Flotsam, Jetsam, Liam - Issue #2
“The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough.”
Originally published on Revue - February 27, 2019
Unraveling Hero Worship - Part 1
The adage “never meet your heroes” does not tell the whole story. That many of us would point to parents, siblings, coaches, and teachers as our personal heroes reveals that we conjure our deepest respect and admiration from our strongest relationships.
However, the sentiment behind the cautionary phrase merits consideration. Sometimes the mythology behind an individual–the weight of the excellence or struggle that he/she represents–has grown so illustrious that no one person can be that embodiment for every waking second. Sometimes our heroes evolve, or the moment passes them by, or they sign on to play for the rival team (i.e. Babe Ruth, Luis Figo, Carlos Tevez, Ray Allen). And on occasion, our heroes seriously let us down, manufacturing pain with the same machinery that once produced hope for mass-exportation.
Reckonings that fit this dour narrative are nothing new, but several recent examples have been particularly high-profile and uncommonly painful. As a society, we have done a poor job of determining meaningful ways to heal, learn, and rebound from these instances, firing up the meme generator rather than the tea kettle and a listening ear. Maybe the do-gooder in me is overestimating how much of an emotional stake others put in their leaders and icons, but heroes set the bar for what we believe is possible. When they let us down, they call into question our belief in ourselves.
Tarana Burke’s #MeToo movement has emboldened women and survivors to speak up and speak out with unprecedented conviction against sexual violence and misogyny, exposing injustice across industries, social classes, and nations. How history remembers #MeToo remains unsettled, but the downfall of powerful, esteemed men will be one of the movement’s most visible legacies.
Of all those whose reputation has rightfully been forever tarnished by sexual assault allegations, perhaps no man had built a brand more centered around peace and humanitarianism than two-time Costa Rican President and 1987 Nobel Peace Prize Winner Oscar Arias. This month, nine women have come forward with accusations of sexual misconduct, forcing Ticos to grapple with how a man who played an integral role in ending violent civil conflicts across Central America could simultaneously violate women’s bodies. For decades, Costa Ricans have put their unwavering faith in Arias to champion their values on the international stage. Disavowing his actions is part of moving forward, but citizens are bound to be left with doubts about their country’s status as a moral standard bearer in the region.
An ocean away in Myanmar, the ethics of another Nobel Peace Prize Winner and national icon have been under investigation of late. It was not long ago that many Western leaders were touting Myanmar as a major democratic success story, thanks in no small part to Aung San Suu Kyi’s amiability, Oxford education, and human rights record. In the eyes of many, Suu Kyi belonged on the same pedestal as Gandhi and MLK for her non-violent campaigns for peace and democracy, and she epitomized poised female leadership.
Her silence and subsequent unwillingness to condemn militant actors in the midst of genocidal persecution and displacement of Rohingya Muslims has worn much of the shine off her sterling reputation. From what I understand, historical ethnic tensions and a stifling military influence on government affairs left Suu Kyi’s hands somewhat tied as her nation’s de facto leader. Nevertheless, the optics on over 10,000 deaths and hundreds of thousands of refugees fleeing are awfully damning. Our heroes should make us proud, not apologetic.
The nomadic consultant lifestyle features frequent opportunities for podcast bingeing. One of my latest undertakings, The Dropout, details the rise and fall of Elizabeth Holmes and her company Theranos, a blood test and wellness company that was primed to revolutionize healthcare and save countless lives. Holmes won over backers all across Silicon Valley; they wanted to believe in the benefit to humanity she was overpromising and in the superhuman persona she was meticulously projecting.
The world is crying out for more female representation in the upper echelons of tech and business, and for an instant, Holmes looked the most likely to lean into the Bezos-Buffett-Gates-Jobs-Musk-Zuckerberg pantheon of power players. However, the same confidence and drive that fast-tracked Holmes towards greatness ultimately fueled Theranos’ and her undoing. An inflated ego blinded her from recognizing when cunning risk taking spiraled into deceitful recklessness. Once a paragon for what women in STEM could accomplish, Holmes now faces up to 20 years in prison– hardly exemplary role modeling.
Lastly, the tale of Oscar Pistorius showcases both the pinnacles of human resilience and the fragility of human life. South Africa’s “Blade Runner” set the world alight at the 2012 Olympics in London, becoming the first double-leg amputee to participate in the Games. Pistorius overcame a fibular birth defect that required amputation of both legs to not only dominate Paralympic sprinting events, but hold his own against able bodied competitors, culminating in his being chosen to carry the South African flag at the Olympic closing ceremonies.
Tragically, on Valentine’s Day 2013, Cupid was not the only one shooting overzealously. In the early hours of the morning, Pistorius fired four bullets through his bathroom door, killing his girlfriend, model Reeva Steenkamp, who he claims he mistook for an intruder. The legal proceedings that followed became a highly publicized and drawn out spectacle, an initial culpable homicide conviction later being overturned in favor of a murder conviction. One erratic outburst in which Pistorius’ anxiety and temper flared in tandem leaves the world’s preeminent physically disabled man behind bars until 2023 at the earliest. He gives the phrase “anything is possible” a distinctly ominous tone.
The cases of Arias, Kyi, Holmes, and Pistorius spark an Alfred Lord Tennyson-inspired debate: is it better to have heroes and lose them than to never have heroes at all? This question feels quite personal, but I will pose it to you to reflect on. Is so your life so enriched by the inspiration others provide that you are willing to assume the risk of them disappointing you?
In Part 2 of this post in the next issue, I will profile individuals that more of us should adopt as heroes. I have a few in mind, and I want to hear from you about who else I should include.