THE OREGONIAN
Living News
For whistle-blowers, it's a matter of truth over consequences
06/23/02
PATRICK O'NEILL THE OREGONIAN
You've heard about Coleen Rowley, the chief counsel for the FBI office in Minneapolis, who catapulted to fame when she turned the spotlight on her agency's bungled antiterrorist efforts.
And you've heard about Sherron Watkins, the Enron vice president who sent a memo to her boss warning that the company could implode under the pressure of accounting scandals.
And you might have asked yourself whether you'd have the courage to put the truth as you see it before your own job security.
Whistle-blower or careerist? Which are you?
If you decide to follow your ethical star, be prepared for a stomach-churning ride. Whistle-blowers and those who support them say honesty has an emotional price, despite laws that protect those who speak the truth.
And if you decide to follow your ethical star, what's the best way to do it?
Draw on the experience of Tina Dierkes, who, as a kindergarten teacher at Wilsonville Primary School, called down the wrath of the federal Environmental Protection Agency on the West Linn-Wilsonville School District in 1999.
When Dierkes, now 53, heard about cancer-causing chemicals dripping from a light fixture at the school, she just couldn't keep quiet.
"For me there was really no choice," she said. "Most whistle-blowers really value the truth. I believe that integrity and honesty are the only things there are. I don't like the politics, the games school districts play. My job is to protect the children. How could I look into the eyes of those little 5-year-old babies and let this go on?"
The EPA eventually approved a $323,000 fine against the district, says school Superintendent Roger Woehl. The district negotiated a deal that allowed it to develop an environmental education center in lieu of paying a fine. Compared with other whistle-blowers, Dierkes was lucky. L1 She wasn't fired. There's some debate about whether the school district retaliated against her. She says her whistle-blowing led to a poor performance evaluation and criticism of her communication style. Woehl says there was no retaliation. And an administrative law judge ruled last year that there's no evidence that the district tried to get back at her. Dierkes transferred to another school in the district and has appealed the judge's ruling.
But no matter how the case is resolved, Dierkes says one thing is clear: The stress of worry has taken a toll on her personal life.
"I would be sick to my stomach every morning thinking about going to that school," she says. "Even now I get nauseated whenever I drive by."
Whistle-blowers shouldn't take their decision lightly.
"It's a life-changing decision," she says. "You really need to think long and hard about it."
For Dierkes, the decision to go to the EPA was "a defining moment."
"There comes a point in your life when you have to speak up for what you believe is true and correct regardless of the consequences," she says.
Dierkes, who was raised in a strict Greek Orthodox family, says a strong religious faith gave her the courage to speak out about the contamination. She describes herself as one who sees moral issues in terms of black and white. Her father, who operated a grocery store in Joliet, Ill., "always talked to me about honesty and the golden rule."
Bill Dunbar, spokesman for EPA's regional headquarters in Seattle, praises Dierkes and other whistle-blowers for their courage.
If it hadn't been for Dierkes, Dunbar said, the EPA might never have found out about the hazards at Wilsonville Primary.
"We get a lot of tips from whistle-blowers," he said. "I think people are inherently conscientious and want society to be healthy and happy. But it's remarkable that people will do this at great potential peril to their careers.
"People like Dierkes have a great deal of job protection -- at least on paper.
Jeffrey M. Kaplan, a New York attorney, helps organizations develop programs to encourage whistle-blowing. During the past decade federal law has promoted protection of whistle-blowers. And organizations that don't have whistle-blower protections in place can suffer enormous fines and legal settlements.
In 1991, the U.S. Sentencing Commission developed the federal Sentencing Guidelines for Organizations that lower the boom on companies that punish whistle-blowers. Under the guidelines, companies and governmental agencies that don't protect whistle-blowers can face "devastating punishment" for violations of federal law, Kaplan says.
Organizations that advocate on behalf of whistle-blowers see the law as a step in the right direction. But many experts believe it leaves too much to chance.
Kaplan says organizations need not only a strong written policy, but that supervisors and managers have to embrace the spirit of the words.
"Not only does there have to be strong policy, but strong follow-up as well," he says. "If somebody has reported a concern the company has to follow up with that person to make sure they don't feel they're the subject of retaliation."
Supervisors who feel threatened by whistle-blowers need training to make certain they don't try to retaliate in subtle ways.
No matter what the written policy says, human nature will try to intervene, Kaplan says. And it's just human nature to want to retaliate against someone who's blown the whistle on you.
But it's also human nature for some employees to want to use the system to exact revenge on their bosses.
Johnnie M. Bell, administrator of the Oregon Bureau of Labor and Industries' civil rights division, says her office receives about 50 complaints each year from workers who claim they've been retaliated against because of whistle-blowing.
Many, she says, are from disgruntled workers seeking revenge for what turns out to be dismissal for just cause.
If you decide to blow the whistle, you should be prepared for a hostile reaction from superiors.
Lori Tansey Martens, president of the International Business Ethics Institute, based in Washington, D.C., says that "few people truly love the whistle-blower."
"Some of that comes from our culture," she says. "Just listen to the words -- snitch, fink, rat, tattletale -- there's a general sense that that's not a nice thing to do."
But amid the debris of Enron, there's evidence that whistle-blowers can be heroes.
Martens' institute consults on ethics issues with both U.S. and foreign companies.
Whistle-blowing is an almost uniquely American pursuit, she says.
Employees in other countries are far more reticent to approach the boss with bad news. In South Korea, for example, "your loyalty is more to your direct boss than to the company," Martens says.
In China there's a lot of resentment toward whistle-blowers left over from the Cultural Revolution, when students reported on their teachers and children informed on their parents. And in Europe, people have bad memories of the Gestapo, which encouraged informing.
Don Soeken, director of the nonprofit Integrity International Inc. in Laurel, Md., knows about whistle-blowing firsthand. Soeken, a licensed clinical social worker, advocates on behalf of whistle-blowers and acts as an expert witness in court.
A former whistle-blower himself, Soeken runs a retreat where those who have spoken out against their employers can talk about their experiences, which include wrecked careers, broken marriages and depression.
Despite legal protections, Soeken says, organizations are adept at ridding themselves of whistle-blowers, who are seen as troublemakers. Subtle pressure, he says, can work wonders.
Having the reputation of a whistle-blower "is almost like a brand," he says. "They've branded you, and that's it."
But those who speak out often don't think of the consequences.
"They don't know where they're going because they're on the side of the angels," he says. "Morality is guiding them. And once you're caught it takes five seconds for you to lose your career."
"Most whistle-blowers are absolutists," he said. "They learn it from their families. They've been taught as children to tell the truth."
What their parents don't tell them is that telling the truth can get you into a lot of trouble with the boss.
"Your rewards for blowing the whistle aren't financial," he says. "They're tied up in theological feelings of right and wrong, in ethical considerations of doing the right thing.
"Often, he says, they're seen as bull-headed, inflexible, uncompromising.
"It's hard to stop these people," he says. "Some would say they're nuts. They just put their heads down and go."
Meanwhile, Dierkes has no regrets about telling the EPA about the school's problems.
"I really believe that more people should speak up," she says. "But I don't promise you a rosy road or an easy time of it. But even if you lose your job, there's worse things." You can reach Patrick O'Neill at 503-221-8233 or by e-mail at poneill@news.oregonian.com. |
