Speaking Out

BY RACHEL SCHNELLER

In May 2019, I was medically evacuated from post and spent a week in a mental hospital in Northern Virginia, diagnosed with retriggered post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and severe depression. I spent another month in outpatient treatment before receiving a medical curtailment. What led to this unfortunate outcome?

I had toughed out the previous two years in a toxic work environment under hostile leadership, trying to manage my worsening PTSD symptoms through frequent trips to my post’s health unit for medication and self-care regimens like meditation and yoga—treatments that had helped me recover from my initial bout of PTSD following a tour in Iraq in 2005-2006.

Weeks before the medevac, with no warning or preparation, my supervisor emailed me a career-ending statement for my employee evaluation report (EER) that bore no resemblance to my understanding of my performance and included fabricated material. Bewildered, I reached out to trusted colleagues for advice and tried to negotiate with my supervisor, but to no avail. That individual refused to change a word.

My reviewing officer avoided me and several days later—again with no discussion or preparation—emailed me an EER review statement that validated my rater’s negative assessment of my performance.

This triggered my mental and emotional collapse. The following day, I sought treatment from the regional medical psychiatrist, who authorized an immediate evacuation from post. I flew out that same night.

A few hours before my flight, my reviewing officer called me at home as I lay miserable in bed, my husband and young son attempting to comfort me. Word had finally reached our D.C.-based office director of my plight, and he had apparently intervened. The reviewer apologized to me over the phone and pledged to revise their draft assessment.

The reviewer offered a confusing explanation of how they had handled my EER—something about not knowing how to deal with the professional risk associated with social media—which made no sense to me at the time. I burst into tears. I was so demoralized and traumatized by this point I knew I required medical intervention.

In retrospect, there were a number of missed opportunities to correct course and avoid a lawsuit, which would have been to the benefit of all involved, including the American people.

In September 2021, after two agonizing and expensive years of the equal employment opportunity (EEO) process, I reached a legal settlement with the State Department.

My medical evacuation alone cost about $20,000, and my medical curtailment from post likely incurred another $20,000 in forfeited school fees when my son suddenly had to depart post in July. I had retained professional legal representation, fronting more than $40,000 in fees that, ultimately, I recouped.

Then there were the costs not so easily calculated: the number of hours State Department lawyers spent working on my case over the 2019-2021 period.

In addition, my medical curtailment left a yearlong gap at post in a managerial position, undoubtedly taxing those who had to stretch themselves to cover my workload, to the detriment of our foreign policy interests.

Further, I had spent a year in language training in preparation for a three-year position, but the department got only two years’ return on its investment.

This estimated $100,000 price tag—ultimately footed by U.S. taxpayers—would have been even higher if my final settlement had included compensatory damages. In the end, I decided there was no amount of money that could compensate me for what I had endured.

I found my settlement satisfactory—my lawyers even told me they had never seen the department go to such lengths to set things right. I did not ask for any measures to be taken against my former supervisors. I cannot think of a single thing they could do that would make up for the working environment I had endured.

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I do not want to relitigate my case—that is over and done with. However, a few instructive points show how my situation degenerated needlessly. In retrospect, there were a number of missed opportunities to correct course and avoid a lawsuit, which would have been to the benefit of all involved, including the American people.

• My supervisors had somehow gained access to a private Facebook group. They read some anonymous posts on this site and assumed I had written about them. Rather than confront me directly about these posts, they kept their activities secret for months, creating logs of which posts they believed I had made and why they believed my alleged anonymous postings were unfair. These logs did not come to light until the litigation process was underway.

• My direct supervisor apparently was so upset about the anonymous posts that they met with the post EEO counselor and filed an EEO complaint against me, with the knowledge if not the encouragement of their supervisors—which also came to light during litigation.

In one exchange, my supervisor relayed to their reviewer that the EEO office had not agreed to act on the complaint against me but had offered to mediate between all parties. My supervisor turned down the mediation offer.

• While in outpatient treatment, I met with the Office of the Ombuds, explained the state of affairs, and asked for their help. The ombuds agreed to mediate, providing all parties agreed to participate. My supervisors refused to participate.

• My direct supervisor’s hostile behavior toward me was no secret. I had alerted my reviewing officer in October 2019 that my supervisor’s punitive behavior was retriggering my PTSD symptoms. I reported higher up the chain on three occasions to my reviewer’s supervisor that my supervisor was abusive, but that senior officer took no steps to stop the behavior, on one occasion asking, “Can’t you just not let yourself be abused?”

When asked if I had reported the abuse, this same Senior FSO responded in a legal affidavit that nothing I had reported “sounded like abuse” and that my complaints were “taxing.”

• I met with the post EEO counselor the day before my medevac. This counselor later contested that I had begun the EEO process since I had not filed a formal complaint that day. I later discovered this EEO counselor had also handled my supervisor’s EEO complaint against me and was seeking an onward position in our bureau using my supervisor as a reference. That person did not divulge the conflict of interest or recuse themself from my case.

• I met with AFSA, but there was nothing they could do until I had a completed EER as evidence of “harm.” My supervisors did not sign off on my EER until post management finally pushed it through in December 2019, after I had retained outside lawyers. Meanwhile, the EEO process requires action within 45 days.

• I first attempted to go through the State Department’s alternative dispute resolution (ADR) mechanism rather than file a legal suit. However, in November 2019, the department declined my request, stating: “It is S/OCR’s policy to decline cases involving agency decisions of curtailments and medical clearances being revoked.” My only alternative at that point was to file a formal complaint.

In the summer of 2021, the State Department requested use of the ADR to reach a settlement in my case. Would it have been possible to reach an agreement much earlier (and more cheaply) if we had used ADR in 2019?

In the end, I decided there was no amount of money that could compensate me for what I had endured.

The State Department has made progress since my case in many meaningful ways that I hope will prevent further occurrence of cases like mine. I like to think my case helped prompt some of these improvements, but my case alone could not be responsible.

I know others in the department have suffered similarly, because I was not the only State Department employee in inpatient and outpatient treatment. I know because there is a support group for victims of bullying in the State Department with nearly 150 members.

My main recommendation, based on my experience, concerns accountability. I do not mean accountability to the victim—I have been compensated adequately. I mean accountability to U.S. taxpayers: They are the ones who pay the price for the costs that bullying and mismanagement impose on our ability to further national security interests abroad.

Apart from accountability, the department should explicitly state that all EER statements must be truthful and contain no fabricated information, and that willful misrepresentation in an EER will incur strict penalties.

As it is, department regulations only specify that EERs should be fair and accurate, but do not state that willful fabrications and inaccuracies are not acceptable.

The department should consider incorporating feedback from subordinates into the files of anyone in a managerial position, either through the EER process or some other mechanism.

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I share my experience so that other victims know they are not alone and that there is hope. As long as this sort of behavior remains a dirty secret in the State Department, perpetrators will continue to act with impunity. Many of their targets may choose to leave the department altogether, but I hope they remain.

I frequently recall the response I received from a psychiatrist while I was in the hospital, struggling to understand what drove my supervisors to their actions. “Sometimes people choose to do the easy wrong thing instead of the hard right thing.”

I believe that at State the answers lie in making it easier for people to do the right thing and harder to do the wrong thing.

Read More...

• “FS Personnel Evaluation, 1925–1955: A Unique View” by Nicholas J. Willis, The Foreign Service Journal, March 2016
• “Long Past Time to Talk About Trauma—Raising Awareness and Resilience” by Angela R. Dickey, The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2016
• “Why Our Evaluation System Is Broken and What to Do About It” by Virginia Blaser, The Foreign Service Journal, April 2023