Lawsuit sheds disturbing light on sexism at Voice of America

ABOUT 1,100 women stand to share more than a half-billion dollars in the largest settlement ever in an employment-discrimination case.

WASHINGTON - Dona De Sanctis felt a surge of adrenaline each time she strode past the lobby murals and into the warren of offices that make up the Voice of America's broadcast operation. She loved radio, and her passion was only heightened hearing shows prepared in Bangla, Pashto, Hungarian or any of the 50 languages in which VOA broadcasts are beamed around the globe.

"VOA had a very international atmosphere. It was more cosmopolitan than anything you'd see" in downtown Washington, De Sanctis said. "There were people of all races, people from all backgrounds. I liked that."

With a doctorate and five years' experience with the Vatican Radio Service, De Sanctis figured she would fit right in with what she saw as a special corps of people fulfilling a special mission: spreading the good word on the American way of life to the rest of the world.

But after inquiring about a full-time job, she was offered a $50-a-day post as a freelance writer and producer with no job security and no benefits.

Once on board, she applied for every full-time broadcasting job that came open. But always the response was the same, a form letter saying she did not measure up. Finally, a supervisor told her, "I think you would be better off looking somewhere else." Demoralized, she resigned.

"I just figured I wasn't good enough to work at the Voice of America," De Sanctis said. Only years later she learned the deck was stacked against her all along: She was not a man.

De Sanctis is among 1,100 women in line to share more than a half-billion dollars in the largest settlement ever in an employment-discrimination case. The agreement ends a 23-year-old lawsuit against the federal government, alleging that women were denied jobs and promotions at the now-defunct United States Information Agency (USIA) and its broadcasting arm, VOA, because of their gender. The plaintiffs were women who sought work as broadcasters, technicians, writers and editors between 1974 and 1984.

In agreeing to the settlement late last month, the government acknowledged no discrimination, and no one was punished. Many who perpetuated this discrimination are no longer at the agency. Others denied it during litigation, although some acknowledged abuses in sworn testimony.

Evidence showed that despite the VOA's genteel exterior and heady mission, startling discrimination was directed against women. Women employees said there weren't crude sexual come-ons or sexist jokes. Instead, a quiet, deeply entrenched bias permeated the agency.

Qualified female applicants were told the agency had enough "female voices." Others were accused of attempting to take bread "from a man's mouth." But many other women had no clue they were being victimized.

Heads of various VOA offices routinely lowered women's employment test scores, altered and destroyed personnel files and otherwise manipulated the hiring process to let their cronies in and largely keep women out.

Kwaja Hasan, a test evaluator, told in court of the "buddy system" at the VOA's Urdu language service. Asked whether the system passed friends and failed people it did not want in, he answered: "That's correct." This was common throughout the VOA.

De Sanctis once was rejected for an internship in favor of William Marsh, the son of a senior VOA manager. Marsh's only work experience had been as an office clerk and as a waiter.

Despite his lack of experience, Marsh received what the special master who heard the case called an "astounding" score on his writing test, topping the entire field, which included De Sanctis and other professional journalists. The head of the intern-selection panel recalled in court that the senior Marsh was "probably my best friend."

Still, in this case and others, VOA officials insisted that they simply offered jobs to the best-qualified candidates.

Such practices may have grown out of accepted bias that for generations apparently pervaded the nation's diplomatic corps and agencies such as the VOA that worked closely with it, said lawyers for the women. Until the early 1970s, U.S. policy required female foreign-service officers to resign when they married. The rationale was that their husbands might not be willing to follow them to jobs around the world. The same thinking did not apply to men.

While much of the discrimination was invisible to the victims, a moment of blatant bias got the case started. Applying for a magazine writer's job, Carolee Brady Hartman was told by a USIA editor, "We do have a position opening up, but we are looking to fill it with a man."

Upon hearing that, she took her complaint to Bruce Fredrickson, then a newly minted lawyer, who has been with the case since filing it in 1977. The government prevailed in U.S. District Court in 1979, but Fredrickson appealed and eventually won a new trial - and the case. Government lawyers pursued a futile string of appeals that only stalled the case's resolution while inflating the eventual settlement cost.