. But even if the draft is constitutional, reinstating it would work against a smoothly operating military and would force those who do not want to be there to serve unwillingly. It would force the armed services to accept candidates that they might well not accept were the force constituted on an all–volunteer basis. An all–volunteer force avoids the many problems that are generated by a draft and leads to a more efficient and better fighting force. Therefore, the draft should not be reinstated.
The argument for reinstating the draft

Some wonder how voluntary military service really is, when sometimes those less privileged need the training and employment incentives to achieve career success.

The Preamble of the United States speaks of providing for the "common defense." We, the people, enjoy the freedoms, the rights, and the opportunities provided by our country. It is only fit that citizens also take on the responsibility of defending those same freedoms. The citizens of a nation have the obligation to defend that nation. That obligation should be shared by all, but historically it has not been. Rather, that burden has been carried, disproportionately, by those from lower socioeconomic groups and minorities. If citizens will not voluntarily carry out their responsibilities, it is the government's right to require them to do so.

In addition to the obligations citizens accept by living within a country, there are also a number of specific reasons to reinstate the draft. Relying solely on volunteers can stretch the military too thin. To have an effective military, it must have sufficient numbers to replace those who have served and left the service, as well as those who have been, tragically, killed and wounded defending their nation. If the number of available soldiers becomes too small, needed leaves become shortened beyond what the military itself recommends. The draft provides a more stable and sufficient population of those capable of serving.

A draft also ensures that all citizens share the burden of citizenship equally. The draft does not—or should not—distinguish between the wealthy and the poor or among different ethnic backgrounds. The privileged son should not expect his own obligation to defend the homeland to be provided by someone else, particularly someone who hasn't had similar advantages. Those privileges come at a cost, and those who benefit from them should be willing to serve to defend them. The draft eliminates class, racial, and ethnic distinctions in who does and who does not serve.

In addition, without the draft, it may be an open question how voluntary the service actually is. In an economy with high unemployment, some may not be able to find satisfactory employment except in the military. This means that those who are able to avoid service can do so simply because they can afford to. If one has few options, and none better than joining the military, it could be argued that this is not a wholly voluntary choice.

Some note that national service doesn't need to be related to the military and argue that all of us have an obligation to serve our country.

Finally, if the draft were reinstated, all citizens would be subject to the risks of war, and they would be keenly aware of the harms to which they would be exposed. This makes the decision to go to war one of great interest to all citizens and would require those citizens to engage in the political debate over this option. Furthermore, were the children of those making these crucial decisions also subject to the draft, and the risks it brings, they might also be extremely hesitant to commit the nation to a war unless absolutely necessary.

Many countries require its citizens to engage in compulsory national service, a requirement that often is, but does not have to be, satisfied by military service. This offers a way for those who for religious or other reasons wish to refuse to join the military an alternative, while still recognizing the obligation to serve one's country. This has served to demonstrate that all citizens belong to one nation, and share the burden of serving, and on occasion defending, that nation and its values.

A citizen has an obligation to defend the country that provides him or her with the rights and opportunities of that country. That obligation must be shared by all citizens and should not be left only to those who do so willingly, or do so out of economic necessity. Requiring military or alternative service to one's country is a crucial reminder that the nation shares the same goals and values, regardless of economic or ethnic background. Citizens should be happy to serve their country but, in any case, need to recognize the common obligations they share as citizens. Therefore, the draft should be reinstated.
The Theories

The utilitarian, of course, focuses on one basic principle: given a set of choices, one should choose what generates the greatest good (or maximizes utility) for the greatest number. As we have already seen, this principle does not necessarily indicate what choice should be made, even after adopting the utilitarian perspective: different utilitarians can disagree, often quite sharply, about how the principle should be applied. Here, however, we can construct a utilitarian argument against reinstating the draft. (It might be good practice, however, to construct a utilitarian argument in favor of reinstating the draft.)

A utilitarian might argue that it is for the greater good that everyone should be free to choose his or her own path. What are some other ethical arguments that can be made?

Society is made up of people with diverse backgrounds, skills, and ambitions. The best possible result is for all of these people to draw on what is productive in their background to develop their skills, and to learn new ones. In this way, they have increased opportunities, including a greater chance to realize their ambitions. But fundamental to this entire picture is the idea of doing what one wishes to; to prevent that is to deny a person his or her freedom. Thus, the utilitarian will argue, in this case, that the only way for an individual citizen to maximize utility is to have the greatest amount of freedom possible; that freedom, in turn, makes possible the development of talents and the meeting of one's individual goals.

Clearly conscription, or forcing someone to sacrifice two or more years in military service is a denial of that freedom, unless there is no alternative. And, of course, there is an alternative: an all–volunteer military force. This preserves individual freedom and gives any citizen the ability to serve in the military and take advantage of the opportunities the military offers. To force someone to do this is to minimize individual freedom unnecessarily. Given that there is an obvious alternative, the all–volunteer force provides the greatest good for the greatest number. This becomes particularly obvious when freedom itself is factored in as an important, if not the most important, component of the good in question. No one can suggest that a policy of coercion—such as a military draft—maximizes a citizen's utility overall, if there is an available alternative. Thus, the draft doesn't provide as much freedom and opportunity as the all–volunteer military and, consequently, doesn't produce the greatest good for the greatest number. Rather, the all–volunteer force does maximize the utility of the individual citizen, and thus all citizens who live in a given country. Therefore, the draft should not be reinstated, given that the alternative all–volunteer approach produces the greatest good for the greatest number.

Marines at the Iwo Jima Memorial. A virtue ethicist would emphasize the positive values the military represents.

The virtue ethicist recognizes the importance of freedom but also emphasizes certain virtues that are also necessary for a citizen to be, simply put, good. These virtues include such things as pride, an even temper, honesty, and courage. Those who have these virtues, among others (such as generosity), and have them in a harmonious balance with each other are much more likely to be the kinds of citizens who make positive contributions to society. Surely, any society will promote those things that increase the likelihood that its members will possess these virtues and understand their importance.

It seems clear that the military promotes many of those values endorsed by the virtue ethicist, as well as how these values must be in proportion. Undoubtedly, the military demonstrates the importance of, for instance, having an even temper; whether in combat or not, one who maintains his or her temper in stressful situations will be more successful in and out of the military. Clearly the military emphasizes the importance of courage, but it also insists that too much courage—rash behavior—can be as harmful to the fighting unit as too little courage, or cowardice. The various virtues that have been highlighted by virtue ethics seem to be consistently those that are insisted upon in the military.

A society that emphasizes these virtues can rely on the military, or at least required national service, to promote these values and teach young adults their importance. These lessons are so important to a morally responsible society that all its citizens, not just those who volunteer for military service, must be made aware of them. Patriotism itself, of course, is a virtue, and pride in one's country, demonstrated by being willing to defend it, is an obligation that must be promoted. No more effective way of doing this exists than to require all citizens to enter military service, or an equivalent form of national service. Indeed, it should be regarded as a virtue itself to serve one's country. Thus the draft serves the purpose of guaranteeing that all of its citizens be exposed to the values of their nation, and be required to understand them. This makes each citizen aware of his or her moral obligations, and thus, in turn, makes the society—the collection of these individuals—one with higher moral standards and an increased ethical understanding of the central core of good citizenship. The draft effectively provides this and, thus, should be reinstated in order to establish these civic values.
Some Conclusions

There hasn't been a great deal of discussion of reinstating the draft, and most of those commenting on the issue agree that there is little popular or political support for doing so. That may make it seem as if debating the issue is a waste of time, but some valuable results emerge, from looking both at the arguments for and against reinstating the draft and at how ethicists might approach the problem.

Perhaps the most important result to consider is determining the obligations of a citizen. Is one to defend the country at any cost? Should all citizens agree, at least implicitly, with the oath sworn to by both those who enlist in the armed forces of the United States and the president, to defend their nation "against all enemies, foreign and domestic"? If citizens do incur such obligations as citizens, how are these values taught and maintained? Does the educational system do a sufficient job of emphasizing these values? If not, what other institutions are available to make sure all citizens understand and embrace them?

We also see emerge the question of whether or not national defense is a burden shared by only a part of those who benefit from it. Some who argue in favor of the draft have introduced the term free–riding. In economic theory, a free–rider is one who enjoys a benefit that he or she doesn't pay for. For example, a person who doesn't pay taxes, but still expects to enjoy the protection provided by the police, is a free–rider. Are those citizens who enjoy the freedoms and opportunities of their country free–riding on those who sacrifice their time and energy, and maybe even their health and lives, to defend those freedom and opportunities? Free–riding is generally thought to be unfair; if those who gain the benefits of a strong military aren't willing to make similar sacrifices, and thus free–ride, is this fair?

On the other hand, the insistence on the importance of freedom emerges as a result of this discussion, and those who advocate an all–volunteer force insist that those who defend freedom should do so freely. The military may well be a more cohesive and effective force if those who serve do so voluntarily. Some people may be particularly suited for military service, whereas others may not be very well–suited at all. An all–volunteer military can take advantage of this, and a voluntary force should thus lead to a situation where the military is a desirable option for many, and one that provides a great number of opportunities that may be otherwise unavailable. The law of supply and demand suggests that if a large number of people want a job that only a few of them can get, those hiring will be able to take only the most qualified. Clearly, if the military is a desirable career option, this law should hold as well, leading to a high–quality, productive, and effective fighting force.

Ethicists, of course, won't solve this debate with a simple, single answer that will satisfy everyone. Here again, we see that by raising this question, ethicists make clearer what is at stake: not just in terms of what is promoted by military service but what the relationship is between those who do serve and the larger society. Ethicists can also make clearer how we might attempt to resolve such a debate by making clearer what is at stake in each response, weighing the various conclusions put forth, and evaluating the evidence supporting—and failing to support—each of those conclusions. They may not solve the problems, but ethicists can do a great deal to make clearer what the problems are.
Where Do We Go from Here?

The U.S. Constitution is clear that the president serves as the commander in chief; thus, the highest military authority in the land is a civilian, not a member of the military. This suggests that civilian oversight was seen to be very important to those who drafted the Constitution. But it may also imply that good citizens should be informed about the military and understand its role within society.

Some on one side of the political spectrum criticize those on the other side for having too little respect for members of the armed forces; after all, no greater sacrifice can be made than that made by those who are willing to risk their life in the defense of their country. In response, some insist that the United States spends too much money on defense. They claim that it is a military designed to defend against a one–time threat such as the Soviet Union and point out that the United States spends more on defense than the next 45 highest–spending countries in the world combined and 48 percent of the world's total military spending (International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2008).

What are your thoughts on the relationship between the individual and society?

These issues, of course, fuel very active and often hostile debates, but for our purposes, the argument over reinstating the draft leads to more general questions about the relationship between a country and its armed services. What, fundamentally, is that relationship? Are some citizens better equipped than others to shoulder the burden of national defense? Or should all citizens contribute, in whatever way they best can, to that effort? What are the genuine military threats a country faces, and how are these determined and evaluated? Who makes a society's crucial decisions about whether to go to war, and what level of economic support should the military receive? Should all citizens have both an obligation to understand these issues and make their views known to those who represent them?

These questions, in turn, lead to an issue that continues to inform, in a fundamental way, all the questions we have been looking at and will continue to do so. What is the relationship between the individual and society? Is society nothing more than a collection of individuals, competing with each other and each seeking his or her self–interest? Or do individuals only understand themselves, at least in part, by the various roles they play in that society: as a parent, a child, a worker, a boss, an enlisted soldier, a commanding officer, among the many other social roles that identify all of us? Are there rights that pertain only to individuals, or do all discussions of rights involve a social dimension? That is, when people exercise certain rights, do they have to factor in the potential effects on others?

One simple example should make this clear. A person may have the right to drink to excess. That person, however, does not have the right to drive, for that would place others at risk, and thus their rights would be violated. Determining what rights, if any, do not bring with them questions of the larger social context is one we will continue to struggle with, and we will continue to see that drawing the line between the individual and society can become more difficult to draw the more carefully it is examined.
Do Those in the Military Risk Being Isolated in Society?

Particularly since the closing days of the Viet Nam conflict (the mid–1970s), both civilians and military personnel have expressed the concern that a division was beginning to be noticed between members of the armed services—particular the active personnel, rather than members of reserve forces—and the rest of society. The point was made earlier, with political scientist Samuel Huntington worrying in 1957 that the military has the outlook of an "estranged minority" (Huntington, 1957). These concerns have gotten increasing attention, again from both civilians and members of the military, particularly with the military operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. What, specifically, is the worry here?

It is natural that soldiers will identify more with those who understand their experiences. Some worry that the military is at risk of being isolated from broader society.

The military has a very distinct role in society, and its members tend to live in isolation from the rest of the population for much of the time they serve, whether at a military installation in the United States, or while being deployed overseas. Those in the military and their families tend to interact largely with others who are also in the military, all of whom live under the specific kinds of rules required by the military. These members of the armed forces, on the view being considered here, develop distinctive ways of looking at things, whether it be economics or politics or even specific cultural values. Those outside the military may share this perspective, but often they do not; the viewpoint may in fact serve to divide the two groups. After all, a soldier who has served two tours in Afghanistan may well understand the situation in a way that is entirely different from those who have not; if this soldier tends to be surrounded with others who share that viewpoint, an entire way of looking at Afghanistan, and its larger political context, is reinforced. Indeed, this soldier may be confident that those without the relevant experience have an inadequate understanding of that situation and are not sufficiently equipped to analyze or criticize it.

With an all–volunteer army, and with the increasing professionalization of the military as a career, questions have been raised whether those in the military are becoming a separate and distinct subgroup within the larger United States, with their own moral and cultural standards, and their own political and ethical viewpoints that can clash, often sharply, with the larger population as a whole.

The concern this raises must go in both directions for this view to have any merit. If those in the military are sufficiently isolated to develop distinct values from the rest of society, then those in each group will have difficulty understanding the viewpoint of those in the other group. Civilians do not understand the military way of life any more than members of the military understand the civilian way of life. Thus, it is worth worrying about if the current structure of the military, and how its members are recruited, does in fact increase the isolation of the military from other parts of society. If so, it may need to be asked further what can be done to minimize this effect. If not, it certainly is worth examining what is helping to prevent it. Fundamentally, it suggests examining the relationship between the military and the larger society—something perhaps not done enough by civilians or those in the military. For if the fear considered here is real, this kind of division could generate significant problems for that larger society. And, as Admiral Stanley Arthur observed about such a division, this is "not healthy in an armed force serving a democracy."
3.6
 Where We Have Been and Where We Are Going


Naturally enough, we started out looking at ethics. After figuring a bit about what ethics is, and why one might study it, we moved on to some ethical theories. We saw the classical theories of utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics, as well as some alternatives to those traditional theories: relativism, emotivism, and ethical egoism.

With a little theory under our belts, we turned to specific issues in ethics, particularly those that focus on individual rights: the right to bear arms and to have school prayer, as well the question of what rights employees retain in the workforce. We saw a historical debate about the right of women to vote and a contemporary debate over pornography. Even here we saw some difficulty in drawing a sharp distinction between individual rights, and the understanding of those rights in the larger context of society.

We then turned to rights that had a more explicit social component: questions about the death penalty, international business, and the environment. We also considered the historical issue of the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II and looked at a contemporary debate about reinstating the draft. Throughout these debates, we saw how ethical theory can be applied to these questions, and often saw how those theories can make our arguments more informed and more rigorous, even if they can solve the problem in a way everyone finds agreeable. But here the line between individual rights and society became still a bit less clear.

We will now look at ethical issues that confront, quite specifically, this relationship between an individual and society. We will try to clarify this relationship and understand what it means for an individual to have rights in relationship to others who live in that society, or even in another society. We will examine whether the very idea of a "victimless crime" makes sense, and how to determine where one person's rights begin to infringe on those of another person, or on the values of society as a whole. In addition to some specific case studies, we will again look at an ethical dispute from the past as well as a contemporary debate that has generated much controversy.

One important point should also begin to come into focus. When we discussed individual rights, they were examined from the perspective of the individual. But as we can see from this discussion, these rights affect a lot of people, enough to raise the question whether there are, really, individual rights at all. Is the context of rights always social? That is, can we really isolate the notion of an individual's right to do something (or be prevented from doing something) from the role that individual plays in society, and the role society itself plays in our understanding of such rights? As we go along, we will discover that a sharp line between the individual and society becomes increasingly difficult to draw.

It should be clear by now that ethics has a lot to offer, in articulating arguments, defending various positions, making debates clearer and more rigorous, and eliminating factors that aren't really relevant. But it may fall short of providing a solution everyone is happy to accept. So we can count on many of these ethical debates to continue.
Ch 3
 Some Final Questions


   1. Is the death penalty a kind of punishment that will always be justified, or might a society change its approach to punishment whereby it becomes regarded as either immoral, impractical, or ineffective? Explain.
   2. What kinds of legal safeguards are there in the United States to prevent wholesale discrimination against a group of people on the basis of race, religion, or ethnicity? Can these legal safeguards prevent such groups of people from being treated unjustly? Explain.
   3. What kind of steps might be taken to ensure that those who serve in the military feel part of the community for whom they risk their lives? What kind of steps might be taken to ensure that those who are not serving (or have not) served in the military can appreciate and understand the sacrifice and specific pressures on those who do serve?

Weblinks

This is a useful link for those who want more information about the death penalty:
http://www.deathpenaltyinfo.org/home

For more details on the Korematsu case:
http://www.nps.gov/history/history/online_books/anthropology74/index.htm

A series of discussions about specific issues related to "NIMBY":
http://www.nimbyexperts.com/ne-blog.html