By David
S. Prescott, LICSW, and Kieran
McCartan, PhD
Note: This is part 1 of a 2 part blog. Kieran.
A clinical director recently shared a
concern in a staff meeting about an adolescent on probation. The treatment team
had built a program around the youth to address his sexually abusive behavior
and general mental health. Now, the
treatment team assessed him as being at low risk and were understandably proud
of their contributions to his progress in building a lifestyle incompatible
with causing harm to others. Their approach had been team-based,
multidisciplinary, and comprehensive. As he neared the end of treatment, his
probation officer expressed concerns. “As we all know,” he said, “his seemingly
good behavior is a huge red flag that things aren’t right,” which raised
concerns about the implications for the youth’s future, as well as their own
clinical judgment.
The treatment team found itself in a
paradox. If the young man were to behave badly, others would judge him to be in
need of treatment. If he behaved well, the natural assumption for some would be
that he must be behaving in a secretive manner.
Those working in the field will recognize this as a belief that persists
in some quarters despite very strong evidence to the contrary. If your work is
simply about managing risk, it’s easy to see risk everywhere.
The impact on the young man’s treatment
team was apparent almost in its absence; they had heard this before. Despite a
solid base of scientific evidence, it would be difficult to convince others
that this young man really was more than the sum of his worst behavior.
Although he posed a low risk to abuse again, the team recognized that he was at
very high risk to be prevented from living up to his full potential. Concerning
to the author who sat in on this team meeting was that the staff had heard this
all before. They have spent their careers aware of risks, helping people
change, and being merchants of hope for young people in their families, all the
while surrounded by people who would not support their efforts.
To be blunt, these experiences of
disrespect have a cumulative effect and cause harm to the people who do so much
to help others build worthwhile lives and safe communities. Such experiences beg the question that if we
cannot believe people are able to change, then what is the point in treatment?
It can feel that we are simply moving the deckchairs around and biding time as
the Titanic sinks. Treatment – especially belief in treatment – is fundamental
to its process. If we want clients like this young man to cooperate and
prosper, then we need to have buy-in throughout the whole multidisciplinary system,
not just a few members of staff. Risk management is not simply about
containment and control, it’s about skill-building, desistance, and change. When
we are caught up in our client’s journeys, then their successes and failures
reflect on us. The staff was not acutely burned out yet, but neither were they
allowed to work at their best. Instead, they found themselves in an ongoing
state of lamenting that so many of their efforts were unrecognized, undervalued,
and disrespected.
In 2018, Simon Talbot and Wendy Dean
wrote an article
on what they termed the “moral injury” of physicians who do not have the
opportunity to be as effective as they could be. More recently, they have noted
that these professional moral injuries are the precursors to burnout. They
state:
“We
have come to believe that burnout is the end stage of moral injury, when
clinicians are physically and emotionally exhausted with battling a
broken system in their efforts to provide good care; when they feel
ineffective because too often they have met with immovable barriers to
good care; and when they depersonalize patients because emotional
investment is intolerable when patient suffering is inevitable as a result of
system dysfunction.
“We
believe that moral injury occurs when the basic elements of the medical
profession are eroded. These are autonomy, mastery, respect, and
fulfillment, which are all focused around the central principle
of purpose.”
As the authors note, autonomy is a
basic element of training. Whether we are physicians or mental health
clinicians, we are taught to think independently when considering diagnoses and
to guard against the competing interests of those who may try to sway our
treatment decisions away from our patients’ best interests. However, in many
facets of our work, we are required to forfeit our autonomy and allow other
interests to sway our decisions about care—most commonly for financial reasons.
This can be a serious consideration for professionals who feel pressured into
ethically questionable actions and whose licenses may be on the line.
When our own autonomy, mastery, fulfillment,
and sense of respect are constantly on the line, how can we expect to be at our
most effective with clients? Ultimately, this poses its own dilemmas related to
public safety.