Kyrie Irving and the Loss of Accountability

What We Can Learn About Accountability from the Kyrie Irving Furor

Welcome to the Civic Way journal, our quick take on the relevance of current events to America’s future governance. The author, Bob Melville, is the founder of Civic Way, a nonprofit dedicated to good government, and a management consultant with over 45 years of experience improving public agencies.

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On good teams coaches hold players accountable, on great teams players hold players accountable.

― Joe Dumars, ex-Detroit Pistons star, NBA Hall of Famer and professional basketball executive

In politics—and in life—we hear a lot about accountability. About taking responsibility for our actions (or inaction). About remorse and forgiveness. About redemption and second chances.

We have gotten very good at one element of accountability, the part where we hold strangers to account. Armed with our self-righteousness, rage, anonymity (and, of course, a social media account), we have become quite adept at attacking others from afar.

We may be slow to start a diet, return calls or pay our bills, but we judge others at lightning speed, especially if we don’t know them. Freed from the need to walk in their shoes, we become sheriff, judge and jury for a day.

Whatever the sin or transgression, we become a heat-seeking missile of retribution. Racism. Intolerance. Misogyny. Sexual harassment. Police abuse. Bullying. Violence. Brutality. Hate. Obscenity. Blasphemy. We recognize it, reveal it and rebuke it. And we do it at the speed of light.

It is not that vile or hateful conduct—once verified—should not be condemned. The facts should be marshaled. Genuine remorse should be sought. Real change should follow. And, when the offender offers evasion instead of contrition, ostracism is an entirely valid response.

When an angry mob attacked the US Capitol Building on January 6, 2021, demands for accountability arose from Democrats and Republicans alike. In the days following that shameful assault (and during the Congressional hearings), most Americans were disgusted by what they saw. However, after initially expressing contempt for the mob and their leaders, most Republican leaders went silent, choosing political self-preservation over patriotism. The same GOP leaders who demanded jail time for Hillary Clinton’s sloppy email practices could no longer muster any indignation over a treasonous scheme to prevent a peaceful transition of power.

The lies of Trump and his election-denying minions are reckless, dangerous and indefensible, but we should not be deluded that Republican politicians have a monopoly on hypocrisy.

In 2016, after Hillary Clinton lost to Trump, some leading Democrats refused to accept the election’s outcome, and some doubted Trump’s legitimacy. Hillary Clinton called the election “not on the level.” Ex-President Carter said, “He lost the election and … was put into office because the Russians interfered …” John Lewis said, “I don’t see Trump as a legitimate president.”

In 2020, George Floyd was brutally killed by a feral police officer (since imprisoned). This tragedy followed a series of other killings of young Black Americans—Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Travon Martin, Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery. The killings incited massive protests against police abuse throughout the world, and angry calls for abolishing and defunding the police.

NBA players, coaches and officials quickly joined the protests, a noble custom begun years before. In 2014, LA Clippers players protested the racist rants of their then-owner during a playoff game. That same year, many players, including LeBron James and Kobe Bryant, wore black “I Can’t Breathe” shirts to mark Eric Garner’s death.

LeBron James was most prominent, calling basketball a “platform” and “an opportunity … to spread … love throughout the whole world.” Instead of playing it safe and putting shoe sales first, James used his platform. Heralding an inspiring new era when athletes would no longer “just shut up and dribble,” many NBA players used their fame to denounce hate speech and injustice.

And along came Kyrie Irving.

One of the best basketball players on the planet. An all-star. An NBA champion. A vice president of the Players Association. A conspiracy theorist and flat earth advocate. An anti-vaxxer who stubbornly refused to get vaccinated and join his teammates at home games. An enormously gifted and wealthy athlete with—apparently—little familiarity with Mark Twain’s sage counsel.

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. – Mark Twain

As most of us now know, Irving found a way to burnish his dubious reputation. He posted on Twitter a link to “Hebrews to Negroes: Wake Up Black America,” a movie asserting, among other things, that Jews lie about the Holocaust and their origins. When asked about the film and his beliefs, Irving responded, “I cannot be anti-Semitic, if I know where I come from” adding (just as cryptically), “I’m just here … to expose things that our world continues to put in darkness.”

Instead of taking responsibility for his actions and expressing regret, Irving offered a bewildering blend of alibis, martyrdom and defiance. Instead of condemning the post and film, he backed Alex Jones’ New World Order conspiracy theory. Irving’s team suspended him for at least five games for his “failure to disavow antisemitism,” calling Irving “unfit to be associated with the Brooklyn Nets.” The Nets also told Irving what he had to do to get reinstated, like sensitivity training and meeting with Jewish leaders.

How about the NBA players? Did they hold their friend accountable?

The world’s best basketball players shut up and dribbled. Irving’s teammates said little. Kevin Durant, for instance, said, “I felt like we could have just kept playing basketball and kept quiet as an organization.” The National Basketball Players’ Association issued a tepid, Irving-free statement condemning antisemitism and one of their vice-presidents panned the Nets’ reinstatement conditions.

After first conceding that “Kyrie … caused some harm to a lot of people,” LeBron James blasted the Nets’ reinstatement terms and said Irving— his former teammate—should be back on the court. He tweeted, “Kyrie apologized and he should be able to play.” The translation? Professional basketball players may increasingly dictate NBA policies, but they won’t hold own each other accountable.

The broader lesson here?

Accountability is a lot harder than calling out strangers. It requires a real reckoning with our friends and ourselves. Like so many others—Democrats and the 2016 presidential election, Republicans and the Capitol Coup and 2020 presidential election deniers, NBA players and Kyrie Irving—we can’t be outspoken against others and remain silent about our own.

When we fail to apply the same standard to our friends that we apply to others, we are practicing hypocrisy, not courage. We are mistaking sanctimony for accountability.