Don’t lean too heavily on the ‘code of ethics’

I’m not a big fan of “codes of ethics.” This isn’t because I’m an unethical boob who wants people to lie and steal. Rather, I think that codes of ethics don’t necessarily result in ethical behavior and can, in the worst-case scenario, actually promote unethical behavior.

How can this be so? “We have a very fine code of ethics at our company,” I hear you say. And I’m sure you do, as do most companies. Enron, we’re told, had a very good ethical code — so good, according to one report, that the board of directors had to vote twice to temporarily suspend the code so they could vote on proposals that, if enacted, would violate it.

I’m not saying there’s no value to these codes. I think they put a stake in the ground and define some minimum standards of behavior that people should follow. The problem is that for some people the code — minimalist as it is — comes to define the end-all and be-all of ethical action. Some people are satisfied if they simply hew to the demands of the ethical code and go no further.

As a result, some people observe the letter of the law and completely ignore the spirit. Instead of trying to figure out what values the code is trying to promote, they focus solely on the specifics of the code. Often, specifics can be arbitrary and obscure the real goal.

As an example, InfoWorld and its parent company International Data Group are very conscious of promoting ethical actions among their employees and have ethical codes that hold up with the best of them. One rule specifies that I cannot accept a vendor’s gift worth more than $25.

I fully understand the rationale behind this, but there is nothing magical about $25. Someone, some time ago, pulled that number out of the air. I resist the notion that I can’t be bought for $24.95, but that I can for $25.50. That’s just silly on the face of it. And if you don’t think that someone can’t be bought for less than $25, just go to a trade show and watch people make fools out of themselves for a $10 T-shirt.

The real motivation behind the rule is to make sure that those of us who work for the company don’t put ourselves in a position that makes us feel beholden to a vendor. This could color our evaluation of their product. This doesn’t have to be an overt “selling out,” but close ties — especially financial ones — can affect perception.

This is why in several decades of journalism I have always attempted to avoid getting too close to the people I cover. Many times, when you cover an industry or a segment of it for too long, it’s impossible not to become friends with people you see over and over at various events. When that happens, I have never felt comfortable with it.

The problem is that there are many ways of developing close ties besides taking expensive gifts. And I have seen cases — at other publications, not this one — in which writers became too cozy with the people they covered, even while staying within the rules that forbade them to accept gifts. So they observed the letter of the law, and the spirit went down the tubes.

Another problem is that rules rarely cover the complex situations we encounter in real life. Suppose I’m at a meeting at which vendors are in attendance. At lunch, I mention to my table companions that I need to get to the airport right after the meeting. One of the people at the table — a vendor’s representative — says that he is flying out too, has a rental car to return, and would be happy to give me a ride.

Here’s my problem. The cab fare to the airport would be more than $30 — above my gift limit. But the vendor really isn’t spending any more than he normally would in order to give me the ride. If I take the ride and don’t pay him, I am accepting a something of value greater than is allowed. If I give him $30, then he is accepting money from me and that may violate his company’s ethical code — and maybe more flagrantly because he’s taking actual cash for doing nothing more than driving to the airport as he would have done whether I accompanied him or not.

The example may seem trivial. Few people would accuse me of taking bribes by accepting the ride. But, of course, it’s not trivial at all. At the very least, it’s a technical violation. If someone back at the home office were “gunning” for me, this would be the perfect opportunity to fire me for cause, because I had knowingly violated the company’s ethics policy.

Some organizations, particularly government agencies, have extremely stringent policies along these lines. There may even be organizations in which the employees would be specifically forbidden to take the ride, no matter how small the cost.

But it’s these same agencies that most clearly exemplify the letter of the law vs. spirit of the law paradox. One very popular career path for officials of regulatory agencies is into the waiting arms of the very industries they regulate. Knowing that a comfortable income awaits you on your retirement from government service can clearly change the way you see the world when interpreting and enforcing regulations.

These employees would never dream of taking even a tuna fish sandwich from a regulated industry. That would violate their agency’s code of ethics. But they buy their own lunch — with their eyes fixed firmly on the six-figure prize at the end of the rainbow. Those who interpret the rules too stringently are eliminated from the running, so the incentive is there to be as pro-industry as possible. No tuna sandwiches needed.

At the worst extreme, ethical codes invite the self-styled “lawyers” to ferret out legalistic ways in which they can do what they want while staying within the written rules. If a vendor were to deliver a $24 bottle of wine to my house every day for 24 days, would that violate the rules? After all, the rules don’t specify how many gifts I can accept within a certain time frame — only the dollar limit for an individual gift. Have I received two $288 cases of wine or 24 $24 bottles? The ethicist in me would say the former; the “lawyer” in me would say the latter.

The code, ultimately, will be the scoundrel’s last defense. He or she will point to the written code and insist there was no violation, when, in fact, the spirit of the code had been violated from the beginning.

So, I think we’re left with a paradox. Companies feel they need to have a code to show that they have established some minimal standards of behavior for employees. And, on one hand, they’re right. But once the codes are written — assuming they’re not the size and complexity of the U.S. tax laws — they won’t necessarily ensure ethical actions. In some cases, they may allow unethical behavior because clever but unprincipled people may be able to observe the written rule while making a mockery of the ethical intent.

The real danger is in thinking that because your company has a “code of ethics,” ethical behavior is the logical and necessary result. In fact, just the opposite may be true.

Do you have any “codes of ethics” stories? Share them with other readers at www.infoworld.com/forums/ethics or write to me at [email protected].

Source: www.infoworld.com