CSotD: Keefe cuts through the fog of blame
Skip to comments
The Penn State controversy is so loaded with rich targets that it would be much easier to compile the cartoons it has inspired than to pick one that stands out. But I think Mike Keefe cut through a lot of chaff and got to the base with this panel.
This is a situation where the overriding topic is such a hot button that you really, really need to slow down and, for instance, read the grand jury report (http://online.wsj.com/public/resources/documents/Presentment.pdf) before opining.
Not everyone has done that, clearly. And if this had happened 15 or 20 years ago, there would have been a gap of a few days between the initial news reports and the time the letters to the editor began to show up.
As it is, the reaction has greatly overtaken the information, and editorialists of all stripes — both those who work in words and those who work with images — need to make sure they know what actually happened, not just how everyone is reacting to it, though both are part of the story.
Besides the victims, who I hope will pursue civil actions, my sympathy has begun to center on Mike McQueary, the graduate assistant who stumbled over the worst of the two witnessed events, and who now has one lynch mob wanting to hang him for not stepping in at the moment and another wanting to hang him for reporting it at all.
I'd like to hear the point of view of those who apparently hate him for having blown the whistle, because I don't see how his reporting of the crime had an impact on the Board's decision to fire Joe Paterno, and I assume that is at the core of their grievance.
They may hate him for his grand jury testimony, in which he made it clear that he had indeed communicated the seriousness of what he witnessed, while two other witnesses claimed that Paterno was never aware that something more serious than "horsing around" had occurred. (Exposed genitals and wet towels, for instance, being a relatively non-sexual but irresistable combination for 14-year-olds and older adolescents.)
In order to take that position, however, they must ignore the grand jury's clearly stated conclusion that the other two witnesses were lying, or be so deep into JoePa worship that they assume the grand jury was wrong. And I suspect the latter is the case.
But, as much as I wish the JoePa loyalists would read the grand jury report, then take off their blinders and read it again, there is a very strong element here that makes me appreciate the cartoons by those artists who have conflated this case with the coverups in the Catholic Church.
There is a type, and not a rare type, whose loyalty makes it impossible for them to get their brain around a grand disillusionment like this. They may be as deluded as the "Elvis Lives!" crowd, but we still have to be prepared to share the planet with them while minimizing the damage their blind loyalty does to us all.
I find myself more annoyed, however, with the barroom heroes who know exactly what they'd have done in McQueary's place. These are the people who read about Sgt. York or Audie Murphy and are sure that they'd do the same thing, and that they would run into the burning building and that they would leap forward to subdue the armed robber.
And I'm less annoyed by their own Walter Mitty fantasies than I am by their dismissal of his disillusioned, shocked, horrified paralysis as cowardice. They not only feel that they would become Audie Murphy, but that anybody who doesn't become Audie Murphy is a coward.
There's a reason they hand out medals, and there is a difference between the Congressional Medal of Honor and the trophy you get for being on a recreational soccer team.
I'm currently working on a fictional story based on the second Battle of Sackett's Harbor in the War of 1812. At the start of the battle, Jacob Brown's militia was in place to stop the British coming across a narrow ford onto the mainland, and their initial volley was effective. Then, inexplicably, these hundreds of men rose as one and bolted into the woods like rabbits. Cowards? Apparently not — Brown was able to gather them up later and lead them back into the battle where they performed well.
Sometimes these things happen, and I'm sure those men looked back on that moment with regret. And I'm sure McQueary wishes that he had responded differently to seeing a man he had admired, emulated and followed since he was in junior high doing something so horrific.
However, here's something for the Walter Mitty experts to chew on, and I offer it not as an "excuse" but merely as an "explanation": The players at Penn State have said that, if they beat Nebraska today, they will award a game ball to Joe Paterno. McQueary was only a couple of years removed from that level of unswerving, unquestioning, blind dumbass loyalty when he saw what he saw.
But, when his horror subsided, when he recovered from his panic, he did what he ought to do: He notified the authorities. He told Coach Paterno, then later he met with the athletic director and one of the university's vice-presidents.
And those authorities did nothing.
If McQueary had been older, if he had been farther up that chain of command, I would blame him for not following up, for not making sure that the police were aware of what had gone on.
But I don't blame the Crow scouts for what happened to Custer, and I don't blame McQueary for what his superiors did with the information he provided.
I do blame Paterno, who was not 28 years old, and who knew about the incident and washed his hands rather than following up. He was too close to the top of the chain, and too close to Sandusky, to claim he did his duty.
Anyway, we can bat this around forever. He should have called the police himself instead of following the chain of command. He should have lept in and stopped what was happening on the spot. Panic and paralysis is for cowards. And he should have not simply reported it to his superiors, but checked back regularly with them to see what was happening, and he should not have believed them if they said, "Don't worry. We're taking care of it."
Couldawouldashoulda.
Here's why I like Keefe's focus:
"Although (Senior Vice President) Schultz oversaw the University Police as part of his position, he never reported the 2002 incident to the University Police or any other police agency, never sought or reviewed a police report on the 1998 incident and never attempted to learn the identity of the child in the 2002 incident. No one from the University did so. Schultz did not ask the graduate student for specifics. No one ever did. … Schultz said there was never any discussion between himself and (Athletic Director) Curley about turning the 2002 incident over to any police agency."
That paragraph from the grand jury, and Keefe's cartoon, get to the actual point. The rest is sound and fury.

UPDATE: As in most of these sorts of situations, there are decent people who don't necessarily get the most notice. Last night, Penn State students held a rally in which decency did come to the fore.
Comments 5
Comments are closed.