Ethical Issues in Emergency Management Policy
Ernest Partridge, Research Associate
Cooperative Institute for Research in the Environmental Sciences
and the Institute of Behavioral Sciences
University of Colorado
Managing Disaster: Strategies and Policy Perspectives.
Edited by Louise K. Comfort
Duke University Press, 1988
With Permission of the Publisher
This essay is almost twice as long as
the published version, which excluded all of the first and
most of the second sections. It has benefited from the
comments and criticisms of Louise Comfort, Clement Shearer of
the US Geological Survey, and Max Wyss and Carl Kisslinger of
CIRES (University of Colorado).
I gratefully
acknowledge support of the National Science Foundation, Program
in Ethics and Values in Science and Technology (EVIST), award
No. RII-8210282). The views expressed herein are those of
the author, and do not necessarily reflect the positions and
policies of the sponsoring agencies.
I. The Myth of "Value-Free Policy Science"
We begin with an affirmation that there are "ethical
issues in emergency management policy." This may seem a strange and
pointless recitation of the obvious. Public officials, crisis
managers, public safety personnel, and others directly involved with
hazards and disasters need not he reminded that, in the performance
of their respective roles and duties, they will be faced with
compelling, crucial and forced ethical choices involving the
protection and even the saving of lives and property. They face
these choices in all phases of emergency, mitigation, preparedness,
response and recovery -- that is to
say, before, during and after disasters. These choices, regarding
how they will act in the anticipation and in the event of min
emergency, are unavoidably laden with values.
And yet, many theorists (notably some economists and political
scientists) have attempted to "simplify" and even eliminate "ethical
issues" from policy analysis by reducing "values" to some
arrangement of facts or empirical concepts, such as "cost/benefit
ratios" or "preferences" or "cultural norms." Such so-called
"positive" criteria of value have the apparent advantage of
precision and determinateness. However, since these criteria are
also irrelevant to the solution of ethical questions, these
"advantages" count for little in policy deliberations. Nonetheless,
when scholarly experts are appointed to government research
commissions or invited before committees of Congress to present
their opinions regarding disaster management policy, economists,
engineers and others are conspicuous in the rosters -- and
appropriately so. Moral and Analytical Philosophers, however,
generally remain at their campuses, ignored and uninvited. Few
grants in disaster policy studies are awarded to moral philosophers.1
Why this neglect of the philosophical aspects of public policy? An
exploration of that question might reveal fundamental misconceptions
and errors in the theory and practice of emergency policy making.
There are, of course, many apparent reasons for this official
indifference to philosophical opinion. Philosophers rarely express
themselves with numbers and equations, while policymakers admire
precision. Philosophers are concerned with values, conceptual
clarity, and logical validity, while policy-makers generally prefer
to be given "just the facts, please." In addition, political leaders
and legislators reflect the widespread public belief that "morality"
(including ethical issues of public interest) are "private matters,"
and that there are no "moral experts," except possibly clergymen. Most generally and most significantly, congressional committees,
executive commissions, policy study groups, and funding agencies,
seek answers, while philosophers are widely considered (not without
justification), to be more interested in raising questions than in
finding answers and settling issues.
Granting all this, I shall argue that the exclusion of philosophers
from policy debates and decision-making is a serious error,
resulting in policy that is less likely to deserve public support or
to serve the public interest.
Policy debate and study is obviously prompted by an
acute and practical desire to search for answers that are as clear
and definitive as limited time and resources will allow. In search
thereof, legislators and administrators have looked to those
disciplines and professions whose work has been characterized by
precise and "settled" results -- namely, the sciences and
engineering. The "harder" the sciences (i.e., more quantitative,
with more precisely operational and empirical vocabularies, more
definitive experimental designs, etc.) the better --- better
physical science than biological, better biological than behavioral
, better behavioral than social . In short , science, and the
facts
of science, present the model of solid, confirmable, cumulative
knowledge.2 Values, in contrast, are regarded as vague and
subjective, and thus the source of interminable dispute.. Accordingly, a dominant faction of
legislators and
administrators, and even policy theorists assume that when the time
has come to hear the experts, moral philosophers need not apply.
The effort to exclude moral philosophers and
normative values from policy considerations may be found in the
published record of policy makers and theorists extending
back to the previous generation and beyond. Though the literature on
this topic in extensive, space constraints forbid further explaration.3
Like most important errors, the myth of "value-free
policy science" issues from a kernel of truth. It is true that the
content of the propositions of physical science is value free
(though not the objectives or the activity of science4). Physical
facts are just facts, independent of human preferences, ideals and
ideology. Communist missiles and capitalist missiles obey the same
laws of trajectory, and the strain energy accumulating along the
San Andreas Fault will not yield by a single erg to accommodate
the hopes, plans and expectations of those who dwell within its
proximity. This is the kernel of truth from which the seekers of
"value free policy science" proceed straightway to their
misconception and error. These "policy positivists," as we might
call them, are further encouraged along this thoroughfare by what
they perceive as an "extension," since the renaissance, of
value-free science from the empirical study of energy (physics) and
matter (chemistry), to life (biology) , and thence to society and
politics and human behavior. By this account:, all of these realms
of being have, in their turn, yielded their secrets to the objective
and value--free inquiry of the sciences, and thus our understanding
of these
realms has been annexed and integrated into the expanding empire of
science. Within sight of the borders of science is the autonomous
province of values (ethics) --- which will, in due course, be
assimilated as well. Indeed, some believe that the capitulation has
already taken place. Thus, B. F. Skinner writes:
When we say that a value judgment is a matter not of fact but of how
someone feels about a fact, we are simply distinguishing between a
thing and its reinforcing effect. . . Reinforcing effects of things
are the province of behavioral science, which to the extent that it
is concerned with operant reinforcement, is a science of values.5
Positivistic policy theorists whose imaginations are
captured red by
this image might propose that we to "expand the borders" from,
say, a scientific account off the geophysics of earthquakes
(seismology), to a capacity to predict earthquakes, to a
"description," in the light of such knowledge and predictions, of
"optimal" preparations for, responses to, and recoveries from
earthquakes. All these activities -- geophysical research,
prediction, and hazard policy formulation -- are, claim the
positivists, alike in the principle of being "value-free." They
differ only in their degrees of certainty and verifiability. (Similar examples might be drawn from other types of natural
hazards, and their associated sciences and policies).
This image of the "expanding empire of value-free science" however
appealing, is fundamentally mistaken -- not because of a
miscalculation of the extent of our knowledge (present and
anticipated), but because of a basic misunderstanding of the
concept of "policy," of the activity of "policy-making" and of the
logic of ethical judgment. Values, and the policies which
incorporate, exemplify and enact them, are not simply inchoate
"facts" that we have not quite "tied down" with scientific method
and theory; they are of a different logical type than facts. comparing facts and values is not like
"comparing apples and
oranges" it is more like comparing apples and logarithmic
functions.
Policy--making is fundamentally a value-laden activity. To see that
this is so, and why this is so, we need only analyze the concept of
"policy." After encountering numerous descriptions, conceptions,
definitions and theories of "policy-making," I have concluded that,
at the very least, "policy" can be defined as "a general decision,
arrived at deliberately and stated explicitly, which is intended to bind and direct future activities and investments
(in funds, time and energy) of the decisionmaker(s)." Implicit in
the term "decision," is a belief in the availability of discriminable
options. (One does not "decide" to do that which is
perceived to be impossible, or inevitable). More might be said to
better capture the essence of the concept of "policy" --- more, but
not less."
Policy-making is not only an exercise in choosing, it: involves
choices among graded options, which is to say that some of these
options will be judged to be "preferable" to others and (presumably)
the option chosen will be judged "optimal." Furthermore, these
options are "graded" (at least in part) according to how each are
judged to affect the welfare, the rights, and the responsibilities
of persons, and how effectively these options are judged to
accomplish these and other presupposed value objectives. At the
close of his deliberations the policy-maker says, in effect, "having
evaluated the available options, I propose that we should do the
following..." In sum, by "policy-making" we mean, at the very least,
a deliberative choice among graded options, each of which will
variably affect the welfare and the rights of human beings.
That. definition effectively entails that this activity is
"value-laden.''
"Very well," the critic replies, "you have shown that policy
decisions are fundamentally evaluative. What yon have not shown
is that: the premises can not be entirely factual and descriptive. But if policy conclusions are entirely evaluative, that is of no
matter so long as the premises are factual. In that case, we will
have a 'science of policy' after all."
The critic's rejoinder is unavailing, due to an elementary rule of
formal logic; "no term can appear in the conclusion that
is absent from the premises." The terms in question are "ought,"
"should,"
or "best" (or any synonyms thereof) -- terms which characterize
value statements. Sentences in which these terms are present (at
least implicitly) can not be purely descriptive and factual. It
follows then that if an evaluative ("ought") statement appears as
the conclusion of a valid argument, there must be an "ought
statement" among the premises. Accordingly, if the policy-maker
is to arrive at a policy decision by means of valid reasoning, he
must assume at least one evaluative premise.6
If, as we have argued, evaluation is intrinsic to policymaking, then
a deliberate attempt to avoid evaluation will result in policies
that are uncritical, simplistic, dogmatic, conservative -- and,
ironically, value-laden. As Loren R. Graham observes, "if you
insist that science and values do not mix, then the antecedent
values of society are protected."7
In the face of such philosophical criticisms as these, the tide of
positivism has begun to recede, as ever more policymakers and
theorists have come to acknowledge that however "'messy" ethical
considerations may be, normative values are nonetheless inalienable
to policy debate and decision-making. Interdisciplinary
courtesy, exchange and collaboration among philosophers, economists,
political scientists and other scholars as becoming more evident in
the proliferating
"Centers" of policy study, throughout the country.8 What remains to
be seen is whether this new philosophical sophistication among
academic researchers in policy studies will find its way into the
deliberations of practicing policy-makers and policy administrators,
in the various branches and levels of government.
To summarize:
Values are admittedly less objective, less
determinate, and more controversial than facts, though many
philosophers (including this one) deny that they are entirely
subjective and indeterminate. But however "messy" values may be, an
analysis of the concept of "policy" and an examination of the
essential nature of policy-making will show that both values and
facts are necessary to policy-making, and thus neither are
sufficient by themselves. Like it or not, when we engage in policy
deliberations and come to policy conclusions, we must, to some
degree, engage in moral philosophy. But while we cannot, as
policy-makers, escape moral philosophy (at least implicitly), what
we can escape, and all too often do escape, are well-considered,
critical and informed moral decision-making. If we must, as
policy-makers, policy critics and policy implementers, engage in
moral philosophizing, then we had best do it well. The moral
philosopher is prepared to contribute to this enterprise, not by
simply prescribing policy decisions, but by assisting those who must
make these decisions, so that these decisions might be clear,
coherent, consistent, comprehensive, informed, and in harmony with
our most enduring, cherished and universal moral convictions. Accordingly, it is past time to invite the philosophers from their
campuses, to participate in policy deliberations.
II - A Critic's Response -- and a Rebuttal
Our critic has yet another objection: "I will concede the logic of
this argument, but I will not concede that your argument makes an
appreciable difference to disaster mitigation policy. Yes, policy
conclusions are normative, and this means that if the arguments in
support thereof are to be formally valid, the premises must contain
value assertions. That much I will grant you. However, those
normative premises in disaster mitigation policy are so clear,
simple, obvious and non-controversial, that there is no need to call
upon the philosophers to help us arrive at our policy conclusions. In fact, there is really only one normative premise involved in
policies of disaster preparation, mitigation and response, and it is
simply this: 'It is desirable to minimize losses of life and
property.' Now who could dispute that premise? If everyone agrees
with that (and for all practical and political purposes, everybody
does), and that is all the value assumption involved in disaster
management planning, then all that remains is to assemble, assess
and deal with the relevant facts and then choose from among our
options on the bases of those facts and the above indisputable
'value premise.' No need for philosophers here."
A moment's reflection will show that even that premise is anything
but "simple, straightforward and uncontroversial." Neither is it the
only ethical premise in emergency management
policy, as this paper should make clear. However, let us, for the
moment, confine our attention to this acknowledged value premise and
ask if this premise is, as claimed, "simple, obvious and
non-controversial"? Though it may seem so at the surface, once we
"unpack" the meanings and entailments of this assumption, we will
find that these components are anything but "simple, obvious and
non-controversial."
The first item of controversy is immediately before us in the
phrase, "life and property." That phrase indicates that the premise
is not "simple," but compound -- "lives and property." Still worse,
disaster policy and disaster management decisions often involve
"lives versus property." (For example, strict building codes in
seismically hazardous areas will enhance the safety of the occupants
of the buildings, at the cost of increasing the prices and the rents
of these structures). In addition, decisions regarding the
protection of lives and property are weighed according to a variety
of separate scales of evaluation; such as costs and benefits
(dollars), risks (probabilities), time (hours to years).
"Don't we all agree that we can't put a price on human life?" But
in fact we do price lives and, on reflection, it seems that we
should -- at least implicitly. If the value of life were to
have absolute priority over all other values (in addition to property,
such values as convenience, comfort, and aesthetics), then all
structures in seismically active areas would be limited to a single
story, and would have fabric roofs. Furthermore, the law would
totally prohibit the use of alcohol and tobacco, and such activities
as sky-diving, hang-gliding and river-running. Cars would be built
like Sherman tanks, and limited to a speed of fifteen miles an hour,
and so on. On the other hand, we are not utterly casual about the
value of life: the law often regulates construction in hazardous
areas, and we do, in fact, enact and enforce traffic and drug laws. Where, then, do we "draw the line" between the value of life and
property? The answer is anything but "simple, obvious and noncontroversial."
"Protect property"? But when? Now or later? Building a levee to
protect an area from a one hundred year flood may not be a
cost-effective gamble, if assessed over a period of ten years. But
over a period of two hundred years, it may be a prudent investment. The decision rests upon the balancing of short-term costs against
long-term benefits, which depends, in turn, upon how much or how
little the remote future is "discounted."9 The levee will probably
benefit future generations, but not our own. "What do we owe
posterity -- what has posterity ever done for us?" Have we an answer
to that cynical taunt? If we do, that answer is based (at least
implicitly) upon some moral convictions and an ethical theory.
Is hazard policy designed to "protect lives"? Of course. But
whose
lives? Variable attitudes toward risk and disaster
response will affect different persons and save different lives. For
instance, when it comes to disaster response, the public is
generally far more inclined to spend "pounds" for "cures" than to
invest "ounces" for prevention. Enormous amounts of public funds are
readily procured and willingly spent to save and relieve the victims
of disasters, after these disasters have struck. And yet, had but a
fraction of these resources been invested in preparations for the
disaster, many of the victims thereof would have avoided injury or
have been been spared their lives and property -- including, of
course, those in whose behalf heroic rescue efforts were made after
the event. In short, determinate present casualties seem to "matter"
far more than indeterminate future casualties -- thus different, and
additional lives are lost. This is how the public and its chosen
officials normally respond to the anticipation and the actuality of
emergencies. As a result, different (and fewer!) lives in fact
protected. Is this a rational response? Is it a moral response?
If we assume, as seems apparent, that this public response to "the
prevention/cure problem" is irrational, an urgent problem of
political morality immediately arises: does the legislator,
policy-maker, and policy-administrator, have a right to act "in the
public interest," when that act is contrary to "the public will" and
"public opinion"? Or must public officials, on the contrary, yield
to the willingness of the general public to be irrational? One clear
implication, perhaps, is that policymakers and public officials
should join in a concerted efforts to improve public awareness and
education regarding hazards. (We will return to this urgent question
near the close of this section).
Further problems of political and social morality arise out of
policies of hazard mitigation and response. Suppose a majority of
the public supports hazard mitigation policies that are both
rational and appropriate? What claims does the majority have upon
the dissenting and irrational minority? If, for example, the
community decides to protect itself by building a levee, can it make
legitimate claims upon the owner of riverfront property who has
elected to "opt out" of the project? Thus we encounter the familiar
but vexing problems of "the free rider" and "eminent domain." Unrestricted "eminent
domain" implies a communistic system that precludes all property
rights, while unrestricted property rights threaten to dissolve a
"community" into an aggregation of isolated egoists. The problem of
"eminent domain" is a species of a larger moral issue: the right of
the individual to assume the responsibility of protecting his own
life and property versus the right of the community to claim the
resources of the individual in behalf of the common good. Balances
must be struck between these competing claims. Where they are to be
struck is a function of the values that are placed upon these
claims.
What "level" of political power is to assume the responsibility for
protecting lives and property from natural
disasters? Local? State? Federal? Each level
entails a mix of advantages and disadvantages. "Central authority" can be
"efficient," but at a price in personal freedom and responsibility
that few American would be willing to pay. Thus disaster planners
"have had to contend with the fundamental distrust with which
citizens and business interests view central planning." Local
authority is "closer to the people," but lacks necessary resources
and expertise, or the ability to respond appropriately to a regional
disaster that also affects an area beyond its jurisdiction. "Compromise" distributions of powers among various agencies create
further problems, such as "horizontal" rivalries that impede
information flow, and "vertical" bottlenecks among levels of
authority that impede implementation.10 In short, the choice of a
political arrangement to manage disasters must entail an evaluation
and a weighing of a number of political, social, economic and
personal costs, risks and benefits. Once again, how these factors
are weighed is a function of the values assigned thereto --
assigned, for example, to local autonomy vs. efficiency, individual
initiative vs. interference by "experts," etc.
Such talk of "balances" between an array of "costs, risks and
benefits" suggests that the "optimal" policy would be that which
would result in the highest net gain in benefits (or, given no
favorable option, the lowest net loss in costs). This approach to
policy-making, which is attractive to many economists and
legislators, will be recognized at once by the moral philosopher as
a species of the ethical theory of utilitarianism. That philosopher
will also warn the policy-maker that a simple assessment of net
utility may not suffice to validate public policy, since such
assessments do not readily include the fundamental moral
consideration of rights; notably such rights to equity,
justice and
due process. The question of "rights" adds to the consideration of
"total" or ("aggregate") utility, the question of
distributive justice -- i.e., whose "benefits"
and whose "costs" and whose "risks?" In simple assessments and
comparisons of aggregate costs and benefits, (with "values" often
conveniently commensurated as "prices,") individuals are "factored
out.11 "Rights," the critic of utilitarianism will urge, attach to
individuals in recognition of their intrinsic worth as persons. Rights are the moral ground upon which individuals may stand and
defend their interests and integrity against the demands of
aggregate utility.12 And yet, in the search for objectivity and
precision, rights are all too easily overlooked in
"cost/risk/benefit" assessments of emergency management policy.
Accordingly, the critic of utilitarian "cost/risk/benefit analysis"
asks, whose "costs"? Southern Californians, now enjoying sunshine,
hot tubs, and other amenities of their life-styles, will, for the
most part, accept without hesitation disaster relief from the other
forty-nine states, when the next great earthquake strikes.13 Were
they not assured of this assistance, many Californians might be
unwilling to live in this hazardous
area. Is it fair that other Americans thus subsidize their
life-style?
Whose "benefits"? What if "benefits" accrue to those who do not pay
the costs that attend or produce these benefits. What is to be done
with "free riders" who are miserly when time, effort and funds are
solicited for hazard preparation and mitigation, but who are to be
found in the queue when relief benefits are being distributed? It
has often been noted that much of the problem of air and water
pollution might be mitigated if the owners and managers of the
polluting industries were required to live and work downwind and
downstream of their industries -- thus, as the economist puts it,
"internalizing the costs." Should developers who profit from
construction in flood plains and seismic zones be required to live
there?
What "risks"? No one will contend that environmental hazards and
technological risks can be totally eliminated. The constant presence
of risk is an inescapable price of civilized life, just as the
reduction of risk is a dividend of civilized life. But "risk" is not
a simple concept -- it is a family of concepts. "Risks" are
voluntary and involuntary, informed and uninformed, avoidable and
unavoidable, and of variable probability and consequence. Questions
of how these different species of "risks" are to be assessed,
balanced and apportioned are deeply and inalienably moral questions.
As these questions proliferate, we find that they display the
qualities of what are called "tragic choices." First of all, they
are, in William James' words, momentous, they present live options,
and they are forced (i.e., "to do nothing," is to make a significant
choice). Furthermore, these choices are among exclusive "goods" (we
can't have them all), and (more seriously) among unavoidable "bads"
(necessary evils). Emergency management policy gives us a stark and
compelling reminder that the "sunday school view" of morality as a
"contest between good and evil" is radically restrictive and
short-sighted. In the face of impending and actual catastrophes,
good intentions and moral stamina, however important, will not
suffice to give us the "best" decisions. Relevant information and
moral intelligence are also required.
How are these ethical questions of disaster policy to be settled? In
behalf of whose interests and preferences? Whose "perspective" upon
these policy issues is to have precedent? Here we touch a
theoretical "nerve" of the philosophical analysis of public policy. The problem of the "point of view" of hazards policy pervades this
entire volume, thus saturating these discussions, and this issue,
with ethical significance.
Each "point of view" generates a different policy. As the literature
of hazards studies testifies, "ordinary citizens" living in
hazardous areas generally do not, before the occurrence of natural
disasters, act in their own best interests. In such
circumstances it appears that well-known psychological mechanisms of
denial interfere with and defeat proposals to invest appropriate
amounts of time, funds and concern before the event. (Risa Palm's
important study reveals that in California, neither home buyers, or
appraisers, or lending institutions set prices that reflect seismic
hazards. "In sum,: she writes, "the housing market has accepted
[seismic risk] zonation with a giant yawn").14 Thus we find that
public preference and opinion is usually at odds with public
interest. Because of this discrepancy between preference and
interest, hazards professionals seeking to serve the public interest
must often strain at the limits of democratic legitimacy, and act in
a manner that might be described as "paternalistic." What point of
view justifies this behavior? Perhaps the point of view of the
hypothetical disaster victim. From this perspective, the hazards
policy-maker and policy implementer acts, before a disaster, as the
citizen suffering from the disaster would have him act. But wouldn't
such a point of view be overly cautious and conservative? After all,
the vast majority of our days are disaster-free. Perhaps the optimum
point of view would be that of a hypothetical individual who
possesses general knowledge regarding risks, costs, benefits, and
his basic needs and desires as a human being, but who is denied
knowledge of the particular times and circumstances of his life. The
"point of view" of such an hypothetical observer would thus
encompass the perspectives of both the anguished victim and the
complacent citizen in pre-disaster conditions. Such a hypothetical
point of view is proposed by John Rawls in his celebrated and
esteemed work, A Theory of Justice.
The question of "point of view" is one of the most fundamental
issues of moral philosophy. It is also implicit (and often explicit)
in all policy theory and policy practice, for it is a ground of
legitimacy for such theory and practice. As the "point of view"
changes, so then does the policy. A point of view fundamentally
affects one's assessment of the values of life and property (in our
opening "value premise"), as "life" and "property" are variously
encountered and evaluated in a myriad of differing contexts and
circumstances (e.g., present-life, future-life, determinate-life,
indeterminate-life, secure-life, endangered-life, etc.).
This is but a partial list of morally controversial problems that
are generated by an analysis of the seemingly "simple, obvious and
non-controversial" premise that the moral objective of emergency
management policy is to "minimize losses of life and property." A
continuation of this list, and of an analysis of the implications of
that premise, would exhaust the remaining available space of this
paper, leaving the task still uncompleted. All this from the
allegedly "single" acknowledged normative premise conceded by our
critic. There are many more normative assumptions and ethical issues
in hazard management policy, as we shall now illustrate with a
hypothetical situation that may well be faced in the near future.
III -- "The Pasadena Paradigm"
Imagine that an ad hoc emergency meeting of select members of the
Seismology faculty and staff has assembled at the California
Institute of Technology in Pasadena. Also in attendance are
seismologists from other campuses, from the USGS office in Menlo
Park and from appropriate state and local offices. The meeting is a
response to some ominous data that has just arrived from field
studies along the San Andreas fault, some fifty kilometers to the
north. These studies report alarming changes in data that was
heretofore quite stable over the years and decades. They now report
releases of radon gas in deep wells and mines, (and/or) changes in
water tables, (and/or) quiescence in an asperity zone, surrounded by
micro-quakes, (and/or) crustal deformation along the fault, (and/or)
a drop and then a rise in P-wave velocities. (The parenthetical
"and/or" indicates the author's desire to remain neutral regarding
various theories of earthquake prediction, none of which need be
assumed or preferred in this
scenario).
We- assume that at the time of this hypothetical meeting, earthquake
prediction theory will have advanced to the point that a consensus
can be reached regarding the implications of these findings. (While
the science is not currently at this state, that accomplishment is
plausibly near enough to be taken very seriously). That consensus is
that the next great earthquake in southern California is about to
take place, and that it will, in effect, be a repetition of the Fort Tejon earthquake of January 9, 1857.15 The prediction contains the
following basic
components:
Magnitude: 8.3
Epicenter: Tejon Pass
Time: Four weeks in the future, ħone week16
Probability: 60%
We have imagined, to this point, an exercise in applied science. Surely everyone in that conference room in Pasadena is appalled by
this finding, though fully aware that such an event is "due". Each
person assembled there devoutly wishes that the evidence indicated
otherwise. But as good scientists, they all acknowledge that their
preferences are irrelevant to the seismological data before them;
the San Andreas fault will not alter its alignment by a millimeter
to accommodate these preferences. In that sense, these facts are
totally detached from the values of those who recorded them, and by
those to be affected by them. However, once these scientific
assessments, analyses and projections have been made, the values
enter in, and with them, disaster management specialists. And so,
two days later, key members of the first meeting reconvene, with
invited experts in the theory and practice of emergency management. The first question of ethical import is obvious, and compelling:
"What are we to do with this information and this prediction?" That
question, as we shall see, generates a large list of additional ethical questions, the most immediate of which is "shall we disclose our
findings to the public, or shall we withhold them?" (Here the problem of "lives
versus property," noted above, arises again). The following decision
grid of four cells results from the intersection of two pairs of
possibilities: one physical (the occurrence or the non-occurrence of
the earthquake), and the other moral (to disclose or not to disclose
the prediction):
Earthquake Occurs No Earthquake
(To simplify this analysis, I am ignoring such "gray areas" as degrees
of magnitude, variable location of the epicenter, vagueness and
ambiguity of the disclosure, etc.).
Certainty would eliminate the "live" ethical issues. If the
seismologists were certain that a repeat of the Ft. Tejon earthquake
were to occur at a specified date, their clear obligation would be to
disclose this information. (The NW cell) If they were virtually certain
that it would not occur, then of course they have nothing to disclose. (The SE cell).
The problems arise with regard to the SW and NE cells -- undesirable
outcomes that might result from a forced decision under conditions of
uncertainty. If a prediction and disclosure are made, and no earthquake
takes place, there will likely be a high cost in property value loss and
economic dislocation. Furthermore, the credibility of the seismologists
might be severely compromised. (The "cry wolf" problem). However, if
disclosure is withheld and the earthquake occurs, a great many
individuals will be killed and injured who might otherwise have been spared. The seismologist is faced with a "tragic choice;" a choice between two "bads"
(loss of life vs. economic loss) and, conversely, two "goods"
(preservation of life vs. preservation of property values). Once again,
our "simple value assumption" of "lives versus property" breaks down
into complexity and controversy. Nor is that the only moral issue before
the scientists, and shortly thereafter, before many more individuals and
groups -- public, corporate, and private.
The scientists and disaster managers in Pasadena hesitate. Might it be
possible to improve probability assessment and the accuracy of the other
variables in the prediction? It is possible, but it will take time -- as
much as a week. Perhaps the probability factor may be reduced below 30%
(i.e. <30% or >70%). If, after review, the magnitude is revised to <7,
emergency services will be able to cope much more appropriately and
effectively. But valuable time will be lost; indeed, the event may occur
while the review is under way. Another "tragic
choice." How much time versus how much confidence? How are these factors
to be weighed, prior to balancing?
The decision is made to disclose the prediction -- with appropriate
caution and discretion. That moral choice settled, still more appear. How do we determine which mode of "caution" and "discretion" is
"appropriate." Who is to be notified? Surely the Governor, the Mayor of
Los Angeles, and The Federal Emergency Management Agency. Who else?
The
Los Angeles Times? CBS News and Dan Rather? The National Enquirer? The
highest journalistic bidder? Where do we draw the line? What rationale
directs the drawing of that line? What are they to be told? "Just the
facts?" Public officials, journalists, and ordinary citizens are
impatient with scholarly qualifications and unable to cope with
scientific details and technicalities. Thus it will not do to bind up
the pile of unedited technical data and toss it "over the transom" into
the Mayor's office. Abridgment, assessment and summarization of the data
must be done. What rules are to guide this preparation of the data?
Once widespread disclosure is made, the seismologists become vulnerable
to public ridicule and law suits, should their prediction prove to be
false. (Conversely, had they chosen otherwise, they might still have
been subject to law suits, were it to be discovered, after an
earthquake, that they had deliberately withheld a prediction of that
event -- yet another "Catch 22" dilemma). A prediction, carefully
qualified with precise scientific concepts and terminology, may be
sensationalized by the press. Thus what they are willing and obligated
to disclose must be a function, not only of the integrity of their
professional colleagues (in the review process) and of their codes of
professional conduct (stated or otherwise), but also a function of the
anticipated and actual conduct of public officials, of the media, of the
legal profession, and indeed of the general public. Thus the decision of
the assembled seismologists and crisis managers can not be derived
entirely from abstract rules and in splendid isolation from
considerations of the conditions of the society upon which that decision
will soon have an impact. Rather, because they have both a right and a
responsibility to assess and anticipate the moral quality of the
responses of affected professions and the public, their decision must
take into account the interactions among the operative norms, "the moral
ecology," of the community. (We will return to this important
consideration in the next section).
As we have seen, the "tragic choices" facing the conferees at Cal-Tech
are inescapably moral choices. The conferees can also be said to be
"morally responsible" for their decisions -- again, a condition from which
they can not escape. Their predicament is due to a convergence, at that
time, place and circumstance, of the four essential conditions of
"responsibility;" namely, that whatever they decide:
-
they will know, or be capable of anticipating (before the event), the
consequences of their decision. (Not totally, of course, but enough for
their decision to be morally significant).
-
they will be capable of making that decision and acting upon it
-
they will have a free choice. (They could have chosen otherwise).
-
their decision will be acknowledged to have, consequences of
value
significance, affecting the lives, welfare and rights of persons.
Should they choose to disclose the prediction, the burden of
responsibility will be extended to others whose circumstances encompass
these four conditions -- the Governor, various Mayors, lawyers, the
media, etc. A generation earlier, this burden of responsibility would
not have fallen upon a similar collection of specialists, professionals
and administrators, for the "knowledge" and "capacity" conditions would
have been virtually absent. Lacking any of the four criteria, there is
no responsibility. Thus the hypothetical conference in Pasadena
displays, in microcosm, the macrocosm of our scientific/technological
civilization, wherein the exponential growth in knowledge and power
"bestows" upon policy-makers, legislators, administrators and managers,
a parallel expansion of moral responsibility.
It will therefore not do for the decision-makers in Pasadena to plead
that they are not philosophers and therefore have no moral theories or
moral responsibilities. They can not escape their public responsibility. Whatever they choose to do (and this includes "doing nothing"), their
decision will necessarily (a) reflect their knowledge of consequences,
(b) be a choice among options (c) variably affecting the future, and (d)
with value significance (affecting the lives, welfare, property, and
rights of persons). Furthermore, that decision will exemplify a moral
theory, at least implicitly.17 The moral component of their decision
will not be determined simply by "going over the (scientific) data once
again," or sending researchers back to the field for still more "facts."
Once again, we must cut short a proliferation of moral questions
generated by a seemingly simple paradigm case. By the nature of that
case, the moral issues apply more to the preparedness and response
phases of emergency management, and less to the mitigation and recovery
phases. Other thought-experiments would direct our attention to still
more ethical issues applying to other phases of emergency management. However, from even this necessarily brief recitation, some significant
moral aspects of emergency policy-making and policy-implementation have
become apparent.
IV - Professional Ethics: It's Functions and Objectives
The professionals assembled in the hypothetical conference room at
Cal-Tech will, if conscientious, be guided by "codes of professional
conduct" -- either formally enacted and articulated, or implicit sensed. Thus, as we explore "ethical issues in emergency management policy," it
would be appropriate to examine the function of professional codes of
ethics.
Professional "codes of ethics" are commonly perceived to be like "decalogues"
-- lists of "do-s" and "don't-s" (primarily don't-s) describing the
bounds of acceptable, and realms of forbidden, conduct on the part of
the professional. Thus committees that write professional codes are
perceived as moral legislators, and others that enforce these codes are
seen as moral police. To be sure, the "decalogue function" is an
important element of a professional code of ethics -- but it is not the
only function, and perhaps not even the most important function. In
addition to the claims of the profession against the practitioner, there
are matters of reciprocating claims and expectations of the practitioner
regarding his colleagues, of the profession and practitioner against
other professions, against public public officials and institutions,
against the code of law, and against the public at large. Thus a
comprehensive code of ethics includes not only a statement of duties and
responsibilities (moral claims against the agents), but also a statement
of rights and expectations (claims by and in behalf of the agent). In
this second sense. a professional may claim from his colleagues, candor,
honesty, loyalty, and expectations of support. (For example, a
conscientious seismologist prepared to announce an earthquake prediction
will honor his peers' prohibition against seeking notoriety and
self-promotion through "sensationalism." In exchange for this restraint,
he might claim, against his colleagues, a right to have his prediction
receive peer review and evaluation and, if the results thereof are
favorable, he has a claim to peer support as he discreetly discloses his
prediction).
The explication, in the code of conduct, of the practitioner's rights,
duties, responsibilities and expectations, results in an enhancement of
personal, professional and public advantage, through the professional's
improved knowledge of the likely consequences of his conduct. Accordingly, the objectives of codes of professional conduct are not
simply moral, they are also pragmatic ("practical"). They serve, not
only as "moral policemen," but also as facilitators of effective and
appropriate action -- as, one might say, "rules of the professional
road." Thus, for example, a public communications expert in the office
of the Mayor of Los Angeles would, upon receiving the prediction from
the Pasadena group, need to know the most expeditious means of releasing
this information to appropriate officials and then, through the media,
to the general public. That official's decision will surely be
facilitated by an informed expectation of
the degree of civic responsibility and moral restraint that will be
exhibited by the media, members of the legal and medical professions,
and still other professionals. Codes of professional conduct might
clarify and ensure that expectation. But apart from these moral
considerations, codes of conduct may explicate agreed-upon procedures of
doing intra- and extra-mural business -- procedures that can claim
little intrinsic moral significance by themselves.
Consider an analogy: there is nothing intrinsically "better" about
driving on the right side of the road, as in the United States, rather
than the left, as in England. But once the choice has been made, for
whatever reason, and enacted into the traffic laws, there is
unquestionably a "correct" side of the road for driving. Similarly,
there may be little moral difference among a set of available
professional procedures, until a collective choice is made. Once
decided, however, the practitioner is obliged to follow these "rules,"
so that others may deal with him in an effective and efficient manner. "Professional codes," thus serve to define roles and interactions --
within and beyond the profession. Thus they might better be called
"codes of conduct and procedure."
Codes of conduct should express claims against other professions, and
statements of conditions and contingencies which will govern the
professional's dealing with other professions, contingent upon how those
other professions and professionals reciprocally behave. Thus, to return
to our example, a seismologist's moral "responsibility" with regard to
his prediction, can not be determined in isolation from the conditions
of the world beyond his professional practice. Rather, as Garrett Hardin
has put it, "the morality of [that] act is a function of the state of
the system"18 -- namely, the "system" of society and the interaction of
its component institutions and professions. For example, if the media
can be expected to act with the decorum and restraint of the Los Angeles
Times, one type of disclosure is called for. If, on the other hand, the
media can be expected to respond with the flamboyance of The National
Enquirer, a different response is called for. Personal and professional
ethics must therefore be a function of the "moral ecology" of society --
the dynamic interaction of the norms, behavior, institutions and
professions of the "social environment."
Let us return to the conference room in Pasadena. These seismologists,
engineers and crisis managers, having agreed that there is a high
probability of a catastrophic earthquake in about a month, find
themselves amid cross-currents of moral obligations
-- to themselves, to their profession, and to the general public. First,
they have a duty to warn the public -- through, presumably, appropriate
government agencies and perhaps the media (who will learn of it anyway). On the other hand, they, their institutions, and their families have a
right to be protected from professional and financial ruin. How secure
are their personal and professional lives once they give a candid
warning?
How does this security affect their burdens of professional
responsibility?
As they attempt to answer these questions, the professionals must
assess, predict and come to terms with the "moral ecology" of their
society -- with the responsibilities, respectively, of government
officials, the media, and the legal profession. In the best of worlds (alas,
not our world), one would find beyond one's profession, operative
preferences (a) in government, for public safety over political
advantage, (b) in the media, for accuracy over sensationalism, (c) in
law, of protected expression over litigation -- all of which would
protect and thus morally require candid disclosure on the part of the
seismologist and the crisis manager. The professionals do not, however,
have comparable responsibility if interacting institutions and
professions lie in ambush.
Codes of professional conduct can thus serve a vital social function,
not merely as "Decalogues" of "Thou Shalt Not" imperatives, but rather
as "compacts" between the profession and society, defining and
regulating professional behavior, and setting expectations and common
understanding, both within and beyond the profession. As "agreements in
principle" and statements of expectation, professional codes serve to
reduce the "anguish of indecision" and hazards of unpredictability. Moreover, if they enjoy a consensus of the profession, they provide
informal peer sanction. Like other "rules of the road," these codes are
best drawn up in times of quiet and unhurried reflection, with wise and
informed anticipation before the fact. Yet, as "general rules" they can
not anticipate all "applications" in the brute, particular, anxious
reality of an actual disaster. Thus initiative and improvisation must be
an essential objective of the education and the practice of the
professional disaster manager.
Given that one of the primary objectives of emergency management is
effective, efficient, appropriate and coordinated response to
disasters, and given that codes of professional "conduct and
procedure" may enhance the mutual expectations of how the active and
interested parties and professionals will in fact respond before,
during and after an emergency, it follows that it is a primary and
urgent duty of each profession involved in disaster policy and
management to prepare and articulate a well-ordered,
well-considered, and comprehensive code of conduct.19 This obligation falls under the rule that "forewarned is
forearmed." The preparation of these codes, integrated with the codes of
ethics of other involved professions, may thus be regarded as one of the
primary aspects of the "preparation phase" of emergency management
policy.
V - A Postscript and an Invitation
How well has the foregoing analysis solved the dilemma of the
hypothetical seismologists and emergency managers in the "Pasadena
Paradigm?" Have we instructed them as to whether or not they should
disclose their findings, and, if so, to whom and in what manner? It
would appear that we have offered them little guidance. But these
appearances are deceiving. We have (hypothetically) cautioned them about
widespread errors in ethical and policy decision-making. We have
acquainted them with important relevant concepts and methods of ethical
and policy decision-making. But we have offered no direct answers
regarding the disposition of their prediction, for to do so would be an
impertinence.
While many may be disappointed with this result, that disappointment
betrays a misconception of the philosopher's role. Applied philosophers
who, on occasion, are invited to confer with scholars and professionals
of various fields of applied science, engineering, and the "help
professions" routinely encounter such questions as these:
-
From a lawyer: "When is my obligation to my client overridden by my
obligation to society?"
-
From an architect-engineer working in a seismically active region: "What
can a philosopher tell me about balancing my obligations to my client
with my obligations to the eventual tenants of this building?"
-
And from the disaster policy-maker: "If public opinion and preference
does not support disaster mitigation efforts that are in the public
interest, how would a philosopher direct me to treat this dilemma?"
A responsible philosopher has remarkably little to say about any of
these questions that is directly, explicitly normative and definitive. He does not, because he lacks the factual competence to speak on these
issues. Why then should the philosopher be consulted on these matters? Because the doctor, the legislator, the lawyer, the architect and the
policy-maker may lack a background in conceptual analysis and moral
assessment to arrive at an informed and critically astute answer.
Quite probably, however, through his practical professional
experience, the practitioner has acquired excellent "moral
intuitions," which might be improved and integrated thought critical
reflection and clarification.20 And so, working in concert, with due respect for each other's
professional knowledge and skills, the professional practitioner and the
philosopher may examine these issues with a combined skill and insight
that far exceeds the sum of their separate competences.
Accordingly, to questions such as the above, the philosopher might first
say, "please inform me of the facts, concepts and
theories that might bear upon this case," and "share with me your sense
of the morally correct answer, and your justification for this belief." After reflecting upon these answers to these queries, he then might say,
"let me suggest some possible answers to these ethical questions, and
let us together assess their adequacy. Also let me acquaint you with
some fundamental concepts which we in our profession have found to be
valuable in facing such issues as these. Finally, let me further suggest
some methods of moral decision-making that have proven fruitful, and let
me warn you of others which have not."
The philosopher's role in policy-making, then, is not to provide
answers, but rather to facilitate the process which produces these
answers, by asking relevant questions and assisting and assessing and
criticizing the process of moral judgment and policy-making.21
NOTES AND REFERENCES
1. A noteworthy exception are some of the
Interdisciplinary Incentive Awards of the NSF/NEH EVIST Program
("Ethics and Values in Science and Technology"), among which is the
author's present study of "Applied Seismology and Responsibilities
to the Future." Philosophers have also received occasional support
from the Office of Technology Assessment and the Office of Science
and Technology Policy. In addition several philosophical "policy
centers" are beginning to enjoy recognition and support. (See note
8, below).
2. Burton, Kates and White, (Natural
Hazards Research Working Paper No. 1, Institute of Behavioral
Science, University of Colorado, 1968, pp 11-15).
3. Prominent among those who have
criticized the attempt at "value-free policy science" are Lawrence
Tribe, Mark Sagoff, Alistair Maclntyre, and K. S. Shrader-Frechette. See also numerous publications by the Hastings Center and the Center
for Philosophy and Public Policy (University of Maryland).
4. This point is argued by
numerous philosophers and many scientists. See in particular, K. S. Shrader-Frechette,
Science Policy, Ethics, and Economic
Methodology, (Boston: Reidel, 1985), Chapter 3. Also, J. Bronowski,
Science and Human Values, (New York: Harper and
Row, 1965).
5. B. F. Skinner,
Beyond
Freedom and Dignity, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1971, p. 104.
6. This brief and seemingly
dogmatic paragraph leads us to the edge of the abyss of modern
metaethics -- particularly, the question of "the naturalistic
fallacy." We will draw back from that abyss, lest the topic and
purpose of this paper be lost by such a digression. Suffice to say
that some philosophers believe that the gap between "is statements"
and "ought statements" can be bridged. None, however, would suggest
that this is a simple enterprise, and all would be appalled at how
carelessly and casually many "policy positivists" walk past this
deep and perplexing philosophical problem. One of the best
introductions to the "is-ought problem" is William Frankena's
Ethics, (Second Edition), Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall,
1973, Chapter 6. See also my "Are
Science and Scholarship "Value Neutral?," and
"Can the Environmentalist Escape Philosophy?," this site.
7. Loren R. Graham, "The Multiple Connections
Between Science and Ethics," The Hastings Center Report, June
1979, p. 38. See also Shrader-Frechette, op. cit., p. 87, Cf. note
4, above.
8. The following come immediately to mind:
The Institute for Behavioral Science, and the Center for the Study
of Values and Social Policy, at the University of Colorado; the
Social Philosophy and Policy Center, at Bowling Green State
University in Ohio; the Center for Philosophy and Public Policy, at
the University of Maryland; The Center for the Study of Ethics in
the Professions, at the Illinois Institute of Technology; The
Hastings Center.
9. "Discounting the future" is much more
than a simple matter of "descriptive economics." Some of the deep
ethical issues involved "discounting" are expertly analyzed by Derek
Parfit in his book, Reasons and Persons, New York: Oxford
University Press, 1984, pp. 480-6.
10. This point is expertly made by Ender and
Kim in their paper, "A Risk Management Model for Natural Disaster
Mitigation Policy Implementation," Louise Comfort (ed) Managing
Disaster: Strategies and Policy Perspectives, Duke
University Press, 1988
11. Such a gross and uncritical utilitarianism, complains John Rawls
(among other critics), "does not take seriously the distinction
between persons." John Rawls, A Theory of Justice, Harvard
University Press, 1971, p. 27. Other critics of the utilitarian
"cost/risk/benefit analysis" are cited in note 3, above.
12. For two eloquent and cogent statements of this position, see
Ronald Dworkin, Taking Rights Seriously, (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1978), Chapter 7. Also, Joel Feinberg, "The Nature
and Value of Rights," The Journal of Value Inquiry, Vol. 4,
(Winter, 1970), pp 243-57.
13. Risa Palm, "Geography and Consumer Protection: Housing Market
Responses to Earthquake Hazards Disclosure," Southeastern
Geographer, (Vol. 25:1, May 1985), p.71.
14. Palm, op. cit., p. 71. Also, 67, 69. The paper summarizes an
extensive study by Palm, Marston, Kellner, Smith and Budetti, Home
Mortgage Lenders, Real Property Appraisers and Earthquake Hazards,
University of Colorado: Institute of Behavioral Science, 1983. The
same point is made by several authors in Comfort's anthology (op. cit.)
15. This is the "scenario earthquake" studied by the
California Division of Mines and Geology, and published as
"Earthquake Planning Scenario for a Magnitude 8.3 earthquake on the
San Andreas Fault in Southern California," James F. Davis, et. al.,
Special Publication 60, California Department of Conservation,
Division of Mines and Geology, Sacramento, California, 1982.
16. At the present state of the science, short-term predictions
(hours and days) and long-term hazard assessments (probabilities
over several years) are more reliable than such an intermediate time
prediction as imagined here. However, this scenario raises the more
interesting ethical issues. (My thanks to Clement Shearer for
pointing this out).
17. By this I mean that these ethical decisions will not be
arbitrary, random and incoherent. Rather, they will follow a pattern
which will display a moral theory, just as colloquial speech
displays a grammatical structure unknown to the uneducated speaker
(or, in the case of "deep structures," the professor of
linguistics). For more about "implicit moral theory," see my
"Are We
Ready for an Ecological Morality?," Environmental Ethics, (4)
Winter, 1984, pp 175-90. That paper draws upon important work, by
John Rawls, Noam Chomsky and Lawrence Kohlberg.
18. Garrett Hardin, "The Tragedy of the Commons,"
Science,
Vol. 162, p. 1245.
19. Well coordinated codes of conduct and procedure
would thus help to bring about and sustain what John Rawls calls a
"well-ordered society;" namely, a society in which the parties know,
now only that they will behave rationally and justly, but also how
others will behave likewise, and that this knowledge and expectation
is mutual and reciprocated -- i.e., "they know that others know that
they know. Rawls, op. cit., pp. 4, 453ff.
20. For important recent work on "moral intuitions" and "the moral
sense," see the work of Lawrence Kohlberg and, once again, John
Rawls, op.cit, pp.46ff. My thoughts along these lines (following the
ideas of Kohlberg and Rawls) may be found in my "Are We Ready for an
Ecological Morality?", loc. cit..
21. This role of the philosopher is not unlike what Louise Comfort
calls "the function of design in emergency problem-solving," namely,
"to structure the elements of decision -- information, timing, known
constraints, interaction among participants -- in a process which is
likely to yield the most appropriate choice in the most timely
fashion." To this list I would add "value clarification and
assessment" in terms of such philosophical criteria as consistency,
coherence and comprehensiveness.
