Is it time for an ethics check-up?
by Matt May
Happy 2024! I wasn’t going to write something this week, but it’s a new year, and if you’re looking for the “new you” to go along with that, here’s something you might want to think about.
It’s been almost 10 months since I declared myself semi-retired, and I love everything about it except the pay. 😉 My stress level has dropped significantly, which is reflected in my overall health. I get a decent night’s sleep every night. I’m cooking my own food rather than going out once or twice a day. And conveniently, all the stuff I bought as retail therapy to cope with showing up to work—camera gear, games, art supplies, tools, books—are all getting used regularly, where once they were opened and promptly forgotten.
Part of the process of moving on from a job you’ve done for a long time is decoupling who you are from what the job required you to be. For example, as a corporate spokesperson, one is trained not to say what one feels, or what may reflect negatively on the company (or be legally actionable), in public. That’s the tradeoff. There have been times where I listened to a disabled stakeholder explain their issues with a product, but I couldn’t even tell them that I agreed with them. Or that I had already been advocating for their issue internally. Or in some cases, that I knew what they wanted wasn’t going to happen.
The term “moral injury” describes the harm that occurs when your work forces you into situations that are counter to your own morality. I will say, compared to the stories others have told me, I’ve had it relatively easy. But after 25 years in the field, all the little things add up, and moral injury is a pathway to burnout. I have experienced it first-hand. So far, the most liberating part of stepping away from tech have been that I don’t have to worry how the things I want to say will reflect upon anyone but myself, or whether the value of my work is measurable enough to a large corporation.
The truth is, I haven’t ruled out working for another company in the future. However, I do have a number of restrictions on what I will give away in that transaction. I have also ruled out a couple companies permanently, based on what kind of outcomes I could be enabling by helping them succeed. For example, one large company had an opening that sounded great, and paid well. But it’s also a company I’ve seen hype project after project, only for all that work to amount to little or nothing before they’re cut to boost the bottom line. Being asked to do work you care about personally that has no chance of making a difference to your organization is a form of moral injury.
One of the most common conversations I’ve had in my office hours goes like this: I’ve tried everything to get my org to care about inclusion work, but they’re still just doing the bare minimum. I’m at my wit’s end. What do I do?
As inclusion professionals, we see folks tell us constantly how easy it is to make headway: all we do is march right up to the CEO and tell them how much money they’re losing by forgetting (group here), and hit them with how good it’d be for the brand, and don’t forget, it’s the law, but it’s also the right thing to do. And then watch that sweet, sweet discretionary budget roll in.
Well, lots of people didn’t have that experience when talking to their executives. In fact, many of them experienced the same biases they were fighting against. They were brushed off, ignored, told it wasn’t worth it, the market’s too small, there’s just so much to do, and anyway, we’re in a hurry to get this out the door, but yeah, come back later when we’re planning the next release, k? How’s the 32nd of Nevember?
The one surefire answer is easy: quit. Get the hell out of there. But obviously, it’s a lot more difficult when accounting for people’s financial security, legal status in the country where they work, need for health insurance or work accommodations, the job market where they live, etc. We often walk a fine line between living our values and toeing the company line, and being able to walk away from it all is an extremely privileged position. Most of us are required to face moral hazard of some kind in order to make a living. And that sucks.
There are some absolute ground truths to understand here. First, there is no magic incantation that will melt the iciest executive’s heart. If your big boss sees you as an obstacle to a slightly larger yacht, then you’ll be out the door sooner or later. And in 2023, if you look around at the DEI space in tech, a lot of execs showed they like yachting more than they do equity work.
You should also be aware that there are lots of ways to say “no” in tech leadership, that sound like “yes.” It sounds like “maybe later,” or “it’s on our roadmap.” It sounds like “let’s be pragmatic,” or “let’s get legal to weigh in,” or “engineering is scoping it out.” It sounds like “why don’t we just”: run a survey, hire a contractor, ask the employee resource group, use an overlay.
When you’re the first one to be the victim of the fake yes, it might be prudent to give the team a chance to show up; when you’re the fourth, or it’s year 5 and they’re still making the same excuses, I have something to tell you: it’s probably not you. It’s probably them. Some organizations have learned how to placate their internal advocates by stringing them along. And when that becomes the norm, and your role is reduced to cheerleading for lost causes, it’s worth seeing if you can sell your labor to someone else who will do some good with it.
I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you cannot be the conscience of an entire organization. You will feel collective failures as individual ones, which means you will suffer for ongoing lapses that are out of your control. And worse, you won’t be able to fall back on your own community for support, because they won’t see the difference between you and your organization, either.
So. It’s the New Year. You may be thinking about your plan for the year, or your resolutions. If you’re wondering what you need to do differently in 2024, I think you should ask yourself these questions:
What am I giving to the organization, beyond my labor? Am I comfortable lending my reputation to the organization, and is it fairly recognized and rewarded?
What organizational/product outcomes am I enabling? Which ones am I able to influence, and which are out of reach?
Is the impact of my work superficial, or systemic? What would the organization do differently if I weren’t here?
You can do this work on your own, and I think it’s worth doing at least once a year, or whenever your circumstances change significantly. If you want to work through it with someone, you can book time with me and we’ll unravel what you can do to align your personal and career objectives. In any case, the start of a new year is a great opportunity to stop and listen to your own intuition about where you are, and think about where you’re going.
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Thanks, everyone. Let’s make it a great 2024.