I recently enjoyed the privilege of hearing Nigel Barley, an anthropologist with the British Museum, give a wide-ranging talk about the importance of non-communication.

Yes, that’s right. With all the emphasis on swifter communication, better communication, error-free communication, and the rest of it, Barley spoke about how good communication can mess up a perfectly good situation.

For example, the British East India Company embodied the British Empire for centuries. According to Barley, the home office finally collected and tabulated the accounts from all of its far-flung field operations (sound familiar?) in the mid-1800s. Like Wiley Coyote running off a cliff but not falling until he looks down, the directors discovered their company had been bankrupt for more than 200 years.

My own recent communications with InfoWorld’s readers — four columns on how to motivate employees — led some correspondents to conclude that I’m morally bankrupt.

Readers expressed concern in three areas: 1) using fear, greed, and other “negative” emotions is unethical — managers should appeal to employees’ better natures; 2) when managers analytically decide how to motivate employees they’re being manipulative, which is also unethical; and 3) I’m endorsing situational ethics, and that encourages unethical behavior, too.

A profound discovery of modern management theory is that managerial ethics matter to employees, and they matter a lot. This has been a major revelation to a generation of business leaders who previously figured morality belonged in the home and that including ethics in business decisions was somehow immature and idealistic. (Yes, I know there’s a difference between ethics and morals; it’s subtle enough to ignore in this discussion.)

Ethics matter. They matter from the perspective of self-respect, they matter from the perspective of employees trusting you enough to follow your lead, and they matter from the perspective of business success, because in today’s competitive labor market success depends on the talent you can attract and retain. The best talent will abandon you without regret if you reveal yourself to be an immoral weasel.

Ethics isn’t, however, reducible to a simple formula. If it were, philosophers would have long ago tired of the subject. It is, instead, both complex and highly personal. So here’s my personal perspective on the issues you’ve raised.

Last point first: I do believe ethics are situational. So does our legal system, which, for example, accepts self-defense as justification for killing someone. Opinion: How you motivate an employee (instilling fear of unemployment) has less impact on the ethics of an action than does your intent (wanting to save his job).

Issue No. 2: Manipulation? My own opinion is that honesty and intent differentiate motivating employees from manipulating them.

Look at it this way: You’re responsible for successfully achieving the mission of your organization. You can’t succeed in this with unmotivated employees. As a manager, you have an impact on employee motivation. You have to decide whether you’re going to do it consciously, through analysis and planning, or whether you’re going to rely on your instincts being good enough to do the job.

Issue #1: Appealing to negative emotions … what’s a negative emotion? Fear? Anger? Both are important to your survival.

Instilling fear is, in my mind, completely ethical if the employee legitimately has something to be afraid of, such as becoming unemployed due to poor performance. Failing to instill fear when there’s something to be afraid of — failing to create a gut-level understanding of the consequences — is as unethical from where I sit as letting a drunk friend drive.

Bullying employees — an act of self-indulgence, not motivation — is entirely different, and always a bad idea.

Humans aren’t Vulcans. Emotions drive human behavior. That’s reality. When managers and executives make decisions based on wishful thinking instead of reality, they make the right choices by accident when they make them at all.

When I first heard about the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, I wondered why everyone was so worried about Heisenberg’s uncertainty. I knew lots of people who weren’t certain about any number of things.

I’m more sophisticated now, although not so much so that I’ve actually learned the mathematics. I’ve learned, for example, the basic idea behind the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle — that the act of observing any phenomenon affects the observed phenomenon.

Here’s one useful application of this little Nobel-prize-winning insight. The next time you read a market analysis or prediction from one of the big market research organizations … Gartner, Meta, Forrester, IDC … consider this Heisenbergish notion: When these groups observe, analyze, and report on the technology marketplace and you act on their observations, you and they together distort the marketplace.

I’d love to tell you that I have a terrific solution to this dilemma. I don’t. Since Albert Einstein failed to find a loophole in the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle; I’m not all that depressed that I haven’t found one either. It’s a fundamental property of the universe.

Speaking of the Gartner Group, I received quite a bit of feedback on my recent critique of its highly publicized total cost of ownership (TCO) model for personal computers. Several readers suggested a way to measure the value of the PC — “simply” figure out everything you’d have to spend to keep the work going if you got rid of them.

You’d certainly get a huge number, even if you didn’t include the cards your employees would need to continue playing solitaire. I’m afraid the number wouldn’t mean much more than the TCO itself, though. PCs have transformed the workplace in fundamental ways, defining new kinds of work that were previously impossible, invalidating other activities and skills that used to be of vital importance, and changing how communication flows, not just within the company but throughout the marketplace.

Since not all of the changes are for the better, calculating the cost of undoing them wouldn’t measure value. It would measure the cost of making time flow backward.

Good try, though.

I got lots of requests for the “Total Cost of a Day Planner” calculation from my debate with the Gartner Group at its 1993 Annual Symposium, so here’s the five-year calculation, based on Gartner’s standard $40 per hour fully loaded cost of an employee and 48 productive weeks per year:

Figure the day planner costs about $150. The time management course itself probably costs the company another $150. And it costs a day of employee time, so at $40/hour times 8 hours that’s $320. And every year you buy refills for about $50 — $200 over five years.

Add up the 15 minutes every morning you’re supposed to spend planning your day and you get $12,000 over five years. During the day you may spend 10 minutes putting things on your to-do list and scratching them off. Over five years that totals up to another $8,000. In the evening before you go home you’re supposed to spend another five minutes recapping the day — over five years, another $4,000.

Then there’s the time you spend fiddling with refills, because every so often you have to take stuff out of the book and put new stuff in. That adds another $600.

Add it all up and the TCO for day planners is pretty shocking: $25,420 over five years.

Okay, I’ve done my part. I’ve done my best to debunk the whole silly TCO idea. Now it’s your turn. If I’ve convinced you and you subscribe to Gartner or any other organization that calculates TCO, it’s time to let them know you don’t want to spend another nickel on it. Overhead costs? Yes. Cost per hour of use? Yes.

TCO? As Nancy Reagan used to say, “Just say no.”