Confessions of an Incrementalist by Joel A. Dvoskin, Ph.D., A.B.P.P.

Confessions of an Incrementalist

By Joel A. Dvoskin, Ph.D., A.B.P.P.
From the Spring 1999 edition of Public Service Psychology,

the
newsletter for Division 18 of the American Psychological Association

In my travels across the country, my work as a consultant or expert
witness has often let me into conditions that were not only
unconstitutional, but horrifying. And yet, in those same systems, I have
seen seemingly decent and hard-working psychologists, working tirelessly to
provide solace and hope to people in very difficult straits.

Some ethicists argue that participating in unacceptable systems is wrong.
They argue that the participation of credentialed professionals legitimizes
and thus perpetuates these systems. They admonish such professionals to
simply walk away, to refuse to play in such a filthy sandbox. And these
arguments seem reasonable.

But when I meet the people who have stayed, I do not find them less
ethical or less moral for it. To the contrary, many of these psychologists,
nurses, psychiatrists, social workers, correctional officers, and
psychiatric technicians have become heroes to me. To maintain one’s
standards of decency and professionalism in the face of an apparently
uncaring political system takes courage and tenacity and goodness of
heart.

These observations lead to several important questions. How then does one
makes sense of this dilemma? How bad can the system be before it is time to
walk away? And how does one walk away from people in such dire need?

I’m not sure why any of you should care where I think about these issues,
but it’s my column, so here is one person’s opinion.

I have learned over the years that I am not a perfectionist. (I mean, I
am really, really, really not a perfectionist.) It’s way too depressing to
me; perfectionists of course never succeeded at anything. Their lives are
spent climbing a ladder that has no top rung. (No offense to those of you
who are; in fact, my heart goes out to you.) And since I actually enjoy
making creative mistakes, for me, perfectionism is especially
uninviting.

No, my friends, I am, to the core of my being, an incrementalist. I
believe in trying to leave everything just a little better than I found it.
I believe in the hokey “star fish” story with all of my heart. I believe
that if everyone who visited a park would take just one extra piece of trash
out with them when they leave, the park would be spotless in less than a
week.

Granted, to many of you, it will not seem like much of an assignment. But
it is my assignment, and I have accepted it.

But what about perpetuating evil? Nonsense. Watch what happens when a
psychologist quits in moral indignation. See if the place closes down. It
won’t, and no matter how good the quitter feels about themselves, if they
were any good, it will be their clients who have been hurt, not the
system.

To me, the moral thing, the ethical thing, is not to cut and run. It is
to maintain one’s dignity and professionalism in the face of bad
circumstances. It is to understand the difference between reasonable
flexibility and selling out. It is speaking with honor and humility (even in
court) about how it ought to be, and resisting the understandable temptation
to sink into self righteous and angry denunciations. It is protecting your
own hope against all assaults, because hope is the most precious gift you
share with your clients.

So, to those of you who do good work in bad settings, I have something to
say. Not only are you behaving in a morally and ethically acceptable manner;
to me you are heroes. Your jail or prison or hospital or free clinic is a
little better each day because you are there. You leave each of your clients
a little better than you find them, and occasionally foster hope in people
for whom hope is but a distant memory.

The time to quit? That’s an easy one. Quit when you run out of gas. Quit
when it hurts you more than it helps them. Quit when the system won’t let
you help, even a little bit. Quit when you become an instrument of harm.
Until then, Godspeed to you, and thanks.

For more information about Dr. Joel A. Dvoskin, or to read more articles by this leading leading forensic psychologist, click here.