Welcome to March, in which we once again join many fine insurance organizations in celebrating National Ethics Month!
Regular readers know my approach to ethics is not based upon the traditional "right versus wrong" but rather a path I believe far superior when applying ethics to the practical issues insurance folks face every day: right versus right.
Why? Because from a real world application point of view, what do we gain from beating "don't do wrong, do right" examples into the ground? Assuming the licensing laws in your state have not regressed to an age requirement somewhere in the lower teens, shouldn't adults already have learned that lesson? Yet when looking at many state guidelines for their required ethics courses, there is a great emphasis on "tell them to be honest or else." I submit that those insurance practitioners who haven't learned that lesson by this stage in life should simply be reported to the proper authorities to immediately have their licenses revoked.
To me these well-meant but misguided efforts at creating honesty where none currently exists are like the story of the aging preacher who ended a particularly rousing revival sermon on giving generously with the shouted challenge "All of those among you who will commit to fully tithe to the church from this day forward, stand up!" Immediately the entire crowd leaped to its feet, with "Amens" and "Hallelujahs" ringing from the rafters. On his way home, the preacher turned to his wife and smiled. "Guess the old guy's still got it, eh?" She simply replied, "Yes, you've still got it. You got those who already tithe to confirm it, and got the rest of them to lie."
Permit me to focus my efforts on those already honest individuals who will endure ethical agony simply because they always believed being honest was enough. Nay, grasshopper, the true need for ethical training lies with those who need to know that being ethical will require some of the hardest decisions they've ever made: the "right vs. right" crossroads.
These crossroads are not theoretical. No, they confront us daily. And the mere fact we think they will be easy and obvious decisions is what leaves us unprepared and subject to pain or panic—or both—when finally facing the unavoidable choice to be made.
What Would You Do?
For example, consider a young SeaBee in September of 1942. His idealistic sign-up, journey from the familiar farms of the Midwest to the coast of California, months of basic training, and a long voyage over what seemed the vast emptiness of the Pacific Ocean have brought him to an anchorage off an obscure island called Peleliu, now part of the island nation of Palau. Everyone knows something is up, because after weeks of relatively modest rations they have just been given an all-you-can-eat feast of monstrous proportions. The long awaited orders followed, and now the men are lined up on the deck, preparing to descend into waiting landing craft. Noting how the craft are tossing and bouncing on the tall waves, he begins to crystalize a few formerly unconnected realities. Among them:
• What idiot feeds a soldier that kind of meal and then wants him to get into a tossing, leaping landing craft? Just the thought has many around him already heaving up their recent feast.
• With the load of equipment he is carrying, if that landing craft overturns, no amount of swimming experience gained in the local rivers and lakes of the Midwest will matter; he is going straight to the bottom of the ocean.
• The firing from the beach is getting heavy, and he has already seen several of the landing craft blasted from the water. For many of those soldiers who trained so hard for so long and never even made it to the beach of their first landing, their war was over.
• Although they all suspected that the weeks of bravado expressed by fellow soldiers were often a mask to cover natural fears of the unknown, the masks are all off now. The total terror beginning to appear on the faces of those around him likely mirrors his own.
• He wants to be brave, but he is finding that thoughts of his young wife and two infant daughters back home cannot be coolly waved aside. For all the banter and bull sessions on the voyage here, he realizes this is the first time he truly understands that he may never see them again.
Then comes the order to go over the side into the craft. What would you do? Although the "right" answer may seem obvious, consider for a moment: Which right answer?
• Is it right for him to do his duty as a soldier?
• Is it right for him to follow orders?
• Is it right for him to honor his loyalty to his "band of brothers" and fight for each other to all get home?
• Is it right as a father of young children to want to be there for them, see them grow into the women he hopes they will be?
• Is it right to protect his young wife from becoming a financially destitute young widow, too soon deprived of her husband and his pledged support as she focuses on raising their family?
• Is it right to honor what is commonly accepted to be the number one human instinct—survival
Clearly these are all "right" answers. But there is one catch: He has to choose just one, knowing full well that choice ultimately may mean the others will be lost forever.
Can you now see why "right versus wrong" is not only an impractical goal of ethical training, but also focuses on the weakest form of ethical conundrum? Our SeaBee has listed no "wrong" answers above. True ethical decisions are difficult, painful, and must be made without any real knowledge of whether they will work out for the best. In the above example, my Dad had no idea when he got into that craft if he was going to even survive the trip to the Peleliu beach, much less the horrors of what the Museum of the Marine Corps now calls "the bitterest battle of the war for the Marines." He didn't know for certain if he would ever go home to his family again. Yet he had a decision to make, and he made it.
Yes, the story is true; when it comes to a subject as crucial as ethics, I don't believe in theoreticals.
It's about the Choice, not the Result
One other key point: whether a decision is truly ethical or not is measured by the decision, not the result. Although my Dad survived, thousands of his fellows who made the exact same decision never saw home again. Does that mean they made the wrong choice? Of course not
When you are facing ethical decisions in your life, focus on the choice, not the results. All of us have done and will do the right thing, only to find someone (or many someones) angry at us for it. That right decision may cost us a sale, a contract or a client. That doesn't make the decision wrong; it's just not the one that someone else may wish you had chosen. Which leads us to the key goal of all ethical behavior: Not that everyone always will agree with you, but that they will respect your decision
It's easy for folks to like you when they agree with everything you do. But if they can hate your decision, yet still respect you for it? Well done, my ethical friend, well done!
Chris Amrhein, AAI, is an insurance educator and speaker, and serves as the chief fun officer at insuranceisfun.com.
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