Reading Response: Jon Krakauer’s Three Cups of Deceit and “Story Updates”

From start to finish, Jon Krakauer’s Three Cups of Deceit works to debunk the brand supposed philanthropist Greg Mortenson has skillfully, fraudulently crafted around himself and his organization, the Central Asia Institute. Though I had read newspaper articles about the allegations made against Mortenson and the CAI by Krakauer and many subsequent sources, I had previously been unaware of the depth of the fraud, and the depths to which Krakauer dug in order to expose the organization for the sham that it largely is. I found Three Cups of Deceit to be completely engrossing and fascinating, both in its content and form.

I was intrigued by the tone in which Krakauer begins his deeply researched expose. The first quarter of the piece smacks of sarcasm and apparent anger—which, not previously knowing Krakauer’s personal involvement in the CAI, stood out to me as a questionable stylistic tactic to employ in an investigative piece of writing. As he sets up the reader with necessary information about Mortenson and his alleged accomplishments, I found that the language, as well as the excerpts from Stones to Schools and Three Cups of Tea selected by Krakauer provided a tone to the piece that fell far from neutrality. Krakauer writes, “As Mortenson walked into the settlement, a throng of local youngsters, fascinated by the tall foreigner, gathered around him. ‘By the time he reached the village’s ceremonial entrance…he was leading a procession of fifty children.’” (Pg 4) In his summary of the passage, Krakauer asserts that Mortenson was followed by a “throng” of children and then follows this up by a quote from the book detailing “a procession of fifty children.” The contrast between Krakauer’s summary and Mortenson’s telling appears to me to immediately position Mortenson as self-important and an exaggerator.  Further on that same page, Krakauer’s annoyance with Mortenson’s role in the “creation myth” can be read through his choice of language. “Owing to his wrong turn, he’d blundered into a village called Korphe.” (Pg 4) The use of the word “blundered” creates yet another contrast between Mortenson’s telling (that finding Korphe was a happy accident) and Krakauer’s interpretation (that Mortenson’s supposed discovery was a result of his lack of knowledge and climbing skills). In these pages, as Krakauer works to slowly unraveling the layers of lies and misinformation surrounding the CAI, the tone is established—with the language and excerpt choices, the text guides the reader into a sense that the information Mortenson has put out is perhaps not what it appears to be.

It wasn’t until page 7, when Krakauer begins to divulge his personal and financial involvement in the CAI that I began to question the legitimacy of his choice to employ a critical tone from the get-go.  No wonder Krakauer’s language is laden with resentment, I thought. He personally feels duped and angry—meaning that his tone may be more of a reflection of his own emotions revolving around Mortenson’s deceptions than intellectual, fact-based outrage. Then I got to thinking—does a writer need to be completely personally disconnected from a subject in order to provide a “fair” critical evaluation? Is it even possible for a writer to extract their personal feelings, especially when it comes to a topic that needs to be so deeply researched and analyzed? What are the advantages to having a personal stake in or perspective on the story?

In thinking deeply about these questions in relation to Three Cups of Deceit, I found myself rising to Krakauer’s defense. Yes, he no doubt harbors resentments against Mortenson and the CAI, but why would this completely compromise his ability to critically analyze the subjects? His inside knowledge on Mortenson and the workings (or lack thereof) of his organization helped to embolden and substantiate his evaluations. He seems to prove his objectivity by showing the reader that he has been on both sides of the fence—for and against Mortenson—thus providing convincing context to the basis of his arguments. Most importantly, Krakauer’s work is built around meticulous, traceable research and only peppered by stories of his personal experiences. It is the research that carries Three Cups of Deceit, that makes it so frighteningly conclusive. This suggests to me that a writer’s personal involvement with a subject may be used without compromising the integrity of the piece as long as objective research builds the foundation and basis of the argument. Krakauer seems to have gotten it right—using tone and language to foreshadow his research-based bombshells and personal experience to demonstrate both inside knowledge and a full understanding of the nuances of the subject and stakes involved in blowing the lid off Mortenson and his organization.

            On a separate subject, I also wanted to make a note about the “Story Updates” Krakauer regularly publishes on byliner.com. There are apparent advantages to publishing Three Cups of Deceit online, including the fact that instantaneous, cheap access allows for a greater number of people to read the book. However, I had not previously realized that one of the greatest advantages to publishing in a digital medium such as this allows for—and even demands—continued investigation and dialogue, therefore keeping the story alive. That Krakauer can immediately respond to new claims, link readers to articles by other news sources and publish so-called responses from CAI allows for this story to emerge out from under the stagnant page and into the light of the everyday. From personal experience I know how difficult it is to send a story to press even as the subject it presents is still unfolding. Providing an online location for the author to continue the investigation and to respond to criticism or story development helps to keep a story or article alive beyond deadlines and print runs.