When,
according a well-known children’s rhyme, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall from a
wall, he could never be put together again. Not even by all the horses and men
of the King himself. But, what of humans who suffer such great falls? Many, in
recent times, seem to have no trouble surviving rather nasty falls from great heights
in the sporting, corporate and other such worlds. I was reminded of this
contrast when reading about Rajat Gupta’s book.
Isn’t the
greatest tragedy the burden such sordid cases place on those of us who seek
role models? Too often have we seen inspiring individuals beat great odds to
rise to the very top, and then, shockingly, throw it all away through lapses of
ethics.
More than a
decade ago, I, and undoubtedly many others, had read and re-read Lance Armstrong’s
stirring memoirs ’It’s not about the bike’ and ‘Every Second counts’,
and been inspired by this story of a sportsperson who came back from a debilitating
illness to reclaim the pinnacle of the sport. It was, if you will pardon the cliché,
the stuff of true legend. So much so, that when the downward spiral started
with the US Anti-Doping Agency accusing him of orchestrating ‘the most
sophisticated, professionalised and successful doping programme that sport has
ever seen’, I took refuge in disbelief. When finally, he was stripped of all
his titles and he admitted on television to his guilt, I felt tremendously
cheated. Cheated that I had let my imagination be fired by someone who turned out
to be a trickster. That I had lost an exemplar. That I had spent time on, what
seemed in the light of the new events, a fictional account than a moving, personal
story.
At the same
time, I know there were some who could not help wondering: What did the general
public gain from this knowledge? Would they have been better off if, somehow, they
had been shut off from this news and had continued to draw from the uplifting
narrative of his memoirs?
Such questions
illustrate how difficult it is, for the community as a whole, to come to terms
with falls of the successful from great heights. Which is why, I find it truly
astounding where the perpetrators themselves get rapidly back on their feet and
set about reinventing themselves.
I am a
believer in second chances. That people should be able to explain themselves,
their actions and have a shot at redemption. But what happens when the individual
turns out to be a redemption-entrepreneur, whips out the smoke-and-mirrors and doles
out inspiration from his (former) life of infractions?
Case in point,
Jordan Belfort. While certainly not an angel, though fallen, his is a
fascinating case study. He staged a
series of scams involving unsophisticated investors and penny stocks, and was
found guilty of stock fraud. Sentenced to prison, he was ordered to pay
restitution to his victims, a saga fraught with accusations of evasion, claims
and negotiations. After serving prison time, he found an opportunity to lionise
himself, by writing a book, as The Wolf of Wall Street (though his stockbroking racket had
nothing to do with Wall Street by any stretch of imagination). Hollywood promptly
took the bait and turned it into an over-the-top movie laced generously with
recreational drugs and evocative expletives that they like to believe is the
stuff of Wall Street.
What is truly
staggering is Belfort’s extended second career as a motivational speaker, running
seminars on, amongst other things, ethics and entrepreneurship. The going rate per
session ran into tens of thousands of dollars. Sense of irony, anyone?
And then there
are true angels, who have collapsed from high pedestals. Rajat Gupta exemplified
the rise of the underdog on more than one dimension. Without going into his
early struggles, suffice it to say that his story captured the idea of the
American meritocracy. White-collar crime accusations and prison time later, he
is setting out to rebuild himself, the first step of which is the publication
of his book.
I happened to
read an acquaintance’s glowing review of the book, its leadership lessons and
life-changing potential, with zero mention of culpability of any sort. That
made me wonder if Gupta had pulled off the impossible, and written off the sins
of his past through the pages of his book. I would have expected the book’s motif
to be one of two: either defence of his actions and motives, or remorse. It turned out to be neither. Instead, the
purpose lies in taking firm control of the narrative, and telling the story he
believes unfolded in front of his eyes. There is his toil, his success, his dismay
at his fall from grace, disaffection with the judicial system, his distress at his
former employer and associates, and his quest for forgiveness. He is acutely
aware that he has failed all those who looked up to him, and he wants to make
amends. But when there is no attempt to own up, what, one wonders, is he
seeking forgiveness for? He had the option to testify in court, under oath, and
he passed up the chance, apparently on advice from his lawyers. How does one
square that against his seeking of forgiveness? What I see is an endeavour to
come to terms with the future, without working hard to efface the demons of the
past.
This only
makes it harder for the average person to come to terms with the shattering
of icons. In the end, idols and their lofty pedestals are of our own creation. We
have no means to demand accountability. And by that, I don’t mean the
accountability that courts are able to enforce. I mean staying true to the idea
of success that kindles the imagination of the people.
What claim do
we, the interested observers, have on their lives? How do we make them as
invested in their conscience as the world clearly is?
So many
questions, and I’m no closer to answers.
