I hate to be a downer, especially
so close to the end of my blog year, when I should be whooping myself into a
frenzy of excitement. There is just too
much in the news to ignore. Among these
things is the recent tragedy surrounding the London nurse who was duped into
providing medical information to crank caller radio DJs from Australia.
I have always been a bit of a
royal-buff, fascinated like many Americans by the monarchy that we banned from
our shores back in the 18th Century.
I have long followed reports on Prince Charles (as one who shares his
birthday, I always felt somehow connected), watched live when he married Diana,
and cried while glued to the television the weekend she died tragically. The recent marriage of Will and Kate is a
breath of fresh air in an otherwise gloomy world, their young love welcome as
they parade their smiles and goodwill across the globe. The recent news of their expectancy seems
to play right into the hands of the British public, who react in such a
proprietary manner to any and all goodness that emanates from the royal couple.
It all came to a halt with a crank
phone call. I have listened with amusement many times
while radio DJs called various individuals during their 15 minutes of
fame. It is not unusual to try to reach out during a morning "drive time" to talk to a dog owner, or school administrator, or some other faceless person who was elevated from anonymity by a peculiar circumstance. I remember, in particular, a DJ’s
reaching out to a Midwestern woman who was sued ruthlessly by Donald Trump over
the name of her small ceramic studio, “You’re Fired.” They teased her for daring to cross “The
Donald,” when in actuality she was a small business owner whose shop was opened
before Donald Trump trademarked his catchphrase. It was
good fun. But this Australian prank was
another matter. Although impersonating
the royals can be inocuous, (and it often is) this act sought as
its purpose to expose personal medical information to the public over a live
broadcast. It was ill-conceived and
mean-spirited in every way.
What makes it even sadder is that
an exemplary employee became collateral damage.
There was no thought of the consequences to employees who might have
been unwittingly caught up in the scheme. Hospitals
today take patient confidentiality very seriously, handling breaches
unforgivingly and with dispatch. In this
country, patient confidentiality is the law of the land. Computer systems keep an audit trail of
access to information with date and time stamps. There are “compliance officers” who are
responsible for certifying the policies and procedures that protect patient
data. Information in a medical facility
is as protected as funds in a bank.
Now, the Australian radio station
is trying to demonstrate an appropriate level of responsibility and remorse, suspending
the morally bankrupt DJs “temporarily” and offering to donate advertising
revenue through the end of the year to the nurse’s family. The British authorities, however, are not
buying it. They find these actions to be
token efforts at best. Without a legal
means by which to hold the station and the DJs culpable in the nurse’s death,
they are calling foul for not issuing formal apology letters to both Kate and
the nurse’s family and for deciding unilaterally that half a million dollars is
reasonable compensation for a life tragically lost.
I remember as a child learning
two very important lessons about responsibility. The first was to say “I’m sorry.” It is difficult for a kid (and many adults)
to utter these words because it is natural to want to skirt the blame. Many people issue veiled apologies. When you listen carefully they are paying lip
service to the expected contrition without actually admitting guilt. We hear, “I’m
sorry you got hurt,” as opposed to being sorry for committing the act that did
the hurting. As a kid, I learned to
blurt out “Sorry” as a reflex. I was
always being accused of one transgression or another and I hoped the word would
shield me from punishment. But my father,
shrewd as he was about crime and punishment, would always force an
allocution. I once made the mistake of
offering the childish gem, “I’m sorry for getting caught.” Needless to say, the idea of responsibility
for my actions was a hard-learned lesson.
The other aspect of
responsibility that I learned as a kid is that “sorry” does not erase the
crime. I remember my mother’s dramatic
recitation: “If you crash someone’s car,
sorry doesn’t fix it. If you shoot
someone dead, sorry doesn’t bring them back.”
The point she was making is that there is a difference between a mistake
and an irrevocable deed. If you make a
mistake or have an accident, a heartfelt apology can be just the ticket. But when you do something deliberately that
you know is wrong, an apology is not only inadequate, it is unacceptable. You cannot be “sorry” for robbing someone’s
house, kidnapping their child, or violating their civil rights. You can only show remorse.
I’m afraid we have reached a
point in society where the lines of right and wrong have become so blurred that
we can no longer mediate our own behaviors.
Insult comedy, in particular, has changed the canon of what is
acceptable and proper. Seth MacFarlane can represent Sarah Jessica
Parker as a horse and it is okay because it’s “comedy.” It’s
no wonder that members of Congress think they can heckle the President during
the State of the Union.
The more our world operates at an
arm’s length through invisible and anonymous global wide communication, the
less responsible individuals feel for their own actions. I have seen people shamelessly trashing their
Facebook “friends” for having different opinions. It is so much easier to be callous,
insensitive and cruel when you do not have to look someone in the eye. I feel
that society should brand such behavior as cowardly—like shooting someone in
the back.
None of this, of course, will
help the family of the poor nurse who answered the phone while on duty and did
her job. Or the princess, whose personal
medical report was broadcast halfway around the globe. I am with the British officials who think
that crying on You Tube is not punishment enough for two professionals who used
their positions and media credentials to hurt others, knowing that they had no
standing to attempt access. And even
though the tragic fate of the nurse was an unintended consequence, it does not
exempt the DJs from responsibility for her death. This was a reckless crime involving an over-reach
of power and demonstrating a wanton disregard for privacy and decency. It may have been perpetrated across a phone line, but it is a line that should never have been crossed.
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