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EDITORIAL
Op-Ed; Loyalty must end when others hurt
Thomas M. Keane Jr.

12/11/2002
Boston Herald
All Editions
035
(Copyright 2002)

Most of Boston was incredulous at the events that unfolded in Charlestown beginning in the early 1970s. For over a quarter- century, more than 50 men and women were murdered in the small, blue- collar enclave. Yet, authorities were stymied. Residents knew the identity of the killers. Indeed, the parents of the murdered often knew. No one spoke up. They called it the Code of Silence, the code that valued the neighborhood over the victims, the law of the street over the law of the land, the insiders vs. the outsiders.

But Charlestown was hardly unique. For during those years and up to the present day, three successive leaders of the Boston archdiocese - Cardinals Richard Cushing, Humberto Medieros and Bernard Law - followed their version of the code as well. Priests who raped, abused, assaulted and committed other crimes were quietly transferred from place to place, their crimes kept quiet, the whisper of scandal desperately shushed.

And so it was in South Boston as well. Returning from a stint in Alcatraz 40 years ago, James "Whitey" Bulger rose to power, eventually controlling the Winter Hill gang and dominating organized crime in Boston. Along the way he allegedly killed 21 and is implicated in the murders of a score more.

Many in South Boston, including Whitey's brother - then president of the state Senate and now president of the University of Massachusetts - also followed the code. They knew what Whitey did; they may even have helped him a bit along the way.

But they never told.

As different as all of these circumstances may seem, underneath they are all the same. In each case, loyalty - to a neighborhood, to a sibling, to an organization - mattered more than anything else.

Loyalty, to be sure, is a virtue. It's part of what makes trust possible. Boy Scouts promise to be loyal. Dogs always are. So, it appears, are Bostonians, who apparently think it better to permit a murder or a rape than to betray those to whom we are close.

In conversations over the last week, brothers and sisters asked each other, "Would you have turned me in?"

The question is posed in all seriousness, the limits of loyalty carefully parsed. How many murders would it take? Is under 10 OK? Fifty too many? Or is there no limit? Is loyalty a virtue that trumps all others?

The right answer? One murder, one rape, one case of abuse - that's it. Loyalty stops when others are harmed.

That's the way it should be. But that is not the way it is. It is mind-boggling that people would seriously entertain the notion that "brotherly love," or "protecting the church from scandal," or "the neighborhood" are legitimate excuses. But they have done so and they still do so and the consequences have been horrific.

In the case of Charlestown, the Code of Silence unraveled a close- knit community.

"Everybody in town always knew who killed my child," said one mother whose daughter was stabbed 100 times in 1981. "They all knew and they all kept their mouth shut." Charlestown for a time descended into virtual lawlessness until finally, in the mid-1990s, federal authorities persuaded some residents to break the code and testify.

The cases of Whitey Bulger and the Catholic Church are no different. In covering for Whitey, William Bulger and many throughout South Boston betrayed their neighbors. During the years of Whitey's reign, heroin flooded Southie's streets. Deaths from overdoses climbed rapidly; in 1999 alone, 28 died. An epidemic of suicides tore through families.

And by invoking their own code, the cardinals have betrayed their church.

Instead of protecting the institution from scandal, the cardinals caused it. Those abused by priests have been grievously injured, the secret crimes dominating their lives and provoking some to end those lives. The church is discredited, many find their faith in crisis and the archdiocese is now perilously close to bankruptcy.

It is, of course, easy to say that Cardinal Law should resign, that Bulger should resign as president of UMass.

But we make a mistake if we believe that their departures - should they occur - are the end of it. For something deeper is at play here. This city has made a fetish of loyalty; it's part of its culture. It believes it is better to be silent than to speak out. It protects its own, even if it means others are harmed.

This is simply wrong. It is nothing less than perversion, and it is a perversion that runs deep. It's not enough to blame others for what has been happened. These are our crimes as well.

Talk back to Tom Keane at tomkeane@tomkeane.com.

Caption: BILLY BULGER: His silence isn't golden.