Villain and Hero

September 23, 2021

My God, we humans are a complicated species. Just when I want to judge and condemn someone, the monster turns out to be a damn saint.

I’ve never been a fan of Muhammad Ali. I hate boxing, a brutal, barbaric sport, and I don’t like braggers or egomaniacs. Flashy clothes and cars have never appealed to me, and Ali’s early racial and religious animosities turned me off.

But after watching the Ken Burns documentary “Muhammad Ali” on PBS the last four nights, I gained a more nuanced understanding of the man and the appeal he had for millions of boxing fans and impoverished people worldwide. I still don’t like his style, but I appreciate and respect his courage, integrity, and generosity, while acknowledging his cruelty toward some of his opponents and his mistreatment of his many wives, girlfriends, and former friend Malcolm X.

Lucky for me that Ken Burns will never do a documentary on my life, because if he did he’d discover a shadow side perhaps as unsavory as that of Mr. Ali, albeit on a smaller scale. I haven’t been as abusive as Ali, but neither have I been as generous. Perhaps the main difference between Ali and the rest of us is that his strengths and weaknesses were played out on a much larger stage.

The reason I kept watching the four-part documentary in spite of my revulsion at the bloody violence of the boxing matches is that Ali’s story (and Burns’ storytelling) is compelling because it combines the sensitive and highly charged issues of race, religion, sexuality, money, class, and politics.

According to the documentary producers, “His brazen outspokenness and unsurpassed boxing skills made him a heroic symbol of black masculinity to African Americans across the country. Yet at times he seemed to take pride in humiliating his black opponents.” He portrayed himself as a champion of black people and Muslims, but was a devout follower of the black nationalist Nation of Islam which preached racial segregation and hatred of “white devils.” To his credit, he eventually outgrew his religious and racial prejudices to embrace a broader identity as a human being.

One issue for which I admire Ali unreservedly is his refusal to be drafted into the army during the Vietnam war. It’s not his unwillingness to serve that I find admirable, though I have no objection to that conscientious objector stance, but rather his willingness to go to jail for five years if he had been convicted of draft dodging. He could have easily finessed the issue by performing public relations or boxing exhibitions for the army, but he stood up for his beliefs as a matter of principle. And as a result, although he never had to go to jail, his unpopular political position cost him dearly in terms of his career and his income. How many people would give up millions in potential earnings at the height of their career to do what they believe is the right thing?

But the principled pacifist was a mean, divisive, and trash-talking athlete who heaped scorn and insults upon his mostly black boxing adversaries. Yet the same man helped to feed millions of hungry people around the world, and regularly gave wads of cash and even an expensive cashmere coat off of his back to people who asked him for help. He loved people, and constantly donated large sums of money and time to charities. The angry young boxer became a kindly, sweet-tempered old man. And in addition to his philanthropy, he gave hope and encouragement to the downtrodden everywhere, and by all accounts was unsparing in lavishing attention upon each person with whom he interacted after his retirement from the ring.

Muhammad Ali is not my hero, nor is he my villain. But now I understand why Ken Burns called him “the most beloved person on the planet.”