“I see us free, therefore, to return to some of the most sure and certain principles of religion and traditional virtue—that avarice is a vice, that the exaction of usury is a misdemeanor, and the love of money is detestable, that those walk most truly in the paths of virtue and sane wisdom who take least thought for the morrow.
We shall once more value ends above means and prefer the good to the useful. We shall honor those who teach us how to pluck the hour and the day virtuously and well, the delightful people who are capable of taking direct enjoyment in things, the lilies of the field who toil not, neither do they spin.”
(Keynes, 1963, pp. 371-372)
Keynes is a great economist. And he is a great writer to boot. His writings certainly belong to the sources that have inspired me in the current inquiry.
He has led me to think about economics as a moral science, as a science that studies the realization of values. In the citation above, he appeals to “the most sure and certain principles of religion and traditional virtue” and longs for the day that we will “value ends over means.” More than 60 years later the time has arrived to focus on the ends, or the goods that we are seeking.
In the preceding chapters we have already taken big steps in the right direction. The first step was to recognize that culture, or the content, is what our lives, organizations and societies are about. Income, production, wealth, profits and commodities are all instrumental. Culture is about values. We con-cluded, therefore that our actions and those of the organization and societies of which we are a part, are all about the realization of values.
In order to make values real we buy, receive or contribute to goods of all kinds. So we are privy to “conversations”, “relationships,” “public spaces,”
“knowledge of all kinds,” “arts of all sorts” and a wide range of commodities.
The questions that we must now face are: “what are all these goods good for
in the end?” and “what purpose or end do they serve?”
The questions address the claim of Aristotle that all our activities are directed at a particular good (see chapter 1). In the current instrumental-ist mindset, the knee jerk reaction to the question is that the good to which Aristotle is referring is subjective and impossible to define. How could we possibly know? What you are striving for is your thing. I have my thing. End of discussion.
In the instrumentalist mode, this conclusion would justify the focus on the means, like economic growth, profit and such. I am not sure where the post-modernist conclusion takes us, other than to the realization that everything is complex. I propose instead that we take on the challenge to explore the goods that people strive for in order to be concrete and articulate what they might mean. It cannot be done, you say? Let’s find out, shall we?
Aristotle takes us beyond the Maslow pyramid
The exploration starts with the presumption that some values are more impor-tant than others and that some goods or practices are worth more than others.
Values and goods have a hierarchy.
One good leads to another, one good serves another. Money is good for all kinds of things, things like a car or a yacht. A car is good for all kinds of things, and so is a yacht. When a car or a yacht is good for impressing peo-ple than that must be good for something else, like self-esteem. Self-esteem is more important than the recognition of other people. It is a higher value.
The question then is whether self-esteem is needed to realize an even higher or more important value.
Most goods and values are instrumental in the sense that their realization serves other goods and values. We want to be honest, courageous and loving as a means to some end. We acquire food, a house or a theatre ticket for other purposes than for the possession of such goods. We own a house in order to be able to create a home. The house is an instrument for the attainment of our goal, i.e. a (good) home. But the home in turn may be good for something else, like love and care. The food is good for a family dinner and a ticket is good for access and for a special experience. Aristotle suggests that we look for, or be conscious of, the ulterior purpose of whatever we do.
When I discuss these issues in seminars or lectures, it is inevitable that people associate what I am explaining with the Maslow pyramid. It is the hierarchy that they are reminded of. However, Maslow evokes a hierarchy of needs, not a hierarchy of values (Maslow, 1954). Starting at the founda-tion with basic needs such as food and shelter, we move up the pyramid by way of the needs for safety, social needs, the personal need of self-esteem to the ultimate need of self-actualization. The pyramid suggests that self-actual-ization is the ultimate. This framing must have had a great influence—I can
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only dream of having the impact that Maslow has had. Even students are influenced by it, so I learn in my classes. That is to say, they refer to Maslow.
Whether they apply it in their daily lives, is another matter. I usually try to unsettle them with a few questions.
My questions are: “what does self-actualization mean?” and “When do I actualize myself ?” The questions usually do not get any kind of answer.
The discussion ends here. Self-actualization it is. But is it? If self-actual-ization implies the realself-actual-ization of some values or goods, surely we need to know those values and goods in order to be able to identify the possibility of self-actualization.
The same follow up question can be posed when people proclaim that they are seeking “authenticity,” “personal growth,” “utility” or “happiness”
when asked about their goals in life. Even though those terms tend to make an impression on audiences, they are empty terms. They do not tell us for what goods or values they stand. An Adolf Hitler may have been authentic and happy; he may have actualized himself and may have experienced per-sonal growth, but I doubt that people have a life like his in mind when they use these terms.
Aristotle presents a so-called teleological perspective on human action.
We humans do things with a telos, or purpose. Whether we are chatting away, meandering, goofing off or playing a game, there is some purpose lurking somewhere. Maybe we are seeking company, or relaxing in order to gather the courage to begin an important task. Or perhaps we are engaged in a practice that is important to us in and of itself. The telos is the answer to the repeated question “what is it (the practice, action or good) good for?” The final answer is an expression of the ultimate meaning of actions and of lives.
The instrumentalist thinkers pur sang, standard economists, point at util-ity and welfare as the purposes of what we do. So apparently we as consumers are seeking the maximization of utility, or happiness, for that is considered to be a synonym. However, “utility” is an abstract notion with no content. If we answer the probing question each time with: “it adds to my total utility,” then the answer becomes meaningless. Even if we add the notion of happiness, we do not say a great deal more. Am I going to a Shakespeare play because that adds to my utility and makes me a little happier? I have actually no idea myself if it will make me happier. Maybe I will be disappointed. Maybe Shakespeare will depress me with his somber message.
No, I rather think that I go because of values that I hold. To make those values real, I need to bring about goods, as we saw in the previous chap-ter. Some goods mean more to me than others. So you see me going to a Shakespeare play one evening rather than hanging out at home or working on this book. In that way, I make an effort to realize qualities that are important to me.
The same problem arises with “welfare” as a purpose. If it is the outcome of adding up all individual utilities, it is not only vague but also meaningless.
If welfare consists of all those goods, the value of which can be counted in monetary terms, we still have to answer the question of what all those goods are good for. When we try to answer that question we inevitably end up with goods that cannot be quantified.
The teleological perspective that Aristotle invites us to take, encourages us to be explicit about our most important values and consequently about the goods to strive for in order to realize those values. The question to ask, then, is what is what you do good for? Another way of putting the question is “What are your ideals?” Or: “What is your contribution?” “To which end do you seek to contribute?” Even a simple “Why?” could do the trick. All of these questions are asking for the telos.
I have been asking these questions during the last few years whenever I get a chance. I pose them to leaders of artistic organizations, to bankers, to civil servants, to colleagues, to friends and to students. The question also came up during a session with the partners of a law firm.
Resistance at a law firm
It was Klaas van Egmond that posed the question, once a leading figure on environmental issues in the Netherlands, and now a professor. His actual question was: “What are you here on Earth for?” He used his entire body to add an exclamation mark to this question. The partners of the law firm, who had gathered to reflect on their business, looked at him as if he came from Mars. They were not used to being addressed in this way. Lawyers are known to resist discussions of their values and to object to big questions. Van Egmond repeated the question.
I know these partners quite well. I collaborated in a Ph.D. research into the cultural capital of the firm. My Ph.D. student and I already had figured out that this law firm struggled with what we had identified as a creativity gap.
The partners sought more intellectual challenge and wanted more inspiring work than what they experienced. That did not surprise us. It is quite well known that firms of professionals grapple with the creativity issue. Yet what did surprise us, was that they were not really interested in dealing with the problem (or “challenge” as they prefer to call it). They were only interested in knowing how to increase their profit share. (As is common in law firms the partners receive equal shares of the total profit, regardless of the individual contributions everyone makes.) Each time we turned the conversation to some topic or another—the lack of cooperation, the need for more feedback, the improvement of acquisition, social responsibility or their childish behavior—
their faces would darken after a while and the same question would pop up:
how is this going to increase our profit share?
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Before Van Egmond put his question to them, I had tried the same by asking what is most important to them. One of them responded without hesi-tation: my profit share. Others nodded. Nobody took exception. As I have explained before, profit cannot be an ultimate goal. It is certainly not what anyone is here on earth for. The question to ask is: what is the profit share good for? If the answer is “more profit” the next question is: what is more profit good for? This probing did not work, though. They diverted the ques-tion, as lawyers are trained to do.
We did not give up; we tried all kinds of strategies. We had them watch The Return, a Russian movie (by the director Andrej Zvjagintsev) about a father who goes on a trip with his two sons he has not been with before. The movie tells what it takes for the father to realize what the values of fatherhood are and, for the boys, what it is to be a son. The ending is dramatic and got them silent for a while. But when we tried to discuss the meanings, some of them objected. This is not a classroom, they pointed out. I pushed on and found out that most of them had identified with the rebellious youngest boy in the movie. How about the father? Isn’t that the role they have in their firm? Isn’t their problem—sorry, challenge—that they need to figure out what it means to have a leading role and to take on the responsibilities that resemble those of the father in the movie?
I asked them to read Aristotle, on the goods to strive for and on the vir-tues. The discussion was interesting, but I was not sure that it changed any-thing for them. We organized feedback sessions; those seemed to work. They especially appreciated to hear from colleagues about their strong points. And then we did a field exercise: we put them in cold weather in leaky tents with basic Dutch food to get them to tell their story. How did they become lawyers?
At first I was confused. Some spoke of how the law had struck them and how the law continued to fascinate them. But most had wanted to do something else and ended up studying law by accident or for lack of a better alternative. A couple even detested the law and found it boring. How would these latter people survive in the law, I asked myself ? But as I listened to their stories, it struck me that they were lawyers for different reasons. Some of them were in it for the law. They were fascinated with the law and wanted to con-tribute to its advancement. A few were into the law for the excitement; they were like sportsmen who do everything they can to win, a case in their case.
Most of these lawyers, however, respond to the archetype of the helper: they derive satisfaction from being able to help people in distress. They want to see their client satisfied with their advice.
Even while I doubt that we are at the end of the road with these answers, the experience convinced me that probing does get us closer to the ultimate goal. Keep probing is the motto. Keep asking what is “helping” or “winning”
good for. Needless to add, profit is not an answer.
The goods to strive for embody the most important values
Is helping people a good in and of itself ? What is the helping good for? What is the good that “winning” or “personal growth” —to take another frequently mentioned goal—good for? The probing has to continue. How far can we get?I was visiting a Brazilian colleague and was introduced to his 14-year-old son. The kid looked pretty composed so I thought “what the heck” and asked him what was most important to him. He was quick with his answer: “money, history and my family.” His father was sitting right there, so I let the “family”
for what it was. His father was clearly pleased with that part of the answer.
How about history? Well, he really enjoyed the subject and would want to do more with it. How about the money? What is that good for? “Oh, then I can travel,” he replied. “So, it’s not about the money, but about traveling,” I con-tinued. “And what is the travel good for?” “To meet different people.” “Oh, so it’s not about traveling per se, but about meeting different people.” For a 14 year old this seemed good enough. We had moved already two steps away from the instrumental value that money held for him.
Another example: How about the goods that a school is to strive for?
Does a school have ideals? I tried to determine them with teachers and direc-tors of a high school. The direcdirec-tors told me that the good that they aim for is the satisfaction of their pupils. “And that of the parents,” someone added with the approval of others. I began probing. How about the teachers? What might be the good they are striving for? They agreed with their directors that it is the satisfaction of the pupils and their parents. I suspected that they had previously done a workshop in marketing or something like that. Everything they did was directed at their pupils. I kept probing.
I offered alternatives. How about good teaching as a good in and of itself ? After all, Aristotle mentions an activity as a possible good. The previous chapter identified practices as a good. Might a school be about great teach-ing? Is the practice of good teaching something to strive for? The directors shifted in their chairs, but I saw some teachers lighting up at the suggestion.
How about being a good school? Could it be that a school is a good in and of itself ? (When directors start speaking of their school as a business, with parents and their kids as customers and with diplomas as its product, I am inclined to ask everyone to take a deep breath. Might a school not be just that: a school?) Maybe not, but what if we think of learning as a goal in and of itself ? The school could be considered contributing to that goal.
But what is the learning good for? I suspected that I lost the majority of the teachers at this point. There were no reactions anymore. I had to do the probing myself. Might there be an ulterior purpose? Might it be that a school can aim high, and even should do so? Might it be that a good school contributes to the shaping of a good society, by empowering its students? And
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how about the idea that the school stands for the civilization? After all, with the help of the teachers, students get acquainted with all kinds of knowledge, works and traditions that our civilization has brought forth.
By then I had lost most of them. Would it make a difference, I wondered afterwards, with just a few interested teachers, to have civilization as a good to strive for? Would a shared awareness of that as a good affect the choices that the directors and teachers make? Would it affect the curriculum? We guessed that it would.
I am inclined to forgive the partners of the law firm for not realizing their goals. They can claim, after all, that they are just seeking profit. Yet, even they are in need of goals that go beyond the profit, so we found out. Yet it came as a surprise to me to discover that people of idealistic organizations also have difficulty articulating the goods that they strive for or the contribution that they seek. You would expect that the so-called nonprofits are clear about their goals, as they need to make clear what it is they strive for if it is not profit.
They often are not. In the literature on the non-profit sector the question about the goal is a critical one. Economists see a goal as something that can be maximized in order to construct their models. Yet what non-profits are maxi-mizing remains unclear. Is a theatre maximaxi-mizing the number of seats filled?
Is a theatre group maximizing attention? See for example Netzer, Non-profit organizations and Drucker, Managing the Non-Profit Organization (Netzer, 2011;
Drucker, 1992).
In a project that is directed at the evaluation of theatre groups, I needed to find out the goals of a theatre group. What is the theatre group after? Making great theatre, maybe? So what? What is that good for? Once the probing begins, other possible goods quickly pop up. One theatre group I worked with wants to sustain the rich tradition of Dutch theatre. Another theatre maker ended up with justice as the good to which she wanted to contribute in the end. Very often theatre groups are seeking to challenge their audience. They are like missionaries seeking out lost souls to show them how much watching their plays can mean to them. The answer visibly pleases them. However, it provokes the inevitable follow-up question: what is the challenge good for?
The answer is not obvious. Disturbing and shocking people or changing their minds are not activities that are good in and of themselves. Maybe the makers will be pleased to see their visitors shocked and disturbed for the remainder of their lives after having watched their play, but I doubt that they will get much support if that is the intended purpose. They must have something else as the contribution that they want to make in the end.
As a rule, cultural organizations want to do more than only sustain their art; they seek to bring about change in their art form—to do something that has not been done before—and they also seek to change the valuations of certain stakeholders (such as adolescents and students) by seducing them to