The Criminal who Became a Man

Michael Vick, like many other Americans of note (from Snooki and Bill Clinton to Brett Favre and Tiger Woods) have had their stories beaten into our heads by constant play and replay in print and televised media. Anyone who knows who Michael Vick is knows that he killed dogs.

The story had legs because it evoked a horror (the murder of America's beloved pet) and tied it to a famous name. Like Tiger Woods after him (sex), Clinton before him (sex), and perhaps the father of celebrity-centered media saturation, OJ Simpson (murder), Vick was a 24/7 story. It touched everyone, became a talking point in conversations across the nation, caused unnecessarily deep emotional reactions, and ultimately remains as a part of the public lexicon as Vick's life continues to develop.

My question: why was the public more willing to militarize against Michael Vick, athlete and dog-killer, than against other far-more-worthy social causes? Few expressed the same shock and anger at Bernie Madoff stealing billions (even as he was the head of NASDAQ) or Jack Abramoff fomenting political corruption at the highest levels. Obviously there are many views on the continued war on terror, but even the pacifists who most deeply oppose the war could learn something from PETA about forming protests.

To this extent, Michael Vick provided the public an outlet for the frustrations that are experienced across the cultural spectrum (economic, social, racial) since his crime centered on something universally disagreeable: the torture and murder of dogs. It's easier to protest Vick than a complex ideological war, easier to stand on the side of dogs than against pillars of the economy or political system (crooks or not). Easier to feel anger or righteous condemnation than to attempt to reconstruct difficult, broken institutions.

It was not so much that Vick was an innocent marched to slaughter by a biased jury, as that the court of public opinion was far more ruthless than it might otherwise be. That he (and others who share in his media saturated negative limelight) is an easy target. Everyone knows precisely how to react to someone who kills dogs or commissions scores of prostitutes or abuses power to have illicit sex with (not so attractive) college interns. Reacting to corruption, bad government, and war requires research, thought, and dedication. Voting is the accepted social medium for expressing these concerns, and regardless of the gravity of the socio-political crime, it can never be as heinous as killing innocent, lovable doggies.

What is the postscript for many is the story for me: the redemption of Vick. Some will never forgive him for his trespasses against animals, but the reality is that he lost everything for it. Years of his life, millions of dollars (in addition to the money that was stolen from him by his agents and managers, who were as crooked as Madoff and Abramoff, or even a dog's hind leg), and the chance at immortality (both as cultural icon and athletic innovator). Despite losing all of this, despite spending two years at his physical peak in Ft. Leavenworth, Vick is now the same caliber athlete and a better quarterback than he was before incarceration. He works hard, studies his role, says all the right things to media, and meets his obligations (both imposed by his federal bankruptcy court and as a result of his federal sentence).

The story of Michael Vick is no longer the story of a man who became a criminal, but rather of a criminal who became a free man. But that leaves little to protest against, it robs the public of its righteous anger, and it requires a re-evaluation of what is possible: both from those who consider him a victim of his culture, and from those who consider him a raging psychopath.

Really, though, we learn more about our own culture from Michael Vick than we can ever learn about him.