That’s an important warning, and I’m glad you linked me to the post on ethical inhibitions. It’s easy to be mistaken about when you’re causing harm, and so allowing a buffer in honor of the precautionary principle makes sense. That’s part of why I never mention the names of any of my clients in public and never post any information about any specific client on any public forums—I expect that most of the time, doing so would cause no harm, but it’s important to be careful.
Still, I had the sense when I first read your comment six weeks ago that it’s not a good ethical maxim to “never provide any information (even in the mathematical/Bayesian sense of “information”) to anyone who doesn’t have an immediate need to know it.”
I think I’ve finally put my finger on what was bothering me: in order to provide the best possible service to my clients, I need to make use of my social and emotional support structure. If I carried all of the burdens of my work solely on my own shoulders, letting all of my client’s problems bounce around solely in my head, I’d go a little crazier than I already am, and I’d provide worse service. My clients would suffer from my peculiar errors of viewpoint. In theory, I can discuss my clients with my boss or with my assistants, but both of those relationships are too charged with competition to serve as an effective emotional safety valve—I don’t really want to rely on my boss for a dose of perspective; I’m too busy signalling to my boss that I’m competent.
I think this is probably generally applicable—I want my doctors to have a chance to chat about me (without using my real name) in the break room or with their poker buddies, so that they can be as stable and relaxed as possible about giving me the best possible treatment. Same thing with my accountant—I’m much more concerned that my accountant is going to forget to apply for a legal tax exemption that’ll net me thousands of dollars than I am that my accountant is going to leak details about me to his friend who, unbeknownst to the accountant, is friends with the husband of an IRS agent who will then decide to give me an unfriendly audit. Sure, it’s important to me that my medical and financial details stay reasonably private, but I’m willing to trade a small amount of privacy for a moderate increase in professional competence.
Do you feel differently? I suspect that some of the people who make bold, confident assertions about how “nobody should ever disclose any private information under any circumstances” are simply signalling their loyalty and discretion, rather than literally describing their preferred policies or honestly describing their intended behavior. Perhaps I’m just falling prey to the Typical Mind fallacy, though.
That’s an important warning, and I’m glad you linked me to the post on ethical inhibitions. It’s easy to be mistaken about when you’re causing harm, and so allowing a buffer in honor of the precautionary principle makes sense. That’s part of why I never mention the names of any of my clients in public and never post any information about any specific client on any public forums—I expect that most of the time, doing so would cause no harm, but it’s important to be careful.
Still, I had the sense when I first read your comment six weeks ago that it’s not a good ethical maxim to “never provide any information (even in the mathematical/Bayesian sense of “information”) to anyone who doesn’t have an immediate need to know it.”
I think I’ve finally put my finger on what was bothering me: in order to provide the best possible service to my clients, I need to make use of my social and emotional support structure. If I carried all of the burdens of my work solely on my own shoulders, letting all of my client’s problems bounce around solely in my head, I’d go a little crazier than I already am, and I’d provide worse service. My clients would suffer from my peculiar errors of viewpoint. In theory, I can discuss my clients with my boss or with my assistants, but both of those relationships are too charged with competition to serve as an effective emotional safety valve—I don’t really want to rely on my boss for a dose of perspective; I’m too busy signalling to my boss that I’m competent.
I think this is probably generally applicable—I want my doctors to have a chance to chat about me (without using my real name) in the break room or with their poker buddies, so that they can be as stable and relaxed as possible about giving me the best possible treatment. Same thing with my accountant—I’m much more concerned that my accountant is going to forget to apply for a legal tax exemption that’ll net me thousands of dollars than I am that my accountant is going to leak details about me to his friend who, unbeknownst to the accountant, is friends with the husband of an IRS agent who will then decide to give me an unfriendly audit. Sure, it’s important to me that my medical and financial details stay reasonably private, but I’m willing to trade a small amount of privacy for a moderate increase in professional competence.
Do you feel differently? I suspect that some of the people who make bold, confident assertions about how “nobody should ever disclose any private information under any circumstances” are simply signalling their loyalty and discretion, rather than literally describing their preferred policies or honestly describing their intended behavior. Perhaps I’m just falling prey to the Typical Mind fallacy, though.