Accountability for the Rich and Famous: A Soft Landing for an Ex-Prince

In ancient Greek tragedy, it was not uncommon for a god or goddess to perform the function of a Greek (i.e., conscience) chorus at the end of a play while being pulled by pullies high above the stage. Deus ex machina is the Latin phrase, which meant, a deity out from pullies. We get machine, mechanism, and even engine from the Latin word, machina. A movie entitled Ex Machina is on an AI android that seems full of life, even miraculous, from “pullies” inside it’s “body.” Ex-Prince Andrew of the (seceded) sovereign state of UK, or “Britain” informally, seemed to fly about the other actors in being able to land, rent-free, fittingly around Christmas, 2025, at the monarch’s Sandringham estate in eastern Britain, still rent-free, and with King Charles funding his brother. Considering that Andrew Windsor should arguably been sent to prison for having sex with a 17 year-old prostitute in the employ of the infamous Epstein, and that a large settlement paid by Queen Elizabeth II made Giuffre’s charges go away, as if magically, Andrew not only landed on his feet, but without touching the ground where us mere mortals make our way through life to survive and perhaps prosper.

The state’s palace-office put out a statement claiming that “royal sympathies are with the victims of abuse, but if that were the case, the royal family could have acted more firmly . . . Distancing themselves from Andrew is not the same as calling for accountability.”[1] This is not to imply that the royal family approved of Andrew’s behavior, not only in allegedly illegally raping Giuffre or in allegedly having his police-guards dig up dirt on her, but make no mistake, his soft landing wherein he actually is allowed to remain comfortably in the air above us mere mortals does not divorce him from the luxurious life of royalty. Even though Andrew has been accused of using his public duties to enrich himself through his businesses, the King announced that he would be funding his brother going forward even though questions about “how, exactly, Andrew affords his lavish lifestyle” could continue to be raised.[2]

When a prince himself, Charles could be said to have abused Diana emotionally by serially subjecting her to his rather blatant infidelity with Camilla. Additionally, the royal family refused to get Diana help for her mental illness. So, it would not be surprising were the King to actually have sympathy for his brother plagued by misdeeds of his own. Birds of a feather fly together, even when they appear to diverge publicly.

The Palace, I suspect, has become very savvy in how to use brand management to shore up the reputation of the royal family as well as the various actors therein. As one commentator wrote, “Distinguishing Andrew from the rest of the royal family is Windsor brand management after years of taint by association.”[3] Such taint includes Prince Harry’s revelation that Prince William became violent in attacking the younger brother because William was angry and disliked Harry’s wife, a Californian and a former actress! So the Palace put out video of William seemingly crying when listening to a subject’s sad story. The sudden show of emotion from a guy who had otherwise looked staid and placid should have raised questions of manipulation of the public. That William could become king sooner rather than later due to his father’s ongoing treatment of cancer (shown publicly in bloated, ruddy hands in photos) may have motivated the PR offensive. Such actually-offensive manipulation is sadly typically missed on the public anywhere. Dazzled perhaps by the rich and famous soaring above us, we look up but strangely miss the sordid underbellies. Deus ex machina really does seem to apply to royalty especially, even when accusations of squalid, even illegal conduct are too strong to ignore. It seems that the human mind, which is actually the brain, is too susceptible—too vulnerable—to being manipulated by forces whose power reigns on the public airwaves. If only you and I were as savvy as the rich and famous, accountability could be on the horizon. Surgite et  adsequimini superis!

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1. Autumn Brewington, “UK’s Andrew Losing His ‘Prince” Title Isn’t the End of the Story,” MSNBC.com, October 31, 2025.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.

Beyond Climate Change: Starbucks Awash in Cash

While it may be tempting to go after companies for hypocrisy on corporate social responsibility, even deeper criticism may be closer to the bottom line, financially. Even though social media castigated Starbucks for its impact on carbon emissions in agreeing to fly its Southern Californian CEO Brian Niccol to Seattle on a company plane each week, I submit that the amount of spending entailed raises questions about cost-containment and even cast some doubt on whether the company’s price increases in 2024 were wholly justified, and thus even on whether the industry was competitive or an oligarchy.

Before Niccol was to assume his role as CEO on September 9, 2024, Starbucks announced that he would “not be required to relocate to the company’s headquarters” during his employment with the company.[1] Because he would be expected to work at the Seattle office at least three days a week to comply with the company’s policy on hybrid working, he would be flying a distance greater than that which is between Berlin and Rome on a company plane weekly. Why could he not fly commercial (business class) and thereby save the company a lot of money? Is a CEO really above such flying?

I suspect that in the E.U. the answer would be more down-to-earth, or realistic, than in the U.S., where CEO’s are more likely to be reckon as akin to divine emperors. Whereas in Europe, an aristocracy exists that can put the moneyed caste in its proper place, American CEOs reside at the top of the societal pyramid. Being consumed with thoughts of money is valued rather than presumed low. This is not to say that inherited wealth is value-free and thus exempt from a different criticism. Rather, my point is that CEO’s of American companies can get away with being treated like royalty on account of the relatively pro-business (or business-leaning) societal culture.

Rather than criticizing Starbucks for spending too much money on its CEO’s transportation, users of social media expressed anger over the company’s preachments on sustainability while the CEO is to be flown on a private plane weekly, burning thousands of liters of fuel in the atmosphere. On its website, the company claimed that it had “a bold aspiration to be a resource positive company.”[2] The CEO of Conservation International stated that the company was backing up its “commitments with immediate actions to reduce [its] footprint and invest in nature.”[3] The hypocrisy could have been easily obviated by having the CEO fly business in a commercial airline.

It is not as if Niccol would not be able to afford the flights, as his annual salary was announced as $1.6 million, not including a possible performance-related bonus of up to $7.2 million and up to $23 million a year in company stock.[4] Of course, the company would no doubt cover the cost of its CEO’s commute, whether commercial or on a company plane, and such money, together with his compensation-level, suggests that Starbucks had money to burn in 2024 even as it was increasing the prices of its drink products.

In 2023, the CEO-to-worker pay ratio in the United States had increased to 251:1, which was up 26% from 2022. Back in 1965, CEOs were paid on average just 21 times more than the medium worker. In 2021, Chipotle, where Niccol had worked prior to becoming CEO of Starbucks, was at 2,998:1, which was the fifth highest in the United States. I suspect that he had rather high expectations in negotiating with Starbucks. That the company relented even as it felt the need to increase drink prices (presumably to keep afloat financially) is a point that the carbon-emission critics missed.

Considering the rise in prices at restaurants and grocery stores since the pandemic of 2020, it is worthy of note societally that a company raising prices would have enough cash on hand to fly one person weekly on a company plane instead of having him fly commercial (and on his own dime!). That is to say, one might wonder how legitimate the rising prices of food (and drink) were even after the pandemic. In competitive markets, new entrants can offer more competitive prices and thus bring down prices generally in an industry, such that the companies cannot afford to be extravagant in spending. Starbucks may simply have been raising prices because it could get away with it, and could thus afford to fly its CEO on a company plane weekly not only to the company’s headquarters, but on visits to company stores and brewing facilities on a regular basis.

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1. “Anger Boils Up over Starbucks CEO 1600km ‘Super Commute’ on Private Jet,” Euronews, August 23, 2024.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.

“No Loans” on Gun Sales: G.E. as Socially Responsible or Financially Savvy?

In the wake of the Sandy Hook school shooting in Newton, Connecticut in late 2012, General Electric announced that the company would no longer finance consumers’ gun purchases. Russell Wilkerson, a G.E. spokesman, wrote in an email that the new policy was being adopted “in light of industry changes, new legislation and tragic events that have caused widespread re-examination of policies on fire-arms.” In other words, the policy shift was not simply a reaction to Sandy Hook. Rather, the company’s executives were adapting to changes in the organization’s environment, including the industry itself. This opens up the question of whether the new policy can be classified under the rubric of corporate social responsibility (CSR). Perhaps the adaptation was simply good business, with the appearance of “CSR” adding some reputational capital through a good public-relations campaign.

Do business principles mandate treating this product like any other?  Source: NBC News

Well-meaning moralists in particular may have a tendency to project their own strident sense of obligation onto other people, and even organizations as if they too could be moral agents. Yet an organization, like a biological organism, must adapt to its changing environment, or risk being replaced by a competitor that has achieved a better fit to the new environment. Does such adaptation, which renders a company more fit by means of a sort of competitive natural-selection process, involve obligation manifested as responsibility to that environment, or is the adapting simply a matter of survival and even accruing surplus? To do one’s duty is not typically said of what a person wants to do anyway in line with self-interest. A person would quickly see through my claim that it is my duty to eat the remaining chocolate sundae so not to waste food. People do not typically fall over themselves to do something out of a feeling of duty or felt responsibility. For the sense of obligation or responsibility to be the primary motivator, the person (or persons, in the case of a company) must not otherwise be inclined, as from the anticipation of a benefit, to act. When stimulated, self-interest tends to eclipse the feeling of duty of responsibility. This thesis can be applied to GE’s policy on financing firearm purchases. 
First, though, can the policy be said to fall under the rubric of corporate social responsibility? What if marketing the policy was simply good business? The societal benefit in making it more difficult for people to buy guns may simply have been intended as a byproduct. Surely the societal good of a byproduct has worth even without having been motivated when the policy was chosen. Even so, the primacy of self-interest--the profit motive--irrationally taints the resulting societal good. Such a company's societal reputation would be enhanced by the good of the byproduct and decreased by the primary motivation of self-interest.  
How salient was the profit-motive in GE's decision to stop lending on gun sales, and how great was the impact in terms of the benefit to society, beyond the company? GE Capital Finance had already stopped providing consumer financing for new gun-shop customers in 2008. The policy change in 2013 merely extended the ban to existing customers. So it is not as though potentially new customers would be discouraged from buying a gun on impulse for nefarious purposes. The impact on the bottom line from lost sales could not have been assumed to be great; even if new and existing gun customers had been eligible for financing before the policy change in 2013, we would still be talking about a small fraction of GE’s revenue. Additionally, according to USA Today in 2013, GE’s “decision affects fewer than 75 retailers, which GE says is about 0.001% of all gun retailers.” This is because the policy “affects only retailers that sell firearms exclusively.” General merchandise stores, such as Walmart, were excluded from the company’s lending ban. 
However, Wells Fargo had stopped financing gun purchases in 2004 “for business reasons,” according to company spokeswoman Lisa Westermann. Perhaps it was good business at GE too, but not directly. 
Indeed, the "corporate social responsibility" policy as promotion could have been expected to boost sales companywide without much cost in foregone gun sales on credit to new customers in gun stores only. In fact, the policy as promoted could even be misleading, as in the article's title in USA Today, “GE Won’t Make Loans to Buy Guns” even though GE would still be financing guns—just not through stores that sell only guns. The gap itself between the publicized and actual policy could mean that the managers' intent had been to use “marketed CSR” to boost the company's reputational capital with as little cost as possible. In other words, the profit-motive was likely the motive. If most of GE’s lending on gun purchases was through multi-merchandise retail stores, GE could capitalize financially on sympathy from the school shooting without having to give up much financially. Interestingly, the shooter’s father, Peter Lanza, was a GE executive at the time—the company being based in Fairfield, Connecticut. Had other GE executives felt obligated, also being at such close range to the tragedy, to protect the kids, we would not have seen the sort of motivation that led to the exceptions and allowing the misleading storyline to go uncorrected. Were the primary intent that of protecting kids at schools from getting shot, the loopholes would not have been allowed to exist even if GE had to wait for contract renewals with general-purpose retailers such as Walmart.  
Often corporate social responsibility and business ethics are conflated. The distinction in this case is clear. The fitness of a policy to societal norms is a descriptive matter of whether organizational values are in sync with societal ones, whereas the misleading claim to have have ended loans on gun sales is a normative matter. Whether the norm in GE is consistent with the societal norm on the role of guns in the tragedies does not require justification by ethical reasoning and principles or theories. In contrast, whether a company should be misleading or even fail to stop it in the press necessarily includes resort to ethical principles, for only they can justify the claim that the motive or consequence is unethical. 
Still another lesson to take from this case involves the choice to wade into a controversial societal issue. As in the case of gun control, which is really about access to guns, entering a controversial debate puts a company at risk for being negatively viewed by the “other side.” This could significantly reduce the good  to the company obtained from the use of corporate social responsibility. 
A USA Today poll taken at the time of the policy change in 2013 found public support for new gun-control legislation “slipping below” 50 percent. GE risked many people agreeing with John Meek, the owner of a gun store in Illinois, who called GE’s policy “an injustice” because the instrument rather than the user is being blamed. Howard Schultz of Starbucks, in contrast, correctly judged the changing American attitude toward gay marriage in using the company to promote the cause, even if a CEO using a company for a personal political agenda is unethical. A dramatically changing shift in societal mores, norms, or attitudes is like a wave that managers strategizing corporate social responsibility programs and policies can ride, whether the motive is financial gain only or includes improving the social good. What might seem like an easy way to enhance a company's societal reputation can easily backfire if not done with attention to a changing business environment. 

Source:

Paul Davidson, “GE Won’t Make Loans to Buy Guns,” USA Today, April 25, 2013.

Facebook Secretly Shared Users' Friend's Data with Business Partners: A Case of Betrayal

According to The New York Times at the end of 2018, internal documents generated at Facebook in 2017 showed that the company “gave Microsoft, Amazon, Spotify, and others far greater access to people’s data” even after having raised a privacy wall than Facebook had disclosed.[1] That is, Facebook effectively exempted some of its business partners from the company’s privacy rules without notifying users. In many quarters, this would be called lying, which in turn would suggest a sordid management at Facebook. The more subtle astonishment, I submit, is that 2.2 billion users had stayed with Facebook after the hidden use of personal data for political purposes. The partnership between Facebook and Cambridge Analytica had hardly been made in heaven. Why such enduring trust in spite of external data being clear grounds for losing trust and giving up using Facebook? How many betrayals would be necessary? In literal marriages, trust can be lost “like that!” Similarly, when a child even unconsciously loses trust for her parents, the solid basis of trust in a normal parent-child relationship is lost most likely forever. Why has Facebook—a distant business punctuated by lies—get a pass?

The newspaper’s valuable discovery offered the fullest picture yet of the wide extent, or scale, to which personal data was traded through at least 2018 “by some of the most powerful companies in Silicon Valley and beyond.”[2] In fact, The New York Times points in its investigative reporting to the “extraordinary power over the personal information of its 2.2 billion users—control it has wielded with little transparency or outside oversight.”[3] The lack of transparency should be a giant red flag concerning the unethical climate at Facebook’s “upper” management levels. Betrayal drips off the screen in Mark Zuckerberg’s decision to allow “Microsoft’s Bing search engine to see the names of virtually all Facebook users’ friends without consent” and give “Netflix and Spotify the ability to read Facebook users’ private messages.”[4] Facebook also “permitted Amazon to obtain users’ names and contact information through their friends, and [Facebook] let Yahoo view streams of friends’ posts . . . despite public statements that [Facebook] had stopped that kind of sharing years earlier.”[5] Specifically, in the wake of revelations (not from Facebook!) that the company had allowed a political consulting firm, Cambridge Analytica, to use user data to help Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign, Zuckerberg publicly claimed that his company was instituting stricter privacy protections for users. Therein lies a lie, for he said nothing about permitting gaping exemptions.  

Even so, how many of Facebook’s users left because of the Cambridge Analytica scandal?  Astonishing, or maybe not!, because over two billion users remained, which implies that plenty of users behaved as herd animals, going on as usual in spite of having reason to delete their accounts. Many of the users must have sensed, even if unconsciously, that their trust in Facebook no longer had a viable foundation (i.e., a basis in fact). With the subsequent revelations of the New York Times detailed here, would what was by that point a squalid track record register in the minds of the 2.2 billion users? If not, a gap would still exist between users including personal information and pictures and trust that Facebook would not betray those users yet again. In a perfect market, viable competitors to Facebook would exist and consumers would--especially given the low barriers to entry--readily switch over. Perhaps Facebook's practice of buying up potential competitors early (and for a lot of money) had rendered the market oligarchical. Yet even this would not explain why the status quo had been favoring Facebook rather than the naive, oblivious, or neutral users. I submit that this case represents a market failure from the standpoint of competitive, free-market Capitalism. 
Lest it be assumed that the U.S. Government would increase oversight on Facebook (and other social-media companies), would any action really come from government (including regulatory oversight) even as wealthy mega-companies like Facebook (and its “partners”!) could doubtlessly make very substantial political campaign contributions? Given this conflict of interest, at least in the U.S., relying on the users to protect themselves seems naive. On this problem, I submit that the explanation lies in psychology. Are human beings--or most humans--too prone to act on an instinctual urge to act as herd animals rather than as trend-setting individuals? Nietzsche thought so, and he argues in his books that such people are herdish because they are weak. Can 2.2 billion people be weak, or is the problem external, such as a dearth of information or simply a calculation that what comes free in a Facebook account is worth more than the company's betrayals? 

See also the booklet, Taking the Face Off Facebook, available at Amazon. On Nietzsche's moral philosophy applied to business ethicists and managers alike, see On the Arrogance of False Entitlement: A Nietzschean Critique of Business Ethics and Management, available at Amazon.

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1. Gabriel Dance, Michael LaForgia, and Nicholas Confessore, “As Facebook Raised a Privacy Wall, It Carved an Opening for Tech Giants,” The New York Times, December 18, 2018.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid., italics added.

Saving the Fisheries: Greenpeace Praised Safeway for its Ethical and Stately Leadership

In April 2011, Greenpeace gave fifteen supermarket chains a passing grade; five others failed. Surprisingly, Safeway came out on top, above even Whole Foods. Safeway pledged to stop selling Chilean sea bass (Patagonian toothfish) because current fishing levels are unsustainable. Furthermore, the grocer called on governing bodies to declare the area in the southern Antarctic where the bass is fished a marine reserve. According to Casson Trenor of Greenpeace, such an act of “corporate marine activism” had “never been done before.” Safeway also discontinued the sale of orange mughy, which is unsustainably being fished in the deep sea off New Zealand.  In fact, the company stopped adding red-list species to its inventory.

Beyond any added sales from the enhancement of Safeway’s reputational capital, the company’s moves, going even as far as activism, are in line with facilitating the future supply of the seafood products.  In other words, the moves represent a sort of long-term investment, with the cost being the additional money that could be made in the short term from selling the fish. That other grocers, such as Giant Eagle and Publix, failed in the Greenpeace grading suggests that other companies are profiting in the short term from Safeway’s self-imposed restraint for a long-term benefit available to every grocer. 

In other words, it goes against the law of externalities for one company to voluntary exclude an otherwise salable product from the shelves while competitors benefit from not only that exclusion, but also the long-term benefit of full fisheries available to any grocer. Ordinarily, this dynamic is why a cartel or government regulation is necessary—so all companies recognize the constraint in the short term for the good of the whole industry in the long term. As compelling as that long-term benefit may be, some people will refuse to shove the trough away while there is anything left in it—such is the instinct of instant gratification over deferred enjoyment in human nature.  Hence, it is amazing that any one business would observe a self-imposed constraint at the expense of expediency that is not being observed by others in the industry.

Safeway may represent a case of ethical leadership that is in line with statesmanship. In addition to being ethical (i.e., following an ethical principle such as sustainability), standing alone in the activism (i.e., the leadership) in this case forsakes immediate self-interest for the public good (i.e., statesmanship).  The three elements—ethics, leadership, and statesmanship—can thus be distinguished and related.

An interesting question is whether corporate managers are being ethical in terms of their fiduciary duty if ethical leadership in line with statesmanship is not in stockholders’ financial interest even in the long term. In the present case, it could be argued that the foregone profit is not worth the added profit in the long term from sustainable fisheries.  Additionally, it could be argued that Safeway could have continued to sell the unsustainable fish as Target and Wegmans sacrificed for the eventual benefit that Safeway too could enjoy. The problem of fiduciary duty could be obviated in such scenarios by securing stockholder approval at an annual meeting. 

At the level of property rights, profit-maximization is only a default that a company’s stockholders, as the owners, can modify or even replace.  Therefore, if a majority of shares vote to use the company to save the fisheries even at the overall financial detriment of the company, such a use of property/wealth is proper and legitimate for owners, with the caveat of minority stockholder rights being respected. Such rights can be satisfied by giving minority stockholders the right to sell at a worthwhile and fair price. Such selling would result in more solid ownership support for the new mission. Moreover, to use one’s property not only to make money, but also for a cause that one is passionate about can make life itself more enjoyable and thus worth living.   

Source:

Kim O’Donnel, “Safeway Scales the ‘Seafood Scoreboard’ by Greenpeace,” USA Today, April 18, 2011, p. 5D.

Does Refusing Rolling Stone Magazine's Use of a Criminal's Picture For Marketing Purposes Violate Corporate Social Responsibility?

In 2013, the editors at Rolling Stone must have been kicking themselves after several retail chains announced that they would not be selling the issue that displays Dzhokhar Tsarnaev as a young hottie. Criminal charges had been made against him for the Boston marathon bombing that took place in April of that year. Selling a magazine by playing off the good looks of a terrorist was more than several—but not all—retailers could stand. Were the offended retailers being socially responsible, or is the matter of CSR not as clear-cut as has typically been assumed.

This picture of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was on the cover of an issue of the Rolling Stone. From a marketing perspective, why might the editors have selected this particular photo? To which market segment might the choice be oriented? Image Source: hdwallpaperfresh.com  

Tedeschi Foods, a grocery-store chain based in New England, issued a rather emotional statement for a company: “Tedeschi Food Shops supports the need to share the news with everyone, but cannot support actions that serve to glorify the evil actions of anyone. With that being said, we will not be carrying this issue of Rolling Stone. Music and terrorism don’t mix!”[1] Had Rolling Stone’s editors sought to glorify the evil actions of an alleged bomber, or had the intent been to profit from them? If the latter, couldn’t the news companies that splashed pictures of Tsarnaev on the television screen (while not showing commercials) be accused of the very same thing? Music and terrorism may not mix, but selling news and showcasing bombers apparently do. Is the Rolling Stones in the business of news or music?
Rite Aid issued a statement that it too would not be selling the paper, “Out of respect for those affected by the Boston Marathon Bombing.” CVS issued a similar statement. “As a company with deep roots in New England and a strong presence in Boston, we believe this is the right decision out of respect for the victims of the attack and their loved ones.”[2] Did the CVS executives really want to respect the victims, or did the underlying rationale have more to do with the positive PR impact on CVS’s image from “showing” compassion and respect in line with societal norms? The phrases “deep roots in New England” and “strong presence in Boston” can be read as advertisements using pathos, or emotion, to persuade New Englanders and Bostonians to identify with, and thus buy from, the “hometown” company.
Walgreens simply stated that it would not be selling the issue. K-Mart had a similar statement, according to the Huffington Post. Ironically, those two retailers might have been more principled in the decision, as they were less oriented to profiting from their respective announcements.
Bucking this collective push away from the controversial cover, the 7-Eleven convenience-store chain announced that it would be selling the issue. This decision raises the question of whether companies should have identical social policies, given that the relevant societal norm does not differ.[3] Did the 7-Eleven executives make the wrong decision, given the relevant societal norm? Or does that norm conflict with another—namely, that consumers should be the ones to make the decision through their purchasing decisions. The other retailers preempted the consumers from “voting with their wallets.” In other words, the societal norm against popularizing people who did bad things, allegedly or not, conflicts with the value of economic liberty in a market economy. Which is more in line with societal values in the U.S.:  compassion for victims or economic freedom? It depends on which value is or ought to be prioritized. In advocating a fit with societal norms and values, corporate social responsibility cannot say which norm or value should be prioritized—only that the company should closely fit itself with whichever societal norm or value is “picked.” To privilege particular societal norms or values over others as if the emphasis were mandated or implied in being socially responsible makes corporate social responsibility dogmatic in the sense of being arbitrary. That is, it makes CSR ideologically prescriptive rather than a theory explaining why only some companies survive in the long run and a tool being used by managers to steer their companies through choppy waters.
In terms of the Rolling Stone cover, it may indeed be arbitrary for retail chains to boycott the issue after television news networks made so much money off the story by showing the bomber’s picture. In other words, the double-standard may point to the arbitrariness in the corporate social responsibility movement. On the other hand, the retailers (excepting 7-Eleven) may have drawn the line at the magazine cover because the particular head shot together with the Rolling Stone context may have been designed to sell the bomber as a sexy guy—something the television coverage did not do. Whereas profiting by showing various pictures strains a societal norm but does not break it, profiting by sexualizing a young terrorist may indeed cross the line.
At any rate, this case study demonstrates that corporations do indeed differ with respect to how or whether to be socially responsible. That is to say, social responsibility is a judgment call on which people can and do differ.

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1. “Rolling Stone’s ‘The Bomber’ Issue Banned By CVS, Walgreens, Rite Aid And Kmart,” The Huffington Post, June 17, 2013.

2. “Rolling Stone’s ‘The Bomber’ Issue Banned By CVS, Walgreens, Rite Aid And Kmart,” The Huffington Post, June 17, 2013.
3. This assumption does not apply to the environment of international business, as different societies have differing societal norms on a given topic.

The Underbelly of Corporate Charity as Corporate Social Responsibility

Why do corporate managements spend corporate money on charities? The obvious reason is to reduce the amount of corporate income tax due. Yet another motive, not as transparent, has to do with reputational capital, and that motive may also explain corporate social responsibility.
Achieving the low 12.6% effective tax rate was undoubtedly on Bernie Madoff’s mind when he made his firm's charitable contributions. This rationale was by no means unusual at the time.  Furthermore, Madoff would not have been above using charity in order to display himself as a very wealthy person. According to Martin Press, a tax attorney, “If [Madoff] actually gave the money to charity, it is a common theme of Ponzi scheme people to make large charitable contributions to show people how wealthy they are.”[3] The perception of Madoff as a financially successful personally rendered him trustworthy in being capable of making investors rich, and the apparent charitable giving gave the impression of trustworthiness in its normative sense (i.e., honesty and integrity).

Similarly, moreover, corporate strategies may include programs under the rubric of corporate social responsibility as a means of cultivating the impression that the corporation itself is financially successful and trustworthy both in terms of competence and fairness. That is, corporate social responsibility may be more about amassing reputational capital for the corporation than any acknowledged responsibility to society (other than to provide consumers with effective products). 
Lastly, charitable giving can be motivated by the wrong assumption that it can make up morally for unethical policies. In the case of Bernie Madoff, the firm's business was inherently unethical as a ponzi scheme. Besides providing merely a patina of morality, therefore, charitable giving can also be "rationalized" in corporate boardrooms or CEO offices as making up for any unethical policies or conduct. Like any patina, charitable giving specifically and corporate social responsibility more generally cannot make up for a sordid company culture and any unethical policies or conduct within a company. Put another way, fighting the temptation to have an unethical company when expedient is worth more ethically than having a corporate-responsibility program. Theoretically speaking, such a program is not primarily ethical; rather, it narrows the gap between existent corporate and societal norms, whereas an ethical policy or conduct is so because it survives critique of the underlying ethical justification. The difference here is between the is and the ought. To get ought out of is (i.e., business ethics out of a CSR program) is, according to David Hume, the naturalistic fallacy. Norms exist, and therefore are, whereas ethical policies and conduct pertain to what should be. 

Sources:

1.  John Waggoner, “Madoff ‘Donated’ a Lot to Charity,” USA Today, December 13, 2013.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

Apple’s CEO Manufactures a Human Right

People with disabilities represented 19% of the U.S. population in 2015—exactly 25 years after the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) became a federal law.[1] With computer technology being by then integral to daily life, the matter of accessibility came to the fore under the normative principle of equal, or universal, access. With major tech companies getting behind this banner, one question is whether they did so simply to sell more computers and software—better access translating into more customers. I contend that the stronger the normative claim being made, the greater the exploitation of the underlying conflict of interest.

In 2015, the American computer sector still suffered from “a lack of industry-wide expertise in accessibility development.”[2] So companies including Facebook, Microsoft, and Yahoo put together the Teaching Accessibility program to teach engineers, designers, and researchers how to include accessibility development in their skill-sets. "Increasing awareness and accessibility learning through core education, academic leadership, learning tools, industry initiatives, and partnerships with disability organizations will further enable graduates in relevant disciplines to enter the workforce and begin creating future technologies that are truly inclusive," Eva LaManna, policy manager for AAPD, said in a statement.[3] The premise, according to Larry Goldberg at Yahoo, is that making tech products accessible “is simply the right thing to do.”[4] Of course, doing so would not hurt sales either. This point undercuts the credibility of Goldberg’s normative claim, for it would be naïve to suppose that he and his colleagues would be motivated by “the right thing to do” were it not in the company’s financial interest. In other words, I contend that the normative claim is sheer marketing designed to garner the company reputational capital and at the same time advertise to the disabled.

Although Apple was conspicuously absent, the company had been training its engineers in the development of accessibility features. Indeed, the CEO, Tim Cook, wrote on July 24, 2015, went further than Goldberg in asserting the value of accessibility for everyone. “Accessibility rights are human rights. Celebrating 25yrs of the ADA, we’re humbled to improve lives with our products.”[5] To claim that a right is a human right is of course easy; the assertion may simply be a way of saying that something is very important. That is to say, if you value something highly, one way of expressing this is by asserting that it is a right—in fact, a human right. This implies that the thing that you value should be valued by everyone. He is essentially universalizing his maxim, making it a universal normative law. Obviously, we can wind up with loads of human rights going well beyond sustainability this way. Cook was indeed making a claim that human rights extend beyond needs, and thus are potentially limitless, unless access to computer technology was at the time essential to survival in the interdependent society.

If accessibility was at the time vital to survival, then government may have had an obligation to see to it that every person has access to a computer regardless of wherewithal to pay. This point presupposes that survival itself is a human right. Interestingly, Cook’s assertion that the right to accessibility is a human right can be interpreted as a claim obligating Apple to see to it that every person has access to a computer regardless of ability to pay. Faced with the implication that the company must hand out free computers (and accessibility software) to the poor, Cook might have sought to walk back his statement to something like, “At Apple, we believe it is important that computers be accessible to people with disabilities.” In retrospect, the man’s human-right claim may seem over the top. His conflict of interest may explain why he went so far without taking into consideration the implications.

For one thing, he may have been seeking to tout Apple’s record on accessibility. This is, after all, why Apple had not joined the training initiative. At the time, the iOS operating system included features like voice over, “speak screen,” dictation, zoom, and support for Braille displays.[6] To the extent that Apple had a sustainable competitive edge in accessibility, Cook had a huge financial incentive to make as bold a claim as possible. In business terms, a strategic competitive advantage should be highlighted in marketing so the potentially high profitability is more likely to be realized.

Interestingly, the marketing dimension itself undercuts the message in more than one way. First, the self-interest belies the claim of humility, and possibly even the claim of wanting foremost to improve lives. Given the manager’s fiduciary duty to the stockholders, his primary motive is to increase profits. Second, readers of Cook’s claim that accessibility is a human right can justifiably doubt the validity of the claim itself because Cook had a vested commercial interest in making the claim. That is, greater accessibility means more people are using computers, and thus are potential new customers of Apple products. Cook had the motive, therefore, to make the claim even if doesn’t believe it to be true, and to beg off any inconvenient implications such as the obligation to give away computers to people unable to afford them. In terms of Kant’s ethics, that Cook’s maxim cannot be universalized without internal contradiction (i.e., everyone should have a computer, but only if they can afford it) renders the claim unethical. In other words, it would unethical for Cook to have made the claim then refuse to give away computers.

In short, public statements by CEOs should not be taken at face value because more is probably behind the assertions than meets the eye. I suspect that the general public is naïve concerning such statements; we are too willing to assume that persons of high stature societally—and this includes CEOs of large companies—are good natured, for we don’t have access to the discussions that go on inside corporations. We are not familiar with how business managers think, and what motivates them. We suppose them to be like us, and we do not tend to carefully craft our utterances to manipulate other people in a self-aggrandizing way. So we take a statement such as Cook’s at face value. He claimed that computer-accessibility rights are human rights, and thus every person has a just claim regardless of ability to pay, and yet he clearly did not mean to suggest that, for Apple would then be obligated, and that would not be in line with the bottom line.  

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[1] “IOD Report Finds Significant Health Disparities for People with Disabilities,” Institute on Disability/UCED, August 25, 2011.

[2] Lorenzo Litato, “Silicon Valley Vows to Improve Tech for People with Disabilities,” The Huffington Post, July 24, 2015.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Larry Goldberg, “Teaching Accessibility: A Call to Action from the Tech Industry,” Yahoo (accessed July 25, 2015).

[5] Alexander Howard, “Apple CEO Tim Cook: ‘Accessibility Rights Are Human Rights,” The Huffington Post, July 24, 2015.

[6] Ibid.

On the Banality of Disruptive Innovation

When a herd grabs hold of something, odds are that its original meaning will not only get trampled over, but also in a way that turns it up-side down before spreading it all over as if it were sweet-smelling manure. Particularly striking is the ensuing willfulness that typically contravenes efforts to pen in the herd to the confines of the term’s definition. I have in mind the erroneous and even tautological self-aggrandizing trajectory of the term disruption in the business sector of society. Drawing on Nietzsche, I submit that the offending sickness is centered in an interlarding presumptuousness to define an existing word conveniently, even in ways that are antithetical to the received meaning. That is to say, this cultural problem involves more than garden-variety ignorance.

The full essay has been incorporated into (or swallowed up by) On the Arrogance of False Entitlement: A Nietzschean Critique of Business Ethics and Management, available in print and as an ebook at Amazon.

Trading Egalitarian Reputational Capital For First-Class Business: JetBlue Airline

It may sound trite, but managers really do compromise or expunge their company’s reputational capital altogether in order to chase down the additional revenue obtainable from a market segment that had been extraneous to the reputation. If the new advertisements have a Janus-like duplicitousness air, the source is not likely even to admit to the previously long-held principles. Indeed, the contrivance can be discerned from the way in which artful managers use words themselves—stretching them for an intended effect well past their respective meanings and customary usages. Unfortunately, the made-up diction can be contagious in a society that esteems organizational position.

I have in mind Jet Blue’s switch from its egalitarian single-class cabins to the first/coach bifurcated model. Left in the jet-wash is the company’s long-standing principle of egalitarianism, lost in the anticipation of more revenue from business travelers. Jami Counter at a website that includes reviews of airlines suggests that Jet Blue would no longer be “challenged winning their fair share of corporate and business contracts because they didn’t have a true premium experience.”[1] What, pray tell, is a premium experience? How does a true one differ from the mere garden-variety? In the case of JetBlue, the benefits to the business traveler include “the longest, widest flatbed seats” on any route within the U.S., and four “suites”—single-seat “pods” with their own doors.[2] The latter reminds me of the forts my elementary school friends and I used to make in the woods behind the school; each of us would pick a bush and use its base to build a tiny enclosed “fort.” It would seem that adult business travelers have the same instinct.

In any case, we don’t have to look far to see where verbal garbage like “a true premium experience” comes from. Perhaps the experience-warping complimentary “signature drink” before take-off and a “cocktail” before dinner might render experience itself transparent, such that the airline could indeed market “experience” itself. All the same, I would be more interested in the 100 channels on the seat’s 15-inch screen, and whether I could plug my laptop into it as I sit in my little fort as the elongated tin can careens forward at 30,000 feet at 500 miles an hour.

Jamie Perry, the airline’s director of product development, delivered a line as if on cue that the novelty would not be limited to the “Mint,” or first-class” experience; an “effort to reinvent the core cabin”[3]—where “core” is a cover for coach—boils down to bigger seats, power-outlets at each one, and up to 100 channels of television undoubtedly to placate perturbed pre-existing customers accustomed to flying egalitarian. Perry's linguistic over-reach—the larger seats and additional plugs hardly constituting an invention in any sense of the word (and reinvention being an oxymoron, like rebeginning)—points to a certain round-aboutness that is anything but up-front and transparent. 

Behind the "reinvented cabin" is a manufactured shift from the longstanding egalitarian premise to that of all boats rising—just not to the same level. The lack of equivalence is precisely what the fuzzy word-play is meant to blur. That is to say, the crafty wordplay—“core” for coach and “premium experience” for first-class service—dovetails with the wily switch from the long-held principle to one that allows for broader revenue streams. 

I disagree with Counter’s contention that JetBlue did not change its business model in the process; in fact, I would say that the first-class/coach standard fare deprives the airline of the more distinctive model, and thus of the associated reputational capital. To be sure, Counter does acknowledge that the change “could alienate the loyal JetBlue flier who now has to walk past (five) rows of a very premium experience.”[4] There we go again! How exactly does a person walk past an experience? Does a person say, “Hey, guess what—yesterday I was out doing errands and I drove right past an experience!” The response is likely to be, “Time for your medication again, dear.”

In actuality, the coach passengers are to walk past rows of more spacious seating arrangements and larger television screens. Putting the matter thusly, rather than artfully and without concrete substance, makes the cost to the airline’s reputational capital transparent—especially with respect to the loyal (i.e., long-standing) passengers who will of course instantly notice the unpalatable change. Such passengers need only look over at Southwest Airline, whose approach to attracting more business passengers was to expand to big-city airports and offer “business select” priority boarding, a free drink, and extra frequent-flier miles rather than introducing a separate class of seating.[5] That is to say, Jetblue managers could have went with alternatives to the old first-class/coach model. The principles that a company supposedly “stands for” are indeed expendable, particularly when they grind up against an untapped source of revenue.

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1. Charisse Jones, “Egalitarian JetBlue Tries Out First Class,” USA Today, June 12, 2014.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Ben Mutzabaugh, “Southwest Finds Itself at a Crossroads,” USA Today, June 30, 2014.

McDonalds and Income Inequality: The Role of Opportunity

In his text, Capital in the Twenty-First Century, Thomas Piketty claims that economic inequality increases societally when the rate of return on capital exceeds the growth rate in national income or GNP. Rather than being an aberration, this condition tends to be the case, the economist contends. To be sure, expanding opportunity can mitigate the increasing inequality, but the “floorboard” is slanted and thus is bound to favor capital over labor. Whereas Marx thought the tendency is unlimited in extent, Piketty argues that at some point the inequality of wealth will stop worsening. This idea seems like Einstein’s thesis that nothing can go faster than the speed of light.  In the light of Piketty’s theory, we can perhaps read more into Don Thompson’s response as workers were protesting the company’s shareholder meeting on May 22, 2014. In short, the CEO illustrates not only a preference for capital over labor in line with ROI>income-increase, but also the weakness in increased opportunity as a mitigating factor.

Thomas Piketty, a European economist specializing on inequality 

(Image Source: The Guardian)

With 800 protesters outside vocalizing their $15-per-hour proposal (“demand” is too strong, and, frankly, rather presumptuous), Thompson told the shareholders, “We respect the fact that they want to challenge us relative to wages.”[1] This rather odd statement essentially relativizes the pressure as “challenging.” In other words, the language is euphemistic. Similarly, it could be said that the CEO is challenged by the English language. Consider, for example, “relative to wages.” How about: “We respect the fact that our hard-working workers want a raise.” Instead, Thompson tried to make the issue about opportunity, as if that effectively counters the inequality. Again being challenged by English, the native speaker told stockholders, “We pay fair and competitive wages and we provide opportunity, and we provide job opportunities and training for those entering the workforce.”[2] McDonalds provides opportunity and job opportunities. How much is Thompson’s total annual compensation?

Even if opening the labor-force up were a sufficient justification for paying $7.25 an hour, only one-third of the company’s non-supervisory employees were on their first job.[3] As one of the protesting workers put it, “McDonalds can keep on saying that we are teenagers, but saying it over and over again doesn’t make it true.”[4] The patina of rhetoric is a rather pallid recipe for reputational capital, particularly if the words run up against the brick wall of actual circumstance. That worker had been working at a McDonald’s restaurant for 10 years at $7.25 per hour. The matter of opportunity was exogenous to her case. Ironically, expanding opportunity could actually be expected to put downward pressure on her wage, or at least keep it from increasing even with experience. That is, even a real push for greater opportunity in terms of opening up the job-force to new aspirants could increase the economic inequality between the corporate managers at the headquarters and the workers in the restaurants.

Put in terms of Piketty’s theory, might it be that greater opportunity might increase the economic inequality in some unforeseen ways? At the very least, Thompson’s attempted pivot to opportunity suggests that it may actually be in line with the interests of capital over labor. The fact that an employee had been kept at $7.25 for ten years even as the company enabled teenagers to enter the workforce hints of the underlying existence of a slanted relationship between capital and labor wherein the rate of return can be expected to exceed the rate of increase in income generally and especially at the non-supervisory levels. Leveling the playing field may be more difficult than Piketty supposes.

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[1] Bruce Horovitz, “McDonalds Plays Offense on Wages,” USA Today, May 23, 2014.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.