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What
Have You Done For Me Lately?
By Dan Carlson
In
1995, Aaron Feuerstein did a very
good thing.
When
Malden Mills, his Massachusetts-based
textile company burned to the ground
in December of that year, Feuerstein
did something well beyond any ethical
obligation ... he kept paying all
of his out-of-work employees as he
went about the task of rebuilding.
Widely praised for demonstrating solid
commitment to both his employees and
his community, Feuerstein dismisses
his hero status this way: "You're
supposed to do what's right because
it's right, not because there's a
payoff."
By
late 2001, though, Malden Mills was
short of cash, and Feuerstein was
asking his creditors for an additional
loan in order to keep the company
afloat. They agreed to assist, but
only if he were to file for bankruptcy,
thereby insuring they would be repaid
first if the company failed. Feuerstein
"begged them on my knees"
to let him avoid bankruptcy, but finally
realized it would be the only way
he could get the financial assistance
he needed.
So
here's the question ... given the
manner in which Feuerstein immediately
stepped forward to do "the right
thing" for his workers and community
when his factory burned in 1995, do
people have an ethical responsibility
to stand beside and support him now
that he needs their assistance? And
regardless of our views on the Malden
Mills situation, is it possible to
find any parallels in the law enforcement
community?
Recently
a well-respected twenty-three year
veteran deputy chief from a mid-sized
police agency made a shocking announcement:
"I'm retiring in March ... I've
had enough." Drawing a deep breath
and shaking his head, he explained
how "constant battle" with
the various employee unions and associations
in his department had simply worn
him down. "Look at it this way,"
he said, "when the PBA comes
to us and asks to negotiate on, say,
ten items, we may yield on nine while
remaining firm on the tenth ... and
that becomes the core of the problem
... the PBA never talks about how
we gave in on nine things ... they
focus only on our refusal to acquiesce
to number ten."
This
deputy chief was not driven to retire
by the often-contentious interactions
that seem to characterize the realm
of employee-employer relations; after
many years representing the department
in negotiations, he was accustomed
to that. No, for him the final straw
came when he witnessed a growing willingness
on the part of employee groups to
take their displeasure to the next
level ... late last year the PBA (after
a number of threats to do so) went
public with a "vote of no confidence"
in the chief, accompanied by a well-orchestrated
plan to pillory the command staff
through political channels and the
media.
In
a recent edition of a statewide police
association newsletter, one article
was dedicated to listing and profiling
a number of police leaders seen as
forward-looking and responsive to
the needs of line officers in their
communities. In one city, the local
chapter president made several favorable
comments about the current police
chief, but then went on to say a bit
more than he may have intended ...
in describing his own role, the chapter
president said he saw himself as necessarily
always taking a position in opposition
to the chief. Is that true? Should
the union leader always and automatically
assume that posture? Or could there
be occasions when the employee association,
in recognition of some accomplishment
by department leaders (a pay raise
or new union-sought work rules, for
example) should step forward and support
- even praise - agency supervisors
and managers?
Without
question, many police leaders turn
to Niccolo Machiavelli rather than
Steven Covey for leadership guidance,
and police unions have their work
cut out for them in changing the often-archaic
thinking of those individuals. But
isn't it possible that sometimes department
bosses really do make decisions with
the best interests of all members
of the agency in mind? And couldn't
we assume that at least once in a
while their hearts are in the right
place? And further, is it unreasonable
to hope that from time to time an
association might muffle its seeming
endless cascade of criticism in favor
of an occasional nugget of praise
or public endorsement for department
leadership?
Speaking
at a conference several years ago,
former Minneapolis police chief Tony
Bouza made one of his typically-provocative
observations. In discussing his experiences
in law enforcement leadership, he
shared his unrequited dream that the
day would come when a patrol officer
in his agency would rise to his feet
in the roll call room, turn to his
peers and say "Look, the chief
is not an [expletive deleted]. He's
just a guy trying to do the best he
can to make good decisions. And he
really does support us." His
dream, by the way, remains unfulfilled;
he left Minneapolis before that day
ever came to pass.
Clearly,
when circumstances call for it, employee
associations have a fiduciary responsibility
to speak up and work aggressively
for change. But shouldn't there be
an equally-powerful ethical duty for
such organizations to seek balance
in the way they use their influence?
In other words, shouldn't those groups
be prepared to throw bouquets (at
least sometimes) as well as stones?
There is, after all, considerable
truth in the old saying that "Even
a broken wristwatch is right twice
a day."
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