strongArmed

In real life, I work in training and development. I'm the guy at the front of the room, doing his best to teach you and entertain you while you sit there and doodle or check your phone. I mostly train other people's material, by which I mean someone else writes the stuff and I deliver it - although I like to think that I add value, somewhere along the way.

In the past, some of the material I've taught has used Lance Armstrong as an example. Of course, when the material was first written, when I first used it, we didn't know what we know now. Like a lot of (most?) other people, I believed the hype - the lie - that Armstrong was special. I believed that his success was down to ruthless focus and dedication, an intensity and focus that other riders didn't possess: a minute focus on details and relentless training. All of that was correct, I guess: his success was down to those things. And, you know, the drugs. Vast, vast quantities of drugs. In fact, if you look at it in one way, Armstrong was an even better example than we realised, taking his preparation and dedication further than we knew at the time.

Now, at this point, I too must come clean: you be Oprah and I'll squeeze out a tear or two. Like Armstrong I have also used performance enhancing drugs. I've done my job under the influence of, at various times: tea, coffee, Pro-Plus, Beechams powders, Nurofen, Day Nurse and, on one memorable occasion, all of the above at the same time.  All of which have enhanced my performance to a degree. I personally think that Armstrong's use of drugs doesn't actually detract that much from his achievement - after all, he wasn't the only cyclist on drugs and it takes more than pharmacology to win the Tour De France. You couldn't, for instance, dose me up and expect me to win! I'm not excusing the drug use. It was illegal and he was cheating (and, by the way, "everyone else was doing it so it wasn't cheating" doesn't really wash, Lance) and there's no way around that: I merely point out that it doesn't make seven wins any less of an achievement. And he did it after beating cancer, for which I suspect he also took a drug or two.

No, the thing that upsets me the most about the whole situation is what all this has revealed about Armstrong's - and my - character. About him, it's not so much the flexible ethics towards drugs or even the lying - after all, once you start down that path, lies are pretty much a part of the deal. It's the nature of the lie - the self-aggrandizement, the myth of the courageous cancer-survivor, taking on the drugs cheats and winning clean, the insistence that those who didn't believe the story were poorer in spirit for not believing in miracles. And that's before we get to the bullying and threats and intimidation, the spiteful, vindictive and destructive way Armstrong dealt with those who sought to reveal the truth. And, of course, the fact that he made a fortune off the back of the lie he span, while honest cyclists lost out.

Are those "sins" grander in scale than, say, Mike Tyson's conviction for rape? Of course not. So why so I feel nothing but contempt and disgust for Tyson but feel so let down by Armstrong? The reason lies, I think, in my character and in the character of all those who feel the same way.

I believed his lie because I wanted to believe it: I wanted to believe in the miracle. It was a triumph of the human spirit story, evidence that anything was possible, that individuals could overcome their history and their limitations and achieve greatness. And I want to believe that's true - I want to believe that human beings don't need divine intervention or chance or luck to succeed: I want to believe that effort and work and determination will do it and, for a long time, Armstrong was proof of that.  I guess the fact is I, and everyone else who believed, wanted it to be true so much that we turned a blind eye to the possibility that it might just be too good to be true. We didn't question it too hard because we wanted to believe; we made ourselves gullible. It's a mistake we probably won't make again.

Armstrong hasn't let me or you or anyone else down unless you were the direct victim of his deceit or a lawsuit. But he has, I'm afraid, made us all that little bit more cynical and because of that the world is a little bit poorer.

Incoherent

I have never been made to feel afraid because of my gender or the colour of my skin.  I have never had anyone think I was their property, or that I was less than human.  I have never been assaulted, or touched or groped or fondled by strangers, or chased down the street by people who wanted to hurt me just because of who I was.  I have never experienced prejudice or racism or sexism.  I have never been afraid to leave my house for fear of how “normal” society would react.  

For all those things I can be called privileged and I would call myself fortunate.  I have, as a teenager, been bullied so I know a small fraction of the experience that some people in society feel.  I was told I was bullied because I was tall and weak and awkward and wore glasses and was nerdy and was socially inept and for a dozen other reasons: actually I was bullied because the people who bullied me were thoughtless, callous, cruel and lacking in empathy. It had nothing to do with me being any of those things – the bullied are not to blame for their bullying.

From a distance, I’ve been watching this whole Suzanne Moore, Julie Burchill, trans debate and I’ve also become increasingly aware of a number of articles from women about the sexism they face every day.  It seems to me that this is all bullying, plain and simple.  It disgusts me the way some people in society are treated: it disgusts me that half of our planet live in partial fear and subjugation by the other half.  I am the father of a little boy and the step-father to a little girl, so I suppose I’m becoming increasingly conscious of both sides of this, especially the pressure that society – by which I mean we, as men – put women under. I don’t think any twelve year old should compare herself to the women they see in the media – impossible, idealised, airbrushed – and judge herself fat or ugly.

Society is made up of minorities – we are all part of a minority of some description. Seeing certain minorities bullied saddens and sickens me. I don’t have to be trans, or gay, or a woman, or disabled, or coloured or a member of any other minority to understand that minorities can be bullied or to empathise with the problems they face.  I don’t have to be particularly intelligent to understand that some people who live on the intersection of those minorities can feel that they are being bullied from a number of sides. I don’t need to be anything other than a human being to understand and empathise with and care about their experience.

I’m sorry this is so incoherent.  I don’t really have a point to make here or even if I have a point at all; I wish I could tie all this up with a neat bow or a glib ending. But I can’t because I can’t see any way out of this.  Increasingly, the news reflects a lack of empathy in society that terrifies me; increasingly, we seem to care less and less, as a society, for those who are less equipped to care for themselves; increasingly we seem to care less and less, as a society, for those who are left behind by Darwinian capitalism.  Increasing we, as a society, are becoming thoughtless, callous, cruel and lacking in empathy.  We are becoming bullies.