In the northwest corner of the United States, right up near the Canadian border, there's a little town called Libby, Montana, and it's surrounded by pine trees and lakes and just amazing wildlife and these enormous trees that scream up into the sky. And in there is a little town called Libby, which I visited, which feels kind of lonely, a little isolated. And in Libby, Montana, there's a rather unusual woman named Gayla Benefield. She always felt a little bit of an outsider, although she's been there almost all her life, a woman of Russian extraction. She told me when she went to school, she was the only girl who ever chose to do mechanical drawing. Later in life, she got a job going house to house reading utility meters -- gas meters, electricity meters. And she was doing the work in the middle of the day, and one thing particularly caught her notice, which was, in the middle of the day she met a lot of men who were at home, middle aged, late middle aged, and a lot of them seemed to be on oxygen tanks. It struck her as strange. Then, a few years later, her father died at the age of 59, five days before he was due to receive his pension. He'd been a miner. She thought he must just have been worn out by the work. But then a few years later, her mother died, and that seemed stranger still, because her mother came from a long line of people who just seemed to live forever. In fact, Gayla's uncle is still alive to this day, and learning how to waltz. It didn't make sense that Gayla's mother should die so young. It was an anomaly, and she kept puzzling over anomalies. And as she did, other ones came to mind. She remembered, for example, when her mother had broken a leg and went into the hospital, and she had a lot of x-rays, and two of them were leg x-rays, which made sense, but six of them were chest x-rays, which didn't. She puzzled and puzzled over every piece of her life and her parents' life, trying to understand what she was seeing. She thought about her town. The town had a vermiculite mine in it. Vermiculite was used for soil conditioners, to make plants grow faster and better. Vermiculite was used to insulate lofts, huge amounts of it put under the roof to keep houses warm during the long Montana winters. Vermiculite was in the playground. It was in the football ground. It was in the skating rink. What she didn't learn until she started working this problem is vermiculite is a very toxic form of asbestos. When she figured out the puzzle, she started telling everyone she could what had happened, what had been done to her parents and to the people that she saw on oxygen tanks at home in the afternoons. But she was really amazed. She thought, when everybody knows, they'll want to do something, but actually nobody wanted to know. In fact, she became so annoying as she kept insisting on telling this story to her neighbors, to her friends, to other people in the community, that eventually a bunch of them got together and they made a bumper sticker, which they proudly displayed on their cars, which said, "Yes, I'm from Libby, Montana, and no, I don't have asbestosis." But Gayla didn't stop. She kept doing research. The advent of the Internet definitely helped her. She talked to anybody she could. She argued and argued, and finally she struck lucky when a researcher came through town studying the history of mines in the area, and she told him her story, and at first, of course, like everyone, he didn't believe her, but he went back to Seattle and he did his own research and he realized that she was right. So now she had an ally. Nevertheless, people still didn't want to know. They said things like, "Well, if it were really dangerous, someone would have told us." "If that's really why everyone was dying, the doctors would have told us." Some of the guys used to very heavy jobs said, "I don't want to be a victim. I can't possibly be a victim, and anyway, every industry has its accidents." But still Gayla went on, and finally she succeeded in getting a federal agency to come to town and to screen the inhabitants of the town -- 15,000 people -- and what they discovered was that the town had a mortality rate 80 times higher than anywhere in the United States. That was in 2002, and even at that moment, no one raised their hand to say, "Gayla, look in the playground where your grandchildren are playing. It's lined with vermiculite." This wasn't ignorance. It was willful blindness. Willful blindness is a legal concept which means, if there's information that you could know and you should know but you somehow manage not to know, the law deems that you're willfully blind. You have chosen not to know. There's a lot of willful blindness around these days. You can see willful blindness in banks, when thousands of people sold mortgages to people who couldn't afford them. You could see them in banks when interest rates were manipulated and everyone around knew what was going on, but everyone studiously ignored it. You can see willful blindness in the Catholic Church, where decades of child abuse went ignored. You could see willful blindness in the run-up to the Iraq War. Willful blindness exists on epic scales like those, and it also exists on very small scales, in people's families, in people's homes and communities, and particularly in organizations and institutions. Companies that have been studied for willful blindness can be asked questions like, "Are there issues at work that people are afraid to raise?" And when academics have done studies like this of corporations in the United States, what they find is 85 percent of people say yes. Eighty-five percent of people know there's a problem, but they won't say anything. And when I duplicated the research in Europe, asking all the same questions, I found exactly the same number. Eighty-five percent. That's a lot of silence. It's a lot of blindness. And what's really interesting is that when I go to companies in Switzerland, they tell me, "This is a uniquely Swiss problem." And when I go to Germany, they say, "Oh yes, this is the German disease." And when I go to companies in England, they say, "Oh, yeah, the British are really bad at this." And the truth is, this is a human problem. We're all, under certain circumstances, willfully blind. What the research shows is that some people are blind out of fear. They're afraid of retaliation. And some people are blind because they think, well, seeing anything is just futile. Nothing's ever going to change. If we make a protest, if we protest against the Iraq War, nothing changes, so why bother? Better not to see this stuff at all. And the recurrent theme that I encounter all the time is people say, "Well, you know, the people who do see, they're whistleblowers, and we all know what happens to them." So there's this profound mythology around whistleblowers which says, first of all, they're all crazy. But what I've found going around the world and talking to whistleblowers is, actually, they're very loyal and quite often very conservative people. They're hugely dedicated to the institutions that they work for, and the reason that they speak up, the reason they insist on seeing, is because they care so much about the institution and want to keep it healthy. And the other thing that people often say about whistleblowers is, "Well, there's no point, because you see what happens to them. They are crushed. Nobody would want to go through something like that." And yet, when I talk to whistleblowers, the recurrent tone that I hear is pride. I think of Joe Darby. We all remember the photographs of Abu Ghraib, which so shocked the world and showed the kind of war that was being fought in Iraq. But I wonder who remembers Joe Darby, the very obedient, good soldier who found those photographs and handed them in. And he said, "You know, I'm not the kind of guy to rat people out, but some things just cross the line. Ignorance is bliss, they say, but you can't put up with things like this." I talked to Steve Bolsin, a British doctor, who fought for five years to draw attention to a dangerous surgeon who was killing babies. And I asked him why he did it, and he said, "Well, it was really my daughter who prompted me to do it. She came up to me one night, and she just said, 'Dad, you can't let the kids die.'" Or I think of Cynthia Thomas, a really loyal army daughter and army wife, who, as she saw her friends and relations coming back from the Iraq War, was so shocked by their mental condition and the refusal of the military to recognize and acknowledge post-traumatic stress syndrome that she set up a cafe in the middle of a military town to give them legal, psychological and medical assistance. And she said to me, she said, "You know, Margaret, I always used to say I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grow up. But I've found myself in this cause, and I'll never be the same." We all enjoy so many freedoms today, hard-won freedoms: the freedom to write and publish without fear of censorship, a freedom that wasn't here the last time I came to Hungary; a freedom to vote, which women in particular had to fight so hard for; the freedom for people of different ethnicities and cultures and sexual orientation to live the way that they want. But freedom doesn't exist if you don't use it, and what whistleblowers do, and what people like Gayla Benefield do is they use the freedom that they have. And what they're very prepared to do is recognize that yes, this is going to be an argument, and yes I'm going to have a lot of rows with my neighbors and my colleagues and my friends, but I'm going to become very good at this conflict. I'm going to take on the naysayers, because they'll make my argument better and stronger. I can collaborate with my opponents to become better at what I do. These are people of immense persistence, incredible patience, and an absolute determination not to be blind and not to be silent. When I went to Libby, Montana, I visited the asbestosis clinic that Gayla Benefield brought into being, a place where at first some of the people who wanted help and needed medical attention went in the back door because they didn't want to acknowledge that she'd been right. I sat in a diner, and I watched as trucks drove up and down the highway, carting away the earth out of gardens and replacing it with fresh, uncontaminated soil. I took my 12-year-old daughter with me, because I really wanted her to meet Gayla. And she said, "Why? What's the big deal?" I said, "She's not a movie star, and she's not a celebrity, and she's not an expert, and Gayla's the first person who'd say she's not a saint. The really important thing about Gayla is she is ordinary. She's like you, and she's like me. She had freedom, and she was ready to use it." Thank you very much. (Applause)
Na severozapadnom uglu Sjedinjenih Američkih Država odmah pored kanadske granice, postoji gradić po imenu Libi, u Montani i okružen je borovima i jezerima i zapanjujućim divljim životom i ogromnim drvećem koje se vinulo u nebo. Tamo je gradić nazvan Libi, koji sam posetila i koji odaje utisak samoće i izolovanosti. I u Libiju, u Montani, živi neobična žena po imenu Gejla Benefild. Oduvek se osećala pomalo kao autsajder, iako je provela tamo skoro ceo svoj život, bila je žena ruskog porekla. Rekla mi je da je kad je išla u školu, bila jedina devojka koja je ikada odabrala mašinsko crtanje. Kasnije, dobila je posao da ide od kuće do kuće i očitava komunalije – gas, struju. Obavljala je posao usred dana i jedna stvar joj je posebno pala u oči, a to je da je usred dana sretala puno muškaraca koji su bili kod kuće, srednjih godina, kasnih srednjih godina, i činilo se da su mnogi bili na aparatima za kiseonik. To joj je izgledalo čudno. Zatim, par godina kasnije njen otac je preminuo u 59., pet dana pre no što bi primio svoju penziju. Bio je rudar. Mislila je da je bio iscrpljen poslom. Ali nekoliko godina kasnije njena majka je preminula, a to joj je delovalo čudnije, jer su preci njene majke takvi da bi se reklo da žive zauvek. Zapravo, Gejlin ujak je i dan-danas živ i uči kako da igra valcer. Nije imalo smisla da Gejlina majka umre tako mlada. To je bila anomalija i ona je nastavila da uporno razmišlja o tome. I dok je razmišljala prisećala se drugih stvari. Setila se da, na primer, kada je njena majka polomila nogu i otišla u bolnicu, da je imala mnogo rendgenskih snimaka, dva su bila za nogu, što je imalo smisla, ali bilo je šest snimaka grudi, što nije imalo smisla. Razmišljala je i razmišljala o svakom delu svog života i života svojih roditelja, pokušavajući da razume šta vidi. Razmišljala je o svom gradu. Grad je imao rudnik vermikulita. Vermikulit je korišćen u aditivima za zemlju radi pomoći biljkama da rastu brže i bolje. Vermikulit je korišćen za izolaciju potkrovlja, velike količine se postavljaju ispod krovova da bi zadržale toplotu u kućama tokom dugih zima u Montani. Vermikulit je bio i u igralištima. Bio je u igralištu za fudbal. Bio je u klizalištu. Ono što je ona naučila razrešavajući ovaj problem je da je vermikulit jako toksična forma azbesta. Kada je rešila problem počela je da govori svima kojima je mogla šta se desilo i šta su uradili njenim roditeljima i ljudima koje je videla na aparatima za kiseonik kod kuće u popodnevnim časovima. Ali je zaista bila zapanjena. Mislila je da ako svi znaju želeće da preduzmu nešto, ali zapravo niko nije želeo da zna. Zapravo, postala je toliko dosadna insistiranjem da ispriča ovu priču svojim komšijama, prijateljima, drugim ljudima u zajednici, da se najzad grupa njih sakupila i napravila nalepnicu, koju su ponosno izložili na svojim kolima, a na kojoj je pisalo, "Da, ja sam iz Libija u Montani i ne, ja nemam azbestozu." Ali Gejla nije stala. Nastavila je proučavanje. Napredak interneta joj je definitivno pomogao. Razgovarala je s kim god je mogla. Raspravljala se i raspravljala i konačno je imala sreće kada je jedan istraživač prolazio gradom istraživajući istoriju rudnika u toj oblasti. Rekla mu je svoju priču i naravno na početku, kao i svi drugi, nije joj verovao, ali se vratio u Sijetl i obavio svoje istraživanje i saznao da je bila u pravu. Dakle, sada je imala saveznika. Pa ipak, ljudi i dalje nisu želeli da znaju. Govorili su stvari poput: "Pa, ako je to zaista opasno, neko bi nam rekao." "Ako je to zaista razlog zašto su svi umirali, doktori bi nam rekli." Neki momci koji su radili jako teške poslove rekli su: "Ne želim da budem žrtva. Nemoguće je da budem žrtva i u svakom slučaju, svaka industrija ima svoje nezgode." Ali Gejla je nastavila i konačno uspela da ubedi saveznu agenciju da dođe u grad i proveri stanovnike grada - 15.000 ljudi - i ono šta su otkrili je bilo da je grad imao stopu mortaliteta 80 puta višu no bilo gde u SAD-u. To je bilo u 2002. god. i čak u tom trenutku niko nije podigao ruku i rekao: "Gejla, pogledaj u igralište gde se tvoji unuci igraju. Obloženo je vermikulitom." Ovo nije bilo neznanje. Ovo je bilo namerno slepilo. Namerno slepilo je pravni pojam, koji znači da ako postoji informacija koju bi ti mogao i morao da znaš, ali nekako uspevaš da ne saznaš, zakon smatra da si ti namerno slep. Izabrao si da ne znaš. Postoji dosta namernog slepila ovih dana. Možete videti namerno slepilo u bankama, kada je na hiljade ljudi prodavalo hipoteke ljudima koji nisu mogli da ih sebi priušte. Mogli ste videti u bankama kada su kamatnim stopama manipulisali i kada su svi znali šta se dešava, ali je svako to studiozno ignorisao. Možete videti namerno slepilo u Katoličkoj crkvi, gde su decenije zlostavljanja dece ingnorisane. Mogli ste videti namerno slepilo u zaletu za rat u Iraku. Namerno slepilo postoji u epskim razmerama poput ovih, a takođe postoji u jako malim razmerama, u porodicama, u kućama i zajednicama, a posebno u organizacijama i institucijama. Kompanijama koje su istraživale namerno slepilo mogu se postaviti pitanja poput: "Postoje li pitanja na poslu koja se ljudi plaše da postave?" I kada su akademici završili istraživanja ovog tipa o korporacijama u SAD-u ono što su pronašli jeste da je 85 posto ljudi reklo "da". 85% ljudi zna da postoji problem, ali neće reći ništa. Kada sam ponovila istraživanje u Evropi postavljajući ista pitanja došla sam do potpuno istog broja. Osamdeset pet procenata. To je mnogo tišine. Mnogo slepila. I ono što je zaista interesanto je da kada idem u kompanije u Švajcarskoj kažu mi: "Ovo je jedinstven švajcarski problem." A kada odem u Nemačku, kažu: "O, da, ovo je nemačka bolest." I kada odem u kompanije u Engleskoj, kažu: "O, da, Britanci su zaista loši u ovome." A istina je: ovo je ljudski problem. Svo smo, pod određenim okolnostima, namerno slepi. Ono što istraživanje pokazuje jeste da su neki ljudi slepi iz straha. Plaše se osvete. A neki su ljudi slepi zato što misle da je videti nešto samo uzaludno. Ništa se nikad neće promeniti. Ako protestujemo protiv rata u Iraku, ništa se neće promeniti, pa zašto da se trudimo? Bolje je uopšte ne gledati ove stvari. I stalno prisutna tema koja koju sve vreme srećem je da ljudi govore: "Pa, znate, ljudi koji zaista vide, oni su uzbunjivači i svi znamo šta im se dešava." Tako da postoji duboka mitologija o uzbunjivačima koja kazuje, kao prvo, svi su ludi. Ali ono što sam pronašla putujući svetom i razgovarajući sa uzbunjivačima, je da su to zapravo jako lojalni i prilično često jako konzervativni ljudi. Jako su posvećeni institucijama u kojima rade, a razlog zašto govore, razlog zašto insistiraju da vide, jeste zato što jako brinu o instituciji i žele da je održe zdravom. I druga stvar koju ljudi često govore o uzbunjivačima je: "Pa, nema svrhe, zato što vidiš šta im se dešava. Nezaštićeni su. Niko ne bi želeo da prođe kroz nešto takvo." A ipak, kada pričam sa uzbunjivačima, povratni ton koji čujem je ponos. Mislim na Džoa Darbija. Svi pamtimo fotografije Abu Grejba, koje su veoma šokirale svet i pokazale kakva vrsta rata se vodi u Iraku. Ali zanima me ko pamti Džoa Darbija, jako poslušnog i dobrog vojnika koji je našao ove fotografije i predao ih. I rekao je: "Znate, nisam ta vrsta čoveka koja bi otkucala ljude, ali neke stvari prosto pređu liniju. Neznanje je blaženstvo, kažu, ali ne možeš da trpiš stvari poput ovih." Razgovarala sam sa Stivom Bolsinom, britanskim doktorom, koji se borio pet godina da privuče pažnju na opasnog hirurga koja je ubijao bebe. Pitala sam ga zašto je to učinio, a on je rekao: "Uradio sam to zbog svoje ćerke. Došla je jedne večeri i samo rekla: "Tata, ne možeš da pustiš decu da umru."" Ili mislim na Sintiju Tomas, jednu zaista lojalnu kćer i suprugu vojnika, koja je, kada je videla svoje prijatelje i rođake kako se vraćaju iz rata u Iraku, bila toliko šokirana njihovim mentalnim stanjem i odbijanjem vojske da prepozna i prizna posttraumatski stresni sindrom da je postavila kafić usred vojnog grada i davala im legalnu, psihološku i medicinsku pomoć. Rekla mi je: "Znaš, Margaret, oduvek sam govorila da ne znam šta želim da budem kada odrastem. Ali našla sam sebe u ovoj stvari i nikada više neću biti ista." Mi danas uživamo u toliko sloboda, teško zarađenim slobodama: slobodi da pišemo i objavljujemo bez straha od cenzure, slobodi koja nije bila ovde kada sam poslednji put došla u Mađarsku; slobodi da glasamo, za šta su posebno žene morale teško da se bore; slobodi da ljudi različitih etničkih i kulturnih i seksualnih orijentacija žive život na način koji žele. Ali sloboda ne postoji ako je ne koristite, a ono šta uzbunjivači rade i šta ljudi poput Gejle Benefild rade, je da koriste onu slobodu koju poseduju. Oni su vrlo spremni da prepoznaju da svakako, ovo će da bude argument, i da, mnogo ću raspravljati sa svojim komšijama i svojim kolegama i prijateljima, ali ću postati jako dobar u ovom konfliktu. I pridobiću one koji govore "ne", zato što će oni učiniti moj argument boljim i jačim. A mogu i sarađivati sa svojim protivnicima da bih postao bolji u onome što radim. Ovo su ljudi ogromne upornosti, neverovatnog strpljenja i apsolutne odlučnosti da ne budu slepi i da ne budu tihi. Kada sam otišla u Libi u Montani, posetila sam kliniku azbestoze koju je Gejla Benefild osnovala, mesto gde su na početku neki ljudi koji su želeli i kojima je bila potrebna medicinska pomoć, ulazili na zadnja vrata, jer nisu želeli da priznaju da je ona bila u pravu. Sedela sam u restoranu i gledala kako kamioni voze gore-dole po autoputu, odnoseći zemlju iz vrtova i zamenjujući je svežom, nezagađenom zemljom. Povela sam svoju dvanaestogodišnu kćer, zato što sam zaista želela da upozna Gejlu. Pitala je: "Zašto? Šta je toliko važno?" Rekla sam: "Ona nije filmska zvezda, nije ni poznata ličnost, a nije ni neki ekspert, Gejla je prva osoba koja bi rekla da nije svetica. Zaista bitna stvar o Gejli je da je ona obična osoba. Ona je poput tebe, poput mene. Imala je slobodu i bila je spremna da je upotrebi." Mnogo vam hvala. (Aplauz)