Affleck: The Sandusky scandal was a disaster for Penn State but a turning point for many survivors

As of this weekend, we are now 10 years out from the early stages of the Jerry Sandusky child sex abuse scandal.

This anniversary may be the last one that is marked, at least in the media, in any substantial way and I’d like to make a couple of points on the occasion. But up front, I also feel compelled to tell you a few things about my perspective, so you can judge for yourself whether I’m trustworthy.

On Saturday, Nov. 5, 2011, when Sandusky was arrested and I first heard about the case, I was a member of the sports management team at The Associated Press, having previously worked in national news and, of interest here, having taken a big role in shaping our coverage of the Roman Catholic abuse scandal in the early 2000s.

The Catholic cases dominated a year or more for me. I wound up filing a lot of copy about Sandusky, too.

But when the initial story broke, I didn’t know who Sandusky was, had never been to Penn State, and as a young person had cheered against the Nittany Lions because I grew up in Syracuse, N.Y., and graduated from Notre Dame. Do the math.

When I interviewed to take leadership of the sports journalism program at Penn State two years later, I immediately fell in love with the place and found State College charming, despite the fact that emotions were still very raw less than two years out from the Sandusky arrest and one year out from the NCAA football sanctions.

Whether it’s my contrarian nature as a journalist or something else, I don’t know, but Penn State was a bit of a draw to me partly because it became immediately clear, notwithstanding some things I’d heard in the newsroom, that everyone in town did not know Sandusky was a brutal criminal. That would have been impossible in a county of 150,000 people.

And, further, it was obvious after my job interviews that the university community was filled with caring faculty and staff who had worked too hard and too long to make their school a great one just to have a monster tear it all down.

So that’s the perspective which I, your guide for the next 500 words or so, bring to all this. I’d like to make two broad points.

The first is that, for Penn State and the surrounding community, the Sandusky scandal was an unmitigated disaster that needs to be remembered precisely so it doesn’t happen again anywhere.

It was, of course, a nightmare for those who endured Sandusky’s assaults.

The crimes of his longtime defensive coordinator also tarnished the reputation of highly respected football coach Joe Paterno at the very end of his life.

More generally, it was the worst moment in the school’s now 166-year history, between the administration’s failure to grasp the gravity of the case, the failure to report Mike McQueary’s 2001 accusation to police, the communication breakdowns both internally and externally when Sandusky was under grand jury investigation and then charged, and the student protests. That doesn’t even count the more than $100 million paid out over the last decade to upward of 30 accusers who say Sandusky sexually abused them.

It hardly needs to be said, but Penn State 2011 is a prime example of why my colleagues who teach public relations advise their students, when they eventually manage a crisis, to tell the truth, tell it first, and tell it yourself.

But there also is another side to all this, that of the survivors, and it also offers lessons.

I recently spoke with Scott Berkowitz, the president and founder of RAINN (Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network), which is the nation’s largest anti-sexual violence organization, to ask if the Sandusky scandal mattered in the long parade of sex abuse cases this nation has seen since the Boston Archdiocese scandal broke in 2002.

He had three important observations.

First, the publicity around the Sandusky case, which centered on boys being attacked, “opened the door to a lot of survivors who had previously felt like they needed to keep quiet about what they had experienced,” he said. “At the time we saw an increase in usage of the National Sexual Assault Hotline by men and boys.”

Most of them told RAINN it was the first time they spoke out. Survivors often tell RAINN it’s more difficult to come out about being abused if one feels alone, but there is some safety in numbers.

Next, any time there is such an intense focus on an institution, like there was at Penn State, peer institutions take notice. Berkowitz said other schools began to reevaluate their reporting procedures to look for where problems might be, which was a positive development.

And finally, for those who still believe in the good heartedness of the typical Penn Stater, Berkowitz had this to say.

“One thing that affected me and RAINN a lot at the time was how many Penn State alums came together at the time to want to do something — people who loved their university but were horrified at what had happened. And so, in that first three weeks or so after the story broke, about 12,000 Penn State alums came together and donated to RAINN to support survivors, which was an extraordinary number.

“We’ve never seen that kind of outpouring with any other story.”

What’s the point of raising that moment? It’s not to have a We Are brag, it’s just to take away the lesson. Doing good in the face of something very bad may not make everything better, but it helps. And in the long run, it’s remembered.