08/03/2016
A Duty to Care.
Years ago, I knew a woman who had told me details of the incident that had led to her arrest. She and her father had been drinking and doing speedballs, (co***ne and he**in), and they both passed out. She woke up; he did not. For her “failure to render aid” she was convicted of manslaughter, and sentenced to twenty years in prison.
I knew another woman who had been in an abusive, manipulative relationship. She was strong-willed, and fought back against the control. She described the relationship as “volatile”. One night, during a particularly ugly fight, her partner threatened to kill himself if she didn't accede to his demands. Then, in a dramatic moment, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife and slashed his wrists. When she tried to call 911, he pulled the phone from the wall and broke it. (This was before cell phones were widely used.) Then, still holding the knife, he threatened her and terrorized her for several hours, saying if she screamed or called for help, he'd kill her, and what was happening was all her fault. He finally passed out from loss of blood. When she made certain that he was really unconscious, she was able to leave the apartment and summon help, but it was too late. He died. For her “failure to render aid”, she was convicted of manslaughter, and sentenced to twenty five years in prison.
An inmate who had spent time in the Colorado Department of Corrections and in county jail, told me once that county was much worse. In addition to not having jobs and never leaving the pod, and really lousy food, people who were still high or drunk or in withdrawal from drugs or alcohol were often brought to the pods and just left there. They were often sick, in pain, puking, shaking, filthy, hallucinating or delusional, and if no other inmates were willing to help, they were left to fend for themselves, in trying to get to the toilets and showers, and then to their bunk. If Medical responded to them at all, a quick assessment often failed to gauge accurately the seriousness of their situation, and they often had to get much worse for Medical to take their condition seriously. Deaths in jails from medical neglect are not rare.
One day, we arrived at the Denver Women's Correctional Facility for regular office hours in the chaplain's office, and were told that just before mid-morning count, an inmate had gotten out of her wheelchair, hobbled up to the third tier in her unit, and dove off. She was dead, and the entire pod had witnessed it. We were needed in the gym. In the gym, there were about sixty women who had been in the pod at the time, gathered in five or six groups, each group facilitated by a Mental Health clinician. The clinicians were trying to get the women to “acknowledge their feelings”, and the women were speaking angrily at the clinicians. I took the chaplain's box of tissues around to all the groups and circled slowly, offering tissues to the women in obvious distress. I gave away a lot of tissues. I had the opportunity to overhear many snatches of angry accusations. All the conversations I was hearing indicated that the woman who had committed su***de had been suicidal for a very long time; that she had told many people, inmates and staff, that she was suicidal; that many of the inmates had informed staff, including Mental Health staff, that this woman was threatening su***de; and that prison staff had failed to respond and intervene. Later, we went to other living units to see if other inmates wanted some grief support, and got much the same story in the other units. The woman had been incarcerated for over a decade, had spent time in every unit, was well known and generally well liked. Many people had noted this woman's mental and emotional condition, had informed staff, and staff did not respond. The anger and fear from the inmates over the the lack of caring was palpable. When staff doesn't care about someone, everyone is at risk.
Years ago, the CDOC presented a mandatory training for all staff at the Denver Complex. At the session I attended, after everyone was seated, a major entered the room, pointed at everyone, and yelled, “YOU ARE NOT A DOCTOR. YOU DO NOT HAVE THE TRAINING AND AUTHORITY TO DIAGNOSE AN OFFENDER. IF AN OFFENDER COMES TO YOU WITH A MEDICAL COMPLAINT, YOU HAVE A LEGAL DUTY TO CARE ABOUT THAT OFFENDER. YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO IGNORE THE OFFENDER, OR TO TELL THE OFFENDER THAT THEY DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM, OR ARE FAKING IT. YOUR JOB IS TO CALL MEDICAL. IMMEDIATELY!!” There was a little more about the statutory references regarding the “duty to care” and the requirements to provide qualified medical services to inmates, and how much trouble we and the Department could get into, but that was the extent of the training. It made me think there had been an incident, and I wondered how serious the incident had been.
A duty to care.
Almost everyone will acknowledge a moral obligation to care about others. The evolution of our species from lone savages to clan groups, communities and civilizations came about because of individuals caring about one another. Caring about each other is the foundation of the social contract, those unspoken, unwritten agreements that make it possible for humans to coexist without destroying each other. The duty to care is so important to civilized society that it has been enshrined in law, and criminal sanctions can be enforced against those people who are neglectful of others to the point that injury or death is the result.
But now we seem to be suffering from compassion burnout. It was pointed out to me recently that Wiccans and Pagans, especially, demonstrate a distinct lack of compassion for many of their fellow human beings. Our theology of personal choice and personal responsibility leads us to feel that people deserve what they get, that they “choose” the circumstances and situations in which they find themselves. And in a narrow sense, this is true. But in a broader sense, it ignores the reality of our current world and current society. We live in a dysfunctional, addicted, codependent, criminal culture. The dysfunctions and addictions stretch back through generations, and everyone is affected to a lesser or greater degree by dysfunctional upbringings and histories of addiction and abuse in their families of origin, through no fault of their own. Everyone struggles with inner demons of various shapes and sizes, and some people are more successful than others in their struggles. Compassion does not insist that we accept or excuse bad behavior. Individuals, and institutions, need to be held accountable when they fail in their duty to care, and violate the standards of the social contract. What compassion urges us to do is to look beyond the surface of the bad behavior, and recognize the spiritual damage in which the bad behavior is rooted, and, where we can, bring healing. It is our duty. Because we care.
