But, Of Course, He Wasn't Thinking
This entry was posted on 8/30/2008 9:30 AM and is filed under Generally Speaking.
I own a wooden carving that hangs on my office wall. It is a face, eyes wide open. Splayed across the face is a hand with elongated fingers which cover the eyes, but the fingers are spread just far enough apart that the eyes are only partially obscured, conveying the sense that they can see while hidden from view, or are hiding from the view. It artfully portrays hypocrisy, pretending not to see or know what is actually going on right before our eyes, or within the core of our being.
I often glanced appreciatively at this sculpture as I followed Bill Clinton’s impeachment trial, and do so again with the news of John Edward’s fall from grace. It was carved in 1992, long after public disclosure of the sexual adventures of Franklin Roosevelt, Dwight Eisenhower, and John Kennedy, members of a rather exclusive all male (so far) club, joined by other presidents, and some president wannabes. Then there are the governors, and senators.
We've always liked our heroes handsome and physically appealing, but with a chaste public persona, knowing well that when the aphrodisiac of power is added to the mix, the players are primed for dangerous and sometimes disastrous liaisons.
Most pundits predict that John Edward‘s career as a leader is over. But is it?
By noting that he is one among many, I don’t suggest his behavior cannot be faulted, but simply recognize it for what I think it is, a presumed immunity from judgment for one who has risen so high, and mundane human frailty.
Understandable, up to a point.
Surrender to passion, which even if never completely forgiven, or forgotten, by the partner betrayed, can be understood. But thoughtfully making a decision in the cold light of morning is quite another thing. If he wasn’t thinking the night before, what was he thinking when the decision was made to proceed with the campaign, knowing that the time bomb of likely discovery was ticking?
Putting the election at risk, his own, or that of the candidates whose policies he supported, and apparently disregarding the impact of public disclosure on the wellbeing of his loved ones, is harder to comprehend. Yet for me, empathy is still possible when I consider the pain both he and his wife must continue to suffer over the tragic death of their son, her serious illness and other unhappiness they may share. Seeking to be self-protective is a universal human response. He is berated for the folly of believing that the secret could be kept, but we only know of the failures of secrecy. Cover-ups that have succeeded may indeed be legion.
To the surprise of many, given time for the roiling seas to calm, Clinton's post-Monica rating with the public actually rose rather than fell. Did his weaknesses offer a measure of acceptance for our own? Is this the model Edwards used, thinking he could survive if later discovered? Believing that one day he too could seek redemption and be forgiven, not just by his wife.
What are our hidden thoughts when we view a flawed but otherwise admired celebrity? Some are forgiving, as Hillary Clinton and Elizabeth Edwards appear to be. Supporters are understandably angry and feel let down. But so many are quick to publicly assess Edwards as no longer a person of worth. How many voice disapproval, judge him harshly, all the while pretending not to see who we have been or might one day be? Is this the real secret?
When discussing Edward’s with a close friend, she asked me whether my husband had been faithful. I paused for a moment, a bit surprised by the question, but then answered easily: I believe he was, but like Jimmy Carter, I’m sure there were times “he lusted in his heart.”