Reader Paul Davis writes: “You’re right, it is all about the money. I used to be a die-hard conservative, but people like you and those making the ‘morally neutral’ decision have pushed me to the left, hard left … Since it is all about the money … raise taxes on offshoring firms by 50%.”

Many readers mistook my description of the strategic logic behind offshoring for a public policy prescription.

For the record: I don’t like the trend toward offshoring any more than most IT professionals. I see few alternatives, though, for companies that compete on price, given the potential cost reduction that offshoring provides. (The good news about the bad news: For the time being, at least, offshoring isn’t a complete solution to IT service delivery. Thus far it’s best-suited to legacy systems maintenance.)

Mr. Davis’ “hard turn to the left” is, I think, less a change in political orientation than a recognition that good public policy isn’t a matter of the government always doing whatever big companies want it to do. Especially in an age when large corporations are global concerns, governments … which aren’t … have an obligation to protect the best interests of their electorates from those corporations which, by definition, have no motivation to look after the interests of the citizens of any country.

Should the U.S. tax the income of offshore IT services providers? Just taxing them, or imposing a tax penalty on companies that engage them, is simple protectionism. I think we’ve found that protectionism doesn’t work — in the long run its net impact is to reduce the incentive for U.S. providers to be globally competitive.

Here’s what might work: Charge a trade tariff on offshore services pegged to the import tariffs their governments charge on our exports. Companies located in nations that create no barriers to selling U.S. goods and services within their borders would find no barriers to their selling labor in ours. Countries that make it artificially expensive for their citizens to buy our products would find their offshoring companies suddenly uncompetitive in the U.S. marketplace.

It’s good economics. It’s also a win for the citizens of both countries. Increasing exports of our goods and services creates employment here; increased employment of citizens in less-wealthy nations increases their wealth, thereby increasing the size of the market able to buy our goods and services.

This isn’t a particularly subtle, brilliant, or original idea. In fact, it’s pretty obvious. Which brings up the question of why nobody has proposed it yet.

Sadly, the answer to that question is almost as obvious as the idea itself. But what the heck — if you like it, write your senators and congressional representatives, even if doing so is like giving chicken soup to a corpse.

You might argue that doing so won’t revive the dead. They are, after all, demised. No matter how efficacious chicken soup might be for a wide variety of ills (which brings up the question of why we don’t find chicken soup in stores purveying less-tried-and-true herbal remedies … but that’s another subject for another time) … no matter how many diseases chicken soup cures, death isn’t one of them. Why waste your time feeding it to a corpse?

Why write the Senate and Congress?

It can’t hurt.

Premise 1:Businesses aren’t moral agents.

This isn’t up for debate. The Business Roundtable, the official voice of American industry, made this clear in 1997: Businesses exist solely to maximize shareholder value. Fiduciary responsibilities? Yes. Legal obligations? Sure. But moral? Since most business success comes at the expense of competitors, they can’t be.

Premise 2: Businesses have no patriotic duty. Don’t be aghast. It’s all about shareholder value, remember? If moving manufacturing to Kuala Lumpur helps, fine and dandy. If opening a post office box in Bermuda to avoid paying taxes increases profits, wonderful. A business isn’t beholden to any particular nation. (Best exposition on this subject: Arthur Jensen’s speech to Howard Beale in Network. Rent it and you’ll find that Paddy Chayefski brilliant satire has been transformed into the business community’s manifesto.)

Premise 3: Patriotism and morality have no connection. Unless you think Americans are intrinsically more deserving than other people, or that any action, if performed by the United States of America, is automatically good, it’s inescapable that patriotism has all the moral content of being a Chicago Cubs fan. At best, patriotism is about self-interest — not a bad thing, but not a moral issue.

We’re ready: Is moving work offshore immoral? No.

You’re acting as the agent of your employer, an amoral (not immoral) entity. You’re increasing shareholder value, a goal with no intrinsic moral content. And for every human being you lay off, another gets a job. Offshoring is morally neutral.

You are, perhaps, being unpatriotic: Creating unemployment here by transferring jobs elsewhere isn’t to this country’s benefit. Even that formula is simplistic, though: If competitors reduce their costs by going offshore and you don’t, all you’re doing is contributing to your company’s failure — in the long run you save no jobs at all. What choice do you really have?

Your choice starts with your methodologies. Some lend themselves to offshoring. Others, such as “adaptive methodologies,” are better suited to up-close-and-personal on-shore staffing … and hold the promise of increasing the productivity of your developers and integrators enough to compensate for offshore rates.

Adaptive methodologies don’t fit all situations. Neither, for that matter, do the methodologies required for successful offshoring, nor anything else for that matter. Adaptive methodologies, offshoring, the Rational Unified Process, structured analysis, and all the other techniques available to you are just tools in your toolkit. Your responsibility isn’t to offshore, onshore, or anything else.

It’s to use the best tool for each job.