On Plagiarists and Lawyers

A few years ago, this young adult novel was published and subsequently pulled from shelves when it came to light that the novel had at least "45 'strikingly similar' passages" to Megan McCafferty's novels, and those of several other popular novelists. The author, Kaavya Viswanathan, claimed to have "internalized" passages from these books and "accidentally" incorporated them into her own, and despite the fact that no one really believes this is true, it seems to have been accepted--Viswanathan lost respect and her second book deal, but suffered no other repercussions of this fraud. She graduated from Harvard, where she was a student at the time of the scandal, and is now happily attending Georgetown Law.

I'm glad that this kind of fraud still causes at least some media scandal, because it means that most of us find this scandalous. But Viswanathan lost so little--shouldn't there be punishment for this? To me, this plagiarism is at most grand theft, and at least copyright infringement, both of which have serious punishments. Perhaps a tinge of jealousy is behind my desire for justice as well; not simply dishonesty, but also money got this girl's book published and got her into Harvard. She may be smart, but she has gotten much of what she has (and what I or people I know and love want) with a combination of money and dishonesty, neither of which I have in any great quantity. Perhaps I am not morally outraged: maybe I am just jealous.

Stolen Valor

The man pictured here in military dress is not a marine, nor is he at a costume party. Jesse Bernard Johnston III bluffed his way into the U.S. armed services, pretending to be an officer and committing a crime by wearing military honors under false pretenses. More shocking to me than this falsehood, however, was the following information from this article:

"In a recent court proceeding, Johnston's former wife, also an Army reservist, accused him of using falsified documents to make it appear he'd served in the Marines. Melanie Rolfing, 24, made the claim in a sworn statement filed last month in Fort Worth family court when she had her two-year-old marriage annulled, alleging fraud. Johnston did not contest the annulment."

Even after seeing, reading, or experiencing dozens of similar situations in news, television programs, literature, and my own life, I still cannot fathom a person having no idea who her spouse is, to the point that an annulment is both necessary and possible after two years of marriage. I'd like to think that I could neither befriend nor partner with a fraud, that my own honesty would repel this type of person, or at least illuminate his or her dishonesty, but I know this is not true. These types of frauds are successful simply because most others are honest, because the honest ones would never lie and therefore do not expect to be lied to. We are the types of people who would state "fraud" as a reason for annulment of marriage after two years, because it would take that long to detect our loved ones' lies.

"Oh, you must have confidence."

I've been looking for a moral lesson in Herman Melville's The Confidence-Man, or at least some way to properly understand the book, but so far I am simply confused. The confidence-man, who may or may not be the devil (according to copious notes in the Norton Critical Edition of this text), spends most of his time convincing misers, misanthropes, and other con men to gain "confidence" in others, and when they are ultimately convinced, he uses their new-found confidence to steal their money. Is this loss of economic wealth a punishment for faithlessness, or is it proof, for the miser and the suspicious barber, that they should never trust men (especially with their money)? The confidence-man, moreover, does not manage to get any money from his fellow con man, Charlie, but simply thwarts his companion's own attempts to swindle. The book seems to simultaneously attempt to increase its readers' "confidence" and advance a sort of misanthropy itself. Whom shall we trust, and why? What does Melville want us to believe?