What is the cost of whistle-blowing?  What is it when reporting someone or something to the Inspector General‘s office?  What is the result of not exposing malfeasance?

What is the price of silence?

There are so many human emotions and dynamics swirling around offices that it is virtually impossible to accurately identify and dissect them.

Where should we start?

For me, two factors explain the silence.  First, we do not wish to appear to be snitches, malcontents, or failing to be team players.  Second, we could be wrong.  Our emotions of hurt and anger may cloud our judgment.  Those whom we adjudge and assail as the legal and moral equivalents of Al Capone or Adolph Hitler may actually have some good reasons for doing what they do.

In those two rationales and fears lay all disincentives for coming forward and exposing abuses. 

You may say that I missed the biggest danger:  Fear of Job Loss!

That’s legitimate, for sure, but I feel it is a corollary of the two main reasons.  If we did not harbor thoughts of fallibility or rejection, why would we believe our jobs were at risk? 

On the contrary, we would expect that those who expose high crimes and misdemeanors would be lionized, praised, and promoted (figuratively and literally) as protectors of the common good.  Yet, such results are not often reported and, likely, may not occur in the real world with any meaningful frequency.

Thus, we have reached critical mass in this essay.  The price we pay for silence.  It is incalculable.  Sure, a portion can be quantified.  In their reports, General Accountability Office (GAO) and Inspectors General (IGs) identify specific costs of program mismanagement.  However, the human cost – the real cost – can never be plumbed.  This is the cost of an organization’s soul. 

People remain silent as their enterprise deteriorates into anguish and oblivion.  They do not want to rock the boat.  They do not want to raise questions that may not have simple, clear solutions that can be easily implemented. 

It would be wonderful if the waste and sickness and heart-break could be eliminated immediately without untidy fallout.  Yet we know that simple antidotes do not exist.  We bump up against the true price of silence.  We keep plugging along either hoping that the illness will cure itself or that we can adapt sufficiently to perform our jobs and be able to look at ourselves in the mirror each morning without feeling a knot in our stomachs.

Sometimes the problem is so pervasive and endemic that nothing short of a neutron bomb can fix things.  When the state of your office has reached that point — and I have both experienced it and heard of it from others — action is needed.  Once an organization has rotted so extensively that the troops are at least in a passive-aggressive mutiny, the decay becomes so apparent that others ultimately will act.  This could be an agency executive who has finally discerned the scope of the problem and realizes that changes – usually reassignments or reorganizations – must be taken quickly, or a third-party, such as an IG or the GAO, submits such damning narratives that Department heads must respond with alacrity and resolve.

Meanwhile, we have this outlet:  “The Forum.”  Here we can share problems and concerns.  This is a vehicle where reasoned discourse can occur, where the pros and cons of issues can be debated and resolved.

I have heard that more agencies are restricting employee use and participation in such Internet forums as ours to ensure proper use of government Information Technology (IT) assets.  This is understandable given recent reports of computer security breaches and misuse of government resources.   Therefore, we may not enjoy as many voices in our debates as we would like.

However, in the end, each of us must judge whether the price we pay for silence exceeds the cost we incur in our government operations and, perhaps most important, our souls.

Fred Apelquist, contributing editor

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