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Globall War of Terror - Ethics
Apr. 12th, 2018 02:04 pmGWOT Ethics
Having experienced the practical skills testing, I now wanted to audit the training for guards. So I invited myself to a class titled "Ethics." There was a click-through prerequisite but I skipped that.
Rather to my surprise, the room was full. Also to my surprise most of the people in the room were employees. Only a handful were guards, and those were evenly split between uniforms and normal clothing. There was even a young man wearing a bright pink PRISONER badge, clearly accompanied by a uniformed guard.
I was even more shocked by the instructor. Echo 18. The man, in the flesh. Still limping, but able to move around at the front of the room.
Too bad.
"This is the didactic element for the Ethics course. You all study the core materials on your own. You've had the opportunity to ask questions by E-mail, and those questions submitted prior to the start of this course will be answered for everyone before the end.
"The reason we teach the second half of this course in person is many fold. First is because this material is very simple - so simple you can miss it - but also very complicated. There are many ways in which people rationalize unethical conduct.
"Second is because we need feedback for effective learning. If someone asks a question, it is nearly certain that several people are _thinking_ that question. It is more efficient to do this with everyone present. It also improves the course itself.
"Third is the opportunity to demonstrate courage, by asking questions and challenging the established wisdom. And courage is a fundamental concept in the ethics we are teaching here.
"There are a few other reasons we'll skip over. But each of you is also being evaluated, from the moment you walk into this room. You already took and passed a click-through test, which evaluates knowledge. But what we are looking for is wisdom. Good judgment. Not merely in this room today, but for the rest of your time working for or in service to the Client."
Echo 18 paused for a sip of water. He didn't use a podium, it was pushed out of the way. He did use a reference binder, but he hadn't turned a page yet, so he wasn't just reading from it.
"Why do we waste time on Ethics? That is the first question we usually get, several of you asked it. And each of you, by asking it, is on sudden death probation. If the form of this question has not changed for you by the end of this class, I do not want you carrying a weapon or making a life and death decision for us -- and we will find ways to make sure that you don't have to. You can contribute in other ways. You can code. You can carry a stretcher. You can carry boxes. But not anything that requires an ethical decision."
Faces around the room were shocked.
"Ethics is the science of making morally correct decisions based on a set of values. That's it. You have all studied and passed a test on the Client rules of engagement for use of force. We say several times what that highest value is. Anyone care to guess?"
"Life," one of the Client managers at the front said.
"What kind of life? I like steak and I hate salad. The cow probably disagrees but I don't care and I'm not asking."
"Human life," someone else called out.
"Hmm. I seem to remember shooting a man in the face for trespassing my first week here. That doesn't seem consistent with putting any value on human life, does it? We are conducting weapons training, implementing a corporate militia, armored vehicles, razor wire ... and a young man there in the corner can attest personally to being on the wrong side of our wrath. Try again."
"Affiliate human life," someone read from their materials.
"Correct! We have chosen to pick and choose. That should frighten you. Lots of reasons. One is that you might not be among the chosen. Another is that you might be asked to pull the trigger. Answering that first question as to whether we are wasting your time.
"If you are required to take this class, it is because you are being asked to do something for the Client that involves pulling triggers. It may not be a firearm. It might be who to give lifesaving emergency medical care to first. Or who to fire, knowing that when you fire that person, they AND THEIR FAMILY are invited to the other side of the South Gate, to nearly certain death. Or who to run over with that armored vehicle I mentioned. Heavy stuff.
"I am not wasting your time with the California Penal Code. Or the Constitution of the United States. Or any other bits of law, and I'm disposing of all law related questions here and now. Ask Corporate Legal. Ask me if it's a [Company] question. But remember what I said about good judgment. The Corporation's attorneys are sufficiently certain that what we are doing is legal that they are allowing us to do it -- but they are also requiring us to take this training, have these discussions, and think about the choices we make.
"Who gets to be an affiliate? People who have a defined legal relationship with the Corporation. That's employees, dependents, contractors. We also have guests. I see a few in this room. One is involuntary. Come up to the front, prisoner."
The guard walks the young man up to the front. His arm is splinted and slung and bandaged.
"You are an affiliate of a sort. But I am going to give you a choice, right here and right now. I am required by Client rules of engagement to warn you that this is a deadly force situation and your life is at risk. Do you understand?"
"No," he blurts, and the room starts to laugh but cuts it off. None of the guards are laughing. Echo 18 is especially not laughing.
"We can take as long a time as you need. There is no urgency here. You are not endangering my life or anyone else's, and I have sufficient resources here to keep it that way. But I am going to ask you a series of questions. Answers to these questions could result in you losing your life. Not to me, or to anything I do, but to the conditions of the world in which we are struggling to survive. So I have to warn you, your words carry enormous power. Not over me. Over you. So think before you speak. Now do you understand?"
He hesitates.
"I need a yes or no answer. Do you understand that what you say next could get you killed?"
"Yes," he replies. His legs start to shake. Someone starts to get him a chair, and Echo 18 holds up a hand. Forbidding it.
"My question is very simple. Right now you are a prisoner. You are in our lawful custody for conspiracy to commit murder, cargo theft and commercial burglary during a state of national emergency. As such, you are an affiliate. We will feed you and clothe you and house you, and give you medical care as we can, if you follow our rules. We won't pay you but the only work we ask you to do is to earn your keep, nothing more.
"My question is this -- and it is quite literally a loaded question -- Do you want to stop being a prisoner? Do you want to cease any affiliation with the crazy people who captured you? Do you want to leave out the South Gate and never return?"
His teeth start chattering.
"Sit down. I don't want your answer yet. But before the end of this class I will ask you again."
He almost collapses into an empty chair marked RESERVED at the front. I realize that it was reserved for him. The guard steps well to the side, ready to react if he moves but no longer next to him.
"What I just did was cruel. I forced this man to confront the possibility of his own death. But it was not needlessly cruel. Because it forced each of you to confront the possibility of your own death, or the death of someone you love. If he hadn't volunteered -- by the act of picking up a weapon and attacking this facility -- I would have had to find another volunteer. And given the choice, and what he owes us ... I made my own ethical decision."
I found myself a chair and took a seat at the back. I now deeply regretted not reading the core materials before attending this class.
"Our highest value is the protection of affiliate human life. This is not a figure of speech. It is as literal as the fear of the young man up on this stage, that he could and probably would lose his life deprived of our protection.
"We cannot save everyone. The Corporation cannot take responsibility for millions of people, even if they wanted us to. We can only take care of those people who can help us in turn. We are mutually interdependent. Some of us directly serve the Corporation's objectives. Some of us support the Corporation to make it possible. Whether we write code, take out trash, stand a guard post or bake biscuits, everyone in this room does something that serves the Corporation - even you, prisoner - or you would not be in this room! Or on this site!
"We have to draw the lines somewhere. That line, today, is Affiliate. Affiliated. Connected. Willing to serve and be served. Willing to mutually cooperate for our protection. Willing to do things that frankly we don't want to do.
"I would prefer to have my feet up on a desk, reading military history and sipping iced tea. I feel sure that my boss, in the back of the room, Major Alan Cartwright, would prefer to be doing something other than auditing my class."
Everyone turned and looked at me.
"I think most of the coders would rather work reasonable sixty hour weeks instead of unreasonable one hundred hour weeks. I know the guards would rather work five eight hour shifts instead of six thirteen hour shifts. I am certain that our Site Location Executive would prefer to be playing golf. We are trying to set up a driving range below H1, that's how I know."
A little laughter, but not much.
"Coders gotta code. Bakers gotta bake. And trigger pullers gotta pull triggers. Because if we don't, we don't meet the Corporation's goals ... and today, after the Firecracker, that means we ALL die.
"So the rest of this ethics discussion is the flip side of our highest value, protecting affiliate life. Which is - if necessary! - causing non-affiliate death."
Having experienced the practical skills testing, I now wanted to audit the training for guards. So I invited myself to a class titled "Ethics." There was a click-through prerequisite but I skipped that.
Rather to my surprise, the room was full. Also to my surprise most of the people in the room were employees. Only a handful were guards, and those were evenly split between uniforms and normal clothing. There was even a young man wearing a bright pink PRISONER badge, clearly accompanied by a uniformed guard.
I was even more shocked by the instructor. Echo 18. The man, in the flesh. Still limping, but able to move around at the front of the room.
Too bad.
"This is the didactic element for the Ethics course. You all study the core materials on your own. You've had the opportunity to ask questions by E-mail, and those questions submitted prior to the start of this course will be answered for everyone before the end.
"The reason we teach the second half of this course in person is many fold. First is because this material is very simple - so simple you can miss it - but also very complicated. There are many ways in which people rationalize unethical conduct.
"Second is because we need feedback for effective learning. If someone asks a question, it is nearly certain that several people are _thinking_ that question. It is more efficient to do this with everyone present. It also improves the course itself.
"Third is the opportunity to demonstrate courage, by asking questions and challenging the established wisdom. And courage is a fundamental concept in the ethics we are teaching here.
"There are a few other reasons we'll skip over. But each of you is also being evaluated, from the moment you walk into this room. You already took and passed a click-through test, which evaluates knowledge. But what we are looking for is wisdom. Good judgment. Not merely in this room today, but for the rest of your time working for or in service to the Client."
Echo 18 paused for a sip of water. He didn't use a podium, it was pushed out of the way. He did use a reference binder, but he hadn't turned a page yet, so he wasn't just reading from it.
"Why do we waste time on Ethics? That is the first question we usually get, several of you asked it. And each of you, by asking it, is on sudden death probation. If the form of this question has not changed for you by the end of this class, I do not want you carrying a weapon or making a life and death decision for us -- and we will find ways to make sure that you don't have to. You can contribute in other ways. You can code. You can carry a stretcher. You can carry boxes. But not anything that requires an ethical decision."
Faces around the room were shocked.
"Ethics is the science of making morally correct decisions based on a set of values. That's it. You have all studied and passed a test on the Client rules of engagement for use of force. We say several times what that highest value is. Anyone care to guess?"
"Life," one of the Client managers at the front said.
"What kind of life? I like steak and I hate salad. The cow probably disagrees but I don't care and I'm not asking."
"Human life," someone else called out.
"Hmm. I seem to remember shooting a man in the face for trespassing my first week here. That doesn't seem consistent with putting any value on human life, does it? We are conducting weapons training, implementing a corporate militia, armored vehicles, razor wire ... and a young man there in the corner can attest personally to being on the wrong side of our wrath. Try again."
"Affiliate human life," someone read from their materials.
"Correct! We have chosen to pick and choose. That should frighten you. Lots of reasons. One is that you might not be among the chosen. Another is that you might be asked to pull the trigger. Answering that first question as to whether we are wasting your time.
"If you are required to take this class, it is because you are being asked to do something for the Client that involves pulling triggers. It may not be a firearm. It might be who to give lifesaving emergency medical care to first. Or who to fire, knowing that when you fire that person, they AND THEIR FAMILY are invited to the other side of the South Gate, to nearly certain death. Or who to run over with that armored vehicle I mentioned. Heavy stuff.
"I am not wasting your time with the California Penal Code. Or the Constitution of the United States. Or any other bits of law, and I'm disposing of all law related questions here and now. Ask Corporate Legal. Ask me if it's a [Company] question. But remember what I said about good judgment. The Corporation's attorneys are sufficiently certain that what we are doing is legal that they are allowing us to do it -- but they are also requiring us to take this training, have these discussions, and think about the choices we make.
"Who gets to be an affiliate? People who have a defined legal relationship with the Corporation. That's employees, dependents, contractors. We also have guests. I see a few in this room. One is involuntary. Come up to the front, prisoner."
The guard walks the young man up to the front. His arm is splinted and slung and bandaged.
"You are an affiliate of a sort. But I am going to give you a choice, right here and right now. I am required by Client rules of engagement to warn you that this is a deadly force situation and your life is at risk. Do you understand?"
"No," he blurts, and the room starts to laugh but cuts it off. None of the guards are laughing. Echo 18 is especially not laughing.
"We can take as long a time as you need. There is no urgency here. You are not endangering my life or anyone else's, and I have sufficient resources here to keep it that way. But I am going to ask you a series of questions. Answers to these questions could result in you losing your life. Not to me, or to anything I do, but to the conditions of the world in which we are struggling to survive. So I have to warn you, your words carry enormous power. Not over me. Over you. So think before you speak. Now do you understand?"
He hesitates.
"I need a yes or no answer. Do you understand that what you say next could get you killed?"
"Yes," he replies. His legs start to shake. Someone starts to get him a chair, and Echo 18 holds up a hand. Forbidding it.
"My question is very simple. Right now you are a prisoner. You are in our lawful custody for conspiracy to commit murder, cargo theft and commercial burglary during a state of national emergency. As such, you are an affiliate. We will feed you and clothe you and house you, and give you medical care as we can, if you follow our rules. We won't pay you but the only work we ask you to do is to earn your keep, nothing more.
"My question is this -- and it is quite literally a loaded question -- Do you want to stop being a prisoner? Do you want to cease any affiliation with the crazy people who captured you? Do you want to leave out the South Gate and never return?"
His teeth start chattering.
"Sit down. I don't want your answer yet. But before the end of this class I will ask you again."
He almost collapses into an empty chair marked RESERVED at the front. I realize that it was reserved for him. The guard steps well to the side, ready to react if he moves but no longer next to him.
"What I just did was cruel. I forced this man to confront the possibility of his own death. But it was not needlessly cruel. Because it forced each of you to confront the possibility of your own death, or the death of someone you love. If he hadn't volunteered -- by the act of picking up a weapon and attacking this facility -- I would have had to find another volunteer. And given the choice, and what he owes us ... I made my own ethical decision."
I found myself a chair and took a seat at the back. I now deeply regretted not reading the core materials before attending this class.
"Our highest value is the protection of affiliate human life. This is not a figure of speech. It is as literal as the fear of the young man up on this stage, that he could and probably would lose his life deprived of our protection.
"We cannot save everyone. The Corporation cannot take responsibility for millions of people, even if they wanted us to. We can only take care of those people who can help us in turn. We are mutually interdependent. Some of us directly serve the Corporation's objectives. Some of us support the Corporation to make it possible. Whether we write code, take out trash, stand a guard post or bake biscuits, everyone in this room does something that serves the Corporation - even you, prisoner - or you would not be in this room! Or on this site!
"We have to draw the lines somewhere. That line, today, is Affiliate. Affiliated. Connected. Willing to serve and be served. Willing to mutually cooperate for our protection. Willing to do things that frankly we don't want to do.
"I would prefer to have my feet up on a desk, reading military history and sipping iced tea. I feel sure that my boss, in the back of the room, Major Alan Cartwright, would prefer to be doing something other than auditing my class."
Everyone turned and looked at me.
"I think most of the coders would rather work reasonable sixty hour weeks instead of unreasonable one hundred hour weeks. I know the guards would rather work five eight hour shifts instead of six thirteen hour shifts. I am certain that our Site Location Executive would prefer to be playing golf. We are trying to set up a driving range below H1, that's how I know."
A little laughter, but not much.
"Coders gotta code. Bakers gotta bake. And trigger pullers gotta pull triggers. Because if we don't, we don't meet the Corporation's goals ... and today, after the Firecracker, that means we ALL die.
"So the rest of this ethics discussion is the flip side of our highest value, protecting affiliate life. Which is - if necessary! - causing non-affiliate death."
