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I’m usually the first to complain (smugly, I’ll admit) about how much the mainstream media fixates on crime stories. By the same token, I don’t like when preachy journalists denounce the media for covering crime stories, thereby covering that same crime story even more. Either way, I promised myself I wouldn’t write about the Penn State scandal, but here we go.
By now we’ve all heard the jarring allegations and seen the subsequent media blitz. I’ve reached my boiling point here. This time, I’m not bothered by the extent to which a crime story has been covered. Rather, what bothers me now is that some commentators seek to compare some part of the Penn State scandal with another historical atrocity. Unfortunately, this trope is all too familiar in today’s media coverage of crime and violence.
Where does that get us? Why do we foolishly try to compare a crime to other crimes?
Take David Brooks’ recent op-ed regarding assistant coach Mike McQueary’s failure to intervene upon witnessing Jerry Sandusky allegedly raping a 10-year-old boy in the Penn State locker room showers in 2002. Brooks argues that none of us really knows what we would do in that same situation. It is easy for us to judge McQueary and now ex-head coach Joe Paterno (who also only reported the offense to his superiors instead of contacting the police) when we might actually behave in the same manner.
That’s a fair point. However, Brooks then takes it one step further, likening McQueary’s failure to act with the complacent bystanders of the Holocaust or the Rwandan genocide.
Now there’s the rub. While I disagree with his central argument (I think McQueary and Paterno’s inaction is morally reprehensible, if not criminal), I can recognize the point he is making. But the comparison with historical genocide? Why is our national conversation about crime and violence rife with analogy? We need to stop ranking, comparing, and juxtaposing atrocities. Logically, it’s not a worthwhile task, not to mention I find it rather repugnant.
It is, perhaps, understandable why we do this. It’s hard to wrap your mind around real violence. We package crime into neatly reasoned syllogisms as a societal coping mechanism. We must resist the urge to do this because it doesn’t get us any closer to understanding what cannot be understood. Likening Casey Anthony to O.J. Simpson won’t bring clarity. Comparing the Tuscon attack to the Norway bombing won’t bring the victims back. It may make for a flashy headline or meme, but violence is too irrational for these tidy parallels.
Trying to understand horrific violence, like in the Penn State case, is a frustrating exercise in futility. As a society in the wake of tragedy, we must stop trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. Reflection, in the media or elsewhere, needn’t always seek to completely understand.
And this is not another column about how high-profile crime should not be considered “news.” In its most basic definition, crime is a deviation from normalcy. Criminal action is behavior that is antithetical to what is considered legally normal. It’s not surprising then that crime is ubiquitous in TV, movies, and all other forms of mass media. Crime most interests those who find it inherently different from their daily lives (I doubt many registered sex offenders watch Law & Order: SVU). This “deviance” is also the very soul of news. Something that deviates from what you would expect is by its nature newsworthy. Naturally, crime has always had a special place in the history of American news.
And that doesn’t necessarily have to change. What should change, though, is the uncouthly comparative nature of crime journalism. Crime can be news, but let’s not try to rationalize high-profile crime by placing it side by side with other historical atrocities. It gets us nowhere.
Crazy stuff happens in this world, and the Penn State case is a horrific example of that. Sometimes, historical comparisons can help us understand the present. This is not one of those times.
55 Comments
Art:I have also wrestled with wethher to wear my extensive collection of PSU clothing since this ugly incident became public knowledge. I had to have serious discussions with my two older children (a high school senior considering PSU and a high school sophomore) explaining that even though I was a tremendous supporter of Joe Paterno, that he needed to resign immediately. I needed them to know that when a person, regardless of their track record, makes that decision to allow a suspected child molester maintain an office in the building where the crime occurred, that they must be held accountable.I also felt compelled to e-mail Graham Spanier, explaining my feelings and that both he and Joe must resign immediately. I am sure that my message had little to bear on his decision, but I needed to get it off of my chest.I remember that I had a Penn State book bag when I attended Central. I did not choose it because I wanted to go to PSU (in fact, I ended up at PSU because of poor planning). I chose it because Joe Paterno ran such a good, clean program. This incident calls into question everything that Joe did in the past. It is unfortunate, but he deserves to have his entire legacy called into question.I have decided to continue to show my allegiance to Penn State. I am still grieving for the victims and pray that they can somehow recover. I also want to show support for the current students, professors and administrators that had no knowledge of this incident and who will bear an unjust burden due to the actions of a serial pedophile and those who allowed it to continue.Mike
Regarding Penn State coach’s sexual abuse of crdlihen. I’m too upset to call on air. I’m so grateful for Mike Papantonio’s strong outrage about the responsibility and cowardice of Penn State men who chose money and football over the young crdlihen who will be damaged for life. I read the Grand Jury’s report which can be accessed from the Pennsylvania State Attorney General’s website. It summarizes in horrifying detail the testimony of many young males who were recruited, given special privileges and gifts, and then sexually abused and assaulted by this trusted coach Sandusky. There are probably dozens more crdlihen that were abused by this predator. It is impossible not to believe there was a deliberate coverup at multiple levels and on multiple occasions at Penn State just as in the Catholic church.My family lived in State College (home of Penn State) in the 1960 s. In that era, there were cases of young women being raped on campus by fraternity men. I don’t know what the university did then to deal with the perpetrators of those crimes and to prevent further sexual assaults. Sadly our society in general too often fails to protect crdlihen or women (and occasionally men, especially gay men) from sexual assault often in their own families, schools, athletic and social organizations, churches, etc. The physical, emotional, psychological, financial and social costs of such failure are huge and long lasting,often impacting generations.