We often hear from faculty members who assert that they don’t have to think about teaching ethics because their subject doesn’t include conversations about values. However, like it or not, every faculty member teaches ethics—either intentionally or unintentionally. All educators talk about the ethical potholes of their discipline, model a (hopefully) civil and respectful environment in their classroom, and advise students who come to them for wisdom and guidance.
The most basic ethics conversation involves warning students of the ethical potholes of our discipline. Often, we will showcase exemplars who have made unethical decisions because of a lack of self-awareness and hubris.
These cautionary tales alert students to the types of problems that will land them in legal trouble. During these conversations, we can also discuss the ethical issues surrounding emerging technologies and research. Whether we teach biology and explore the ethics of gene editing or IT where questions of how to handle big data arise, all of us can use our experience and expertise to flash warning lights for students.
Many of us shy away from these conversations because we don’t feel qualified to teach ethics. Without training in behavioral ethics and psychology, we may not feel comfortable probing into the reasons people strayed into unethical behavior. However, all of us have considered how greed, blind loyalty, a desire for power, or just not paying attention can get someone on the wrong side of the law. And, often giving a concrete example of a universal problem is enough to make an impression on our students.
The second type of ethics conversation is inherent in the structure of our classrooms. With a modicum of awareness, we can all learn how to facilitate conversations with people with different ethical perspectives and disparate value priorities. We begin by modelling respect for students who hold ideas and express positions with which we don’t agree. Our task is to help them think carefully and articulate their positions clearly, not to have them agree with us.
My college-aged grandchildren talk about considering the risk of writing a paper with which their faculty will not agree and then perhaps getting a lower grade than if they had agreed with the biases of their prof. They debate about when to bring forward to a dean the behavior of a faculty member who has disrespected or silenced members of the class—always, by the way, after they are certain to never encounter that teacher again. Each of us can examine our own practices to ensure that we are not one of those teachers who is roasted over Christmas dinner.
A recent Harvard study found that 51% of students feel comfortable sharing political opinions at their college “without fear of censorship or negative repercussions.” However, 8% of those who identified as Democrat, 14% of those who identified as Independent, and 21% of those who identified as Republican said that they were not comfortable sharing their ideas. The tension for each of us is engaging in interesting conversations that will gently widen the viewpoint of both conservatives and liberals without making anyone feel silenced. With thoughtfulness and practice—and a willingness to learn from our students—we can create an open and inviting space for true learning.
Finally, all of us have students who come to us for wisdom and guidance. In these conversations, students often struggle with how to balance a desire for accomplishment with treating people with whom they work and study with respect and care. They are getting early glimpses of a common ethical problem in organizations where people are focused on their own career and are rewarded even if they don’t consider the impact of their behaviors on others. Charges of harassment or bullying, or a concern about a toxic culture, often result from this type of ethical blindness and the leadership’s failure to address the goal of civility. Students can begin to learn strategies for not making that ethical error and dealing with those who are not kind or civil.
In these conversations, we can explore with our students how to have the moral courage to make those big decisions that can shape or derail a career. Because those choices are not obvious, we may find ourselves sharing our own stories of making a tough decision that impacted our career. In a recent blog, Matt Reed talks about how his decision to be an involved dad and to write frankly about issues in higher education in his blog led to a glass ceiling in his own career. Those moments of vulnerability not only help students see us as real people, but they can begin to believe that they can make the hard decisions when needed.
None of us needs a degree in philosophy to help our students learn be an effective and ethical person in a complex, rapidly changing environment. We can model how to harmonize personal values and organizational values as we teach and do our research. The only question is whether those lessons will be taught from a space of mindfulness, where the learning can be highlighted, or from a position of oblivion. A beginning step toward mindfulness is to acknowledge that everyone does in fact teach ethics and to then search for ways to more thoughtfully engage the conversation about ethics. Your students will thank you.