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--Originally published at Chris Is This

I’m pretty sure Justin didn’t intend for anyone to end up in some sort of existential crisis when he tasked his Massive course with a self-evaluation proposal for participation. Well you know what they say about the best laid plans… Actually it’s not so bad, but when trying to define my personal learning objectives for the course, I come up short. Before coming to HGSE, I had dreamed of joining onto some MOOC that already existed and helping them expand sustainably into new international markets, but now I’m knee-deep in two i-lab ventures with a third venture in the works at MIT. Slap on top of that the project for the class being with a new venture and my mind seems to be swimming in a different direction. What does that mean for Massive? Well, I’ve still got a lot of questions I’d like answered, and I think that’s a good way to frame what I’d like to get out of this class.

  • What does it really mean to learn at scale?
  • How do you build a sustainable and credible massive model? Without severely limiting access?
  • Is the traditional model really broken? Or are we just bored?
  • What are the implications for learning at scale for underdeveloped regions?
  • How do we make sure that we’re not just applying the solution we want without regards to the actual problem?

I know that a lot of what I get out of this class ultimately comes down to what I put into it, and this makes me think a lot about Newton’s First Law of Motion:

An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.

Or, put more bluntly, in order to push myself out of my inherently lazy state, I need some help. That I’ll define as the participation rubric, which I’ve roughly outlined below.

Criteria Goal Exceeds Expectations Meets Expectations Underperforms Expectations
Blog Posts To create a longer form platform to make my own thoughts vulnerable so that they can be challenged and grow Multiple weekly blogs that synthesize the readings as well as offer my own personal research One or two blogs that with interesting things I found, but not much synthesis No blogs at all!
Tweeting To help foster dialogue within the realm of the course while remaining publicly accountable for our shared learning experience Engaging sincerely with others regularly via the course hashtag Just a couple shotgun tweets a week Forgetting completely about Twitter
In-Class Participation To take advantage of our limited time together by participating and advancing conversation, yet ensuring that my ears are attuned to what others are saying Speaking up every week, actively engaging with other students Commenting occasionally, engaging with other students Hiding out in the back, not engaged
Mapping our Dialogue To incorporate skills learned elsewhere to help the class as a whole really reflect on our dialogue Periodically creating some awesome visuals for the class to help digest the conversation A one-off graphic that sparks a bit of conversation No visuals whatsoever!

One of my main goals is that my participation become reflexive, not forced. I don’t want to look at a checklist and ask myself if I’ve tweeted for the day, I want to feel the urge to say something to the class in the same way I have the urge to check the New York Times every day. Nobody needs to remind me to do that. It’s a habit I’ve got to build up.

You can find the Google Doc version of this here.

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--Originally published at Chris Is This

I’m pretty sure Justin didn’t intend for anyone to end up in some sort of existential crisis when he tasked his Massive course with a self-evaluation proposal for participation. Well you know what they say about the best laid plans… Actually it’s not so bad, but when trying to define my personal learning objectives for the course, I come up short. Before coming to HGSE, I had dreamed of joining onto some MOOC that already existed and helping them expand sustainably into new international markets, but now I’m knee-deep in two i-lab ventures with a third venture in the works at MIT. Slap on top of that the project for the class being with a new venture and my mind seems to be swimming in a different direction. What does that mean for Massive? Well, I’ve still got a lot of questions I’d like answered, and I think that’s a good way to frame what I’d like to get out of this class.

  • What does it really mean to learn at scale?
  • How do you build a sustainable and credible massive model? Without severely limiting access?
  • Is the traditional model really broken? Or are we just bored?
  • What are the implications for learning at scale for underdeveloped regions?
  • How do we make sure that we’re not just applying the solution we want without regards to the actual problem?

I know that a lot of what I get out of this class ultimately comes down to what I put into it, and this makes me think a lot about Newton’s First Law of Motion:

An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.

Or, put more bluntly, in order to push myself out of my inherently lazy state, I need some help. That I’ll define as the participation rubric, which I’ve roughly outlined below.

Criteria Goal Exceeds Expectations Meets Expectations Underperforms Expectations
Blog Posts To create a longer form platform to make my own thoughts vulnerable so that they can be challenged and grow Multiple weekly blogs that synthesize the readings as well as offer my own personal research One or two blogs that with interesting things I found, but not much synthesis No blogs at all!
Tweeting To help foster dialogue within the realm of the course while remaining publicly accountable for our shared learning experience Engaging sincerely with others regularly via the course hashtag Just a couple shotgun tweets a week Forgetting completely about Twitter
In-Class Participation To take advantage of our limited time together by participating and advancing conversation, yet ensuring that my ears are attuned to what others are saying Speaking up every week, actively engaging with other students Commenting occasionally, engaging with other students Hiding out in the back, not engaged
Mapping our Dialogue To incorporate skills learned elsewhere to help the class as a whole really reflect on our dialogue Periodically creating some awesome visuals for the class to help digest the conversation A one-off graphic that sparks a bit of conversation No visuals whatsoever!

One of my main goals is that my participation become reflexive, not forced. I don’t want to look at a checklist and ask myself if I’ve tweeted for the day, I want to feel the urge to say something to the class in the same way I have the urge to check the New York Times every day. Nobody needs to remind me to do that. It’s a habit I’ve got to build up.

You can find the Google Doc version of this here.

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--Originally published at Believe It or Not

Maybe I’ve just been tired this week, but I’m feeling a little bothered and uncertain after several course readings, videos, and activities related to innovation in the context of digital learning environments. The general impression I’m getting is that while innovation is the ideal, we aren’t doing a good job of it.

I’m wondering: what exactly do we mean by innovation? What is its purpose and what is its function? What are our intentions when we innovate, and in what manner should we do it?  Is innovation deserving of the effort we put into making it happen?

Put another way, I wonder: Are we innovating at the expense of educating?

I suspect that the reason innovation is such a hot topic right now has to do with the ever-increasing amount of information available to learners, as well as the growing number of ways in which that information is disseminated, mediated, and interpreted by media users. As Livingston points out here, we live in a time in which societies are constantly mediatizating: negotiating our relationship with technology even as we allow it to mediate (shape, act as a lens to) our experiences. As such, we exist in a sort of in-between state, eager to use new technologies and consume the media it affords us, but hesitant to truly interact with it, uncertain of the potential. We simultaneously reach out and constrain ourselves. This is the complaint of the would-be innovators: we aren’t pushing enough. Progress swirls and eddies as we look backwards to inch forward.

Holland, in interviewing leaders of various universities and other learning institutions, found that innovation was something that was aspired to, yet unrealized by many institutions as they attempted to move into an “uncertain future.” A number of interviewees described the so-called “innovation” of many MOOCs as nothing more than the rediscovery of things already known by educators and researchers of the earlier online learning era. Groom and Lamb similarly lament the lack of innovation inherent in higher education, citing restrictions placed on learners by learning management systems which are rigid, isolating, and falsely constrained – ironically, in their calls for progress, they mourn the passing of earlier versions of web interactions.

My point here isn’t that looking backwards is bad, nor that pushing forward is good – simply that in our attempts to innovate we keep being drawn back in some ways to the past. While this may seem somewhat counterproductive, I really think this past-anchoring may be more valuable than we tend to realize. If we push forward blindly in our attempts to innovate, we risk overlooking the context in which our ideas and practices are situated. Context is powerful – it can make or break a new technology by shaping the ways in which we see and interact with it.

Perhaps instead of pushing for innovation, we should put more emphasis on learning to think critically, connectedly, and contextually – using the information at our disposal to engage problems more fully and fairly. True innovation, I think, would follow.


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--Originally published at Allison Goldsberry

Personal Compass (describe your personal learning objectives for the course)

I’m here because I want to learn more about how online learning happens at scale- from design to motivation to engagement.

Participation Commitments (briefly describe the type and frequency of activities that you will commit to doing)

Despite my busted fire hydrant photo and the angst that went with it, I’m committed to sifting through as much as possible as meaningfully as possible in this course. I will not just contribute my own content and opinions; I will also comment, engage, ask questions, push things further, etc.

Participation Rubric

Participation rubric draft 1

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--Originally published at Ed Tech Wannabe

T509- Massive: Online Network Participation Rubric

(Draft: Sept 17; Revision: October 8)

Personal Compass (describe your personal learning objectives for the course)

In all of my courses, I am attempting to develop my personal learning theory.  In T-509, I aim to learn about student engagement in massive learning environments and the Connectivist theory behind them in order to incorporate various aspects into my personal theory.  I hope to do this through experiential learning in massive online environments.  By participating in different learning environments through multiple forms of engagement, I hope to learn the affordances and limitations of such technologies.  I also would like to engage in a deeper discussion with my peers, reaching into their networks for knowledge and new perspectives.

Participation Commitments (briefly describe the type and frequency of activities that you will commit to doing)

I will engage in a Twitter chat for one hour each week before class on the assigned readings.  I want to use this chat as a way to hash out some of my confusion before class, hear different perspectives, and prepare myself for continued in-class discussion.  I find I can engage best in discussion when I can fully think through the topic and the different sides.  I will prepare a few questions or topic points for discussion if it is struggling.

While I mostly want to measure my blog participation on the content I write about, I will try to write something (of any length) each week just to put my thoughts down.  I plan to blog when I find connections between my other classes and T-509.  I also found that writing a blog after class allowed me to summarize different viewpoints from both in-class discussion and the Twitter chat.  I plan to continue this in order to make sense of my understanding.  Lastly, I plan to blog about the benefits and difficulties I experience in using the various types of engagement.  Writing down my observations will allow me to look back and analyze problem areas.

I will also read at least one peer’s blog each week and comment on it to ensure I am getting a variety of perspectives.

Participation Rubric

Criteria Exceeds Expectation Meets Expectation Underperforms Expectation
Twitter Chat each week Come to discussion with topics, specific questions, and/or related articles to prompt the chat Participate in discussion and learn about peers’ thoughts Don’t participate in discussion
Blog Blog once a week on a variety of topics including other classes, affordances/problems with massive environment technologies, and my thoughts on the readings Blog as a way to organize my thoughts on readings Don’t blog
Comment Read multiple blogs each week and comment to gain a variety of perspectives Read one blog per week and comment Don’t read any peers’ blogs

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--Originally published at The Noble Leisure Project

Oxford’s Prof. Roger Crisp offers three senses in which to understand the term “business ethics” in his “A Defense of Philosophical Business Ethics” (in Shaw, Ethics at Work, 2003).  The first is the “ethical outlook” of the actor; the second, the set of principles that should govern business behavior; the third, an area of philosophical enquiry.  For business practitioners, the first and second of these should be of great importance, though Crisp argues forcefully that the third, in which the individual actually engages in moral philosophy before making business decisions, is essential (6).  Perhaps there is a fourth.  Business ethics also appears to be the system by which we make moral judgments in business settings and act upon them, assessing praiseworthiness and blame, justifying rewards and punishments.  Although this may seem to flow from various policies or institutional practices, we can, and should, question whether these policies and practices are themselves ethical in nature.  To the extent that the general concern of ethics is to provide the best reasons for doing what we ultimately do, parties in business situations should constantly evaluate whether their own moral judgments, and the way these take shape, contribute to reasons for behavior they neither intend nor desire.

In describing an ethical outlook, Crisp notes that sometimes this is “implied by behavior or explicitly stated” and that “behavior and statement can of course come apart” (2).  We should ask whether this “coming apart” itself a matter of ethical concern.  Perhaps the answer turns on whether the statement itself is intentional or aspiring.  For example, there may be many reasons for a company to make a value statement like “the interests of our customers must come first.”  This is likely to be an intentional statement, one designed to guide the behavior of its employees, but also to invite potential customers to chose this company over its rivals.  When, inevitably, an employee places his own or the company’s interests ahead of the customer’s, where should we situate our moral evaluation: on the company, or the individual?  If, making this statement, the company appears to have no real intention of standing by it, as we might observe from the way in which it habitually deals with its customers, the company would be morally blameworthy.  Alternatively, a statement may be purely aspiring, e.g., “we will at all times strive to serve the best interests of all our stakeholders, including our investors, our employees, our counterparties and our communities.”  When these interests conflict, as at times they surely must, we need to appeal to some defensible first principle in order to make an appropriate evaluation.  In other words, we need to engage in philosophy.

Crisp raises and answers several objections to philosophical business ethics, among them, the problem of skepticism (2), of the abstractness (4) and idleness (7) of philosophy itself, and the inevitability of moral disagreement (9).  Arguing against philosophical skepticism, Crisp notes, “a complete denial of the force of moral principles is implausible” (3).  He posits rational self-interest as against such moral principles (3, 11) and offers up egoism as a form of skepticism.  Yet this appears to deny the very philosophical questioning for which he advocates.  Ethical egoism is itself a moral principle, one that states an action is right if and only if it is in our self-interest.  Although this theory may be “hard to believe” (3) when applied to individuals, it is hard to deny when applied to businesses, or by extension, to individuals acting on behalf of businesses.  The very purpose of a business appears to be its self-interest, and a wide range of moral philosophy is grounded in the idea that what is right is what is aligned with something’s purpose (teleology).  We should no more expect a business to place outside interests ahead of its own than we should expect a player in a poker tournament to place the enjoyment of fellow contestants ahead of his interest in winning.  It would be nice if he were to pursue that interest with a second eye to their enjoyment, but we would not condemn him if he did not.  The poker analogy is a common one; whether it is morally relevant is the kind of question philosophical business ethics appears to require.

In his discussion of disagreement, Crisp rightly observes that “disagreement is consistent with there being a truth” (9), so the fact that its practitioners disagree should not be an argument against business ethics.  But to point out that there is less disagreement than we might think, while likely the case, serves to lessen Crisp’s argument, rather than strengthen it.  Crisp argues that we can have more than one reason for doing the right thing, and that seems quite right, when these happen to coincide.  But the goal of philosophy is to uncover the truth, and what would be more “absurd” than not to accept more than one reason, would be to accept one reason we believe to be true along with another we believe to be false.  While it may be that several theories will conclude that we should pay our debts and should not kill our competitors (10), the usefulness of understanding “the because” as Aristotle urges us to do (10) is that we can apply the principle to less obvious cases where multiple theories are likely to produce different results.  Given the complexity of business situations and venues, this is where the importance of philosophical business ethics is most apparent.

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--Originally published at The Noble Leisure Project

Oxford’s Prof. Roger Crisp offers three senses in which to understand the term “business ethics” in his “A Defense of Philosophical Business Ethics” (in Shaw, Ethics at Work, 2003).  The first is the “ethical outlook” of the actor; the second, the set of principles that should govern business behavior; the third, an area of philosophical enquiry.  For business practitioners, the first and second of these should be of great importance, though Crisp argues forcefully that the third, in which the individual actually engages in moral philosophy before making business decisions, is essential (6).  Perhaps there is a fourth.  Business ethics also appears to be the system by which we make moral judgments in business settings and act upon them, assessing praiseworthiness and blame, justifying rewards and punishments.  Although this may seem to flow from various policies or institutional practices, we can, and should, question whether these policies and practices are themselves ethical in nature.  To the extent that the general concern of ethics is to provide the best reasons for doing what we ultimately do, parties in business situations should constantly evaluate whether their own moral judgments, and the way these take shape, contribute to reasons for behavior they neither intend nor desire.

In describing an ethical outlook, Crisp notes that sometimes this is “implied by behavior or explicitly stated” and that “behavior and statement can of course come apart” (2).  We should ask whether this “coming apart” itself a matter of ethical concern.  Perhaps the answer turns on whether the statement itself is intentional or aspiring.  For example, there may be many reasons for a company to make a value statement like “the interests of our customers must come first.”  This is likely to be an intentional statement, one designed to guide the behavior of its employees, but also to invite potential customers to chose this company over its rivals.  When, inevitably, an employee places his own or the company’s interests ahead of the customer’s, where should we situate our moral evaluation: on the company, or the individual?  If, making this statement, the company appears to have no real intention of standing by it, as we might observe from the way in which it habitually deals with its customers, the company would be morally blameworthy.  Alternatively, a statement may be purely aspiring, e.g., “we will at all times strive to serve the best interests of all our stakeholders, including our investors, our employees, our counterparties and our communities.”  When these interests conflict, as at times they surely must, we need to appeal to some defensible first principle in order to make an appropriate evaluation.  In other words, we need to engage in philosophy.

Crisp raises and answers several objections to philosophical business ethics, among them, the problem of skepticism (2), of the abstractness (4) and idleness (7) of philosophy itself, and the inevitability of moral disagreement (9).  Arguing against philosophical skepticism, Crisp notes, “a complete denial of the force of moral principles is implausible” (3).  He posits rational self-interest as against such moral principles (3, 11) and offers up egoism as a form of skepticism.  Yet this appears to deny the very philosophical questioning for which he advocates.  Ethical egoism is itself a moral principle, one that states an action is right if and only if it is in our self-interest.  Although this theory may be “hard to believe” (3) when applied to individuals, it is hard to deny when applied to businesses, or by extension, to individuals acting on behalf of businesses.  The very purpose of a business appears to be its self-interest, and a wide range of moral philosophy is grounded in the idea that what is right is what is aligned with something’s purpose (teleology).  We should no more expect a business to place outside interests ahead of its own than we should expect a player in a poker tournament to place the enjoyment of fellow contestants ahead of his interest in winning.  It would be nice if he were to pursue that interest with a second eye to their enjoyment, but we would not condemn him if he did not.  The poker analogy is a common one; whether it is morally relevant is the kind of question philosophical business ethics appears to require.

In his discussion of disagreement, Crisp rightly observes that “disagreement is consistent with there being a truth” (9), so the fact that its practitioners disagree should not be an argument against business ethics.  But to point out that there is less disagreement than we might think, while likely the case, serves to lessen Crisp’s argument, rather than strengthen it.  Crisp argues that we can have more than one reason for doing the right thing, and that seems quite right, when these happen to coincide.  But the goal of philosophy is to uncover the truth, and what would be more “absurd” than not to accept more than one reason, would be to accept one reason we believe to be true along with another we believe to be false.  While it may be that several theories will conclude that we should pay our debts and should not kill our competitors (10), the usefulness of understanding “the because” as Aristotle urges us to do (10) is that we can apply the principle to less obvious cases where multiple theories are likely to produce different results.  Given the complexity of business situations and venues, this is where the importance of philosophical business ethics is most apparent.

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--Originally published at The Noble Leisure Project

It is difficult to determine just how high the bar is set in the GoodWork Project’s argument for both “good work” and the “compromised work” that deviates from it.  In Good Work (ix) and in Making Good (12), “good work” is simply described as “work that is both excellent in quality and benefits [or, is responsible to] the broader society.”  On this account, it seems that any professional (say, a lawyer) with superior knowledge and skills, applying these exclusively for the benefit of his client, upholding his confidences and honoring his commitments, taking care not to violate any professional code or ethical standard and succeeding in all this, is performing good work.  Deviating from this description is the compromised worker, who fails in any of these respects and is a discredit to his profession (and himself).

 

In Prof. Howard Gardner’s Daedalus article, “Compromised Work” (2005), the bar appears much higher.  The lawyer must do all the things described as good work above and something more: he must also be willing to work for free.  He will be publicly honored.  He will be not merely a lawyer but a statesman.  He will reflect not merely the norms of his profession but its loftiest aspirations.  On this account, the good worker in Good Work appears to be the compromised worker in Daedalus.

 

Perhaps the argument has evolved from “good” work to “noble” work.  In that case, we might ask whether noble work describes good work in a noble profession, or noble work in a profession that is merely necessary and useful.

 

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--Originally published at The Noble Leisure Project

It is difficult to determine just how high the bar is set in the GoodWork Project’s argument for both “good work” and the “compromised work” that deviates from it.  In Good Work (ix) and in Making Good (12), “good work” is simply described as “work that is both excellent in quality and benefits [or, is responsible to] the broader society.”  On this account, it seems that any professional (say, a lawyer) with superior knowledge and skills, applying these exclusively for the benefit of his client, upholding his confidences and honoring his commitments, taking care not to violate any professional code or ethical standard and succeeding in all this, is performing good work.  Deviating from this description is the compromised worker, who fails in any of these respects and is a discredit to his profession (and himself).

 

In Prof. Howard Gardner’s Daedalus article, “Compromised Work” (2005), the bar appears much higher.  The lawyer must do all the things described as good work above and something more: he must also be willing to work for free.  He will be publicly honored.  He will be not merely a lawyer but a statesman.  He will reflect not merely the norms of his profession but its loftiest aspirations.  On this account, the good worker in Good Work appears to be the compromised worker in Daedalus.

 

Perhaps the argument has evolved from “good” work to “noble” work.  In that case, we might ask whether noble work describes good work in a noble profession, or noble work in a profession that is merely necessary and useful.

 

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--Originally published at The Noble Leisure Project

Oxford’s Prof. Roger Crisp offers three senses in which to understand the term “business ethics” in his “A Defense of Philosophical Business Ethics” (in Shaw, Ethics at Work, 2003).  The first is the “ethical outlook” of the actor; the second, the set of principles that should govern business behavior; the third, an area of philosophical enquiry.  For business practitioners, the first and second of these should be of great importance, though Crisp argues forcefully that the third, in which the individual actually engages in moral philosophy before making business decisions, is essential (6).  Perhaps there is a fourth.  Business ethics also appears to be the system by which we make moral judgments in business settings and act upon them, assessing praiseworthiness and blame, justifying rewards and punishments.  Although this may seem to flow from various policies or institutional practices, we can, and should, question whether these policies and practices are themselves ethical in nature.  To the extent that the general concern of ethics is to provide the best reasons for doing what we ultimately do, parties in business situations should constantly evaluate whether their own moral judgments, and the way these take shape, contribute to reasons for behavior they neither intend nor desire.

In describing an ethical outlook, Crisp notes that sometimes this is “implied by behavior or explicitly stated” and that “behavior and statement can of course come apart” (2).  We should ask whether this “coming apart” itself a matter of ethical concern.  Perhaps the answer turns on whether the statement itself is intentional or aspiring.  For example, there may be many reasons for a company to make a value statement like “the interests of our customers must come first.”  This is likely to be an intentional statement, one designed to guide the behavior of its employees, but also to invite potential customers to chose this company over its rivals.  When, inevitably, an employee places his own or the company’s interests ahead of the customer’s, where should we situate our moral evaluation: on the company, or the individual?  If, making this statement, the company appears to have no real intention of standing by it, as we might observe from the way in which it habitually deals with its customers, the company would be morally blameworthy.  Alternatively, a statement may be purely aspiring, e.g., “we will at all times strive to serve the best interests of all our stakeholders, including our investors, our employees, our counterparties and our communities.”  When these interests conflict, as at times they surely must, we need to appeal to some defensible first principle in order to make an appropriate evaluation.  In other words, we need to engage in philosophy.

Crisp raises and answers several objections to philosophical business ethics, among them, the problem of skepticism (2), of the abstractness (4) and idleness (7) of philosophy itself, and the inevitability of moral disagreement (9).  Arguing against philosophical skepticism, Crisp notes, “a complete denial of the force of moral principles is implausible” (3).  He posits rational self-interest as against such moral principles (3, 11) and offers up egoism as a form of skepticism.  Yet this appears to deny the very philosophical questioning for which he advocates.  Ethical egoism is itself a moral principle, one that states an action is right if and only if it is in our self-interest.  Although this theory may be “hard to believe” (3) when applied to individuals, it is hard to deny when applied to businesses, or by extension, to individuals acting on behalf of businesses.  The very purpose of a business appears to be its self-interest, and a wide range of moral philosophy is grounded in the idea that what is right is what is aligned with something’s purpose (teleology).  We should no more expect a business to place outside interests ahead of its own than we should expect a player in a poker tournament to place the enjoyment of fellow contestants ahead of his interest in winning.  It would be nice if he were to pursue that interest with a second eye to their enjoyment, but we would not condemn him if he did not.  The poker analogy is a common one; whether it is morally relevant is the kind of question philosophical business ethics appears to require.

In his discussion of disagreement, Crisp rightly observes that “disagreement is consistent with there being a truth” (9), so the fact that its practitioners disagree should not be an argument against business ethics.  But to point out that there is less disagreement than we might think, while likely the case, serves to lessen Crisp’s argument, rather than strengthen it.  Crisp argues that we can have more than one reason for doing the right thing, and that seems quite right, when these happen to coincide.  But the goal of philosophy is to uncover the truth, and what would be more “absurd” than not to accept more than one reason, would be to accept one reason we believe to be true along with another we believe to be false.  While it may be that several theories will conclude that we should pay our debts and should not kill our competitors (10), the usefulness of understanding “the because” as Aristotle urges us to do (10) is that we can apply the principle to less obvious cases where multiple theories are likely to produce different results.  Given the complexity of business situations and venues, this is where the importance of philosophical business ethics is most apparent.