Let’s Talk About Life and Death

Woody Allen famously said: “I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens.” In that vein, research has revealed how concerns about mortality influence many types of human beliefs and behaviour: bad things like prejudice, intergroup conflict, terror and aggression; as well as largely good things like achievement, risk-taking, art and creativity.

What, you may ask, are we to make of it all in these times where we are surrounded by death; but nobody wants to broach the subject beyond sterile statistics? In his seminal work The Denial of Death, which was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for General Non-Fiction, anthropologist Ernest Becker introduced the premise that human civilization is a defence mechanism against the knowledge that we will die.

Becker argues that humans live in both a physical world of objects and a symbolic world of meaning. The symbolic part of human life engages in what he calls an “immortality project.” People try to create, or become part of, something which they believe will last forever ― art, music, literature, religion, nation-states, social and political movements etc. Such connections, we believe, give our lives meaning.

This is also Viktor Frankl’s claim in Man’s Search for Meaning, that mental anguish most often results from a lack of meaning. Thus, we had to justify ourselves from within ourselves. We tried to replace vital awe and wonder with a how-to-do-it manual; but it literally split us in two. So, we have an awareness of our own splendid uniqueness, and yet we go back into the ground to disappear forever. It is a terrifying dilemma to be in; and to have to live with.

Moreover, Becker believed that our particular immortality projects are so important to us, that we can’t tolerate others suggesting that our beliefs are misguided. As he put it: “Modern (hu)man became psychological because (s)he became isolated from protective collective ideologies.”

Therefore, people deal with death by upholding worldviews that are larger and longer-lasting than themselves; and opposing anyone or anything that violates these ‘cultural anxiety-buffers’. Basically, the idea goes: the fear of death drives people to maintain faith in their own culture's beliefs and to follow paths to an enduring significance that will outlast their own physical death, often to the detriment of others who block their pursuit of these goals.

Thus, part of the human condition is living with a desire to continue to live plus an inherent fear of death on the one hand; and, on the other, the knowledge that this desire will inevitably be thwarted and that what is feared will inevitably occur. That creates an ever-present potential to experience the terror of no longer existing.

Our understanding of the complexity of the problem doesn’t end there though. Studies on how we cope with the inevitability of death i.e. terror management, have a fundamental flaw ― they lack a control group. It's impossible to test if (or how) a person changes their beliefs or behaviour when reminded of their mortality, because our awareness of this human condition never ceases.

As this awareness of mortality dawned on our ancestors, they were drawn to belief systems that helped them continue to function with equanimity. These worldviews virtually always included the idea of a literal afterlife for some aspect of oneself ― a soul ― but also included modes of transcending death via heroic deeds, great achievements, memorials and heirs.

Conversely, when modern people consciously think about death, they either act proactively to forestall it ― eat healthily, drink more water, exercise ― or rationalize why it won't be a problem for a while ― by quitting smoking, drinking and drugging soon ― or just try to distract themselves by turning on the TV, calling a friend or surfing the Internet. The goal is just to get those thoughts out of their own consciousness.

Also, when death is close to mind, people become more adamant in their beliefs and get extra-motivated to distance themselves from their physicality and to assert their symbolic value ― their intellect, achievements and so forth. They show off their skills, smarts, fitness and generosity. And these conscious ― proactive or evasive ― defences are only likely to be activated by consciously thinking about our own deaths.

However, knowing we're all vulnerable creatures, clinging to fragile beliefs to handle the existential predicament inherent in being human, helps us to become more compassionate people. It helps us to realize that, no matter how absurd someone else's beliefs seem, ours are likely no less absurd. And if such beliefs are helping that person function with equanimity, and not leading them to harm others, we should respect them.

Hannah Arendt once wrote that in times of deep crisis “we have a right to expect illumination”. It seems callous to suggest that the COVID-19 pandemic is letting the light in, and daft to offer immediate consolations amid so much grief. But there is a sense that, with the world having ground to a halt, our fantasies are finally taking flight and relieving us of some illusions at least.

Much of what we have always been told was impossible is actually happening: the homeless are (in some places) being housed in hotels while prisoners are (in others) being released. Kids are told not to go to school and to forget exams. Masses of migrants and asylum seekers have been ‘regularized’ and given full rights. It’s not quite a revolution, but it’s an epic conceptual awakening.

It also feels, paradoxically, as if the world has come right in some way. With our human death cult suddenly stopped, wildlife is returning with innocent ebullience. Bottlenose dolphins are playfully leaping in the waters around ports. Hares graze undisturbed in parks. Antelope stroll golf courses and paddle along sandy beaches, while birds have been nesting in the crooks of disused wing-mirrors on cars.

In some ways it’s like a blissed-out New Ager’s dream of what the world might be. The penny has also dropped that wellbeing isn’t individual, but social. We are not actually independent at all, but dependent. We can make each other sick; and we can try to make each other well. We’ve understood that a healthy community isn’t merely human; but includes its soil, its water, its air. It’s literally a matter of life and death.

In addition, the lockdown has made everything local. We’re rediscovering neighbours, the wisdom of close relationship is returning. We’re rediscovering that frugality and resourcefulness are creative, if not always comfortable. That grounding ourselves is both mental as well as physical. We made ourselves frenetically busy before to keep from reflecting; but now that we’re still our demons, voices and shame can quickly surface.

It’s showing us where our work remains. As we’re all pondering self-preservation, it’s inevitable that we’re wondering what has been eating us up all this time. While money is nice, caring about what we do with our lives is better, as true wealth is about experience. Still, we’ve been engaging in a consumptive gorging and purging that has left us weak and guilty.

Materialism has unleashed a life of invidious comparison, because physical worth is the only thing we give ourselves. Larger paycheques, bigger homes, flashier cars, cosmetic surgery. The list goes on. And so, we die when our little symbols of material specialness die. We built societies as hero systems which promised victory over evil and death; but these immortality projects are having the inverse effect of hastening our demise.

Let’s be realistic though. When you die, you’ll be forgotten. Perhaps your family, friends and the people you love may remember you. But your ideas? They’ll be gone. When you die, you as a concept, will also die. But no matter how bad you think life is, no matter how many mistakes you made throughout your lifetime, people forget. They do. Amazingly, we’re free to make mistakes that will be forgotten. And, maybe, that’s what it really means to be human.

Nevertheless, when it comes to immortality our reach inevitably continues to exceed our grasp. We discover that, improving our lives hinges not on our ability to turn lemons into lemonade, but on learning to stomach lemons better. Once we embrace our fears, faults and uncertainties we begin to find our courage, perseverance, honesty, responsibility and curiosity ― and the forgiveness we all long for.

However, that’s just one part of our story. The enduring human spirit is an extraordinary phenomenon of nature. Even though heroism, for most of us, is subtle and quiet; about restraint, retreat, solitude and stillness. Our human quest is possibly even harder; to discern the common good and to look for awakening and awareness in the time we have to conduct this life. By understanding, and accepting death, we can finally free ourselves to live meaningfully.

Nhora, Jubilee and the Concept of Debt

The streets are empty, all but the essential businesses are shuttered. Schools and universities are closed till further notice. Transportation has slowed to a trickle; and commercial supply chains have all but ground to a halt. Humanity is huddled in isolated shelter, hoping it will all be over soon. But, the losses are mounting on all fronts. Expecting a return to business-as-usual is predictable, albeit naïve.

The overhang of debt building up due to the COVID-19 crisis will make eventual recovery particularly tenuous. Some analysts believe we’re already into a global depression; but obviously in denial about it. That then begs the question, “What is debt really… beyond an asset class for lenders, and a liability for borrowers?” To unpack debt requires looking at what underpins ‘ownership’; and that’s primarily our attitude towards property, specifically land.

“Land… they don’t make the stuff anymore” goes the expression. Yet, we unquestioningly assume our existence based on it. The question parents dread to hear is when their children want to know who made the world. Whether the response is God, the Universe, physics or Douglas Adams’ algorithmically endowed mice; the inescapable fact is that humans can’t really own the planet, because we didn’t make it. Not according to current convention anyway.   

The rather difficult metaphysical problem of celestial accretion aside, we should be able to at least agree that, until we come across the original owner of Earth in person, the planet is a ‘loaner’ for now. And that goes for everything it produces at no cost. It also assumes that we will be able to afford the asking price, if in fact it’s even for sale. How bereft of philosophical heft our economic practice appears, when applied at this level. 

So, what on earth do land, ownership and debt still mean? Well, if you’re a descendant of First Nation peoples, the former is primary; but the latter are superfluous. You’ll have no concept of dominion over nature. Your language won’t even have possessive pronouns. As such, the Kalahari San concept of Nhora, the proto-custodianship model for all societies over the last 200,000 years, provides many of the ethical ideas we should practice today. 

Each tiny clan of San hunter-gatherers take care of a nhoresi, a defined piece of ancestral land, on behalf of the Sky God; with the understanding that it cannot be ‘owned’, but is held in ‘trust’ by its custodians for the benefit of the clan and any people who may traverse it. Ergo, hereditary custodial rights rather than modern property ownership, which the San never knew, nor debt till settlers introduced it.  

By contrast, until 600 BCE, in the biblical practice of jubilee the Israelites rested from their labour and allowed the land to rest (among other things). As the sabbatical years occurred every seven years jubilee was then celebrated at the end of seven cycles of sabbatical years - the 50th year (or 49th, as some argue). It was really a semi-centennial national expiration of land leases. 

Thus, biblical jubilee did not involve the forgiveness of debt, but the celebration of a debt paid by leasing the land and recouping its crop potential; therefore, there was no redistribution of wealth. If there were bountiful harvests each year, then the profit remained in the hands of the one who had leased the land.  

But, since God owned the land according to the Bible, he gave the Promised Land to the tribes of Israel with the condition that private property cannot be sold, squandered or given away permanently. If a lender leased the best land available and diligently worked to make it productive, they could accumulate significant assets prior to each jubilee. That would allow them, over time, to accumulate effective control over land without actual ownership.

This was all good and well for a while, but there were some structural problems. What then spelled the end for the jubilee concept? For one thing, the shares of land were unequal to begin with. The Levites got no land; first-born sons received twice the land given to the other sons; daughters neither owned nor inherited anything; and non-Israelites had no share in the land at all.

So, while the jubilee law did prevent all the land from being owned by a few families, it did not prevent some from becoming much wealthier than others. Although jubilee set limits on the rich getting richer, and the poor getting poorer, with regard to the permanent acquisition of land; it did not necessarily prevent income inequality. 

Furthermore, the people whom the biblical jubilee helped were not the poor, but the families of original affluence. The jubilee guaranteed that they endured in their landed affluence regardless of whether they wanted, or deserved, it. What the jubilee did was to periodically restore property and power to the old families, the true Israelites.

Fast forward to today and the modern Debt Jubilee Movement has dropped the original biblical context; but is making political, economic and moral arguments for extinguishing all, or some, of the debt the world is drowning in. Specifically demanding that dishonourable debt should not be honoured. Case in point being South Africa still labouring under the apartheid regime’s debt. Of course, there are many other examples of dishonourable debt throughout history. As the global financial system staggers from crisis to crisis, the biblical writing is on the wall. 

So, is a debt jubilee the answer to our woes - a providential gift, so to speak? From an economic perspective, the answer is likely to be no - at least for a full version of it. However, there might be an argument for targeted debt forgiveness; or at least lenient and well-ordered bankruptcies containing forgiveness in especially acute cases.

The experience of developing country debt forgiveness suggests that forgiveness did have the desired effect of freeing up resources, which could then go to more pressing development needs. However, some resources thus freed up got wasted anyway; and an argument was also made that forgiving loans frittered away by governments merely encourages such recklessness in the future. This certainly could be a risk for a modern debt jubilee.

Nevertheless, a debt jubilee is said to be more ethical or moral than current arrangements. Which may very well be true, although not necessarily in step with current economic theory. That said, the custodianship-versus-ownership debate is making a major comeback. Our planetary convulsions of natural disasters, pandemics, military conflicts and policy failures sweep across the land; and stand in stark contrast to the image we have of ourselves as a species. 

With so many entrenched interests at risk, including life itself, our modern assumptions are being tested as never before. As we reflect, in our isolation, on the complexity of the society we’ve created; we’re confronted with the unavoidable reality that cleverness bears little resemblance to wisdom. In a sense, it’s back to the future for us. To rediscover our egalitarian roots, to be fraternal. To find courage in our vulnerability. To flourish, not just survive. 

The digitization and atomization of society, that’s accelerating, will continue to disrupt our lives. We probably need a Google Doc for all of civilization now, to continuously update all the learnings taking place at massively accelerated clock speed. We certainly don’t want to be the people who make humanity’s last stand. Fortunately, almost every problem becomes easier when we think really long term. Seven generations according to First Nation wisdom.

How Do You Feel About Death By Climate Change?

As we become sensitized to the increased frequency and intensity of major storms, droughts and wildfires there’s a feeling of impending doom building up. The awesome power of nature has never been more evident. What’s even more disturbing is that human beings are the catalyst, the cause of it all.

True to type, our default responses are fight, flight or freeze. These primal survival instincts cause us to variously cycle through being angry and looking to blame, feeling sad and succumbing to helplessness and despair; or withdrawing by going into outright denial.

Cape Town’s recent Day Zero crisis put a human face on what seems a distant threat; as does the current drought in the Northern Cape, as well as the KZN coastal plain storms and flooding. It’s common cause that the impacts of climate change compound the multiple social stressors that already beset the populace; and heightens pre-existing vulnerabilities (Chersich, 2018).

However, terms such as ‘climate change’ and ‘global warming’ draw attention to the global scale, rather than the personal impacts. As climate change irrevocably changes people’s lived landscapes, large numbers are likely to experience a feeling that they are losing a place that is important to them - a phenomenon called solastalgia, which is especially prevalent amongst migrants from climate disasters.

Hence, we can argue that ecological grief is a legitimate response to ecological loss. Such grief inevitably manifests in further emotional distress. The World Health Organization estimates that by 2030 depression will become our most burdensome illness; more than cancer, diabetes and respiratory diseases combined.

Estimates are that as many as 25.6% of South African employees will be diagnosed with depression over their course of employment. Only 15% to 25% will seek and receive help. Furthermore, Alexander Forbes Health Management Solutions suggests that 35% of all temporary-incapacity leave applications, from their sample of corporate clients, are due to mental and behavioural issues.

Our government spends only 5% of the health budget on mental health - but mental health costs to the economy are up to six times the cost of its treatment. Loss of earnings from depression is estimated at ZAR54,121 per adult per year; a total of R40 billion (or 2.2%) of the country’s gross domestic product.

Clearly the cost of climate change to business, as the largest employer, has become an existential threat. The risks are not just quantitative in the material sense; but also qualitative in the human context. People are still the largest expense, and therefore exposure, to any organization.

By extension, we are now collectively facing the reality that remedial action alone is no longer enough. Climate change is not going away, and will intensify. With South Africa warming at twice the global average, we have no choice but to respond pro-actively to protect our biggest resource... people.

As employers have traditionally made human capital investments in their employees for the purposes of personal effectiveness and productivity, additional support is now required concerning the impact of climate change; but also to leverage the climate adaptation opportunities that a ‘green’ economy will inevitably bring, such as the innovation horsepower amongst sustainability-savvy Millennials.

What does this all mean? Climate change is still a relatively unknown subject for most executives, let alone managers and staff. Like most organizational change it begins with education. Progressive firms will have planned and communicated quantitative strategies by now; such as securing material operational means.

The concern is that hardly any attention is being paid to the qualitative side of the problem. Most HR departments do not have a strategy to cope with the increasing impacts of climate change, let alone a policy or budget for applying resources on a proactive basis. Responses are, for the most part, reactive.

What it reflects back at us are known as the psychological barriers to climate change such as: (1) ignorance of the problem; (2) undervaluing of distant or future risks; (3) rationalizations for a variety of deviant behaviors; (4) depending on technosalvation through mechanical innovation; (5) fear of being victimized by free-riders; (6) exposure to sunk costs and stranded assets; (7) mistrust, discredence and inaction.

While the above is not a definitive list of barriers, they do begin to explain why qualitative adaptation to climate change is such a difficult problem. The human brain has not evolved much in thousands of years. At the time it reached its current physical development our ancestors were mainly concerned with their immediate band, immediate dangers, exploitable resources and the present time. Sound familiar?

None of those are naturally consistent with being concerned, in the 21st century, about global climate change; which is relatively slow, usually distant and mostly unrelated to the present welfare of ourselves and our significant others. Obviously, our ancient brain is capable of dealing with global climate change, but doing so does not come easily.

So, what are we to do? For a start, we should pay attention to what two important groups are saying, namely: Indigenous people, who stand in an unbroken 200,000 year old line of planetary custodians; and Millennials, who will inherit the climate change problem and implement solutions which suit them.

Following that, we need to raise awareness in a hurry. We cannot fix a problem unless we acknowledge it. This means sector and organization-wide climate education interventions. Climate change will eventually affect every human being on the planet, therefore all people need to be informed as a matter of urgency.

It stands to reason that THE global issue demands a global response; and devolves down to the regional, national and local level. In short, all hands are required on deck. By implication this bottom-up approach will also invert traditional hierarchies and power structures. Yet another adaptive lesson in the process.

Whenever civilization has had its back to the wall in the past, it has tended to reach back into its history for solutions. It’s likely that the core values of Indigenous Knowledge System will be foregrounded once more; such as reciprocity, humility, even-temperedness, generosity, conviviality and a deep respect for nature.

First Nation peoples prevent lying by being transparent; prevent theft by sharing what they have; prevent conflict by being inter-dependent; and prevent competition by sharing all knowledge. They identify with open-endedness and aligning with the cycles of nature; modeling flexibility, adaptability, diversity, fluidity and tolerance for ambiguity. It’s a pretty good strategy for building climate resilience.

Of course, we are a Westernized society today; replete with the conditioning and advantages that brings. The blended learning that’s going to be required for qualitative climate change adaptation, will also need to incorporate a deeper understanding of ethics to promote critical thinking.

In the final analysis, climate change is fundamentally a behavioural problem.

Why Ethics Can Save Us

“It’s probably fair to say that the #1 constraint in South Africa today is [its] trust deficit” according to Patrick Kuwana. “We all know the economy is running on a huge trust deficit; as every new corruption disclosure affirms.” Hardly new information; but, business is foremost a relational discipline. If there is no trust, no transactional activity takes place.

Should we be surprised though? The Art of War, by Sun Tzu, is prescribed reading in many business schools around the world. This gives executives, licence to equate doing business with making war. Just as political correctness does not allow us to say ‘greed’ out loud (a la Gordon Gekko); we can, and do, insist on our pound of flesh in business.

Companies squeeze suppliers, sweat assets, pass costs on to customers and use aggressive sales tactics. Downsizing is a mantra; but we call it re-engineering, rationalisation or right-sizing. Reducing headcount sounds much better than putting human beings out of work.

Well, say the old hands, just get some strategy consultants to draw up a set of values that can be posted on the walls. Ask them to include the usual suspects - integrity, fairness, honesty, excellence, passion. After all, employees either have ethics or they do not, and that there is little that one can do about it. Ethics can’t be taught, right? Think again.

Cue Warren Buffett, who famously said that one should look for three things in a person: intelligence, energy and integrity. He then added: “But if they don't have the last one, don't even bother with the first two.” Pretty good advice, whatever your opinion of Warren Buffett may be. Let’s get some of that ‘integrity’ in and we’re good, right?

Not so fast. Within national government just 14% of chief audit executives say ethics is an important part of their organisational culture, compared to 41% last year, the latest Corporate Governance Index has found. And, how many South African institutions have blinded themselves to their own ideals? How often has the-ends-justifies-the-means principle been used to explain away acts of corruption, brutality and social cruelty?

Acquiring trust capital predictably involves some hard yards. Significantly, the 2020 Edelman Trust Barometer states that ethics accounts for 76% of trust capital; while competence delivers 24%. It’s precisely in this way that we are linked to each other’s survival. To be unreasonable in ways that hurt, or hinder, others is to reduce the value of all.

Psychopaths may simply be unable to obtain as much happiness through caring about others as they obtain by antisocial acts. Other people find collecting coins an entirely adequate way of giving purpose to their lives. There is nothing irrational about that; but others become more aware of their situation in the world and more reflective about their purposes. To this third group the ethical point of view offers a meaning and purpose in life.

For a start, applying ethics is really about thinking oneself through the ‘grey’ tunnel that connects ‘black’ and ‘white’. It attempts to reconcile legal absolutes and moral relativity. Ethics are, both, a compliment and combatant to societal and organizational norms. They keep us accountable to our own rules.

Alas, the rules keep changing. Not because of social evolution, but because of self-interest. Some believe we can never get people to act morally by providing reasons of self-interest; because if they accept what we say, and act on the reasons given, they will only be acting self-interestedly, not morally.

For example, “Is ignoring corruption the moral equivalent of murder?” It rests on the twin concepts of ‘killing’ and ‘allowing to die’. We cannot avoid concluding that corruption in developing countries leads to poverty, malnutrition and death for many. Absurd? Not really. The duty to avoid killing is much easier to discharge than the duty to save. Therefore it seems easier to ignore corruption, than to confront it. Seemingly, to do nothing trumps taking risk.

Moreover, bleeding the systems is much easier under the delusion of ‘victimless crime’. Suppose I continue to amass wealth corruptly. My actions may have no identifiable victims. But, some people will die. It is impossible to tell how many. Surely this impossibility makes my decision no less reprehensible than it would have been had I shot them? So, if we can prevent something bad - without sacrificing something of comparable moral value - we ought to do it.

That should draw a line under the whole ethics ‘thing’ then. Apparently not. With the recent rise of ESG (Environmental, Social & Governance) issues, business ethics face a curious irony: the more entrenched the discipline becomes in business schools, the more bewildering - and off-putting - it appears to actual managers.

Managers welcome concrete assistance with primarily two kinds of ethical challenges: first, identifying ethical courses of action in grey-area situations described as ‘not issues of right versus wrong’, but ‘conflicts of right versus right’; and, second, navigating those situations where the right course is clear, but real-world competitive and institutional pressures lead even well-intentioned managers astray.

Let’s look at Affirmative Action (AA) for instance; a strategy to achieve equality in the workplace through the BBBEE and Employment Equity Acts, given that less than 300,000 people in South Africa pay 40% of the country’s tax bill. In practise this means that not enough people earn enough money to pay tax; and such inequality is unacceptable.

One way of overcoming this is to go beyond equality of opportunity and give preferential treatment to members of previously disadvantaged groups. This is sometimes also called 'reverse discrimination'. It may be the best hope of reducing long-standing inequalities; yet it appears to offend against equality itself. Hence it is controversial.

So, if an organization should adopt new goals and use AA to promote them, employees who would have been hired under the old procedure cannot claim that the new procedure violates their right to be hired, or treats them with less respect than others. They simply were the fortunate beneficiaries of the old policy. Now that this policy has changed others benefit, not they. If this seems unfair, it is only because they had become used to the old policy.

AA cannot justifiably be condemned on the grounds that it violates the rights of previously advantaged employees, or treats them with less than equal consideration than others. There is no inherent right to employment, and equal consideration of the interests of applicants is not involved in hiring. Thus, AA isn’t contrary to any sound principle of equality.

That said, the really creative part of business ethics is discovering ways to do what is morally right and socially responsible; without ruining your career and company. In practice, ethics rests on reciprocity. It is unfair to require an individual to take a significant risk (or incur a significant cost) out of respect for the interests, or moral rights, of others; if that individual has no reasonable grounds for trusting that the relevant others will do the same.

Thus, the central role of such social contracts is in devising ‘minimalist’ - as opposed to ‘perfectionist’ - views of the moral expectations that can be placed legitimately on companies; and then to evaluate them against certain universal, but minimalist, moral principles. The old chestnut of doing the ‘right thing’, versus doing ‘things right’.

Whatever the point of departure, current consensus holds that business ethics is not a matter of concern for managers alone. It is everyone’s responsibility. A covenantal ethic, defines, as everyone’s primary obligation, the effort to see that all parties in a commercial endeavour prosper on the basis of created and shared value.

Moderation, pragmatism, minimalism: these are key words for business ethicists. In each of these approaches, what is important is not so much the practical analyses offered; but the commitment to converse with real managers in a language relevant to the world they inhabit, and about the problems they face.

Some business ethicists, however, have two basic problems with enlightened self-interest. First, they disagree that ethical behavior is always in a company’s best interest, however enlightened. Second, they object that even when ‘doing good’ is in the company’s best interest, acts motivated by such self-interest really can’t be ethical.

Well, ethics is not an ideal system that is noble in theory, but no good in practice. The reverse of this is closer to the truth: an ethical judgment that is no good in practice must suffer from a theoretical defect as well, for the whole point of ethical judgments is to guide ethical practice.

Some people think that ethics is inapplicable to the real world because they regard it as a system of short and simple rules like 'Do not lie', 'Do not steal', and 'Do not kill'. They believe ethics isn’t suited to life's complexities. That there are no vanilla options; and behaving ethically can cost dearly. Put simply, ethics has to ‘hurt’ for it to be meaningful.

In support of this view Garrett Hardin has offered a metaphor: we are like the occupants of a crowded lifeboat adrift in a sea full of drowning people. If we try to save the drowning by bringing them aboard, our boat will be overloaded and we shall all drown. Since it is better that some survive than none, we should leave the others to drown. In the world today, according to Hardin, ‘lifeboat ethics’ apply.

Beware hubristic whispering and the assertion of principles that functions as a mask for personal preference. Rather insist on the vital distinction between morality and moralism; and moral judgments in lieu of causal understanding. The only real doubt is whether ethics will work at scale across our society; particularly in the critical institutions of learning, legislation and business. In the absence of more promising alternatives it seems worth a try.

Circling back to the proposition of ‘why ethics can save us’; we should conclude with one last open-ended question. “Why should I act morally?” is a question that asks for reasons to go beyond the personal basis of action; and acting only on judgments one is prepared to prescribe universally.

The ethical point of view does, as we have seen, require us to go beyond a personal point of view to the standpoint of an impartial spectator. Thus looking at things ethically is a way of transcending our inward-looking concerns and identifying ourselves with the most objective point of view possible. From the evolutionary perspective we need to leverage our endowed ability for critical reasoning; and to do so at scale. Ergo, ethics is a life skill for everyone.