3.The Quiet Power of Applied Ethics: Lessons from My Former Employer
One of the most thoughtfully crafted ethics and coaching frameworks I’ve encountered came from my former employer. Their multi-pronged strategy around professional conduct and accountability wasn’t just a compliance checklist—it was a culture builder.
At the heart of it was their “Make Your Conduct Count” initiative, a values-driven approach that encouraged personal reflection and collective responsibility. It wasn’t just about rules—it was about who we chose to be when no one was watching.
Their “Make Your Conduct Count” campaign, paired with immersive scenario-based learning and a deeply human Code of Business Ethics, didn’t preach at you—it asked you to reflect, to feel, to choose. And that’s the quiet power of applied ethics: it doesn’t just stop bad behavior—it cultivates good character.
This matters more than ever. As scholars like Tumasjan and colleagues in 2011 point out, a growing number of corporate scandals and unethical leadership decisions have shattered public trust and revealed how easily power, when unchecked, can corrode entire organizations.
Toxic leadership—marked by manipulation, blame, and exploitation—doesn’t appear overnight; it grows in the spaces where silence replaces integrity, and where no one’s ever been taught to pause and ask, “What kind of leader am I becoming?”
Supporting this was their Code of Business Ethics (COBE) program, which moved far beyond legal jargon. It included immersive, scenario-based learning—complete with drama-inspired sensitivity training that asked you not just to read about ethical gray areas, but to embody them. To sit with discomfort. To navigate a choice that didn’t have a neat answer. The goal wasn’t memorization. It was transformation.
Why does this matter? Because toxic behaviors don’t usually start as violations of policy—they begin as small dismissals of empathy. A casual cruelty. A joke that stings. A blind eye.
What ethics training like this does is interrupt that progression. It slows down reflexive responses. It forces people to think—and feel—before acting. It brings real-life messiness into the classroom and says, “This is what you’re likely to face. Who do you want to be in that moment?”
Ethics training, done right, doesn’t lecture you about doing the right thing. It shows you what happens when people don’t. It builds muscle memory for decency. And in places where dysfunction thrives on silence, ambiguity, and power imbalances, that clarity is powerful.
It’s not just prevention—it’s inoculation. Culture changes when people are given language for discomfort, when they can name harm, when they understand that accountability isn’t the opposite of kindness—it’s the heart of it.
Even their anonymous reporting systems were intentionally designed to reduce fear and build trust. Much like those seen in other large corporations, they offered confidential hotlines, multi-platform access, and built-in protections against retaliation. Because people don’t just want to report—they want to be protected, heard, and treated with dignity.
Even the design of the whistleblowing platform had emotional intelligence baked in. Options for SMS reporting, regional language support, and a tone that said “you’re safe here” made it easier for people to speak up without fearing that they’d pay for their honesty later.
Toxicity often festers in the spaces between silence and fear. But when people are trained to act ethically, when they know the system backs them, when they feel seen, it becomes much harder for corrosive behavior to take root.
That’s the real secret of strong ethics programs—they don’t just prevent bad things from happening. They make it easier for good people to stay good, even when it’s hard. (To be continued)/PN
