The spectacle of irresponsibility acted out by persons in high office—immune from being held accountable—makes it difficult to explain why either responsibility or accountability is a virtue essential to life together in community. If they are important, then we need a good grasp of what they mean. Responsible for what? Accountable to whom? What are the measures of good and not good?
In the 1960s, Robert Blake and Jane Mouton developed a way to talk about responsibility known as the Leadership Grid. Intended as a leadership model, it works well to describe responsibility in a variety of settings. One axis, scaled from 1 to 9, is devoted to concern for production—whatever “production” might be. The other axis, also scaled from 1 to 9, is devoted to concern for people. A leader’s single-minded determination to get the job done, no matter what, will use people as mere tools to be pushed to their limits and discarded when they fail. On the other hand, single-minded commitment to keeping conflict at a minimum and assuring that everybody gets along leads to unmotivated, directionless floundering. Each represents an extreme way of understanding the meaning of responsibility.
Some have little regard for productivity or the well-being of others. They keep their heads down and try to do just enough to avoid being noticed. Others work out something of a midpoint—concerned about achieving a reasonable level of production while keeping people from being unhappy or dissatisfied. Play it safe, don’t push too hard. Finally, there are rare people who appear to be at number 9 on each axis. They are equally intent on achieving maximum production and maximum good for the people on whom production relies. They exist, but not in great numbers, and sometimes only for a moment.
The grid provides a useful model for understanding how responsibility can be described, but its fuller meaning depends on context. It could be used to explain responsibility in a criminal enterprise as well as in a faithful church parish. For what is one responsible? The cure of souls or the robbing of a bank? It’s all the same to the Leadership Grid. This is where the question of responsibility gets tricky.
The most common practice is to evaluate words and deeds by their consequences. Families, friends, neighbors, communities, states, and countries set standards for acceptable behavior. Sometimes they take the form of unwritten social norms, and other times they are written into law. There tend to be rewards for actions that conform and contribute to the stability of relationships. Actions that transgress the standards are liable to punishment. It explains much of what we mean when we talk about the consequences of our actions. It’s a workable approach, but it tends to favor conforming mediocrity—unconcerned with those living at the margins and suspicious of those pushing in new directions. It is susceptible to manipulation by those who promise to stop unwanted changes, return to a better past, and prevent deviation from standards.
Evaluating the consequences of words and deeds is essential, but not sufficient. Potential consequences can be weighed in light of self-centered desires, for the good of others at some risk to oneself, or even for a greater good for the whole. The Declaration of Independence is one example: men pledging their sacred honor to gain freedom for an entire nation. The consequences they faced were unacceptable to others who preferred to remain silent and protect their own interests.
There is another way. It begins when leaders add a dimension that makes what is just, good, and right not only for themselves or even for the greatest number, but for the whole. It does not diminish the value of the greatest good for the greatest number but requires that the needs and aspirations of minorities and the marginalized be fully included without prejudice. What is needed for the well-being of all peoples—and of creation itself—cannot be sacrificed to the greater prosperity of some. It does not mean everyone should be equally prosperous, but that no one should be deprived of opportunity. It also means that creation must be respected and stewarded for the benefit of future generations.
For Christians, that means applying a deep understanding of Christ’s commandments to love as the principal measure of what is just, right, and good. These commandments must be factored into every decision about concern for production or people. They must be applied to every test of social norms and legal standards.
Christian responsibility begins with the way of the cross. It means being responsible for living into God’s commandments to love others and to care for creation—by taking the wisdom of the prophets to heart and following, as best we can, in the way of Jesus Christ. All other forms of responsibility are subordinate to these. We live in a world that, for the most part, operates with a different understanding of responsibility—one sometimes in conflict with the way of the cross. We are to do the best we can, given the demands of daily life.
Each of us, regardless of our faith or lack of it, is accountable to someone for how we have handled our responsibilities. Some claim to be accountable only to themselves. That is a case of egotistical hubris—accountable to a fool. Most of us recognize our accountability to different authorities in different contexts. Parents, teachers, bosses, spouses, friends, the law—each becomes a source of accountability that measures, in some way, our performance. Christians are accountable first and ultimately to Jesus Christ. Every other authority is subordinate. Nevertheless, others are important and have merit. Provided they exercise their authority in ways that do not contradict God’s way of love, they are to be respected. It is possible to evade accountability to the law and society, at least for a while. But it is not possible to evade accountability to God—nor is it possible to evade accountability to future generations for what we will have bequeathed to them.