Intertwining the Rings of Responsibility

by Kirsten McHugh, with thanks for editing by Howard Gardner and Lynn Barendsen

A popular activity coming out of The GoodWork Toolkit is “Thinking About Responsibility”. The activity asks the reader to “Think about an activity or work that is particularly important for you” and poses a simple but poignant question: “In this work, to whom or what do you feel responsible?”.

The Good Project relates the answers to these questions to what is termed “The Rings of Responsibility”. As seen in the graphic below, the rings are described as:

• responsibility to the self;

• responsibility to others (including family, peers, and colleagues);

• responsibility to the workplace;

• responsibility to the domain or profession; and

• responsibility to society.

In general, individuals—and especially young persons—tend to focus on the tightest rings, the self and others (e.g., close friends and family). Working adults often include their place of business, and sometimes the sector in which they work. Only the rare person—mostly older “trustees”—thinks about their relationship to the broadest society and to the whole planet. One reason why Greta Thunberg is so unusual is that, while still a young person, she has focused on responsibilities to the planet.

With all the recent changes to our daily lives and upheaval in our social and political realms, many of us have broadened the ambit of our thinking. The Rings of Responsibility can help us to conceptualize and to understand how current events may have nuanced our answers to the question “to whom or what do you feel responsible?”

The pandemic has made many of us more aware of how interconnected we all are—from our own social circles, to local communities, and even to our fellow human beings around the world. It has also brought up new ethical considerations. We wear masks in part to protect ourselves, but mostly to protect others, including persons whom we do not know. We have groceries packed by individuals who are exposed to others or delivered to our home by people whom we do not know. Front line workers from countries that we have not visited and may not have heard of risk their own lives—and put household family members at risk—in order to care for the sick. Our decisions not to shop in brick-and-mortar stores cause people to lose their jobs and whole companies to declare bankruptcy. Migrant workers who we count to clean our buildings are not allowed to return to their home country or to come back to ours. Women shoulder the brunt of household responsibilities and family care, despite one in three being an “essential worker.”

Looking at this change through the lens of the Rings of Responsibility, we can see how this crisis has expanded our purview past our normal consideration of the self and others, and pushed us to examine the outer rings in ways that we may not have been quite as aware of in the past. As a result, some of us are now seeing the rings as connected and intertwined rather than as distinct from one other. In some cases, this pushes us to act differently than we may have in the past. Among our own research team, one member has continued to pay their housekeeper even though she has not been able to come to work for three months. Similarly, another member paid pre-school tuition for four months even though the school was closed and the child was uninterested in engaging with teachers online.

The Black Lives Matter movement provides yet another impetus to reflect on the Rings of Responsibility. As many of us personally acknowledge that we may not have been as active as we would like to have been in the past, and use that as motivation to be more hands on at this time, we should also remember to address issues in our workplaces and professional domains. Perhaps your organization has always hired from within its own convenient networks, but the movement has made it clear that it is time to explore new avenues for engaging a more diverse pool of recruits. Put in Good Project terms—if you haven’t in the past, it is now time to move beyond the “neighborly morality” of hiring and promoting those from within your own community and begin to consider responsibility to the domain and society through diverse recruiting strategies. Efforts towards these outer rings can help contribute to a more equitable society moving forward. 

The ways in which each individual translates a renewed sense of responsibility into action will be unique and depend heavily on their role and profession. For example, a police officer assigned to a peaceful protest march might chose to walk alongside community members in solidarity; a sports journalist who wouldn’t normally cover the movement might feature a story about changing a racist team name or a story about an international athlete taking a knee in support of Black Lives Matter; a history teacher might create and share out age appropriate lesson plans outside of the expected curriculum, linking this movement to similar efforts in the past. Just recently, the head of NBCUniversal News Group announced his 50% Diversity Challenge (a commitment to hiring 50% women and 50% people of color), PepsiCo Inc. and Mars Inc. announced their dropping of Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben’s brand lines due to racist roots, and high-ranking officers are speaking out against military bases named after confederate generals. We each have different levels of influence within our workplaces, and yet we all play a role in contributing to or deconstructing systems of oppression within professional domains.

The current pandemic and Black Lives Matter movement have pushed some of our thinking past the inner rings of self-others-workplace and further into the outer rings concerning the domains in which we work and the societies in which we live. In some cases, we have also begun to see and feel the interconnectedness of these rings and the effects of our actions within them. For this, perhaps we might also consider a more interconnected image of the rings (below) alongside the traditional bullseye (seen above).

Has your answer to the question, “To whom or what do you feel responsible?” changed over the past year? Have you considered how you can address these issues in your various rings of responsibility? More specifically, have you reconsidered your workplace hiring strategies? Have you shifted contributions to a new charity, or decided to donate time to a different organization? Have you considered a career change to directly address these issues in your professional life?

If you feel moved to share your own reflection on your responsibilities with us, The Good Project has expanded our efforts to improve our curriculum so that it better reflects the diversity of human experience. As we strive for greater variety and representation in our dilemmas, we are asking individuals to submit their own stories of responsibility by clicking the button below.

The Debate Over “Free Speech”: What Role Do Values Play?

by Danny Mucinskas

On July 7, 2020, Harper’s Magazine published an online letter titled “A Letter on Open Justice and Debate,” which warned readers of a “censoriousness” and “intolerance of opposing views” that appears to be spreading in the culture of the United States, leading to “public shaming and ostracism” and “calls for swift and severe retribution.” The letter was signed by dozens of prominent academics, writers, and others from across the political spectrum, including Margaret Atwood, Noam Chomsky, Francis Fukuyama, Linda Greenwood, Wynton Marsalis, Salman Rushdie, and Gloria Steinem.

Overall, the signatories expressed concern that free speech is being restricted, warning that lack of open debate “invariably hurts those who lack power and makes everyone less capable of democratic participation.” They cite no specific cases but are ostensibly referring to several incidents that occurred in the wake of racial justice protests around the country, such as the firing of data analyst David Shor for posting research supporting non-violent protests and the resignation of James Bennet of The New York Times following the publication of a controversial op-ed from Sen. Tom Cotton of Arkansas calling for military intervention to quell unrest.

The letter immediately sparked controversy and criticism from detractors. Some felt that the letter was an attempt by those in positions of power to simply preserve ability to speak with impunity. Members of the transgender community spoke out, believing the letter to be problematic, especially as it had been endorsed by J.K. Rowling, who has recently come under fire for intolerance towards trans women. Others questioned why the letter was even published, at a time when the world is dealing with a global pandemic and the United States is facing a reckoning over racial violence and inequity. At least one signatory retracted her name, while another apologized for signing.

Others who signed have doubled down, though, saying that free speech and debate is a core tenet of liberalism, and that only by continuing to engage with and argue against opinions that we find uncomfortable will society make progress towards being more just and free.

One of The Good Project’s core principles is that personal views on contentious issues and dilemmas are influenced by the values that each of us believe are important, values such as those contained within our value sort activity. For example, an individual who values honesty above all else may choose not to cheat on a test; someone who values material well-being may choose to take a well-paying job they don’t enjoy simply to get a higher salary.

On a political level, Jonathan Haidt (who also signed the Harper’s letter), a social psychologist at New York University, has proposed moral foundations theory as a way to explain our policy preferences and reactions to social debates. Moral foundations theory proposes six core universal tensions that influence our views of ethical questions:

• Care vs. harm

• Fairness vs. cheating

• Loyalty vs. betrayal

• Authority vs. subversion

• Sanctity vs. degradation

• Liberty vs. oppression

Haidt’s research has shown that political preferences in the United States are tied to these foundations, with liberals prioritizing the care/harm and fairness/cheating dynamics above others and conservatives valuing all six foundations more equally. In the same way that differences in values cause people to make different individual decisions, the prioritization of moral foundations causes people to come to different political conclusions, aligning themselves with certain ideas, parties, or policies. The way that these foundations manifest in people’s opinions can also sometimes be confusing and vary or seem to conflict depending on the issue: someone who values the liberty of free speech may oppose abortion rights, an issue affecting women’s liberty, for reasons of sanctity; someone might support a free childcare policy for reasons of care, but oppose debt forgiveness for educational loans for reasons of fairness.

Perhaps the debate sparked by the Harper’s letter is a conflict between moral foundations of liberty and care playing out on the U.S. national stage. Should the liberty of free speech be valued at all costs, even if it causes harm to particular people or marginalized groups? Or should care be valued at all costs, even if it completely silences people from being able to express alternative viewpoints with liberty? Where is the line between these two extremes?

When I complete the value sort exercise, my most important values include “openness,” or being receptive to new ideas, and “pursuit of common good.” Perhaps this is why my opinions on this debate may feel frustratingly “in the middle” in an era of ever more polarized conversation on social media and a climate in which extreme views get the most attention in our media.

In my view, no person is entitled to have their opinions go unquestioned, and the panic surrounding “cancel culture,” which some of the signatories are likely reacting to, seems unfounded. Individuals with public platforms, including the letter’s endorsers, should always be prepared to defend their stances to others, such as those on social media who may disagree with their stances, sometimes in large numbers in a way that can be overwhelming. This is not “canceling,” but is a form of debate in itself. At the same time, we should not simply silence opinions we disagree with, or dole out extreme punishments for making mistakes. Changing other people’s values often takes engagement and convincing, not berating and silencing. As The Better Arguments Project (with which The Good Project recently collaborated) and their “Five Principles of a Better Argument” illustrate, debates require participants to listen passionately, embrace vulnerability, and make room to transform, even when we absolutely disagree and want to take a stand for our side.

However, I am only a single individual, and the majority view on these issues is likely to decide how care and liberty are to be prioritized and debates over free speech are to be resolved, if at all, since the fault lines represented by the moral foundations have existed in American society for centuries. Additionally, individual sectors, such as journalism, may develop new standards regarding speech that will set the norms for that field and the actors within it. For now, the answers to the questions I pose are difficult to discern, as we seem to be in the middle of a culture shift that will define the bounds of acceptability for years to come.

When does free speech “cross a line”? What consequences should an individual face for crossing that line? At what point could stifling free speech or shaming particular speech become dangerous? What values are most important to you in forming these opinions? If you are outside the United States, are there parallel or similar debates occurring in your country?

Recommended Reading: The “free speech debate” isn’t really about free speech

A Resurgence of interest in Existential Intelligence: Why now?

By Howard Gardner

Recently, I have noticed an interesting phenomenon: an uptick in the number of inquiries I receive about “existential intelligence” (which I’ve abbreviated as Ex I). I have become intrigued by the reason for this phenomenon and how to respond to it.

Let me explain.

A dozen years after I introduced the theory of multiple intelligences (1983), I speculated about the possibility of a 9th or “existential intelligence.” As I described it at the time, “existential intelligence” is the cognitive capacity to raise and ponder “big questions”—queries about love, about evil, about life and death— indeed, about the nature and quality of existence. I quipped that these are the questions that nearly every child raises—but most young people are more engaged in asking the question than in pondering the possible answers. “Existential questions” are the particular purview of philosophers and religious leaders, but most of us ponder them from time to time, and they are raised regularly in works of art and literature.

At the time I hesitated to anoint this candidate as a “full-fledged intelligence.” I was uncertain about some kind of brain or neurological basis for this capacity (one of the criteria I had proposed for an independent intelligence); whether it was a universal capacity or one that only emerged in a post-Socratic society; and, most fundamentally, whether it might genuinely be considered a separate intelligence, or just an amalgam of several already identified intelligences—perhaps linguistic, logical- mathematical, and the personal intelligences. Also, I insisted that existential intelligence was not in and of itself a religious or spiritual or sacred capacity; as I quipped, “If I announced a spiritual intelligence, it might please some of my friends, but it would also delight my enemies.”

In the intervening period, though much of my correspondence still concerns “MI” theory, I have gone on to other pursuits (see the thegoodproject.org). In particular, I am no longer in the business of announcing or denouncing candidate intelligences. Of course, individuals have always been free to describe other intelligences—and, on the basis of some intriguing evidence from developmental psychology, I myself sometimes speculate about a “pedagogical” or “teaching intelligence.”

Back to the correspondence: some writers want to know whether “Ex I” has passed the test and is now officially an intelligence. (Answer: “Sorry, no, It’s still in limbo.) Some writers want a test for “Ex I,” or claim that they have already created a test. (Answer: “No test from me, but if you send me your sample test, I’ll give you some feedback.”) And whether explicitly or implicitly, some writers assume that existential intelligence has been established—it is a genuine phenomenon—and that it is the same as “spiritual” or “religious” intelligence. (Answer: “the candidate intelligence features the raising and pondering of big questions; these can certainly include spiritual or religious issues thought they need not—pondering the universe or a grain of sand qualify as well. And please do not assume that I am promoting any specific religion, or religion in general—though it’s fine if you do so in your own name.”)

Of course, the raising of questions about existential intelligence might just be a fluke or a coincidence—perhaps next year, it will be bodily intelligence or musical intelligence or computer intelligence (a favorite some years ago). But I suspect that there is another phenomenon at work in others and in myself.

Almost no one in the world was prepared for the COVID-19 pandemic. Suddenly, immediate and long-term plans have had to be scuttled; daily routines have been substantially altered for months, with no end in sight; we need to protect ourselves and others every waking hour; and, alas, many have lost their livelihoods and their security and some have lost their lives. Except for those on the front lines (to whom we will always be indebted) many of us have additional time available. And while we can and of course do while away the time in many ways, some of that time may well be devoted to the pondering of Big Questions—the kinds of questions that many of us pondered as children, or at times of change or crisis—but are now confronting most of the conscious world. I suspect that some of my correspondents may well be devoting significant amounts of time to pondering such life-and-death issues and wondering about the ontological status of this capacity—more concretely, whether it draws on existential intelligence.

As I reflect on my own preoccupations, I find evidence for this trend. In my case, it began in 2016 with the election of Donald Trump and my worries about the threats to democracy, decency, and to other values that I hold dear. I began to read books (e.g. 1984, The Plot Against America, It Can’t happen Here) and watch movies (A Face in the Crowd, All the King’s Men, Casablanca) that deal with the delicate state of democratic institutions and values at a time of nationalism, xenophobia, the rise of fascism, loss of status, and the like.

The advent of COVID-19 constituted an additional whammy. I should say, at the start, that my wife and my immediate family are fortunate—far more fortunate than most—in that we have been safe and secure to this point. And I have been able to continue much of my work in my home and in daily—sometimes hourly—online conversations with colleagues. But of course, much of the world is not in that protected situation. Moreover, I’ve been personally shocked by the number of individuals, particularly in the United States, who do not take the pandemic seriously and openly defy advice and even mandates to protect themselves and—more importantly—to protect others.

The combination of threats, on the one hand, and time to think, on the other, has also affected the timing of my thinking and what I think and read about. Each morning, at the crack of dawn, I walk around the neighborhood for the better part of an hour—and each evening before I go to sleep—I recline in bed for a comparable length of time—and simply think about things—including the themes of this blog post. I had never engaged in either of these activities before. And much of the unstructured time is spent pondering big questions—including ones that deserve to be called existential. Of course, some of this cognitive wandering may simply reflect my age and point in the life cycle—I am 77 years old and have had significant health challenges. As my mentor the psychoanalyst Erik Erikson put it, this last stage of life is a time to weigh feelings of integrity versus feelings of despair. But some of this mental meandering seems to be tied more closely to the events in the world. I’ve been reading “big books” about Western and Eastern philosophy and watching many American and British movies from the 1930s and 1940s, a time similar to ours in some ways.

Most directly related to the topic of this blog, recently my wife and I have been re-reading Albert Camus’ famous novel La Peste (usually translated as The Plague). Camus describes the sudden eruption of a plague in a North African city and the way in which this epidemic disrupts all the lives of the city’s inhabitants and causes many deaths. The novel can be read simply as the account of a terrible disease and its expected as well as its surprising sequelae.

But in my view The Plague is fundamentally an essay on the essential meaninglessness of life and the need, accordingly, for all of us to seek to make meaning. The plague itself has no meaning. This message comes out most dramatically in the vignette of the Jesuit priest, Paneloux, who castigates his congregation for not behaving well enough and having been accordingly punished by God with the deadly disease. But before he himself succumbs to the plague, as he watches the cruel suffering of a young boy, the priest comes to realize that there is no hidden message of reward or revenge in the plague—as we might say today, “it is what it is.” Camus’ message: plagues never go away. They erupt, then hide, and can fester and reappear at any time in our lives. Hence, our only choice is to make meaning out of the brief time we have on earth. Perhaps the most important meaning is decency towards our fellow humans.

There is a name for this perspective—existential philosophy. Though one can find roots of existentialism in the Greeks, particularly the Stoics, it is generally attributed to the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, and to the 20th century French writers Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus. And while many other writers (and other artists and even, occasionally, political leaders) across the world and across topics now reflect an existential perspective, I find it best captured in Camus’ brief novel.

And so even if I had not noticed an uptick in my mailbox, I would still have been engaged in using (and pondering the nature of) my existential intelligence. I thank my correspondents for bringing this latent motive into my consciousness—and I am pleased to have the opportunity to share it with you.

© Howard Gardner 2020

Drawing the Line: Dealing with Difficult Dilemmas

By Howard Gardner

By definition, dilemmas are difficult situations where the optimal course of action is unclear. Recently, two dilemmas facing our society have emerged with considerable force. Not only do they call for resolution, they encourage us to reflect on how best to anticipate, think about, and resolve a range of difficult choices.

Dilemma # 1­   Retaining or Expurgating Names, Monuments, Flags  

In appreciation of their accomplishments or gifts, certain persons or acts have been singled out for recognition.  We name entities after presidents and kings; we mount statues that glorify personalities or actions; we display or give special status to flags, or pennants.  Under what conditions should these forms of recognition be withdrawn and how should that de-valuation be carried out?

Dilemma #2 How Professionals Should Conduct Themselves:  The Case of Journalism

In the wake of the progressive era in the early years of the 20th century, news reporters in the United States were expected to be as objective and disinterested as possible:  just report the facts and leave interpretations and personal views to the side (or, at any rate, to the editorial columns).  This commitment has gradually eroded. Nowadays, reporters frequently have their own twitter accounts in which they do not hesitate to express their own views and attitudes on matters of consequence—and even if these views are not explicitly interwoven into their news reports, the attentive reader knows what the reporter “really” thinks about the personalities and issues being covered.  Should reporters be encouraged, allowed, or prohibited from tweeting on anything related to their day job? And if allowed, should any constraints be placed on these forms of expression?

Recently I have been drawn into discussions of both dilemmas. To be sure, these dilemmas are quite distinct from one another.  And yet, despite such differences, I suggest that they raise similar issues about whether, and, if so, where to draw the line.  Indeed, insights with respect to this pair of dilemmas may prove more useful generally.

In each of the cases, it is straight-forward to delineate the extreme positions: 

With respect to Dilemma #1

Extreme Position A  

The individuals who created the commemoration did so in good faith and, in fact, in most cases, the commemoration has stood the test of time. It is unfair to the originators, and a disservice to history, to attempt to erase the deeds (or, even, the misdeeds) of the past.

Extreme Position B

Any person or entity that is connected to slavery (or criminal activity, racism, misogyny, or some other disreputable act or viewpoint) should not be honored in any public way.  

With respect to Dilemma #2

Extreme Position A

Journalists, like professionals, have been afforded status and a sacred trust to report the news objectively.  Their first and most important obligation is to do everything in their powers to earn and retain that trust. While it is never possible to be confident that one has been completely objective, journalists should strive for this ideal.

Extreme Position B

The vaunted objectivity of journalism has co-occurred with enormous imbalances of power, coverage, and accuracy—some intentional, some incidental.  Journalists have the most detailed knowledge of what has happened and why.  Accordingly, they have the right—even the obligation—to call it as they see it via whatever media are at their disposal. It is never possible to be completely objective.  Thus, journalists should make clear their positions on matters where they are convinced that one party is right, and the other wrong—and equally, with respect to public personalities whose behavior they value or disdain.

With respect to both dilemmas, certain factors may predict the stance that individuals will take.

Extreme position A tends to be taken by older persons, often from the ranks of the better treated demographies.  Extreme position B tends to be taken by younger persons, and particularly those from groups that have not been well treated.  Of course, the generations are just a rough rule of thumb—there will always be other factors that contribute to one’ s stance on vexing issues.

Further, with respect to both dilemmas, some of us are more likely to be absolutists.  Others of us will search for common ground (or compromise or intermediate position) and are more prepared to change our minds.

Speaking for myself, probably reflecting my age, background, and societal niche, I have found myself closer to position A—quite publicly with respect to Dilemma #2. I believe that professions (law, medicine, journalism) represent a formidable human invention over the centuries:  they should be defended as vigorously as possible.  And with respect to Dilemma #1, as a person who is historically-minded, I am doubtful about attempts to re-write history, which we associate with fiction like Orwell’s 1984, and with actual events and periods, such as those of Stalinist Russia and Maoist China (and, alas, more current examples leap to mind).

At the same time, as someone who aspires to think of himself as open-minded—as prepared to change his mind—I have read and listened carefully to those who have put forth alternative perspectives. As I like to put it—on very few matters am I a fundamentalist:  A person with a commitment not to change my mind.  Indeed, with respect to this pair of dilemmas, I am eager to formulate an approach—process—that moves toward a cogent and defensible middle ground.

To achieve this ambitious goal, we should take three steps:

1. A clear delineation of the pros and cons—the rewards and the costs-- of each extreme position

2. An in-depth discussion of what might constitute one or more viable intermediate positions

3. A process for arriving at and adopting that middle ground, giving it a try, and determining whether it has been successful and which significant alterations tweaks might be indicated---including, when necessary, a return to the ‘drawing boards”

Needless to say, as always characterizes issues of consequence, “the devil is in the details.”

To start this process off, here are some consideration:

With respect to the dilemma of commemoration:

• Names, banners/flags/ monuments are not the same; different processes might be appropriate for each form of commemoration; these processes should be spelled out and followed carefully;

• A decision to remove some form of commemoration should not be an attempt to erase it from history; at times  when such a removal is made,  a documentation of the process should be carried out, the reasons for it delineated, and the preservation of that record ensured;

• A decision to retain some form of commemoration does not imply endorsement; indeed, some form of discussion, history, pros and cons should be encouraged, displayed, and periodically revisited;

With respect to the dilemma of the profession of journalism:

• It should be recognized that objectivity/disinterestedness is at most an aspiration, no one can be fully objective or dis-interested;

• Inequities over time in power and influence should be recognized and addressed: If, as an example, editors and reporters have not been representative of the diversity and the demographics of a society, that imbalance should be addressed directly;

• Reporters should have the option of declaring that they will not text or tweet on any public matter, editors should respect that decision, and such reporters should be publicly identified as non-tweeters, just as those who tweet or text already identify themselves in that way;

• Publications should also clarify their position on such extra forms of publicity;

• If, going forth, reporters and editors observe these new guidelines, they should not be sanctioned or fired for earlier violations;

• Across the professions (e.g. law, education, journalism), the same kinds of guidelines should be encouraged and observed.  Indeed, such publicly articulated and carefully executed processes constitute the essence of a profession;

Concluding notes

I would be pleased—but also astonished—if most persons who read these proposals would simply endorse them.  But the point is less to prescribe than propose a process whereby the extreme positions can be bridged.  Extreme absolutist positions rarely make sense in the long run; indeed, they often result in a lurch, an over-reaction in the diametrically opposite direction.

More important, the process of negotiating, of searching for middle ground, may be salutary in itself.  It may be comfortable to be surrounded by people who agree completely with oneself; but it’s preferable to encounter people with whom one may disagree but who seek to find a common ground and to lay out the principles  and the processes that have proved efficacious 

The stance that I am recommending lies at the heart of a broad education—an education in the liberal arts. And while such an education does not always yield individuals who can listen carefully, reflect clearly, and search for a reasonable middle ground, its absence makes such aspirations difficult to achieve.

That is the kind of education that I favor—and the kind of society I would like to live in.

Note: I thank my colleagues on the Good Project for their comments on earlier drafts

© Howard Gardner 2020

Teaching “Good Work” in the Law

A guest post, by John Bliss , Assistant Professor at Sturm College of Law

Imagine you have just graduated from college and that you are deeply concerned about racial justice, pandemics, climate change, global inequality, or other major public policy challenges. Given these concerns, how do you shape an impactful career of meaningful work?

For many, the answer is: Attend law school. As a law professor, I am perhaps a little biased when I say that this is a pretty good answer. Law schools produce a wide range of graduates at the front lines of social justice and other important causes, including the day-to-day work of proficiently helping clients understand and navigate the law. But legal education also has enormous room for improvement, which has been the focus of my empirical research over the past twelve years.

Using a variety of methods and comparing over time and across national contexts, I have been studying how initially idealistic law students tend to drift away from the public-interest values and career aspirations that drew them to law school. This drift appears to be influenced by a range of factors—among them, financial considerations, law school peer culture, traditional legal pedagogy, the law-firm recruiting process, and the limited availability of jobs in full-time public interest legal practice. Law schools cannot easily control all of these factors, but I do believe that we can develop curriculum to help reduce this drift effect.

Working with The Good Project and law faculty colleagues, I have recently been developing such curriculum in the hope that our students will sustain public-interest values, whether those values lead to careers in the non-profit or private sector. I began these efforts in 2017 while a resident fellow at the Harvard Law School Center on the Legal Profession. During my fellowship, I became acquainted with Professor Howard Gardner and was introduced to the Good Project team that he leads. With support and collaboration from the Good Project, I piloted workshops at Harvard Law School with first-year students focusing on professional identity and public-interest commitments. In my current position at the University of Denver Sturm College of Law, I have been expanding this curriculum in collaboration with Professor Alexi Freeman. Professor Freeman is experienced in activist lawyering, writes extensively about how law curriculum can better address social justice causes, and runs the public interest and externship programs at Denver Law. In the past academic year, we recruited 32 public-interest-oriented students into what we call the “1L Public Good Program.” In addition to community building and professional identity workshops, we required our students to engage in 20 hours of pro bono fieldwork in public service settings.

In our workshops, we introduced The Good Project’s “Good Work” perspective and toolkit as we discussed identity, values, theories of justice and social change, and pathways into public-regarding legal careers. We devoted one session entirely to the “triple helix” or “three Es” of Good Work, which is Excellent, Engaged, and Ethical. Because this session was offered remotely via Zoom in the spring 2020 pandemic context, we developed some interactive online tools, including having students collaborate on a Google spreadsheet to list and categorize the traits of Good Work. Students were quick to recognize interrelationships among the three Es. For example, the Excellence category covered technical proficiency but also passion, dedication, inclusiveness, and responsibility to broader communities. We also had students create a “Mentimeter” word map to describe what Good Work would look like for a lawyer. Some of the largest (most frequently cited) terms in the word map were “moral,” “empathetic,” “altruistic,” and “activist.” This exercise revealed students shared values and aspirations for impactful practice. Students also included the term “innovative,” which sparked a discussion of the need to think proactively and outside the box when seeking to address systemic causes of injustice. Finally, we discussed the long-term challenge of seeking “flow” and the integration of personal and professional identities within legal practice. We reminded students that, as Gardner, Csikszentmihalyi, and Damon put it in Good Work: When Excellent and Ethics Meet, “rich lives include continuing internal conversations about who we are, what we want to achieve, where we are successful, and where we are falling short. … It takes a lifetime to achieve such an integration.”

Student feedback about our pilot run of the 1L Public Good Program has been overwhelmingly positive. They appreciated the community of like-minded peers and faculty, and the opportunity to start mentorship relationships with Professor Freeman and myself rooted in conversations about public service, social change, and Good Work. The students emphasized that this programming helped them stay focused on public interest goals and values during a stressful first year of law school.

We are in the early stages of developing assessment tools that we will use in the coming years to empirically examine how the Program is impacting students. At this point, I am confident in saying that the Program and the application of Good Work in legal education show great promise. Law is a field with enormous potential to promote Good Work, as it draws students who seek careers of intrinsic motivation (Engagement), professional skill (Excellence), and public service impact (Ethics). As a legal educator, I believe it is my job to foster these commitments and help students reflect on what kind of lawyers they want to be and what kind of impacts they want to have. I would be more than happy to be contacted by anyone in professional schools or higher education more generally who is seeking to integrate The Good Project materials into their teaching and curriculum.