Trail Paving in Engineering Ethics Education

My first exposure to ethics in science and technology occurred in an undergraduate humanities course on “Science and Society” taught by STS scholar Wade Chambers. One of the course readings was Hiroshima by the journalist John Hersey [10]. I felt that Hersey’s poignant account of the impacts of the nuclear bomb on several survivors of Hiroshima was a book that every student should read. Even today, I consider it to be one of the most influential books that I have read. Other than that course, I had no exposure whatsoever to science and engineering ethics as an engineering undergraduate. I did, however, begin writing, first as a journalist and then as a poet, which eventually led to acceptance into a Master of Fine Arts (MFA) Program in Creative Writing.

“He has spent his life with machines [but at the launch] will see a world begin where machines are king and he does not know whether to cry from pride or the all-out ache that he does not really comprehend the new machinery” (pp. 60–61).

As I taught this course, the thought occurred to me that there might be a role for a “translator” between technical experts and nonexperts; someone, perhaps even an engineer–poet, who might be able to help people reconcile this dual sense of awe and alienation. I was reminded of this some years later when the futurist Buckminster Fuller, upon learning of my background in both engineering and poetry, signed a copy of his book Critical Path [12] as follows: “To Joe Herkert/Engineer, poet—/who is a poet/because he is a/truly competent/engineer and visa [sic] versa/Bucky Fuller.”

The thought occurred to me that there might be a role for a “translator” between technical experts and nonexperts.

Nevertheless, upon graduation with my MFA, I tried for a time to live the life of a poet–bartender (Figure 2); while this was good for my soul, it was not so good for my wallet, so I decided to put my engineering degree to use. Beginning in 1974, I worked for over five years as a consulting engineer in the publicly owned utility sector of the electric power industry. Over this time, I worked for two consulting firms in three different cities, eventually obtaining registration as a Professional Engineer. My activities were varied, beginning with the design of electrical substations, powerlines, and small power plants. Eventually, I moved into power supply planning studies, then electric rate studies, and then financial feasibility studies of major power generation and transmission projects.

Figure 2. Joe Herkert, poet–bartender, 1973.

 

During my engineering career, I received many reminders that engineers with backgrounds like my own were considered an anomaly. Although working as an engineer, I continued writing and began working on a series of poems entitled Danger: High Voltage. At one point, I proudly displayed above my desk at work a poster about a poetry reading I was giving. The poster (Figure 1) announced the time and place of the reading and included a photograph of me wearing a hard hat and standing in front of a “Danger: High Voltage” sign at an electrical substation. It took a while for anyone to notice but, eventually, a colleague thinking it was a joke laughed and exclaimed “That’s great—where did you get that made up?”

This apparent disconnect between the culture of engineering and other forms of expression would later become a cornerstone for my work on engineering ethics and the societal implications of technology [1], [3], [23]. In a poem in the Danger: High Voltage series, “Central Switchyard,” I sought to highlight this disconnect as indicated in the following excerpts [13]:

The constant hum of the transformer
a chant

There is no humanity here
There is no machinery here

only wires

narrow alleys
of the imagination

*

At night
the electricians return
in quiet packs
to sleep

by the switchgear

During the time I worked as an engineer, I witnessed several ethical dilemmas, but, due to my lack of any exposure to engineering ethics, I was not prepared to do much about them. These included ignoring surveying errors and failing to disclose mistakes in substation construction to avoid costly changes, as well as fudging cost estimates in planning or financial feasibility studies to bring more business to the consulting firms. Practices such as these served to introduce me to what I would later call “microethics” [3], [7].

During the time I worked as an engineer, I witnessed several ethical dilemmas, but, due to my lack of any exposure to engineering ethics, I was not prepared to do much about them.

About midway through my engineering career, a colleague invited me to attend a short course on nuclear power. The first five sessions of the short course focused on the science and technology of nuclear energy, but the last was entitled “Public Acceptance of Nuclear Power.” The gist of the latter talk was that anyone opposed to nuclear power was a “no-growth fanatic” duped by Communists, Ralph Nader (who, the speaker was quick to point out, was an Arab) and TV journalist Walter Cronkite. A few years later, the speaker’s utility company halted construction of their nuclear power plant project after spending U.S. $ 2.5 billion on it, which, at the time, was the most expensive nuclear plant abandonment [14]. This dubious introduction to “public acceptance” was my first personal encounter with what I would later call “macroethics” [3], [7].

Another outcome of the short course was that I became a member of its sponsor, IEEE. I also signed up for IEEE’s Committee on Social Implications of Technology (CSIT), which later became the Society on Social Implications of Technology (SSIT). CSIT published a newsletter, Technology and Society (Figure 3), which, upon the transition of CSIT to SSIT in 1982, became IEEE Technology & Society Magazine. The CSIT newsletter was my first experience reading articles by engineers on such topics as technology policy and engineering ethics. A variety of policy issues were discussed in the newsletter including extensive coverage of nuclear power. Ethics cases discussed in the newsletter included the classic case of the whistle-blowing BART engineers. More importantly, the newsletter demonstrated to me that there was at least a small group of engineers in my field concerned about engineering ethics and the societal implications of technology. Due in part to my work on planning and financing of publicly owned utilities and in part to the influence of the CSIT newsletter and other reading, I eventually decided to go back to graduate school and pursue a doctoral degree in engineering and policy.

My graduate work at Washington University in St. Louis (1979–1987) focused on the implementation of renewable energy technologies in the publicly owned electric utility sector (the same sector I had worked in as an engineer). In my policy research, I focused on institutional barriers to renewable energy in addition to technical and economic factors, unlike many engineering studies, which minimized or ignored institutional factors.

During this time, I also served as a Teaching Assistant in a course on “Technology and Human Affairs.” Due to my professional experience, the instructor, the late Bob Morgan, asked me to teach the course unit on engineering ethics. Bob also advised me that I would have more credibility with engineering students if I wore a tie (advice I did not follow). Later, when Morgan was on leave, I taught the entire course. This course was my first experience teaching engineering ethics content. Resources were scarce in those days—for engineering ethics material, we relied primarily on the two-volume anthology of readings and cases edited by Baum and Flores [15] and articles from the CSIT newsletter. When I taught the entire course, I also used the book Powerline: The First Battle of America’s Energy War [16], which was co-authored by the late Senator Paul Wellstone of Minnesota. The book chronicles the struggle of farmers to prevent a high-voltage DC powerline from being built across their prime farmland. It does a remarkable job of showing how even conservative farmers can become radicalized by technology being shoved down their throats. It also shows the insensitivity of some engineers to the plight of the farmers. The powerline’s route, for example, was determined by a numerical method that assigned zero “avoidance” value to farmland [16, pp. 63–65]. This book and my research on renewable energy technologies in the electric utility industry gave me insight into the relationship between engineering ethics and public policy, a topic I have returned to throughout my career [1], [3], [4], [5].

My first full-time academic position was at Lafayette College (1986–1993). The position I was hired for was based in the engineering division but was designated “Technology Studies.” I was charged with creating a Technology Studies Minor and working with the Bachelor of Arts in Engineering Program (since renamed Engineering Studies). I developed and taught a course on Technology, Values, and Society and, with two colleagues in the Chemistry Department, developed a senior seminar on Technological Catastrophes, which included major case studies of the Space Shuttle Challenger accident, the Chernobyl nuclear accident, the Bhopal chemical leak, and the Exxon Valdez oil spill. I was also a key player in developing and teaching a new required course in Engineering Professionalism and Ethics. At the urging of a group of students in my Technology, Values, and Society class, I began to incorporate collaborative learning strategies in my teaching. One of those students, James Winebrake, is currently the Provost and Vice-Chancellor for Academic Affairs at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington and formerly served as the Dean of the College of Liberal Arts at Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT). Winebrake helped establish the Grand Challenge Scholars Program at RIT and has written [36] on the need for overcoming obstacles to more effective integration of STEM education and the liberal arts.

A major factor in my development as a teacher and scholar in engineering ethics was my participation in the Ethics Project at Lafayette. The project, directed by philosopher George Panichas and funded by a small gift to the college, brought together faculty from philosophy, religion, engineering, science, business, and social sciences in a workshop designed to give us a background in moral philosophy but also to share and refine strategies for teaching applied ethics within our disciplines. The Ethics Project also presented the opportunity for me to meet a number of prominent figures in the field of engineering ethics, including the engineer Steve Unger and philosophers Patricia Werhane, Deborah Johnson, and Vivian Weil. For example, I was a commentator on a talk that Werhane gave at Lafayette on the Space Shuttle Challenger case; this commentary became my first publication on engineering ethics [17].

Johnson’s visit to Lafayette was my first opportunity to observe an expert in engineering ethics lead discussions of ethics cases. I also gained a friend and mentor who has guided me throughout my career. Johnson’s textbook Ethical Issues in Engineering [18] was an early influence on my scholarship. Two articles in the anthology in particular made a lasting impression: John Ladd’s essay criticizing codes of ethics that first introduced me to the terms “microethics” and “macroethics” and Langdon Winner’s article “Engineering Ethics and Political Imagination” that argues that engineers have an ethical responsibility to become engaged in questions of public policy relating to technology (i.e., “macroethics”). Johnson has also been influential in that, like mine, her interests have been at the intersection of engineering ethics and STS. In her own words, her “…analysis emphasizes: the contingency of technology and the many actors involved in its development; a conception of technology as sociotechnical systems; and, the values infused (in a variety of ways) in technology” [19, p. 21].

I was among a small group of Ethics Project participants to visit the late philosopher Vivian Weil [20] at the Center for the Study of Ethics in the Professions (CSEP) at Illinois Institute of Technology. I returned from the visit with an armful of CSEP publications, a notepad full of ideas for my teaching and research, and another longtime friend and mentor. Vivian always checked in with me at conferences and meetings, and often by email, equally concerned about my professional and personal well-being. She never missed an opportunity to introduce me to colleagues and make me feel welcome in the growing engineering ethics community. Once when we were at a conference, I introduced Vivian to an engineering colleague who then asked if Vivian was my spouse. Vivian and I had a laugh about this, but I later told her that I should have said that she was my mother since she was, indeed, the mother of engineering ethics!

Also, as part of the Ethics Project, I invited the late Steve Unger [21], one of the founders of CSIT/SSIT, to speak at Lafayette. When he found out that I was an SSIT member, Steve invited me to a meeting of the group’s Administrative Committee. At that meeting, I was appointed Publications Chair and for most of the time since then have served SSIT as an officer, a board member, a committee chair, and/or an EIC of the society’s journal IEEE Technology and Society Magazine. Unger’s work in engineering ethics was to a great extent based upon his experience working on ethics within IEEE. Largely due to his influence, as well as my own experiences after joining the leadership of SSIT, one major aspect of my scholarly work has been connecting ethics-related activities within the profession with scholarly work on engineering ethics [3]. Unger also influenced my teaching; I used his textbook Controlling Technology [22] for many years in my engineering ethics classes. I served as the SSIT President in 1995 and 1996 and throughout the 1990s and beyond benefited from interaction with Unger and other SSIT leaders including the historian of technology, Ron Kline, whose work on integrating engineering ethics and STS [37] was, like Johnson’s, influential in my teaching and scholarship. In addition, Kline’s award-winning editorial in IEEE Technology and Society Magazine, “‘Engineer of Death’ or ‘Winning with Technology’?” [38], which took to task an ad that was run by the US branch of IEEE following the 1990-1991 Gulf War, was an impressive example for me in “speaking truth to power.” As Kline concluded his editorial, “…‘Winning with Technology’ means taking into account the social implications for everyone concerned—a fitting goal for a professional society aspiring to be transnational.”

While at Lafayette, I was also reminded of the suspicion that engineers had for a person of my background when an engineering colleague commented that I was not a “real engineer.”

While at Lafayette, I was also reminded of the suspicion that engineers had for a person of my background when an engineering colleague commented that I was not a “real engineer.” Ironically, at the time this comment was made, I was the only member of my department who was a registered Professional Engineer! Following a talk I gave on risk assessment and the culture of engineering, which highlighted the findings of social scientists on the value of nonexpert risk perceptions [23], word spread in the engineering building that I was “antitechnology.” The fact that I was not perceived as a “real engineer” by some colleagues may have played a role in my not receiving tenure at Lafayette. The College President was rumored to have said to my tenure committee something to the effect that engineering faculty should be in their declining years before they become engaged in topics such as engineering ethics and societal implications of technology.

Nonetheless, it is gratifying to know that the Lafayette Engineering Studies Program, for which I helped lay some early groundwork, has become well-established. Now, after more than 50 years, the program, “recognizing the increasingly complex challenges of sociotechnical systems,” continues to give students a strong interdisciplinary background in engineering and the liberal arts despite continuing to encounter resource and other challenges such as program identity [24], [25].

My next academic stop was NC State (1994–2007) where I was hired into the Division of Multidisciplinary Studies (now known as Interdisciplinary Studies) in the College of Humanities and Social Sciences. The job description specified an STS scholar with science or engineering credentials. One of my main responsibilities was working with the Benjamin Franklin Scholars (BFS) Program, a dual-degree program in engineering and humanities/social sciences. I ultimately became the Director of the BFS Program reporting through the Dean’s offices in both colleges. I also worked with the STS Program, eventually becoming program Director. My teaching duties included an inherited engineering ethics course, an introductory STS course, and the Technological Catastrophes course that I had codeveloped at Lafayette College. In addition, I taught STS seminars in the Master of Liberal Studies Program. I also taught online for the first time, developing an online version of the engineering ethics course.

Now that I was based in a humanities/social sciences college, I encountered skepticism from “real” philosophers and social scientists. One philosopher commented at a college curriculum committee meeting that courses such as engineering ethics and biomedical ethics were not ethics at all but only so much “fluff.” At a meeting of a different committee, a historian commented that the “history of technology” was not a legitimate “field” of history.

Now that I was based in a humanities/ social sciences college, I encountered skepticism from “real” philosophers and social scientists.

Shortly after I arrived at NC State, my senior colleague, Pat Hamlett, suggested that I focus my scholarship on engineering ethics. One step in this direction was to attend an ethics workshop at the University of Montana sponsored by the Association for Practical and Professional Ethics (APPE). At the workshop, I attended a seminar on engineering ethics taught by philosopher Michael Pritchard who would become a good friend and major influence on my career. Pritchard is particularly gifted at working with engineers; his example has been of great help to me as I have tried to bridge the gap between my own interdisciplinary background and that of “real engineers.” Pritchard [26] was also a pioneer in emphasizing the personal characteristics that lead to admirable ethical behavior in engineering, as opposed to dwelling on engineering failures, a concept that I have found useful in connecting with engineering students.

Through APPE’s annual meetings, I was able to reconnect with folks I had met earlier, including Weil and Johnson, as well as make new connections in the field of engineering ethics. At my first APPE meeting, I made a presentation on collaborative learning at a miniconference on engineering and computing ethics; my contribution [27] and other miniconference presentations were published in a special issue of Science and Engineering Ethics guest-edited by Michael Loui. Loui was not only a skilled and supportive editor, but, like Unger, he was an exemplar for me on how an engineer could make their mark in the field of engineering ethics. Through APPE and other ethics conferences, I also met and learned of the contributions to the field of engineering ethics of other engineers including Roger Boisjoly, as well as other philosophers including Caroline Whitbeck and Michael Davis.

The late Boisjoly [28], the Morton-Thiokol engineer who disclosed the flaws in the Challenger’s solid rocket boosters, was generous with his time and insights. I was especially interested in the Challenger case due to its relevance to my teaching both in my engineering ethics course and in my technological catastrophes course. In 1997, I invited Boisjoly to speak at NC State; in addition to giving me a deeper understanding of the Challenger case, Boisjoly, who worked as a forensic engineer after he left Morton-Thiokol, shared with me videos related to product liability lawsuits, which I found useful in my teaching and in my scholarship on the relationship between engineering ethics and product liability [29].

In addition to encouraging my interest and involvement in online engineering ethics education through her role as founder of the Online Ethics Center, Whitbeck’s [30] concept of “ethics as design” made a great impression on me. By showing how ethicists could learn from engineering designers, she helped me better understand the interdisciplinary give and take of engineering ethics and how my “dual identity” as both engineer and ethicist was a strength rather than an anomaly.

Perhaps, the person I have cited most in my work has been the philosopher Michael Davis. I was particularly influenced by his focus on the importance of engineering codes of ethics [31], his concept that thinking ethically is part of “thinking like an engineer” [31], [32], and his clear delineation of the goals of engineering ethics education [33]. Davis has been both a friend and one of my harshest critics, taking to task in his article “Engineers and Sustainability” [34] my notion of microethics and macroethics [3], [7]). In fact, I finally realized that I had “made it” in engineering ethics when Davis, who was critical of others in the field [35], deemed my work worthy of criticism!

Thus, around the turn of the millennium, just a half dozen years or so after Hamlett encouraged me to focus my scholarly work on engineering ethics, I found myself more or less established in the field (Figure 4) (and subsequently invited to participate in this collection on Trailblazers). While, at the time, not all of my career choices over the prior three decades seemed connected, in retrospect, my final choice to pursue scholarship and teaching on engineering ethics and societal implications of technology was a logical outcome of these earlier choices. The most significant of these experiences included my brief exposure to STS as an undergraduate engineering student; experience of different ways of knowing and expressing through creative writing and teaching English composition; work as an engineer that schooled me in both technical and nontechnical aspects of engineering and the “microethical” dilemmas that sometimes arise; graduate research and teaching in engineering, policy, and ethics that laid the groundwork for my interest in “macroethics”; interdisciplinary faculty appointments that provided me the opportunity to teach and publish in engineering ethics, engineering ethics education, and STS; the opportunity to work with academic programs at two institutions that sought to integrate engineering and the liberal arts; and the chance to meet and collaborate with colleagues through organizations such as IEEE, ASEE, and APPE. I think that some of my success has been due to being in the right place at the right time—there just were not many engineers, particularly early career engineers, engaged in engineering ethics scholarship at the time I became involved. Mostly, though, I owe my success to the mentoring and encouragement of the trailblazers who went before me.

Pritchard [26] was also a pioneer in emphasizing the personal characteristics that lead to admirable ethical behavior in engineering, as opposed to dwelling on engineering failures, a concept that I have found useful in connecting with engineering students.

Figure 4.Prof. Herkert delivering the 2010 Annual Brian O’Connell Memorial Lecture at Central Connecticut State University (CCSU). Photo courtesy of CCSU.

As I hope that this memoir has made clear, my work in engineering ethics education has been highly interdisciplinary, involving many collaborations and building on the work of numerous pioneers in the field. Throughout my career, I have been blessed with the support of colleagues, friends, and students in following and sometimes “paving” the path that these trailblazers have set forth. My advice to other academic engineers looking to contribute to the field would be to: 1) engage in faculty development activities to the fullest extent possible; 2) explore ethics-related activities within the professional societies in your engineering field; 3) attend and network in both engineering and ethics conferences and meetings; 4) embrace interdisciplinary collaborations; and 5) especially for early-career faculty, be prepared for skepticism about your work from engineers, philosophers, and others indisposed to engaging in interdisciplinary inquiry. Though the trail can be frustrating at times, it is well worth the journey!