THE MARRIED COUPLE came into my office upset.  He was about fifty years old and looked like somebody had switched his head with a skeleton’s skull. She was pretty and younger, but her eyes were two black tunnels drilled into the side of a German mountain. There was probably no way out of the darkness once you drove into them.

The pair was there to complain about cuts in their project funding. Both were psychiatrists working with rape and torture victims. They explained how large their caseloads were and about how much stress they and their patients were under and that the project could not afford to lose support staff or facilities.

The man’s voice rose in harsh judgment as he spoke and the woman shed a few tears. Professionalism fell across my face and I began to emote like a tired bureaucrat. I sympathized with them, but kept saying…