Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Lies, Bloody Lies and Yellow Jerseys
Just last week Lance Armstrong finally admitted having taken
performance-enhancing drugs during his biking career. Some people were shocked,
since the idol whose “Live Strong” campaign they had supported, had fallen off
the pedestal. Others cynically remarked that they had long suspected that something
was wrong with Mr. Teflon. But the fact remains: the man previously considered
the greatest biker of all times (the two-wheeled Michael Phelps) is now
disgraced, and none of his achievements count for anything.
So Lance decided to go to confession, and the confessional
was Oprah’s show. That too is telling: not a press conference, not an admission
before a judge, but on national television, on one of the most successful talk
shows in the world. And 4.3 million people watched. Oprah did not pull any
punches either, speaking of him as a “cocky, arrogant jerk”. She did not give
him absolution, but it is clear that Lance expects sympathy: “I deserve to be
punished, but …not the death penalty (referring to a life-long ban)”.
What do you do with
somebody who not only lied, but lied repeatedly, accused others who claimed he
was not telling the truth, and even paraded his innocence in the media? Is
lying a petty crime, one that hardly deserves a shrug? Why be so hard on Lance,
if one of his country’s presidents perjured himself yet continued in office? Or
should society make an example of him, ostracize and never rehabilitate him?
Should he even pay back all the money he made while cheating the system? The
views on the matter are so diverse that it seems hard to find a good
settlement.
The basic dilemma Lance puts us in is the tension between
justice and mercy. If a legal system is going to have any teeth, it needs to
enforce the penalties stipulated for each infringement, anything else would be
unjust. But every person deserves a second chance, maybe even a third. This is
why countries have amnesties, penal systems allow for parole, and kings pardon
their subjects. But what determines whether mercy should be shown, and to what
degree? Traditionally remorse is seen as one mitigating factor; and how
merciful that person has been to others, which is why Shylock in Shakespeare’s
“Merchant of Venice” can expect so little given that he systematically failed
to show mercy.
Hence one question is whether Lance shows genuine remorse.
Is his confession an expression of being genuinely sorry and wanting to come
clean, or is it a ploy to see how much sympathy he can garner in order to see
his lifelong ban lifted? Let us assume for a moment it is he former i.e. Lance
is truly sorry and repentant. Does this mean he should be able to race again
next month? I don’t think so. We want grace, but not cheap grace. Let’s see
some real change, let’s see him volunteer with drug addicts, let’s see him go
into schools and tell his story there. Then we can discuss lifting of bans, not
before.
That leaves the curious question of Oprah. Why did he not just
tell his mom, his buddy, his neighbour, but Oprah? What is it about her that
makes her special? Somebody said she is simply a new fashioned confessional.
For those of us who are a bit wobbly on their Catholic: a confessional is a physical
space, such as a room or a cubicle, where you can meet a priest for one
reason…and one reason only: to confess your sins. Not because Christians don’t
believe that God cannot or will not forgive sins if you talk to him “directly”,
alone, in private. But because Catholics, Orthodox and Lutherans have
understood that having to tell your sins to another human being does something
to you: you experience shame, remorse, relief, all at the same time. And you
acknowledge that the wrong you have done did not just affect you, not simply
your relationship with God, but the whole community or society. I believe that
is why Lance went to see Oprah, because he wanted his confession to be as
public as his sin, and for that I admire him.
Over the last few days a number of us have picked up stones,
wanting to stone this arrogant athlete who took so long in coming forward. But
before we throw that stone, let us consider for a moment whether there isn’t
anything in our life that is disingenuous, crooked or simply wrong. If there
is, let’s find a confessional quickly, and set things right. Let’s face it, we
have all taken some performance-enhancing drug, whether it is called money, sex,
power, or whatever. And we too must come clean so that we can move on with our
lives. So see you on Oprah next week?
