Business education remains an easy target for public skepticism. Critics frequently take aim at its steep tuition, elitist reputation, and deep ties to lucrative corporate careers. Scandals in the private sector provide an endless stream of ammunition for those arguing that business schools fail to cultivate responsible stewardship, while disillusioned students sometimes dismiss the entire enterprise as a two-year vacation.

It is hardly surprising, therefore, that a recent New York Times essay by Christopher Marquis, titled “I Teach at a Business School. It’s Time to Shut Them Down,” has generated substantial controversy and debate.

Yet, the simplicity of condemning an institution should never excuse observers from looking at the complete picture. My own vantage point is distinct: I sat in the inaugural cohort that Marquis taught at Harvard Business School, where I found him to be a dedicated educator and a thoughtful individual. Years later, I authored several business cases myself and continue to draw upon those foundational lessons while leading major organizations.

My time in business school was overwhelmingly positive. Entering the program as a medical student with virtually no corporate background, the curriculum sharpened my decision-making, introduced me to diverse perspectives, and provided a rigorous framework for evaluating the ethical duties of leadership. That lived reality stands in stark contrast to the sweeping condemnations offered by Marquis.

The Reality of Rigorous Ethics Education

One of the most transformative classes I completed at Harvard was Leadership and Corporate Accountability, instructed by Sandra Sucher. The curriculum forced students to grapple with the true impact of managerial decisions on everyday people, carving out vital space for reflection that often gets squeezed out by endless meetings, aggressive deadlines, and relentless quarterly targets.

I remember those classrooms as environments where hard questions were welcomed and where exceptional professors demanded that we take those inquiries seriously. For this reason, Marquis’s critique of how Enron was taught felt noticeably selective. He focuses heavily on favorable case studies, yet my own recollection involves dissecting negative Enron cases to confront institutional failure head-on. Those critical examinations equipped me with the instincts required to spot bad behavior and toxic incentives before taking corrective action.

An honest appraisal of business education requires acknowledging both sides. Highlighting only the celebratory cases while ignoring the cautionary ones creates a severely skewed narrative. While institutions must examine why they sometimes prematurely praise companies and executives, the presence of an admiring study does not mean students were only taught uncritical loyalty. Classroom engagement truly matters.

Cases Sparking Deeper Conversations

Marquis correctly notes that case studies can oversimplify messy, multifaceted corporate dilemmas by packaging facts into neat narratives. Teaching notes can occasionally steer discussions toward predictable, formulaic conclusions while leaving vital questions unaddressed.

However, the finest classes transcended those limitations. Professors and peers regularly challenged the foundational framing of a problem, interrogated the motives of key actors, and asked whose voices were missing from the equation. The case study simply served as a concrete launching pad for debate; the true educational value depended entirely on how we interrogated it.

As both a student and a case writer, I learned to view ambiguity as an essential pedagogical tool. Executives rarely operate with complete information, navigating instead through fog, competing pressures, and profound disagreement. A well-facilitated case study trains future leaders to recognize uncertainty, grow comfortable with it, and interrogate the apparent completeness of the data presented to them.

  • Who was interviewed for this report?
  • Whose lived experiences are completely absent?
  • What specific metrics are being prioritized?
  • How would this choice impact an ordinary employee, a loyal customer, or the broader community?

These are the exact habits of critical judgment that leaders require throughout their professional journeys.

Placing Moral Education Front and Center

None of this implies that business schools should rest on their laurels. The most constructive response to Marquis is to demand higher standards from these institutions. Moral education must become the core pillar of leadership development.

This mission demands continuous integration across every academic discipline. Finance, corporate strategy, operational management, and organizational behavior all involve trade-offs that directly impact human lives. Students must learn to evaluate those human consequences with the exact same rigor they apply to balance sheets and profit margins.

For instance, a cost-cutting initiative can optimize a firm's balance sheet while devastating the livelihoods of workers who depend on it. A legally compliant maneuver can actively undermine a company’s core mission, and rigid performance targets can incentivize the exact unethical behavior leaders publicly condemn.

In healthcare, where I have spent my professional life, the stakes are profoundly high. Decisions regarding budgets, staffing, coverage, and patient access dictate whether people receive life-saving treatments or endure unnecessary suffering.

We must train leaders to act as accountants of human impact alongside financial accounting—tracking whose care is delayed, whose workload becomes unmanageable, and whose hardships vanish from corporate reports. True ethical education ensures leaders feel accountable for these ripple effects, even when financial metrics look stellar.

Students need ample practice identifying these tensions, explaining their choices, and owning the outcomes. Furthermore, they must learn how easily personal responsibility can be deflected. In my upcoming book, The Moral Alibi, I explore how leaders utilize organizational structures, market pressures, and institutional constraints to justify decisions they retain the power to alter.

Market demands, board expectations, permissive policies, and industry norms are frequently invoked to avoid treating a dilemma as a fundamental moral choice. At its core, the modern leadership crisis is a crisis of courage. Executives often spot wrongdoing long before they possess the willingness to confront it. Business education must prepare professionals to stand by their values even when doing so carries steep personal and career costs.

Infusing Real-World Experience Into Academia

Achieving this level of preparation requires a stronger presence of seasoned operational leaders within academic halls. While I deeply valued Marquis as an instructor, his professional experience outside of academia was relatively limited. A healthier equilibrium is needed between career academics who study organizations and veterans who have actually carried the heavy burden of leadership.

Practical experience does not automatically guarantee moral clarity, as successful executives are often adept at rationalizing their own missteps. Business schools should actively recruit practitioners who are courageous enough to dissect their failures, admit their compromises, and openly discuss what they would change if given a second chance.

These voices can demystify the immense pressures that complicate straightforward ethical decisions—such as a respected colleague defending a questionable practice, a financial target that appears impossible to hit otherwise, or the lingering fear that speaking up will derail a career. Scholars and practitioners should tackle these realities side by side, equipping students with both analytical frameworks and moral fortitude.

My disagreement with Marquis stems largely from professional gratitude. I benefited immensely from educators who took their craft seriously, including Sandra Sucher and Marquis himself. Their instruction helped shape my approach to complex leadership dilemmas.

That foundational experience makes me far more demanding of business schools today, yet it also makes me fiercely protective against calls for their abolition. These institutions deserve rigorous oversight, but so do the sweeping claims made against them. We can acknowledge systemic shortcomings without erasing the educators and courses that continue to shape principled leaders.