‘I saw hundreds of people lined up... waiting to get care, in animal stalls. Animal stalls.’

Wendell Potter, then head of Public Relations for CIGNA, struggled with what he’d seen at a Wise County health care expedition in his home state of Virginia. 

'I mean, there was no privacy... people being treated on gurneys, on rain-soaked pavement...  It was like being hit by lightning... what country am I in? It just didn't seem to be a possibility that I was in the United States.'

Wendell Potter was bound for Hogwarts, unbeknownst to him.

A few weeks later, on a CIGNA jet with leather seats and golden food served to him on gilded plates with golden cutlery, the corporate empire’s shimmering spell was weakened by empirical fact:

'And then I remembered the people that I had seen in Wise County. Undoubtedly, they had no idea that this went on, at the corporate levels of health insurance companies.'

He finally consulted a book of potions...

'President Kennedy's Profiles in Courage.  And in the forward... was a Dante quote... "The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of moral crisis, maintain a neutrality." And when I read that, I said, "Oh, jeez, I-- you know. I'm headed for that hottest place in hell, unless I say something."'

Wendell Potter speaks volumes now, in high places, having quit his job and headed straight to Washington.  He tells of the charm offensive brought to bear on citizens by denizens of our wealthy class.

Even my dear old dad, my Dumbledore, schooled in the WF Buckley conservatism of his day, would likely shudder at the usurping of health care by corporations, hedge funds and lobbyists who fly their government stoolies like captured owls of prey.  Not because my dad is suddenly against free enterprise.  It’s just that he likes people - a lot.  He’s a softy in the opposite way of those who broker no compassion in their treasure quest.

Insider Wendell Potter reveals his truth, for a millisecond, in the maelstrom of health care reform.  But private insurers own the megaphones we call the public airwaves.  They blare their scary scenarios at muggles and wizards alike, pictures of imagined deprivation siphoned into the national bloodstream like the drip drip drip of an IV gone terribly awry.  Or an evil witches’ brew.

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
William Shakespeare, Macbeth

This is not a time for diffidence.  Potter, and for that matter, any one of us with a body and a brain, would do well to listen to Hermione Granger, who counsels us on speaking out.

'It matters because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol for Slytherin house is a serpent.'
Hermione, The Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rawlings

Public domain painting Viktor Vasnetsov The Flying Carpet