The Morality of University Decision-Makers
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| Title: | The Morality of University Decision-Makers |
|---|---|
| Language: | English |
| Authors: | Hatier, Cécile |
| Source: | Studies in Higher Education. 2014 39(6):1085-1096. |
| Availability: | Routledge. Available from: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. 325 Chestnut Street Suite 800, Philadelphia, PA 19106. Tel: 800-354-1420; Fax: 215-625-2940; Web site: http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals |
| Peer Reviewed: | Y |
| Page Count: | 12 |
| Publication Date: | 2014 |
| Document Type: | Journal Articles Reports - Research |
| Education Level: | Higher Education Postsecondary Education |
| Descriptors: | Foreign Countries, Decision Making, Ethics, Role Models |
| Geographic Terms: | United Kingdom |
| DOI: | 10.1080/03075079.2013.777408 |
| ISSN: | 0307-5079 |
| Abstract: | Ethical failures in UK higher education have recently made the news but are not a recent development. University decision-makers can, in order to adopt an ethical way of reasoning, resort to several ethical traditions. This article focuses, through the use of concrete examples, on three which have had a significant impact in recent higher education policy: utilitarianism, in the form of stakeholder theory; principled theory, used in ethical codes of conduct; and virtue ethics, as interpreted by role model theory. It is argued that, although these traditions help clarify the immoral content of a decision, they also have their limits and shortcomings, and give a naive illusion of certainty. The moral reasoning of university decision-makers would instead benefit more from engaging with a theory less known in public management circles. It is the "dirty hands" theory used in political theory, which helps stress the centrality of choice and judgement in decision-making. |
| Abstractor: | As Provided |
| Number of References: | 30 |
| Entry Date: | 2014 |
| Accession Number: | EJ1031984 |
| Database: | ERIC |
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| FullText | Links: – Type: pdflink Url: https://content.ebscohost.com/cds/retrieve?content=AQICAHj0k_4E0hTGH8RJwT4gCJyBsGNe_WN95AvKlDbXJGqwxwGo-nN716pW5MlsCTZWtY35AAAA4jCB3wYJKoZIhvcNAQcGoIHRMIHOAgEAMIHIBgkqhkiG9w0BBwEwHgYJYIZIAWUDBAEuMBEEDID-NkkK6R6uSnc4EgIBEICBmr1FtolJRT5cvaLvCV-MOgvUuyoMNA0UsVNt5rinGlbiFHbYlP2tBz7ww8p0uS8ZPNvBjwoj-aJyv1mA8RR7srzr1SLQR7wyNR9LOXwKR5OOCtP8DyLQtcSQ-Pqwms8xk7oX-1w4t8b3nQ39BkxCZgG3E7K6edwE9WvZ6OMpK1zoMh_CFzEt_zcN9lGWd7flUP0ppR7jo5k15JE= Text: Availability: 1 Value: <anid>AN0096862185;she01jul.14;2019Mar19.12:43;v2.2.500</anid> <title id="AN0096862185-1">The morality of university decision-makers. </title> <p>Ethical failures in UK higher education have recently made the news but are not a recent development. University decision-makers can, in order to adopt an ethical way of reasoning, resort to several ethical traditions. This article focuses, through the use of concrete examples, on three which have had a significant impact in recent higher education policy: utilitarianism, in the form of stakeholder theory; principled theory, used in ethical codes of conduct; and virtue ethics, as interpreted by role model theory. It is argued that, although these traditions help clarify the immoral content of a decision, they also have their limits and shortcomings, and give a naive illusion of certainty. The moral reasoning of university decision-makers would instead benefit more from engaging with a theory less known in public management circles. It is the 'dirty hands' theory used in political theory, which helps stress the centrality of choice and judgement in decision-making.</p> <p>Keywords: ethics; decision-making; stakeholder; code of conduct; role model; judgement</p> <hd id="AN0096862185-2">Introduction</hd> <p>Given that a series of ethical lapses in British higher education (HE) have recently made the headlines, the morality (or lack of it) of university decision-makers deserves more scrutiny. The London School of Economics (LSE) saw its director resign in 2011 over a large donation by Saif Gaddafi, its former PhD student and son of the now deposed Libyan leader. The donation was widely described in the press as 'dirty money' originating from a dictator now out of favour with the international community. The suspect origin of revenues was also at stake in another controversy that same year, when the University of Wales was forced to withdraw the accreditation of courses with its partner institutions in the UK and abroad. It was accused of poor quality standards and bogus degrees (Matthews [<reflink idref="bib17" id="ref1">17</reflink>]). The list, however, does not stop at these two examples, and the academic literature shows that ethical failures are neither rare nor new (Kelley and Chang 2007). Although such misbehaviours may not appear of significant immorality to the unfamiliar eye – compared to more bloody and obvious evils – they raise many issues in a sphere which likes to see itself as embodying the public interest, and thus committing itself to virtuous practices and to a selfless pursuit of knowledge.</p> <p>Given this, how exactly does one assess whether an action is 'ethical' in higher education? The answer to this is, undoubtedly, linked with the vision one has of what an ideal university should be. The gap between the 'idea' of it (to borrow Cardinal Newman's famous phrase) and the reality of university practices is partially where its moral failures can be located. Many scholars have recently stressed those failures whilst redefining the moral ends of universities, either in response to the changes set out in the UK by the White Paper of 2010 (Campaign for the Public University [<reflink idref="bib7" id="ref2">7</reflink>]; Collini [<reflink idref="bib9" id="ref3">9</reflink>]), or in reaffirming what constitutes the public good within HE (Nussbaum [<reflink idref="bib19" id="ref4">19</reflink>]; Marginson [<reflink idref="bib16" id="ref5">16</reflink>]). Even though elements from these discussions are inevitably of relevance, this article is focused on a different approach to morality. The object of our scrutiny is restricted to ethical reasoning in the <emph>decision-making process</emph> in HE: namely, the instances when actions need to be carried out (for example, a department closed, or an admissions policy changed). In other words, our attention rests with the difficult but recurrent business of having to make choices, for which there is not always an obvious path to follow. Hence, it is <emph>moral reasoning</emph>, rather than morality as such, which will be the object of our study. It can be defined as 'the set of cognitive skills a manager employs to reason about a moral problem', according to Elm and Nichols (1993, 818).</p> <p>This article aims to assess which theoretical ethical frameworks could assist decision-makers when a verdict involving moral matters is about to be reached. By this we mean the major philosophical models that have dominated the discipline of ethics for a long time, but are not necessarily familiar to decision-makers with no philosophical background. This is not to say that other factors have no influence in the decision-making process: the particular dynamics of a team, the specific relationship between certain individuals, their mood, the context of the decision (time frame, etc.), the culture of the organisation, and so forth. These elements must, no doubt, be taken into account, but should be complemented with a more philosophical approach, which returns to some 'basics' of the discipline in an attempt to analyse their viability and limits. This, however, should be done with a pragmatic aim in mind, namely to engage managers with the moral components of their actions, and so the concepts will be illustrated with examples taken from current UK higher education settings.</p> <p>Amongst the many foundational ethical theories, the article focuses only on a few major ones, for reasons of space but also of relevance. The egoistic tradition ('do what you think is good for you as long as you are sure that it will not backfire') is put aside, even though it is a crucial stage in a prominent model of moral judgement, that of Kohlberg [<reflink idref="bib14" id="ref6">14</reflink>], who labels this initial stage 'preconventional level'. It is assumed, nevertheless, that decision-makers do not need long explanations to have a clear grasp of this. The other two levels of Kohlberg's theory do, on the contrary, deserve more scrutiny. They are the conventional level, inspired by the utilitarian tradition, and the post-conventional level, based on respect for ethical principles, in a deontological or Kantian fashion. Another level is added to this, in the form of virtue ethics, which has been more dominant in the past thirty years. All three of these traditions have had some impact on decision-making in HE, though it will be argued that their benefits have limitations and even negative effects, and that their implementation is therefore restricted. A fourth tradition, however, could be very useful if it were used in HE, even though its influence tends to currently be limited to politics: it is a theory of judgement and radical choice brought up by 'dirty hands' dilemmas, which show that reaching decisions is not a simple matter of applying a set of rules, and that conflicts of value may well be irresolvable.</p> <p>Each of the four ethical traditions will shortly be analysed in turn, and the argument is that the inadequacies of the first three can be downplayed by giving more space to the fourth. But beforehand, it is useful to briefly present the concrete HE cases which will be developed further in the course of the article, in order to illustrate these theories. Faced with tighter budgets, resulting mainly from a drop in income from undergraduate fees (itself the result of political decisions), many English universities are having to find new sources of income and reduce their expenses. One way of generating new income is by actively searching for donations from generous individuals. The LSE/Gaddafi scandal is a well-known case, but in general universities' alumni offices are working hard to develop fund-raising. The obvious moral issue resulting from donations is the identity of the donor, in particular how the money came into their hands, and their own agenda. Another new source of income is internationalisation – though it has an initial cost – which takes various forms. The most common is recruiting more international students, and a new way of doing it is by opening offshore campuses in countries like Cyprus, China or Malaysia, sometimes with a partner institution. Ethical questions can be posed about the quality of teaching and welfare provision (cf. the University of Wales's case), or the use of bribery and other practices denounced in the UK. Universities could also be accused of cultural hegemony.</p> <p>In order to reduce costs, universities have several options. One is to close an academic department, typically the foreign languages department (many of which have disappeared in the UK in the past 10 years, for instance in Bradford). This would be a department that does not recruit high numbers of students compared to, say, law, and is costly to run as it requires small classes, international multimedia access, languages labs, and the technicians to run them. At stake here, from a moral point of view, would be that the university would participate in the disappearance of a valuable subject; future students would be prevented from taking on languages, and therefore the academic desert would widen in the area, where many languages departments have already closed. It would also send a message to the younger generation that languages are not of worth, and are solely the preserve of the public school-educated elite. The multicultural feel of the university would also be partially damaged, and so would be its openness to the world. Finally, members of staff would be made redundant, which may create tensions and a sense of injustice. An institution can also resort to cutting its workforce costs in other ways. One possibility is outsourcing some of its non-academic departments, such as catering or human resources, to make efficiency savings. Another is to ask top earners to take a pay cut to give a sense of equity among employees, or to amend the contract of staff so as to replace, for instance, costly permanent academics with casual staff paid per hour they teach. The practical risks of doing these things are numerous: there is a big question mark over the future quality of service and thus the reputation of the institution, which could negatively impede on other revenues, such as those from research, consultancy, etc. To these are linked clear ethical matters, such as treating people (staff and students alike) with fairness and respect – partly by fostering a specific university identity and sense of community – and caring for the original missions of higher education (excellence in knowledge transfer and acquisition, but also the old-fashioned project of 'civilising' society). Let us see how all these can be assessed by the three classic ethical traditions.</p> <hd id="AN0096862185-3">Utilitarianism applied to higher education and the problem of 'the good of all'</hd> <p>Utilitarian ethics belongs to the wider ethical approach labelled 'consequentialism' because it concentrates on the consequences of actions, i.e. their various impacts on all people concerned (as opposed to the motives of an action, described in the next part). Utilitarians (such as Bentham and more recently Peter Singer) assess the morality of an action according to what they call the principle of 'utility', which is measured by an action's achievement in pleasure-seeking and pain avoidance (Bentham [<reflink idref="bib2" id="ref7">2</reflink>]). Its calculation varies depending on criteria drawn by these authors, such as the intensity, the duration of the pleasures and pains, or the quality of the pleasure (debates are ongoing about the criteria to use). The overall happiness of the society consists in the maximisation of utility for the greatest number of people in this society. This tradition is popular in the domain of business ethics, and by extension in public management, and its most common implementation takes the form of the stakeholder theory (Bowie [<reflink idref="bib4" id="ref8">4</reflink>]). When applied to higher education, it entails that the interests of a variety of parties must be taken on board: students and customers, employees, suppliers, other HE providers, the government, educational bodies, the law and society as a whole. The task is not simple, given the extreme diversity of interests within certain categories of stakeholders. But it has nevertheless become a common practice, with plenty of consultations and surveys organised at national and local levels. In the UK, the most well-known application of the stakeholder theory is the yearly National Student Survey (NSS). Consultations of employees are also regular, directly via surveys, or indirectly via trade union representation. Other stakeholders are also given a voice, often triggered by the government.</p> <p>Combining all these interests seems very ambitious, yet stakeholder theorists remain optimistic about the outcomes that can be achieved. The attraction towards this theory comes from its supposed rationality, and its related logical, scientific character, its sense of objectivity. Its implementation is viewed as mechanical: the various interests can be recorded, measured on the scale of utility, and combined to produce a university system that will satisfy the greatest number. Such a procedure would therefore have a clear democratic dimension. Going back to our examples, the millionaire's offer of a large donation to the university appears to be a win-win situation for all parties: the university can spend this new income to better the student experience, recruit staff, build new facilities, etc., whilst the donor will be pleased to have done a good deed. The happiness of the greatest number is achieved, and acceptance of the donation thus seems ethical. One objection, however, can be made in utilitarian terms: if society as a whole is to be included in the calculation, then questions must be asked about the origin of the sum offered: if it is the result of pain of a large number of individuals (e.g. the money is the result of theft or exploitation, as Gaddafi's gift was perceived), then happiness for the greatest number is not attained. If, on the other hand, no harm has resulted through the accumulation of income, then utilitarians would approve, as would be the case, for instance, with the £26 million donation of Mica Ertegun, the widow of the Atlantic Records founder, to Oxford University in 2012. With regard to international expansion, overseas students' satisfaction should be carefully monitored, as well as that of staff and of the communities in which new campuses are created, in order to avoid the accusation of imposing new forms of Western cultural imperialism. The impact on the 'old' campuses should also be taken into account. But again, this looks like a potential win-win situation in utilitarian terms.</p> <p>Things become trickier with spending cuts, as by definition they create a lot of dissatisfaction, whether through pay cuts, job cuts, or departmental and services closures. Basic utilitarian reasoning recommends that the majority of people should be satisfied, even if it means that a minority suffers. From this point of view, it is moral to 'sacrifice' one service or one team for the greater good of the whole university. Another utilitarian concept, decreasing marginal utility, can also justify pay cuts for the highest earners. According to this view, after a certain threshold, the satisfaction created by financial wealth is not very consequent and is best redistributed elsewhere (Singer [<reflink idref="bib25" id="ref9">25</reflink>], 242). Despite often being portrayed as individualistic, utilitarian ethics is in fact a great leveller.</p> <p>If the utilitarian way of reasoning can help clarify some ethical dilemmas encountered by university decision-makers, the latter should nevertheless be aware of its limitations and shortcomings. The first and most obvious one is that, in reality, stakeholders are not equal, and some have more influence than others, the government in particular. It is clear that, despite the rhetoric, British universities are not completely autonomous. They have to comply with political decisions: in many ways it is the political stakeholder who decides, for instance, what 'public good' university should achieve. In this regard, the hands of HE decision-makers are tied. A second defect of utilitarian thinking also needs stressing: at its roots is the fundamentally misleading assumption that morals are based on a simple measure of interests, which can easily be ascertained. This fallacy has repeatedly been exposed by opponents of utilitarian ethics (Williams [<reflink idref="bib30" id="ref10">30</reflink>]). It is a myth that all stakeholders are in full knowledge and control of what their real interests are, and that these interests are largely fixed. What is, in this view, the student 'interest'? Is it to get on a cheap course with little 'theory', few unchallenging assessments, and to obtain a grade-inflated degree whilst having the time to enjoy the brand new university sports facilities? Or is it to be intellectually challenged – to have a hard and testing time acquiring skills and knowledge that they didn't think were necessarily valuable in the first place? Collini [<reflink idref="bib9" id="ref11">9</reflink>] and Vincent [<reflink idref="bib28" id="ref12">28</reflink>] have already forcefully stressed the limits of the analogy between student and consumer.</p> <p>Calculating the utility of each stakeholder may therefore prove very tricky, but not as tricky as that of society as a whole. This brings us to a third and most contentious problem: it is notoriously difficult, and perhaps even hazardous, to define the 'greatest happiness of the greatest number', or, to use a simpler phrase, the 'good of all'. For universities, it has historically meant enhancing knowledge and understanding through teaching and research. More recently, though, political leaders have controversially come to include contribution to national 'economic growth', and a task of 'strengthen[ing] civil society' (Browne Report [<reflink idref="bib5" id="ref13">5</reflink>]). If such criteria are taken into account, then the languages department should be expanding, not closing, given that businesses, through representatives like the Confederation of British Industry (CBI), repeatedly claim that Britain needs more workers with linguistic skills. But how do we know which disciplines will be of more use to the economy of the future? Furthermore, how easily can universities combine economic and social targets? At a more conceptual level, philosophers like Rousseau have pointed out that 'the public good' is not identical to 'the will of all', which is the simple aggregation of the private interests of all members of a society (1993). What should guide decision-making is the 'general will', which results from reflection on what is best for the community as a whole, regardless of one's sectional interest. To illustrate the difference, a British taxpayer who has no children and runs a small retail outlet may not see any <emph>personal</emph> interest in having public money invested in language courses. But she may nevertheless have a sense that the 'public good' could be enhanced, and the values of global citizenship and prosperity fostered. Serious outcomes result from the refusal of utilitarian ethicists to give weight to this distinction. One is that individuals are treated as mere means, not ends in themselves, and that a majority of people would happily sacrifice the interests of a minority, its livelihood and identity with no moral regret (Williams [<reflink idref="bib30" id="ref14">30</reflink>]). Concretely, in HE, it would mean that (a defined number of) employees are reduced to a tool to achieve the satisfaction of (a greater number of) students. Other ethical theories condemn such actions as unethical, the deontological one in particular, which now deserves scrutiny.</p> <hd id="AN0096862185-4">The deontological tradition and ethical codes of practice</hd> <p>Whereas utilitarian ethics focuses on the consequences of actions, the deontological tradition concentrates on the motives behind decision-making. Roughly speaking, this tradition, whose most famous representative is Immanuel Kant, recommends compliance with a few overarching imperatives which entail duties. Kant himself, for example, insisted that individuals should always be treated as ends in themselves, not means to the satisfaction of others; the autonomy (in the sense of self-mastery) of individuals is also central. Crucial for deontologists is the nature of the process through which deeds are carried out: if an action produces ethical results but the means used to achieve them are not ethical according to <emph>a priori</emph> imperatives, then the action is wrong. Applied to the world of work, this frame of reasoning has led to several practices, the most dominant of which are currently 'ethical codes of practice', 'codes of conduct', 'statements' or 'policies' on 'corporate social responsibility' (CSR). They broadly contain lists of dos and don'ts about 'professional' and 'ethical' standards of behaviour. Although, strictly speaking, not all of these items are necessarily related to morality, their content is stated in an attempt to clarify duties in a specific context (their virtuous dimension will be dealt with when discussing virtue ethics).</p> <p>Codes of conduct abound in British higher education. They are produced by individual universities (such as a students' charter, or a CSR statement), or follow guidance from various national or international codes, such as the European Charter for Researchers (European Commission [<reflink idref="bib11" id="ref15">11</reflink>]). They are meant to provide a strict ethical framework, and obedience to it is perceived as facilitating moral behaviour in HE. Several scholars have recently attempted to compile codes specific to HE. To give just one example, Sharrock ([<reflink idref="bib24" id="ref16">24</reflink>], 369) proposes developing two 'Hippocratic oaths for HE', one for academics, one for managers, the former comprising the following: 'dare to know, be responsible, transparent, collegial, respectful, open-minded', etc. The reasoning behind such practices is familiar to a large strand of Kantian-inspired theorists: through the production of universal and neutral criteria, and their rational and procedural implementation, a fair system can be achieved.</p> <p>Looking at the example of the donation, it must be noted that the Council for Advancement and Support of Education (CASE 2011) makes available to its members (universities across the world) various statements on ethics and principles of practice for fundraising. Some principles relate to the source of the money (no individual should have been used as a means, i.e. exploited, for the specific aim of the donation); others insist on making sure that the motives of the donor are not unethical, e.g. exercising influence on the results of a piece of research. Some purists, however, argue that public universities should only be funded through the tax system, as no donation is ever laudable in its motives (many of which are driven by a sole desire to avoid tax). The principled approach does not, however, resolve all ethical conundrums raised by gifts from controversial figures such as Rupert Murdoch to Oxford University. The same can be said in the case of our other examples, even though they are covered by more and more codes of conduct. Such codes can in fact prove to be more of a hindrance than a service to moral reasoning in decision-making. Let us see why.</p> <p>Advocates of codes of conduct are themselves aware of some of their limitations. The most obvious is that the codes mustn't go unheeded, and fall on deaf ears. Their success relies on their implementation, which is why HE management experts stress the role of ethical training courses and refreshers, audits and the like. It cannot be denied that spelling out some crucial norms regularly helps enlighten the least reflective amongst us. Nevertheless, the pitfalls of codes of conduct are more substantial than this. Some result from the terminology used, which is seen as too vague and generic, and therefore impossible to apply unless you are a professional philosopher. What does it mean, for instance, to be 'respectful' and 'open-minded' when dealing with overseas students? If they are to be treated as ends in themselves, we should not attempt to use their considerably high fees simply to balance the university accounts. The autonomy of these students must be promoted by good-quality teaching and welfare, and the setting up of offshore campuses must not involve unethical means such as bribery, etc. But respecting their culture could also mean adapting to practices that are unethical in the British mind, like giving presents, or adopting a more distant and hierarchical approach to relationships between staff and students. The principle, therefore, does not solve everything.</p> <p>Other scholars, however, welcome the broadness of some principles, because they leave scope for interpretation, and instead condemn policies which tend to enter into excessive detail about how to assess behaviours. Critics fear that the increasing number of policies (paired with audits and other forms of monitoring) is a sign of a society that has lost its sense of trust (Putman [<reflink idref="bib21" id="ref17">21</reflink>]; O'Neill [<reflink idref="bib20" id="ref18">20</reflink>]). The increasing culture of mistrust in HE governance has already been pointed out by Vidovich and Currie [<reflink idref="bib27" id="ref19">27</reflink>]. These policies do not relate much with the Kantian project any more, and their ethical objectives can be called into question. That is not to say that we should have blind confidence in all HE participants. We have to be aware that some may have bad intentions. But it is quite possible that the other extreme has now been reached, and that ethical codes of practices are now being compiled for a very cynical reason, namely the fear of litigation, or, as Camilla Stivers ([<reflink idref="bib26" id="ref20">26</reflink>], 141) nicely puts it, in order to 'cover your anatomy', put politely. Taking the example of efficiency savings, pay or staff cuts could easily be 'ethically justified' by the non-compliance of individuals to petty 'principles' like 'staff must reply to queries within two working days' or 'staff should not print or photocopy anything unless absolutely essential'.</p> <p>Finally, codes of conduct (but not deontological thinking as such) contain many items that are not easily compatible (cf. the respect and open-mindedness example when dealing with other cultures), and thus may not easily be applied in a purely mechanical manner. There is some unease about an understanding of moral reasoning that consists in a box-ticking exercise, as it seems to present the parties concerned as robots. The risk is best described via an anecdote reported in Stivers, whose colleague 'used to tell [his] students: if you don't know the difference between what you've been ordered to do and what you would do if you could, then you are just a hired gun' (2008, 146). One essential ingredient is missing in the compliance to ethical codes, namely judgement, without which, it will be argued later, the exercise of moral reasoning remains incomplete. But before doing so, the tradition of virtue ethics needs to be applied to HE.</p> <hd id="AN0096862185-5">Role model theory and its dangers</hd> <p>Virtuous ethics, presented by Aristotle or, more recently, MacIntyre, sees morality in the fulfilment of a virtuous life of excellence. Applied to the public sector (and deviating quite drastically from its original meaning), it insists on the moral necessity for civil servants (managers mainly) to see themselves as stewards of the public, 'servants' in the original sense of the term. Behind this moral stand is the view that the civil service is a vocation, almost a calling, which entails virtuous behaviour based on self-sacrifice. The example of the Hippocratic oath discussed earlier conveys this dimension of dedication. It has, however, a symbolic dimension that makes it depart from the procedural rationalism of the deontological method. Instead, it stresses that the achievement of one's personal virtues is inherently linked with that of one's role. In other words, to be good is to do good. Adopting virtuous conduct implies setting an example to others, being a role-model figure, and not bringing the profession into disrepute.</p> <p>But what does it entail to be 'virtuous' in higher education? The notion can be interpreted in various ways (Bruhn et al. [<reflink idref="bib6" id="ref21">6</reflink>]). In the cases that concern us, it could entail that staff would happily accept pay cuts, thus proving how dedicated they are to younger generations. This is especially the case for the highest earners, who would also want to bring a sense of equity among the workforce. This may sound far-fetched, but the symbolic force of such a gesture has in fact been evidenced in the political sphere, when the British Cabinet in 2010, and the French president in 2012, reduced their respective salaries on arriving in power. It can even be imagined that some individuals would be prepared to offer their resignation (or work for free? Look at the thousands of volunteers who contributed to the success of the London 2012 Olympics) to save what they would see as a worthwhile institution or project. There can be no doubt that donors also desire to make honourable use of their fortune (they should therefore give more than a tiny proportion of their wealth).</p> <p>The issue with virtuous behaviour is that its content is difficult to define: what one individual regards as a crucial element in fulfilling a role is not necessarily considered so by another. Furthermore, virtuous achievement in one role may have negative repercussions on another role that any same person exercises (such as being a family's main breadwinner). Role model duties can be far-reaching and could extend to elements which are not, as such, related to the profession. There is a recent tendency to measure the virtue of public figures, including HE decision-makers, in relation to facts such as: whether they smoke, send their children to public schools, drive a 4x4 car, etc. Going down this route, there comes a point where being a 'good' academic or executive is identical to being a 'good' person or citizen. The implication is that the boundaries between the public (i.e. one's professional role) and the private become blurred, and that public and private moralities merge. Should we be worried about the potential invasion of privacy that such moral reasoning may lead to? It can be argued that we should, with perhaps one small exception, that of individuals who hold essentially symbolic and honorific roles and are thus chosen for the virtues they supposedly embody. This is the case of chancellors in HE. It would entail, for instance, that the position of Lord Ashcroft, Chancellor (and generous donor) of Anglia Ruskin University, ought to have been under threat in 2010 after revelations of his non-dom tax status. Nevertheless, for the vast majority of individuals involved in higher education, the dangers of conflating private and public morality are evident. Such an approach goes down the slippery slope of requiring perfect behaviour that cannot be known since what constitutes perfect behaviour is essentially evolving. Reaching the adequate 'virtuous' behaviour proves impossible, and individuals become open to constant criticism. For example, an academic who refuses to socialise with her students (or a manager with her junior employees) could be blamed for remaining too distant, whilst another could be blamed for doing the opposite, on the grounds that it leaves them unable to impartially assess the students' work (or employee's contribution). Individuals could become threatened not only in their professional position, but in their choice of lifestyle more generally. Reasoning in terms of 'role models' shows, therefore, its limitations.</p> <p>To sum up, the three main ethical traditions discussed can provide food for thought to university decision-makers, but have their own flaws if applied in a strict manner. They tend to create an illusion of certainty about decision-making where ethical reasoning is, in fact, substantially trickier. Whether they can easily be combined to produce cumulative advantages is also doubtful. The level of complexity in ethical reasoning is thus best understood through another theory, borrowed from political theory but that can be applied to HE.</p> <hd id="AN0096862185-6">Ethical decision-making and dirty hands</hd> <p>A whole strand of the political theory literature discusses 'dirty hands' dilemmas and their implications. Though such a topic is briefly referred to in some higher education management sources (Larsen, Maassen, and Stensaker [<reflink idref="bib15" id="ref22">15</reflink>]), it remains largely untouched. It is therefore anticipated that an in-depth study of this field could provide a useful complement for a fuller understanding of ethical reasoning in HE. What dirty hands theory insists on, roughly, is that decision-making is not a mechanical task (<emph>contra</emph> some tendencies described earlier). It is neither a mere repetition of previous decisions, nor the systematic application of rules. It involves, instead, a certain level of interpretation, of discretion, of speculation about the outcomes. This is why, for instance, the political theorist Hannah Arendt fiercely condemned the 'conventional, standardized codes of expression and conduct', which she accused of having 'the socially recognized function of protecting us against reality', as they impede our personal judgement (2003, 160). The main reason why decision-making is such a tricky task is because ends (i.e. values) collide. They don't always do so, and even when they do, there are instances when it is possible to find a 'lesser evil'. However, refusing to admit that values conflict is a sign of narrow-mindedness. As Isaiah Berlin ([<reflink idref="bib3" id="ref23">3</reflink>], 15) pointed out, a 'final solution' to a moral quandary is often a dangerous illusion. What Berlin means is that there is no overarching standard to follow, and that even people with the same values will not necessarily make similar judgements. When deciding, we are left with a void, in a state of undecidability. Remaining in such a state is, however, not only undesirable but in fact impossible. The case of Buridan's donkey, who found himself placed at equal distance between two stacks of hay, and starved to death because he was unable to decide which side to use, is a stark reminder of the dangers of indecision, but also of how difficult it can be to act. For Berlin, values can be 'incommensurable': it does not mean that they are all equal (he is not relativist), but that they cannot be compared. The reason for this is not an imperfection in our knowledge, which (if it were to be compensated) could result in a possible comparison. For Berlin, there is simply no common currency for value measurement.</p> <p>Decision-makers like politicians encounter 'dirty hands' scenarios involving incommensurable values: given the complexity of a context and the incompatibility of the moral values to be rescued, 'something morally disagreeable is required' (Williams [<reflink idref="bib30" id="ref24">30</reflink>], 60). They are damned if they take a specific course of action, but equally damned if they don't. To put it bluntly, the politician cannot stay pure. The most radical illustration of dirty hands in politics is, no doubt, the 'ticking bomb' scenario (Walzer [<reflink idref="bib29" id="ref25">29</reflink>]): a terrorist, the story goes in some variations, is in your custody, and you know that he knows the location of an explosive device which will be set off in a matter of hours. Will you be prepared to order his torture to get the information that will save civilian lives, even though you disagree with the use of torture? The moral quandary posed by this case is quite easily solvable from the point of view of a consequentialist: if the overall happiness of society is guaranteed despite the loss of dignity of one man, then so be it. Similarly, for a Kantian, facing the dilemma is simple: torture is always wrong, as it treats a person as a means not an end. So the politician will not proceed with the torture, and will not feel guilty about the possibly horrendous outcomes of her actions. The likes of Berlin, Walzer and Williams, however, argue that these two stands are phenomenologically counterintuitive. Whatever she does, the politician will experience deeply the conflict between incommensurable values and with it a sense of loss – labelled guilt, 'moral remainder', or 'agent regret'.</p> <p>Despite these dilemmas, choices are inevitable, and therefore personal judgement is crucial. Relying on individual judgement can be viewed negatively. It is bad news because the tough decisions to be made are nothing but a moral tragedy in themselves. The tragic nature of decision-making, the irreparable loss that occurs, is ever present in Berlin's writings, and contrasts sharply with the optimism of CSR reasoning, for instance. That is not to say that Berlin does not believe in settlements through compromise. But he reminds us that moral reasoning is an agonising exercise in the constant demise of some of our most valued principles. Radical choices can, furthermore, be interpreted as verging on arbitrariness, since the absence of an Archimedean moral standpoint leaves much leeway to decision-makers. There is a genuine fear that they will be too subjective or prejudiced. Worse, decision-making could be seen as a form of decisionism, which combines irrationalism (distrust in reason) with relativism and nihilism (seeing all moral values as equally redundant).</p> <p>However, this is a misunderstanding of choice and judgement, which must be presented in a more positive light. Our capacity for judgement is remarkable because it is a sign of our humanity. Because we are not robots, we <emph>make</emph> decisions, and not merely <emph>infer</emph> them and <emph>conform to</emph> rules. This makes us unique according to Arendt. Her definition of judgement is complex, but can be summed up as a combination of two elements. One is 'thinking', which consists in a dialogue with yourself, during which you exercise your power of imagination and empathy to assess possible alternatives. Judgement renders thinking manifest, and creates the link between the general sense of rule obtained by thinking and the particular context of a situation (Arendt [<reflink idref="bib1" id="ref26">1</reflink>], 137, 188). Hence it is crucial not to leave out the second element, known as phronesis, or practical wisdom. It now becomes clear that judgement is remote from prejudice and subjectivity: it involves intersubjectivity, goes beyond opinions, and is also a 'child of reason' in its capacity for critical thinking (Schedler [<reflink idref="bib23" id="ref27">23</reflink>], 24). Finally, moral conundrums are a sign of the richness of our moral lives (Gray [<reflink idref="bib12" id="ref28">12</reflink>]). This means that the diversity of ways of flourishing is expressed through our freedom of choice and self-creation. Our choices, ultimately, bear testimony for who we want to be, and how we want to be portrayed. The prioritisation of certain values will therefore reflect the personal, psychological, and even ideological, position of the practitioner. In the case of higher education, decision-making reflects how university decision-makers want to be understood individually, but also what identity, and moral culture, they want their institution to have.</p> <p>Looking back at the dilemma resulting from the necessity to balance the university accounts, it must be stressed that none of the possibilities are ideal, value-neutral. Whatever decision you take, there will be practical and moral damage. There will be bad things done that cannot be undone. Even the apparently straightforward solution of accepting a donation can easily backfire, as the LSE case shows. All stakeholders will suffer, though not at the same level, depending on which options are chosen. To focus solely on students, their learning experience might (though nothing is certain) be damaged more by the loss of experienced academics than by outsourcing catering; the would-be linguists will suffer more than others from the closure of the languages departments; local and international students may lose (through poor standards and absent staff on 'flying faculty') or gain (through good value for money) from the opening of offshore campuses. Faced with uncertainty, decision-makers can adopt a position that will emphasise certain elements of their personality: they may want to be perceived as drivers of innovation. In this case, they would not be afraid of making radical cuts (to whole departments) and new investments (abroad), even though they would then be accused of lack of duty of care and opportunism. On the other hand, they could prefer to be seen as good administrators, in the sense of looking after their staff and maintaining a maximum of subjects on offer (even if with reduced capacities), in which case lack of a vision could be a criticism. The ideological stand of educationalists also ultimately shows in their decisions: some may favour elitism, whilst others want to widen participation to lower classes, regardless of the political agenda; some favour vocational courses and elements that boost the 'professional' skills of their students, whilst others believe in the role of generic subjects such as the arts and humanities. Some may decide to reduce the teaching of students altogether, as they see universities as the main source of scientific discoveries, whereas others prefer to focus on the mission of 'civilising' the young, at home and overseas. In any case, they ultimately rely on more than traditional ethical theories: their judgement is the main driver of decision-making. They cannot hide away from individual responsibility.</p> <hd id="AN0096862185-7">Conclusion</hd> <p>Decision-makers, in HE and elsewhere, are keen on quick ethical fixes which allow them to forget about the ethical dimension of their decisions, and to focus on their many other chores. But decision-making contains an element of moral uncertainty which no ethical theory can remove entirely. Good intentions and careful ethical calculations ultimately do not guarantee ethical results. Asserting the centrality of judgement and choice offers educationalists no real comfort, which will undoubtedly frustrate them. What it stresses, however, is that they cannot shy away from the burden of responsibility, and must avoid being the 'victims of forms of self-induced myopia, blinkers that may make for contentment, but not for understanding of what it is to be human' (Berlin [<reflink idref="bib3" id="ref29">3</reflink>], 14). Are HE decision-makers ready to dirty their hands, and face the guilt and regret entailed? Furthermore, beyond those in the highest position in academia, are academics also prepared to meet the challenge of dirty hands, in a context where the very conception of the university is deeply threatened? Leaving behind the ivory tower is the first step in the fight against the apathy of many academics who happily let others stain their hands on their behalf.</p> <hd id="AN0096862185-8">Acknowledgements</hd> <p>I would like to thank Yasemin Erden for inviting me to a Royal Institute of Philosophy Lecture at Saint Mary's University College, London, to present an earlier version of this paper, and participants for their questions and comments.</p> <ref id="AN0096862185-9"> <title> References </title> <blist> <bibl id="bib1" idref="ref26" type="bt">1</bibl> <bibtext> Arendt, H. 2003. Responsibility and judgement. ed. J. Kohn New York: Schocken.</bibtext> </blist> <blist> <bibl id="bib2" idref="ref7" type="bt">2</bibl> <bibtext> Bentham, J. 1982. An introduction to the principles of morals and legislation. London: Methuen.</bibtext> </blist> <blist> <bibl id="bib3" idref="ref23" type="bt">3</bibl> <bibtext> Berlin, I. 1991. The crooked timber of humanity. 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Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.</bibtext> </blist> </ref> <aug> <p>By Cécile Hatier</p> <p>Reported by Author</p> </aug> <nolink nlid="nl1" bibid="bib17" firstref="ref1"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl2" bibid="bib19" firstref="ref4"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl3" bibid="bib16" firstref="ref5"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl4" bibid="bib14" firstref="ref6"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl5" bibid="bib25" firstref="ref9"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl6" bibid="bib30" firstref="ref10"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl7" bibid="bib28" firstref="ref12"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl8" bibid="bib11" firstref="ref15"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl9" bibid="bib24" firstref="ref16"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl10" bibid="bib21" firstref="ref17"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl11" bibid="bib20" firstref="ref18"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl12" bibid="bib27" firstref="ref19"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl13" bibid="bib26" firstref="ref20"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl14" bibid="bib15" firstref="ref22"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl15" bibid="bib29" firstref="ref25"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl16" bibid="bib23" firstref="ref27"></nolink> <nolink nlid="nl17" bibid="bib12" firstref="ref28"></nolink> |
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| Items | – Name: Title Label: Title Group: Ti Data: The Morality of University Decision-Makers – Name: Language Label: Language Group: Lang Data: English – Name: Author Label: Authors Group: Au Data: <searchLink fieldCode="AR" term="%22Hatier%2C+Cécile%22">Hatier, Cécile</searchLink> – Name: TitleSource Label: Source Group: Src Data: <searchLink fieldCode="SO" term="%22Studies+in+Higher+Education%22"><i>Studies in Higher Education</i></searchLink>. 2014 39(6):1085-1096. – Name: Avail Label: Availability Group: Avail Data: Routledge. Available from: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. 325 Chestnut Street Suite 800, Philadelphia, PA 19106. Tel: 800-354-1420; Fax: 215-625-2940; Web site: http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals – Name: PeerReviewed Label: Peer Reviewed Group: SrcInfo Data: Y – Name: Pages Label: Page Count Group: Src Data: 12 – Name: DatePubCY Label: Publication Date Group: Date Data: 2014 – Name: TypeDocument Label: Document Type Group: TypDoc Data: Journal Articles<br />Reports - Research – Name: Audience Label: Education Level Group: Audnce Data: <searchLink fieldCode="EL" term="%22Higher+Education%22">Higher Education</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="EL" term="%22Postsecondary+Education%22">Postsecondary Education</searchLink> – Name: Subject Label: Descriptors Group: Su Data: <searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Foreign+Countries%22">Foreign Countries</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Decision+Making%22">Decision Making</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Ethics%22">Ethics</searchLink><br /><searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22Role+Models%22">Role Models</searchLink> – Name: Subject Label: Geographic Terms Group: Su Data: <searchLink fieldCode="DE" term="%22United+Kingdom%22">United Kingdom</searchLink> – Name: DOI Label: DOI Group: ID Data: 10.1080/03075079.2013.777408 – Name: ISSN Label: ISSN Group: ISSN Data: 0307-5079 – Name: Abstract Label: Abstract Group: Ab Data: Ethical failures in UK higher education have recently made the news but are not a recent development. University decision-makers can, in order to adopt an ethical way of reasoning, resort to several ethical traditions. This article focuses, through the use of concrete examples, on three which have had a significant impact in recent higher education policy: utilitarianism, in the form of stakeholder theory; principled theory, used in ethical codes of conduct; and virtue ethics, as interpreted by role model theory. It is argued that, although these traditions help clarify the immoral content of a decision, they also have their limits and shortcomings, and give a naive illusion of certainty. The moral reasoning of university decision-makers would instead benefit more from engaging with a theory less known in public management circles. It is the "dirty hands" theory used in political theory, which helps stress the centrality of choice and judgement in decision-making. – Name: AbstractInfo Label: Abstractor Group: Ab Data: As Provided – Name: Ref Label: Number of References Group: RefInfo Data: 30 – Name: DateEntry Label: Entry Date Group: Date Data: 2014 – Name: AN Label: Accession Number Group: ID Data: EJ1031984 |
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| RecordInfo | BibRecord: BibEntity: Identifiers: – Type: doi Value: 10.1080/03075079.2013.777408 Languages: – Text: English PhysicalDescription: Pagination: PageCount: 12 StartPage: 1085 Subjects: – SubjectFull: Foreign Countries Type: general – SubjectFull: Decision Making Type: general – SubjectFull: Ethics Type: general – SubjectFull: Role Models Type: general – SubjectFull: United Kingdom Type: general Titles: – TitleFull: The Morality of University Decision-Makers Type: main BibRelationships: HasContributorRelationships: – PersonEntity: Name: NameFull: Hatier, Cécile IsPartOfRelationships: – BibEntity: Dates: – D: 01 M: 01 Type: published Y: 2014 Identifiers: – Type: issn-print Value: 0307-5079 Numbering: – Type: volume Value: 39 – Type: issue Value: 6 Titles: – TitleFull: Studies in Higher Education Type: main |
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