Life offers lessons almost everywhere you turn, if you have the grace to accept them.
Last week’s headlines were dominated by the Jerry Sandusky child sexual abuse scandal and the madness that unraveled on the streets surrounding Pennsylvania State University and in the minds of those involved.
Sandusky, a former Penn State football assistant coach, was arrested in early November and charged with 40 counts of molesting eight young boys over a 15-year period.
Sandusky retired from his job as an assistant coach in 1999, but his close friendship with the distinguished head coach Joe Paterno allowed him continued access to Penn State’s athletic facilities.
According to a grand jury investigation, a janitor saw Sandusky performing oral sex on a boy between 11 and 13 years of age in Penn State’s football shower facilities in 2000. The janitor reported the incident to his supervisor, but not to school or police officials.
In 2002, graduate assistant Mike McQueary allegedly saw Sandusky sodomizing a 10-year-old boy in the showers. McQueary told Paterno about the incident, and Paterno reported it to Penn State’s athletic director. Sandusky was asked not to bring any more children to the football building, but no further action was taken at that time. Later, Paterno would contend that McQueary was not specific about what he had seen—saying only that he heard Sandusky had “behaved inappropriately”—and was not aware of the severity of the incident.
Sandusky continued working at a summer camp he had started for children in 1977, where he likely assaulted several more boys until he left the organization in 2010 as allegations of sexual abuse became public.
When this information was released by the grand jury last week, Paterno offered to retire at the end of the season over his failure to report the crime. The Penn State Board of Trustees rejected Paterno’s resignation offer, opting instead to fire him immediately. Penn State President Graham Spanier was also forced to resign for a statement he issued at the beginning of the scandal, in which he offered unconditional support to two other employees who did not report the incidents, and for failing to express any concern for Sandusky’s victims.
In response, several hundred student protestors turned over news vans and led riots across Penn State. But Paterno was wrong to not report his friend’s “inappropriate behavior.” A man regarded as a hero by many was blinded by his friendship, and eight young boys paid for his ignorance.
The real heroes in this incident were the quiet voices—those that spoke softly but wrought words of justice and dissent.
Victim 1 was a hero. He stood up and overcame the shame that many sexual assault victims feel. He told his mother what Sandusky had allegedly done to him when he was 11 or 12. His courage to stand up against the behemoth Public Ivy school spurred the grand jury investigation, and may have ultimately helped the seven other young men involved achieve some sense of closure. His actions might have unleashed the ire of the nation against Penn State in the short term, but the school will be better because of it.
Also heroes were the estimated 10,000 Penn State students who rejected the pro-Paterno riots of their counterparts and held a candlelight vigil for the young men impacted by his ignorance. Their willingness to forsake a man whose name was synonymous with Penn State for 45 years because of his failure to do what was right is inspirational, and provides hope for the future of the country.
What did Penn State football fans learn? Though pride and loyalty are blinding, it is important to acknowledge that everything is fallible. Heroes can be wrong, unlikely voices can be right, and dissent is necessary to topple those who deceive us.
Note: This editorial has been amended to clarify that Penn State is considered a Public Ivy, and is not typically classified as one of the eight “Ivy League” schools.
