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Scholar, Global Thinker, and Hypocrite

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By Mathew H. Gendle

Like many liberal-arts institutions, the university where I teach places a heavy emphasis on the freshman year, and all new students are required to take a class called "The Global Experience," taught by faculty members drawn from departments across the campus. One of the central objectives of the course is to break students out of their bubble by forcing them to think about the interconnectedness of our world.

In my class, we spend considerable time talking about the negative aspects of globalization: depressed wages, slave/child labor, the exploitation of the poor, and homogenization of cultures. I emphasize the underbelly of modern economies not to condemn them in a "holier than thou" manner, but with the intention of getting students to understand (in some small way) that their everyday consumer choices can have far-reaching social and economic effects around the globe.

I make a point of discussing how we are all implicated in some of those adverse outcomes, and suggest that the only way to prevent them is to work together for change. Despite my best efforts, I find myself feeling like a complete fraud with such idealistic talk. Indeed, I have pointed out to previous classes that on the very same day that we are discussing such issues, I am also wearing clothes that were probably manufactured with child labor and have consumed chocolate that was, in all likelihood, produced by slaves.

But I had no idea just how much of a hypocrite I was until I started to pay attention to my retirement account.

As a fairly young professor, I had given little thought to retirement. But I decided, in light of the recent talk of the demise of Social Security, to take a more active role in shaping my financial future. I knew it would be foolish to count on Social Security, and because my private employer doesn't have as generous a pension plan as those provided by some state universities, I realized that an extensive assessment of my financial options for retirement was in order.

Unfortunately, that investigation has led me to conclude that I am, in fact, an enormous hypocrite.

As is the case with most private institutions, my university's retirement plan is administered through a large financial-services corporation, and my contributions are invested in a group of speculative equities funds of my choosing.

Like many academics in their early 30s, I am not looking to become wealthy. But I do wish to ensure that I have sufficient capital to live independently in my retirement and avoid being a financial drain on my children. So, I have chosen to place my assets in a group of aggressive global funds that have historically produced respectable returns. I recently received the annual report of those funds in the mail, and although I had never seriously considered looking through such a document before, I was feeling empowered by my new take-charge attitude toward retirement planning. I dove right in.

I knew that such funds were often blind to the corporate citizenship of the companies they invest in. But, as ignorant as this sounds, I was quite unhappy to discover that the equities funds in which I have invested own millions of shares of General Electric, Unocal/Chevron, Altria Group, Halliburton, Nestlé, and other corporations whose behaviors I have used in class as specific examples of poor global corporate citizenship.

How can I charge my students to make changes for the better when I am part of the problem? At this point, I'm sure some readers will answer with a single word: Divest!

It is true that my retirement money can be completely transferred into a socially responsible investment fund. But the problems with that solution are twofold. First, "social responsibility" is a nebulous term, and there is no guarantee that my definition will match up with what the fund administrators consider to be "responsible."

Second, and perhaps more important, such socially responsible funds typically fail to produce the same high yield that I currently enjoy from my aggressive international allocations. Maintaining my current investment allocation is thus the best way to move toward my goal of a secure retirement.

Doing so, of course, flies in the face of everything that I tell my students. By keeping my accounts as they are, I am essentially saying that my family's distant future is more valuable than the present conditions of thousands of others around the globe. I consider myself a compassionate person, yet I am clearly engaging in callous and selfish actions, recognizing them as such, and steadfastly refusing to change my behavior.

You might say, "Well, that's capitalism," but that response seems hollow and unsatisfactory. Unfortunately, the simple reality is that as long as you are operating within a capitalist market, there will always be winners and losers, and I am essentially trying to position myself to be one of the winners.

The same could be said of my clothing purchases. Sure, theoretically I could buy only clothing that was union-made, or the product of workers earning a living wage. But the reality is that such articles are pricey and surprisingly hard to find. With a mortgage and child-care expenses, I find myself gravitating toward the inexpensive and mass-produced clothing offered by large corporate retailers.

With those choices, I am again essentially saying that the welfare of my family is more important than the welfare of others, which is truly the last sentiment that I want my students to identify with.

I find myself confounded and in one of the most uncomfortable positions I have been in as a college professor.

When I teach "The Global Experience" this coming fall, it is my intention to share the nasty details of my investments with my students. But will that really matter? Can I honestly expect my students to change their consumer behaviors when I refuse to change my own?

If nothing else, I hope that my candid discussion will get students to think about how global economies affect people around the world in very profound ways. But, does the recognition of a problem carry any meaning if it is not backed up with real change? I have some time yet before the fall semester starts, and I hope I can figure out some answers before then.