By Peter Kaufman

“Is Calling Cheating Cheating,
Cheating?” This was the title of a paper I wrote back in graduate school for a
class on the sociology of deviance. This playful (or confusing) use of words
was my attempt at getting at the uncertainty that sometimes surrounds actions
that we deem improper. The point I was trying to make with this title is that
it seems wrong to call some acts of inappropriate behavior inappropriate. A
particular act might be referred to as cheating but upon closer inspection we
may realize that it’s not entirely accurate to label this act as wrong.

In that paper I was concerned
primarily with academic dishonesty and I was looking at behaviors that are not
easily categorized, such as studying together and working cooperatively on
assignments. In certain academic contexts these actions may be considered cheating,
but in other academic settings, and in most professional situations, this sort
of group work is encouraged and expected (for more on this topic see Karen
Sternheimer’s post).

I’ve been thinking about these
ideas again while following the case of Alex Rodriquez. For
those who don’t know, A-Rod is the polarizing, star baseball player for the New
York Yankees. While some consider him to be one of the greatest baseball
players of all time, others consider him a liar and cheat because of his persistent
connection to performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs). In the latest chapter of this
on-going saga, A-Rod was suspended by Major League Baseball for 211 games
because of evidence connecting him to PEDs. A-Rod’s legal team appealed this
sentence and for now he is still playing for the Yankees. 

credit: Keith Allison/Wikimedia

A-Rod’s situation raises a number
of interesting questions relating to the sociology of deviance: How is deviance
socially constructed? Why do we deem some actions deviant (or cheating) and
other similar actions acceptable and allowable? What societal values are being
upheld by calling certain actions deviant?

Some of these sociological points
were raised succinctly by Bryant Gumbel in his commentary on A-Rod and
America’s drug problem:

As Gumbel suggests, there seems to
be a contradiction between what we define as inappropriate behavior in sports
versus what we condone and promote in other arenas of social life. In
sociological terms, Gumbel is referring to the moral panic that has swept
our country over PEDs in sports. Moral panics arise when people feel threatened
by something that is disrupting societal norms and values. The use of drugs in
sports—particularly in baseball, our nation’s pastime—qualifies as a moral
panic to the extent that PEDs threaten our (largely mythological) notion of
sports as embodying fair play, hard work, sportsmanship, and honesty.

Bryant Gumbel points out that our
moral panic might really be better understood as a moral paradox because it seems somewhat contradictory that we condemn
A-Rod for his actions while we simultaneously engage in similar sorts of
behaviors. Such contradictions are one of the reasons why studying deviance can
be so fascinating. Behaviors that are deemed inappropriate are not always
inappropriate. In other words, we are not talking about a clear-cut moral case
of right and wrong.

To understand deviance
sociologically requires that we be cognizant of at least three important
dimensions: First, we need to consider the context in which the behavior occurs.
The location of our actions—both in terms of time and place—has a significant impact on how our
behaviors are perceived. Second, we must be tuned into the reaction of the
audience. If someone does something inappropriate but no one really cares is it
really inappropriate? Third, we should be aware of the status of those who are
engaging in the behaviors under question. Police officers can do things like
roll through stop signs and even go through red lights,  but if we engage in those behaviors we would
be given tickets.

The paradoxical nature of labeling
A-Rod a deviant was further articulated by Malcolm
Gladwell in an
article in The New Yorker. The
backlash against athletes who use PEDs revolves around them getting an unfair
advantage over their competition. But as Gladwell points out, there is
considerable ambiguity in determining who has an unfair advantage in sports.
Some athletes have naturally elevated levels of red blood cells making it
easier for them to deliver oxygen to their muscles (an essential component of
athletic excellence). Other athletes have extraordinary vision giving them a
decided advantage in sports like baseball where hand-eye coordination is key.

Beyond these athletes who have what
we might call PEGs (performance enhancing genetics), are those that have
surgically enhanced bodies that similarly aid their performance. Gladwell
discusses laser surgery for the eyes and tendon-replacement surgery for the
shoulder. Both procedures are allowed by Major League Baseball even though they
both “turn the athlete into an improved version of his natural self.” Why isn’t
this form of performance enhancing—much less the natural kind with
PEGs—considered cheating?

The question of what is considered
cheating extends well beyond the world of sports—especially when we
are talking about performance enhancing drugs. For example, should we allow students
to take drugs such as Adderall so that they can
perform on the SATS and other standardized test? Should we drug test musicians
to see if they are taking
beta blockers for anxiety before auditions or performances? Why condemn
athletes like A-Rod for using performance enhancing drugs when we condone
students and musicians, among others, for also using performance enhancing
drugs?