When Getting By Isn't Good Enough

Just when we begin to think that a fat bank account, powerful friends, and smart lawyers are all it takes to tip the scales of Justice, the recent arrest of cinema darling Roman Polanski (pictured) reminds us that even in this life, while you may get-by, you don't always get-away.

Polanski, 76, who directed such critically acclaimed movies as "Chinatown" (1974), and "The Pianist" (2002), was arrested in Switzerland over the weekend at the request of law enforcement authorities in Los Angeles, California, who had a 31-year old warrant for Polanski's arrest. Polanski, convicted in 1977 of having sex with a 13-year old girl, fled California for Europe prior to his sentencing for the crime; and had successfully avoided countries that might extradite him to the United States -- until last weekend.

There is no excuse for any of Polanski's actions. Not his flight from justice. Not his crime against a 13-year old child.

Most difficult of all to swallow is the rising chorus of voices calling for his immediate absolution because (1) his crimes were committed such a long time ago; and (2) he's had such a remarkable career in the 30-plus years since his conviction, which ought to count for something -- like a "get out of jail free" card.

Trying to argue for accountability, fairness, justice, and the rule of law with the folks who are pulling for Polanski's immediate release is, I think, a futile endeavor. The sad part is this: There are a lot of people in our society who think as they do.

However, the encouraging part in this long, painful story is that there are times when even the rich and powerful are called to answer for their crimes, no matter how long they've managed to get-by.

The Runner, the Motorist, and the Turtle

The story below actually happened to my wife Jay, and is re-told with her permission. (It's not like the story is copyrighted; or that my wife would sue me, or something, if I didn't obtain her permission. But if you like this story, and you know my wife, please tell her so.)

A few days ago, my wife was running through our neighborhood when she saw a box turtle in the street.

The turtle was half-way across the street as she passed.

Approaching, from the opposite direction, was a car that attracted my wife's attention because, as it approached, it began to slow. Then, several yards beyond my wife, the car stopped.

As she turned, she noticed that the car had stopped at the turtle. A man emerged from the driver's side. He picked-up the turtle, and headed to the grass beyond the curb -- limping.

The Perceptions of the Professor, the Policeman, and the President

One of my least favorite popular phrases is, "Perception is reality." Nothing is farther from truth, as is definitively shown through the recent tempest surrounding the arrest of noted Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. (pictured).

As you may remember, Gates -- who is black -- was arrested by a white police officer in front of his Cambridge, Massachusetts residence for disorderly conduct. Gates, it seems, was upset with the police officer for alleged "racial profiling" in his investigation of a 911 call from one of Gates' neighbors that two men were forcing the front door of Gates' house. Gates perceived that he was being investigated because of his race. He is a black man in a predominantly white neighborhood.

The officer, a police sergeant with an exemplary service record, says that he was just doing his job in ensuring that Gates was the rightful occupant of the house as the indignant professor vociferously questioned the sergeant's motives. The sergeant says that he told Gates that he was risking arrest because of his conduct, and when the professor persisted, he was arrested.

The President, who during his election campaign noted that he had sometimes found it difficult to hail a cab in some cities because of cab drivers' perception that they are at a greater risk of being robbed by a black passenger than one who is not black, weighed in by saying that the Cambridge police had "acted stupidly" in arresting Gates, and fanned the embers back into flames.

So, today, the President will host the professor and the policeman at a picnic table at the White House and, over beers, try to redeem the situation. Which brings me back to my least favorite popular phrase.

Yes, our perceptions do frame our own peculiar realities, but that is not Reality, as in the truth.
The professor, understandably perhaps, based on his research and experience, thought that what was happening was a textbook case of discrimination based on race. It was not. Gates' neighbor saw two strange men entering a house by force and did what any good neighbor should do: Call the police.

The policeman perceived Gates as an angry, abusive citizen, perhaps not unlike many other citizens he's encountered in his law enforcement career, and he had his own textbook response for the professor's behavior: Arrest. In retrospect, perhaps the sergeant would have rather talked-down the professor in Cambridge and saved the trip to Washington, D. C. for another time.

The President perceived that the policeman had not used his best judgment by arresting Gates. Not having been there, perhaps the President's perception was the worst of the three. But that did not stop him from offering an opinion framed by his own experiences and, perhaps his personal acquaintance with Professor Gates. He apologized for his public remarks, and hopes to do a little fence-mending of his own today at the picnic table.

Is perception reality? Clearly not. Perception is perception. Reality is reality. We all use what we have and what we know to make sense of our world and the situations in which we find ourselves. But we should resist the temptation to measure others with our limited -- and often inaccurate -- yardstick.

The antidote to erroneous judgments based on limited vision (remember: to "perceive" means to "see") is humility and an even-handed approach to all situations and all people -- particularly those whom we suspect are not our champions. If we acted in such a manner, we would be amazed at how pitifully limited our perceptions are, and how magnificently broad is Reality.

Religion: The Scoundrel's Last Refuge?

Last Wednesday's shooting death of a security guard special by an 88-year old white supremacist in Washington, D. C.'s Holocaust Museum brought to mind two thoughts.

The first thought is a quote from 18th Century English writer Samuel Johnson (see photo): "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel." 

The second thought is a recollection of a meeting I once had with another elderly white supremacist nearly 30 years ago, who called his fellowship of racial hatred a "church."

The year was 1981.  I was working as a religion reporter in The Miami Herald newspaper's Broward County bureau when I discovered the existence of a group that called itself The World Church of the Creator (please click here for a link to the Anti-Defamation League's write-up on the group).  After a phone call to the group's founder, Ben Klassen, a white colleague and I arranged to interview Klassen for the article.

It was clear that Mr. Klassen's "church" was a refuge for scoundrels -- similar to the contemporaries of Samuel Johnson that gave genuine patriots a bad name.  

Likewise, the museum shooter -- James W. von Brunn -- an alleged World War II veteran who described himself as a patriot, according to reports of writings posted on his Web site.  

In such cases as these, it is always the genuine article that betrays the phoniness of the Klassens and the von Brunns of society.  Real patriots do not need to pin a flag on their lapel.  Their patriotism is measured in sacrifices made for the benefit of all of one's fellow citizens, not in the collection of perquisites and prerogatives for one's own family, group, or tribe.

Similarly, according to scripture, true disciples are known by their unalloyed love for the wide-ranging fraternity of God: Red, yellow, black and white -- and brown.  True disciples are the salt of the earth, and the candle in the darkened room. 

When true patriots and true disciples are at their best, there is no place for the scoundrels of the earth to hide.  

Torture: Were God in the Room. . .

Several years ago, while teaching "Ethics and Moral Reasoning" in the U. S. Naval Academy's mandatory sophomore-level course of the same name, I heard a recently-retired three-star admiral say that while he would welcome lawyers in a room where decisions about air strikes were being made; he would exclude chaplains.

Based on recent news reports, it seems the folks who were making decisions about the interrogations of suspected terrorists had the same idea as the admiral. (To read a New York Times newspaper article on the subject, click here.)

While acquiring legal, medical and psychological cover for interrogation methods that many -- if not most -- lawyers, physicians and mental health professionals consider both illegal and unethical; it seems the Bush administration, the U. S. Justice Department, and the Central Intelligence Agency were unwilling to consider the morality of how they "persuaded" our enemies to give-up information.

The admiral's comments were a candid admission that when God is in the room, people are compelled to behave themselves. 

I am not saying that a chaplain -- in any way, circumstance, or form -- is God. However, clergy generally represent a standard that is higher than what is merely legal, even if all clergy (and I am speaking from observation and personal experience) fall short of that standard in their life and in their vocation.

The 17th Century French priest St. Vincent de Paul reportedly wrote or said that a man in a hurry misses the things of God. Clearly, in the aftermath of September 11, 2001, we were a hurried and a fearful nation. And while it is good that our houses of worship, for a time, were filled with people seeking solace, guidance, and strength, there is now ample evidence that other Americans were inviting everyone but God into the situation room.

The admiral referenced above explained that with the chaplain came inconveniences.  For example, we might reason that there is acceptable risk in attacking terrorists who are in a building situated across the street from a school house -- unless our child is in the school house.  

When God is in the room, the captor becomes the one captured; the strong consider the position of the weak; and the means to an end are considered as seriously as the end.  At every level, the recognition of an authority greater than we reminds us that not everything that may be legal is right; and that just because we can do something, doesn't mean that we ought.

NFL Sheds War Metaphors

Good on the National Football League for officially abandoning terms borrowed from combat to describe what is happening on the field of play. (For the full Washington Post story, please click here, or on the title above.)

Sportswriters, coaches, players and fans have all been guilty of dressing the game of football in fatigues and war paint, oblivious or unconcerned that doing so made them look ridiculous, while glorifying the horrific nature of war. Over time, a game became "war," and war became "a game."

As one observer, who was both a former Army officer and a former NFL player, said in the Post story, "A football game is a battle between two teams, but you don't die."

So, on this Super Bowl Sunday, I salute -- er, cheer -- the NFL for taking a needed, and long overdue, step toward civility and common sense. Now, if we can just get the folks in the business and financial worlds to do the same.

Too "Big" to Fail; Too "Good" to Overlook?

If you remember the discussions late last year about whether it was necessary to "bail-out" failing private companies with public money, you also probably remember hearing some public officials and pundits saying that it was in the public interest to save these private corporations because those corporations were "too big to fail." The idea is that if some, select, large, banks, automobile manufacturers, and stock brokerage houses -- pillars of the national economy -- are allowed to suffer the full consequences of their poor financial decisions, the national economy, as we know it, would cease to exist.

Yesterday, we were confronted with the personal equivalent of the the corporate "bail-out": Too good to overlook. We see this dynamic at work in the case of Health and Human Service Secretary designate Thomas A. Daschle who, it was reported, failed to pay more than $128k in taxes over three years for "unreported consulting fees, questionable charitable contributions, and a car and driver provided by a private equity firm. . ." (Click here for the full article in The Washington Post.)

He "is the best person to help reform health care in this country, " said a spokesman for Senate Majority Leader Harry M. Reid. In other words, he's too good to overlook.

Mr. Daschle is not the first of President Barack Obama's nominees for cabinet-level positions to own up, belatedly, to having unpaid federal income tax obligations. Treasury Secretary Timothy F. Geithner was in Mr. Daschle's place only a few weeks ago, when it was revealed that he owed more than $43k in unpaid federal tax and interest on the amout owed. (Click here for the full article in The New York Times.) Concerns about the incongruity of the nation's senior tax collector (since the Internal Revenue Service is under the Treasury Department) being less than circumspect about his own taxes were soon resolved, in some degree because, as the White House Press Secretary said: Geithner is the “right person to help lead our economic recovery during these challenging times.” In other words, he's too good to overlook.

The idea of something being too big to fail; or of someone being too good to overlook ought to make all of us uneasy, because such views imply that the rules that generally apply to others, do not specifically apply to me. It would seem that such attitudes have largely contributed to -- and perpetuated -- our foundering financial, economic, political, and moral states.

I think that there is an antidote to the "2big/2good" view: Humility and equity.

Humility requires that we repudiate the intoxicating thought that some rules don't apply to us because we're too wise, successful, or strong. Humility requires that we readily admit that we haven't always been square in our public and personal dealings, and resolve -- daily -- to live according to the highest standard.

Equity (fairness) requires that we continually ask: "If it's good enough for me, why is it not good enough for others?" Equity requires that if we do not like the answer to the previous question, that we commit our energy to balancing the scales.