Whistleblowers and Regret

Whistleblowers and Regret

There’s a lot not to like about being a whistleblower.  Some, like Mark Whitaker who disclosed price-fixing by food company Archer Daniels Midland, say they would not do it again.  Part of Whitaker’s problem was he embezzled millions from the company and spent nine years in prison for it.   But most – 90% in one study – don’t regret their actions.  I don’t regret blowing the whistle on HomeFirst Services of Santa Clara County even though I lost my job as a result.

Regret is tricky.  As Bernard Williams discussed in Moral Luck, regretting one’s action comes well after the act itself.  Whitaker was gung-ho in 1992 when he informed the FBI and during the next three years as he wore a wire to gather evidence against ADM.  By 1998 when he was sentenced he had surely lost his enthusiasm.

Williams distinguishes regret for an act we commit from that for an event we are not responsible for.  It’s a matter of perspective. 

Say a man drives his truck down a residential street after having a beer with lunch.  A child jumps out between two parked cars and his struck by his vehicle.  As observers, we are saddened by the incident and regret that it occurred.  But our regret pales by comparison with that of the parents who loved the child and feel guilt for letting her play as she did.  Perhaps worst of all is the remorse of the driver responsible for the accident.  But if he denies his liability – he is a big man who can drink a beer with no effect on his driving abilities – and blames it on chance, the child, and the poor parenting she received, his regret becomes almost like that of any by-stander.

Like observers of the truck accident, all community members might deplore the violations we disclose.  Sometimes they do.  Edward Snowden’s disclosures generated public ire and sparked political action that is one hoped-for product of regret.  Whitaker’s led to $400 million in fines levied on ADM.  After I made my disclosures about HomeFirst, though, few showed any interest in the matters.

Early writers, like Sissela Bok, thought the whistleblower should lament having betrayed her team loyalty, but most of us figure the organization that retaliates against us has much more to apologize for. 

We might regret the way we conducted ourselves at the company.  This is common.  Nancy Mendoca was a caregiver at Rescare, in California.  She recorded in a logbook that a patient was left in unsanitary conditions.  She and her supervisor argued about it.  She called State regulators, which investigated and issued a citation to the facility.  After that Mendoca got into another argument with her boss.  It can drive you crazy when the company doesn’t change the misbehavior we point out.  She behaved very disrespectfully, the company said, and she was fired.  She lost her whistleblower complaint.  She might regret her words, but she probably thinks her boss had it coming.

While I was CFO at HomeFirst, I began identifying possible violations in July 2013 and kept finding more problems until I was fired in June 2014.  During that time I became increasingly impatient that little was being done to correct the problems.  I got more frustrated when I was excluded from management discussions.  Like Mendoca, I was probably disrespectful.  I admit calling my boss “a piece of work” and a liar didn’t help my case.  Even though I felt justified, I can regret that, I guess.

There are many other things we might wish had been different.  I can regret ever getting involved in that hot mess of a company in the first place or that I didn’t leave after the inept, new CEO was hired.  I can say next time I’ll wait until after I retire to do my disclosing.  Like most whistleblowers, I would have preferred not to lose my job.  And not to hire that worthless attorney.  And not to worry so much about the repercussions when I was there and about fighting it all when I wasn’t anymore.  I’m sad that friends didn’t support me as I’d hoped.  Poor me.

But my whistleblowing project, I don’t regret that.

While constant fretting can be a stressor, some think regret can help us make sense of our lives and avoid future mistakes.  Despite those potential benefits, we are reluctant to regret our ventures.  I can understand that.  There is no great logic to our exposure of wrongdoing: it’s mostly about power and not a world we’re trying to improve.  Our decision to disclose matters is driven first by the same emotions that are likely to lead us in an unproductive direction the next time around.

The main thing we learn in whistleblowing is to avoid it in the future.  Generally the only ones who repeat are serial whistleblowers in the business of filing False Claims Act lawsuits.

I took one additional lesson from my experience.  I stopped trusting government offices.  And I decided most nonprofits, like HomeFirst, cannot be trusted.  I have no faith in Downtown Streets Team, which pays its “volunteer” workers $5/hour.  I objected, but no one cared.  Still, I volunteer help for DST’s food closet program, where I enjoy the clients and fellow volunteers. 

I find my hands are dirty, too.  I put up with it for now.  But I am jaded.  I used to give money to companies I worked for and believed in, HomeFirst included.  I don’t anymore.  I wish things were different, but that’s how it is.