Daily Observer
Administration
Strangles Freedom
“You seem engrossed,
Harry,” Lapius muttered.
I dropped the
newspaper. Lapius was in a conversational
mood that would not permit me the luxury of silent concentration. “Sure I’m engrossed. This Watergate affair. Politics sure is a dirty business.”
“On the contrary my
dear boy, it’s a glorious business.””
I was aghast. “I am aghast,” I said. “In the light of these
disclosures how can you make a statement like that?”
“They caught the
scoundrels, didn’t they?”
“Most of them,” I
admitted. “But they don’t always catch
them.”
“Remember, Harry, you
can’t fool all of the people all of the time.”
“But if you fool all of
them just once, that’s the ball game.
You can kiss the country goodbye.”
Lapius slammed his jaws
tightly, preparing to issue a definitive statement. “The country is safe as long as there’s a
free press. Actually, Harry, I have a
lot of faith in the political process.
It is turbulent and encourages conflict.
Paradoxically, the real danger to the country resides in the nature of
Congress.”
Lapius was shifting
ground too fast. “How about
“Don’t be coy,” he
admonished. “I say Congress because they
establish administrative programs, and it is the administrative system that is
choking the country, stifling its freedom.
Administration is the opposite of politics. It is harsh and violent. It permits no conflict. The more programs Congress establishes the
less freedom we have. What once was
accomplished by the tug of war between political pressure groups become
rigidified in a set of rules. The rules
throw the system out of gear. They
replace reason. They replace the pitched
battles of the body politic.”
“Come on Simon. You’re pulling my leg. Look how corrupt politics is.”
“Of course it’s
corrupt; - corruption on all sides.
That’s what gives the political system balance.”
“But look at the
excess.”
“They balance out,
bless them. Excesses to the left and to
the right oscillate finally somewhere near the center. Corruptions cancel each other. Administration, on the other hand while not
itself corrupt, is corrupting. This is
because an administrative program can only be satisfied by a written
record. Since the requirements of a
program are known in advance, people running the program find it compelling to
contrive records that satisfy these requirements. It would be silly of them to do
otherwise. In addition, the
administrative system has no watchdog –.”
“But you just praised
the free press --.”
“Humbug. The press watches only the big events in the
large arenas. It can’t involve itself
with all the minutiae --.” Lapius
stopped short and emitted a sigh of exasperation that zephyr-like, threatened
to blow out the pilot in the stove.
“Harry, do you realize what percentage of our lives is conducted under
administrative codes administered by administrators? By God, it’s a whole new profession to be an
administrator. What was it William
Shannon wrote--?”
After eating, Lapius
was usually too bloated to bestir himself. “There Harry, on my desk under the
blotter. I clipped it but hadn’t filed
it yet. Get it for me like a good lad.”
I trotted obediently
for the clipping and returned with it between my teeth.
“Here’s what
“Men and women who
cannot teach physics or Greek or history, who cannot heal a sick child or build
a bridge or write a poem, such person often find a living in the intellectual
wasteland of educational administration.”
“Of course,” Lapius
continued, “
“Simon,” I tut-tutted,
“You are prejudiced.”
“Not only prejudiced,
Harry, but intolerant. Take a simple
example of an administered enterprise, a hospital. You are familiar with hospitals, doctor, are
you not?” he asked bitingly. I ignored the thrust.
“Look at the conspiracy
of corruption that exists in a hospital.”
I looked but couldn’t
see anything.
“Aren’t you called to
the record room to complete charts, doctor, under threat of having your
privileges taken away? Don’t you have to
insert signatures that have been omitted, cover orders written by a resident
physician in your absence, write final notes on patients that died in the
middle of the night while you were sleeping?”
“Of course, but that’s
just to satisfy requirements of the Joint Commission for Accreditation of
Hospitals (JCAH) and the state inspection committees, that charts be
completed.”
“Precisely. But the assumption is that all this was done
while the patient was still in the hospital.
The true representation of the fact is the appearance of the chart when
the patient leaves the hospital. To
certify a medication you didn’t even know had been administered is fraudulent,
yet there is collusion between all parties, the accreditation committees to
alter a record in order to satisfy some administrative statute.”
“But the statute is
unrealistic.”
“Of course it is. But how can you change it to conform to
reality.”
“Go to the board of
directors,” I suggested lamely.
“The board of
directors! They won’t change a light
bulb unless it is permitted in the hospital code. They are simply an anonymous corporate body
established to insure that the hospital runs properly according to law.”
“What’s wrong with
that?”
“Everything. The law isn’t a sick patient. The law isn’t a tray of cold food, an
overheated room, a hard bench in the emergency room, an understaffed nursing
station. The law isn’t human. True, laws are written to insure the welfare
of the patient, but administrators are trained to look to the law rather than
the patient.”
“What would you
suggest?”
“Conflict, Harry. Conflict between a strong medical staff, a
cohesive staff of employees and the administration, where criticism can fly
back and forth without reprisal. A
tripartite system of equal powers all dedicated to the welfare of the
patient. The individual must be
supreme.”
“But in our society no
individual is above the law.”
“The patient is an exception. The
law must be bent in behalf of his welfare.”
“Suppose there’s a
deadlock between these three equal power.”
“Then take it to
arbitration. Politicize the system. Give it some freedom.”
“Simon,” I said
yawning, “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“You are not,” he
thundered, “I’m not finished yet.”
“Simon. To whom can I take this matter of my going to
bed for arbitration?”
“All right, go to bed,”
he grumbled.