Risk Management in Social Work: Preventing Professional Malpractice, Liability, and Disciplinary Action

PREFACE

LET’S START WITH THE GOOD NEWS: Relatively few social workers are named as defendants in lawsuits or respondents in licensing board complaints. The vast majority of social workers practice ethically and competently, adhering to widely embraced standards of ethics and social work practice designed to protect clients.

And then there’s the bad news: Some social workers—a distinct minority, to be sure—practice social work outside established standards, thus posing significant risk to clients and to their own careers. These social workers are much more likely to have lawsuits and licensing board complaints filed against them. And even the most conscientious, principled, earnest, and ethical social workers run the risk, however small, that disgruntled clients will file complaints against them, even when no evidence of wrongdoing exists.

That there is a need for this book is unfortunate. After all, what social worker wants to spend time reading and thinking about being sued or being named in a licensing board complaint? Sadly such formal complaints are a fact of modern life, and the costs are significant. I am not referring only to the financial cost, mind you. I am also referring to the emotional cost. Even when a social worker has done nothing wrong, being named in a lawsuit or licensing board complaint is psychologically taxing. Moreover the social worker will need to consult (and pay) a lawyer, answer interrogatories, produce documents, attend depositions and hearings, and repair or preserve her reputation. Under the best of circumstances this arduous process is a miserable experience. Under the worst of circumstances it can be devastating.

Unfortunately social workers get little training to help them avoid malpractice claims and licensing board complaints. Professional education typically includes little on the subject of what has come to be known in the trade as risk management. Although more and more social workers are learning about professional ethics, professional and continuing education rarely includes a systematic introduction to risk management and ways to prevent formal complaints. My hope is that this book will help remedy the situation.

Since the early 1980s I have had the privilege of speaking to thousands of social workers throughout the United States, Canada, Europe, and Asia about professional ethics. When I started to receive invitations to deliver lectures and workshops on the topic, my focus was primarily on ethical issues in social work and the nature of ethical decision making when confronted with difficult dilemmas.

Over time, however, I noticed a distinct trend. During conference breaks and after my presentations I began to get more and more questions that started along the lines of I was wondering if I can get sued for ______? or Can I get in trouble with my licensing board if I ______? (Fill in the blanks.) It did not take me long to figure out that while I was preoccupied with perplexing and conceptually complex philosophical issues related to social work ethics, many in my audiences were understandably consumed with more pragmatic concerns about potential lawsuits and other complaints. This should not have been much of a surprise because many ethical issues that I was presenting broached complicated legal questions as well.

What this meant, of course, was that I found myself learning more and more about the malpractice and licensing board risks associated with social work practice. Over the years I have collected scores of case examples from conference participants, colleagues, and more than one hundred court and licensing board cases in which I have served as an expert witness and consultant.

It is sad, in a way, that the profession has generated so much concern about risk management. It distracts from the principal mission of social work, and the concern often is out of proportion to the statistical risk of being named in a lawsuit or licensing board complaint. From my point of view, however, this also represents an important opportunity to educate social workers about good practice and good ethics, which ultimately prevent lawsuits and licensing board complaints. My hope is that this book will provide social workers with an in-depth and practical guide to help them recognize, prevent, and cope with risks they encounter in their work.

The book is designed to assist social workers involved in direct practice (especially clinical work with individuals, couples, families, and small groups) and in social work supervision, management, and administration. After I introduce the concepts of negligence, malpractice, liability, and risk management (chapter 1), I turn to a series of discrete topics. These include problems related to privacy and confidentiality (chapter 2), improper treatment and delivery of services (chapter 3), impaired practitioners (chapter 4), supervision (chapter 5), consultation and referral (chapter 6), fraud and deception (chapter 7), and termination of service (chapter 8). I conclude the book with a series of practical suggestions for social workers who are named as defendants in lawsuits and licensing board complaints, and some observations about the role of good practice and good ethics in managing and reducing risk (chapter 9).

This book contains considerable case material. I drew the cases from several sources, including legal texts, law reporters (published summaries of legal cases), court documents, newspaper accounts, and my own involvement in a wide variety of court and licensing board cases. Some case illustrations come from publications that provide periodic updates of litigated cases. I found other case examples in textbooks and original court opinions published in various state, federal, and regional reporters. Most cases that I cite are a matter of public record; in some instances I could not provide dates for the decisions because I found descriptions of these cases only in secondary sources and the cases themselves were not published. In several instances I report case-related details in disguised form to protect the privacy of the parties involved.

It is important to note that I am not an attorney, and I am not offering legal advice in this book. Although this book includes information and commentary about legal concepts and cases, readers who believe they need or want legal advice should consult an attorney with expertise in professional malpractice and risk management.

I have noticed that when I speak to social workers about this subject, their anxiety tends to increase. Contemplating being named in a lawsuit or licensing board complaint is not exactly fun. What I have found, however, is that whatever anxiety this topic produces can stimulate determined efforts to enhance the quality of social work practice. Perhaps the most effective way for social workers to protect themselves from formal complaints is to offer competent and ethical service to clients. Sometimes anxiety can serve a useful purpose by inspiring constructive action. As the nineteenth-century Scottish writer Thomas Carlyle said, Talk that does not end in any kind of action is better suppressed altogether.

Professional Risk Management

AN OVERVIEW

IMAGINE THAT YOU ARE A social worker employed at a community mental health center. For three months you have been counseling a twenty-six-year-old man who was referred to you by the staff of a local psychiatric hospital, following the young man’s inpatient treatment for depression.

Your client has made considerable progress. He is holding down a job for the first time in five years, is living independently in his own apartment, and is romantically involved with a young woman who is also a client at the mental health center; the couple met while participating in group therapy. Your client reports that he is happier than ever.

Your telephone rings one afternoon, and your client says, in a fearful voice, that he needs to see you as quickly as possible. He explains that he does not want to discuss the matter over the telephone, and you agree to meet him early the following morning.

Your client arrives on time. His affect is flat, and he seems unusually distressed. After you usher him into your office, your client explains that his physician has just informed him that he has tested positive for HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. He explains that he is shocked by the diagnosis and needs help dealing with the terrible news.

Your client is convinced that his lover infected him with HIV. Your client is furious and makes a number of disparaging comments about her. After several minutes of this ranting, your client erupts and says, "She’s going to pay for this. She’s really going to pay for this." Your client then storms out of your office, leaving you to wonder whether he intends to harm his lover imminently.

You pause to collect your thoughts: To what extent do you have an obligation to protect the client’s lover, who is also a client at your agency, from harm? Did your client forfeit his right to confidentiality by threatening his lover? Are you permitted to disclose confidential information about the client without his consent to protect the lover, and, if so, how much information can you disclose and to whom should you disclose this information? What specific ethical standards and laws govern the disclosure of this confidential information? What steps do you need to take to make a sound decision and minimize risk to everyone involved?

All contemporary social workers need to be acquainted with the nature of risk management, specifically the ways in which their decisions and actions can expose them to lawsuits and licensing board complaints, in addition to exposing clients and others to harm. What kinds of claims are clients filing against social workers? With what frequency? What constitutes negligence and malpractice? How can social workers avoid liability and licensing board complaints? These are the principal questions that will concern us.

PROFESSIONAL MALPRACTICE AND LIABILITY

Risk management is a broad term that refers to efforts to protect clients, practitioners, and employers (Carroll 2011). Risk management includes the prevention of lawsuits and licensing board complaints. Lawsuits allege professional malpractice; licensing board complaints allege violation of standards of practice set forth in licensing laws and regulations. Lawsuits can result in monetary judgments against social workers; licensing board complaints can result in fines, revocation or suspension of a professional license, probation, mandated supervision and continuing education, reprimand, or censure.

Professional malpractice is generally considered a form of negligence. The concept applies to professionals who are required to perform in a manner consistent with the legal concept of the standard of care in the profession, that is, the way an ordinary, reasonable, and prudent professional would act under the same or similar circumstances (Austin, Moline, and Williams 1990; Barker and Branson 2000; Bernstein and Hartsell 2004; Cohen and Mariano 1982; Meyer, Landis, and Hays 1988; Schutz 1982). Malpractice in social work usually is the result of a practitioner’s active violation of a client’s rights (in legal terms, acts of commission, misfeasance, or malfeasance) or a practitioner’s failure to perform certain duties (acts of omission or nonfeasance).

Some malpractice and liability claims result from genuine mistakes or inadvertent breaches of confidentiality on the part of social workers (a social worker sends an e-mail message containing confidential information to the wrong recipient, or a passenger in an elevator overhears a social worker talking with a colleague about confidential aspects of a case); other claims arise from a deliberate decision to risk a claim (a social worker decides to divulge confidential information about a client in order to protect a third party from harm). A social worker’s unethical behavior or misconduct (sexual contact with a client or embezzling a client’s money) also triggers claims.

In general malpractice occurs when evidence exists that

1.    At the time of the alleged malpractice, the practitioner had a legal duty to the client (as in the opening example concerning the obligation to keep confidential information shared by a client).

2.    The practitioner was derelict in that duty, either through an omission or through an action taken by the practitioner (divulging confidential information to the client’s lover without the client’s consent).

3.    The client suffered some harm or injury (the client alleges that he suffered emotional distress and required additional psychiatric care after the unauthorized disclosure, that he lost time and wages at work, and that he was deprived of his lover’s affection and companionship).

4.    The professional’s dereliction of duty was the direct and proximate cause of the harm or injury (the client’s injuries were the result of the social worker’s unauthorized disclosure of confidential information).

In contrast in making their decisions licensing boards need not require evidence that social workers’ actions (commission) or inactions (omission) caused harm. Rather social workers can be sanctioned based simply on evidence that their conduct violated standards contained in licensing statutes and regulations.

KEY CONCEPTS IN RISK MANAGEMENT

Complaints filed against social workers fall into two broad groups (Reamer 2001a, 2002, 2013a). The first includes claims that allege that social workers carried out their duties improperly or in a fashion inconsistent with the profession’s standard of care (so-called acts of commission or misfeasance/malfeasance). Examples include flawed treatment of a client (incorrect treatment), sexual impropriety or other boundary violation, breach of confidentiality or privacy, improper referral to another service provider, defamation of a client’s character (as a result of slander or libel), breach of contract for services, improper civil commitment of a client (false imprisonment/arrest), wrongful removal of a child from a home (loss of child custody), assault and battery, improper termination of service (abandonment), improper licensing of staff, and improper peer review.

The distinction between misfeasance and malfeasance is an important one. Misfeasance is ordinarily defined as the commission of a proper act in a wrongful or injurious manner or the improper performance of an act that might have been performed lawfully. Examples include flawed informed consent procedures or inadvertent disclosure of confidential information. Malfeasance is ordinarily defined as the commission of a wrongful or unlawful act. Examples include embezzlement of a client’s money, sexual contact with a minor client, and violation of a client’s civil rights (Bernstein and Hartsell 2004; Bullis 1995; Gifis 2010).

The second broad category includes claims that allege that social workers failed to carry out a duty that they are ordinarily expected to carry out in accordance with the profession’s standard of care (so-called acts of omission or nonfeasance). Examples include failure to conduct a proper biopsychosocial assessment, failure to prevent a client’s suicide, failure to supervise a client properly, failure to protect third parties from harm, failure to treat a client successfully or at all (sometimes known as failure to cure—poor results), and failure to refer a client for consultation for specialized treatment. In subsequent chapters I shall explain more fully the specific allegations contained under these broad headings.

Of course, not all claims have merit. Some are frivolous or lack evidence of professional malpractice or misconduct. However, many claims do have merit or are settled out of court (or, in the case of licensing board complaints, settled with consent agreements) in order to minimize loss and legal expenses. In either case the result may be costly.

As I noted earlier, malpractice is a form of negligence that occurs when a practitioner acts in a manner inconsistent with the profession’s standard of care—the way an ordinary, reasonable, and prudent professional would act under the same or similar circumstances. Suits that allege malpractice are civil suits (in contrast to criminal proceedings). Ordinarily civil suits are based on tort or contract law, with plaintiffs (the individuals bringing the suit) seeking some form of redress for injuries that they claim to have incurred (Bernstein and Hartsell 2004; Hogan 1979). These injuries may be economic (lost wages or the cost involved in seeking psychiatric care), physical (resulting from a suicide attempt or a practitioner’s attempt to restrain an impaired client), or emotional (depression or anxiety brought about by the inappropriate disclosure of confidential information). Although this allegation is much less common, a plaintiff may also allege denial of constitutional rights (individuals hospitalized against their wishes may allege abridgement of their rights to liberty and due process).

As in criminal trials, defendants in civil suits are presumed blameless until proved otherwise. In ordinary civil suits the standard of proof required to find defendants liable for their actions is preponderance of the evidence. This is in contrast to the stricter standard of beyond a reasonable doubt used in criminal proceedings. In the exceptional civil case (such as a contract between family members to pay for services), the court may expect clear and convincing evidence, a standard of proof that is greater than preponderance of the evidence but less than for beyond a reasonable doubt (Gifis 2010).

In principle tort law—which entails rules allowing injured parties to seek compensation through the courts from those responsible for the harm—performs three important functions in society. First, it deters behavior that causes injuries, in that it exacts a price for injuring another party. Second, tort law provides opportunity for retribution against those responsible for the injury. Finally, tort law provides a mechanism for compensating the injured party (Antler 1987; B. Bernstein 1981; Bernstein and Hartsell 2004; Edwards, Edwards, and Wells 2012; Litan, Swire, and Winston 1988).

Most legal actions against social workers involve tort law, or law involving private or civil wrongs or injuries resulting from a breach of a legal duty (as opposed to contract or criminal law). Torts may be unintentional (negligent) or intentional. Unintentional torts, which include the various forms of negligence and malpractice discussed elsewhere in this book, concern allegations that the social worker’s performance fell below the standard of care for the profession. Intentional torts—such as defamation of character or assault and battery—do not require evidence of negligence.

Most tort claims against social workers allege some form of malpractice (unintentional torts). The malpractice suit has its origins in early English common law. In fact mention of physicians’ professional liability dates to the thirteenth century (Hogan 1979). Since then a variety of landmark court cases have clarified the nature of malpractice. In a classic eighteenth-century case involving medical malpractice, for instance, the King’s Bench stated in Slater v. Baker and Stapleton (1767), He who acts rashly acts ignorantly; and although the defendants in general may be as skillful in their respective professions as any two gentlemen in England, yet the Court cannot help saying that in this particular case they have acted ignorantly and unskillfully, contrary to the known rule and usage of surgeons (Hogan 1979:8).

The first malpractice case on record in the United States was Cross v. Guthry in 1794. In this case a physician was found liable in a negligence case related to surgery performed on a woman who later died (Hogan 1979).

THE ELEMENTS OF MALPRACTICE AND LIABILITY

A malpractice claim must meet four conditions to be successful in court. These include evidence that the practitioner owed a duty to the injured party, the practitioner was derelict in that duty, the plaintiff suffered some sort of harm or injury, and the injury was the direct and proximate result of the breach of that duty.

The first element—evidence that the practitioner had a legal duty to the injured party—is often the easiest to satisfy. In the example I presented at the beginning of this chapter, for instance, the social worker employed at the mental health center unquestionably had a legal duty to the client. The duty was established when the client sought and obtained a service from the formally trained social worker, who provided that service in the context of a professional agency.

Determining whether the practitioner was somehow derelict in that duty typically is much more complex. Here questions ordinarily arise that relate to the prevailing standard of care in the profession. The standard of care requires the practitioner to do what a reasonable person of ordinary prudence would do in the practitioner’s place (Edwards, Edwards, and Wells 2012; Gifis 2010:460; Woody 1997).

For many years courts defined standard of care by comparing a practitioner’s actions with those of similarly trained professionals in the same community—what is generally known as the locality rule. The assumption here was that levels of expertise and training varied from community to community, as a function of local training programs and access to technology and treatment techniques. One practical consequence of the locality rule was that expert witnesses in a malpractice case usually came from the local community.

Over time, however, many jurisdictions have overturned the locality rule, either by judicial decision or legislation (Edwards, Edwards, and Wells 2012; Schutz 1982:4). The rationale has been that changes in modern communication (especially the Internet), transportation, and education have provided practitioners with much greater access to updated information about developments in their profession. Consequently courts now typically permit out-of-state expert witnesses to testify in malpractice cases. That is, the standard of care tends to be based on national, rather than local, norms in a profession.

A plaintiff may find it exceedingly difficult to demonstrate that a social worker behaved in a manner inconsistent with the standard of care. Some departures from the standard of care are relatively easy to show, of course. A social worker who discloses confidential information about a client to a client’s neighbor, in casual conversation and without the client’s permission, has clearly departed from the profession’s standard of care. A social worker in a residential setting who neglects to record in case notes a client’s obvious suicidal symptoms has clearly departed from the standard of care. These are the easy cases.

Far more common, however, are those cases in which reasonable people may disagree about the appropriateness of the practitioner’s actions, that is, whether they in fact constituted a departure from the standard of care. The social worker in the opening example, for instance, might argue that disclosing confidential information was essential to protect the client’s lover from potential harm. This social worker might argue that the benefit of the disclosure, to which the client did not consent, outweighed the breach of the client’s right to privacy.

Other social workers might find such an argument unpersuasive. They might argue that the social worker had an obligation to respect the client’s right to confidentiality and that, without his explicit consent, disclosure to a third party was unacceptable and constituted a departure from the profession’s standard of care.

Further, it is not hard to imagine that expert witnesses drawn from the social work profession might disagree with one another. A jury hearing this case might have to deal with thoughtful, experienced experts who offer diametrically opposite views about the social worker’s actions. One might support the social worker’s claim to a duty to protect a third party from serious harm and say that a breach of confidentiality under such circumstances is justifiable. Another expert witness might contend that the social worker’s disclosure constituted a clear violation of professional ethics, particularly because the client never uttered an actual threat against his lover.

Courts recognize that professionals subscribe to various, sometimes competing, schools of thought. The idea that different schools of thought are permissible emerged in the nineteenth century, when physicians subscribed to different philosophies of practice, or schools, each with its own assumptions, principal concepts, and standards. Rather than try to determine which school of thought is most appropriate, courts have generally acknowledged the legitimacy of different schools, so long as they are supported by a respectable minority of the profession (Hogan 1979:9). When it is difficult to determine whether a respectable minority of a profession endorses a particular school of thought, a judge is likely to explore whether a professional association, relevant standards of practice, and ethical guidelines exist.

Thus practitioners are judged according to the principles and doctrine endorsed by the school of thought to which they subscribe (Force v. Gregory [1893]; Nelson v. Dahl [1928]). As Slovenko notes with respect to psychotherapy,

The courts tend not to pass judgment on the appropriate therapy or the efficacy of different forms of treatment (except sterilization, electroshock, and psychosurgery), a reflection of Justice Cardozo’s observation that the law treats medicine with diffidence and respect. Thus, the court has refused to consider which of two equally reputable methods of psychiatric treatment—psychoanalysis as against a physiological approach—would prove most efficacious in a particular case. In Tribby v. Cameron, for example, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia said: We do not suggest that the court should or can decide what particular treatment this patient requires. The court’s function here resembles ours when we review agency action. We do not decide whether one agency has made the best decision, but only make sure it has made a permissible and reasonable decision in view of the relevant information and within a broad range of discretion.

(1978:61–62)

This is a profoundly important observation, in that it suggests that reasonable minds may differ with regard to the most appropriate intervention or course of action. What matters is whether a social worker’s conclusion in particular circumstances was a permissible and reasonable decision in light of the relevant information, recognizing that some colleagues may have reached a different conclusion.

Note that if social workers present themselves as specialists within the social work profession—specializing in, for example, treatment of depression, marital conflict, eating disorders, substance abuse, or posttraumatic stress disorder—they will be held to the higher standards of a specialist, even if the social worker’s claim of expertise is a misrepresentation (Edwards, Edwards, and Wells 2012; Schutz 1982:4).

Ordinarily the plaintiff has the burden of producing the evidence in a negligence case. However, in some cases the plaintiff introduces the doctrine of res ipsa loquitur (the thing speaks for itself) to shift the burden of proof to the defendant. Under res ipsa loquitur the plaintiff argues that the negligence is so self-evident that any reasonable person can see it (Edwards, Edwards, and Wells 2012; Schutz 1982:4–5). Imagine, for example, a suit filed on behalf of a child who was injured by an abusive foster parent; the suit proffers evidence that the social service agency placed the child in the foster home without screening the foster parents, who had a known record of abuse.

The 1865 British case of Scott v. London and St. Katherine Docks Co. (Hogan 1979:9–10) established the doctrine of res ipsa loquitur. Several sacks of sugar fell out of a warehouse window and hit an English customs officer on the head. The judges concluded that sacks of sugar do not fall out of second-story windows and hit pedestrians unless negligence is involved (Hogan 1979:318).

Courts require that suits based on the doctrine of res ipsa loquitur must meet three criteria: the injury sustained does not ordinarily occur in the absence of negligence; elements within the exclusive control of the defendant must have caused the injury; and the injury must not have been the result of any voluntary action or contribution on the plaintiff ‘s part (although states that recognize the concept of comparative negligence, described later, may dispose of the third criterion and apportion liability according to the percentage contributed by the plaintiff and defendant). The procedural effect of successfully invoking the doctrine of res ipsa loquitur is to shift the burden of producing the evidence, which normally belongs to the plaintiff, to the defendant, who must then introduce evidence to refute the presumption of negligence (Gifis 2010).

Demonstrating the third element—that the client suffered some harm or injury—can also be difficult in social work. Unlike medicine, for example, where injuries resulting from malpractice are sometimes easy to document (when a fracture is set improperly and evidence of this appears on an X-ray or a physician mistakenly operates on the wrong body part or prescribes a clearly excessive dose of medication), in social work the injuries alleged are often difficult to document empirically. In many instances plaintiffs claim that they have experienced some form of emotional injury or harm, as opposed to some form of physical injury. In these cases the plaintiff may have some difficulty substantiating the injury. Compelling expert testimony may be required in order to present a strong case.

This suggests of course that a plaintiff can find it difficult to satisfy the fourth element—that the social worker’s dereliction of duty was the direct and proximate cause of the harm or injury. Even plaintiffs who can document that they sustained some sort of injury—emotional distress or depression, physical harm—may have difficulty demonstrating that the social worker’s alleged dereliction of duty was the direct and proximate cause of the injury (Edwards, Edwards, and Wells 2012; Slovenko 1978:61–63). For example, strong evidence may exist that a client manifested symptoms of depression after a social worker inadvertently released confidential information without the client’s permission. The social worker’s attorney might argue, however, that this client had a long-standing history of depression and that a variety of other stressful events in the client’s life at the time of the inadvertent disclosure may account for the depression.

As Rothblatt and Leroy observe in relation to demonstrating the causal connection between a psychiatrist’s breach of a duty and the injury of emotional harm:

Besides proving that the psychiatrist has breached the requisite standard of care in some specific detail, the plaintiff must also demonstrate causation and damage. Because the natural pathological development and prognosis of mental disease is not well known, it is frequently difficult to state to a reasonable degree of medical certainty whether the application or omission of a particular procedure at a specified time caused mental injury to the patient. Thus, it is often difficult for the plaintiff to prove the element of causation.

The task is simplified, however, if the alleged negligence in some manner caused or encouraged the patient to sustain or inflict tangible physical injuries upon himself or others. Indeed, this characteristic is typical of almost every successful suit. In this situation, proof of the injuries in addition to proof that ordinary prudent therapeutic techniques would have prevented the damage may sustain the burden of proof.

The plaintiff who complains of exclusively mental injuries may also have a difficult time proving the element of damages. Not only are his allegations intangible and difficult to demonstrate to the judge and jury, but they also tend to be somewhat speculative because of the state of knowledge about mental illness. Even where improper procedures have been used to institutionalize a person in need of mental care, the courts may absolve physicians from liability by finding that the patient was not injured by receiving the treatment he needed.

(1973:264, quoted in R. Cohen 1979:49–50)

Consider the opening example. Assume for the moment that the client sues you and your agency, alleging that you violated his right to confidentiality. Through his attorney your client (now presumably your former client) claims that you had a duty to respect his right to privacy and breached this duty by disclosing to his lover details about comments made by the client in a confidential counseling session. In particular your former client asserts that you violated standard 1.07(c) in the National Association of Social Workers’ Code of Ethics, which states that social workers should protect the confidentiality of all information obtained in the course of professional service.¹

In addition your former client claims that, as a result of your disclosure of confidential information about him, he suffered significant harm. Specifically he alleges that he suffered serious emotional distress and symptoms of depression and anxiety. He spells out how he never intended to harm his lover, you misinterpreted his comments, his lover fled the relationship following your disclosure, and he had to seek psychiatric help at considerable expense as a result. Finally, your former client claims that he lost time at work and wages as a result of this emotional injury.

You can imagine how controversial your former client’s claims would be. In his mind, perhaps, is a clear, direct, and unambiguous connection between your alleged violation of his right to privacy and the emotional injury that he claims to have suffered. From your point of view serious questions can be raised about this connection. In your defense your attorney may argue that your former client has a history of depression and anxiety symptoms and that he has missed work in the past as a result of his emotional difficulties. Further, at the time of your disclosure to the lover of your former client—which you do not deny—your former client also complained of significant stress in his life because of conflict with his supervisor at work and financial problems. Hence your attorney might argue that your former client cannot demonstrate conclusively that disclosure of the information was the direct cause of his subsequent symptoms of depression and anxiety, missed work, or lost wages. A number of other factors could account for these difficulties.

Your lawyer also might question whether your former client’s claims of injury are valid. Although missed days of work and lost wages are easy to document—recognizing that the cause may be uncertain—claims of emotional injury can be difficult to substantiate, because emotional injuries do not show up on X-rays or laboratory tests. Evidence often takes the form of self-report and evaluations conducted by mental health professionals. As social workers know quite well, even seasoned practitioners may disagree about the validity of evidence presented to substantiate claims of emotional injury.

In many cases involving liability risks, social workers are vulnerable to a lawsuit no matter what course of action they take. In the case example, for instance, the social worker might be sued for disclosing confidential information without the client’s permission. A social worker also could be sued for failure to disclose confidential information without a client’s permission (here the distinction between acts of commission and acts of omission is clearly relevant). Imagine that you decide to honor your client’s request for privacy. Perhaps you concluded that your client’s comments did not pose a serious threat of harm to his lover. Moreover you do not believe that violating your client’s right to privacy without his permission would be ethical.

Shortly thereafter your client gets involved in a vicious argument with his lover, brings up the HIV infection, accuses his lover of being unfaithful and deceptive, and stabs her. Your client’s lover knows that he was in counseling with you and has reason to believe you were aware of his threatening comments. The lover is so distressed and feels so betrayed that she consults an attorney, who sues you, alleging that you were obligated to take steps to protect your client’s lover. Specifically her attorney argues that you violated standard 1.07(c) of the NASW Code of Ethics: The general expectation that social workers will keep information confidential does not apply when disclosure is necessary to prevent serious, foreseeable, and imminent harm to a client or other identifiable person. The attorney claims that the risk to her client’s safety clearly constituted a compelling professional reason to violate confidentiality and that you were remiss in not taking steps to protect her.

PROCESS VERSUS OUTCOME AND THE STANDARD OF CARE

Some malpractice cases in social work are relatively clear cut. A social worker in a residential setting who simply forgot to enter into the record that a client displayed evidence of suicidal ideation may clearly be liable if staffers on the next shift, unaware of the suicide risk, consequently failed to monitor the resident closely, and the client was injured seriously in an actual suicide attempt. Similarly a social worker in private practice who neglects to discuss informed consent with a client, fails to have the client sign a consent form, and then discloses diagnostic information to the client’s employer clearly may be liable if the employer then fires the client. In these instances malpractice and negligence may be relatively easy to establish.

In general social workers will agree that a practitioner should never strike a client physically (except perhaps in extreme cases requiring self-defense when a client is out of control) and that a practitioner should always obtain informed consent from a client before disclosing confidential information (except in rare cases involving genuine emergencies). The opening case example, however, illustrates a common phenomenon—reasonable practitioners disagree about what the social worker should have done and whether those actions departed from the standard of care in the profession. Some social workers might argue, for example, that you were ethically obligated to take steps to protect your client’s lover from harm and that this might include disclosing confidential information about his threats. They probably would cite the well-known case of Tarasoff v. Regents (1974, 1976), discussed more fully later in this book, to support their argument.

Other social workers might argue with equal force that you had an obligation to respect your client’s right to privacy, that you did not have sufficiently compelling evidence to warrant disclosure of confidential information against his wishes, and that disclosure without the client’s consent would violate state law. Thoughtful, experienced social workers have in fact presented such conflicting arguments about this very set of circumstances (Reamer 1991a, 1991b, 2013a).

What this suggests is that in many liability cases a judge or jury can find it quite difficult to determine what, exactly, constitutes the standard of care in the profession with regard to a social worker’s actual decision and actions. The same holds for licensing board cases, where board members may have difficulty reaching consensus. Attorneys and expert witnesses often present strong arguments in conflicting directions.

What can happen, however—and this is a remarkably important point—is that debate about the standard of care may shift away from the social worker’s actual decision and actions related to the substantive issue at hand or the outcome of the decision (in this instance whether the social worker should have divulged confidential information to the client’s lover against the client’s wishes) and toward the process and procedures that the social worker followed in order to make the decision. That is, the line of questioning may focus instead on the steps that the social worker took (or did not take) to make a sound decision.

In my view the procedural standard of care—the steps an ordinary, reasonable, and prudent social worker should take in order to make a sound decision in complex circumstances that may lead reasonable social workers to reach different conclusions—includes seven key elements, which I will explore in detail throughout the book:

1.    Consult colleagues. Social workers who face difficult or complicated decisions should consult colleagues who have specialized knowledge or expertise related to the issues at hand. Social workers in private or independent practice should participate in peer consultation groups. Social workers employed in settings that have ethics committees (committees that provide staff with a forum for consultation on difficult cases) should take advantage of this form of consultation when they face complicated ethical issues (Reamer 1987b, 2013a). Moreover social workers who are sued can help demonstrate their competent decision-making skills by showing that they sought consultation.

2.    Obtain appropriate supervision. Social workers who have access to a supervisor should take full advantage of this opportunity. Supervisors may be able to help social workers navigate complicated circumstances. And social workers who are sued can help demonstrate their competent decision-making skills by showing that they sought supervision.

3.    Review relevant ethical standards. It is vitally important that social workers become familiar