The Ethics of Leadership and the Integrity of Leaders

Jesus was denied by Peter three times as he was taken in to custody, questioned and beaten.

Roméo Dallaire watched, helpless, as 800,000 Rwandans died in genocide as the world turned its back.

In Iraq, a soldier who stood up for prisoners’ rights was himself jailed.

What do these people have in common? They were leaders; they were parts of major social movements and political events; they were attacked, and abandoned, for their beliefs; they persevered through these difficulties.

But how did these leaders decide they were right? How, in the face of opposition, did these leaders decide what was ethical and responsible? Where do they find the confidence in their beliefs and integrity of their being to accept the sometimes harsh consequences of their actions?

How is one to know whether it is the opposed or those in opposition who are wrong?

This past Wednesday, I sat in a room with the executive board members of the theatre department student organizations and the faculty of the SVSU theatre department. This past Wednesday, I listened as the faculty presented a letter that I had written, but had been delivered by another student against my will. This past Wednesday, I was called out for arrogance, acting negatively against the department, working behind their backs, and marking my own words as the words of the whole student body. This past Wednesday, I listened as every member of the executive boards, my once-supporters, denied involvement until I was the only one left.

From this event, I can gather three very different viewpoints on the situation offering three very different questions as to the ethics of leadership.

The first is my own – my views as the writer of the letter, and the leader of the “movement,” for lack of a better word, combined with the views of the SVSU theatre department faculty. During the winter 2011 semester, I watched as a number of restrictions came about the SVSU theatre department. These restrictions severely limited the number of opportunities of which students could take advantage. Over the summer, I discussed with a few students the best way to voice our concerns, taking in to consideration that cattiness and competitiveness which infiltrate the actions and judgments of the members of the department. We came to the conclusion that an anonymous letter would be the easiest way to gain attention, and open a channel for communication and action. I gathered the opinions of my supporters and began writing the letter, sending it out to the group for edits and opinions. However, in late August, a new set of policies was posted. These policies were that which we had been hoping to gain from the letter I was writing, leading to a unanimous decision against sending the letter. I immediately abandoned the writing process.

In my initial decision to voice my concerns, gain support, and write the letter I felt that I was acting as an advocate for the department for which I am so passionate. In my opinion, I was taking an ethical stance to stop the turn in the wrong direction that the department had taken. However, following the meeting and discussion with the faculty members, I could see where my actions may have seemed facetious. I could see where I may have seemed like a negative influence on the department, or a radical acting behind their backs.

Following these realizations, I began to wonder what I had been thinking. Who was I to think I could call out an unjust department? What did I know about what was ethical or right? If I had no publicly acknowledged support, how was I, or anyone, to know I wasn’t just a trouble maker working for my own self-interest? Was I leader because I took action based on my opinion, or was I wrong for my approach and my negative actions towards the department after everything it has given me? This is a normative ethics question to which I did not, and still do not, have the answer. I no longer feel like a strong, confident, and passionate leader. I feel like a child. I can’t help but wonder how all those other great leaders felt, and how they managed to keep pushing through.

The second view is that of the sender of the letter. Although I was the leader in the original plan and the writer of the letter, I abandoned the process when I no longer felt action was needed. But someone disagreed. Someone printed an email I had sent to the other students along with the letter and delivered it to the chair of the department.  Was he/she a leader for standing up against his/her peers, or wrong for taking my words and using them against my will? Were his or her actions ethical or self-interested? This is another question of normative ethics to which I do not have the answer.

I can see where this person may feel he/she was supporting the department faculty in revealing and stopping a trouble maker. After all, it was Plato who wrote that our enemies are not always the worst people, as our friends are not always the best. But it was agreed the letter was a bad idea and would not be pursued – was not that enough to prove integrity and responsibility?  

Though the delivery of the letter would have eliminated departmental competition for the deliverer, he/she hurt his/her peers and coworkers – the people with whom he/she has to work for the next few years; the people who make up his/her network of support when he/she enters the workforce. Was it not Plato who also wrote that justice goes beyond honesty and legal responsibility – that we must consider the situation, the people involved, and the potential outcomes of our actions? As a scholarship student, president of a student organization, mentor to incoming freshmen, and member of the SVSU Roberts fellows, my entire career is riding on my reputation and my standing with the faculty of the departments with which I work. I am positive that a number of students in that room with me could say the same thing for their own reputations. How can one person justly take that away from us?

It is this consideration of reputation that leads in to the third and final view point: that of my so-called supporters. When prompted for admittance of involvement, although their emails were clearly listed on the print out, the students with whom I was working denied involvement without hesitation.  I believe that involvement was denied to save these reputations. I was the sender of the email, and thus could not escape what was coming. They were receivers of an email, and thus had the opportunity to deny a literal decision to be involved. This opportunity was emphasized by a motivation to save face and desire not to risk one’s own future and education. These people, whether or not they were involved in the actual writing of the letter, went along with it. They never said, “No, it is an unjustified action which will only cause damage.” We were all involved.

The difference between me and the others in the room is that I had the integrity to take responsibility for what I had done and deal with the consequences. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t intended to send the letter, it had already been sent. Whether or not the writing of the letter was ethically right was not the issue anymore. It was an issue of motivational ethics: why should they have done what ethically may have been the right decision? Standing together in the face of opposition would have lessened the force against all of us, rather than focus the force on myself – though we all would have been in trouble. But there was no reason to bring trouble upon oneself when it could so easily have been pushed aside and avoided.

But at the same time, who am I to place myself above the others? The faculty members of the department make the rules and decide who succeeds and who does not – and they made it very clear that I had demonstrated very poor judgment in my actions. As the initiator of the group, these actions were my own and merely supported by my followers. Given the choice, I am not sure that I could have taken that wrath upon myself. Given the choice, I am not sure that I could have stepped up to the plate and risked my entire future. I cannot say I would not have denied involvement had I been given the option. The integrity that I displayed was forced upon me by the situation.

It was this discovery that left me questioning how leaders do it. How did Socrates accept his banishment based on his philosophical ideals? How did Nelson Mandela handle twenty-seven years of jail for his actions and beliefs? How did they know they were right and not just crazy? Does the perception of one’s sanity matter if he is passionate for his cause? What about Hitler? I am sure he was passionate – and yet, ethically, I cannot say his cause was just.   

Although I had hoped to come to an answer during the writing of this entry, I cannot say that I have. I have simply discovered more questions – more things to consider – in my own development as a leader. What choices will I make again? What mistakes have I made from which I can learn? What examples can I follow? I can only hope that this trial within the department will lead to a deeper and more thorough development as a leader, no matter the ethics of the moment.