Abstract
This paper contributes to the development of a practice-based understanding of ethics. Ethics is here conceived as a critical practice of questioning and problematizing moral orders and moral rules-in-use in which subjects (re)define their relations to self and others. Situating this conception of ethics in the context of practice theory, we draw upon ideas of responsible decision-making (Derrida) and truth-telling (Foucault) to examine Daniel Ellsberg’s leaking of the “Pentagon Papers” as illustrative of ethics as critical practice.
Introduction
… ethics becomes then the principle of morality’s anxiety, that which unsettles it. (Gros, 2005: 532)
Moral philosophy has been mined by students of organization and management to supply the field with normative foundations for warranting judgments about the ethics of practice (e.g. Steinmann and Scherer, 2000). It has also been invoked to justify the introduction, or explication, of rules, procedures and guidelines (e.g. ethical codes) for practice (e.g. Bowie, 1999). In contrast, empirical studies have treated ethics and morality as “objective realities to be investigated” (Jackall, 2010: 2); they have focused on the institutionalization of morality in organizational practices (e.g. Jackall, 2010; Ortmann 2010) and have accounted for the “doing” of morality by organizational actors (e.g. Watson, 2003). Studies of ethics that are more critical in orientation have inter alia reflected upon how accretions of power, vested in organizational structures, rules and technologies, may establish and support moral orders that impede “ethics” (e.g. Bauman, 1991; Helin et al., 2011; Jones et al., 2005). These studies have also explored the potential of ethics to challenge “professional power” (Randall and Munro, 2002) and to “break the grip of regulation” (Iedema and Rhodes, 2010: 203) so as to transform relations of power in the context of organizational practices. Critical studies of ethics shed light upon how people exercise their freedom and “manage to define their ethical position in relation to their everyday practice” (McMurray et al., 2011: 543). This paper is intended to contribute to this emergent body of work. Drawing on the thinking of Foucault and Derrida, we commend and develop a concept of ethics as questioning and problematizing the morality vested in organizational practices, a probing that we associate with self-crafting and (trans)formative processes.
We conceive of processes of negotiating organizational moralities as situated within relations of power. The practical articulation of these processes may, we submit, effectively conflate “morality” and “ethics” – as in the case of the corporate managers studied by Jackall (2010) in Moral Mazes whose questioning activity was subordinated to figuring out how to emulate the moral compass of their bosses. Such conflation may also be challenged, as in the case which we will explore in detail in this paper: Daniel Ellsberg’s 1 leaking of the “Pentagon Papers” (hereafter Papers) to The New York Times in 1971. Ellsberg’s act of whistleblowing provided documentary confirmation of the extent of US involvement in Vietnam that had been denied by successive administrations. In revealing “ineptitude, deceit and concealment” (Bok, 1989: 205), Ellsberg’s actions became a catalyst for the accelerated ending of the Vietnam War. 2 They also contributed indirectly to the impeachment of President Nixon. Finally, Ellsberg’s whistleblowing bestowed upon him the notoriety of being the “most dangerous man of America”. 3 In this paper we revisit this well-documented case (Bok, 1989: 205–9; Karnow, 1983; Rudenstine, 1998) to illustrate and develop our conception of ethics as critical practice.
“Whistleblowing”, 4 broadly conceived of as “the process by which insiders ‘go public’ with their claims of malpractices by, or within, powerful organizations” (Perry, 1998: 235), has attracted a range of interpretations: as a heroic act of virtuous individuals (Grant, 2002; Alford, 1999, 2001); as an act assessable from the viewpoint of professional morality (e.g. Bouville, 2008); and as a fulfilment of one’s duties (Vandekerckhove & Tsahuridu, 2010). Many whistleblowing studies assume and affirm “the principled ethico-political stance of the whistleblower versus the governing realpolitik of the system; moral wo/man against immoral organization” (Perry, 1998: 236). In conceiving of whistleblowing as a practice, we do not presuppose a specific “morality” or “ethico-political stance”. Instead, we focus on the constitution and formation of ethical subjectivity in the process of questioning the dominant moral order.
Drawing mainly on material presented in Ellsberg’s Secrets: A Memoir of Vietnam and the Pentagon Papers (2003), our analysis attends to (i) the Pentagon’s organizational “morality-in-use” and (ii) the process of “self-crafting” that transformed Ellsberg from self-styled “cold-war warrior” into the “most dangerous man in America”. We necessarily rely upon Ellsberg’s recollections in this and his other writings (2004, 2010), with all that such dependence entails in terms of selective memory and the presentation of self. Autobiographical, self-reflexive accounts of this kind are, we contend, acts of self-constitution (rather than attempts to reveal a “true self”). They are confined within, as well as enabled by, a (confessional / debunking / record-straightening) discourse, and by the necessarily limited capacity of subjects to give a full account of themselves (see Butler, 2005). 5 With this in mind, we stress that our analysis is not intended to reveal the “real Ellsberg” (Small, 2003). Consistent with a focus on practices (rather than intentions), we leave behind a notion of the autonomous self that is assumed in many (e.g. humanistic) forms of analysis (see Willmott, 1998). For us, “Ellsberg” is not a unified entity to be represented but, rather, the name for a “site of a multiplicity of practices and labours” (Rabinow and Rose, 2003: xx) which invites analysis. Methodologically, our approach might best be characterized as “an exploration of philosophical issues through empirical material” (Law, 1996: 283).
The remainder of the paper is structured as follows. We first explicate our key distinction between morality and ethics before illustrating it briefly by reference to Jackall’s Moral Mazes. Next we situate our approach in the context of contributions of practice theory to analyses of organizing, and especially to the study of “ethics as practice”. We then consider central elements of the “prescriptive ensemble” (Foucault, 1986: 25) in which Ellsberg was embedded before tracing how an engagement in specific practices generates a shifting relationship of the self to the prevailing moral order(s). With regard to Ellsberg’s breaching of the rule/oath of secrecy, we explore how the constitution of ethical subjectivity (that is, the becoming of a responsible self) involves “going through the ordeal of the undecidable” (Derrida, 1992: 24) in which the ethical subject “invents” him/herself in the practice of making decisions beyond rules. Finally, we elaborate our understanding of “ethics as critical practice” by relating Ellsberg’s leaking of the Papers to parrhesia – that is, “the ethics of truth-telling as an action which is risky and free” (Foucault, 2010: 66). Overall, our purpose is to develop and promote an alternative, postfoundationalist way of conceiving of, and studying, ethics as a critical practice of questioning and problematizing moral orders and the moral rules-in-use in organizational contexts. We thereby open up an appreciation of how human beings may enact their freedom in a considered way and constitute themselves as ethical subjects in relation to organizational demands.
Morality and Ethics
The terms “morality” and “ethics” are often used interchangeably (e.g. Kelemen and Peltonen, 2001). In the post-structuralist thinking of Derrida and Foucault, which we engage to explicate our conception of ethics as critical practice, this distinction is key. Their respective positions can be traced back to radically different – or even opposed – sources: Levinas in Derrida’s case, and Nietzsche in Foucault’s case. What they share, and what we attend to here, is a refusal to identify ethics with morality or moral law (Ziarek, 2001).
Derrida invites us to understand ethics in terms of our relations to the other. In appreciating Levinas’s “anarchic responsibility [which] is based on the affirmation of the irreducible alterity and the asymmetry of the other” (Ziarek, 2001: 8), he declines to locate ethics in rules and laws or in an autonomous subject. Instead, for Derrida, ethics issues from our infinite obligation to respond to the Other. 6 To be clear, an insistence on the distinction of “morality” and “ethics” does not imply a rejection of rules and laws. But it does make possible an affirmation of the ethicality of deconstructive questioning and problematizing of the self-evident authority of institutionalized morality and “systems of regulated and coded prescriptions” (Derrida, 1992: 22), including corporate and professional “codes of ethics”. Such questioning is “ethical” insofar as it opens a space for increasing responsibility and justice in relation to the other (see Caputo, 1993; Howells, 1999; Jones, 2003; Keenan, 1997).
Central for Derrida’s conception of ethics is the understanding of “undecidability” as a condition of possibility of politics and ethics (Derrida, 1996) and the situating of decisions in the (aporetic) space between the generality of the rule, a norm or an imperative, and the singularity of the unique situation. For Derrida, ethical or responsible decisions cannot be reduced to the application of a rule, whatever its legitimacy may be. Only if a decision departs from, or dislocates, the programme, Derrida contends, is it properly a decision. “The decision must not follow, must not simply unfold the programme” (Derrida, 2000: 38).
In ‘Force of Law’ (1992), Derrida gives the example of the decision of a judge who is expected to exercise judgement, and not just apply the law. Derrida here reveals the aporetic character of (responsible) decisions. Such decisions presuppose “undecidability”, 7 otherwise there would be no decision, involving judgement, but a calculation leading to programmable and predictable results. Such decisions must refer to the (moral) law and break it in the light of the singular situation. For a decision to be “just and responsible”, Derrida writes, it must “be both regulated and without regulation: it must conserve the law and also destroy it or reinvent or suspend it enough to have to reinvent it in each case” (Derrida, 1992: 23, emphasis added). Being regulated is necessary, as without the background presence of rules and norms there would be arbitrary decisionism based on a misconceived sense of “autonomy” which consists in “giving oneself one’s law” (Derrida, 2000: 38). Finally, such responsible decisions rely on knowledge, in fact, they demand to “try and know the maximum” (2000: 40), but justice and the responsible decision cannot wait; it cannot furnish itself with infinite information. There is an aporia, which requires a “decision of urgency and precipitation, acting in the night of non-knowledge and non-rule” (Derrida, 1992: 26).
Ethics is the actualization of one’s responsibility in specific contexts under conditions of undecidablity (Clegg et al., 2007b; Weiskopf, 2004). Such responsibility emerges from answering or responding to the other and implies three modalities that are “enveloped and implied in one another” (Derrida, 1997: 250). One “answers for self” (for what one is, says, does), one “responds to the other” (that is, one responds to the question, call, request of the other) and one answers “before the other” or “before the law” (a court, a jury, an agency authorized to represent the other legitimately) (1997: 250–2, original emphasis).
Turning to Foucault, a “profound Nietzscheanism” (Deleuze, 1998; Bardon & Josserand, 2010), coupled to an abiding concern with freedom, is evident in his understanding of “morality” and “ethics”. Foucault’s Nietzscheanism is apparent in his appreciation of the historicity of normative concepts and their emergence (Entstehung) within relations of force. Indeed, Foucault was inspired by “the idea of reactivating the project of a ‘genealogy of morality’ … by tracing the lines of transformation of what one might call ‘moral technologies’” (Foucault, 1991: 74). With regard to freedom, Foucault problematizes the disciplinary technologies that inter alia make human beings “subjects”, impose normative orientations on them and bind them to constructed identities by conscience and self-knowledge (Foucault, 1977, 1982). More broadly, Foucault’s genealogical studies destabilize the “normative matrices of behaviour” (Foucault, 2010: 4) in a manner that points to a space for reconsidering and reinventing our relations to self and others. In this regard, it is relevant to note how Foucault’s entire corpus has been persuasively read as an ethical project which offers the prospect of an ethics beyond respect for the moral law (Bernauer, 1990), even though it is only in his later work that “ethics” becomes a direct focus of study, and an explicit distinction between “morality” and “ethics” is drawn (Foucault, 1986, 1997a, 1997b).
For Foucault, morality comprises a set of values and rules for action – a “prescriptive ensemble” (1986: 25) exemplified in “the moral code” (1986: 25) – that is institutionalized and transmitted within and through various “prescriptive agencies”, including organizations. This “prescriptive ensemble” conditions and frames who we are, what we can be, what we ought to be, how we should conduct our relations to ourselves and to others. Crucially, however, it cannot fully determine our mode of being or our response to institutionalised demands. There is, as those directly influenced by Foucault have argued, an “undecided space” which pre-exists and cannot be fully occupied by the “prescriptive ensemble”. This is a space “where subjects decide what beliefs to hold and what action to perform for reasons of their own” (Bevir, 1999a: 358; see also Iedema and Rhodes, 2010). This is also the space in which subjects shape and craft their relations to self and others with respect to institutionalized demands.
In this conception of the morality–ethics relationship, “ethics” is reserved for the crafting of self-relations that occurs in addressing moral demands. As a critical practice, ethics thus involves: a genealogical questioning and destabilizing of current “regimes of truth” including “the hidden normativity of seemingly neutral human science knowledge and expert practice” (Kelemen & Peltonen, 2001: 160); a problematizing of the disciplinary practices which support the sedimentation of identities (Crane et al., 2008); and an attentiveness to self-fashioning that potentially leads beyond defined identities (see also Connolly, 1993; Bernauer & Mahon, 2006; O’Leary, 2002; Ziarek, 2001). Foucault’s perennial (ethical) concern lies with the possibilities of resisting (moral) domination and thereby preserving a space for the creation of new modes of being and relating self and others (see Crane et al., 2008). Crucially, Foucault (1997a: 284) conceives of freedom as “the ontological condition of ethics”, and ethics as “the considered form that freedom takes, when informed by reflection”. The process of self-crafting is not a creatio ex-nihilo but, rather, occurs in relation to the normative framing and the associated forms of power/knowledge (see also Butler, 2005). 8
Self-crafting practices are, we suggest, commonplace, but they are rarely thematized. In Moral Mazes, Jackall (2010) observes that managers’ relationship to “moral rules-in-use” is not predetermined or involuntary, nor is it fully conscious or calculating; but it is “always complex and most often intuitive” (2010: 13). Corporate managers are shown to inhabit a “polycentric world that [they] often find troubling, ambiguous and anxiety-laden” (2010: 13). Read through the lens commended by Derrida and Foucault, as briefly outlined above and developed below, this ambiguity and anxiety is indicative of how managers wrestle with the practical impossibility of completely conflating morality and ethics. Moral Mazes also indirectly illustrates how freedom, as the ontological condition of ethics, allows, and indeed necessitates, the making of decisions. On this point, Jackall notes how, in decision-making processes, corporate managers routinely, but not slavishly or automatically, determine “whether they feel “comfortable” with proposed resolutions to specific problems” (2010: 13), and observes that they do this by making “an assessment of others’ organizational morality” (2010: 13). Through processes of “voluntary self-rationalization” (2010: 238), generally involving an identification with the prevailing organizational morality, managers are seen routinely to reproduce, rather than transgress, “relatively closed social worlds” in which alternative moralities, such as those that prevail in other (e.g. domestic) contexts, are “bracketed” (2010: 238). In Foucauldian terms, the subscription of Jackall’s managers to a corporate “regime of truth” is manifest in how their freedom is routinely harnessed to affirm, rather than problematize, “the moral rules-in-use that [they] construct to guide their behaviour at work” (2010: 2). By virtue of complying with “organizational morality”, the managers act morally by following the “moral rules-in-use”. If the above distinction between morality and ethics is applied to interpret their decision-making, then Jackall’s managers did not (necessarily) act ethically as their decisions took a “self-rationalizing” (Jackall, 2010: 238) rather than a “considered form” (Foucault, 1997a: 284). Within the framing of the morality–ethics relationship favoured here, “moral action” is consistent with unquestioning compliance with the normative demands of the moral order. “Ethical action”, in contrast, involves a “negotiation of the relationship to such requirements and restrictions” (see Bevir, 1999b: 74) in which these demands are placed in question prior to being affirmed or transgressed.
Practice, Ethics and the Moral Order of Organization
Our conception of ethics invites consideration of its relation to the tradition of “practice theory”, a tradition that, as Nicolini (in press: 1) argues, comprises “a rather broad family of theoretical approaches connected by a web of historical and conceptual similarities”. In practice theory, analyses of organizational phenomena (see Miettinen et al., 2009; Chia and Rasche, 2009), in which we include our study of Ellsberg’s whistleblowing on the Pentagon, are demarcated by their departure from approaches that “privilege individuals, (inter)actions, language, signifying systems, the life world, institutions/roles, structures, or systems in defining the social” (Schatzki, 2001: 2). In Schatzki’s influential formulation, those working in the tradition of practice theory conceive of “the social” as “a field of embodied, materially interwoven practices centrally organized around shared practical understandings” (2001: 3, emphasis added; see also Schatzki, 2002, 2005). The former – embodied and interwoven – features of practice theory are appealing to us. But, because we conceive of processes of negotiating organizational moralities as situated within relations of power, we question the assumption of consensus implied by the unqualified reference to shared understandings. Accordingly, our analysis relates, and contributes most directly, to variants of practice theory that incorporate the working of power in conceptualizing practices (e.g. Rouse, 2001; May, 2001) and are attentive to the “‘breaking’ and ‘shifting’ of structures in everyday crises of routines” (Reckwitz, 2002: 255; Moebius, 2008).
There are few studies of ethics that engage with practice theory, although they are beginning to appear (e.g. Clegg et al., 2007a; Carter et al., 2007; Crane et al., 2008; Ibarra-Colado et al., 2006; Loacker and Muhr, 2009). In an early exposition of practice theory, Reckwitz (2002) notes that, within this framing, ethics is not “a question of the just, but of the ‘good’ life as it is expressed in certain body/understanding/things complexes” (2002: 259). From the perspective of practice theory, being “ethical” is not, we submit, about compliance with moral rules but, rather, is something of a bricolage of “interwoven practices” (Schatzki, 2001: 3) in which subjects shape their relations to self, others and things (nature) (see also Schmid, 2000). Practice theory conceives of subjects as positioned and embedded in an historical field (see Schatzki, 2001) where sedimented values and normative precepts (e.g. notions of right and wrong, good and bad, etc.) foster a sense of how subjects ought to conduct their lives and relate to self and others, and so limit and enable what, as subjects, they/we can be(come). In Foucauldian terms, such values and precepts form part of what we referred to earlier as a “prescriptive ensemble” (Foucault, 1986: 25; see also Clegg et al., 2007a) that lends social relations moral weight. 9
An implication of our framing of the morality-ethics relationship is that an investigation of the elements making up the moral order – in the form of normatively sanctioned “shared practical understandings” (Schatzki, 2001: 3) that comprise “organizational morality” (Jackall, 2010) – is necessary yet insufficient, for an adequate understanding of ethics as practice. If it is accepted that such understandings have a history and that they become established, institutionalized (normalized) and reproduced within and through relations of power, then the study of ethics as practice invites critical reflection upon the role of (hegemonic) power in (re)producing such understandings. 10
Drawing upon Foucault (1991), we attend to how “regime(s) of practices” (1991: 75) are historically contingent and become infused with relations of power that routinely work (from) within practices (see also Rouse, 2001). As Foucault (1981) shows – for example, in his study of the emergence of “sexuality” – the convergence of certain practices around historically specific understandings (e.g. of sexuality) constitute “regimes of truth” which provide specific legitimate ways of seeing things and of speaking, of defining “problems” and of dealing with “problems”. Power works not simply by limiting and constraining subjects, but also, in more subtle ways, by encouraging and “inciting” specific modes of being, specific ways of seeing and specific ways of doing. Practices are not, we contend, politically innocent or neutral. As May (2001) argues, echoing Foucault, “practices, because they involve our emotions and our intellect as well as our behavior, help to guide and reinforce certain ways of seeing the world and certain values associated with those ways of seeing” (2001: 154, emphasis added). May continues: “there are certain constraints on practices that work to limit disagreement and to foster agreement” (2001: 157) – constraints that are, as we shall show, exemplified in the demands for loyalty and secrecy placed upon Pentagon staff. What Schatzki (2001) calls “shared practical understandings” are, we submit, expressive of subtle forms of power that condition agreement or disagreement and frame it in specific ways (e.g. as desirable or undesirable).
What Foucault terms “governmentality” comprises “the whole range of practices that constitute, define, organize, and instrumentalize the strategies that individuals in their freedom can use in dealing with each other” (Foucault, 1997a: 299). Yet, and to repeat, no codified morality or “system of ethics” 11 is able to provide a final or definitive set of answers to the question of how to conduct one’s life and how to relate to self, others and nature. Morality can never fully supplant or occupy the “undecided space” of ethics and so determine how subjects craft their relations to self and others. Within this space, practices that question and problematize other practices we will term “critical practices” (Messner et al., 2008). Taking a variety of different forms, they are neither inherently “good” nor “bad”. Rather, they derive their moral value from discourses in which they are embedded. Acts of whistleblowing, for example, can be framed as heroic forms of resistance to collective evil (e.g. Alford, 2001), or they can be framed as traitorous or irresponsible acts of disloyal individuals. Such practices are, we submit, of ethical as well as political significance when their effect is to challenge sedimented values and the relations of power and forms of social closure which support them.
Ethics in practice: Ethics as practical critique of moralities-in-use
Our focus upon the formation of ethical subjectivity may be mistakenly associated with a version of “virtue ethics”. In virtue ethics “the key to good lies not in rules or rights, but in the classic notion of character (honesty, fairness, compassion, and generosity)” (Knights & O’Leary, 2006: 130). In our approach, and in contrast to virtue ethics, “virtue”, or the articulation of ethical subjectivity in our terms, is neither given by specific character traits of individuals nor can “virtues” be defined independently of specific contexts and practices (Weaver, 2006). Rather, ethics as critical practice attends to how the ethical or “virtuous” individual constitutes him/herself as s/he critically relates to the morality-in-use and the norms it implies. a “Virtue” in this sense is defined relationally. It is not attributable to a set of character traits, but is “more radically, a critical relation to those norms, one which, for Foucault, takes shape as a specific stylization of morality” (Butler, 2002: 215). More precisely, in Foucault’s late lectures (2005, 2010, 2011), this “stylization” is identified as the practice of parrhesia (truth-telling) that we discuss in more detail in a later section. Likewise, Derridian/Levinasian thinking challenges the notion of the givenness of a “virtuous” or ethical subject(ivity). It attends to how ethical subjectivity is enacted and interrupted by the ethical demand of the other. Its focus is on how the embodied ethical subject “invents” him/herself as a responsible self in practices of decision-making. In questioning moral law – including corporate codes of ethics and the moral-rules in use – ethical subjectivity comes into existence in the process of responding to “the call” of multiple others (Painter-Morland, 2010). Ethical moments arise when the given, including the normative structuring of the world and one’s position in it, is turned into a question. These are moments of ethical self-formation insofar as they open up historically sedimented identities and so prompt a considered reconfiguration of one’s relations to self and others.
Ethics in practice and practice-based studies of ethics
Our approach relates most directly to (but also departs from) practice-based studies of (business) ethics which consider ethics as “the process by which accepted (and contested) models are fixed and refixed, by which morality becomes ingrained in various customary ways of doing things” (Clegg et. al., 2007a: 111). Such studies share our interest in “how ethical subjectivity is formed and contested in organizations” (2007a: 107) and “view ethics as an ongoing process of debate and contestation over moral choices” (2007a: 108). Where practice-based studies resonate more directly with our concerns, they take up the issue of how “moral questions arise in practice and have to be dealt with in practice” (Carter et al., 2007: 2, emphases omitted). Earlier we noted how managers in Jackall’s (2010) Moral Mazes dealt with such problems; and we will shortly show how Ellsberg dealt with the question of whether to blow the whistle on successive US administrations. For Carter et al. (2007), the field of practices relevant to the study of “ethics in practice” is principally, and perhaps exclusively, equated with and restricted to “ambiguous situations” where “different, often contradicting sets of moral values and rules clash” (2007: 2, emphasis added). For us, the emergence of “moral questioning” is not contingent upon the “ambiguity of situations”, or the ambiguity ascribed to particular situations, although we readily acknowledge that all “situations” are in principle contestable, and so may be rendered ambiguous. Ambiguity does not, for us, reside in particular “ambiguous situations” but, rather, is the result of socially organized practice that opens the taken-for-granted and turns “a given into a question” (Foucault, 1997c: 118). Forms of social closure through which “models [of ethical behaviour] are fixed and refixed” (Clegg et al., 2007a: 111) are, we submit, inherently vulnerable to distrust and challenge, irrespective of whether they are identified as “ambiguous”. The study of ethics as a critical practice, we contend, addresses practices that render apparently authoritative moral frameworks problematical, and so recalls how their seeming un-ambiguity rests on processes of (power-invested) social closure that conceal, rather than resolve or remove, the undecidability of moral questions (Derrida, 1996; Willmott, 1998).
Considering moralities and their breach: Ethical moments in practice
In order to explore and illustrate the ethics of practice, we consider one of the most notorious, far-reaching and well-documented cases of whistleblowing: Daniel Ellsberg’s leaking of the Pentagon Papers to The New York Times in 1971. The Papers – officially titled “United States – Vietnam Relations, 1945–1967: A Study Prepared by the Department of Defense” – comprised a 47-volume politico-military history of the US-Vietnam relationship from 1945 to 1967. It was prepared within and by the US Department of Defense under the instruction of Robert McNamara, the Secretary for Defense, for reasons that remain obscure. The Papers were top secret, and were accessible to only a tiny elite of officials and advisers within the Pentagon, who included Ellsberg (the President had no knowledge of them). Their contents revealed how successive administrations – from Truman to Johnson – had grossly and repeatedly misled both public and Congress about actions of the US in Vietnam. Amongst the more damaging revelations was evidence that the Kennedy administration had planned to topple Ngo Dinh Diem, leader of South Vietnam, before he died in a coup; that Johnson had pledged in his presidential campaign of 1964 not to widen the war but was actively planning to expand it by bombing North Vietnam; and that the US had initiated the bombing of Cambodia and Laos but had withheld knowledge of this from the media. Much of this had been suspected by critics of the Vietnam War, but such allegations were strenuously denied by successive administrations and were inadequately investigated by a “patriotic” media. Ellsberg’s leak of the Papers contributed to the termination of the Vietnam War, the end of Nixon’s presidency and the growth of a healthier scepticism with regard to claims made by US administrations. 12
We have argued that the moment of ethics arises when elements of a “prescriptive ensemble” become de-sedimented, such that “the given turns into a question” (Foucault, 1997c: 118). An example is when, years before he leaked the Papers, Ellsberg took the opportunity to attend a public lecture delivered by Kissinger.
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During time set aside for questions, Ellsberg interjected the following observation:
You have said that the White House is not a place for moral philosophizing. But in fact the White House does educate the people by everything that it does and everything that it says and does not say. Specifically, tonight you are expressing moral values when you tell us that the war is trending down and will continue to trend down, and then in that connection you mention only US troop presence and US casualties. You failed to mention Indochinese casualties, or refugees, or bombing tonnages, which in fact are trending up. By your own admission, you are telling the American people that they need not and ought not care about our impact on the Indochinese people, and you encourage them to support decisions that ignore that impact. (Ellsberg, 2003: 352–3)
Our suggestion is that this intervention exemplifies an ethical moment of practice. Ellsberg directly questions an account of the Vietnam War that had become deeply sedimented, and which was routinely mobilized and reinforced by leading spokespersons for the US government and amplified by the media. Ellsberg’s challenge to the received wisdom, we suggest, is an example of “irruptive truth-telling which creates a fracture and opens up a risk: a possibility, a field of dangers, or at any rate, an undefined eventuality” (Foucault, 2010: 63). The effect of such truth-telling is not predictable: it may transpire to be recuperative, as well as transformative. It may present an opportunity to demonize dissenters and for established practices of closure to be reaffirmed and hardened. Alternatively, such interventions may unsettle, and even break open, the hegemonic sense of closure.
On this occasion, and here we rely upon Ellsberg’s account of events, Kissinger lacked a ready response. His uncharacteristic hesitation suggests that, as a leading spokesperson of the prevailing politico-moral order, Kissinger had taken for granted the truth of a conception of the war “trending down”. This notion was simply and self-evidently equated with a reduction of US troop numbers and fewer US casualties. Before Kissinger could confect a reply, Ellsberg followed up by asking: “What is your best estimate of the number of Indochinese that we will kill …?”. Again, relying on Ellsberg’s account, these questions left Kissinger “completely stunned” (2003: 353). In Foucauldian terms, they can be interpreted as creating a “critical opening” (Butler, 2005: 24) that “calls into question the limits of established regimes of truth” (2005: 24). In such a moment, there occurs a challenge which breaches official, normalized representations (e.g. of the Vietnam War from which all mention of Indochinese casualties was routinely omitted). The challenge is, firstly, “ethical” in the sense of drawing attention to how dominant representations, such as those articulated by Kissinger, are partial and so incorporate a more or less considered (value) commitment to “this” way of ordering reality rather than to “that”. More profoundly, the intervention is “ethical” in its questioning of the very system of ordering and categorizing which underlies and produces specific normative evaluations and judgements. Such a challenge is also “political” in the sense that it articulates an alternative, counter-hegemonic practice that opens up to public scrutiny what was previously unquestioned. As we have stressed, such exchanges play out within relations of power so that their effects may be recuperative rather than transformative – for example, expressions of concern for other (e.g. Indochinese) people may be taken as an opportunity to affirm nationalism by dismissing such views, and/or their proponents, as unpatriotic.
Central Elements of the Pentagon’s Moral Order: Loyalty and Secrecy
When analysing moral orders, it is important to appreciate that rules and values are not necessarily set forth in a coherent doctrine. More often, “they form a complex interplay of elements that counterbalance and correct one another, and cancel each other out on certain points, thus providing compromises and loopholes” (Foucault, 1986: 25). While keeping this in mind, we can identify some central elements of the Pentagon’s moral order – an order that, in Ellsberg’s account of it, articulates a comparatively coherent doctrine. A central element was the demonstration of loyalty to the office of the president. The demonstration of such loyal service was accomplished through a variety of (self)disciplining practices (e.g. recruitment, selection, induction and promotion procedures) and moral technologies (e.g. oaths of secrecy and “dissimulation in the interests of discretion”; Ellsberg, 2003: 14). Loyalty was also underpinned by the prospect of severe punishment for anyone who violated it. A second and related element was secrecy which Ellsberg (2003: 268) terms “[t]he unbreakable rule of the executive branch”, adding that:
You could not have the confidence of powerful men and be trusted with their confidences if there was any prospect that you would challenge their policies in public in any forum at all … – [This] was the sacred code of the insider. (2003: 268)
Ellsberg recollects, when working as a high level advisor in the Pentagon, how he fervently believed that providing the executive, and ultimately the president, with better information about the course of the war would contribute to bringing it to an end with honour, and so safeguard the reputation and global influence of the US. As a dedicated servant of the office of the president, Ellsberg gladly “put personal loyalty to the president (and to my career, my access to inside information and influence, however I idealized my purpose) above all else” (2003: xiv), including “loyalty to the Constitution … to the truth, to fellow Americans and other human lives” (2003: xiv). Ellsberg recalls that when working as a Pentagon insider, he
… had no particular objection to this. I shared the universal ethos of the executive branch, at least of my part of it: that for the Congress, the press, and the public to know much about what the president was doing for them, with our help, was at best unnecessary and irrelevant. (2003: 43–4)
Reflecting upon the “self-discipline in sharing information – the lack of ‘need to tell’” – Ellsberg observes that his work relied upon and contributed to
an apparatus of secrecy, built on effective procedures, practices, and career incentives, that permitted the president to arrive at and execute a secret foreign policy, to a degree that went far beyond what even relatively informed outsiders, including journalists and members of Congress, could imagine (2003: 43, emphases added).
It is plausible to surmise that a comparatively coherent and totalizing “organizational morality” (Jackall, 2010; see also Willmott, 2012) was embraced, or at least studiously complied with, within the Pentagon, and that it was widely (and un-cynically) believed that making the administration’s policies known to the public was not in the national interest. “At best”, informing the public was “irrelevant”; at worst, it was considered ill-advised as it would invite “individuals and institutions to intervene in matters that were too complicated for them to understand, and to muck them up” (Ellsberg, 2003: 44). Practices of deceit and dissembling were, as a consequence, routine and normalized; and any form of dissent was equated with disloyalty. Within this moral order, it became virtually unthinkable to communicate information, or even to offer judgements or to prepare policies, that might result in a (presidential) loss of face – for example, by suggesting that the war was unwinnable, or by proposing a course of action that would likely be interpreted as a failure or defeat (see esp. 2003: 83). For the Pentagon insider who is assessed to be sufficiently honest and honorable to be trusted with state secrets, making a promise to keep those secrets becomes “virtually part of one’s core identity” (Ellsberg, 2010: 774, emphasis added). This “trust”, Ellsberg notes, “has to be “earned”, before being conferred, by a long history of secret-keeping, building habits that are hard to break, that form part of one’s character” (2010: 774). Such observations, we suggest, speak directly to the “disciplinary power of ordering, categorization and ritualization of daily activities – the regime of truth – [which] rewards conformity and penalizes resistance in order to impose and enforce norms of behavior” (Crane et al., 2008: 302).
The mundane organizational morality of the Pentagon persuaded public servants like Ellsberg that the only morally responsible, and so ethically justifiable, course of action was to engage in practices – of loyalty and secrecy – which ensured that the public would continue to be “fooled and misled” (Ellsberg, 2003: 44). Such knowing exploitation of the public’s trust indicates the depth of contempt for the citizens who, ostensibly, politicians and their advisors are elected and appointed to serve – a contempt that was consequential not least because it “made it easier to accept, to participate in, [and] to keep quiet about practices of secrecy” (2003: 44). Such practices, as Jackall (2010: 4) notes, exemplify how “people [come to] bracket, while at work, the moralities that they might hold outside the workplace”. In effect, Jackall’s managers and the Pentagon insiders described by Ellsberg disavowed the morality to which “they might adhere privately and follow[ed] instead the prevailing morality of their particular organizational situation” (2010: 4). Such disavowal is, however, precarious since morality is inescapably open to challenge and reconsideration (see Rouse, 2001: 196–7), as Ellsberg’s whistleblowing demonstrates. Its preservation depends on what Foucault terms the “mode of subjection” (Foucault, 1986: 27), that is, the way in which individuals relate to the rules and the practices which reproduce or change that relation. For Ellsberg, breaching the normative order of the Pentagon involved questioning and eventually relinquishing participation in practices that maintained significant elements of his “core identity” (Ellsberg, 2010: 774). This included the “pride and self-respect” (2010: 774) that he derived from engagement in, and reproduction of, the organizational morality of the Pentagon.
The shifting relation of self to the moral order
What informs Ellsberg’s shifting relation to the moral rules-in-use of the Pentagon is a changing relation to himself as an “ethical subject”. As the exchange with Kissinger indicates, Ellsberg became increasingly uneasy about his (retrospectively thoughtless) participation in the prosecution of policy [on Vietnam] that, as an insider, he knew “went far beyond what even relatively informed outsiders, including journalists and members of Congress, could imagine” (Ellsberg, 2003: 43). It was, we submit, Ellsberg’s serendipitous engagement in practices, such as chance contacts and meetings with anti-war campaigners, as well as planned attendance of events (e.g. the lecture given by Kissinger), that fostered a new relation to himself as a subject and to the “object” of his work. It was his engagement in, and by, these practices that enabled Ellsberg to move away from an understanding of the war as a creditable misadventure, and a related conviction that preparing reports for senior decision-makers lent assistance to bringing the war to an honourable conclusion. By participating, initially as a peripheral neophyte but progressively as a committed activist (Lave and Wenger, 1991), Ellsberg came to embrace a radically different view of the war as “unjust”, “naked of any shred of legitimacy from the beginning” (2003: 256).
What ultimately confirmed Ellsberg in this assessment of the war was a close reading of the full set of Papers, especially the early volumes. He had already read some of the Papers as a co-author who had privileged access to them. But his later (re)reading was informed by participation in practices (e.g. contacts with anti-war campaigners) that nurtured an alternative self-understanding of his relation to the war and to all those affected by it. This understanding made it possible for Ellsberg to leak the Papers as he came to believe that the “evil” of the Vietnam War (2003: 257) could only be effectively exposed, and the killing stopped, by blowing the whistle. Only their publication could supply the evidence required to expose the deception and justify the termination of the war. More specifically, only their release, Ellsberg became convinced, could provide the definitive means of counteracting the decades of propaganda and misinformation poured out by successive administrations on a trusting public. What finally convinced Ellsberg to blow the whistle was the reaction of his wife, a peace campaigner, when she read extracts of the Papers (2003: 364):
She had seen something in those pages which I hadn’t seen when I first held them in 1964–5 or even when I re-read them in McNamara’s study. She pointed out to me that passages about alternative bombing programs were filled with phrases about “a need to reach their threshold of pain” …“Fast/full squeeze” option versus “Progressive squeeze-and-talk”; the “hot-cold treatment”, our “salami slice bombing program”; “ratchet”; “one more turn of the screw”… Patricia said, “This is the language of torturers.” Her eyes were filled with tears. She said, “They have to be exposed. You’ve got to do it.”
This reframing of the contents of the Pentagon documents as gratuitously sadistic (“the language of torturers”), or at the very least incongruous in terms of the public declarations of policy and officially stated objectives, redefined Ellsberg’s relation to the moral order of the Pentagon, including the code of secrecy. As a consequence of a transformation of self (unintentionally) accomplished through participation in diverse countervailing practices, Ellsberg came to regard leaking the Papers not as an act of disloyalty, let alone treason, but as the only possible responsible act.
In the following two sections, we further explicate our understanding of “ethics as a critical practice”, and Ellsberg’s exemplification of it, by interpreting his leaking of the Papers along two analytically separable but practically intertwined dimensions. First, we consider Ellsberg’s whistleblowing as an instance of responding to the ethical demand of the Other in the practice of decision-making. Second, we consider it as an act of demanding responsibility from the power-full other in the act of “truth-telling”.
Working through Undecidability: Responsible Decision-making beyond Rules
Having sketched Ellsberg’s self-transformation through practices that led him to problematize the moral order in which he was embedded, we now draw on Derrida’s understanding of responsible (ethical) decision-making as an event that emerges in the questioning of a “system of regulated and coded prescriptions” (Derrida, 1992: 22) in the face of ethical demands of heterogeneous others (see also Painter-Morland, 2010). This enables us to expand our analysis of ethics as critical practice by attending to how ethical subjectivity is constituted (or not constituted) in taking up (or not taking up) one’s responsibilities.
Deciding responsibly
As we noted earlier, a decision, in Derrida’s sense, is where the subject constitutes or “invents” himself as a responsible self in practices of engaging with the other, rather than acting as a “calculating machine” that executes a programme by strictly following rules (Derrida, 1992: 23). Laws/rules – in Ellsberg’s case, those developed to protect state secrets and thereby preserve national security – do not speak for themselves. In common with any set of maxims, all rules and norms must be interpreted, contextualized and “be appropriable by individuals ‘in a living way’” (Butler, 2005: 5). This hermeneutic is a manifestation of the “undecided space” that is as much a condition of the possibility of ethics as a critical practice and the responsibility accompanying it.
According to Luhmann (2000), organizational “programmes of decision”, which encompass rules, regulations, procedures but also codes of ethics and moral rules-in-use – such as the “sacred code of the insider” as well as the whole “apparatus of security”, in our Pentagon example – work as “safety-nets” (2000: 145). In the absence of their deconstruction, these “safety nets” are understood by Luhmann to conceal undecidability and to (precariously) “protect” organizations from the emergence of moral questioning and thereby shield actors from the burden of (personal) responsibility. For Derrida (1992: 24), in contrast, it is only by “going through the ordeal of the undecidable” that ethics and responsibility can be actualized, even though it is impossible to know with certainty that it is achieved. As we can never know if we have discharged our responsibility, we must always doubt that our actions are “ethical”. Ellsberg’s leaking of the Pentagon Papers is an example of such a decision, or series of decisions. The effect of the leak was to interrupt the Pentagon’s programme, and so defy the “safety-net”. The interruption was not the outcome of an impulsive or capricious act. Rather, it emerged in an extended process of critical reflection – of agonizing – that involved struggling with conflicting duties and loyalties, as it seemed impossible not to betray one or more of his obligations as a civil servant, or with respect to his colleagues at Rand, other human lives, his conscience and/or what he believed the public had a right to learn (Bok, 1989: 206).
Ethics come into play as the generality of the rule is addressed in relation to (an appreciation of) the singularity of the situation where one is called to respond to the ethical demand of the other. In Ellsberg’s case, he grappled with the general rule of secrecy. This required that highly restricted papers must not to be released to unauthorized recipients, let alone leaked to the press. Initially, he accepted the denial of public access to this information as a necessary requirement of national security. Over time, however, denial of access to the story told in the Papers, with the implications of continuing destruction and loss of life that its suppression likely abetted, became intolerable to Ellsberg. He was no longer willing to be complicit in leaving the American public “in the dark” about the existence and consequences of what he had come to regard as recurrent “patterns of deceit and recklessness and cynicism” (2003: 389). Through an agonizing process of critical reflection on conflicting loyalties, Ellsberg concluded that continuing concealment of the story told by the Papers could not be justified by the oath of secrecy. Responsiveness to the “call of the other”, including the “other in me”, intruded in a manner that “generate[d] something unpredictable in a totally different context, in contexts which no one can master in advance” (Derrida, 2000: 26, 28). In this process, through which Ellsberg’s ethical subjectivity became formed in practices of relating to heterogeneous others, the question of how to fulfil his duties as a civil servant was no longer reducible to “a programmable application or unfolding of a calculable process” (Derrida, 1992: 24) as exemplified by the regulation of duties he performed as a senior policy advisor working in the Pentagon.
The primacy ascribed here to the other, including the “other in me”, does not imply that persons should simply trust their/our feelings, and so abandon their/our best efforts to make an informed decision. “For a responsibility to be a responsibility”, on this view, “you must, you should, know whatever you can know; you have to try and know the maximum, but” – and this is the crucial point – “that moment of responsibility or decision is a moment of nonknowledge, a moment beyond the programme” (Derrida, 2000: 40, 42).
Responding to the other – inventing oneself
During many significant moments of responsibility – when handing copies of the Papers to a number of politicians (e.g. Bobby Kennedy, Senator Fulbright) prior to approaching The New York Times, for example – Ellsberg could not fully calculate the consequences of his actions; and he feared that the contents of the Papers would leak out in a counterproductive manner. But, by September 1969, Ellsberg recalls how he experienced “[a] personal sense of obligation and urgency, of moral imperative, when it came to ending the war altogether, not just to avert escalation” (Ellsberg, 2003: 257). This “imperative” is not, we submit, conflatable with a pre-social “moral impulse” (Bauman, 1991) or even with Ellsberg’s investment in a normative order. It is more persuasively interpreted, we suggest, as Ellsberg’s retrospective representation of the force that Derrida calls “the other in me”, a force which prompts the “leap” required to make a (responsible) decision. It is a moment of urgency which takes Ellsberg beyond deliberations and rational calculations. “The instant of decision is a madness” says Derrida (1992: 26) with reference to Kierkegaard. With the working through of undecidability, the ostensibly good sense of dutifully following orders finally released its grip upon Ellsberg.
Moments of “undecidablity” are not adequately understood as “mere” uncertainty, indeterminacy or even ambivalence. Instead “[u]ndecidability is always a determinate oscillation between possibilities (for example of meaning, but also of acts). These possibilities are, of course, themselves conditioned, and so are highly determined in strictly defined situations” (Derrida, 1998: 148, emphasis in original). At such moments, “duty is in conflict” (Derrida, 1996: 87), and there are “no alibis, no elsewhere to which we might refer the instance of our decision” (Keenan, 1997: 1). It is in making a decision in such moments that ethical subjectivity is enacted. Understood in this way, it is not the pre-formed subject who decides but, rather, the subject who constitutes him or herself in the practice of making the decision: “the subject does not exist prior to the decision but when I decide I invent the subject” (Derrida, 1996: 84, emphasis added). Key to understanding ethics as a critical practice, and the formation of ethical subjectivity, is not the conscience or sensibility of a pre-existing autonomous subject but, rather, the practices that foster this “sensibility” in relation to the other (see also Painter-Morland, 2010). 14 It was when Ellsberg engaged in practices that opened him to “the other” (e.g. in the form of the Indochinese deaths, casualties and refugees and not just dead and injured US advisors and troops) that he became opened to the “other in me/himself”. It was then that Ellsberg was, in his own words, able to “find in oneself loyalties long unconsulted, deeper and broader than loyalty to the president: loyalties to America’s founding concepts, to our constitutional system, to countrymen, to one’s humanity” (quoted in Bok, 1989: 207), and perhaps ultimately to his relatedness to life in all its myriad and developing forms.
Intervening in Relations of Power: Truth-telling
So far, we have explored ethics as a critical practice primarily by reference to the call of the other. We now consider a second “dimension” which we associate more closely with Foucault’s thinking – that is, demanding responsibility/accountability from the power-full other. We explicate this dimension by reference to Foucault’s conception of parrhesia, 15 conceived as “the ethics of truth-telling as an action which is risky and free” (2010: 66). Foucault’s writings on parrhesia (Foucault, 2001a, 2005, 2010, 2011), we suggest, open up the possibility of situating ethics as a critical practice within specific relationships of power and regimes of truth where the “undecided space of ethics” (Iedema and Rhodes, 2010) is filled with oneself.
Riskiness and speaking in one’s own name
Parrhesia – usually translated as “fearless speech” – is not to be confused with “free speech” or with Habermasian (1981) “herrschaftsfreie Kommunikation”. It is neither free of constraints nor oriented towards consensus. The archetypical example is “[t]he parrhesiast (truth-teller) who stands up, speaks, tells the truth to a tyrant, and risks his life” (Foucault, 2010: 62). Parrhesia places subjectivity into the course of events and interrupts the reproduction of institutionalized practices: it “creates a fracture and opens up the risk: a possibility, a field of dangers, or at any rate, an undefined eventuality” (2010: 63). Parrhesia is a communicative public act. As such, the parrhesiast intervenes in the material context of power relations and demands responsibility from the powerful other as truth is spoken to power – as illustrated earlier by Ellsberg’s intervention following Kissinger’s lecture. This example also shows how, in a parrhesiastic act, the speaker “binds himself to the statement and to its content” (Foucault, 2010: 64) and, in doing so, takes on the risk of all its consequences and thus becomes responsible.
Another example of demanding accountability from the powerful is the letter sent by Ellsberg and five other Rand employees to The New York Times, an event which also occurred some years before Ellsberg leaked the Papers. The published letter communicated their view that “the United States should decide now to end its participation in the Vietnam War, completing the total withdrawal of our forces within one year at the most” (Extract from the letter, 2003: 312). In deploying their collective “power” as employees of the highly regarded Rand Corporation, as well as their “knowledge” as experts on Vietnam, the signatories to the letter stated explicitly that they were “expressing [their] views as individuals, not speaking for Rand” (Ellsberg, 2003: 312, first emphasis added). But to The New York Times and its readers, it is likely that the letter was of interest because it was written by Rand experts and not by a group of concerned individuals.
As an expression of parrhesia – identified by Foucault (2001a: 19) as “a kind of verbal activity where the speaker has a specific relation to truth through frankness, a certain relationship to his own life through danger, a certain relation to himself or other people through criticism (self-criticism or criticism of other people), and a specific relation to moral law through freedom and duty” – publication of the letter to the Times is instructive. It exemplifies the risky and dangerous practice of “telling the truth” within, and vis-à-vis, an established power-regime – in this case, the military-industrial complex in which the Pentagon is the hub. The authors of the letter expressed their personal relationship to truth as they both feared and accepted the risks to themselves and to the reputation of Rand. 16 According to Ellsberg, they regarded this truth-telling as a moral duty – as a way to help other people by calling into question the suppression of certain types of “expert” opinion that was based on personal judgement and years of professional research. What makes their “truth-telling” an act of parrhesia is not, however, whatever objective truth may be attributed to the claims made in the Times letter, nor a vague prophecy about the future of the war, nor even a general reflection about the state of affairs in the world in general. What makes it a parrhesiastic act, we contend, is the manifestation of a readiness to speak in one’s own name and take an unspecified risk by speaking out against practices which are perceived as unjustifiable, if not intolerable. 17
A critical/ethical relation to self: Self-knowledge and the other
Parrhesiastes are “those who undertake to tell the truth at an unspecified price, which may be as high as their death” (Foucault, 2010: 56). When Ellsberg blew the whistle by sending a copy of the Papers to the Times, there was minimal risk of physical death (except perhaps from an assassin), should he be identified as the perpetrator of this act of treason. But there was the prospect of symbolic death, in the form of termination of his employment as a reputable, high-ranking advisor who enjoyed a materially comfortable life but now faced the real prospect of a long-term prison sentence.
18
What, on his own account, Ellsberg feared most, and what deterred him from blowing the whistle earlier, was the prospective loss of his liberty. Other fears about loss of esteem and the likely evaporation of opportunities to apply his specialist expertise had been progressively dissolved and eventually removed as he engaged in practices that loosened their grip. As we noted earlier, the final stage of overcoming his fears occurred as he read the Papers in full – a process that “burned out of me the desire to work for presidents, to be in any sense a ‘president’s man’” (2003: 277). With this final disillusionment
… came a new freedom. I would no longer be awaiting a call from the White House or any official serving at the president’s pleasure. That was as liberating, as expanding of options of resistance, as my newfound willingness to go to prison if necessary. … I was no longer held in line by that fear. From their [the colleagues at Rand] point of view, I was about to become dangerous to know. (2003: 277–8)
What Ellsberg describes here is a form of ethical “conversion to oneself” (Gros, 2005: 546) in which a self-relation is established that allows some independence from prevailing relations of power and knowledge. Such a “relationship of self-possession and self-sovereignty” (Foucault, 2001a: 144) enables the subject to overcome fears, resist seductions and so make (different) choices among conflicting demands. Contingent on the development of critical self-knowledge, the development of such a self-relation is not to be confused with, or reduced to, a process of soul-searching resulting in the purported discovery or revelation of one’s “true” or “authentic” self. 19 Rather, it emerges from an engagement in practices in which the other, in various forms, is critically present. A critical/ethical relation of the self to the self is dependent on some other, and it unfolds in relation to others. In developing a critical self-relation, “we cannot dispense with the other” (Foucault, 2005: 398). As Foucault (1997a: 287) notes, “we are our own flatterers”, and for this reason “one needs a guide, a counsellor, a friend, someone who will be truthful to you” (2005: 398). In ethical self-formation, the other may act as a “basanos”, 20 a sort of touchstone, which recalls subjects to themselves – “a marker, or signpost – a buoy, perhaps in troubled waters – by which to get one’s bearings” (Luxon, 2008: 389). In Ellsberg’s case, it was the (critical) friendship of a number of people – Patricia Marx, who was to become his wife, but also Randy Kehler, an anti-war activist, and Janaki, a non-violent campaigner – that enabled him to develop a critical/ethical relation to the self and thereby reconstitute himself first as an employee of Rand and senior advisor in the Pentagon, and then as a citizen prepared to speak out against what he believed, or knew, to be the duplicity of the state.
The process of “conversion to oneself” is illustrated in Ellsberg’s account of an ostensibly trivial event – a minor peace demonstration – that he was extremely reluctant to join. He recalls how he felt “naked and raw” as he experienced a “process of shedding that skin” (Ellsberg, 2003: 268), a skin which had made him a recognized and respected member of the executive branch. Initially, he had felt “ridiculous” as a participant in something so insignificant as “try[ing] to change the minds of a few dozen random pedestrians by handing them leaflets”. Yet, as he distributed the leaflets, Ellsberg found his mood changing and he became “unaccountably lighthearted” (2003: 269). He recalls how “[s]omething very important had happened to me. I felt liberated … I had become free of the fear of appearing absurd, of looking foolish, of stepping out of line (2003: 269).
In organizational contexts, there are multiple sources of anxiety about “appearing absurd, of looking foolish” (2003: 269). Ethical self-formation implies an engagement with these anxieties in which there is a necessary agonism. Ethical self-formation is manifest in a readiness to “internalise the parrhesiastic struggle” (Foucault, 2001a: 133) rather than seeking comfort and reassurance in external truths and valued social identities.
Discussion
Engaging a distinction between “morality” and “ethics” has enabled us to open an analytical space in which to appreciate how subjects enact their freedom as they (we) establish a “relation to the rule and recognize [ourselves] as obliged to put it into practice” (Foucault, 1986: 27); or, indeed, to subvert it. In our reading of Ellsberg’s leaking of the Papers as an example of ethics as critical practice, we have drawn on two traditions of ethical inquiry that stress responsibility for, and to, the other (Derrida), on the one side, and freedom and self-crafting (Foucault), on the other side. These traditions, which Ziarek (2001: 6) has called respectively the “ethos of obligation” (Derrida) and “the ethos of becoming” (Foucault), are often perceived as incompatible (Caputo, 1993: 53–62; Cordner, 2008). Notably, it has been argued that a Nietzschean-inspired focus on freedom and self-crafting “puts forward the claim of freedom but cannot accommodate an obligation to the Other or respond to any external claim” (Ziarek, 2001: 7). The incompatibility argument draws support from the contrast between Foucault’s insistence on the ethical priority of the “relationship with oneself” (Foucault, 1997a: 287) and Derrida’s appreciation of Leviansian “primacy of the other” (see Smart, 1995). In our understanding, however, the concern with, and openness to, the other (responsibility) is not incompatible with the concern with self-formation and self-crafting. Instead, these are two indispensable dimensions of any critical practice. They exist in a relation of tension to each other but they are also inextricably intertwined. Understood from this perspective, social relations are sites of struggle between (i) who we are asked to be/the ethical demands of various others and (ii) who we might/want be(come) in the actualization of our freedom.
Accordingly, we conceive of the (Derridean) demand (and ethical obligation) to respond to the Other and to take up one’s responsibility, and the (Foucauldian) ethical project of actualizing one’s freedom in a considered way, to constitute a productive tension from which ethics as critical practice unfolds. In this respect, our understanding of ethics as critical practice resonates with Ziarek’s (2001) articulation of an “ethics of dissensus” which “locates responsibility in the always asymmetrical relation to the Other and redefines freedom as an engagement in the experimental praxis aiming to surpass historically sedimented identities” (2001: 219) and the power relations that support them. In our analysis of Ellsberg’s leaking of the Papers, we have stressed how a sense of urgency to enact one’s responsibility emerged from an engagement with various others that led to a questioning of institutionalized normative demands such as “loyalty” and “secrecy”. Drawing on Derrida’s concept of decision, we argued that it was in working through, rather than in circumventing, undecidabilities, and in struggling with conflicting duties, that Ellsberg (re)invented himself as a self that was no longer willing to follow orders. In responding to the “call of the other”, the “historically sedimented identity” of the self (e.g. “loyal civil servant”) is opened and reconfigured/re-enacted. When Ellsberg no longer responded to organizational demands (represented by Secretary of State McNamara) “like [to] an order from god” (Ellsberg, 2003: 69) he gradually reinvented himself in a series of decisions culminating in the leaking of the Papers. In this process, the sedimented – and highly paid and prestigious – identity of a top-level adviser in the Pentagon morphed into the more precarious and ambivalent identity of a “whistleblower” or “truthteller”.
Illustrating our argument by reference to the Ellsberg case, we have shown how ethics as a critical practice emerges within relations of power and is contingent on the development of a critical self-relation that allows the subject to resist specific normative demands and to act and intervene in power relations that are perceived as “intolerable”. In the act of telling the truth, the self is radically exposed. It implies taking a risk and becoming responsible for one’s acts and for the truths one tells (see also Butler, 2005). The (self)transformative capacity of truth-telling, to which Ellsberg (2002: xiii) refers as “the greatest change in my life”, is, as our analysis has stressed, credibly understood not as the outcome of a heroic, individualized effort of self-stylization but, rather, as a process of (transformative) self-crafting which presupposes, rather than excludes, “respond[ing] to any external claim”. Others, whether in the form of those (e.g. Kissinger) who are critically addressed, or who act as “critical friends”, contribute to the formation of a critical self-relation. As we have stressed, Ellsberg’s metamorphosis occurred through participation in a range of countervailing practices that entailed “a crafting of one’s relations to others” (Rabinow & Rose, 2003: xxi), including relations to superiors and colleagues as well as to friends and others. In considering Ellsberg’s whistleblowing as an actualization of the ethics of truth-telling – as action that is risky and free – we have emphasized how such actions are not individualized acts of self-stylization. We have also shown how such interventions are at once embedded in, and transgressive of, the material context of power relations. Parrhesiastic acts, characterized by a personal sense of moral duty, may be both personally transformative and politically subversive (see also Mansbach, 2009; Simpson, 2012).
Conclusion
Our objective has been to flesh out theoretically and demonstrate empirically a distinctive understanding of “ethics” as a practical, questioning, self-crafting activity. We have located this approach within a broad practice-theoretic tradition but without subscribing to a consensus-orientation implied by the proposition that practical understandings are shared. As practice, ethics is aptly conceived as “morality’s anxiety … that which unsettles it” (Gros, 2005: 532). Such “unsettling” of (organizational) morality is evident in practices of whistleblowing that can “pierce the background noise, perhaps false harmony, or imposed silence of ‘business as usual’” (Bok, 1989: 213–14). In doing so, a challenge is posed to prevailing power relations which have established the moral order and are sustained by it. Ethics as the enactment of an interrogatory relation to the prevailing “morality in use” interrupts “shared understandings” and involves a critical (self) questioning of what one is and what one does.
When conceiving of ethics as a critical practice, there is no concern to judge organization(s), or organizational members, from the high ground of moral theory. Nor is there any interest in developing (universal) criteria for determining whether organizational phenomena, such as (Ellsberg’s) whistleblowing, are morally correct or ethically defensible. In considering morality as contingent and power-infused practice, our “ethics as critical practice” approach does not deny the possibility, and indeed necessity, of morality and the associated exercise of (moral) judgements. What it does deny is the transcendental grounding or guarantee of such judgements. Accordingly, the approach commended here eschews the assumption of centred, “autonomous” individuals as a condition of ethics in organizations (Alford, 2001; see Knights and Willmott, 2002, for a critique). It also departs from virtue-based studies that attribute ethical acts to character strengths of particularly “virtuous” individuals, and so heroize them as “saints of a secular culture” (Grant, 2002) “who stand out from the rest of us” (2002: 398). Our approach acknowledges how disciplinary practices establish and sustain “moralities-in-use” and the modes of being that conform with their demands. But it insists that normative demands, such as the demands for loyalty and secrecy that permeated the morality of the Pentagon, can never fully determine human action and so occupy the “undecided space of ethics” (Iedema and Rhodes, 2010).
Daniel Ellsberg’s leaking of the Pentagon Papers, a case of whistleblowing that “interrupted” widely shared understandings of the operation of US democratic government, has been deployed to illustrate how the grip of institutionalized normative demands upon subjectivity may be weakened through participation in countervailing practices. To question established practices – and the norms that they articulate and reproduce – is, we have argued, to engage in ethics as a critical practice. Such questioning does not rely upon, or appeal to, some alternative standard or yardstick but, instead, manifests an “ethical sensibility” (Connolly, 1993) that is responsive to the other, and has the courage to speak out when practices are perceived as “intolerable” (Foucault, 2001b). To engage in ethics as critical practice involves acting – as Ellsberg did – as a “specific intellectual”, in Foucauldian terms. This possibility is by no means restricted to an elite cadre of “intellectuals”, as it may include the actualization of the critical attitude in various practices and professional contexts. As Foucault observes,
[w]ithin these different forms of activity, I believe it is quite possible … to do one’s job as a psychiatrist, lawyer, engineer, or technician, and to carry out in that specific area work that may properly be called intellectual, an essentially critical work. […] a work of examination that consists of suspending as far as possible the system of values to which one refers when … assessing it. In other words: What am I doing at the moment I’m doing it? (Foucault, 1988: 107; quoted in Chan, 2000: 1071, emphasis added)
Conceiving of ethics as a critical practice invites a rethinking of established, morality-centric conceptions of ethics, including much thinking about “business ethics” and “professional ethics” (e.g. of executives) (Cooper, 2012). Instead of associating ethics with compliant enactment of a particular, privileged morality, the challenge is to engage in critical work within such mundane settings. When conceived as critical practice, ethics is an ongoing agonistic 21 struggle played out in relation to established moralities embedded within relations of power and domination.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
We would like to thank the three anonymous reviewers for their constructive comments. We are particularly grateful to Carl Rhodes for his extraordinary engagement as a senior editor and to Mario Vötsch, Martin Messner (University of Innsbruck) and Todd May (Clemson University) for their helpful comments and suggestions on earlier versions of the paper.
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
Notes
Author biographies
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