Winners Never Cheat: Even in Difficult Times, New and Expanded Edition
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How ironic, not to mention shameful, that the most educated and industrialized nations seem to have the most troublesome time with universal values of integrity, while semi-primitive groups do not.
Michael Josephson, who heads the Josephson Institute of Ethics in Marina del Rey, California, says one only has to view popular shows such as The Apprentice and Survivor to get the notion that life’s winners are those who deceive others without getting caught. Nobody seems offended by that. It’s not so much that temptations are any greater today, Josephson notes, it’s that our defenses have weakened.
Be that as it may, I maintain that each of us knows when basic moral rules are bent or broken. We even are aware when we are approaching an ethical boundary. Whatever the expedient rationale or instant gratification that “justified” stepping over that line, we don’t feel quite right about it because we were taught better.
It is this traditional set of behavioral values that will lead us not into temptation but to long-term success. Forget about who finishes first and who finishes last. Decent, honorable people finish races—and their lives—in grand style and with respect.
Forget about who finishes first and who finishes last. Decent, honorable people finish races—and their lives—in grand style and with respect.
The 20th-century explorer Ernest Shackleton, whose legendary, heroic exploits in Antarctica inspired half a dozen books, looked at life as a game to be played fairly and with honor:
Life to me is the greatest of all games. The danger lies in treating it as a trivial game, a game to be taken lightly, and a game in which the rules don’t matter much. The rules matter a great deal. The game has to be played fairly or it is no game at all. And even to win the game is not the chief end. The chief end is to win it honorably and splendidly.
The principles we learned as children were simple and fair. They remain simple and fair. With moral compasses programmed in the sandboxes of long ago, we can navigate career courses with values that guarantee successful lives, a path that is good for one’s mental and moral well-being, not to mention long-term material success, if we but check those compasses on a regular basis.
WHEN YOUNG MEN OR WOMEN ARE
BEGINNING LIFE, THE MOST IMPORTANT
PERIOD, IT IS OFTEN SAID, IS THAT IN
WHICH THEIR HABITS ARE FORMED.
THAT IS A VERY IMPORTANT PERIOD.
BUT THE PERIOD IN WHICH THE IDEALS
OF THE YOUNG ARE FORMED AND ADOPTED
IS MORE IMPORTANT STILL. FOR THE
IDEAL WITH WHICH YOU GO FORWARD TO
MEASURE THINGS DETERMINES THE
NATURE, SO FAR AS YOU ARE CONCERNED,
OF EVERYTHING YOU MEET.
—HENRY WARD BEECHER
IT IS NOT OUR AFFLUENCE, OR OUR
PLUMBING, OR OUR CLOGGED FREEWAYS
THAT GRIP THE IMAGINATION OF OTHERS.
RATHER, IT IS THE VALUES UPON WHICH
OUR SYSTEM IS BUILT.
—SEN. J. WILLIAM FULBRIGHT
Chapter Two
Check Your Moral Compass
We know darn well what is
right and wrong.
No one is raised in a moral vacuum. Every mentally balanced human recognizes basic right from wrong. Whether a person is brought up as Christian, Jew, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu, Unitarian, New Age, a free thinker, or an atheist, he or she is taught from toddler on that you shouldn’t lie, steal, cheat, or be deliberately rude, and that there are consequences for doing so.
There is no such thing as a moral agnostic. An amoral person is a moral person who temporarily—and often quite creatively—disconnects from his or her values. Each of us possesses a moral GPS, a compass or conscience, if you will, programmed by parents, teachers, coaches, clergy, grandparents, uncles and aunts, scout-masters, friends, and peers. It came with the package, and it continues to differentiate between proper and improper courses until the day we expire.
There is no such thing as a moral agnostic. An amoral person is a moral person who temporarily and creatively disconnects his actions from his values.
When I was 10 years old, there resided several blocks from our home Edwards Market, one of those old houses with the grocery store in the front and the proprietors’ residence in the back. It was only 200 or 300 square feet in size, but at my age the place looked like a supermarket. At the time, I was making about 50 cents a day selling and delivering the local newspaper.
I entered the store while on my route one day, and no one seemed to be around. Ice cream sandwiches had just come on the market. It was hot, and I wanted to try one. I reached inside the small freezer and grabbed an ice cream bar. I slipped the wrapped sandwich into my pocket. Moments later, Mrs. Edwards appeared, asking if she could help me.
“No, thanks,” I answered politely and headed for the door. Just before it slammed shut, I heard her say, “Jon, are you going to pay for that ice cream sandwich?” Embarrassed, I turned around and sheepishly walked back to the freezer where my slightly shaking hand returned the ice cream sandwich to its rightful place. Mrs. Edwards never said another word.
It was a necessary lesson for a young, adventuresome boy, one that I have not forgotten 60 years later. It wasn’t at the moment of being exposed that I suddenly realized I had done something wrong. I knew it the second I slipped my hand into the freezer, just as I would know today if I pulled a similar, but more sophisticated, stunt in a business transaction. Each of us is taught it is wrong to take that which doesn’t belong to us.
Certain types of behavior encourage a disconnect with our inner compass or conscience: Rationalizing dims caution lights, arrogance blurs boundaries, desperation overrides good sense. Whatever the blinders may be, the right-wrong indicator light continues to flash all the same. We might not ask, but the compass tells.
Some point out that today’s society tolerates too much questionable activity, making it difficult for the younger generation to get a consistent fix on right and wrong. Little wonder, goes this line of thought, that when the newest batch of apprentices bolt from their classrooms, their values are open to negotiation.
Whatever the blinders may be, the right-wrong indicator light continues to flash all the same. We might not ask, but the compass tells.
I am aware of polls showing that the older generation views the younger generations as less grounded in ethics, but I am not totally buying that line of thought. Society certainly is more permissive than when I was a child, but does anyone today truly condone stealing? Some modern teens may dismiss it, but does any student not consider cheating intrinsically wrong, no matter how many of their friends do it? Does society accept cooking corporate books, embezzlement, fraud, or outlandish perks for corporate executives? The answers, of course, are no.
Basic misbehavior is considered as wrong today as it was 100 years ago, although I grant that today’s atmosphere produces more creative and sophisticated rationalizations for such mischief. This is why heeding the advice of George Washington, a man renowned for his integrity, is worthwhile: “Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”
Humans are the only earthly species that experience guilt. We never see our pet dogs, cats, or canaries acting chagrined for eating too much food or forgetting their manners. (And heaven knows some of them abuse the system.) Humans are unique for their ability to recognize righteous paths from indecent ones. And when we choose the wrong route, we squirm—at least inwardly.
The needle of individual compasses points true. Conceptually, ethical routes are self-evident to reasonable persons.
We are not always required by law to do what is right and proper. Decency and generosity, for instance, carry no legal mandate. Pure ethics are optional.
Laws define courses to which we must legally adhere or avoid. Ethics are standards of conduct that we ought to follow. There is some overlap of the two, but virtuous behavior usually is left to individual discretion. All the professional training in the world do
es not guarantee moral leadership. Unlike laws, virtue cannot be politically mandated, let alone enforced by bureaucrats, but that doesn’t stop them from trying. Congress considered the corporate world today so challenged when it comes to ethics that it enacted the Sarbanes-Oxley Act in an attempt to regain credibility for the marketplace. Ultimately, though, respect, civility, and integrity will return only upon the individual-by-individual return of values.
We are not always required by law to do what is right and proper. Decency and generosity, for instance, carry no legal mandate. Pure ethics are optional.
Ethical behavior is to business competition what sportsmanship is to athletic contests. We were taught to play by the rules, to be fair, and to show sportsmanship. The rulebook didn’t always state specifically that shortcuts were prohibited. It went without saying that every competitor ran around the oval track and didn’t cut across the infield.
My grandsons have a special club called The Great, Great Guys Club (The G3 Club). Members have to be at least six years old to attend meetings. It is not permissible to fall asleep, wet your pants, or crawl under the table, among other prohibitions. They set their own rules. Amazingly, the club is quite orderly. Because parents aren’t present, it is interesting to observe the standards they establish by themselves. Here are a couple of examples (with Grandpa’s literary padding):
Do what you’re supposed to when you are told to do it.
Kindness and honesty determine heart and character.
Never tell lies.
Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze.
Kids usually know proper behavior, even if they don’t always show it. Their moral compasses, although still developing, are in working order. They are too young to know they can trade in their conscience for a higher credit rating at Moody’s. They instinctively know a conscience at ease is a best friend. They have never heard of Sophocles, but they understand his message: “There is no witness so terrible or no accuser so powerful as the conscience.”
Ever notice how little guile youngsters exhibit? How honest they are with observations? How well they play with others? How smoothly they compete when adults aren’t present? Sure, there always were—and still are—periodic squabbles, teasing, and selfishness, but kids generally work it out without a 300-page rulebook or a court of law. Sandlot games are played without referees or umpires, clocks, or defined boundary lines. Vague though those lines may be, sides come to an agreement when someone stepped out-of-bounds. When kids occasionally are thoughtless, it is more a case of spontaneous reaction rather than calculated meanness.
As a rule, playground protocol requires we offer a hand up to flattened opponents, share toys, call out liars and cheaters, play games fairly, and utter expressions of gratitude and praise—please, thanks, nice shot, cool—without prompt. To paraphrase Socrates, clear consciences prompt harmony.
At times, certain students in my tenth-grade biology class would write answers to a forthcoming quiz on the palms of their hands or cuffs of their shirts. Not many tried this because everyone knew cheating was wrong. In addition to the fear of being caught, most students also longed for respect as much as good grades. Once someone saw you cheating, you were never elected to student offices or respected on the sports field. Maybe that was simply part of the innocence of the 1950s, but 21st century students still know cheating is wrong, even though they may show more indifference toward this transgression than past generations.
People often offer as an excuse for lying, cheating, and fraud that they were pressured into it by high expectations or that “everyone does it.” Some will claim that it is the only way they can keep up. Those excuses sound better than the real reasons they choose the improper course: arrogance, power trips, greed, and lack of backbone, all of which are equal-opportunity afflictions. One’s economic status, sphere of influence, religious upbringing, or political persuasions never seem to be factors in determining whom these viruses will next ensnare.
There is contained in every rationale and every excuse, bogus as each ultimately ends up being, an awareness of impropriety. Succeeding or getting to the top at all costs by definition is an immoral goal. The ingredients for long-term success—courage, vision, follow-through, risk, opportunity, sweat, sacrifice, skill, discipline, honesty, graciousness, generosity—never vary. And we all know this.
Succeeding or getting to the top at all costs by definition is an immoral goal.
However, in the winner-take-all atmosphere of today’s marketplace, shortcuts to success, at least initially, are alluring, and lying often can be lucrative. That said, scammers, cheaters, performance-enhancing drug users, shell-and-pea artists, and the like historically have never prevailed for long. And when their fall does come, it is fast, painful, embarrassing, and lasting.
Whether exaggerating resumés or revenues, plagiarizing or profiteering, philandering or fibbing, people nearly always attempt to justify their unethical conduct when the transgression is discovered. Enron officials rationalized from the beginning, and the same with Tyco brass, but the improper path is never a requisite for success.
Values provide us with ethical water wings whose deployment is as critical in today’s wave-tossed corporate boardrooms as they were in yesterday’s classrooms.
BECAUSE JUST AS GOOD MORALS
IF THEY ARE TO BE MAINTAINED, HAVE
NEED OF THE LAWS, SO THE LAWS, IF
THEY ARE TO BE OBSERVED, HAVE NEED
OF GOOD MORALS.
—MACHIAVELLI
THE SECRET OF LIFE IS HONESTY AND
FAIR DEALING. IF YOU CAN FAKE THAT,
YOU’VE GOT IT MADE.
—GROUCHO MARX
AMERICANISM MEANS THE VIRTUES OF
COURAGE, HONOR, JUSTICE, TRUTH,
SINCERITY, AND HARDIHOOD—THE
VIRTUES THAT MADE AMERICA. THE
THINGS THAT WILL DESTROY AMERICA
ARE PROSPERITY-AT-ANY-PRICE…
THE LOVE OF SOFT LIVING AND THE
GET-RICH-QUICK THEORY OF LIFE.
—THEODORE ROOSEVELT
Chapter Three
Play By the Rules
Compete fiercely and fairly—but no cutting in line.
Which rules we honor and which we ignore determine personal character, and it is character that determines how closely we will allow our value system to affect our lives.
Early on, infused with moral purpose by those who influenced us, we learned what counted and what did not. The Golden Rule, proper table manners, respecting others, good sportsmanship, telling the truth, not to mention those often-verbalized codes of schools, clubs, and churches—no cutting in line, eat everything on your plate, respect, helping those in need, and sharing—became the foundation of our character.
Character is most determined by integrity and courage. Your reputation is how others perceive you. Character is how you act when no one is watching.
These traits, or lack thereof, are the foundation of life’s moral decisions. Once dishonesty is introduced, distrust becomes the hallmark of future dealings or associations. The eighteenth-century Scottish philosopher Francis Hutcheson had this figured out: “Without staunch adherence to truth-telling, all confidence in communication would be lost.”
The negotiations, however, must be fair and honest. That way, you never have to remember what you said the previous day.
Businesspeople do not place their integrity in jeopardy by driving hard bargains, negotiating intensely, or fiercely seeking every legitimate advantage. The negotiations, however, must be fair and honest. That way, you never have to remember what you said the previous day.
I bargain simply as a matter of principle, whether it is a $1 purchase or a $1 billion acquisition. Negotiating excites me, but gaining an edge must never come at the expense of misrepresentation or bribery. In addition to being morally wrong, this version of cheating takes the fun out of cutting a deal.
Bribes and scams may produce temporary advantages, but the practice carries an enormou
s price tag. It cheapens the way business is done, temporarily enriches a few corrupt individuals, and makes a mockery of the rules of play.
In the 1980s, Huntsman Chemical opened a plant in Thailand. Mitsubishi was a partner in this joint venture, which we called HMT. With about $30 million invested, HMT announced the construction of a second site. I had a working relationship with the country’s minister of finance, who never missed an opportunity to suggest it could be closer.
I went to his home for dinner one evening where he showed me 19 new Cadillacs parked in his garage, which he described as “gifts” from foreign companies. I explained the Huntsman company didn’t engage in that sort of thing, a fact he smilingly acknowledged.
Several months later, I received a call from the Mitsubishi executive in Tokyo responsible for Thailand operations. He stated HMT had to pay various government officials kickbacks annually to do business and that our share of this joint obligation was $250,000 for that year.
I said we had no intention of paying even five cents toward what was nothing more than extortion. He told me every company in Thailand paid these “fees” in order to be guaranteed access to the industrial sites. As it turned out and without our knowledge, Mitsubishi had been paying our share up to this point as the cost of doing business, but had decided it was time Huntsman Chemical carried its own baggage.
The next day, I informed Mitsubishi we were selling our interest. After failing to talk me out of it, Mitsubishi paid us a discounted price for our interest in HMT. We lost about $3 million short term. Long haul, it was a blessing in disguise. When the Asian economic crisis came several years down the road, the entire industry went under.
In America and Western Europe, we proclaim high standards when it comes to things such as paying bribes, but we don’t always practice what we preach. Ethical decisions can be cumbersome and unprofitable in the near term, but after our refusal to pay “fees” in Thailand became known, we never had a problem over bribes again in that part of the world. The word got out: Huntsman just says no. And so do many other companies.