WHEN DID AMERICA ESTABLISH A PRESUMPTION OF GUILT?

At what point did the presumption of innocence become a lost idea in this nation? While perhaps impossible to trace that question, a high-water mark in its examination might have occurred in recent weeks with extensive media coverage of an accusation of sexual molestation against Catholic Cardinal Joseph Bernardin of Chicago. The incidents that are the source of this allegation (and, naturally, of a $10 million lawsuit) supposedly occurred 17 years ago. And as much as we would like to believe justice will take its course, television producers, late-night comics, editorial cartoonists and other fixtures of the mass media have already tried this one.

Cardinal Bernardin has been a high-profile member of a church that often takes principled stands. In other words, he has a target painted on him. Steven J. Cook, age 34 and a sufferer of AIDS, accuses Cardinal Bernardin of sexually abusing him between 1975 and 1977 when Cook was a student at St. Gregory Seminary in Cincinnati. The complaint only recently arose out of what is known in psychological circles as "recovered memory," a theory of cognitive processes greeted with skepticism by many in that profession. To the discredit of our industry, many news outlets took the accusations hook, line and sinker, publishing and broadcasting the Cook statements as if they were gospel. Cardinal Bernardin could do little but deny the charges and ask for a speedy trial.

A real problem to be found in this, not at all insignificant, is the light that is ultimately cast on child abuse cases, both inside and outside the Catholic church. With the proliferation of accusations concerning such misconduct (substitute here infidelity, paternity suits, sexual harassment, and so on) and the accompanying monetary angle (the large lawsuit settlements), a very real problem becomes overshadowed. And when a real case of child abuse comes along, it will not be viewed as such, but rather as one more entry on a tawdry list.

While certainly on a different level, there are parallels in this instance with the assertions that have swirled around entertainer Michael Jackson, a man who has continually worked on behalf of children's causes but now stands suspected of molesting young people. As a rich rock star, one who has done better than most in promoting charitable endeavors, Jackson became vulnerable to persons who might feel his wealth is something to be shared. Confronting him with scandalous charges, whether they are true or not, could be worth a considerable sum to the accuser.

Are Cardinal Bernardin and Michael Jackson guilty of any wrongdoing? Evidence may eventually prove they are, but the point is that the men stand guilty already -- publicly and irreversibly humiliated -- by the manner in which the accusations were treated as rock-hard facts. In the gradual drift of American journalism toward the dirty-laundry mentality favored by tabloids and tabloid television, even the purest of souls stands defenseless in the face of some accuser's sleazy pronouncement. Raymond Donovan served as President Reagan's secretary of labor before groundless charges drove him from office. When he was cleared of any wrongdoing, he went before media and asked a simple question: "Where do I go to get my reputation back?" It's a good question, one without a good answer.

The Roman Catholic Church in America, like any large institution, has its problems. There have been enough documented and admitted incidents of sexual misconduct among Catholic clergy to rightfully trouble the church. And it is true that higher-ups in this institution have occasionally mishandled legitimate complaints. However, we find in these facts no good reason to begin painting the problem with such a broad brush that all official parties are guilty upon accusation.