Cutting out diseased words

(Just for once, a different sport...)

Kazakhstan, as any native is keen to tell strangers, is the ninth biggest country in the world. It has a huge number and variety of resources, not least its people, who are warm, humorous and intelligent. It is recovering well from years of Soviet control, and the capital city, Astana, is a remarkable mixture of the old and the very new.

One of its bright new toys is the Astana Pro Cycling team, a partnership born of controversy after the Operación Puerto doping case in 2006. It is enveloped in controversy once more with the return to cycling of Lance Armstrong, the person who has most polarised opinion in the recent history of the sport due to the constant accusations of doping.

One of the journalists who has levelled such accusations at Armstrong is Dubliner Paul Kimmage, a Times (UK and Ireland, as opposed to the NY variety) journalist with a history in professional cycling and firm anti-doping credentials. He has never wavered in his criticism of doping in the sport, and even a cursory glance at his articles on the subject reveal that his language has always been unequivocal and blunt.

CANCER

Late last year, however, his choice of language caused great controversy and polarised cycling and journalistic opinion almost as much as the object of his criticism. The context of the words is too long to reprint here, and is, to be honest, irrelevant to the argument over his language. Here is the last paragraph of what Kimmage said:

“This guy, any other way but his bullying and intimidation wrapped up in this great cloak, the great cancer martyr … this is what he hides behind all the time. The great man who conquered cancer. Well he is the cancer in this sport. And for two years this sport has been in remission. And now the cancer’s back.”

As anyone who has had even a passing interest in the sport will know, Armstrong beat testicular cancer in his twenties. There can be absolutely no doubt that Paul Kimmage knows this information too.

PERSPECTIVE

Let us take this away from Armstrong and cycling and drugs for just a couple of paragraphs. Let us imagine that the great Oscar-winning actor Helen Mirren was accused of some heinous offences within the acting world, some abuse of confidence of young, aspiring actors for example. The equivalent of Kimmage’s words would be to accuse her of being a “rapist” of the young talent while in full knowledge of her past.

Or let us imagine that another great performer, Owen Wilson, was accused of some equally appalling crimes which threatened to not only discredit but also destroy the acting world. The equivalent of Kimmage’s words would be to accuse him of “slashing the wrists” of his profession, again while in full knowledge of his past.

These two examples are quite obviously ludicrous to imagine, but it is important to take away the fire of the controversy in question in order to look simply at the language used.

COMMON USAGE

To describe something as a “cancer” in a figurative way is a very common part of our language, and is used as widely in journalism as it is in everyday conversation. However, just as natural as its usage is the way it slips out of a person’s vocabulary when that person comes into contact with someone who has been directly affected by the disease, not only when talking in front of that someone but also away from them.

Again, let us move away from the controversy for a moment. When my brother was diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of fourteen (I was nine), the word “eppy”, which was commonly used by the children around me to describe flying into a rage, slipped out of my vocabulary as my awareness of its real meaning was brought home to me. The same was true of any offhand reference to suicide as my awareness of this terrible phenomenon grew with events close to me.

The result of these changes to my vocabulary meant that not only do I not put my foot in it with a slip of the tongue in front of the wrong person, but I never use epilepsy, cancer, suicide, rape or mental handicap – to give just a few examples – in any humorous reference, whatever the context. And quite obviously, I never use them as weapons to attack someone, whatever I suspect them of having done.

PRE-MEDITATION

Kimmage’s use of cancer in his latest attack on a cyclist widely suspected of cheating was neither an accident born of ignorance of Armstrong’s past nor even a slip of the tongue. It was cynical and pre-meditated. Much more than the fact that it was childish, disgusting, highly insensitive and crass in the extreme, this pre-meditation is the damning point. Kimmage wielded this disease and the pain it causes countless families as a weapon in a personal vendetta, with no regard whatsoever for the distress his choice of words could cause.

Whatever Armstrong may have done – and I have the same disdain and contempt for cheats and specifically dopers as much as the next person, even if the next person is Paul Kimmage – there is absolutely no excuse for what Kimmage has done. And this is why I mentioned at the start that the rest of Kimmage’s words were irrelevant, because the accusations in question and the probability of guilt in no way justify that final paragraph.

My contact with Kazakhs has been enormously positive, and my enthusiasm for cycling, and the Tour in particular, has never been affected by the cheats and their execrable methods, but I would prefer to have nothing to do with the Astana team thanks to their connection with doping through Vinokourov et al until they have cleansed their ranks of such people. By the same token, I would prefer not to have anything to do with any publication that employs Paul Kimmage until he has apologised for his disgraceful outburst.