I struggled as to whether I would write on the disturbing case unfolding at Penn State University. On the one hand, this is a case that is at the core of our organizational passion and expertise. What we are witnessing and trying to make sense of as a nation lies within the cross hairs of character and culture—the very topics to which we have dedicated our lives and work at IEE. On the other and, in this media-saturated world we are bombarded with information, information that is often incomplete and inaccurate; and too often analysis and commentary offered at these times risks contributing more heat than light.
Here’s at least one reason I decided that I needed to share some thoughts: my eight year-old son. Since around the age of four he has exhibited a passion and exuberance for sport. Any game, anytime, anywhere, he’ll play it, watch it, or talk about it. He can be heard day and night rolling on the floor, commentating the actions of a game, mimicking every gesture and phrase common to sport. First hugs of the day with him are followed with either an update from some game the night before, or questions about who won or lost. He’s simply got the bug for all things sports. It’s beautiful; it’s pure and simple.
But of course not everything in sport is pretty and nice; much is ugly and downright unethical. But still it gives us a context to talk about that too. Sometimes I hope he won’t see the ugliness and that the purity of his viewpoint on sport and people and life could be preserved forever—but I know it can’t.
This morning he snuck down quietly to the basement for a stolen few minutes of Sports Center—one of his great pleasures in life already. We immediately hustled to tell him to turn it off, knowing that the Penn State story would dominate. Before we could, he ran up the stairs saying, “Dad, Joe Paterno got fired? But why?” I wasn’t ready. I should have been, but I wasn’t. Once again, I hoped he hadn’t seen it and that it would go away. But it wouldn’t.
So I shared the following explanation with my son and my nine year-old daughter: “Coach Paterno didn’t actually do anything illegal. There were some people at Penn State who did some bad things, and Coach Paterno and others knew and didn’t do enough to make it right.” And then I said, “At work we sometimes say it this way: ‘There are no innocent bystanders.’ When you stand by and watch something bad happen and don’t do anything about it, you’re not innocent. In fact, you’re as bad as the person who did the bad thing. That’s why he got fired.” They seemed to understand that well and we talked about where and when they need to be ready to intervene like the playground, etc.
Throughout the day as I listened to commentaries and talked with colleagues, I became unsatisfied with my response. Why after all of the media attention was I really unsure as to who did what and who knew what? How was it that I again and again it seemed like Joe Paterno was the victim, not these young boys, who were at the time of their abuse not much older than my own son? Why hadn’t I told my kids the whole truth? What was the truth?
As an act of conscience I decided to read the transcript of the grand jury testimony. If you can’t bring yourself to read it, I understand that: it’s human depravity and sickness at its worst. Let’s just say that it wasn’t until I did that I realized that my response was inadequate, my explanation too clean and easy. What Coach Sandusky did was pure pathology and sickness—done to the most vulnerable, done using all the trappings of power and prestige and materialism that would literally seduce those at risk boys into allowing this predator into their lives.
But it was the words I shared with my kids this morning, the words we have shared with so many through our work here at IEE that hit me hardest as I read the testimony: “There are no innocent bystanders.” As I read the grand jury testimony the gravity of the moral meltdown hit me.
As I read the transcript I compiled a list of people who knew something about Mr. Sandusky that are named in the report: a wrestling coach, an assistant principal at the local school, a 28 year-old graduate assistant, the father of the graduate assistant, Coach Paterno, AD Tim Curley, VP Gary Schultz, the Executive Director at Second Mile, the Penn State Campus Police, Child Protective Services, the University’s Counsel lawyer, Pennsylvania Department of Public Welfare, two custodians, the custodian’s supervisor. I’m sure if I combed the report again I would find people I missed who knew something.
If I was from the list above to put together a logical web of colleagues and family members I would easily come up with a constellation of people who knew something that would number in the 100’s. If I were to make a list of places where the victims reported being with Mr. Sandusky they include college and pro football games, Penn State athletic facilities, offices and buildings, restaurants, local parks, and local schools. And again, were I to create a web of people who in these various settings would have seen something, sensed something, wondered something it would likely number in the thousands. If I were to read the report again I would find in almost every case an example of where these individuals did something—but nobody, nobody did enough.
This is not an attempt to engage in shameless self-righteousness and moral indignation pointing the fingers at “them” and what they did or didn’t do. We must avoid this at all costs. What we are learning in this case has been learned from world wars and holocausts past and present, from every form of human rights movement, from school shootings and acts of hazing and bullying be they in the school or in the workplace: (1) human beings are painfully slow to intervene and to act upon what they know and believe to be wrong. (2) There is a collective instinct NOT to intervene. (3) We are all to some degree tainted and corrupted by the instincts of self-preservation self-promotion, which leads us to override the voice of conscience. (4) Our individual and collective conscience is weak, terribly weak! And, (5) unless or until someone speaks out and steps in, there is a herd instinct NOT to step in.
There were many with the chance to speak up and step in; no one did so with enough moral conviction to awaken the moral voice in every one. Thus no one person is to blame for not responding more fully; we are all to blame.
Moral meltdowns such as this seem so obvious fix or avoid. We draw them up like football analysts playing Monday morning quarterback. Should have seen this; should have done that; why didn’t they just; if they had only done. It all looks so clear when we can rewind it, slow it down, dissect it. It seems so easy when we’re not tired, scared, worn down and weak.
I truly think our pain and embarrassment of what is happening at Penn State is at some level the realization that we are looking on something that could have very well happened in my community, that I could have been that person who turned away, who sheepishly thought, “who am I?” “what could I possibly do?”
We all have a responsibility to learn and grown from this tragedy. Conscience and character are muscles, muscles that must be exercised regularly. We cannot expect to be ready for great moral challenges when we neglect to work out on the smaller daily moral challenges. How often do I ignore offensive humor; how often have I turned away, driven past someone or something, failed to help,failed to call, failed to do something? We have all failed and sadly, we will fail again.
I failed this morning with my kids. I will return to this issue tomorrow with my children to help them grow more fully from the deeper lessons and truths of this story. What I said to my son and daughter wasn’t the wrong but it was cleansed beyond effect. I failed to honestly convey what was that was done wrong and to whom it was done. As a result they will likely not learn vitally important lessons that they need to protect themselves from the Coach Sandusky’s of the world, and to prevent themselves from making the same mistakes that have been made by Coach Paterno and others at Penn State.
Tomorrow morning I will tell my kids that an assistant football coach at Penn State did inappropriate sexual things to young boys; that he gave the boys tickets to games, and jerseys, and bought them meals so that he could trick them into letting him do things they didn’t want to do. I will tell them that Coach Sandusky is a sick man and that there are other sick men out there like him; that they should not fear people, but that they should be careful too. I will also tell him that many people at Penn State, including Coach Paterno, knew something had happened to these boys and none of them did all that they could do to stop it, and to save these boys from this coach—and to save this sick man from himself.
There are indeed no innocent bystanders in this case. Joe Paterno may not be guilty, but he is not innocent either. But neither are any of the others in this case. He may be getting too much attention, but as an old coach he knows very well that coaches get too much credit when teams win and too much blame when they lose. He has certainly known the thrill of victory; and this defeat is no doubt pure agony for him and his family. He has had many victories, but I’m sure even he would acknowledge having learned more from his defeats. In time we will all hopefully learn from this defeat along with him.
I cried this afternoon as I read the grand jury testimony. I thought of my own son and I cried. How could he? How could they? How can we allow such terrible things to happen each day in our homes and school and communities to the most vulnerable? I mourn for Coach Paterno and for the entire Penn State community but I believe the trustees did the right thing. I particularly mourn for those boys.
I am reminded of Arthur Miller play, All My Sons. In it the father commits suicide after realizing that his actions, his moral failures, done for self-preservation and the benefit of his own sons, lead to the death of 21 American Pilots. A famous quote from the play, gives us all plenty to reflect on in light of the incidents at Penn State: “You can be better. Once and for all you can know there’s a universe of people outside and you’re responsible to it.” The father in the play realizes, what we must all realize today: “They are all our sons and daughters.” Coach Paterno has been father to so many young men, father to so many student athletes and coaches. He has done so much good for so many but he also knows that “from those to whom much is given, much is expected.”
I am sad tonight. I am sad to have witnessed again the depravity of mankind and how one person’s sickness can affect so many. I am sad to see that we all lost in this battle. It is a loss will burn in my belly for a long time. I realize once again that there are no innocent bystanders and I recommit to stand up for what is right, to speak up on what is wrong, to risk self-preservation and self-promotion for the good of humankind.
For tonight I’ll just go home and watch a few minutes of a game with my son and hope he doesn’t see the tears run down my face or sense the depths of my sadness.
Joan Niemann 9:48 pm on January 30, 2012 Permalink |
Congratulations on your excellent program and all of you who make this wonderful work happen!