Lisette Kaleveld explores the growing momentum towards putting business on a solid ethical footing

What constitutes an ethical life? Aristotle, Rawls, Mills and Kant aren't the only great minds to have pondered the question. And yet we still don't have a fail-proof manual on how to live well.

In June this year, the Vatican reviewed the Ten Commandments and found them somewhat lacking. The addition of a Decalogue for the Environment showed us that sometimes, even God's commandments - those rules written in stone and ratified by the Bible - need questioning and re-interpretation in context. Now, as the corporation replaces religion and government as the most powerful public institution of our time (as is widely believed), are business ethics also facing increased scrutiny and revision?

Let's rewind 20 years. It's the middle of the greed-is-good decade, the 1980s. The corporation is still Milton Freidman's baby, unfettered and answerable only to market forces and profit margins. When Anita Roddick emerges as The Body Shop's activist corporate leader, people are a little nervous...and suspicious.

At World Trade Organisation meetings, she's not inside with the suits, she's out on the street screaming with the protestors. The international company she heads up claims to defend human rights, save the whales, recycle plastic and condemn animal testing. And in the late 1980s and early '90s, as share prices soared, The Body Shop continued to maintain a circle of regard, not only for its shareholders, but for other cultures, other species and the planet as a whole.

Anita Roddick passed away late last year. I had the privilege, however, of seeing her speak at Edith Cowan University in Western Australia, years ago. She was all long earrings and boots, with a ballsy, hell-raising vocabulary. She had travelled the globe on the wings of ideology. Yes, Dame Roddick exchanged beauty secrets with the women of Sri Lanka and listened to those people facing hardship in places like Nigeria and Brazil. Importantly, she looked the people she traded with in the eye. She spoke of an emotionally honest fair trade, non-exploitative labour practices, safe working environments and pay equality.

Ethics academic Paul Lester claims that sound ethics mean making decisions that "can be justified to all who disagree" (1). And justifying her position was something Anita Roddick did, with enthusiasm. In her book Business as Unusual she says: "Microsoft could fund the National Health Service [of the UK], the Royal Navy and the Army for a year, all by itself, and still have change to spare...Half of everything spent by British consumers goes into the coffers of just 250 companies. So in terms of power and influence, you can forget the Church and forget politics, too. There is no more powerful institution in society than business. It is more important than ever before for business to assume a moral leadership in society."(2)

In retrospect, it seems strange that Anita Roddick spent so much of her public life defending herself, as if it were her ideals and values that needed justification, while, in the meantime, we tolerated the silence of, for example, Phil Knight, the then CEO of Nike, the senior managers of Shell Oil or the many other corporations who roamed the globe procuring low wages and lax environmental regulations. I suppose they had the status quo on their side. Roddick did not.

Roddick faced a culture that was not convinced business could handle planet-embracing ethics. Anyone who tried was therefore suspicious. In the 1990s, The Body Shop's main target consumer group were those young Gen-Xers with their signature cynicism. They read Naomi Klein's No Logo and saw Body Shop activism as "marketing".

Soon enough, American journalist Jon Entine exposed layers of hypocrisy in the mega-organisation. Last year, he wrote: "For a brief period into the early 1990s, a commercial magic enveloped the company...[Roddick] never could decide whether she wanted to practise her social vision or merely exploit it."(3)

But still, exploiting and marketing a social vision is always going to be better than not having one at all. In recent years, there's been a flourishing of businesses founded on ethical principles. The GreenBiz Café website showcases the best of corporate citizenship, some of it truly inspiring. The world's second largest pharmaceutical company, GlaxoSmithKline, for example - a company that has spent a fortune researching cancer - has decided to make information available to the research community for free.

"There have always been good and 'not so good' business people - this hasn't changed," Mary Hendriks of the GreenBiz Café, Sydney says. "What has changed is our concept of good. Business people now consider the global impact of products and services, and need to be aware of the fairness of where they come from and where they are disposed. Even though it's just beginning, there's a new awareness emerging in the commercial world, that thinking globally and responsibly is good ethical practice in business."

As a consumer, it's easy to love Australian Ethical Investments (I'd rather they have my money than the big four banks), shops like Ethical Threads (sweatshop-free designs and sustainably grown fabrics), the Fair Go Trading and Source Organic Foods (Perth's cafe that composts).

Even Starbucks and McDonalds, the most hard hearted, profit motivated and widely criticised of corporations, have made a recent switch to Fair Trade certified coffee without provoking too much knee jerk cynicism (...although I still personally cringe at McDonalds' new "sustainability look" of muted greens and browns).

In January this year, I met with architect Andrew Webb, co-director of a Sunshine Coast architecture firm, WD Architects. He says his company takes their ethical mandate...well, as far as they can take it. And I soon realise he's quite serious about that. Andrew and his business partner Chris Duffy's office may not be as eco-stylish as the McDonalds Café, but their crockery and furniture really is the most environmentally-friendly that money can buy - just purchased from a secondhand shop down the road.

I take a look around the office. The kitchen is stocked with organic, locally sourced tea, Fair Trade coffee and biodegradable cleaning products. Nothing new about that. More unusual is the worm farm for food scraps. I've never seen an office with a worm farm before.

Andrew tells me the staff use Australian Ethical Investment superannuation funds, and business cards made with vegetable-based inks on recycled paper. The company mural is painted with non-toxic paint. PVC-based stationery products are avoided, and Tim Tams strictly prohibited (the biscuits use palm oil, not very orangutan friendly).

The same level of thought and care extends to WD Architects' buildings - from the projects they accept (they designed the first straw bale wildlife hospital for Wildlife Warriors), to every detail of the materials they specify for building.

"Deformed shank nails are better," Andrew says. That's one product he's sure about choosing and using. But when sourcing materials for an entire hospital, house or hotel there are also taps, light switches, paints, door handles, adhesives and sealants to make ethically informed decisions about.

Which product has the least environmental impact? Does it need to be transported a great distance? Is it manufactured in humane conditions? Is it manageable for builders to work with? Does it have an impact on human or ecological health? Can it be recycled or disassembled and reused in future?

"There's no perfect answer, but some answers are better than others," Andrew says. "Aluminium is light to transport, and cheap to use, but such a huge amount of energy goes into making it, so we avoid it." Medium Density Fibreboard (MDF) could be a health hazard for cabinetmakers: "The dust particles are toxic and too fine for the nose to filter out. If this becomes a crisis similar to asbestos, who is responsible?" WD Architects use a low-VOC (volatile organic compound) particleboard instead.

There are very few perfect materials. "Timber for example. Pine plantations can be eco-friendly, unless a local habitat has been destroyed for it. Engineered timbers are good, but the glues in them give off toxic gas. And laminate is good environmentally, but we have to look at its longevity, the adhesives needed and adaptability for future generations," Andrew says.

Weighing the value of materials against ethical standards is complex enough. Then factor in clients' objectives, Australian building regulations and the ability of the building industry to work with alternative materials. "Builders have liability issues, so to suggest an unknown is sometimes a big ask," Andrew says. "There's also the profitability of just doing what they know. That's a big reason for the general inertia in the building industry."

Practising ethics in conditions of constraint and compromise is part of the deal, for architects, for anyone. But Andrew isn't discouraged. Years ago, after his first solo project designing a school in Northern India, he remembers Carleton University School of Architecture guest professor Essy Baniassad saying, "You have to have a Northern Star to guide you; it doesn't mean you will reach it."

It's an apt metaphor for working ethically in an imperfect world. There's no simple rulebook. And whether you're a company or an individual, giving an ethical mandate real meaning requires a consistent effort to investigate and really engage with complexity.

There's always so much to learn, Andrew says. "I've had an amazing run of clients. Some have done lots of research about the best composting toilet or solar hot water panel. But I'm always looking to do more research. At least 10 per cent of my time is spent on research - not all architecture firms do this."

One hundred years ago, the work of a business was to make enough profit to survive, full stop. Public interest, fairness, humaneness, and stewardship of the planet weren't even part of business consciousness. The concept of a "good corporate citizen" was for radicals and even corporate contributions to charity were illegal.

Thirty years ago, GreenBiz's Mary Hendriks explains, business values were mostly about responsibility for your product and caring for the community, perhaps via sponsorship of sport or community activities. "However, there was only minimal understanding of the way products were produced, and even less of the impact of using and disposing those products."

The Body Shop is not without flaws. But in the 1980s, in a high profile way, Anita Roddick managed to at least expand the concept of business practice, to introduce planet embracing ethics, and to put this ambition and this guiding star on the horizon for all to see.

Since then business leaders and consumers have learnt a bit of cunning, a bit of cynicism (and the art of green washing), and have certainly learnt to pay lip service to the idea of the triple bottom line. But what matters is that we're now comfortable mixing commercial interest and ethical practice, we're beginning to expect it, and we might even get better at it.

There are now not-for-profit organisations like St James Ethics Centre, created in 1988, devoted to nutting out what ethical management means. For businesses, they provide ethics consulting and counselling services, forums and symposiums, ethics leadership development, business training and even accreditation.

Things can change quickly. As the economy moves from an industrial model to a networked model, products are, more and more, branded and sold in communities of shared ideals. This means, in the Information Age, the principle as well as the product is for sale. And for some consumers and some businesses, that's always going to be worth paying for.

References:
1. Lester, P 1999, 'Chapter Three: Finding a Philosophical Perspective', Photojournalism An Ethical Approach, Retrieved September 3, 2007, from http://commfaculty.fullerton.edu/lester/writings/chapter3.html
2. Roddick, A 2000, Business as Unusual, Harper Collins, London.
3. Entine, J September 21 2007, The Myth of the Green Queen, National Post, Canada