“I knew that once I did that my life would be different,” he said. “I wouldn’t be getting any more calls from recruiters for the health industry. It was the scariest thing I have done in my life. But it was the right thing to do.”
Wendell Potter, via www.nytimes.com
This is the story of an insurance industry "company man" who was enlisted to help discredit Michael Moore's Sicko— the film that ripped the US Healthcare system a new one.
Instead of piling on, Mr. Potter felt deeply moved by the film.
"A month later, Mr. Potter was back home in Tennessee, visiting his parents and dropped in on a three-day charity program at a county fairgrounds to provide medical care for patients who could not afford doctors. Long lines of people were waiting in the rain, and patients were being examined and treated in public in stalls intended for livestock.
“It was a life-changing event to witness that,” he remembered. Increasingly, he found himself despising himself for helping block health reforms. “It sounds hokey, but I would look in the mirror and think, how did I get into this?”
Now Wendell Potter is a leading activist in healthcare reform— hence, the touching story. But what I want to know is, why is he so singular? What changed in his life that the scales fell from his eyes?
This issue came up again recently, when Lt. William Calley made an emotional confession to a small Kiwanis Club in the MidWest, saying that he has been haunted by his culpability in the My Lai massacre EVERY DAY since it happened. He finds no solace in saying the words, "I was following orders," even though that is exactly how it seemed to him at the time.
What happened this summer, decades later, that prompted this public anguish and remorse? There has been no media curiousity or followup interviews— simply a rehashing of old cold war sentiments, as if that was an explanation of anything.
What this reminds me of is an interview I did with Elliot Aronson on cognitive dissonance, the space between our ideals and our contradictory actions. Elliot and Carol Tavris are the authors of the superbly titled: Mistakes Were Made But Not By Me. We rationalize our destructive behavior all the time as a survival mechanism, even when it goes way beyond redemption— or even of immediate help to our dilemmas.
That is the "status quo." What interests me is when and how we break the cycle of "following orders," defending the indefensible from our cozy little throne. Mr. Potter probably saw many instances of unjust treatment before he went to the county fair or saw a Sicko screening— but his conscience window wasn't open.
Peculiar life events have cracked open my windows, too. I've never been in the position of performing as "The Good German," but I certainly have had my moments of hardening my heart to ease my discomfort. What penetrates the gilded cage?
Loss, certainly. Any gust of mortality that knocks me over is a reminder: "What the hell do we think we're doing here, anyway?"
I'd like to know what leads a man to say, "I Made a Mistake and I Will Make Amends If It's the Last Thing I Do?"
Why does that sentiment seem in ever-shorter supply these days? There's more than one executive in the health insurance business, more than one officer at Guantanamo Bay, who's having trouble sleeping nights. I'd like to hear their stories.
Photo: The original stand-up guy, Siddharta, as told by Herman Hesse-- his book cover.
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