THE WORLD TRADE CENTER: MORALITY LAB

I came to the World Trade Center in early 2002 expecting to find a disaster zone, which I certainly did. But I also found an important surprise. I can’t imagine that I was the only one to walk away from the WTC with these impressions and with these ideas running through my mind, but if anyone else has tread this ground, I haven’t seen it, and it is far too important to let pass in silence.

I came to this story on my usual beat – construction. It happened that my old friend Jack Pullizzi was overseeing emergency repairs at the Verizon Building. (The older, 32-story building notched into the World Trade Center site. It suffered heavy damage on 9/11.) I was unaware of this at the time, and was scheduled to be in New York for a convention. I sent Jack an email saying, “Hey, I’m coming to NYC. Wanna get lunch?” His reply was, “Sure, but I’d like you to come see my new project.”

As any of us would, I toured the site reverently, and with considerable satisfaction that I was able to stand on a modern version of sanctified ground. But the experience was not what I had expected. Upon returning home, I recounted the experience to friends and relatives. Every one of them asked, “So, was it eerie?” And every time I answered, saying “No; far from it.” 

The truth is that something very special happened in the ruins with the construction workers; something that is extremely rare in modern life and worthy of some attention.

WHAT MAKES A STAND-UP GUY?

When I returned home, I got an email from another old friend – born and bred in Brooklyn, interestingly enough, decrying the dearth of ‘stand-up guys’ in modern life, and asking, “Just what is it that makes someone into a stand-up guy?”    
I couldn’t help thinking about the construction workers down in the hole at the WTC. Somehow, they were turned into seriously-good stand-up guys (as I will shortly explain), and I was compelled to understand how and why. I had a clear impression that my friend’s question was just the catalyst I needed to make sense of it all. 

Now, I want to digress for a moment: I don’t like the popular negative characterizations of construction workers. We are the people who build everything you see. If not for us, you’d be living in whatever type of shack you could patch together yourself. We don’t get paid to make pretty little swirls of color, or catchy word patterns, or to guess well at tomorrow’s price of oil. We build things. Real things. Big, heavy, complex things. And if we don t do it just right, these things fall down and hurt people, or electrocute people, or maybe just leak on people. There is no subjectivity in our work and no grading on a curve. Either it works correctly or it doesn’t. We deal in reality, and with the unforgiving standard that reality sets.

So, I will take no part in characterizing construction workers as ignorant, belching oafs, butt cracks blazing. Yes, we do have a few embarrassing guys among us, but so does every large group of people.  

All this being said, construction workers are no less likely than any other group of folks to trade a minor ethical violation for good money. Except this time. This was different, and I needed to know why.

WHAT I FOUND IN THE RUINS

It was a cool, rainy, hazy day. Fitting, I thought. Almost all of the debris had been removed by the time I arrived, which gave us a clean view of just what was missing, and how much work lay before us. The ground was being prepared for Building 7 to be rebuilt. A few stray steel beams still protruded from the ground. They were buried so deeply that it made no sense to dig them out; they were simply cut-back and abandoned.

There were no more body parts, no more personal papers. The sickening parts of the job were done, and I was disappointed about that. A great harm had been done, and I would have liked to have done the dirtiest of the dirty work in restoring it. I hadn’t made it there soon enough. But I did feel privileged to have made it there at all. Millions of other people wanted to stand where I was standing, and couldn’t.

I was far from alone in my attitude. I picked up similar feelings from all the workers on the site. Days later when my friends asked about it I said, proudly, “It wasn’t eerie, it was kick-ass.”  There was righteous anger, there was testosterone, there was active intelligence and creativity. There were no illusions, no excuses, only purpose and action.

Jack asked me there to review the electrical power systems, more or less as a sanity check. Thus began a day of epiphanies for me. Every new piece of information spawned several cross-references in my mind. Every fact implied a lesson. I thanked God for a good memory; scribbling notes in the rain was not going to work.

The first item on the agenda was the 13,000 volt electrical service to the building. It was running over an aluminum scaffold, inside of a plywood box, bridging Barclay Street. Now, you may be thinking, “13,000 volt wires, running over an aluminum scaffold? That doesn’t sound very safe!” And, of course, you would be right. There’s no way this installation would be acceptable in any normal circumstance. But in this case there wasn’t much choice. An “approved” installation wouldn’t be possible here for months, maybe a lot of months. Con Edison’s system was in tatters, leaving the guys on the job to make do with what they had. So, the rules went out the window and Jack & Co. had to improvise: Come up with something that will work, and that won’t kill anyone, or else Verizon shuts, Wall Street shuts, and half of New York has no telephones. Following the rules was simply overridden by reality.

It was this “primacy of reality over rules” that gave me my first glimpse into the special little universe that was the WTC, post-9/11.

Most of us spend our lives well-insulated from the forces of nature. While this is quite reasonable, it does promote something of a mental disconnect. The workers at Verizon went face-to-face with the forces of nature, including the souped-up natural force of electricity. 13,000 volts will kill you. These men (very few women there, for whatever it’s worth) had no way of doing the job by the book. But they still had to make it safe and functional. It brought to mind an old quote, attributed to the Dalai Lama, and which I also paraphrase: Learn the rules well, so you will be able to break them properly.

“Breaking the rules properly…” I thought, “that’s exactly what is going on here.” 

I liked the rawness of the situation, and I envied Jack. We were about the same age, we had similar backgrounds in our business, and we had both developed our skills to a high level. But he got the job of a lifetime and I didn’t. Jack was in a rare position, where he needed to draw upon everything he had ever learned, pull it together in some new, creative combination, and save the day… day after day. I’ve never had the chance to use my abilities all-out, and I probably never will.

A MORAL TEST LAB

I’ll skip other electrical and construction details and get to the day’s big surprise. Suffice it to say that there was much more of the same: codes and standards being tossed aside because there was no possible way to keep them, and seasoned construction professionals finding creative ways to assure safety at the same time. Actually, creativity became a fundamental factor. If you were not an independent and creative thinker on this project, you shipped out. There was simply no time to waste on orders from headquarters. Every worker had to solve their own problems. They all reported their actions to Jack at the end of the day, but they didn’t run to him for permissions.

I understood this type of operation – I’ve overseen plenty of emergency work, albeit on a much smaller scale. But I had absolutely no experience with what came next.

Jack explained that after Building 7 had collapsed (for reasons still uncertain), there were continuing partial collapses for some time. Each time, clouds of dust and debris filled the Verizon building. But it was one particular time that he wanted to talk about. On this day, the FBI vault in the basement of Building 7 was crushed in a collapse. “And I swear to you, Paul,” Jack assured me with bulging eyes, “twenty- and fifty-dollar bills came floating through the building!”

Free money… it’s hard to imagine a better setup for a moral dilemma.

I made some comment about the guys being very happy that day. “No!” Jack said, “They wouldn’t touch them!” I looked at him and waited for some elaboration.  Jack took a deep breath and spoke again. “They said ‘that’s not our money, it belongs to other people.’ And they wouldn’t touch it. They wouldn’t allow anyone to touch it. It just sat there until the FBI guys came through and picked it all up.”

When the lure of free money fails, I pay attention. This was no ordinary event: not just a promise of free money, but the actual money itself, openly visible and easily within a hand’s reach. Yet the men wouldn’t touch it. Can you see why the “stand-up guy” question became a big issue to me? Here were dozens, maybe hundreds, of construction workers who refused to take free money – a lot of free money – when there was no enforcer looking over their shoulders. That trashes Hobbesian theory, and shoots Plato full of holes too. These are the supposed foundations of civilization.

I looked at Jack again. He was stone serious; more serious than I had ever seen him.

Just to be sure that everyone is on the same page, let me remind you that Hobbes was the guy who said that a supremely powerful government was necessary to keep us in “terror” and in “awe;” that without it we would degenerate quickly into thieves and killers, and that life would be “nasty, brutish and short.” Plato was very big on managing the mind of the citizens, keeping them sated with “approved myths,” told by “approved myth makers.” The average guy thinking for himself was way too dangerous.

So, I was left with both Plato and Hobbes in tatters, and once again facing my friend’s question. A large group of construction workers were turned into stand-up guys… exemplary stand-up guys.  The blazing question in my mind was, “What was it that turned average construction workers into paragons of ethics?”  Obviously it had everything to do with 9/11, but exactly how?

THE FOUNDATIONS LAID BARE

I’ve always been intrigued by situations where the normal rules of life are suspended. It interests me to see how people act when there is no threat of punishment, and I like the strange feeling of zero restraint. It makes me feel raw and alive. And there’s nothing like   realizing that, with absolutely no threat of recrimination, you naturally prefer to do good.

Looking at Jack’s 13,000 volt wiring, I could almost hear a thousand electrical inspectors screaming “The Code  must be followed!” Yes, of course, I thought, unless it can’t be.  And that was where my mind kept going that day: When the law can’t be enforced, what’s left?

What’s left are the bare foundations: Goodness or evil, benefit or harm, life or death. September 11th laid it all open for New York City. The normative layers set up by society’s overseers were ripped away at the World Trade Center, and a thousand construction workers stood face to face with a raw, ugly reality.

ONE MOMENT OF CLARITY IS BETTER THAN A THOUSAND LAWS

Moments of clarity are far too uncommon in modern life. I suppose that this has always been true, though to a lesser extent at certain times.

9/11 was not only completely engrossing, it was completely clear. Evil men had just destroyed thousands of lives, not to mention a great deal of property. The victims didn’t even know the villains, much less do anything to them.
As the smoke cleared on September 11th, the extent of the evil was obvious. But the good was obvious too, and the men who assembled at the site were determined and honored to be the agents of good, of restoration, and of repair.

I’ve known New York construction workers, and not many of them had any abiding interest in the study of ethics. But now these same men were acting with deep ethical convictions. Obviously it was the change of situation that mattered, not a real change in the men. One’s basic nature does not change in a moment. 

Then I understood. These men had never lacked basic decency, what they had lacked was a clear choice! This was the first time in their lives when the difference between right and wrong had been this clear.

Morality in our time has been widely portrayed as an indistinct morass. As a result, most of us wander in a wide border zone where right and wrong are barely acknowledged. But when that border zone was collapsed on 9/11, these people were proud to react with honor and with strength. There was never a lack of nobility, only the lack of a clear vision.

To these men, it would have been stupid to take $50 bills belonging to others – their conscious sense of righteousness was worth far more. For all their lives, these men will know that when it counted, they stepped up to the task and performed it with honor. And I would bet large that on their death beds, this fact will pass prominently through their minds. They will be proud, and they will have earned it.

Imagine yourself in the situations that left these men with deep satisfaction. Would it still feel the same if there were obligations and threats pushing you to do the right thing? Obviously not. This kind of satisfaction is a recognition of goodness that is released from within, not imposed from above.

And it was certainly not only construction workers who “stepped up,” it was almost the entire city. Catering trucks pulled up and fed the workers for free. Housewives brought clean clothes, massage therapists brought their chairs, there were cheering crowds standing at Canal & West Streets at 2:00am. And here’s an interesting note: The bag people stayed away. Don’t tell me that these people have no innate sense of decorum. What applied to the construction workers applied to these people too: they saw the situation clearly and understood that this was not the time and place for begging. They had the courtesy to ply their trade elsewhere until the restoration was substantially complete.

WHAT THIS MEANS

This means is that defining good and bad is the foundation of moral conduct. This also means that moral relativism is delusion masquerading as enlightenment. It is moral clarity that makes men good, not the elimination of right/wrong choices.

This, of course, leaves us to define the “good.” Honestly, it isn’t that hard. I’ll give you two foundational statements:

1. What is hateful to you, do not do to any man.
2. Do not encroach upon anyone or their property, and keep your agreements.

Number one is the original statement of the Golden Rule, and number two is the essence of the common law – an extension of #1.  That’s all that we really need. Sure, a professional philosopher can come up with strange exceptions, but that’s not a serious concern. Send the one-in-a-million scenario to a judge and get on with the other 999,999.

Are there situations in life that are complex, and that require careful use of these basic statements? Of course, plenty of them. But that’s no reason to toss them out. And that is certainly no reason to say “we can’t know right from wrong,” or “you only see that as right or wrong because of your culture.” Integrity and self-reference are universal, and they are all that you need. Act with integrity and I guarantee that you’ll do the right thing 99.999% of the time. Do you think any other system of ethics will touch that percentage?

Integrity is a simple concept that can be understood by any functional adult. This means that moral clarity is not only possible, but universally accessible.

GREAT GENERATIONS

Talk of “great generations” has been fashionable in recent years, and provides an interesting study in this case; but let’s start with the big one – The Founding Fathers. 

If you look at this remarkable group with these concepts in mind, you’ll catch one fact: They were not intrinsically better than we are, but they did have a moral clarity, and that is what enabled them to act with courage. That is why John Adams said that the Revolution really started in the churches. It was moral clarity that was what drew the courage out of them. It was the thing that focused their talents.

In the 18th Century, most Americans got their moral teaching from the Bible and from their ministers. If you look up the sermons of 1750 through 1780, you will find a deep searching regarding the morality of breaking away from England. (Start with one by Jonathan Mayhew, entitled, A Discourse Concerning Unlimited Submission and Non-Resistance to the Higher Powers. This is the one that Adams called “the spark that ignited the American Revolution.”)  The founding generation didn’t break from England until they were convinced it was the right thing to do. 

If we keep with convention and examine the WW2 generation, we find the same mechanism. Japan had violently attacked them. Germany was seizing lands and peoples at a shocking rate. Mussolini was a prototype thug. The lines were clear.

Grandpa didn’t have to wonder whether or not he was on the right side.

If you want to know where exemplary acts come from, this is the primary source.

You can see this almost everywhere if you look for it. It is simply human nature. I’ve seen this in every social class, and in every place I’ve lived. The great difficulty lies in defining morality, not in rising to the occasion once good and bad are clearly seen.

FEAR OF MAKING JUDGMENTS

There was one more piece of the puzzle that occurred to me as I was reckoning with my day of epiphanies at the WTC: A lot of people have deep fears over making choices, and especially of being alone in making choices.

This is one area where my construction workers may have had an advantage. We have to make choices, and we have to make them correctly or suffer the consequences. I suppose this is true of a lot of jobs, but in construction work it is both continuous and visceral. After all, we’re making choices about steel beams, drain pipes, and heating controls. If we choose wrongly – if something fails – the results are physical, obvious, and frequently large.

During my early years in the construction business I was often afraid when making decisions. I worried about what could go wrong. I was hesitant to trust myself, my skills, and my level of experience. Being self-analytical, I wanted to know why I felt this way. As best I was able to determine, I picked up this fear in kindergarten, when I got in trouble for doing things that seemed entirely natural, harmless and fun. My teacher told me that my sense of judgment was wrong and that I had no right to use it. Moreover, she told me that making my own judgments was a punishable offense, and locked me into a small bathroom. I learned the lesson.

While what happened to me may have been a bit dramatic, I suspect that most people have had similar experiences. And at three, four, and five years old a little bit of fear and drama go a long way.

I had to re-learn the skill of trusting myself. I’m sure a good deal of it came while playing sports, but the more serious lessons came during my early years in the construction business, when I had no choice but to make big decisions.

THE REPICE FOR HEROS AND SAINTS?

The events at the World Trade Center were obviously very stark, and we certainly don’t want to rely on such awful occurrences to inform our conduct. But the lesson is clear: To a very significant degree, it is the clarity of moral choice that turns people into heroes and saints. Traditionally such choices were informed by religion, but the essential requirement is a rational, comprehensible standard of right and wrong.

I want to add one more thing: Any efforts to implement social policies to create moral clarity would be useless at best. Moral clarity springs from within, and will not be built by any external scheme. This is an individual thing, not a group thing. Either it’s in you, or it’s not. It has to be organic. It has to be real.

If you want to see good conduct, talk about integrity, self-honesty, and the courage to make individual judgments. Require this of your children. Oppose efforts to subvert the legitimacy of right/wrong choices; they are the enemy of good conduct.

I will leave you with a few lines from a David Crosby song called The Hero. They can apply to us and our generation as much as they have to any other:

     And the reason that she loved him,
     was the reason I loved him too.
     He never wondered what was right or wrong,
     he just knew,
     he just knew.