I think we are all saddened when
an iconic figure stumbles.
I'm not talking about so-called icons of industry or politics, like
Kenneth Lay of Enron or Richard Nixon.
We weren't surprised by their downfalls, because we knew well in advance
that their pursuits of money or power were fraught with vanity and
self-seeking. I'm talking about
people who seemed to be acting selflessly, and maybe were, until it seems maybe they
weren't.
I
was thus disheartened when Greg
Mortenson fell from grace. His
2006 book Three
Cups of Tea enthralled me with the
altruism of the venture he had undertaken. Starting on a shoestring in 1993, he built schools,
especially for girls, in the remotest parts of Afghanistan and Pakistan. He overcame daunting barriers: Afghani
and Pakistani red tape, dangerous environs, opposition from local mullahs, virtually
impossible logistics, and an exhausting hunt for funding. Yet he managed over the years to build
scores of schools. A second book Stones
into Schools continues the story,
elaborating a vision of promoting peace through education in Central Asia.
Mortenson's
funding difficulties eased as his program grew. Silicon Valley pioneer Jean Hoerni, an early contributor,
left $1 million on his death in 1997, establishing The Central Asia Institute
in Montana to support the continuing efforts. Money flooded into the Institute after the publication of Three
Cups of Tea, including $100,000 that
President Obama gave from the proceeds of his 2009 Nobel Peace Prize. (Mortenson himself has been nominated
three times for that prize.)
Perhaps $60 million has been donated.
However, cracks
started appearing in the façade a year ago with two harsh exposés, one by
author Jon Krakauer (who himself had contributed $75,000 to CAI), the other
by
CBS' 60 Minutes. The first third of Three Cups of Tea describes a lost and ill Mortenson blundering into the
Pakistani village of Korphe when descending from the Himalayan peak K2; his
being nursed to health by the villagers; his 'rash' promise to build a school
for them; and his subsequently raising $12,000 to build it. Krakauer's conclusion about this
story: "a compelling creation myth … an
intricately wrought work of fiction presented as fact." Krakauer goes on relentlessly:
"The image of Mortenson that has been created for public consumption is an
artifact born of fantasy, audacity, and an apparently insatiable hunger for
esteem." The 60
Minutes segment presented interviews also
asserting that many of the "facts" in the book were either totally
false or greatly embellished. Both exposés alleged additionally that the account books
of CAI were a bramble of conflicts of interest if not outright fraud, and that
less than half of CAI's income goes to its work in the field.
Significantly, neither probe charged that
Mortenson and CAI hadn't actually built many schools, claiming only that the
number built and currently supported have constantly been inflated in CAI
reports. Krakauer himself wrote,
"Mortenson has done much that is admirable … He's been a tireless advocate
for girls' education. He's
established dozens of schools … that have benefited tens of thousands of
children."
Mortenson's
supporters stood behind him even after these stunning denunciations. His former
climbing partner Scott
Darnsey wrote, "Greg is a very humble,
quiet man who does not like to be constrained by time and by many of the ways
of Western life and business. He can overcommit himself beyond belief … I saw
Greg struggle for over seven years to get CAI off the ground. I visited with him several times in San
Francisco, lying on the floor of crash pads while Greg told me of his
setbacks. He has dedicated his
whole self to this cause at risk to his family, his friends, and his health. …
[T]o call [his story] all 'lies' and 'fraud'? No way."
New York Times
columnist Nicholas
Kristof wrote, "Greg is modest, passionate and utterly disorganized. …
I don’t know what to make of these
accusations. … My inclination is to reserve judgment until we know more, for
disorganization may explain more faults than dishonesty. … I’m willing to give
some benefit of the doubt to a man who has risked his life on behalf of some of
the world’s most voiceless people."
A few weeks ago
a report on financial improprieties was released by the Attorney General's
office of Montana after a year-long inquiry. It concluded that CAI had over the years made many
expenditures without securing proper reimbursement: $3.96 million buying copies
of both books to give away, Mortenson's royalties from which were never donated to CAI
as promised; $4.93 million advertising and promoting the books, which cost was
never split between Mortenson and CAI as agreed; $2 million for charter flights
and promotional costs for Mortenson's speeches, even though Mortenson pocketed
honoraria and expense payments from the hosts of the talks; and hundreds of
thousands of dollars on personal expenses charged to CAI credit cards, which Mortenson never
repaid. The Attorney General
alleged no criminality, saying: "Mr. Mortenson may not have intentionally
deceived the board or his employees, but his disregard for and attitude about
basic record-keeping and accounting for his activities essentially had the same
effect." Mortenson has agreed
to repay $1 million to the Institute.
It
is a depressing tale. The net
effect of a year of revelations is to paint Mortenson in damning terms. However, I think a closer look is
required, if only because of those glowing testimonials to Mortenson's
character by Darnsey, Kristof and others.
Here's
my own take, which is not so damning. If Mortenson was indeed after money or power or
even glory, he certainly took a hard route by starting with no resources to
build schools in the remote Himalayas.
He has for two decades indisputably made that his life's work, with
notable success. The back story of
his efforts still rings true to me through the many fabrications, purported and
established. (For example, even if
the account of Mortenson's stumbling into Korphe on his way down from K2 and
pledging to build his first school there is a "creation myth," that
part of Pakistan does in fact have many schools that Mortenson and CAI did build, including one in Korphe.) I can even see how, in the mind of a person as work-obsessed
and as disorganized as Mortenson, there could be little distinction between
personal finances and those of his alter ego, the CAI. Still, if Mortenson was conscious that
he was distorting his story and misusing funds, I don't believe he was being
nefarious. Maybe the very fantasy
and audacity Krakauer complains were used in the creation of Mortenson's public
image are themselves the essential qualities Mortenson needed to succeed in his
nigh-impossible venture.
What
do I conclude? Only this:
Mortenson stands on feet of clay like the rest of us, even Mother Teresa. The irony is that, while we are willing
to weigh most people's characters on scales that balance their frailties
against their strengths, we insist on godlike purity in those who would be
altruists. Perhaps we should apply
a more nuanced standard to them too.