Ingrid Betancourt: ‘Work should not be a suffering’ Former Farc hostage has turned her experience into lessons for unhappy executives Read next Lucy Kellaway on ‘One Minute Mentoring’ Ingrid Betancourt in Oxford. The former Colombian presidential candidate was captured and held hostage by Farc for more than six years until her release in 2008 © Charlie Bibby/FT Share on Twitter (opens new window) Share on Facebook (opens new window) Share on LinkedIn (opens new window) Email0 Save 7 HOURS AGO by: Emma Jacobs Ingrid Betancourt is used to dealing with strangers’ reactions. In Oxford, where she lives, they approach her in the street to shake her hand. Occasionally they even hug her. The French-Colombian former politician’s story has become known worldwide. Ms Betancourt was held hostage by Farc, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, in the jungle for six and a half years, before being released in 2008. Since then, it has not always been hugs and handshakes. She has faced criticism — notably in a 2009 book by three fellow hostages, US military contractors, who accused her of demanding special privileges in captivity. While Ms Betancourt is used to dealing with other people’s emotions, she was surprised by a weeping woman who approached her after a talk she gave at a business. This is something she frequently does now, as well as her work on peace and human rights advocacy with non-governmental organisations. “She was crying because she had lost her job. She thought she had been mistreated and she thought it was unfair.” This reaction seems self-absorbed but Ms Betancourt suggests an alternative point of view. “Suffering is suffering.” The woman’s tears gave Ms Betancourt an insight into the emotions swirling around the modern workplace. It has made her evangelical about the need to address employees’ mental health problems. I am here at the Oxford college, where the 55-year-old is researching her PhD in theology, to discuss the talks she gives to businesses and banks. Ingrid Betancourt with her children after she was rescued from Farc rebels by the Colombian military in 2008 © Reuters All manner of speakers — explorers, orchestra conductors and Formula One drivers — are trotted out by speaking agencies for generous sums to address conferences, to give perspectives on teams or working under pressure. These can be inspiring, a break from the main business of the day, or directly relatable to employees’ tasks. But recently Ms Betancourt gave a talk (waiving her fee), predominantly to financiers, at the Arts Club in London on the importance of resilience and wellbeing in the workplace. It was organised by Head Talks, a non-profit organisation that holds events on mental health. It is a topic, she says, that is increasingly in demand from business. I find the idea of Ms Betancourt’s experiences as a hostage providing stressed out executives and employers lessons on managing their mental wellbeing both intriguing and appalling. First, that workplaces are so awful, people relate to being chained up in a jungle. Second, that employees are so self-absorbed they think their own working lives are comparable to Ms Betancourt’s in captivity. Oliver James, psychologist and author of Affluenza, agrees. He hopes that bankers and executives hearing such stories realise “how lucky they are”. Ms Betancourt, elegant in a chic black trouser suit, patiently hears me out. “Work shouldn’t be a suffering,” she says. “It should be something that gives you a place in society, that allows you to feel dignified. That allows you to construct your personality, to be creative, to unleash your potential.” That is far from the day-to-day reality, she adds. “You find that people are well paid, they have good surroundings, but they are unsatisfied, because they don’t feel proud of what they are doing.” Related article A CEO’s primer on how to manage under pressure Business leaders need to find what RSA chief Hester calls the ‘on-off switch’ The light-filled sitting room of her college is a world away from the camps and marches through Colombian jungles. In her book, Even Silence Has an End (published in 2010) she wrote: “Like Alice in Wonderland, I was falling, falling into a bottomless well. This was my black hole. I was being sucked down, dragged down into the bowels of the earth. I was alive only so that I could witness myself dying.” Her stories from captivity are arresting — how could they not be? But occasionally they jar as workplace lessons. In her Head Talks speech, she recounted an epiphany she had while marching through the jungle, desperately ill. The guards had abandoned her because she was slow. She could hear a thunderous sound getting nearer. It turned out to be 60 soldiers in chains, also held by Farc, marching through the jungle. When they saw her, they sneaked a smile, a word or shook her hand as they passed. The effect on her was electrifying — she got to her feet and followed them to the improvised night camp (it was impossible to escape anywhere in the dense forest). It proves, she says, that kindness and compassion can get you back on your feet. “In the work environment we tend to think being compassionate is not on the agenda. But surveys prove that more happiness increases productivity. We are a source of joy or stress for others.” I wonder if addressing businesses and speaking about her captivity is cathartic, and how she feels about turning her most intensely painful and personal experience into a commodity. “My approach is how to make sense of a very difficult experience. It’s rewarding to think that what I went through, and the experience I gained, and the things I learnt, can be useful for people in a very different situation.” It makes her feel that she can transform the experience of being a victim into a survivor. When Ms Betancourt was rescued in a Colombian military operation she found the world had changed. Her two children — 13 and 16 years old when she was taken hostage — had become adults with their own lives to lead. Her marriage collapsed. Writing a book was an important part of processing what had happened to her. The most striking change in the world beyond her personal life was technology. “Before I was abducted, we were beginning to use cell phones. It was a brick. It was heavy.” When she came out of the jungle, communications had become “completely invasive”. There was no gradual acclimatisation for Ms Betancourt. Rather, it was a shock. She had to learn to set boundaries. “It took me a while to understand that I was not obliged to respond every time the phone rang.” She became fascinated by the internet. “I remember finding myself at 4am, browsing all kinds of things. And the next day, I couldn’t function, [I was] so thirsty for knowledge. I wanted to know everything.” She had to discipline herself “because it was becoming crazy”. Perhaps her most significant message for those in the modern workplace, though, is not about resilience. The seemingly unending time in captivity made her assess her former busy working life. “We tend to take for granted that the people we love are just there.” “I was postponing happiness . . . My family was always the most important thing for me, and I thought I was doing everything for them and for my country. And suddenly I realised it was not true, and they had sacrificed a lot.” Her advice to employees is to clarify their priorities. “We really need to make sure to harvest time with the people we love. What you don’t want is, at the end of the day, finding yourself in a horrible situation where you look back and you say, oh my God, I missed the train.” Back-story: Betancourt before captivity
New Brazilian corruption probes and their consequences
Despite a mounting scandal, the government soldiers on
THE latest revelations of wrongdoing in high places struck Brazil with the force of a Netflix release: they are riveting, but so far have left the real world undisturbed. On April 12th Edson Fachin, the supreme-court justice who is overseeing a vast probe into corruption centred on Petrobras, the state-controlled oil company, authorised prosecutors to investigate eight government ministers, 24 senators, 39 deputies in the lower house of congress and three state governors. He sent dozens of cases to lower courts; they will now consider whether to launch new criminal inquiries into nine more state governors and three former presidents. All the big political parties and most front-runners in next year’s presidential election have been tarnished (see chart).
This fresh scourging of the political class comes at an awkward time. Brazil’s worst recession on record has not ended. Michel Temer, who became president last year after the impeachment of his predecessor, Dilma Rousseff, hopes to stabilise the economy by enacting reforms. His approval rating is a dismal 20%; that of his government is ten points lower. Yet the storm of scandal has yet to capsize reforms or sink hopes of an economic recovery. The value of Brazil’s currency, bonds and the index of the main stock exchange weakened after Mr Fachin’s revelations, but only briefly. The extensive new inquiries “had largely been priced in”, says Cláudio Couto, a political scientist at Fundação Getulio Vargas, a university in São Paulo.
One reason for that is that Mr Fachin’s targets are only being investigated, not indicted. He based his decision on statements by 78 former executives of Odebrecht, a big construction firm, who testified as part of plea bargains with prosecutors. One testified that Odebrecht funnelled $3.3bn to politicians between 2006 and 2014, the equivalent of 80% of its net profits over the period. Most of this money came from padded contracts awarded to the company by state-controlled entities, including Petrobras. (Odebrecht has admitted to bribing officials in 11 other Latin American and African countries.)
The testimony disclosed by Mr Fachin, and analysed by Brazilian journalists, reveals how much money the politicians allegedly received, to enrich themselves, their parties or both. Guido Mantega, a former finance minister from Ms Rousseff’s Workers’ Party (PT), reportedly got 93m reais ($30m). Aécio Neves, a senator (and potential presidential candidate) from the Party of Brazilian Social Democracy (PSDB), part of Mr Temer’s coalition, allegedly received 65.5m reais. Everyone on Mr Fachin’s list denies wrongdoing. Odebrecht witnesses claim that Mr Temer himself was present at meetings where illegal campaign donations were discussed, which he denies. He is immune from prosecution for any crime he might have committed before he became president.
Mr Temer is striving to project an air of normality. The disclosures, he says, are “staggering”, but “we have to move ahead”. He has said he will only dismiss cabinet ministers who are formally charged. Although the supreme court has given Mr Fachin extra manpower to deal with the massive caseload, that may take months. The compromised cabinet has some breathing room.
Congress, too, is trying to conduct politics as usual. Most members of Mr Temer’s centrist coalition, including his Party of the Brazilian Democratic Movement (PMDB), see economy-strengthening reforms as the only way to regain credibility with voters. The reforms themselves are not popular. Plans to liberalise labour laws, for example by deregulating working hours, are not a vote-winner. Still less is a proposal to fix the ruinously expensive pension system, Mr Temer’s most important policy. Trade unions linked to the PT, which is as mired in scandal as government parties, have called a general strike against pension reform on April 28th.
Nervous congressmen have forced Mr Temer to compromise. He has agreed to set a lower minimum pension age for women than he had planned (62, rather than 65) and to ease transition rules for men and women. This reduces the prospective savings from pension reform by 170bn reais over ten years. Even so, it should still save the government a substantial 630bn reais over that period. If it goes through, women will retire ten years later than they do now on average. That is probably enough to reassure the central bank, which has been cutting interest rates, mainly in response to lower inflation. Without the prospect of savings on pensions, the central bank might reduce rates more slowly, which would hurt the economy.
Mr Temer is fortunate that voters are feeling cynical rather than fired up. There are no plans to repeat the big anti-corruption protests that helped topple Ms Rousseff last year. Disclosure of Mr Fachin’s list has reassured Brazilians that the dragnet is going ahead without interference.
Any attempt by congress to change that would revive the outrage, warns João Castro Neves of Eurasia Group, a political consultancy. Earlier this year the legislature tried to give its members amnesty for taking undeclared campaign donations, but backed down in the face of popular opposition. The uneasy political calm could also end if congressmen start testifying against one another, or if investigations turn into indictments. Mr Temer has so far kept reforms moving forward and the scandal-plagued government afloat. His job is getting harder all the time.
This fresh scourging of the political class comes at an awkward time. Brazil’s worst recession on record has not ended. Michel Temer, who became president last year after the impeachment of his predecessor, Dilma Rousseff, hopes to stabilise the economy by enacting reforms. His approval rating is a dismal 20%; that of his government is ten points lower. Yet the storm of scandal has yet to capsize reforms or sink hopes of an economic recovery. The value of Brazil’s currency, bonds and the index of the main stock exchange weakened after Mr Fachin’s revelations, but only briefly. The extensive new inquiries “had largely been priced in”, says Cláudio Couto, a political scientist at Fundação Getulio Vargas, a university in São Paulo.
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The testimony disclosed by Mr Fachin, and analysed by Brazilian journalists, reveals how much money the politicians allegedly received, to enrich themselves, their parties or both. Guido Mantega, a former finance minister from Ms Rousseff’s Workers’ Party (PT), reportedly got 93m reais ($30m). Aécio Neves, a senator (and potential presidential candidate) from the Party of Brazilian Social Democracy (PSDB), part of Mr Temer’s coalition, allegedly received 65.5m reais. Everyone on Mr Fachin’s list denies wrongdoing. Odebrecht witnesses claim that Mr Temer himself was present at meetings where illegal campaign donations were discussed, which he denies. He is immune from prosecution for any crime he might have committed before he became president.
Mr Temer is striving to project an air of normality. The disclosures, he says, are “staggering”, but “we have to move ahead”. He has said he will only dismiss cabinet ministers who are formally charged. Although the supreme court has given Mr Fachin extra manpower to deal with the massive caseload, that may take months. The compromised cabinet has some breathing room.
Nervous congressmen have forced Mr Temer to compromise. He has agreed to set a lower minimum pension age for women than he had planned (62, rather than 65) and to ease transition rules for men and women. This reduces the prospective savings from pension reform by 170bn reais over ten years. Even so, it should still save the government a substantial 630bn reais over that period. If it goes through, women will retire ten years later than they do now on average. That is probably enough to reassure the central bank, which has been cutting interest rates, mainly in response to lower inflation. Without the prospect of savings on pensions, the central bank might reduce rates more slowly, which would hurt the economy.
Mr Temer is fortunate that voters are feeling cynical rather than fired up. There are no plans to repeat the big anti-corruption protests that helped topple Ms Rousseff last year. Disclosure of Mr Fachin’s list has reassured Brazilians that the dragnet is going ahead without interference.
Any attempt by congress to change that would revive the outrage, warns João Castro Neves of Eurasia Group, a political consultancy. Earlier this year the legislature tried to give its members amnesty for taking undeclared campaign donations, but backed down in the face of popular opposition. The uneasy political calm could also end if congressmen start testifying against one another, or if investigations turn into indictments. Mr Temer has so far kept reforms moving forward and the scandal-plagued government afloat. His job is getting harder all the time.