We often throw around the joke that if Oppenheimer had taken an ethics class, maybe we wouldn’t have nuclear bombs. But would those lectures have changed anything? Actually, we’d have been better off if he had spent his Sundays in a pew absorbing a sermon centered around community, humility and accountability. This isn’t just a quip; it speaks to a profound question about the effectiveness of ethics education versus the deeper influence of religious or community-based moral frameworks. If our goal is to cultivate a society with stronger moral convictions, religion or at the very least structured community engagement would offer a more effective solution than any ethics lecture.
This isn’t to say that ethics education is pointless — I’d never dismiss the value of learning to reason through moral dilemmas. I believe, and have often argued, that education is the most powerful driver of societal change. But when it comes to ethics classes, I find myself questioning whether they’re truly impactful, especially for engineers. Do they truly affect the decisions students make in the workforce, or do they just make us more aware of the compromises we’re already planning to make?
Ethics classes in universities, especially for fields like engineering, are meant to shape our moral compass, to help us evaluate the impact of our decisions. Yet, studies have shown these courses often fall short of their intended goals. One study published in Science and Engineering Ethics highlighted that while students who took Responsible Conduct of Research courses gained knowledge about ethical guidelines, their moral reasoning and decision-making skills didn’t significantly improve. They were better informed, yes, but not necessarily more ethical in practice. This begs the question: Are these courses really making a difference, or are they simply making us more aware of the harm we might cause?
Take my own circle, for instance. Some of my classmates are well aware of the ethical dilemmas tied to working for defense contractors like Boeing or Lockheed Martin. Yet, at the end of the day, they’re still drawn to these jobs — whether for prestige, paychecks or practicality. Knowledge alone doesn’t seem to bridge the gap between awareness and action.
Now, contrast this with findings from studies on religious education and community influence. In the Journal of Education and Practice, a study on individuals in Nigeria revealed that religious beliefs and community values significantly shaped career choices. Respondents in one study described how their faith guided them toward professions that aligned with their values. One participant said, “Anything we do is by the grace of God…without faith, it is impossible to choose on your own.” Similarly, research in the Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology found that religious people were more likely to pursue careers aligned with their values, often with a stronger commitment to ethical principles.
So, should we replace ethics classes with Sunday services? Of course not. This column isn’t meant to undermine the importance of education. But perhaps we’ve been looking at ethics education the wrong way. Instead of standalone classes that students check off for their degree requirements, what if we focused on creating environments that cultivate ethical living through deeper engagement with spiritual or communal life?
Imagine a pre-med student, who instead of spending hours memorizing theoretical frameworks of health policy and ethics, shadows a doctor at an Islamic health clinic like Muslim Community Health Center where the focus is providing care to underserved populations, emphasizing values like zakat (community-centered charity) and operating under an open door policy, ensuring that no patient is denied care based on their ability to pay. This kind of experience wouldn’t just teach ethical principles in theory — it would instill them into practice, sending future doctors into the world ready to challenge the inequities of our healthcare system rather than conform to them.
But the engagement doesn’t have to be religious, it can just as easily be community based. Imagine an engineering student, who instead of writing a term paper on environmental ethics and politics, is tasked with collaborating with communities affected by industrial pollution. Rather than recalling some case study from class, these future engineers would carry with them faces, voices, and stories of the people they personally helped — an experience far more likely to guide their future decisions than theoretical exercises ever could.
The data doesn’t lie — religious upbringing and community participation provide a moral scaffolding that sticks with people long after they leave the classroom. Proposing “spiritual life as the solution” might raise eyebrows. After all, spirituality is deeply personal and far from a one-size-fits-all remedy. But if religion offers a deeper, more enduring foundation for ethical behavior, shouldn’t we seriously consider it as a more effective path to cultivating moral conviction in students?
In a world where a lack of ethical reasoning can lead to disastrous consequences, we must ask: Are we doing enough to foster genuine moral integrity within students at Cornell? It’s time to rethink ethics education — not just as a class to take, but as a way of life to live. Oppenheimer might have built the bomb anyway, but perhaps with the right moral grounding, he’d have thought twice before pressing the proverbial button.
Sophia Dasser is a freshman Computer Science and Philosophy major in the College of Arts and Sciences. Her fortnightly column Debugging Ethics explores the intersection of technology, ethics, and social justice, with a focus on the overlooked and underrepresented. She can be reached at [email protected].
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