When I first began this course, I didn’t expect it to impact the way I think about responsibility, leadership, and ethics so directly. Coming from a background in the military and cybersecurity, I used to view ethics primarily as rule-following—what’s allowed, what’s not, and what keeps systems operating smoothly. But this class helped me understand that ethics is about far more than compliance or technical standards. It’s about relationships, trust, and what it means to live and act with integrity, even in complicated systems. Three topics in particular stood out to me and reshaped how I think: whistleblowing, information warfare, and Confucian role ethics.

              Before this course, I saw whistleblowers as both courageous and reckless, with respect in the boldness it took to speak up, but I also believed loyalty meant keeping internal matters within the organization, especially in the military. Our readings on Chelsea Manning, particularly through the lens of contractarianism and rational loyalty, challenged that perspective. I have came to get that loyalty isn’t unquestioning rather its reasoned. Manning’s actions weren’t just a violation of protocol; they were rooted in a deeper loyalty to the values of transparency, justice, and democratic accountability. The concept of rational loyalty introduced by Vandekerckhove and Commers, changed how I looked dissent. It allowed me see that loyalty to an institution doesn’t mean protecting its reputation at all costs. It calls for holding it accountable to its stated mission and values. This made me reflect on moments in my own professional life where I felt uneasy with certain things but chose silence because I thought that was the loyal thing to do. Now I realize that sometimes, the most faithful thing we can do is speak up when something goes against the core values we claim to uphold. If institutions demand loyalty, they must also accept responsibility when they fall short. My takeaway is that loyalty should be earned and directed toward values, not just structures. If I see wrongdoing when people are being harmed I have a moral obligation to speak up, even if it’s uncomfortable.

              Another topic that shifted my thinking was the idea of information warfare and Facebook’s role in the 2016 U.S. presidential election. Before this course, I thought of Facebook as a tool maybe careless or profit-driven, but not intentionally unethical. In Alexis Madrigal’s article and analyzing it through the Ethics of Care and Jarred Prier’s concept of “weaponized social media” revealed how platforms like Facebook are deeply involved in shaping social realities. I had not fully realized how algorithms, data targeting, and engagement-driven design could be manipulated to influence public thought, create division, and even sway elections. Facebook’s lust for engagement over truth allowed foreign actors to take advantage of emotional vulnerabilities and take away from democratic participation. What struck me most was how Ethics of Care reframed the issue not as a question of legality or even fairness, but as a question of relational responsibility.

              Facebook didn’t just fail to stop disinformation; it was unable to care for its users. It neglected its role in fostering civic trust and instead created an environment where manipulation thrived. This hit home for me as someone who wants to work in cybersecurity. Ethics in tech isn’t just about protecting systems it’s about protecting people. I now see that we must think beyond profit and performance metrics. We must design systems that care for users, that promote healthy engagement, and that resist being turned into tools of division or manipulation. My takeaway here is that technology is never neutral. As a future cybersecurity professional, I must design and defend systems with empathy and responsibility, not just technical skill.

              The final topic that enriched my understanding of ethics was Confucian role ethics. This framework was new to me, and it challenged some of the individualistic assumptions I didn’t even know I held. Confucianism teaches that morality comes not from isolated decisions but from how we live in our roles as students, leaders, coworkers, family members, and citizens. It stresses that a ethical lifestyle is about properly filling these roles and maintaining harmony through respect, care, and self-reflection. I applied this framework to the cyberwarfare case between Israel and Iran. Both nations, by targeting civilian infrastructure and escalating digital hostilities, failed in their moral roles as protectors of peace and wellbeing. That insight hit me. I thought about the roles I’ve inhabited as a lead petty officer in the Navy, as a student, and as a future leader in tech. Confucianism made me ask whether I’ve always fulfilled those roles in a way that promotes trust and harmony. It’s easy to get caught up in metrics, goals, or authority. But this perspective reminded me that leadership isn’t just about making decisions it’s about how those decisions affect the people around me, and whether I’m creating an environment where others can thrive. The idea that fulfilling your role means helping others fulfill theirs is something I’ll carry with me. My takeaway is that my character is shaped by how I treat others in the roles I inhabit—whether as a leader, a student, or a citizen. Ethics starts with how I show up every day.

              Altogether, these topics didn’t just teach me philosophical terms or theories. They helped me see myself more clearly. They challenged me to think about how I act, who I serve, and how I define integrity in complex systems. I’ve learned that doing the right thing isn’t always about following the rules; sometimes it’s about questioning them. I’ve learned that platforms and institutions carry moral weight  and so do I, when I help build or maintain them. And I’ve learned that ethics isn’t just something you study. It’s something you live. In the future, I want to be guided by care, responsibility, and moral clarity in all the roles I hold.