What your email signature says about you

Getting too many unethical business requests? Sreedhari Desai’s research suggests a quote in your email signature may be the answer to your woes.

In a recent study Desai enrolled subjects to participate in a virtual game to earn money. The subjects were told they’d earn more money if they could convince their fellow players to spread a lie without knowing about it. Basically, subjects had to trick their fellow players into believing a lie, and then get those other players to spread the lie around the game.

What subjects didn’t know is that all their fellow ‘players’ were in fact researchers studying how they would go about their deception. Subjects communicated with the researchers by email. Some researchers had a virtuous quote underneath their email – “Success without honor is worse than fraud”. Others had a neutral quote in their email signature – “Success and luck go hand in hand”. Others had no quote at all.

And wouldn’t you know it? Subjects were less likely to try to recruit people with a virtuous quote in their email. The quote served as a “moral symbol”, shielding the person from receiving unethical requests from other players. In an interview with Harvard Business Review, Desai outlines what’s happening in these situations:

When someone is in a position to request an unethical thing, they may not consciously be thinking, “I won’t ask that person.” Instead, they may perceive a person as morally “pure” and feel that asking them to get “dirty” makes an ethical transgression even worse. Or they may be concerned that someone with moral character will just refuse the request.

So, if you want to keep your hands clean it may be as simple as updating your email signature. It won’t guarantee you’ll do the right thing when you’re tempted (there’s more to ethics than pretty words!) but it will ensure you’re tempted less.

There are other, more expensive ways to avoid unethical approaches via email.

And in case you’re looking for a virtuous quote for your email signature, we surveyed some of our staff for their favourite virtuous quotes. Here’s a sample:

  • “The unexamined life is not worth living” – Socrates
  • “No man wishes to possess the whole world if he must first become someone else” – Aristotle
  • “Protect me from what I want” – Jenny Holzer
  • “A true man goes on to the end of his endurance and then goes twice as far again” – Norwegian proverb
  • “Knowledge is no guarantee of good behaviour, but ignorance is a virtual guarantee of bad behaviour” – Martha Nussbaum

A small disclaimer to all of this – it might not work if you work with Australians. Apparently our propensity to cut down tall poppies and our discomfort for authority extend to moral postulations in email signatures. Instead of sanctimony, Aussies are likely to protect people with fun or playful quotes in their emails. Desai explains:

“We’re studying how people react to moral symbols in Australia. Our preliminary study showed that people there were sceptical of moral displays. They seemed to think the bloke with the quote was being ‘holier than thou’ and probably had something to hide.”

So, as well as your favourite virtuous quote, you might want to bung a joke on the bottom of your emails to please your sceptical Antipodean colleagues, lest they lead you into temptation.


Your donation is only as good as the charity you give it to

It’s admirable, perhaps even required, for those of us living comfortable lives in the developed world to give some time or money to ‘good causes’. We recognise fortune has smiled upon us and have a desire to ‘give back’ in some way – we have so much and others have so little, we seek to redress it.

But while there is strong agreement the fortunate have an opportunity – some would say an obligation – to use their resources to make life better for the less well-off, the discussion often ends here. That is, we think people should do something but we’re often not concerned with exactly what that something is. Should you donate to a local homeless shelter, a national medical research charity or a big international NGO? For many people, it’s unclear there’s any difference between these actions – surely they all make the world a better place?

Let’s think about that.

Say there were only two charities in the world, The Cupcake Foundation and the Real Actual Medicines Trust. The Cupcake Foundation distributes delicious cupcakes to people in hospital. The Real Actual Medicines Trust distributes medicines that will completely cure a patient’s disease. Both charities are undeniably making the world a better place but it’s pretty clear that one is doing much more good than the other. I think most people would choose to donate their money to The Real Actual Medicines Trust.

Asking these questions gets to the heart of why it is we help people. Are we altruistic because we think that making others better off is good in and of itself? Or do we just do it to stave off our middle-class guilt?

Take a different example. Let’s say that a third charity, Medicines ’R Us, is also distributing medicines, but they use generic medicines that cost half as much to produce as the on-brand medicines distributed by The Real Actual Medicines Trust. This means that a $20 donation to the Medicines ‘R Us will cure twice as many people as a $20 donation to the Real Actual Medicines Trust. Surely – given we can do twice as much good donating to the former than the latter – we should give our money to Medicines ‘R Us, thus doubling our impact.

These seem like contrived examples, but in reality, the differences between charities are astounding – not just a factor of two or three times, as in the example above, but some are ten, or even 100 times more effective than others!

Asking these questions gets to the heart of why it is we help people. Are we altruistic because we think that making others better off is good in and of itself? Or do we just do it to stave off our middle-class guilt? To impress other people? To show off?

Undoubtedly many good works are motivated by these latter factors. But are they really good reasons? Are they the reasons we’d choose? I’d certainly like to think that when I donate to charity I’m doing it for the benefit of other people. The sense of wellbeing that I get afterwards is nice but ultimately not morally important.

If it’s really other people’s benefit we care about, we need to think hard about how we choose where we spend our time and money on good causes. We don’t have infinite time and money. Every choice to donate something to one cause is an implicit choice not to donate it to another.

It might seem harsh to judge any charity less effective than any other another. Doesn’t that mean that the people served by the less-effective charity lose out? It does. But not making comparisons doesn’t mean everyone gets the help they need. It means that people who would be helped by the more effective charities lose out. More people are becoming sick, even dying, because people are choosing not to donate more effectively.

In the long run, hopefully we’ll be in a position to eradicate extreme poverty and disease from the world and we’ll have enough resources to fund all good causes. In the meantime, we should surely help as many people as we can.

Effective Altruism, a new social and philosophical movement is emerging to try to answer a fundamental question – “what is the most good that we can do?”

Effective altruism is about using evidence and reason to find ways to make the world as good a place as it can be. It tries to view all people – wherever they are in the world, even those not yet born – as being equally deserving of living happy, healthy, dignified, flourishing lives. Its proponents try to focus on the best ways of doing good. It’s just like regular altruism in that it seeks to do good for others. However, by focusing on effectiveness, it seeks to do the most good possible.

This manifests in different ways. Some people try to find the most effective charities to donate to, others try to work out which career you should choose if you want to have the biggest impact. Others think about the long-run future of humanity, reasoning that if there’s even a small chance that humans could wipe ourselves out (say, in a nuclear winter, or a deadly engineered disease escaping a laboratory), avoiding such an outcome would be a huge benefit.

It’s just like regular altruism in that it seeks to do good for others. However, by focusing on effectiveness, it seeks to do the most good possible.

Many also take a pledge to give a fixed portion of their income to effective charities – often 10 percent – because it increases the chance that they’ll actually donate, rather than putting it off for another day. In all these cases people are motivated by their sense of empathy but guided by scientific evidence and reason.

It may seem strange to think we might have an obligation to donate to one set of charities rather than others. After all, surely if someone wants to donate their money to a charity that focuses on people in their local community or on a cause that’s particularly important to them, they have that right. Of course, donation – unlike taxes – is an individual choice, not a legal obligation. But when faced with a choice of whether to help 100 people or just one, is it really a difficult decision?


Is your workplace turning into a cult?

If every culture has a little bit of cult in it, how do we know when there is risk of the line being crossed? There are a few signals worth keeping an eye on.

Good news cultures

Does everything seem a little bit too wonderful? Do you feel as though people are insisting that you accept how wonderful the organisation is? Good news culture can sometimes hide behind the guise of good PR – a glossy front, shiny happy people adorned in corporately branded t-shirts and caps.

If you sense that questioning, doubt, or dissent is discouraged or even punished for fear of undermining the morale or image of the organisation, a good news culture could be at play.

Dominant logic

Ever heard of groupthink? Cults and organisations alike can generate a uniform way of thinking and communicating featuring jargon and particular decision-making processes. If your organisation’s meetings and strategic documents are full of jargon, or alternative approaches from employees are rejected with statements like, “it’s not the way we do things here”, you might be crossing the line into cultish culture.

Elitism 

Organisations that claim special, exalted status can generate polarising us-versus-them thinking. This in turn can pit the organisation against the wider community and divorce organisational values from those of the broader community. Many organisations claim to “only recruit the best”, but when “the best” happen to emulate and follow the rules or standards of the group it should be considered a warning sign.

‘Dear Leader’ syndrome 

‘Dear Leaders’ can create elitism and intimacy among followers, allowing access only to those with unquestioning commitment to their belief system and ideology. Ask yourself who has access to the leader – are dissenting voices allowed, or only ‘yes’ men and women?

They often hold conflicting standards – the rules for followers do not apply to the leader.

When the polished charismatic face of an organisation has an internal following full of devotion to their ideas or ideology, it may be time to be concerned.

These leaders may claim new methods of wealth creation, life success or social influence. Their new solutions or ideology may appear able to solve serious and previously insurmountable problems.

They direct attention towards themselves while feigning humility. In doing so, they create dependency and obedience within an organisation by ensuring the wellbeing of the members is tied to their own wellbeing.

When the polished charismatic face of an organisation has an internal following full of devotion to their ideas or ideology, it may be time to be concerned. They can make it impossible to build a consistent ethical culture within the organisation.

Devotional blindness

Do your colleagues seem unusually committed to their ‘Dear Leader’, their ideology, role, status or wealth? Is worship or adoration being generated for the leader and close followers? Does the organisation seem to be venerated in an unusually fervent way? Devotion and adoration can override decisions people would otherwise make in their life. Blind subservience to the leader, group or ideology in cults can radically alter personal goals and commitments an individual had before joining.

Cults expect members to devote inordinate amounts of time to the group and group-related activities at the expense of self-identify or ties with family and friends. They forget their non-group identity and may fear reprisals if they consider leaving the group.

Ideology and exalted ends 

When zealous attainment of what seems like an extraordinary goal seems prevalent, be concerned. Zeal for greater profit margins and work success can lead leaders and employees alike to rationalise unethical or ill-considered methods.

Zeal for greater profit margins and work success can lead leaders and employees alike to rationalise unethical or ill-considered methods.

Be sceptical of work cultures that drive debilitating schedules or tolerate sleep deprivation and employee burnout. Exaggerated ambitions or an exclusively achievement-oriented culture should also be viewed carefully. Do not tolerate leaders who justify the means only by whether they achieve stipulated goals.

Scapegoating and marginalisation

Most cults rely on intimidation to maintain their organisational identity. They use humiliation and blame to control their members, often through peer pressure and subtle forms of persuasion. When dissent or criticism is not permitted and individuals are marginalised or excluded from decision-making, you have problems.

Fortressing

Be concerned when transparency is admonished or there is widespread fear that rival people or groups are aiming to undermine the organisation. A simple measure of this is the overuse or abuse of confidentiality agreements. The ability for individuals to discuss their business should only be restricted with good reason. Paranoia and secrecy should not undermine professional transparency.

Does any of this sound familiar? You can find examples of any of these situations in organisations at any time. The real danger is when you find recurring clusters of the signals. If you do spot clusters, don’t despair – many organisational cultures have been redeemed by taking a few simple steps.

Click here to learn about the steps you can take to improve your business culture.

Are you currently dealing with an ethical dilemma? A conversation with an objective, independent person can really help. Call Ethi-call, our confidential ethics helpline, on 1800 672 303 for free anywhere in Australia.


David Pocock’s rugby prowess and social activism is born of virtue

In the Wallabies’ semi-final match against Argentina, David Pocock played over 70 minutes with a broken nose. Although Adam Ashley-Cooper would walk away as man-of-the-match thanks to a hat-trick of tries, most commentators agree Pocock’s heroics had as much impact on the result as anything else.

Pocock played all 80 minutes, made 13 tackles, ran the ball eight times, broke two tackles and made four turnovers. Despite only playing four games in the World Cup, he leads the tournament for turnovers with 14.

Fox Sports News described him as “the world’s best player” whilst the Sydney Morning Herald labelled him “The single most important player to take the field come Sunday morning”.

None of this should come as much surprise – as a back rower, Pocock’s success is derived as much by will power, courage, and perseverance as it is by skill. And Pocock has it in spades. He explains:

“My parents were always clear with my brothers and I when we were growing up that you have to have the courage of your convictions and that when you commit to something you must fully commit.”

That quote didn’t come from a post-match interview but from one of Pocock’s blog posts following his arrest in December 2014. Unlike some other footballers, Pocock’s arrest wasn’t a boozy 3am affair. A spokesperson for the environment and public supporter of Julia Gillard’s Carbon Tax, he was arrested for a nonviolent protest against Whitehaven’s coal mine at Maules Creek.

Pocock spent around 10 hours chained to a farmer who was, in turn, chained to one of Whitehaven’s superdiggers.

This wasn’t much of a surprise to those following Pocock’s career. He has been outspoken on a range of issues for several years. He and his partner, Emma Palandri, refuse to marry until LGBTQIA+ couples in Australia can do the same. Although describing themselves as married, the pair have not signed the legal documents to verify it. “‘I don’t see the logic in excluding people from making loving commitments to each other,” Pocock explains.

It’s not the only time Pocock has stood up for LGBTQIA+ rights. In a match against the NSW Waratahs earlier this year he reported NSW lock Jacques Potgieter for repeatedly using a homophobic slur. Amidst some criticism (and praise) Pocock refused to yield – even as some speculated it would cost him the Wallabies captaincy.

Pocock has repeatedly put his head on the block for the causes he believes in.

Pocock’s on-field success cannot be readily distinguished from his off-field activism. In a sentiment widely attributed to Aristotle (but actually a summary of his views), “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”

Courage – or fortitude as Thomas Aquinas called it – is the virtue that enables you to do what you believe to be right despite the difficulties involved. No matter the cost. Not a surprising trait in a man who fellow Wallaby Michael Hooper says “puts his head in some places that are pretty dangerous and gets the ball out”.

After Maules Creek the Australian Rugby Union issued Pocock with a formal warning. They wrote, “While we appreciate David has personal views on a range of matters, we’ve made it clear that we expect his priority to be ensuring he can fulfil his role as a high-performance athlete”.

It’s a tough ask for someone like Pocock to separate his politics from his rugby. Pocock’s on-field success cannot be readily distinguished from his off-field activism.  In a sentiment widely attributed to Aristotle (but actually a summary of his views), “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit”.

Pocock’s courage under fire, his perseverance and his commitment are habits. What makes him a high-performance athlete isn’t just his physical frame but his mental discipline and personal virtue.

We can’t switch virtues on and off when they suit us – we either have them or we don’t. When Pocock gets up to make a crucial tackle or to reach the breakdown a fraction earlier than his rivals to steal the ball he demonstrates the same commitment that saw him support LGBTQIA+ rights, defend the environment, speak about his eating disorder or discuss his faith publicly.

Pocock could no more remain silent off the field than he could hold back on it. His character disposes him to holding fast to what he believes is good. Doing otherwise would dull both his crucial sporting instincts and what makes him an upstanding human being.

You can’t praise Pocock’s on-field achievements whilst also condemning his off-field activism. They’re children of the same beast – his unwavering commitment.

Though there are no doubt those who disagree with Pocock’s views, you can’t praise his on-field achievements whilst also condemning his off-field activism. They’re children of the same beast – his unwavering commitment.

There is ongoing debate regarding whether or not professional athletes should serve as role models. The ability to play sport well doesn’t translate into the moral virtues required in a role model. As Charles Barkley famously remarked, “Just because I dunk a basketball doesn’t mean I should raise your kids.” If Pocock’s prominence both on and off the field are born of the same character traits, then his example allows us to see the role model debate in a new light.

Legendary NFL coach Vince Lombardi once remarked, “The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather, a lack of will”. Had he not died 18 years before David Pocock was born, you’d swear Lombardi was talking about him.


A woman in a U.S. Army uniform sits, advocating for women on the front lines. Her uniform displays U.S. ARMY and her name, CHHUM.

There’s no good reason to keep women off the front lines

Woman soldier in uniform. There's no good reason to keep women off the front lines. Female U.S. Army soldier in camouflage uniform and cap.

The US. military may finally be coming around on the question of women on the front lines.

In a confidential briefing on September 30, military leaders presented their recommendations on having women on the front lines to the House Armed Services Subcommittee on Military Personnel, and Defense Secretary Ashton Carter.

In the 1940s, the US military faced similar debates regarding black service personnel. Arguments regarding unit cohesion and operational capability were the most prominent against integration of white and black personnel. With the power of hindsight, we can see those arguments for what they were – scare tactics intended to keep the military segregated.

The same arguments have returned today. At the command of Secretary Panetta, the US Army underwent a two-year study to develop gender-neutral standards for specialist roles currently closed to women. The success of this standardised approach was demonstrated recently when two women graduated from the Army Ranger School.

There have been vocal critics of allowing women to attempt the Army Ranger School course. Some claim the standards were lowered for these women. This was denied by the Army at the Ranger School graduation ceremony. It was rebuked again by the Chief of Army Public Affairs who described the allegations as “pure fiction”.

These allegations are unlikely to settle down any time soon. A Congressman has requested service records of the women who graduated to investigate “serious allegations” of bias and the lowering of standards by Ranger School instructors.

This incident reveals the depth of scepticism regarding women’s ability to serve alongside men within some quarters. The standardised approach has dismissed the issue of operational capacity – the other arguments against female service are equally weak.

The potential for women to be captured and raped has been raised by opponents of women serving in combat units. This discussion ignores the sad reality – women in defence are much more likely to be sexually assaulted by their own troops than by the enemy. The 2013 Department of Defense report into sexual assault found that while women make up 14.5% of the US military, they make up 86% of sexual assault victims.

Women in defence are much more likely to be sexually assaulted by their own troops than by the enemy.

Of the 301 reports of sexual assault in combat zones in 2013 to the Department of Defence, only 12 were by foreign military personnel. The vast majority of sexual abuse victims in combat areas were abused by their own comrades, not the enemy.

Sexual abuse in the military has been a problem for decades. Why would it increase if we allowed women in combat? Rape of captured soldiers has also not been limited to women. Many men have also been sexually assaulted on capture. Sexual assault in this sphere is not about sexual desire or gratification – it’s about power and denigration of your enemy.

The second argument suggests women in combat units will affect unit cohesion. First, “the boys” won’t be able to be themselves. And second, if a woman is injured in battle men will be unable to focus on the mission and instead will be driven to protect their female colleagues.

The first argument raises a question about military culture. Why is behaviour considered inappropriate around women tolerated at all? The second argument is insulting to currently serving soldiers, whose professionalism and commitment to the mission is questioned.

To suggest soldiers would ignore the mission in favour of some other goal undervalues the extent of their military professionalism.

Soldiers overcome a range of powerful instincts in a firefight – including protecting their own lives. To suggest soldiers would ignore the mission in favour of some other goal undervalues the extent of their military professionalism.

There is also an elephant in the room. Women have been serving in combat roles for years – as pilots, on ships, as interpreters and in female engagement teams. For these women a decision regarding the position of women in combat is irrelevant – they are already on the front lines.

The Australian situation sits in stark contrast to that of the US. Gay and lesbian members have served openly for a decade, women have been fully integrated into combat units since 2013, and the Australian Defence Force now actively recruits transgender personnel.

Australia has been able to integrate women, gay, lesbian and transgender soldiers into combat units without affecting operational capability.

Hopefully the US Defense Secretary will follow the advice of his Chiefs of Staff and the leadership of the ADF. He should allow military personnel to serve in all roles in the military according to universal standards rather than chromosomes or genitalia.


Hunger won’t end by donating food waste to charity

There are 795 million hungry people on Earth. The world produces more food than its human population needs. Between the farm, the processing plant, the retailer and the home, the world discards one-third of all food intended for human consumption.

In Australia, we throw out the equivalent of one in every five bags of groceries we take home. Tens of thousands of us rely on charitable food relief.

Apart from consumers wasting money, producing food that goes to waste accounts for a massive loss of resources, such as energy, water and human labour. After disposal, food rotting in landfill releases potent greenhouse gases.

What did the French do?

At the end of the day, ‘dumpster divers’ scavenge food from supermarket bins. It happens all over the world. In France, supermarket owners were concerned dumpster divers might get sick from eating contaminated food and sue. So supermarkets started pouring bleach in their dumpsters to ward off the divers.

Parisian councillor Arash Derambarsh thought this was “scandalous and absurd”. He proposed large supermarkets donate all their excess stock to food rescue agencies.

Why won’t the French system work in Australia?

France’s law sounds great but there are some translation problems when applying it to the Australian context. France is rushing to regulate because they are several steps behind Australia when it comes to dealing with food waste.

All the major supermarkets in Australia have partnerships with food rescue agencies like OzharvestSecondbiteFareshare and Foodbank as part of their corporate social responsibility strategies. These organisations redistribute surplus supermarket food to charities that feed those in need. Unlike their French counterparts and French supermarkets, Australian food rescue agencies are protected by Good Samaritan Laws, which afford them certain safeguards against litigation.

A spokesperson for the Australian Food and Grocery Council (AFGC) said, “There is enormous goodwill and partnership between industry and agencies to ensure that charities receive food products that are needed – not just what is left over.

“Any proposed legislative intervention will need to guard against any unintended outcome where food companies may be forced to send charities excess stock that is not required. This could place greater burden on charities which are currently subject to dumping charges.”

Elaine Montegriffo, CEO of food rescue agency Secondbite said, “If supermarkets are doing it of their own free will, rather than as a matter of compliance, it is far more likely to work out for the charity”.

Imagine a large shipment of mislabelled muesli bars arrives at a supermarket and can’t be sold. If Australia were to implement a similar law to France, the supermarket can choose to pass on the bars for animal feed or compost, or give them to a food rescue agency. But if the agency has already reached its logistical limit for transport and storage and can’t find a charity to take the bars, it still has to pay for that transport, storage and most likely the disposal of the bars.

Montegriffo would rather serious policy than a mandate on supermarkets. “I would like food waste and food security to sit in somebody’s portfolio,” she said.

The Australian way isn’t perfect

The Australian system might be ahead of France’s but it still has a long way to go. To see the full picture of food waste in the Australian supply chain we need to pull our head out of the back-of-store dumpsters. We need to encourage suppliers, processors and retailers to increase supply chain efficiencies.

Supermarkets often use the visual merchandising tactic of purposefully over-ordering to maintain an aesthetic of abundance. Shelves that look full are more appealing to shoppers, even though supermarkets can dump contracts with farmers on a whim.

With Coles and Woolworths accounting for a 70% share of the market, Australia has one of the most highly concentrated retail grocery sectors in the world. This is problematic for a number of reasons. These practices can lead to massive and unnecessary waste. The emotional, economic and environmental costs of binning the excess produce lies with farmers, not supermarkets.

Where to from here?

While 90 percent of Australia’s food charities report that they do not have enough food to meet the demand for their services, relying on waste to feed the hungry is not a sustainable solution. Our ultimate goal should be to eliminate food waste and food want.

We don’t need to follow France’s new regulatory measures, but we can learn a few things from their consumer education. In addition to its new laws for big supermarkets, France will soon roll out education programs on food waste for schools and businesses. Australia should take note. We can learn to eat in-season produce, no matter how it looks when it grows. Those wonky cucumbers and two legged carrots are just fine. We can shop smarter and buy the right amount of food, and we can re-learn kitchen skills so food and leftovers are used rather than thrown away.

Last week, Environment Minister Greg Hunt announced a multi-partisan dialogue to develop a National Food Waste 2025 Strategy. France’s consumer education is a good start, but let’s hope Hunt’s strategy addresses the full complexity of the problem. This includes improved monitoring of food waste, investment in infrastructure to process it outside landfill, competition laws to help diversify the grocery sector, support of alternative food distribution networks, and fairer relationships between farmers and supermarkets.


The twin foundations of leadership

For all of the talk about the importance of leadership, relatively few resources are applied to its support and development. Rather, the bulk of investment flows into building and maintaining the infrastructure of management and control.

The scale of this investment in regulation and surveillance is easy to underestimate. For example, government regulation is just the tip of an iceberg of which private sector compliance programs make up the larger part. As such, some of the most prolific rule-makers in the land sit at the nation’s board tables.  Fearful of their own liability and hungry for certainty, company directors feed (and are fed on by) a narrowly conceived culture of compliance.

Of equal concern is the way in which organisations are led to disguise their real preferences by applying comforting (but misleading) labels to their programs. The fact that a management program has the word ‘leadership’ in its title does not make it a leadership program. Yet programs of this kind abound. This observation is not meant to suggest that there is no longer a need for strong management programs. In fact, the opposite is true. However, if organisations are ever to realise their full potential, the technical competence of managers needs to be reinforced by the art of leadership.

That we do not do so, in any extensive or meaningful way, is due to a number of factors not least of which is, as noted above, the fear of personal liability amongst people in positions of power and authority.  In some respects, their fear is well-founded. Society has recoiled against an earlier period in history when people running public and private sector organisations seemed to be beyond the reach of accountability, no matter how terrible the consequences of failures in governance. Unfortunately, society’s response has been largely uni-directional; placing the majority of its eggs in the ‘regulation and surveillance’ basket. This has stimulated a vicious cycle in which those subject to these controls have replicated the approach, across the system as a whole.

However, there are two deeper issues to consider. First, it may be that society has lost faith in the power of good leadership to shape events for the better. That is, rather than rely on the qualities of people, society has thought to ‘engineer out’ their frailties by creating a system that is finely regulated so as to prevent any person from choosing to do what is wrong. Rather, if all comply with the technical demands of the system, it is assumed, ‘bad things’ will not happen.

While this kind of thinking is understandable, borrowing as it does from utopian/dystopian fantasies (depending on your world view) of risk-free and perfect certainty, it stands in contrast to what we know of reality. Furthermore, the model of the ‘finely regulated system’ contains within it the seeds of its own failure.  Rather than eliminating risk, such a system increases systemic risk (risk to the system as a whole) by reducing the capacity of any single actor to make good decisions when the system is sub-optimal in its performance.

The best analogy that I can think of for this risk is that of putting a person into a full-body plaster cast as a way of ensuring that they maintain a straight and steady posture. To the casual observer, this will seem to be a model of stability. However, unseen within the bounds of the cast, the person’s body will be changing; muscles wasting away to nothing for want of use and bones losing their load-bearing capacity. The more perfect the performance of the plaster cast, the more the degradation within. Should the plaster cast fail, the body within will be doomed to collapse. Of course, everyone knows that this true, even those who design, build and maintain the plaster cast. Their response is to patch, reinforce and refine the plaster cast.

However, there may be a second factor that limits our investment in leadership. Apart from not trusting the variable human dimension to leadership, it may also be that we no longer really understand what leadership involves and requires. It is this issue that will be addressed in the remainder of this article.

The most potent enemy of ethical leadership is unthinking custom and practice.

Defining leadership

There are many definitions of leadership from which to choose. The one that I find most compelling forms part of the doctrine of the Australian Defence Force. The ADF defines leadership as, “The exercise of influence in order to bring about the willing consent of others in the ethical pursuit of missions”.

I like this definition for a couple of reasons. First, there is an emphasis on influence and consent. There is nothing here about the exercise of power or insistence upon compliance. Second, it is striking that the military conceive of leadership as an ethical practice. That is, they do not aim to treat the ethical dimension as something that is to be ‘bolted on’ to leadership, as an ‘extra’ (optional or otherwise). Rather, ethics is an integral (and integrated) part of leadership. The reason for this is not hard to discern.

There is a telling maxim in military affairs, “no plan survives first contact with the enemy.” The profession of arms intersects with a world of rapid change, unpredictability, and lethal consequences. If you do not manage risk, then the consequences are not merely some dent to the ‘bottom line’ but quite possibly death or injury. Such hard facts concentrate the mind. The military have learned that this is why leadership, as defined above, really matters. When all of the carefully constructed systems and structures have broken down, the only thing that may stand between success and failure will be those human factors embedded in the quality of leadership.

Of course, it must be noted that the world of the military is one of extraordinary contexts and demands, in many a world apart from ordinary world of civilian life. Yet, for all of the very real differences, we should not ignore a core lesson. Investing in ethical leadership is the most effective way to manage risk.

But what does such leadership involve? What does it require of those who would lead? And are there any core lessons for leaders? In my opinion, good leadership is built on twin foundations: strategic vision and moral courage.

Strategic vision

There are three elements to strategic vision:

  1. The ability simultaneously to ‘see’ a situation at multiple levels. There is the ‘satellite’ level that reveals the larger picture within which specific issues are located. There is the ‘submarine’ level that reveals how specific issues are affected by ‘undercurrents’ that shape the operating environment. Finally, a leader with strategic vision sees things in the moment, being entirely ‘present’ to those dealing with specific issues or an evolving situation. As one might recognise, it takes a particular ‘presence of mind’ to operate simultaneously at all three levels. Yet this is something that good leaders can be trained to do.
  2. The ability to employ a kind of empathetic ‘moral imagination’ that places a leader in the shoes of key participants including, supporters, allies and foes. The capacity to ‘read oneself’ into a situation, to see events as others might see them and to understand the implications of these perspectives, is of considerable advantage to leaders. An important function of a leader is to bring such insight to bear on a situation as to enable and encourage others to proceed down paths that would otherwise remain obscured or closed to them.
  3. Being able to simultaneously ‘see’ a situation at multiple levels and employ ‘moral imagination’ gives rise to a third ability: the ability to perceive (or sometimes to create) ‘inflection points’. Inflection points are best understood as presenting opportunities to redefine the conditions under which success might be achieved. Those who perceive or create inflection points are not bound by a fixed description of a particular situation. Instead, they are more likely to see apparently fixed points as variables that can be reconfigured to provide new opportunities. Put simply, strategic vision allows leaders to see new possibilities not apparent to others.

Moral courage

The other foundation for leadership, moral courage, is made necessary by the fact that many individuals and organisations prefer the comfort of the familiar, even if ‘the familiar’ is outmoded and dangerous. Those who would lead must be prepared to challenge patterns of unthinking custom and practice that typically define the environment in which they work.

In most cases, if you ask people to explain their conduct, the typical response will be that “everybody does it this way” or that it is “just the way we do things around here”. That is, people will be either unwilling or unable to link what they do to a clearly articulated and understood framework of purpose, values and principles. Usually this tendency will be relatively harmless in its effects. However, in some cases, unthinking custom and practice will expose an organisation to risk if not ruin. And when all of the damage is done and people are asked to explain why they engaged in such ruinous conduct they will say, truthfully, that they did not see the risk at the time.  Instead, what they saw will have been a world viewed through a limited lens, the lens of ‘the familiar’.

It is against this background that one of the defining roles of a leader is to engage in and foster acts of ‘constructive subversion’.

Constructive subversion undermines unthinking custom and practice by questioning the basis for perceiving the world through the eyes of ‘the familiar’. Such acts of subversion are not destructive because the task of a good leader is to help each organisation to become more like the thing it says that it wants to be. That is, leaders are not supposed to impose upon an organisation a personal or idiosyncratic view of what it should be. Instead, their task is to serve a defining purpose within a governance framework with core values and principles at its heart.

To do any of this, not least to question the often long-established precedents of unthinking custom and practice is to invite the disapproval of those with an investment in the status quo. Whatever the organisational structure, there is likely to be a majority who protect ‘the familiar’ and who will resist those who seek to probe and expose its limitations. That is why leaders need to draw so heavily on a reserve of moral courage.

This is not to suggest that people should be reckless in their style of leadership. Good leaders are not required to throw themselves onto the ‘funeral pyre of integrity’ whenever the opportunity arises.  Effective leaders understand that there is more to be achieved than a few beautiful sparks arising from the embers of their career. While there will be times when a stand must be made as a matter of principle, leaders will draw on their capacity for strategic vision by sensing, by seeing how and when to prosecute a particular course of action. Thus moral courage, like all virtues, requires a leader to discern the ‘golden mean’ that exists between the twin poles of rash and foolhardy action and the procrastination of the coward.

Becoming a leader

Earlier, I proposed a distinction between the techniques of management and the art of leadership. I noted that both capacities are valuable–even essential–arenas for human development, but suggested that our society does a poor job of investing in leadership.  Instead, we seem to be inclined to ‘re-label’ management programs with the word ‘leadership,’ and pretend that the issue is being addressed.

A sure sign of a mislabeled program will be that it is structured around exercises that take place within a formal learning environment. Having spent over two decades working with and developing leaders, I am convinced that the art of leadership only emerges as a result of experiential learning. Learning of this kind tests and refines a person’s leadership capacity within a crucible of ‘embodied experience.’ Understood in these terms, authentic leadership programs work over an extended period of time, exposing their participants to a range of experiences that challenge them physically, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. Ideally, participants meet each challenge and, in doing so, come to recognise their own latent capacity to lead when called upon to do so. The process of self-validation that comes about within a well-structured program is essential. A notional leader can have all of the technical skills in the world yet lack the self-belief necessary to risk taking up a leadership challenge.

This article is not the place to outline the kind of ‘curriculum’ that is better suited to the task of developing effective leaders. However there is nothing especially mysterious about the process. Indeed, the only real mystery in developing and implementing programs that build effective leaders is that so few organisations invest adequately in the task. Instead, most organisations adopt the comforting myth that leaders can be made ‘on the cheap’ and in a matter of weeks, largely spent within a training room.

Becoming a leader, regardless of one’s formal role in an organisation, requires time and practice, ideally accompanied by a small, supportive group of others making the same journey. Along the way, good leaders pick up some essential skills, including an ethical literacy that can be used to explain and inspire across varied audiences.

To conclude

The most potent enemy of ethical leadership is unthinking custom and practice. It is this that leads otherwise good persons to participate in or to tolerate evil deeds. Thus, an ethical leader will always seek to look beyond conventional morality in favour of the application of an ethical framework that is based on personal reflection and is authentically held as the basis for living a responsible life.

Ethical leaders are actively engaged in acts of ‘constructive subversion,’ subverting unthinking custom and practice in order to build organisations and communities that increasingly become more like the thing that they say they ought to be as flourishing human communities.

To lead in these terms is to court unpopularity, often from all quarters where the majority will prefer simple certainties and a quiet life based around comfortable habits. Thus the need for leaders to possess an unusually high degree of moral courage, as must be drawn on when even the leader may be plagued by genuine doubt about how best to proceed.

Under this model, the requirement for leaders is essentially personal in character:

  • a well-formed (and informed) conscience
  • a well-formed (and informed) intuition (there should be no tolerance of those who are too lazy or complacent to work towards the refinement of their intuition)
  • the virtues of moral courage and humility
  • respect for the intrinsic dignity of others
  • a capacity for discernment (including strategic vision and empathy)

These are the attributes that inspire others to follow, willingly–even to a point of personal sacrifice. This is what lies at the heart of ethical leadership: the art of doing..


Ethics in engineering makes good foundations

As an engineer, I work in a profession that generally maintains high ethical standards. Our peak representative body, Engineers Australia, has a strong code of ethics.

As the leader of that review team, I spoke with many of our members and was impressed with the importance they placed on ethical behaviour.

Yet in spite of this, I sometimes see things that disappoint me. Take for, example, a World Bank decision in June 2013 to add a major Australian engineering consultancy firm to the World Bank’s list of debarred and cross-debarred firms for a year. This meant that for a 12-month period, that firm could not win any World Bank projects, could not work for a firm awarded World Bank contracts, and could not receive any proceeds from the bank.

The World Bank Sanctions Board found that the firm fraudulently failed to disclose its agreement to pay a $US34,000 ”marketing fee” to a sub-consultant, submitted invoices for reimbursement of $US210,000 in housing costs not actually incurred, and used false supporting documentation to request reimbursement of $US150,000 in vehicle and transport expenses.

Because of this, the firm was cut off from a significant area of business. While technically this bar lasted only 12 months, the actual impact was likely much greater. The reputational damage would certainly result in a much higher level of scrutiny of the company’s tenders in this and other areas of business. By their own actions, they had taken a level playing field and made it an uphill climb. The impact on company morale must have been severe.

This shows why maintaining high standards of ethical behaviour is not simply the right thing to do. It is a business essential if firms are to maximise their opportunities and their return on investment in staff, technology and skills.

Cutting ethical corners may seem attractive to a manager focused only on winning the next job, but such attitudes have no place in an organisation wanting to build a healthy, long-term business.

Engineering is a tough market. There are many firms that can provide clients with high levels of technical advice, so the pressure is on to find that ‘differentiator’ which gives you the edge. Unfortunately, there are times when those competitive pressures see firms taking the sorts of actions I discussed in the example above.

Cutting ethical corners may seem attractive to a manager focused only on winning the next job, but such attitudes have no place in an organisation wanting to build a healthy, long-term business. You might do it once or twice, but this approach will eventually catch up with you, just as it did the firm in the World Bank example.

To my mind, the best business differentiator is to combine technical excellence with a willingness to build long-term relationships with clients. You should forge partnerships that focus on the client’s needs so you become sought after as a trusted provider of services.

Ethical behaviour is at the heart of this. As a colleague of mine with a major engineering firm says, “High ethical standards and conduct are regarded as a survival imperative in our company. Our attitude is that the first time you give advice that is not professionally and intellectually independent is the last time you will have the opportunity.”

Apart from the immediate loss of business that results from unethical behaviour (real or perceived), there are other longer-term impacts. I once worked for an American multinational that was frequently accused of unethical behaviour. That was all a long way from the Australian arm of the business, yet the mud stuck.

We once had a booth at a graduate recruitment fair and got positive responses from quite a few final-year university students. We invited them to a meeting to discuss opportunities and introduce our graduate program. But a number said, “I’m sorry but I have done some research on Google and I don’t like the things I found there. I don’t think I could work for a company like that.” So our opportunity to recruit some of the brightest young graduates available was lost.

There are a number of strategies that engineering firms with high ethical standards follow. These strategies make good business sense by better managing risk – reputational and financial – along with enhancing the decision-making capacities of staff. But importantly for the industry and the professionals themselves, these strategies reverse the race to the bottom driven by short-term thinking.

  • See the big picture. A successful business is not simply a collection of jobs, one after the other. Growing your business requires a strategic understanding of how individual projects and assignments can take the company to where you want it to be.
  • Lead from the front. Ensure that all levels of management take their ethical responsibilities seriously and display zero tolerance to unethical behaviour. Act as role models for staff at all levels.
  • Have a code of conduct and enforce it. Here I must emphasise that a code of conduct is not simply a list of rules. Ethical problems are often complex and do not lend themselves to simple ‘let’s look up the book’ solutions. Often, the process of ethical analysis and reflection is as important as the final decision. The following quote from the Engineers Australia Code of Ethics summarises the characteristics of the best codes:

“Our Code of Ethics defines the values and principles that shape the decisions we make in engineering practice. The related Guidelines on Professional Conduct provide a framework for members of Engineers Australia to use when exercising their judgement in the practice of engineering. Ethical engineering practice requires judgement, interpretation and balanced decision-making in context.”

  • Embed your code of conduct in sound induction and staff development programs. New staff should have no doubt as to what is expected of them. But don’t simply read them the riot act – ensure your development programs provide an opportunity for staff to learn about ethical behaviour and understand the importance (and difficulties) of ethical analysis.
  • Provide staff with opportunities for ethical learning and reflection. Ethical decision-making is often complex. You can help staff develop their ethical understanding and skills by reflecting on the ethical aspects of past or recent case studies.
  • Support your staff. Ethical behaviour involves two-way conversations, so provide a mechanism where staff can discuss and seek advice on ethical issues. As my colleague from earlier says, “There is hardly a day goes by when I am not asked to assist people to think through what is the ‘right thing to do’ in various circumstances”. Another major company I know has a procedure where staff can inject ethical concerns into decisions about pursuing new jobs. In some instances, this has led to the company not chasing significant projects.
  • Build open and honest relationships with clients. Help clients understand and deal with ethical issues when they arise.
  • Consider the ethical aspects of everything you do. Remember that because something is legal, that does not automatically make it ethical.
  • Don’t be afraid to say no. If a potential client is asking you to cut corners or act unethically, then they are not the sort of client you want to work with.

Unethical behaviour is not confined to the commercial sector. It also exists in the public sector. This is not to accuse individuals working in government as deliberately acting unethically. Rather, it’s to point out how standardised policies and procedures serve to systemically support unethical behaviour.

The area that I am most familiar with is government procurement policies for infrastructure projects. There is a golden rule in engineering procurement that good contracts allocate risk to the parties best able to manage that risk. Many standard government contracts do not – they endeavour to allocate almost all risk to the contractor (whether the contractor can manage that risk or not) while absolving the government from risks that they are best able to manage. Contractors are then expected to accept unlimited liability for their actions. In addition, many government procurement procedures still focus primarily on lowest price, even though their stated policy may be to seek the best available value for money.

No doubt these practices are motivated by well-intentioned attempts to get the best value for public expenditure and to protect procurement authorities (and their political masters) from exposure to unnecessary risk.

However, the unthinking application of these policies has driven engineering consultants and contractors to operate in an environment of unrealistically low margins and unreasonably high risk. This environment is conducive to unethical behaviour, with companies cutting corners and acting inappropriately in order to win work and stay profitable.

What’s unfortunate about this is that at the heart of an act of unethical behaviour, there is often someone who thinks they are doing the right thing for the company. When these things occur, you often hear justifications like “it’s a tough market and we have to do this to survive”, “if we don’t do it someone else will”, or “we haven’t done anything illegal”.

In my experience, unethical behaviour by engineering companies is not common. But if we are to see a business environment where corner cutting is eliminated, governments need to lift their game too.

Let me conclude with a quote from Shakespeare because, when all is said and done, ethical behaviour relies on the ethical understanding of individuals. As Polonius states in Hamlet,

“This above all: To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.”


The value of principle over prescription

As a child, I visited the ski fields of New South Wales but once. So, you would think that my most enduring memory of that vacation would be of snow. But it is not. Rather, I remember a lamb chop—or, more particularly, the circumstances giving rise to a BBQ in a bushland clearing somewhere out of Cooma.

The chop had been purchased from a local butcher who sold his fare from an old-fashioned shop. The butcher operated from within an area enclosed by fly screen and served his customers through a sliding hatch. Inside, activity centred on a large wooden block set on a floor strewn with sawdust producing the earthy scent of freshly sawn timber. Having purchased our chops, we drove on into the country where we found a picnic spot somewhere off the road. In a family ritual, we older children were sent off to gather twigs for kindling and sticks for a fire used to cook our chops on a grill set on rocks surrounding the small fire. Having eaten, we made safe the fire and returned the area to how we had found it before ascending to the snow line.

Sadly, the experiences I describe have been almost regulated out of existence. Butchers can no longer dress their floors with sawdust. Travellers may no longer set small fires to cook their lunch in bushland settings but must find a ‘permanently constructed fireplace at a site surrounded by ground that is cleared of all combustible materials for a distance of at least two metres all around’. The rules preventing such things have been introduced for perfectly good reasons: to promote safe eating and to prevent bushfires. But was it really necessary to impose such uniform rules (e.g. hard surfaces for all butchers)? Or might we have done better to specify some general principles (e.g. around health and safety) and leave butchers and travellers to make responsible decisions about how best to meet their obligations?

There was a time when Australians were more willing to accept risk in return for a larger measure of freedom.

I should clarify two likely points of contention. First, I am not opposed to rules and regulations per se. Comprehensive and consistent regulation makes good sense in some areas of life (aviation standards come to mind). Second, I am not merely pining for a lost golden age of my youth. Life (and society) moves on. Rather, my concern is a deeper one—that Australia and Australians are becoming an overly compliant people and that our archetypal self (the knockabout and resourceful larrikin questioning of authority) now exists only in our rhetoric.

I recently discussed this issue with former Liberal minister, Amanda Vanstone. For the sake of lively conversation, she proposed a radical pruning of the regulatory thicket with all regulation being suspended unless proven to be both necessary and effective. Most proposals for reform are cautious and incremental, aiming only to remove the dead wood. The Vanstone proposal was to replace the whole tree. But what might be planted in its place?

I proposed three general principles that, in my opinion, do the work of most regulations:

  1. That no person may intentionally or recklessly cause harm to another
  2. That no person may expose another to harm without their free, prior, and informed consent
  3. That no person may engage in unconscionable conduct to the detriment of another.

Although Ms Vanstone inclines towards the lawyer’s typical suspicion of broad principle (perhaps concerned about the relative lack of certainty and the attendant scope for judicial activism), she agrees that principles like these would fill the vacuum caused by a serious reduction in regulatory burden.

But then it occurred to us that our entire conversation might have been based on a false assumption: that Australians actually want less regulation. But what if they don’t?

I still recall Peter Costello’s comment, when Federal Treasurer, that business leaders would often demand of him—in one breath—less regulation and more certainty about where ‘the line is drawn’. He could meet one of their demands, but not both. So, what did these leaders really want? They wanted certainty, which led them to prefer regulation. And the wider community? Would it have a greater appetite for the exercise of personal judgement and responsibility? Would it opt for principle over prescription? These are the central questions.

There was a time when Australians were more willing to accept risk in return for a larger measure of freedom. No doubt there were mishaps, but perhaps not as many as some would fear. For the most part, the sawdust on the floor of butchers’ shops was regularly replaced when soiled, and the diligent merchant produced an environment no less hygienic than found amongst the hard surfaces mandated by today’s regulators. Bush fires are a scourge but few are the product of camp fires left unattended or carelessly set. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, natural causes (such as lightning strikes) are the most prevalent. And to the extent that humans cause fires, the real menace lies in the acts of arsonists rather than the accidents of errant campers.

The proposal to do away with the majority of regulation may be unrealistic. However, the guiding sentiment is well-founded. Our world is largely populated by decent people. They are capable of developing a variety of innovative solutions to day-to-day challenges. Life loses some of its magic when creativity is constrained by a one-size-fits-all approach to managing risk.

Would it really be so bad if we were to trust ourselves and each other a little more?


Classical building with columns and statues, related to the Royal Commission and the question of what is business good for.

Has passivity contributed to the rise of corrupt lawyers?

Architectural facade with columns and statues. Exploring the question: what is business good for? Royal Commission relevance implied.

When China – one of the world’s biggest economic powers – applied to join the World Trade Organisation (WTO), it had to promise it would carry through root-and-branch reforms of its laws and legal systems before it was considered eligible to join.

Like it or not, the WTO coalesces national sovereign and private mercantile interests, and it has unparalleled influence. What the WTO’s members say really counts.

The demand, made and accepted in 2001, was that China apply and administer in a uniform, impartial, and reasonable manner all its relevant laws, regulations, and governmental measures. Its requisite tribunals must be impartial and independent of concerned agencies of the executive or other parties. China would commit to systemic reforms that would promote transparency, predictability and fairness in business dealings.

The US Senate Finance and House Ways and Means Committees asked the US General Accounting Office (GAO) to monitor China’s implementation of its WTO commitments. A preliminary report was given by the GAO to the Congressional Executive Commission on China in mid-2002. The rule of law, and the new WTO member’s aspirations with regard to it, were the focus. US businesses considered it very important – especially as the actual characteristics of the current Chinese legal system included subordination of law to Communist Party policy and a lack of independence of the courts.

Also reported were the “challenges” – a synonym for difficulties and obstacles – conceded by some Chinese officials consulted by the GAO. This was alongside the detected considerable progress, “on paper”, in China’s efforts to render its legal system WTO compatible. But the progress was not just on paper. As a climax of its testimony to Congress, the GAO concluded what really showed China’s substantial shift toward a rule-of-law oriented society was the recent proliferation of law schools and legal training. There would be more lawyers, in the service of business, through a sound system of justice. “Lawyers and money” is not only a chapter heading of the most cutting part of a New Yorker-style book of jokes and cartoons.

The next early 21st-century occasion for reflection on lawyers and money flows from domestic US financial scandals. The spectacular rort at Enron was merely the example of a “supposed mischief” best known to the general public. “A supposed mischief?” It wasn’t the spectacle of big business using clever accounting and innovative so-called financial products or structures that spurred the United States Congress to action. No, it was the perception of crimes and frauds – telling lies when asked to show someone the money.

And at the heart of the Congress response to the excesses of capitalist greed was a special whistleblower role for the lawyers of possibly delinquent business clients – that is, clients reasonably suspected by their own lawyers of breaking legal standards concerning corporate securities. This is not an exotic foreign frolic – it clearly has influenced the various legislative suggestions afoot now in this country.

Just as the WTO demands on China as a new member show the country’s burgeoning attachment to an internationalised concern, so too the US Sarbanes-Oxley Act of mid-2002. Governments friendly to business, at least that of their own nationals, and willing to trade reciprocal standards with other governments, are clearly persuaded of the crucial part for lawyers in the serious matter of money and moneyed exchanges.

Under section 307 of the Sarbanes-Oxley Act, the US Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) was required to issue rules for minimum standards of professional conduct for attorneys involved in matters of issued corporate securities, most obviously equity shares. Foreign lawyers were expressly in the frame. The only explicit requirement for these new rules was stipulated to be an obligation to report – “up the ladder” – dishonest corporate conduct.

The draft rules went on to permit reporting, or dobbing, externally, to the SEC, without lawyers breaching their duties of confidentiality. The touchstone is the involvement of the attorney in suspect behaviour, presumably unwittingly until he or she forms the reasonable suspicion in question. It can be seen how much further the Americans were prepared to consider going, compared with the current and understandable Australian professional worries about privilege and loyalty to clients.

By August 2003, consultations were over, and the final rule was promulgated. Commentators from the legal profession had uttered various dire warnings, some with much substance. The requisite record-keeping was viewed askance by some, as increasing a corporate client’s (or employer’s) vulnerability in litigation by forcing reports that would be a treasure trove of selectively damning evidence. A new and glittering prize for pre-trial discovery.

But the SEC pressed on, convinced that these new responsibilities for commercial lawyers would be an early remedy of illegal behaviour. This would, in turn, boost investor confidence – itself self-evidently good, however deluded some participants in irrationally exuberant booms have surely been.

How revealing that the most effective pressures for such radical change in professional obligations was the perceived need for honest capital raising. Congress’s charge to the SEC in section 307, after all, was put in the language of “the public interest and for the protection of investors”. If they know the business of America at all, it seems Congress members are – or at least a majority of them – persuaded of the critical, protective role of lawyers in the world of money.

Of course, it is not only big business, international trade, and the capital markets that display and need the good offices of decent lawyers. The myriad transactions and relationships of private and business dealings, large and small, have the same dependence.

Whatever else should be boasted or confessed about lawyers and money, it’s nonsense to suggest the legal profession is unproductive. Let wheat and beef growers, manufacturers of widgets and coal magnates, imagine the results of their efforts without laws of contract, punishment of theft, and enforcement of quarantine regulations. Then let them realise the essentials of government, and the integral component of government that is the part of lawyers. Even the most Luddite critic of the WTO, after all, shares its regard for the rule of law, differing only on the desirable extent of what may be called globalised jurisdiction.

The note of self-congratulation starts to falter at this point. The useful service of mercantile interests, in the public interest, poses conflicts and embarrassment for the legal profession. Traditional restraint and constraints are freshly needed, but may not be adequate in their existing forms. For example, while imitation of clients is universally rejected when lawyers represent criminals, it’s massively growing in the case of lawyers advising on and representing the interests of money.

Before elaborating on this, there is the perennial but less pressing matter of fees. Only about half of law-school graduates take up careers in private practice. The others practise law as government public servants, as corporate counsel, and in legal aid and other salaried non-profit sector positions. But public comment on lawyers and the money they get fairly focuses the emphasis on those lawyers who derive income from fees paid by clients.

Are those fees too high? Answers range from a hostile affirmative from those who regard lawyer jokes as sound sociological observations, to a righteous negative from the organised profession. Because the question is usually posed in a judgemental context, the wide range of answers can simply be noted, with a quiet rider that very similar questions could be asked about every other profession, trade and occupation – and often have been.

Regulators of the legal profession, it is interesting to learn, have not seen evidence of any major, let alone growing, incidence of genuine complaints about overcharging. Some reasons are, probably, that prior disclosure and agreement of legal fees are compelled, and that litigation fees are indirectly supervised by the courts especially through costs orders, and that commercial transaction fees increasingly are struck in competition against other advisers such as accountants and merchant bankers. And then there are, in fact, a lot of clients who observe how hard and well lawyers work to provide their services.

Sanity checks can and should be applied. If you want a New York salary, go there. If you are embarrassed by your large local fees, why not call them excessive and therefore reduce them? Should lawyers perhaps see their most expensive colleagues as, just maybe, not the best value for their clients?

But complacency, self-satisfaction and a kind of guild smugness await a legal profession content to leave issues about the level of legal fees in this neat package. Other tertiary-educated but less well-remunerated occupational groups are entitled to challenge lawyers on how much we’re paid. Lawyers can’t keep referring back to their years of study and early period of modestly paid apprenticeship. The former is not so long, and the latter is perhaps not long enough. Could HECS payments be the next form of this kind of self-justification? What multiples of annual earnings could one seriously claim on that account?

Increasingly, the pay of lawyers is justified by reference to the money offered in, say, London, New York, and Chicago. It suffices here to ask, how does the salary given for professional serfdom in those centres of commerce raise what should be paid in Sydney, Melbourne, and Perth? Sanity checks can and should be applied. If you want a New York salary, go there. If you are embarrassed by your large local fees, why not call them excessive and therefore reduce them? Should lawyers perhaps see their most expensive colleagues as, just maybe, not the best value for their clients?

Litigation currently displays aspects of a legal culture war. The Bar’s (and some solicitors’) time-honoured speculative (“spec”) briefs long ago won the High Court’s admiring approval. Almost as long ago, barristers recognised the possibilities for corruption posed by the spec representation of plaintiffs for whom the best, or only, prospect of a financial return might turn out to be a settlement – that is, a compromise less than the client wants, as compromises tend to be.

In hindsight, it is not surprising that the noble if flawed tradition of spec briefs – no win, no pay – has flowered, or exploded, into the frankly entrepreneurial industry of litigation funding, usually associated with what are dubbed “class actions”. No-one who has advised or appeared on either side of these models of modern litigation could be unaware of the fertile soil they present for conflicts of the most venal kind.

Who are the clients? Who is the master of the case? What does it mean, socially and professionally, for litigators to spur into action those whose claims were neither pressing nor large, but who belong to a formidably large group of similarly unenthusiastic pseudo-litigants? Apparently, it produces major litigation, enthused by the money it promises for funders and lawyers. But who is to say that this kind of money for lawyers does not, in reality, provide justice where formerly access to it was too expensive? The High Court will soon be looking at these questions.

As a former NSW Bar president I can’t depart the topic of legal fees without reliving shudders about lawyers and the flouting of their taxation obligations. Because it is lawyers, not just barristers, nor New South Wales.

Lawyers have no better immunity than anyone else from the requirements to render annual returns of income and to pay the tax due. If anything, the publicly funded system in which all lawyers – not just litigators – work makes it all the more intolerable that some lawyers resist meeting such reasonable obligations.

The statutorily deemed debt that is income tax is not, contrary to a stray dictum in the Court of Appeal, indistinguishable from debts incurred in private life. Welshing on the democratically set tariff for benefiting from organised society is, as the Court of Appeal has well and truly held, a special sign of unfitness for the office of lawyer.

This, hopefully temporary, embarrassment from a dysfunctional relation between lawyers and their money has undoubtedly added to the burdens of leaders of the profession when they lobby politically for the really very modest money demands of their most vulnerable clients – those who have suffered personal injury. Lawyers are now constantly met with strident protests that they are merely engaged in lining their own pockets.

It is, of course, true that restored or enhanced rights to compensation for the injured will end up providing work for the lawyers engaged in such disputes. The same truism applies to those who provide food, shelter and health care for those who need it – but that does not disqualify providers of those social goods from being politically active in promoting fair and general access to those goods. Actually, providers quite often know quite a lot about the weaknesses of current methods of provision. But for some time to come, lawyers will be handicapped by cynical responses as they try to advocate the claims of injured people for fair compensation payouts.

Meantime, over the last two decades the legal profession has been officially told to face up to being in business. Although there has been no official rhetoric to countenance backsliding on professional ethics, there has been any number of government enquiries and statutory overhauls to enshrine, proselytise, and – to a degree – compel the observance of competition principles. In this country, the regulatory politics have gone so far as to challenge, as anti-competitive, the Bar’s prohibition against the combination in business of advocates who would otherwise be each other’s competitors. Fortunately, that challenge has yet to succeed.

Thoroughgoing reviews of the legal profession in England and Wales and in Ireland concluded that most aspects of the institutional structures and practice regulation should conform to the laissez-faire model overtly driven by self-interest for money. In the lobbying clinches, time and time again, consultants to these enquiries made clear their political economy bent – the provision of legal services is not so different from that of any goods and services, many of which also require obvious quality and honesty regulation. Lawyers and money are thus treated as amounting to legal practice as entrepreneurial business, to be encouraged to act according to the profit motive.

None of the law reform reporters or attorney-generals responsible for the slightly muted competition march in Australia has intended any weakening of the legal profession’s ethical vigour. But their failure to slow, let alone halt, the slide into legal practice as a business brings about intolerable conflicts of interest and duty.

Of course, competition principles have inspired some salutary changes to the legal profession, not least an insistence that we justify in the public interest our grab-bag of rules and customs, some of which could sensibly be thrown out or dusted off.

Lawyers and money are thus treated as amounting to legal practice as entrepreneurial business, to be encouraged to act according to the profit motive.

In parallel, the last three decades of litigation and court reforms illustrate a continuing paradox of that project. As the court system improves in the direction of “just, quick, and cheap”, one of the aims is to reduce the volume of contested cases. This is to direct the public funding and the private expense of litigation to the tiny minority of cases where compromise is either not preferable or not possible.

But as success reduces delays in court lists, and speeds up hearings and streamlines costly procedures, so the calculus that determines which cases are better settled or fought shifts in favour of fighting. In this endless circle, the relation of lawyers and money displays in its most striking fashion our dependence on government and public funding.

How could lawyers discharge that social responsibility and honour that dependence if the standing of individual lawyers is measured by how much revenue they generate? What chance of litigation reform if the profession, metamorphosed into business for profit, explicitly disapproves of a lawyer devising the least costly option for the client? Imagine if medical practitioners took the approach that professional kudos should go most to the doctor who performs the most procedures for the largest fees on a particular patient?

It is not as if all competent and hard-working doctors and lawyers make inadequate incomes. Or has that observation lost its force, by the much closer proximity of commercial lawyers, in the service of big-business clients?

Lawyers are frequently parts of multi-disciplinary teams helping big business do business or government sell public assets. Other members of those teams are accountants. Accountants are well paid, too, and it may be that some are so well paid that they have encouraged commercial lawyers to feel their own value is under-appreciated by their common clients.

But perhaps the star turns are the merchant bankers. Scarcely merchants, although very mercantile. Usually not really bankers, but rolling in money – with pieces of the action, capitalist venturers, and people the lawyers briefly knew at university. No wonder the published aspirations of many big law firms have much more in common with large accounting combines and dazzling millionaires factories, than with their legal colleagues in small firms, in the country and in sole practice.

So too, it may appear, much of the work of commercial lawyers has a diminishing connection with justice, let alone an involvement in its administration. The wrong fork in the road was taken when the profession determined to specialise and sub-specialise its brightest graduates almost as soon as they had obtained their generalist law degree and practical legal training.

In many cases, the commercial lawyers are really part of the clients’ entourage, being served with the client by the litigators and counsel. Perhaps it is time for that division to be recognised formally. The lawyers closest to the big money of their business clients, having nothing really to do with the general corpus of law and no real interest in the administration of justice, might leave the legal profession and join with the management consultants, accountants, finance brokers and merchant bankers.

Much of the work of commercial lawyers has a diminishing connection with justice, let alone an involvement in its administration.

Excessive proximity to business clients, and their money, seems to have produced elements of imitation unlikely to enhance professionalism. The phenomenon of the big – and bigger and bigger – law firm should not simply be witnessed as if it were a force of nature. If we pinch ourselves, it will be remembered that not long ago the leading firms in this country, big by the standards of their times, had so few partners and staff that, by the standards of our time, they would not even be considered as mid-tier firms.

Yet were they able to conduct the largest and most complex litigation, minister to the most important property and commercial transactions, that their clients required? Could they carry out the legal research and inculcate the scholarship needed to advance the law and win the hardest cases in the highest courts? Were they good lawyers? Did they live in penury? The answers to those questions certainly do not support the truth of slogans such as “grow or die”. They do not substantiate the claim that only mega-firms have the capacity, whatever that means, to provide the services required by mega-cases.

One of those mega-cases being fought at the moment caused a press commentator to wonder whether, even for the magnates involved, it was so expensive that it might be the last hoorah for such major litigation. For some, this would be wishful thinking, for others an appalling downturn in their market. It is as unlikely as the death of the novel.

Yet very large pieces of litigation should not be deplored. Especially in commerce, very large forces do have disputes with each other, sometimes on a tectonic scale. Of course this jurisdiction and its lawyers are the best place and people to help resolve such disputes. Mega-cases are not really the problem. But thinking that the possibility of them occurring from time to time means that mega-firms need to exist constantly – that is a problem.

Competition theorists frequently talk up the promises of economies of scale. The idea is that a mass-produced motor car will be much cheaper and perhaps better than a custom-made one. Everyone wins (apart from the custom-builders). If that analogy held good for the provision of legal services in private practice, the biggest firms would have the lowest fees. But they don’t. If it held good, the biggest firms would provide legal services to the broadest range of willing clients. But they don’t.

Motor car manufacturers don’t incur fiduciary and other obligations like confidentiality which prevent them from selling their models to all comers. Lawyers do. The economy of scale is not a useful concept to justify more and more lawyers becoming less and less available to more and more clients – which is an inexorable effect of big firms, demanding business clients and reliable registers of conflicts.

The financial pages of serious newspapers have started to report and discuss the performance of big and aspiring middle-sized law firms in a sometimes fascinating mixture of sporting journalism, theatre reviews and gossip columns. Virtually the only yardstick of performance, equated to professional quality, is money. Very occasionally, the money won for the client, never the money saved by the client, nor the value bought by the clients’ money. Mostly just the money received by the firm, the revenue.

To rub it in, the figures are presented and re-presented to drive a message home. Whether it is the journalists or the firms who want the message sent is difficult to say – but one rarely reads of disclaimers or resistance by the firms with the glittering figures.

What is the message? That money defines the most desirable professional attainments in private practice. See the number of leveraged fee-earners per equity partner, or the revenue per head of professional staff. Marvel at the margins between revenue and costs, and especially the profit per partner. Business clients presumably put up with this perverse publicity on the part of their chosen lawyers, because imitation is understood to be the sincerest form of flattery.

It is doubtful whether the elaborate and intelligently managed businesses thast are the big law firms seriously claim they’re the only ones capable of doing what much smaller firms used to do – that is, deploy learning, integrity, imagination and loyalty in the fused service to clients in the administration of justice. What attribute necessary for that exercise may be found only in big firms? If really large teams are from time to time required, why not form ad hoc alliances?

It would be demeaning to justify big firms getting bigger so as to provide lots of IT, word processing, and photocopying. Those activities are no more professional than stationery is the business of a bank.

If all this misunderstands the way the world is, and vainly protests against progress, the path taken by lawyers imitating business clients has some interesting milestones coming up. Business outsources not only clerical drudgery but also highly skilled and relatively capital-intensive IT and document management – and outsources them to the ancient home of mathematics in India. Why shouldn’t massive mindless discovery be conducted in Mumbai. The requisite partner in charge could go there to supervise paralegals retained at much cheaper prices than permanent paralegals on staff in Sydney.

If money is the measure, who would dare to say that money for the lawyers is more important than money saved by the clients? Whenever functions or activities in the practice of law are no longer the essentially mental, personal and individual professional responsibility of lawyers, then the money spent on those other activities and functions surely should be spent as cheaply as possible in the clients’ interest.

The money necessary to keep a big firm going, to open the doors every morning (assuming they ever close during the 24 hours), is pretty scary. Decent human and social responsibilities to the many members of staff and their families mean that the partners and lawyers must generate very large sums of money by fees from clients, at a more or less constant level.

Perhaps it is time to ask if that business model presents, in the most obvious fashion imaginable, an intolerable conflict between the partners trying to do the right thing by their colleagues and staff at the firm, and doing the right thing by minimising their clients’ expenditure on legal services.

That conflict is presented in a form of dispute that very rarely reaches public attention. One of the less pleasant areas of advice work for some lawyers is partnership disputes – once upon a time dissolutions but now usually expulsions – among the partners of the larger law firms. There is good reason, from the point of view of public relations, for these disputes very, very rarely to go to court.

Increasingly over the the past 15 years, expulsions (and their precursors, downgrading of remuneration and support) have been decided on the basis of performance. What could possibly be wrong with that? Well, performance is invariably measured by money – and only money in the form of revenue.

The partnership deeds, the manuals and protocols all have commendable and sincere statements of professionalism, ethical service to clients and adherence to the requirements of law and justice. Those explicit standards of practice, not measured in money terms, only make clearer how important revenues have become. The non-mercenary standards are available to judge performance, but they are not used. Only revenue. Financial reasons are obvious and understandable. They include equally understandable grievances at partners who are not pulling their fair share of the heavy weight of paying to keep a big firm in business.

One expedient which may defer that intolerable conflict is for lawyers to join their business clients lock, stock and barrel. Not only the modest degree of corporatising already permitted, but out-and-out commercialising with publicly raised equity capital. Why should their own IPOs not become a new kind of professional achievement for lawyers?

When Teddy Roosevelt took on the Rockefellers and their ilk, Standard Oil must have appeared to be a natural growth of business conducted with appropriate self-interested vigour. There are probably still many who think anti-trust policy should never have made it into the statute books in the US or anywhere else. As you may have gathered by now, I’m not one of those. Industrialists and money need curbs and controls especially in relation to size and domination. So too, lawyers and money.