God needs a better script doctor
Posted on:: October 11th, 2004
I feel cheesy being moved by the death of Christopher Reeve. With all the suffering in the world, my values must be pretty screwed up to be saddened by the loss of one pretty-good actor who, crippled in a rich guy’s hobby, got medical care reserved for the earth’s elite. Yet his public optimism was a welcome rebuke to our normal values. And, because of his accidental identification with Superman and his determination to walk again, he was in a story arc that was supposed to have ended better.
So, what the hell, I’m going with it: I admire the courage of his values and am sad about his death.
I’m with you on wondering about values that make celebrities who have suffered some loss or tragedy and become advocates or donors into feted heroes.
Reeve got into spinal cord research because of his personal circumstances, but a research physician or fund raiser or foundation administrator who could have made a lot more money in pharmaceuticals or sales or business decided to devote themselves to that research because of generalist philanthropic reasons is much more heroic but doesn’t get anywhere near as celebrated.
But. But.
I still felt saddened by the circumstances, that he’d not realize his dream of walking again, that he’d not be able to see progress on the research and advocacy that had become one of his life’s goals.
Maybe it’s the poignancy of a literal fall from being somebody who had it all into somebody who had to fight to breathe? Maybe rising emotionally from a disaster like that gives us an example for our own recoveries from our troubles? Or even some of the schadenfreude that follows so many celebrities, the sense that like anybody else, they can be stricken down by accident or fate or bad choices, just like anybody else?
Ah, well, I don’t know.
But may he rest in peace, may his family and friends be comforted, and may his legacy be increased hope for and progress towards better treatment for spinal cord damage–for everyone.
Superman dead at 52
So all the (net) world is falling all over themselves in obituaries. First it was super anti-philosopher Jacques Derrida. Now, its Superman Christopher Reeves. Sigh. I feel like I should say something profound or wax sorrowfully but as David Weinberger…
Superman dead at 52
So all the (net) world is falling all over themselves in obituaries. First it was super anti-philosopher Jacques Derrida. Now, its Superman Christopher Reeves. Sigh. I feel like I should say something profound or wax sorrowfully but as David Weinberger…
Gotta admit: I don’t get this one David.
The only thing “screwed up” about your value system is that you feel cheesy for feeling sad — yes, even for a rich man. Would you feel better if he hadn’t received quality medical care, or if it were a car accident?
Isn’t this taking legitimate liberal values to an absurd point of internal political correctness? Is even grief to be means-tested?
Liberals, conservatives, neo-cons — these value systems are hopelessly muddled.
r
Rob, the question is why should I feel worse about CR than about someone who suffered more and without his advantages. I think it’s a legit question. For me, being moral always means expanding one’s circle of sympathy. So, I’m not saying it’s wrong to feel bad about CR, but that, yes, it is screwed up to feel bad for CR and be dead to much worse suffering. Do you disagree, Rob?
I was a big fan of Reeve’s activism. The New Yorker profile of him made clear something I’ve been seeing for years: that the merit system for rewarding research in academia combined with the lack of appropriate rewards in the patent system or in government grants means that incremental progress in research is all we’ll see except from people willing to destroy their careers in the interests of actually trying out entirely new, promising techniques for improving health.
The cancer treatment I had for Hodgkin’s Disease six years ago, ABVD, is one of two; the other is MOPP, which Paul Allen had. Both involve four drugs. A Stanford trial involves about 7 or 8. These drugs are all now generic. Today, if you had four cancer drugs you wanted to try together to produce a therapy that in the case of Hodgkin’s changed the survival rate from well under half to a 1-year rate of 92 percent and 5-year rate of 85 percent (and those numbers are now ten years old–it’s gotten better, still), you would have to get four drug companies to the table.
As a recent Fortune magazine article by another cancer survivor, Clifford Leaf, made clear, the drug companies are and must be so protective of their patents to repay their investments and produce the profits that are required of them by Wall Street (among other factors that I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt about) that they cannot sit down at a table and give up or share any rights with others.
Reeve understood this pretty quickly, the New Yorker reported, and transformed the grant-making process. Their foundation had limited funds, no matter how many millions, and he emphasized supporting more radical ideas that had promise, even though the majority of them will probably fail.
Unfortunately, improvements in medical science are more like punctuated equilibrium with refinement than a constant slow change. Open-heart surgery was radically different than anything before it; likewise, the latest heart surgery techniques are radically different than the ones that use the heart-lung machine.
Pursuit of refinement is great, but it doesn’t save many lives. When you read the number of cancer studies in which they fiddle with some deck chairs and produce a significant improvement that’s many a few weeks or months for some percentage of patients, I think: great, if I were that person, those extra days are precious. But what about pushing forward to years or a cure?
That doesn’t come from timidity and Reeve was willing to put his own body on the line, as were other paralyzed folks with his attitude.
So I admire him greatly and miss him already.
World without a Superman
What happens when the Man of Steel dies? I ask that question this morning as I mourn Christopher Reeve’s passing. He was a unique man, able to take a situation that destroyed him physically and work his way back, challenging himself mentally, emotional…
Superman
Jim: Christopher Reeve is person who lived with great courage: Reeve’s courage is a very different courage from that of the warrior in battle–a courage we too much celebrate at the moment. Reeve’s courage was not that of the adrenalin…
Superman
Jim: Christopher Reeve is a person who lived with great courage: Reeve’s courage is a very different courage from that of the warrior in battle–a courage we too much celebrate at the moment. Reeve’s courage was not that of the…
I worked for several years with a technologist whose daughter suffered from spinal cord injury. He held Reeve in high esteem (even occasionally wore the CR tie, though not a tie wearer by any stretch), because of the tremendous efforts exerted by Reeve to advance the technologies that the tech himself was fiercely promoting on behalf of his daughter.
So what’s wrong with using celebrity (and the attached money) to advance a good cause? IMHO, that’s the best use of celebrity.
What’s silly is how our society makes icons/archetypes out of prominent people, who are just human anyway (as are we ALL), but who happen to occupy our most prominent arena of shared mythology. What we need are non-TV-based heroes; I know many who have never even had 15 minutes in print, let alone TV.
Maybe we could have an Internet hero. I nominate Dave W.
The last decade of CR’s life was definitely tragic. Perhaps the most tragic part was becoming an icon in the embryonic stem cell debate, culminating in the Bush-Kerry exchange Friday night. Of course, neither of them mentioned that the debate is over federal funding. CR and his friend’s wife, Teresa could have used their millions to fund embryonic stem cell research with whatever lines they wanted, even within the United States. What they could not do was use federal funds for the research unless it used one of 72 approved lines (21 or so of which are developed and available). I know that skirting federal funding complicates things, and that ethics oversight at respected institutions is influenced to a large part by what major payors will fund, but the ketchup that gets left behind in the empty bottles would surely pay for a lot of embryonic stem cell research, no?
Kerry’s direct suggestion that embryonic stem cells could cure his friend Chris Reeve seemed reminiscent to me of the South Park episode that mocks the notion… A Chris Reeve character gets stem cells, walks, goes on a rampage to feed his thirst for stem cells. One has to wonder if Kerry has anyone under 35 in his camp who could have said, “Hey John, there was a South Park episode about that, could we word this a little differently?”.
There is quite a bit of chatter in various Internet circles about whether the Dems will go Wellstone on CR. It’s reasonable to assume that being the activist he was, CR might not even mind or might welcome his death being used to advance his political causes, including the election of John Kerry. A CR funeral would be a fine October photo op for Kerry. But there is the risk that Dems would not learn from the Wellstone funer-rally and alienate a lot of people who liked CR as an actor, drew inspiration from his will to live, and maybe admired him for some of his activism, but don’t necessarily see eye-to-eye with his politics. These will be an interesting couple of weeks…
Your values might be ‘screwed up’, David, but whose aren’t? I reckon you can rest safe in the knowledge yours are probably far less ‘screwed up’ than most. So go with the feeling. I certainly don’t believe your sadness ‘cheesy’. Like you, I’m saddened to hear of Christopher Reeve’s death, and I had no idea of his struggle to help others. Working with the media as you do, don’t you think the sadness shared by many for public figures derives in part from a feeling that we ‘know’ them far better than we do the millions of nameless faces the media flash before us (and we therefore attach our grief for millions to them)? We have the capacity for only so much sadness. Because Reeve ‘played a part’ in our lives, does his life not understandably mean both more and less (the latter in the sense that he symbolises or ‘carries’ others), as screwed up as that may sound? As for feeling more for those without his means and advantages, I’m sure you’ve felt infinitely sadder at the passing of less fortunate friends, i.e. people of lesser means you knew more closely.
Here’s the quote from the NY Times obit from Reeve that sums up what I said at greater length:
“I believe I speak on behalf of patients who are willing to accept failure as a necessary aspect of moving science forward,” he said. “We want researchers to think less like academics and more like E.M.T.’s whose primary function is to save lives.”
It seems neither cheesy nor screwy in the values department to feel a certain sense of sadness combined with respect upon learning of the passing of a famed one who happened to have world-class medical care and coverage.
Factoid about his care: in Reeves’ situation he faced a true and contemporary American crisis: no more work would mean no more coverage. His friend the actor Robin Williams assured Reeves and his family that he (Williams) would cover the costs of care for as long as it might take.
Nice to have such good friends, especially those in a position to be able to make good on such an offer. It takes a wonderful person to inspire others to be so moved as to make such promises, and to really and actually follow through.
Reeves, in his position of fame and celebrity, managed to champion a cause that affected not just himself, but many others. And the large majority of those others are not likely to have had a Robin Williams in their life, capable of providing world -class care and also to facilitate receiving pro-active research and therapies.
It is not cheesy, not so much the noble act of Reeves, or the similar actions of Parkinsons sufferer Michael J. Fox, or the occasional celebrity (or ex President) that have gone public to disclose that they are afflicted with Alzheimers….. nobility is not the issue, nor is access to excellent care. The ability to bring attention and awareness to the issues, and to raise public concern and motivation for actions which might bring about more research, more therapies and possbily even cures, is what makes the passing of Reeves a cause for sadness, and to do so with a sense of respect and admiration.
Some celebrated types who get hit with affliction, accidents, maladies, whatever, take the Clark Kent approach: mild-mannered, fading into the woodwork, out of the public eye. Christopher Reeves took the super-hero approach of sorts, continuing to work when he was able, going public with support for stem cell research and other forms of study, and appearing before Congress and also providing hope and a sense of community to others who suffered in ways similar to his.
Of course his death makes you feel sad, and reminds you again of your admiration of the man and his values. It is not at all cheesy. His notoriety in the last 10 or so years was above and beyond those tabloids and fanzines. He did the right thing and fully merits the emotions [stirred in others, regular people) that come with his passing.
I agree with Brad Hutchings:
I second the nomination of Dave W. for internet hero! Quick — where are the paparazzi, er technorazzi?
Here’s a link into a very long open thread on another weblog (one of my favorites!) that points to an entry touching on why Reeves’ activism was (in the opinion of the author) problematic.