In Defense of God: Faith in an Age of Unbelief

This provocative cover story in Time magazine on April 8, 1966, paraphrasing 19th century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, reported on the death-of-God movement then prevalent in certain liberal seminaries and which reflected the growing secularization of Western society. From slightly different perspectives, in the decades leading up to the 1960's, Christians and Jews alike were directly confronting a basic theological problem of modern man – the reality of God – a concept with which people of all faiths continue to struggle. For many Christians, the basic premise of their faith – that of a personal God who created the world and sustains it with love – was being attacked by an increasingly secular society. For many Jews, the concept of a loving God was impossible to fathom in the face of Auschwitz. Nietzsche contended that the self-centeredness of man had killed God, a thesis that has tantalized believers and non-believers ever since; the very notion compels us to reflect on the meaning of existence. “If you want to have a well-attended lecture,” Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel once said, “discuss God and faith.”

God’s existence has been questioned more recently in the best-selling books God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything by Christopher Hitchens (Allen & Unwin 2007), and The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt 2006), and in Bill Maher’s documentary, Religulous. Hitchens, an avowed atheist, recently participated in a debate in Christianity Today with Reformed pastor Douglas Wilson, a senior fellow of theology at New Saint Andrews College in Moscow, Idaho. Although I care little for Hitchens and do not share Wilson’s brand of evangelical Christianity, their debate – concerning whether religion in general, and Christianity in particular, is good for the world – was intriguing, if in large part frustrating, as neither man addressed directly the essence of the conflict.

I do not claim knowledge of one true way, nor do I believe that any one religion has a claim to ultimate truth. I was raised as a Christian in a mainline Protestant denomination – the son of a Lutheran minister, I was baptized and confirmed as a Lutheran. Although I struggle with many aspects of traditional Christian doctrine, I continue to feel an invisible pull in the direction of my Lutheran roots. I do not quite understand Born Again Christians, who seem to require a sudden, inexplicable conversion experience to be a legitimately “saved” member of the tribe, and I have little tolerance for fundamentalists of any variety. My children were raised in the faith tradition of their mother – as Reform Jews – a movement within liberal Judaism which I greatly admire, with its emphasis on social justice and ethical action, and openness to theological questioning and spiritual exploration. I believe that God is revealed in infinite ways, befitting a people as diverse as humanity.

I respect those who disavow any belief in a deity, but I confess to a bias in favor of God; I struggle at times, perhaps unfairly, with the sincerity of those who insist that God does not exist. Intellectually and conceptually, I understand why some people do not accept God’s existence; in an age of skepticism, denial of God is rational. In the traditional sense, there is no firm proof that God exists – certainly nothing that can be proven in a court of law or to the satisfaction of a panel of scientists. Yet I maintain a deep and abiding belief in God. It is not something I can easily explain, for it is connected to my faith in God, a God of understanding, forgiveness and compassion, whose omniscient spirit is everlasting and ever present. Though I do not believe that God actively intervenes in this world, when my heart is open, I can feel God’s spirit. I have no proof of this fact. The non-religious may contend that my beliefs are merely psychological manifestations of child-like desires, a remnant of my youthful indoctrinations. Hitchens and company may suggest that my belief in God is but an infantile fantasy, but I am convinced that God is actively present in my life and the life of this world.

My faith is of a modern variety. I accept all scientific advances and explanations for the manner in which the universe functions. I accept that human beings evolved over millions of years out of less developed species; that a Big Bang or similar celestial occurrence physically formed the universe; and that we each have unique DNA. I am amused by people who point to our advancement in scientific knowledge as proof that God does not exist, that religion has no place in modern life. I do not understand those who believe, because of the infallibility of religious institutions and the historical evil some humans have perpetrated in the name of religion – that God, therefore, is a figment of our imagination. Too many people simplistically conclude that, if God truly existed, there would be no evil, no suffering in this world. But that conclusion is premised on the notion of God as master puppeteer, with control over all aspects of our lives and fates. If God had the power to change the course of human events, I too would have trouble with a God that allowed slavery and genocide, torture and war. With the miracle of life, we have been granted the gift of free will; how we live our life, how we treat others, what choices we make in life, is up to us. I believe that a part of God dies with each act of human cruelty; God cannot prevent human suffering, but rather suffers along with us.

There is a scene in Night, Elie Wiesel’s powerful memoir as a teenager in a Nazi concentration camp, in which he recounts the hanging of a young boy at Auschwitz, a vision for which he has been haunted ever since. Wiesel watched as the SS placed a noose around the boy’s neck, then kicked the chair from beneath his feet. “For more than half an hour he stayed there, struggling between life and death, dying in slow agony under our eyes. . . . Behind me, I heard [a] man asking, ‘Where is God now?’ And I heard a voice within me answer him: ‘Where is he? Here He is – He is hanging here on this gallows.”

That God is within all of us, that we are all children of God, is what makes sense to me. The quest for God is in the depth of our experience. As Jesus told his Apostles, “The Kingdom of God is within you.” This anonymous presence of God is manifested in the account of the Last Judgment in Matthew 25:41, in which Jesus explains metaphorically that, in denying food to the hungry and drink to the thirsty, in not welcoming the stranger, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.”

I am neither a theologian nor a scientist; I cannot engage in biblical exegesis, or wax philosophical about the history of the world’s religions, provide intricate psychological explanations, or site to medical and scientific experiments. But when I walk among the stars; when I stare at the moon on a warm summer evening; when I acknowledge the beautiful life presence of my two daughters, I experience God’s presence. When I observe the joy in a young child's heart over the embrace of a grandparent; when I watch the trees sway back and forth on a breezy fall day, and feel the moistness of the ocean at my feet; when I experience all of these things, and the multitude of ordinary everyday events, I see, first-hand, evidence of God’s existence.

Secularization and science have made it difficult to speak of and about God in a rational, convincing manner. Science is masterful at explaining what happens and how. Science has yet to explain why. The ultimate question for us all as human beings is, or should be, why are we here? For what purpose? Is there any meaning in life? What happens when we die? For atheists like Christopher Hitchens and Bill Maher, the answer is nothing – you live, you die, you cease to exist. Make the most of your life while here on earth – your legacy is what you leave behind. But there is no higher calling from which to draw sustenance, no true purpose to life. Hitchens and Maher may be rational, highly intelligent men, but I find their conclusions deeply empty and, ultimately, irrational. If we are nothing but an evolving mass of molecular biology with no higher purpose, if we have no spiritual essence, then why do we have a sense of morality, of right and wrong, of compassion and caring? Why do we struggle against hatreds, prejudices, and violent dispositions? Why are we here in the first place, and where are we headed?

Theologian Harvey Cox of Harvard Divinity School asked in 1965, “Is it the loss of the experience of God, the loss of the existence of God in Christianity, or the lack of adequate language to express God today?” Perhaps it is all of those things. As described by the late Episcopal theologian John Macquarrie, “Faith in God is more than an intellectual belief. It is a total attitude of the self.” I understand what Macquarrie meant, though it does not translate well into a mode of scientific analysis.

Advances in science and our knowledge of the workings of the universe have required that religions adjust their thinking on the relationship between scripture, history, symbolism, and fact. Those who continue to insist on a literal interpretation of scripture cannot reasonably reconcile their biblical perspectives with modern day knowledge; for them, faith and reason will forever be at odds. For the more progressive branches of Christianity, and all but the most ultra-orthodox branches of Judaism, faith in God has survived scientific attack through the realization that, in the words of Harvard theologian Krister Stendahl, the Bible is “poetry-plus, rather than science-minus.”

Modern science has vastly expanded our knowledge of the universe such that we now can trace its origins to billions of light years ago. Yet despite the ever expanding human capacity for knowledge, superior technology and analytical skills, science has yet to disprove divine creation or find definitive answers. Even the most skeptical scientist must acknowledge the possibility of God; many of the most accomplished of scientists have never doubted God’s existence. For me, the evidence of God’s presence is all around us; proof that God does not exist has yet to be offered.

Faith will always require an irrational leap in the dark. There may well be no true faith without some measure of doubt; perhaps this is the ultimate gift of God.

In Search of an American Hero: The Mixed Legacy of Ralph Nader

I recently attended a lecture by Ralph Nader at the Free Library of Philadelphia. Ever since I first saw him speak at Wittenberg University in 1979, I have enjoyed listening to Nader. It is hard not to admire his fierce commitment to the public interest, one motivated by an adherence, not to a rigid ideology or political philosophy, but to a passion for right and wrong, a sense of justice, and a commitment to the facts. Love him or hate him, he speaks truth to power and backs it up with research, factual data, and hard work. Before dirtying himself in presidential politics, he was Sir Ralph, patron saint of the American consumer, spokesman for the public interest, a watchdog for the little guy. He has devoted his life to making the American economy safer, healthier, more competitive, more informed, and more open. A man of immense intellect – possessed of a near genius-level IQ, most people who have worked for Nader consider him the single most intelligent man they ever met – he has the ability to consume huge amounts of information and retain every word with near-encyclopedic accuracy. Not surprisingly, his positions and arguments are backed by extensive research and analysis.

Inspired by his talk, last week I watched An Unreasonable Man, a well crafted, entertaining documentary produced in 2007, which revealed Nader in all his complexity. Although part of me remains angry at Nader for costing Al Gore the presidency in 2000 (Nader received over 97,000 votes in Florida, a state Gore lost by 537 votes), the film helped resurrect my earlier view of Nader, the one that sees him not as presidential spoiler and naive politician, but as the citizen crusader. Unafraid of challenging wrongs perpetrated by the largest, most powerful institutions of American society, Nader has done battle with General Motors, the nuclear power industry, Congress, government bureaucracies, corporate fat cats, corrupt trade unions, huge media conglomerates, and both major political parties.

What makes Nader so endearing is his complete embrace of American virtues and founding principles. More than any other social critic and political activist in my lifetime, Nader believes uniquely in America’s most deeply treasured values – free enterprise, the genius of small business, competition, openness in government, the free flow of information. He has devoted his life to increasing citizen participation, advancing democracy, and laying the foundation for an informed consumer. Big business claims to favor free enterprise, but Nader fights for laws and regulations – and, where needed, a lack of regulation – that promote competition. Thus, where laissez faire policies fail to adequately protect the consumer, or all citizens, he advocates increased regulation that addresses the shortcomings of capitalism. Left to their own devices, corporate interests will not incur added costs to avoid polluting the air and water, or to provide a safe workplace or a safe product; only if forced to do so – by threat of lawsuits, or pursuant to regulation and law – will it happen. Conversely, where economic regulation of markets has artificially limited competition, such as occurred in the airline and trucking industries in the 1970’s, Nader was instrumental in achieving deregulation, thus enhancing price competition in industries that had become too cozy.

In 1965, Nader published Unsafe at Any Speed, a fact-based, thoroughly researched book which exposed the careless and negligent operation of the U.S. automobile industry. Nader demonstrated that the auto manufacturers, in the interest of mass production and increased sales, designed cars with an eye on style, cost, and performance with little regard for safety. To the (mostly) men in the C-suites, it seemed not to matter that every year cars were involved in five million accidents, 40,000 deaths, 110,000 permanent disabilities, and 1.5 million injuries on America’s roads and highways. Nader proved that auto crashes need not be deadly and that many injuries could easily be avoided by minor and inexpensive design changes. In the beginning, Nader was virtually alone in addressing the issue and, despite the best efforts of General Motors (whose covert efforts to dig up dirt on Nader failed miserably), he proved that one person, acting intelligently, honestly, armed with facts and persistence, can make a difference.

When Nader took on the U.S. auto industry in the early 1960’s, it was not to dismantle capitalism or the American corporation, but to make it better. He recognized that corporate decisions were made with an exclusive focus on the bottom line – profits – and that spending money on safety and health was treated as an expense that produced no revenue. Why would any rational businessman, motivated by the desire to maximize profits, spend money on safety or clean air unless required by law to do so? Nader’s self-avowed agenda was to bring about the “qualitative reform of the Industrial Revolution,” not to harm American economic enterprise, but to improve it, by making it more competitive and responsive to the consumer. Nader understood that safety was something consumers clearly wanted but were not offered, in part due to a lack of competition (in the 1960’s, the auto industry was dominated by the Big Three – General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler – for which competition in the true sense was mostly non-existent). As a result of Nader’s persistence and growing influence, motor vehicle safety laws were enacted that required seat belts and, eventually, air bags; shatterproof windshields; safer steering wheel designs; softer, more flexible visors; and many other safety features now taken for granted. Virtually every car on the market today – domestic and foreign – includes in its marketing efforts an emphasis on safety, as car manufacturers compete not just over price and design, but safety and crash worthiness as well. The auto industry fought Nader every step of the way, but in 1977, Henry Ford II conceded on Meet the Press, “We wouldn’t have the kinds of safety built into automobiles that we have had unless there had been a federal law.”

Following his success in transforming the American auto industry, Nader focused his attention on other forms of corporate abuse, from hazardous drugs to deceptive advertising, price fixing to product obsolescence, energy wasting appliances to unsafe food additives; the list goes on and on. Although his name is rarely uttered with glee in the C-suites and boardrooms of American corporations, Nader’s positive influence on corporate governance and responsible corporate citizenship is undeniable. Today, the concept of corporate social responsibility is a part of every major American business.

Nader by all accounts has led a priestly life. His personal life, if he has one, is secondary. He demands complete loyalty to his causes, most of which do not pay well. Yet he continues to have many devoted followers who greatly admire his ethical purity, independence, and commitment to justice. He bases his arguments and tactics on hard facts, solid research, and rational, sound arguments. This is why he has been so effective – no one questions his motives, or whether he possesses some hidden financial objective or conflict of interest.

Yet I cannot help but wonder if Nader is blinded by his purity. When he insisted on running for President in 2000 – costing the Democrats the White House – and then feebly repeating his mistake in 2004 – he did much damage to his reputation and his causes. The cadre of public interest organizations that he created, funded, and helped give wings to, were greatly harmed when he chose to muddy himself in the political arena. For regardless of the issues he hoped to advance, and the causes he espoused, he appeared to be advancing Ralph Nader at the expense of America; his independence and selfless sacrifices for justice were no longer his compelling traits. Although it is difficult to come up with a political position he took, or a statement he made, to which I vehemently disagreed, his mere presence in the political arena caused great, and very predictable damage. Some of his most loyal, dedicated public interest employees resigned, the influence of his many public interest organizations weakened, and funding dried up.

Most importantly, his candidacy made likely – some would say inevitable – exactly what he had spent his whole life fighting against, as he filtered votes away from the Democrats, helping Bush win in 2000. If not for Nader’s candidacy, the argument goes, we would not have had the War in Iraq, the degradation of the constitution, the ballooning federal deficits, the abuses at Guantanamo Bay. But to this day, Nader is unrepentant. He correctly notes that Gore failed to carry even his home state of Tennessee, and that his censorship of Bill Clinton contributed to his loss of Arkansas (had Gore won either of those states, he would have won the election). In An Unreasonable Man, Nader contends that Gore (and Bush) needed to earn their votes, and that Gore, by moderating his views on certain key issues and catering to the corporate interests so dominant in the Democratic Party today, became virtually indistinguishable from Bush. Gore lost on his own far more votes than Nader could possibly have taken from him.

Nader correctly notes that Gore ran a poor campaign, but to suggest there was no difference between the two candidates, and to take no responsibility for Bush’s win in Florida, is to ignore reality. As intelligent and ethical a man as Ralph Nader is, his insistence on democratic purity and saintliness harmed the nation. Nader insists that his running for president was not to advance his reputation or public profile – in fact, it had the opposite effect – but to pressure the two major parties to discuss the real issues that needed addressing. His fault lie not in his motives, but in his naive belief that it was his place to do so.

Politics is often referred to as the Art of the Possible. Compromise and negotiation are ever present; principles abide only so long as winning does not get in the way. For the Democrats, this usually means suppressing the advocacy of effective gun control laws, compromising on national health insurance or its lesser component, the public option, and failing to insist on fundamental principles of economic and social justice in the tax code and the allocation of federal resources. This is to avoid offending swing voters, investment bankers, and corporate contributors. Although frustrating, in the real world of American politics, it is a necessary component of a winning formula. As a Democrat, I accept that compromise and the bending of principle is necessary to win elections and govern; it is part of the process. If you disregard pragmatism, you risk losing and accomplishing nothing. Some principles – fundamental human rights, the pursuit of peace and security – cannot be compromised, but there are many others that, in the day-to-day reality of political life, require flexibility and accepting less than the ideal.

For Nader, however, principle is everything – the cause is what matters, and anything or anybody that stands in the way of advancing the cause is to be defeated, even at the expense of smaller advancements. American society – all societies – need their share of Ralph Naders, those who provide an independent and powerful voice for citizens who, for lack of money, power, and access, are dismissed as irrelevant. Nader has certainly left his mark on American society. He not only created the consumer movement in this country, attracting a large following without any significant organization, but he also inspired the creation of similar movements in many countries around the world. He is not, and never has been, a man of privilege; his father was an immigrant and self-made man, an entrepreneur, small businessman, one who embraced and was driven by the American work ethic. Nader embraced the values of his father. He is the ultimate altruist, humble, self-sacrificing, possessed of an arrogance that permits him not to care about what others think of him. Nader is a man of consistency, one who acts for what he believes to be the greater good with little concern for how others perceive him. In this and many ways, he is an unusual man. His legacy will endure in the everyday improvements he has made to American life, law, and public policy. But his insistence on saintly purity in the elections of 2000 and 2004, and possibly in ways yet to be determined, will forever taint that legacy.

Life as a Cardinals Fan: Of Hope and Heartbreak

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. ~A. Bartlett Giamatti, November 1977

For those who know me well, it will come as no surprise that, at around 9:15 p.m. on Thursday night (October 8, 2009), I suffered a bit of a meltdown. You see, Matt Holliday dropped a fly ball. Not just any fly ball, mind you, but the routine, right-into-the-glove sort of fly ball that, on any other night, would have been caught, the final touch of a 2-1 Cardinals win. It was the bottom of the ninth inning in Game Two of the National League Division Series and the Cardinals were one out away from tying the series and sending it back to St. Louis. But then James Loney of the Dodgers hit a routine, soft fly ball directly at Holliday in left field. As the television camera panned on Holliday, the baseball sailed in his immediate direction, the game all but over; my fist was pumped, as Hannah (my daughter, and fellow Cards fanatic) and I were ready to celebrate the win with our customary high fives and fist knocks. Then Holliday dropped the ball. He tripped and fell face first to the ground, the ball dribbling away and rolling on the outfield grass like a live grenade, as Loney skidded safely into second. The rest is history. Ryan Franklin walked the next batter, yielded a game-tying single, walked another batter, and then gave up the game winning single to a 38-year old, washed up journeyman named Mark Loretta. I suffered a meltdown. I may have yelled a few profanities, I really don’t remember, my mind is a blank. In the immortal words of Jimmy Hoffa, “My memory fails to recall my recollection.”

The Cardinals had a surprisingly good season this year, winning 91 games with a team expected to finish no better than fourth place in their division. They are a resilient group, with solid pitching, good defense, scrappy determination, and Albert Pujols, the best player in all of baseball. They started strong and, come July, added stars to their arsenal – Matt Holliday, Mark DeRosa, and Julio Lugo – which turned this seemingly mediocre bunch into not just pennant contenders, but favorites. But then Holliday dropped the ball. In the words of Chuck Tanner, “It’s hard to win a pennant, but it’s harder losing one.” I know far too well exactly what that means.

Books are written and movies made of the long suffering Red Sox fans, those poor souls who went 86 years without a championship; the Eastern Establishment and Hollywood glitterati have a soft spot for Red Sox Nation. Famous literary and political figures the world over profess an allegiance to that formerly cursed franchise. But Red Sox Nation has nothing on me. I live in Cardinal Nation – a soulful place where only the faithful dare dwell.

Cardinal fans are considered the best, most loyal fans in the country. We’re polite to a fault – we don’t gratuitously boo and throw objects at opposing players like they do in Philadelphia. In St. Louis, oceans of red swarm to the ballpark every night. One mustn’t be fooled, however, by our wholesome, Midwestern airs. Unlike Red Sox fans – and not to be too technical, but Cubs fans as well – who expect a black cat to show up when the season is on the line, or for the ball to roll through the legs of their aging first basemen, we expect to win. The Cardinals have had just enough historical success to create an expectation of winning. This is what sets us apart. We know we should win, that God is quietly on our side, that the world is not right if the Cardinals lose. But unlike those spoiled Yankees fans, for us, disappointment and despair are always one pitch away. It is only when you know that you are good enough to win, that you should win – when victory is within your grasp – and then, with two outs in the ninth, Holliday drops the ball and your All-Star closer suddenly forgets how to pitch, as four straight Dodgers reach base and turn certain victory into a devastating loss – only then have you truly suffered!

I have often thought that, when I retire, I will move to the Promised Land – uh, St. Louis, that is. No one in my family can quite understand this. After all, I am from New Jersey. No one told me when I was six years old that you were supposed to root for the home team. In second grade, we studied birds, and I fell in love with the cardinal, his bright red feathers accenting the smart, black trim around his beak. Then I discovered baseball, the smell of leather, the clean grip of the seams, the crisp sound of a wooden bat striking a hard, round ball, and the hopefulness of spring. A bond was created. The Cardinals won the World Series that year (against the Red Sox when the curse of Ruth still hovered over the harbors of Boston), and I was forever hooked. I knew then that my heart and soul lie along the Mississippi near the Gateway Arch, in the land of Gibson, Brock, and Musial.

Al Gallagher, who played four seasons for the San Francisco Giants in the early 1970’s, once said, “There are three things in my life which I really love: God, my family, and baseball. The only problem - once baseball season starts, I change the order around a bit.” I do have another life – as a lawyer, father, and citizen. But during baseball season, all else is secondary. The quality of my day is reflected in last night’s box score, my spiritual and emotional well-being affected by the outcome of each game. There may be a complex explanation for all of this, and it would probably take a team of psychologists to figure all the ramifications. Until then, I will obsess over Holliday missing that fly ball, re-playing it over in my mind until I am convinced that he really caught it, that the Cardinals are still headed to the World Series. Perhaps someday I will grow up, develop perspective, finally realize that baseball is only a game, a pastime, a place of pastoral beauty, symmetry, and timeless perfection intended to soothe a weary soul. Then again, I think of Rogers Hornsby, the great Cardinals second basemen who hit .424 in 1924, who said, “People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.”

The Meaning of Fifty: A Personal Reflection

Knowing there's only so much time, I don't rejoice less but more. Knowing how many things will now not happen, I wish them Godspeed and pass them on to someone down the line. I honor my regrets, the part of me that never happened or happened wrong and proceed on course though the course is not known. Only the end is known and some days it's a comfort. We live on love, whether it's there or not and rejoice in it even in its absence. If I had known, I'd have come here better equipped - but that's another one of those things you can't change - as we can't alter that part of us that lives on memory, knowing all the while that time is not real and that what we are we never were in the light of that timeless place where we really belong, have belonged always. . . .

Albert Huffstickler (“Don't Ask The Angels How They Fly”)

I turned fifty this year, about six months ago, when no one was looking. For most people, fifty is the Big One, a momentous occasion to celebrate with a large party, or perhaps a life-changing trip to some exotic land. I chose instead a quiet day of normalcy – a long walk, baseball on television, and some time with my kids. I do not typically draw a lot of attention to myself and thus share news of my birthday with a select few, carefully eschewing work related recognitions and public displays of singing, but I was particularly adamant about not doing anything special for my fiftieth. I had celebrated my 30th and 40th birthdays with greater fanfare, marking those milestones in traditionally appropriate ways, although I did not really believe them significant, certainly not to the extent attributed by Hallmark and polite society. When I turned 30, the sense of impending adulthood beckoning, I joked of turning old, but I never doubted that I remained in the prime of my youth, my physical and athletic abilities intact, the possibilities of life seemingly limitless. Time was on my side – time to travel the world, write the great American novel, and pursue my dreams.

I was more contemplative ten years later, when I turned 40. With mouths to feed and bills to pay, career pressures mounting, I could no longer dream of frivolous adventures, my hours filled with the obligations of work and family. By age 40 it seemed, true adulthood had finally arrived. There was no turning back, the crutch of youth and inexperience no longer an excuse for mistakes or passivity. Yet in mind and spirit, I remained forever young, my jump shot still arcing through the net during my weekly basketball games, and my importance to the world seemingly acknowledged by the prestige and recognition associated with an advancing career. My hope of unfilled dreams still shined with optimism.

It was not until I turned 50 earlier this year, marking my half-century existence on this planet, that I sensed for the first time that certain of my dreams may forever be deferred, that time is a gift, its limits felt with the passing of each year. Though it seems as if I need constant reminding that I am no longer a young man, fresh from law school, determined to accomplish high-minded things, I remain confident and sure of myself about certain matters, full of doubts and insecurities about others. But I now recognize and feel, gradually, incrementally, the burdens of aging – the chronic back pain, the cranky joints, the perpetually tight muscles. And while I hope to live to 114, while taking long walks and watching the sunset with my great-grandchildren as I sit on the deck of my lakeside house and complete the final touches on my memoirs, I know now that life is not forever. Mortality awaits me and, for the first time in my life, I am truly aware of its dimensions. This is not necessarily a bad thing, for it forces one to recognize the truly important things in life – family, relationships, closeness with God, and the true meaning of success. As Albert Huffstickler wrote, “Knowing there's only so much time, I don't rejoice less but more.”

I have on my refrigerator a well-known poem, usually attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, though perhaps originating in a work by Bessie Stanley, on success. It is one of those poems that, while perhaps a bit cliché, is profoundly true, and thus a source of inspiration:

To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch . . . to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.

I have been blessed with good health, two beautiful children, a wonderful woman in my life, and a terrific family. Such blessings, I have come to learn, are determined as much by luck as any actions on our part, something that I believe most of us fail to recognize during our lifetimes. Many of those who fail in life start with a bad deck handed them – a fatherless childhood, the lack of role models, unsafe neighborhoods; some people are struck by illness, the death of a loved one, the pain of addiction, or the humiliation of unemployment and rejection. We all fail at something – indeed, most of us fail to live out our dreams or even to try, choosing instead the comfort and security of routine and all things familiar. How we respond to failure, our willingness to try a second and third time, to strive for perfection knowing we may never achieve anything close, this is how success in life is achieved, and how character is formed.

When my first marriage ended in failure, my children assumed even greater importance to me, their happiness and health tied immeasurably to that of mine. I have often wondered whether, given the chance to re-do portions of my life with the benefit of hindsight, I would have made different choices. But with age comes, I hope, some small tidbits of wisdom, including the acknowledgement that life permits no reruns and that the ability to forgive others for their mistakes, and yourself for your own, is spiritually and emotionally liberating. We must come to terms with our choices in life, the luck we are dealt, and the skills we have and are able to develop. Then do the best we can. My time remaining on this planet is likely less than the time already expended, but my destiny and the legacy I leave for my children and anyone else who may benefit, is in my hands. My only limits are time, fear, and imagination.

When I was nine-years old, I would lie on the grass in my backyard and stare at the sky, admiring the cloud formations, the richness of the unending image of blue, and the tranquility of the evening’s first twilight stars. I do not remember everything it was I used to contemplate as I lay with my head pressed against the ground, my mind deep in thought, escaping in sight and mind the pressures of life. Even at this young age, I can recall the burdens of life’s self-imposed expectations – to do well in school, to succeed in sports, to be liked and accepted by my peers. Maybe it was the solitude of space I was attracted to as I lay staring at the uppermost boundaries of heaven. Was there really a heaven, a dwelling place for God and his angels, I would contemplate as the first evening star sparkled its way through the darkening sky. Is there life on other planets? Has God assigned a purpose to my life here on earth? The universe held me in awe, inspiring my imagination until the call for supper abruptly intervened.

I do not remember the last time I lay on the grass staring up at the sky. It is unfortunate, really, for the sky has such a profound wisdom to it, an innate ability to put things in perspective, to keep us humble and remind us of greater truths for which we lack understanding. Life is too short, it whispers, do not overlook its simple pleasures or become embroiled in life’s daily struggles; experience the oceans, walk in the woods, skip stones on a stream, hike in the mountains, love your children, and appreciate your friends. Listen, empathize, show compassion, be generous of spirit, laugh, and love.

Obama at the UN: In Search of FDR's Vision

The structure of world peace cannot be the work of one man, or one party, or one nation. . . . It cannot be a peace of large nations – or of small nations. It must be a peace which rests on the cooperative effort of the whole world.

--Franklin Delano Roosevelt

When Franklin Roosevelt spoke these words in 1944 – the world still at war, embroiled in a struggle between the forces of freedom and tyranny – the United Nations was but a vision resting on the ideals of international cooperation and the belief that the nations of the world could work together to promote peace and foster human rights. Although Roosevelt did not live to see the liberation of Europe and the Allied victory over Japan, his vision of international cooperation was implemented on October 24, 1945, when representatives of 51 countries assembled in San Francisco to sign the UN Charter, thereby formally establishing an organization whose purpose it was to maintain international peace and security, develop friendly relations among nations, and promote respect for human rights. Since its founding, the UN has often fallen short of its ideals, but the international activism of the UN has nevertheless accomplished many positive things consistent with its Charter, including extraordinary acts of humanitarianism – alleviating hunger, preventing disease, and mending broken nations – and contributing greatly to the decline in armed conflict, particularly since the end of the Cold War.

Since its first peacekeeping operation in 1948, when it monitored the Arab-Israeli ceasefire, the UN has implemented 63 peacekeeping missions, many of which have brought stability to previously volatile regions. Its international peacekeeping efforts collectively won a Nobel Peace Prize in 1988, and a 2005 study by the RAND Corporation found that seven out of eight UN peacekeeping missions have successfully maintained the peace, or enforced ceasefires, in areas of major conflict.

The humanitarian efforts of the UN have been even more impressive, reflecting a model of collective world action in efforts to alleviate poverty, hunger and disease through such UN entities as the World Food Programme (which helps feed more than 100 million people a year in 80 countries), the World Health Organization (which implements mass vaccination programs), UNICEF (United Nations Children’s Fund), UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization), and UNAIDS (which treats and helps prevent HIV infections in countries the world over). The UN also provides food and shelter for international refugees and displaced persons rendered homeless due to civil war and famine; monitors international elections in newly democratic states; and promotes economic development in the Third World through such institutions as the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.

Not surprisingly, as an organization dependent on the funding and actions of 192 member nations, some of whom use the UN for political obfuscation, it has a mixed historical record. Subject as it is to infighting and bureaucratic bungling, it has at times been a frustrating, corrupt, and incompetent institution that has disappointed as much as it has helped. Its glaringly unfair treatment of Israel – the only member country ineligible to sit on the United Nations Security Council – has compromised its institutional effectiveness on the Israeli-Palestinian dispute and resulted in a tolerance of anti-Semitism within its walls. And infighting among the Security Council has rendered the UN negligent in several major international crises, its inaction failing to prevent the genocides in Rwanda and Darfur, the massacre in Srebrenica, and mass starvation in Somalia.

Due in part to a philosophical opposition to its mission by conservative elements of the Republican Party, the United States has not always been a strong supporter of the UN; indeed, for eight years under President George W. Bush – who selected as the UN Ambassador a man, John Bolton, who believed in its complete demise – and prior to that, under President Reagan in the 1980’s, the United States failed to pay its bills and worked at times to undermine the UN’s mission. These actions, unfortunately, undermined the moral authority of the United States on many issues of importance, and caused us to lose diplomatic influence and effectiveness on the world stage.

Its imperfections notwithstanding, the UN has done much good in the world, and lacking anything better, it is humanity’s best hope for promoting peace and understanding among nations. It was thus refreshing to hear President Obama’s remarks before the UN General Assembly last Wednesday, in which he defended the ideals of the UN and articulated a vision of international cooperation consistent with that of FDR’s. Obama suggested that “the time has come for the world to move in a new direction,” one that embraces “a new era of engagement based on mutual interest and mutual respect.” He acknowledged that many nations had recently “come to view America with skepticism and distrust,” believing that the United States, on certain critical issues, had “acted unilaterally, without regard for the interests of others,” and he promised that the United States is “determined to act boldly and collectively on behalf of justice and prosperity at home and abroad.” Although the United States will not apologize for defending its interests, both military and economic, “in the year 2009 – more than at any point in human history – the interests of nations and peoples are shared,” whether in the fight against global terrorism, poverty, climate change, or in joint efforts to promote economic growth and prosperity. Obama’s words bespoke a true spirit of cooperation, noting that, while “we come from many places . . . we share a common future.”

Obama embraces an idealism that envisions hope and collective action prevailing over conflict and despair, but he is not naïve. He recognizes that the UN has “sadly, but not surprisingly” become at times “a forum for sowing discord instead of forging common ground; a venue for playing politics and exploiting grievances rather than solving problems.” Obama rightly believes, however, that:

[i]n an era when our destiny is shared, power is no longer a zero-sum game. No one nation can or should try to dominate another nation. No world order that elevates one nation or group of people over another will succeed. No balance of power among nations will hold. The traditional divisions between nations of the South and the North make no sense in an interconnected world; nor do alignments of nations rooted in the cleavages of a long-gone Cold War.

Obama thus imagines “a generation that chooses to see the shoreline beyond the rough waters ahead; that comes together to serve the common interests of human beings, and finally gives meaning to the promises embedded in the name given to this institution: the United Nations.” In his speech to the General Assembly, he identified four pillars that are “fundamental to the future that we want for our children” and which the world must collectively work towards:

• Stopping the spread of nuclear weapons and seeking a world without them. With this, Obama expressed a bold vision that must begin with a strengthening of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, ratification of the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty, and collective efforts to combat nuclear smuggling and theft, for “we must never allow a single nuclear device to fall into the hands of a violent extremist.”

• The pursuit of peace. Obama declared that we must “recognize that the yearning for peace is universal, and reassert our resolve to end conflicts around the world.”

• Preserving our planet. The United States in particular must confront the reality of climate change and enact policies that cut emissions, promote renewable energy and efficiency, and share new technologies around the world.

• Creating a global economy that advances opportunity for all people. Economic growth and prosperity cannot be limited to the rich nations of the world, and we must “set our sights on the eradication of extreme poverty in our time.”

Consistent with his past emphasis on individual responsibility, Obama appealed to the moral imperative of national responsibility, the principle that each nation shares in the obligation to make the ideals underlying the UN Charter a reality. Unlike President Bush and other naysayers of international cooperation, the imperfections of the UN and its past struggles to live up to the principles of its founding are not a reason to walk away, but “a calling to redouble our efforts.” Only by working to create the conditions for genuine dialogue among nations – founded upon mutual respect for the dignity of all human beings and cultures – may the world ever be in a position to resolve outdated grievances, alleviate poverty and hunger, and recognize and enforce universal principles of human rights, including equality, freedom of speech and religion, and the right of people everywhere to determine their own destiny.

As the President reminded the General Assembly, the concept of the United Nations “was rooted in the hard-earned lessons of war; rooted in the wisdom that nations could advance their interests by acting together instead of splitting apart.” I could not agree more. We live in a dangerous world, where the seeds of discontent and conflict are deeply embedded in a complex web of history, religion, culture, and economics. From the threat of a nuclear Iran, to the continued menace of al-Qaeda; from threats of genocide, mass starvation, and civil wars in Africa, to revolutionary fervor in Latin America; from rising HIV infections in Russia and Asia, to a nuclear meltdown between India and Pakistan, the threats we face are daunting and, at times, overwhelming. But if we truly seek to rid the world of nuclear weapons, eliminate global terrorism, wipe out poverty and oppression, and advance the cause of human rights to all nations, we must recognize that none of these goals stand a chance if we act alone and fail to acknowledge our shared humanity. Only if the international community is united in purpose and in action may FDR’s dream of world peace and security ever be realized.

On Norman Borlaug and the Sad Priorities of a Celebrity-Obsessed Culture

The forgotten world is made up primarily of the developing nations, where most of the people, comprising more than fifty percent of the total world population, live in poverty, with hunger as a constant companion and fear of famine a continual menace.
--Norman Borlaug

Saturday, September 12, 2009, marked the passing of Norman Borlaug, an American plant pathologist who won the 1970 Nobel Peace Prize for his work in dramatically increasing food production in developing nations. The founder of the “Green Revolution,” Borlaug is responsible for much of humanity’s progress in defeating world hunger over the past half-century. As declared by the Nobel Committee in awarding Borlaug the Peace Prize, “More than any other single person of this age, he has helped provide bread for a hungry world.” Some believe that Borlaug over his lifetime saved as many as one billion people from starvation and hunger. Due to his work and that of his colleagues on a world scale, food is more plentiful and economical than at any time in history.

A practical humanitarian, starting in the 1940’s, Borlaug applied scientific research in genetics, plant breeding, plant pathology, agronomy, soil science, and cereal technology to revolutionize wheat production in Mexico. His research and development of high-yield technologies enabled Mexico to become self-sufficient in wheat production and paved the way for a rapid increase in many other countries throughout the developing world. Borlaug’s techniques nearly doubled food production in India and Pakistan during a five-year period in the 1960’s, and his applied research has continued to avert famine and hunger in these densely populated countries (forty years later, wheat production in India has increased nearly tenfold from when Borlaug first applied his techniques there).

Borlaug believed that "the first essential component of social justice is adequate food for all mankind" and that "[f]ood is the moral right of all who are born into this world." Following his successes in Mexico, India, and Pakistan, Borlaug began programs throughout Latin America, the Middle East, and other parts of Asia. In the 1980’s, his work greatly increased wheat yields in more than a half dozen countries in sub-Saharan Africa. A professor at Texas A&M University in his later years – he worked out of a windowless office and never sought great privilege or fame – he was a genuine American (and world) hero.

Although Borlaug was a remarkable man, whose life and accomplishments should be celebrated, until I came across Borlaug’s obituary last week, I confess I had never heard of him. And based on a few anecdotal conversations with some well educated friends of mine, I suspect that 99 out of 100 Americans have never heard of him either. I cannot help but wonder, though, if the obscurity of Norman Borlaug is but a reflection of American culture – of an educational system that de-emphasizes science and math and basic knowledge of major world trends; a society that shows little concern for the plight of other nations, particularly those enmeshed in poverty and whose inhabitants do not share a European heritage; a media that glamorizes narcissistic Hollywood celebrities, self-centered sports heroes, anorexic bikini-clad models, and drug addicted rock stars, yet pays little attention to academic and scientific achievement; and a consumer culture that values the accumulation of wealth and material acquisitions, yet ignores the causes of world hunger, disease, and human suffering.

In a January 1997 article in The Atlantic Monthly, Gregg Easterbrook noted that, “[t]hough barely known in the country of his birth, elsewhere in the world Norman Borlaug is widely considered to be among the leading Americans of our age.” Why is this so? Why are Americans so woefully ignorant of the developing world? Why do the American media pay so little attention to the lives and achievements of people like Norman Borlaug? When Michael Jackson died, we were inundated for days with stories of candlelight vigils held in his memory, shrines created in his honor, and spontaneous outbursts celebrating his life and music. We idolize celebrities in a manner closely resembling religious worship, as if a pilgrimage to Graceland, or a shrine to Michael and Princess Diana can replace that lost portion of our soul no longer fulfilled by faith in God. We live in a celebrity-obsessed culture that values fame and wealth and glitz over substantive achievement, the virtues of public service, and selfless acts of charity.

It is as if our celebrity culture has become a replacement for family and a sense of community; as if Americans need to connect with celebrities on a spiritual level. We feed the paparazzi with an insatiable hunger for information on the most intimate aspects of the private lives of our public figures. We want to know about their sex lives, their personality quirks, their tastes in food and music; we judge the clothes they wear to every award ceremony, and devour magazines that critique hair styles and shoe selections. Entire television stations and websites are devoted to celebrity worship; we read about them in People and Us and National Enquirer; watch them on Entertainment Tonight and the Biography channel; listen to them spill their guts on late-night television and Oprah. Yet we ignore the desperate cries of a poverty stricken world, one full of human suffering and in need of repair; the same world Norman Borlaug devoted his life to improving, by alleviating hunger and disease and bringing a sense of justice and compassion to a viciously cruel, over-populated sea of humanity.

We rarely glamorize the works of our great scientists and cancer researchers, international assistance workers, and those who run our shelters and soup kitchens. Instead, we deify our celebrities; place them on pedestals until they fall back to earth, as they inevitably do, when their age increases and physical beauty declines, when their luck runs out or they do something to prove they, too, are human, full of imperfections, personality defects, and emotional insecurities.

In Revolutionary times, our heroes were George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, men who symbolized the essential worthiness of our struggling democracy, standing as the embodiment of national virtue. Today, public virtue has been replaced by superficial notions of character and personality, glamour and packaged imagery; we measure success by photo opportunities and face time. The American attention span is said to hover around 9.8 seconds, making us the epitome of the sound-bite society; it affects our tastes in culture, the arts, and how we spend our time, and unduly influences our news reports and presidential campaigns.

Norman Borlaug died last week and, if only for a few minutes, a small portion of the world took note. There were likely no street stoppages and spontaneous dance parties; no candlelight vigils and makeshift shrines. But the lives of hundreds of millions of people were saved in part because Norman Borlaug devoted his life to improving the living conditions of others. He may have never appeared in People magazine or been interviewed on Hollywood Insider, and he may not be a household name in American schools, but his legacy -- that of Norman Borlaug, the forgotten benefactor of humanity -- lives on throughout the world.

A Baseball Quandary: Good Statistics, Bad Character, Broken Rules

There is perhaps no game as baseball that harmonizes so perfectly with statistical measurement. Virtually every aspect of the game is judged by a number or an equation: batting average (hits divided by at-bats), slugging percentage (total bases divided by at-bats), earned run average (earned runs multiplied by nine, divided by total innings pitched), strikeout-to-walk ratio, lefty-righty breakdowns, you name it, baseball probably has a stat for it. Statistics measure a player’s performance from week-to-week and year-to-year; they resolve salary arbitration disputes, help managers determine matchups and set lineups, and permit fans to debate the value of trades and compare players of different generations. When age and physical limitations finally betray a star player, his career statistics become his resume for future consideration at Cooperstown.

Thus, on September 11, 2009, when Derek Jeter slapped on opposite-field single into right field – marking his 2,722nd career hit and surpassing Lou Gehrig’s 70-year old record as the all-time Yankees hit leader – his future entry into the Hall of Fame was all but assured. That Jeter is a superb baseball player is not disputed, in large part because his statistics bear it out; a career .317 hitter, ten-time All-Star, three-time recipient of the Gold Glove and Silver Slugger Awards, he is a genuine five-tool player, combining hitting, fielding, arm-strength, power, and speed. At 35, Jeter remains at the top of his game, approaching his sixth 200-hit season and leading the Yankees to what will likely be their 40th American League pennant. By all accounts, he also is a man of exemplary character and professionalism, an Ambassador of baseball, and a highly respected teammate. If Jeter retired today, he would deservingly be voted into the Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility.

It is of some irony, then, that Jeter’s record-breaking hit occurred exactly 24 years after Pete Rose surpassed Ty Cobb as baseball’s all-time career hit leader. Rose finished his career with 4,256 hits, the most ever in the history of major league baseball, and 1,500 hits more than Gehrig (and Jeter at present). In a career that spanned 24 years (1963 to 1986), Rose finished with more than 200 hits ten times (and 198 hits in two other seasons), the most of any player in history. He was a three-time National League batting champion, a 17-time All-Star selection, and over several seasons led the league in runs (1969, 1974, 1975, 1976), hits (1965, 1968, 1970, 1972, 1973, 1976, 1981), and doubles (1974, 1975, 1976, 1978, 1980). Nicknamed “Charlie Hustle” because he always played hard – he sprinted to first base every time he was walked and broke up double plays as well as anyone who ever played the game – Rose also holds the all-time National League records for runs scored (2,165), doubles (746), and longest consecutive game hitting streak (44). He was no slouch defensively either, as he played five positions and twice won the Gold Glove (as an outfielder in 1969 and 1970). That Rose was one of baseball’s all-time greatest players is, statistically at least, difficult to refute. Unlike Derek Jeter, however, Pete Rose may never enter the Baseball Hall of Fame, not for lack of baseball merit, but for a lack of character, integrity, and contrition.

In 1988, the Director of Security for Major League Baseball received reports that Rose had placed bets on games played by the Cincinnati Reds while Rose played for and managed the team. If true, Rose would have violated baseball’s most sacrosanct prohibition, which originated in the aftermath of the Black Sox scandal of 1919, when players from the Chicago White Sox disgraced the game by accepting bribes from big-time gamblers to fix the World Series. The rule is now codified as Major League Rule 21(d), and is posted prominently in every team clubhouse: “Any player . . . who shall bet any sum whatsoever upon any baseball game in connection with which the bettor has a duty to perform shall be declared permanently ineligible.” Betting on any other baseball game in which the bettor has no duty to perform results in one-year of ineligibility.

Rose denied under oath ever betting on professional baseball, but an investigation conducted in 1989 by John Dowd, a former mob prosecutor hired by the Office of Commissioner to investigate the gambling allegations, found otherwise. In his 225-page Report to the Commissioner (“The Dowd Report”), released on May 9, 1989, Dowd determined that “Pete Rose bet on baseball, and in particular, on games of the Cincinnati Reds Baseball Club, during the 1985, 1986, and 1987 seasons." Dowd found no evidence that Rose ever bet against the Cincinnati Reds (he bet on them to win), and there was no evidence of game fixing. Nevertheless, the report detailed overwhelming evidence that Rose violated the capital crime of Major League Baseball by betting on games in which he had a duty to perform.

I have studied the Dowd Report and, from my vantage point as a former prosecutor, there is no doubt that Rose violated Major League Rule 21(d). Although much of the evidence consists of the testimony of two convicted drug dealers – Rose’s former friend, Paul Janszen, and bookie Ron Peters – their testimony was independently corroborated by betting slips and Rose’s phone and bank records, which documented the flow of money and the activity described. Dowd also uncovered evidence of other “runners” used by Rose to place his bets (he did not place any bets directly), as well as various bookies utilized by Rose, several of whom had ties to organized crime (Dowd discovered hundreds of questionable financial transactions between Rose and these bookies). In his deposition, Rose admitted gambling extensively on college and professional basketball and football games (which did not violate Rule 21), and he acknowledged using runners to place the bets, so as to protect his privacy. He denied knowing many of the key witnesses against him (including Ron Peters), but when confronted with evidence that he had called them, or left tickets for them, or written checks to them, Rose came up with a variety of very weak explanations, such as failed real estate deals and sponsorship of card shows, none of which made much sense in context. With the assistance of an FBI gambling expert, who examined Rose’s financial records, Dowd showed that Rose placed nearly $15,000 in bets on a daily basis. Among the documentary evidence discussed in the report were three original betting slips in Rose’s handwriting (two of the betting slips also contained Rose’s fingerprints, although this evidence was withheld by the FBI and not made available to Dowd). In its totality, the evidence demonstrated conclusively that Rose bet on professional baseball games, including games played by the Reds.

That Rose, in fact, violated Rule 21(d) is thus not in issue for me, and I believe that his lifetime banishment from Major League Baseball was an appropriate sanction, necessary to protect the integrity of the game and to deter others tempted to repeat Rose’s mistakes. It is just and proper that Rose never again be allowed to participate in professional baseball in any official capacity – not as a coach, manager, hitting instructor, or motivational speaker.

Does Rose nevertheless belong in the Baseball Hall of Fame? I believe that he does, and that his plaque’s absence from the museum’s Gallery dishonors the game.

The Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York, is an independent, privately funded museum, which operates under its own rules, independent of Major League Baseball. To be elected to the Hall of Fame, a player must have played at least ten seasons in the major leagues and have been retired for five years. Hall of Fame Rule 5 states that voting (by the Baseball Writers Association of America) “shall be based upon the player’s record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character, and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played.” If Rose’s entry into the Hall were determined strictly by these criteria, he would have been selected a long time ago. While his character and integrity are certainly lacking, a cursory glance at the plaques lining the museum Gallery suggests that these traits are accorded little weight in determining membership. Ty Cobb, who previously held the all-time hits record until Rose broke it, was an unabashed racist who once slapped a black elevator operator he deemed “uppity,” then stabbed the night watchman (who also was black) when he tried to intervene (the matter was settled out of court in 1912). On May 15, 1912, Cobb severely beat a handicapped fan who heckled him during a game; he routinely spiked opposing players, and regularly used profanity and racial epithets; and he was despised by his own teammates. But in 24 years with the Detroit Tigers, Cobb won eleven batting titles and retired with 4,191 hits and a career .366 batting average. On the field, Cobb was one of the greatest players in the game’s history – his statistics bear that out – and so he is appropriately in the Hall of Fame. In baseball, if not in life, on-field play and statistical accomplishment rule. Babe Ruth is in the Hall of Fame, not because he was a man of great integrity and character – he was a notorious drinker and womanizer – but because he ended his career with 714 home runs, 2,217 RBIs, a .342 batting average, and was one of the best players ever to play the game (he even won 94 games as a pitcher with a career 2.28 ERA). Gamblers, womanizers, boozers, insensitive rogues – there are many to be found among the men whose plaques fill the walls of Cooperstown. There also are many fine men among the list of Hall of Fame inductees, but all of them are there because of their on-field accomplishments.

It is not Rule 5’s references to integrity and character, then, which has kept Rose out of the Hall of Fame, but rather Rule 3e, which declares that “[a]ny player on Baseball’s Ineligibility List shall not be eligible for the Hall of Fame.” This rule did not exist, however, until 1991, just prior to when Rose first became eligible for consideration to the Hall. Following release of the Dowd Report, Rose sought to enjoin then Commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti from disciplining him; when a federal judge dismissed his suit, Rose and Giamatti reached a settlement. Rose agreed to be placed on the list of those “permanently ineligible” with the understanding that he would be allowed to apply for re-instatement after one year, and that Giamatti would consider such a request in good faith. The Office of Commissioner agreed to make no findings or determinations on whether Rose bet on baseball, and the settlement agreement said that “[n]othing in this agreement shall be deemed either an admission or denial by Peter Edward Rose of the allegation that he bet on any major league baseball game.”

Nevertheless, at the press conference announcing the agreement, a reporter asked Giamatti if he personally believed Rose had bet on baseball. Giamatti replied, “In the absence of a hearing and therefore in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, I am confronted by the factual record of Mr. Dowd. On the basis of that, yes, I have concluded that he bet on baseball” (as reported by James Reston, Jr., in Collision at Home Plate: The Lives of Pete Rose and Bart Giamatti, Harper Perennial, 1991, p. 307). Rose understandably was shocked and dismayed at what appeared to be a public retraction by the Commissioner and a breach of the settlement agreement, the precise language of which took several days to negotiate. Absent Rose’s understanding that Giamatti would make no formal findings, Rose never would have accepted “permanent ineligibility” status. As it happens, Giamatti died of a heart attack eight days later and never had an opportunity to clarify, correct, or expand on his comments.

Fay Vincent, who succeeded Giamatti as Commissioner until he resigned in 1992, apparently blamed Rose for Giamatti’s death and never forgave him. He has always been, and remains, publicly opposed to Rose’s re-instatement (see “The Confessions of Pete Rose,” by Fay Vincent, The New York Times, Op-Ed, January 2, 2004). In February 1991, 18 months after the Rose settlement and Giamatti’s death, and by some accounts at Vincent’s urging, the Hall of Fame’s Board of Directors enacted Rule 3e, which forbids Rose’s selection as long as he remains on Major League Baseball’s permanent ineligibility list.

Rose applied for re-instatement in 1997, but Commissioner Bud Selig has sat on the application for 12 years. No formal hearing has ever been scheduled and Selig has stated publicly that he has not seen anything that would convince him to overturn the original agreement.

Many people contend, quite reasonably, that Rose is his own worst enemy, that if he would simply admit his wrongdoing and show genuine contrition, all would be forgiven. Rose has made an admission of sorts; on March 14, 2007, during a sports radio program, Rose reportedly stated, “I bet on my team to win every night because I love my team. . . I made a big mistake. It’s my fault. It’s nobody else’s fault.” Whether this was a contrite admission or a cynical ploy to win favor does not, in my mind, make much difference. No ruling ever was made that Rose bet on baseball – by either the Commissioner’s Office or a court – and the Commissioner expressly agreed not to make any findings, nor to require an admission from Rose. It is contrary to Major League Baseball’s agreement with Rose, and lacks basic fairness, for another Commissioner to now require a full admission and undefined acts of contrition by Rose, when the Commissioner’s Office specifically agreed to “not make any formal findings or determinations on any matter including without limitation the allegation that Peter Edward Rose bet on any major league baseball games.”

Lawsuits and disputes are settled all the time, for a lot of reasons, some good, and some bad. Settlements allow litigants to compromise and move forward. The Rose agreement avoided what was to be a long, drawn out court fight that would have harmed Major League Baseball. It allowed resolution of the case by reaching an acceptable compromise – banishing Rose from baseball for life – which was and remains important for the game’s integrity – yet allowing Rose implicitly the hope and expectation that he may eventually receive the Hall of Fame recognition that his play justly deserved. Changing the rules after the fact, which is precisely what happened in this case, made worse by the 1991 enactment of Hall of Fame Rule 3(e), smacks of unfairness and is a touch vindictive.

I was four years old when Rose got his first hit in the Major Leagues, and I was 28 when he retired from the game; I grew up and became a man during the baseball career of Pete Rose. Although I never particularly liked him – he was far too brash and cocky for me – I always respected his ability, talent, and competitive spirit. And he was sure fun to watch. He may have acted foolishly, and I am certain he bet on baseball, but his play on the field was never compromised. Rose holds the major league record for most winning games played (1,972) not simply because he played for 24 years, but because he was all about winning. There may have been wagers placed, but there was no game fixing by Rose – his Hustle, on the field if not off, was all “Charlie.”

Over the years, Rose has remained bitter and unrepentant. It is hard not to feel some sadness, though, for there are few American figures that have achieved so much and fallen so far. Rose’s story is full of peaks and valleys – he achieved greatness and glory on the baseball diamond and became a national celebrity and a hero to thousands, only to throw it all away, by senseless greed and stubborn pride. Rose has many personal failings – the list is long – but his baseball performance on the field from 1963, when he won the Rookie of the Year Award, to 1986, when he finally set aside his glove and cleats, was not one of them.

Peter Edward Rose belongs in the Hall of Fame. To ignore his accomplishments, to treat him as a pariah forever, is to ignore a significant piece of baseball history. Keeping him out of the game of baseball is necessary to protect the game’s integrity; keeping him out of the Hall of Fame devalues the historical record. As James Reston, Jr., asked rhetorically in Collision at Home Plate, “If Cooperstown truly represents the history of baseball, how can it overlook the game’s all-time hit leader and the game’s all-time tragic figure?” Include a permanent exhibit about why gambling is baseball’s capital crime. Museums, after all, should educate and entertain. Explain why Rose’s gambling damaged not just his integrity, but that of professional baseball. But let us once and for all properly recognize and celebrate Rose’s on-field play, which was never compromised by his gambling activities. Don’t dishonor the game by excluding from the Hall of Fame one of its greatest and most accomplished players.