I have a pet theory that a necessary condition for being an academic philosopher is also being a profound failure. Philosophers of science and metaphysicians are failed scientists. Epistemologists are failed psychologists and lawyers. Philosophers of language are failed linguistics. Aestheticians are failed painters/musicians/filmmakers/etc. Philosophers of math and logicians are failed mathematicians. Philosophers of logic are failed reasoners. And ethicists are failed human beings.
This raises an important question. Does the study of ethics make one a worse human being?
By some conceptions of ethics this is clearly false. Anyone would do better to learn from the kind of metaphysically informed self-help books produced by Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius, as well as from anything that David Hume had to say (about ethics or anything else). This tradition of metaphysically informed self-help is still alive in the writings of many prominent Buddhist thinkers today (e.g. Thich Naht Hahn).
The kind of ethics that submits itself to "publish or perish" is a very different beast though. By this conception an ethical theory is sort of a machine that spits out our moral obligations and permissibilities. Then we can test these theories by seeing if they accord with our considered moral intuitions and by the extent to which they uphold the kind of theoretical virtues important for science and engineering (though most philosophers have an extraordinarily simplistic view of these virtues). So for example, you can respond to the fact that Kant's deontological ethics entails that one should tell the truth to Nazis by biting the bullet (going against the intuition), by rejecting the deontological approach, or by trying to change Kant's theory a little bit so that it gets the intuition correct. Likewise with Mill's Utilitarian view entailing that in some circumstances it is correct to execute innocent people.
Typical intro classes in ethics are rooted in these two theories (and usually social contract theory as well, and maybe some virtue theory and meta-ethical concerns and moral epistemology thrown in if there is time).
I think that this way of teaching ethics is usually pretty bad. The first problem is that the possible situations that are put forward to counterexemplify the theories are so preposterous. For example, if a train is headed towards ten people and you could switch the track so that it just kills one person should you do it? WTF? Unfortunately, given our epistemic limitations, this kind of preposterousness productively leads to the justification of great evil. It is at the center of people who currently defend state sanctioned torture (and if you think "stress positions" combined with sleep deprivation through constant ear splitting music and blinding light is not torture, then you need to be subject to it for a week or so). What if there is a "ticking bomb" situation where lives can be saved only if the information is gotten within a short time frame, and only by torturing somebody to get the information? Would it not be justified in that case?
Well what if someone put a miniature bomb in a baby such that the only way to defuse the bomb was to eviscerate the baby? Israeli studies on "ticking bomb" justifications for torture (their supreme court ruled abuse of detainees, even in such circumstances, to be illegal) showed that the baby scenario is about as likely. But it could happen. Shouldn't we then give Bush et. al. legal permission to eviscerate babies on the suspicion that there might be a bomb inside of them?
The point is, these outlandish possible worlds systematically allow people to justify courses of action that should not be justified. We can't know if we really are in a ticking bomb scenario (and there is no evidence that there ever has been such a case, even in countries like Israel subject to a tremendous amount of terrorism), so once you use that rational you start torturing every time you think you might be in such a case. Given the nature of administrative evil, the slippery slope gets slid down.
In addition, the incessant focus on extreme kinds of badness (i.e. the Nazis) makes us less self aware about all of the ways we could be better people. But then the systematic study of ethics is making you less self-aware and a worse person.
The second way these ethics classes are destructive is much more widespread among students.To understand this we need to take note of how "practical ethics" (as a colleague of mine once wrote, an oxymoron) classes get taught. In these classes you spend less time on the ethical theories and more time on applying them to controversial political issues like abortion and the death penalty. You typically present very good prima facie arguments pro and con each position and present very good refutations of everyone's arguments.
I think students get out of such classes with their puerile skepticism and relativism increased. They reason that if such smart people of good will can't agree about anything, there must not be a fact of the matter.
This is the all too predictable result of focusing on the very few very complicated issues that informed people of good will can disagree about. But the whole "ethics is a theory that can be tested" paradigm forces that to be the case.
Third, wisdom counsels that it is very dangerous to set yourself up as the moral arbiter of the universe. Pride goes before a fall and a haughty spirit before a destruction. But isn't it then a little bit sick to present ethicists as the masters of the moral theory that can determine for any arbitrary action whether it is obligatory or permissible? Thus even people who don't come out further entrenched in puerile relativism can come out of the study of ethics even less self critical and aware, because they have abrogated for themselves the role of God's judges. My personal experience is that (with some notable exceptions, usually involving Stoics of Buddhists) people who study ethics a long time learn not to lose sleep about any of their professional decisions. This is really bad because so many professional decisions are made under such conditions of heuristic uncertainty. For example, you can't really know 100% that you are hiring the best person or that your view on the essay you are reviewing is optimal. This should lead to humility and an attempt to increase shared humanity and compassion as much as possible. But the study of ethics can rend the soul such that just the opposite occurs. I guess that being an ethicist means never having to say you are sorry. No thanks.
Fourth, and finally, ethics makes it much easier to rationalize any possible action. You just pick a moral theory whose weird counterfactual results can be made to seem similar to whatever you are contemplating doing. Again, I've seen professional ethicists do this with aplomb when it comes to professional scenarios. It makes me really worry about what our business students are getting out of their "professional ethics" classes.
One further topic needs to be addressed. While the aesthetician is almost always a failed artist prior to becoming an aesthetician, we need to ask if the ethicist is a failed human being prior to becoming an ethicist, or if the study of ethics ruins them as a human being. Surely a judgmental prick who wants to justify all of his own crappy ways of treating people would be exactly the kind of person drawn to the kind of ethics predominant in philosophy departments in the first place. But I think there is still some causation in the other direction, which we can examine by examining what our students (many whom take the classes because they are required) get out of these courses.
As a footnote, one might object that all the above concerns "analytical ethics." Well and good, but when a pedant like Leonard Lawlor gets a full professorship at Penn State, I don't think "continental ethics" is any better. Of course this is to ignore all the great work coming out of the Nietzsche/Marx/Foucault materialist tradition (as opposed to the Derridean and Levinasian rehashed Sartrean neo-Kantianism expressed so badly by writers such as Lawlor) by American continental thinkers. And to be fair, with my focus on the "reflective equilibrium" brand of analytical ethics I'm leaving out incredibly important developments as well (virtue theorists, anti-theorists, and people working in moral psychology in particular).
As a final footnote, I'm not trying to put Kant or Mill down here. My own view is that Kant expressed as well as possible many of the moral obligations we have that arise out of sapience and Mill expressed as well as possible many the moral obligations we have that arise out of sentience and the social contract theorists express as well as possible many of the moral obligations that arise out of the fact that we are sapient social creatures. I am a moral dialetheist, so I think when these contradict you just often just have systematic tragic choice scenarios. This way does not lead to skepticism or relativism because the judgments they agree on are objectively true. -All this being said, some caveats- (1) There is a lot more to the world than sentience, sapience, and community, so these ethical theories are limited, and not particularly helpful for the more important quest of being a better person (I'd read Hume or the Greek or Roman Stoics any day before Kant or Mill in these regards), (2) I don't think Moral Obligations are linguaform entities, and any linguistic theory such as normative ethics is going to be misleading in important ways because of that (this is a long story), and (3) even if everyone were to embrace my moral dialetheism (and non-reaction to the one paper I've managed to get published where I suggest this (in the Priest anthology) shows that this is not going to happen), I still worry that the idea that there could be "ethicists," good at judgments in general but expert in nothing in particular, is morally damaging the ways listed above. It is of a piece with the post World War II culture of "management" that is so damaging to our country. I hope (and hopefully with John Protevi) to write a book about this phenomena of experts with no expertise one day. I'll post on that and the history of cognitive science in my next philosophy post, because I'm interested in what anyone thinks.