British understatement can be deadly
A few months ago a British citizen angrily demanded, in response to a BBC series on black history: ‘Why is there never a White History Month?’
I assume the inquiry was in all seriousness. Rather like the goldfish asking ‘What is water?’ those who have grown up in a majority white, western nation do not see the ingrained bias of the history we are acquainted with. One of its characteristics in the UK is understatement. The age of conquest, looting and slavery from 1492 to the 19th Century is called ‘The Age of Discovery’. An armed independence movement against colonial rule in India in 1857 is called ‘a mutiny’. Civil war in Northern Ireland? ‘The Troubles’. It was just a bit of bother.
Culturally, understatement forms part of British humour. If we get engaged in the morning and win the lottery in the afternoon, we say: ‘Well, I’ve had worse days’.
In a social setting, subtle understatement can be charming. In history and politics, however, it can be a deadly deception. And it goes on today. Over the past 18 months I have become aware of the harsh and oppressive treatment that whistleblowers are subjected to in the UK, especially if they are reporting wrongdoing within the public sector, and especially if their claims are both serious and genuine. Tactics by defending employers and their legal representatives include: threatening a costs order against the claimant on false grounds; launching a barrage of dirty tricks against the claimant, then branding them ‘vexatious’ if they protest through the proper channels. Threatening a costs order to intimidate them to reduce their claim — and then, a few months later, threatening a costs order to compensate for the time taken up with handling claims that were later dropped. Evidence is routinely hidden from the legal process — and then if the claimant launches Freedom of Information requests to rectify this deficiency, this is brandished as evidence of ‘vexatious’ conduct. I have witnessed a judge tolerate such mendacious and threatening practices by defending employers. I have witnessed judges actively encourage them. Some whistleblowers have lost their homes, others forced into exile. Many have had their claims overwhelmingly verified by independent authoritative bodies (expert consultancies, the General Medical Council, coroners’ reports), yet still their lives are ruined. Some whistleblowers have committed suicide.
As I was writing this blog, the report in the avoidable deaths of Shrewsbury and Telford NHS maternity care was published, and the Health Secretary Sajid Javid promised that things would change. There is almost zero chance of this. It is nine years since the Francis Report into a similar scandal at Mid-Staffordshire came to similar conclusions, and I have heard from numerous NHS whistleblowers about similar scandals that are successfully covered up by punishing the whistleblower, a process in which the legal system plays a key role. As one whistleblower said recently at a meeting I attended: At least in Putin’s Russia, you know the hearing is going to be unfair.
In the official campaigns on whistleblowers’ rights, however, this all gets airbrushed or toned down. Campaigners refer to ‘unfairness’ or ‘inequality of arms’ in respect of access to legal resources. A parliamentary report that confirmed many oppressive tactics bore the bland title: ‘Making Whistleblowing Work for Society’.
It reminded me of working on a Parliamentary report in 2014 on the state of management in the UK, for the Chartered Management Institute. In the recent past there had been the banking scandals — corruption and mismanagement imposing billions of pounds of costs on the taxpayer. There had been major mismanagement of IT programs in the public sector, again with huge costs. When I suggested that such scandals be addressed in the report, to highlight the strategic importance of good governance and management, this was not well received. The final report was so bland it basically said nothing. Curiously, I recall that the only other individual on the team expressing concern over the toned-down nature of the report was a young non-British intern, who sadly had little influence. I was never asked to work for the CMI again.
In Britain, one has the freedom to expose corruption and oppression, but almost as soon as you do so, the instinct for understatement reclassifies it as just a bit of administrative untidiness, an unsatisfactory state of affairs that maybe just requires a few nudges to improve things (and in practice nothing ever does get done to improve things), even when, or perhaps especially when, the injustice, wrongdoing or maladministration is severe. Collectively, we just cannot bear too much reality, so we like to pretend that things are not so bad, really.
This is not a virtue. It is a scandal.
