Banning Wilders
When I was a prison doctor, not a few prisoners would demand tranquillizers from me, claiming to be so agitated that they would soon kill someone if they were not calmed down.
This was the kind of blackmail to which some of the doctors, especially the younger ones, did give in; but I quickly learned that it was both morally wrong and inexpedient in practice to do so.
The conversations would go something like this:
‘I need my valium, doctor.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m all wound up.’
‘What about?’
‘If I don’t get my valium, I’ll kill someone.’
‘I advise you very strongly not to.’
‘If I don’t get valium and I kill someone, it’ll be on your conscience.’
‘No it won’t. It is you who will be guilty. I am not responsible for your actions.’
If the man persisted in his threat, I assured him that I should still eat my dinner and sleep soundly even if he carried out his threat. (I appeared firmer than I felt. I had little doubt that if he did commit a murder, not my conscience but the official enquiry afterwards would blame me, because officialdom and professionals are now deemed to be in loco parentis to all those who come under their purview, and therefore responsible for their actions.)
No man did carry out his threat, however; and I knew from experience that if I gave in to their blackmail I would never hear the end of it.
