The idea came to me
during a conversation I was having with a whistleblower who was describing to
me what it feels like to report wrongdoing and not be taken seriously. I had called this
particular acquaintance because I had done a bit of whistle-blowing myself and
wondered whether the after-effects of my actions were common among us. I wanted to know, for
instance, whether the feelings of rage and betrayal that I felt were normal,
and whether my bouts of insomnia would ever go away.
"It may take months to
recover," he confided. "You will find yourself alone. Friends and colleagues
will abandon you. You will begin to question your relationships. Life will
never be the same."
Whistleblowers around the
world have consistently reported feelings of isolation, betrayal and
abandonment after they have reported incidences of corruption, malpractice or
abuse of office.
In 2002, when Cynthia
Cooper told the audit committee of WorldCom's board that she suspected
irregularities in the company's auditing practices, her colleagues stopped
chatting with her and not a single senior executive thanked her for the
revelation. That same year, when
Sherron Watkins of Enron reported "an elaborate accounting hoax" to the
chairman, Kenneth Lay, she was quickly demoted. (Lay was eventually indicted
and found guilty of fraud and conspiracy but died before he could serve his
sentence.)
My own attempts to report
suspected mismanagement of taxpayers' money and unethical conduct at an
international organisation were met swiftly with denial and intimidation. Failure to bully me into
submission was followed by stony silence. The message was clear: if you pursue
this, we will shun and punish you - you will be ostracised.
A management consultant
who I spoke to about my ordeal told me that this reaction is common in big
bureaucracies where self-preservation - rather than productivity - is the
driving force among managers. Managers in such organisations believe their job
is to control, rather than inspire, their subordinates. I thought then of John
Githongo and the late David Munyakei. In their darkest hour, did they reprimand
themselves for being so naïve? Did they regret their decision to blow the
whistle?
When nothing changed
after they had uncovered the misdeeds, and the forces of corruption colluded in
a massive cover-up, did they wish they had been smarter and taken the easier
option of looking the other way?
Ironically,
whistleblowers are very often those who are most committed, not only to the
work that they do, but to the organisations that they serve. Named Persons of the Year
by Time magazine in 2002 (along with FBI agent Coleen Rowley who reported the
bureau's failure to follow up on key terrorist suspects), Cooper and Watkins
were described by the magazine as "the truest of the true believers, ever
faithful to the idea that where they worked was a place that served the wider
world in some important way."
Their act of blowing the
whistle was a last-ditch attempt to save their organisations from ruin. Time
noted: "Sometimes it's the keepers of the flame who feel most compelled to set
their imperfect temple to the torch."
"At times I felt I was in
a very dark place," Cooper told Time. The only thing that kept her sane, she
said, was reading passages from the Bible: Her fellow whistleblower Watkins
eventually left her job to champion reforms in corporate governance structures.
Seven years later, the world wishes there were more people like her in the
corporate world.
The recent global
financial crisis has shown that unethical conduct can have dire consequences
and affect millions of lives. The recognition that corruption can seriously
destroy economies led another woman - Liberian President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf
- to pass a law last month that protects and compensates whistleblowers who
come forward with information on corrupt practices.
Corruption destroys not
just economies, but organisations and individuals. Productivity declines,
cynicism pervades all facets of work, and sycophancy and mediocrity become the
norm. Such organisations soon
become irrelevant or die prematurely. Conscientious employees are pushed to the
wall until they have no choice but to walk away, by resigning or asking for a
transfer. (Sometimes walking away - rather than fighting back - is the only way
to salvage one's dignity.)
When
I walked away from my job, I felt oddly alive, despite the bouts of insomnia.
Would I do it again? I am not so sure. But like Watkins, I keep thinking of
this quote by the late Martin Luther King Jr.: "Our lives begin to end the day
we become silent about things that matter."
This wonderful piece perfectly describes the emotional toll of whistleblowing, nevermind the professional, social and economic repercussions. I believe such a club is long overdue would have a loyal membership!
report abuse
vote down
vote up
Votes: +0
Asanti written by Victoria Luckie , February 11, 2010
TrackBack URI for this entry
Subscribe to this comment's feed
Show/Hide comments
This wonderful piece perfectly describes the emotional toll of whistleblowing, nevermind the professional, social and economic repercussions. I believe such a club is long overdue would have a loyal membership! 
Show/Hide comment form
