Our Great System

First and for most, thank you to Thomas Giovanni for giving us your time and pearls of wisdom: Why is it that everything I heard yesterday wasn’t a surprise but still hit me as if I had just heard it for the first time? As I heard the statistics and looked around me, a weight weighed heavily on my spirit. As I sat in that courtroom and saw one by one as each individual had an average 6 minute hearing, I couldn’t help but scuff and chuckle at how ridiculous this
reality was. Is this really OUR system? Irrevocably and undeniably to my disdain, it very much is! Mario Rocha was tried and convicted on 1st degree murder and spent 10 years of his life in prison before his conviction was reversed. Fernando Bermudez was tried and convicted of 1st degree murder and spent 18 years in prison before his conviction was reversed. Jeffrey Deskovic was tried and convicted of sexual assault and murder and spent 15 years in prison before his conviction was reversed. All three men have been exonerated since and have had their records wiped as if it never existed. BUT IT DID. These men were given counsel and were tried by their peers by the very same system that we say prevails of which I guess in some ways it did for these men. On the other hand, those ten minutes that was allotted Mario Rocha, Fernando Bermudez, and Jeffrey Deskovic were obviously not enough to help their counsel better prepare an argument to the judge for at least bail. None were released from the point of being arrested. Did these men really get their ‘Due Process? While in D.C., Christal Wood, a single mom and law school graduate is now suing the state of Washington for involuntary servitude. I never really realized it until Thomas put it into words but the system does run on indigenous communities of which if there would be none if they didn’t exist. I will finish with a wise man’s quote regarding what is supposed to be our social justice system: “I thought we were supposed to keep people in cages because we are afraid of them not mad at them.”

Who to Believe?

We all have different ways of interpreting, translating, and perceiving ideas, concepts, and situations, which makes it difficult for us to trust anybody including the criminal justice system. We believe that the criminal justice system has the answer to everything relating to crime, but do we really trust them? Does the criminal justice system perform to the full extent of the real meaning of the word “justice”?

Usually, when I am sitting in court listening to the cases, most of which are drug use, I have always asked myself how does the judge know what decision to make or whose side to take. I have seen some defendants, charged with the same offense, being released on ROR (Release on own recognizance), bail, or ACD (Adjourned contemplating dismal). ACD is when the defendant is released with the condition that he/she does not commit another offense within 6 months and their case is dismissed. Before anything, the judge learns about the defendant’s case, but the judge only gets a quick overview of why he/she got arrested. The judge does not know the needy details of the incident, and therefore she would be basically making a decision based on the police officer’s point of view. In my point of view, this is not fair or justifiable because the judge does not know exactly what went on. What if the cop maybe slipped a bag of weed into the defendant’s pocket or book bag just to fulfill his/her duty for the day? Or what if one of his friends tried to get rid of their bag of weed by hiding it in their back bag? There could be so many perspectives, but which one do we believe. It is like we are caught up between the wall and the sword not knowing whose side to take. I wonder since we all have different perspectives on certain issues does the side we choose to believe, is it in any way affected by our culture, values, morals, or traditions?

What "Work" Does Vera's Founding Narrative Perform? 

Scribbled first in my “Vera Visit” notes are the words “the narrative.” I wrote them while listening to Michael Jacobson talk about Vera’s founding, which we’ve all read about in Roberts' biography of Sturz’s life. For a moment, I couldn’t help thinking about Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man while listening to Vera’s founding myth. (I ask that everyone suspend judgment about the use of the term “myth” for a moment.) Ellison has a comical scene in the novel describing the Homeric trials and tribulations of “The Founder” as he escapes from slavery and embarks upon a dramatic odyssey across the South before finally founding the historic black college, based loosely on Tuskegee University, that the main character attends at one point in the book. Part parody of Tuskegee founder Booker T. Washington’s autobiography Up from Slavery, the founding myth is trotted out and re-enacted yearly for an audience of the college’s rich white benefactors, for whom the dramatized struggle for individual freedom, culminating in the triumphant founding of the college, facilitates their blindness to the continuing racism and racial injustice that surrounds them. What I want to take away from Ellison here is the idea that a narrative performs some kind of work. I’d like to focus this week’s blog on thinking about what kind of work Vera’s founding narrative might perform for Vera.

First, a quick word about narrative and myth: I don’t use the term “myth” to suggest that the story of Vera’s founding is somehow untrue. I use it to highlight the fact that all narrative, perhaps particularly historical narrative, is 1) necessarily incomplete—distorted by and circumscribed within language; 2) deliberately dramatized to make not only a particular point but also an interesting story based on the conventions of storytelling; and 3) subject to revision and reinterpretation across time and through retellings and rehearings.

            Jacobson naturally started out his talk (“In 1961…”) by retelling the story Vera tells about its founding, but Evan Elkin also used elements of the story to illustrate points he wanted to make in his talk. For example, in explaining to us that all demonstration projects contain within them a “theory of change,” he used an example from the founding myth: “If you let poor people go home while awaiting trial, they’ll come back to court.” The use of this example exhibits elements of pure practicality; it’s a ready-made, familiar example that makes explanation easier. But there is also drama and pathos built into the story of how Sturz and Schweitzer noticed a particular injustice—poor people who were presumed innocent lingering in squalid jails only because they could not afford bail—and did something about it—The Manhattan Bail Project. It’s a good example because it smuggles the ideals behind Vera’s work into the explanation, making their articulation unnecessary. It’s also interesting to think here about how this element, the theory of change, which someone came up with at some point after the occurrence of the events described in the founding myth, has been retrospectively inserted into the myth as a characteristic feature of what Vera does and has always done. Thus, in addition to its practical and emotional uses, Vera’s founding narrative serves to maintain a sense of continuity—even if this means slight, almost unconscious revisions to the narrative as time passes—that helps to institutionalize both Vera’s ideals and the organization itself.

            In addition to this institutionalizing work, the founding myth seems to serve as a sort of touchstone, an idealized site into which the vagaries of day-to-day operations and pressures can no longer intrude. I was somewhat astonished to hear Elkin's candid discussion of the “quick turnaround projects” that Vera does. He gave the example of “a mayor who has a year left and says he wants to do something significant and asks, ‘Can you help me cook something up?’” A project cooked up with a politician concerned about his legacy seems somewhat disjointed from ideas such as “all demonstration projects have a theory of change” and “all demonstrations projects are a piece of science.” While the demands placed upon Vera in reality by politicians and other people in government “sometimes inhibit the ability to fully develop a project and give it time to grow and then test it,” the founding myth represents a pristine place in which everything works perfectly: the injustice is noticed; the project is designed; the project has time to grow; the project is tested; the project is funded; the system becomes more just. In some way, the founding narrative must operate as a bulwark against the erosion of Vera’s ideal self and a source of inspiration, even a reminder, about what people there are doing and why.

Desensitization of Language

"F**k (you/off/my life/that/this)!", is America's favorite curse. Nevertheless, the use of the words "perpetrator", "delinquent", and other titles given to the "client" and "victim" seemed even more disrespectful in the way they were used. While we were discussing the use of language in our agencies in class, I realized that there are so many phrases and titles that are probably more disrespectful than the F-word. Intensity and tones also play into how disrespectful a word can be, but generally we seem to take more offense to labels that others put on us than curse words. On the other hand, even some titles that we use can seem overused and in some cases turned into words that don't seem to hold any disrespect anymore when used by specific people (e.g., N-word, ho, queer). In class, the word c*nt came up as another bad word, but as Americans, we may be more desensitized to the word. If you ever hear a British person call somebody else a c*nt, they definitely mean to disrespect more than if an American were to say it. The modern parent shouldn't discipline their children about which curse words count as "no-no" words but also some bad labels that shouldn't be used.

On the subject of labels that our agency workers use to distinguish others behind their backs and in their faces, it seems like there is a conscious effort to get away from what we have been desensitized to. Instead of giving somebody the label of victim, we use survivor. Instead of perpetrator or delinquent, we use client. When we are in public, we make an effort to get away from what we have learned to call others our whole life, but it's so easy to fall back into the same mindset when we're not in proximity of those who might take offense. Does that mean we should always be thinking about how to change ourselves to only speak in a respectful tone? No, we should often try to speak in a respectful manner, but the slangs and slurs of everyday language is also useful to know. It's easier on the brain to release the constricting rules of respect and just let loose when you need to relieve stress. Maybe that's what the people in the group sessions were doing at Timothy's agency, so it's okay for them to use the N-word. However, once the other employees are in the office, it's time for them to go back to work, so they should be thinking about how to speak without offending anybody. Then again, this way of thinking is only my own opinion.

Aside from desensitizing ourselves to bad words and labels, it seems like people are becoming more accustomed to bad language in the manner that Mr. George Orwell does not want society to fall into. We keep using phrases and language that sound good, but the meaning itself doesn't matter as long as it sounds similar to what we want to express. I notice that the words we use in everyday language are fads. As new phrases and words become popular, they become overused until the meaning is lost and changed in some cases. I am sorry Mr. Orwell, but I will be ending this post with a word that I believe is an example of my last statement and also breaks your fifth rule (never use a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent), swag!

Got Charity?

Day 2 of Support Group Fridays (aka Trauma #2):

"Did you want a coke?" I ask the teenager who I assumed was waiting for his mother. He politely replied "No thanks." A Case Manager breezed by to greet him and took him to have a meeting with him in our office. It still took me a couple minutes before I realized he was a client! He was 18, HIV positive and formerly homeless. I was speechless the entire meeting and could not shake the shame I felt in myself. How the hell could society ignore him to the point of homelessness, he's just a kid. I found out later he has no family. 'Kyle' became a homosexual and had contacted AIDS from a sexual experience. Since he was 18, he was officially considered an 'adult' and not allowed back to his foster home....

Even after he left, I was so upset with the fact that this kid had to endure these hardships and he was barely out of high school. As Professor Stein said in class: We want all our victims to act a certain way and look like a certain type. For HSI, all the clients I had met and had read their case files on we're older with estranged children, of a minority group and had a bit of rougher personality. My brain almost refused to accept Kyle as a client, I was determined that no one would let a kid 'fall' like this. Where was the charity his entire life?

Who's really the person helping? The good looking social entrepreneur who has time in life or the ones that used to be this kid's neighbors when he did have a family? Who could of helped him before this... As Robert said in class, "It's about rights you have, not having to deserve them." Charity doesn't have to be a big time non-profit or have a celebrity reinforcing it. I think some people have forgotten that charity can just be an individual act. Just helping one's neighbor is a work of charity. I think if Kyle had someone who was nice to him once in his life or reached out a hand, he might have made some different decisions. Does the general public assume the only way to help is donate money, let the non-profit companies handle it and think they've got it taken care of? There is a disconnect with helping someone on a personal basis or just assuming "someone else will do it." Has society completely lost their hospitality complex?

What Am I Missing?

BY PROFESSOR STEIN

My free association around our class session leads me back to the many issues that appear, at first, as polarities: the aspirational self versus the self-in-progress, the pragmatic mission versus the ideological one, the “real self” (imagine those as exaggerated air quotes) versus the self we perform for others, the heroic rescuer versus the grassroots reformer. I prefer to think of them all as paradoxes rather than polarities, each side complementing the other. Complementarity refers to the fact that the world is realized in dual ways; everything has a visible and an invisible side. When we perceive red, we can’t perceive green. They are color complements. This doesn’t mean that one color stops existing when you see the other. The principle is most aptly illustrated in figure-ground illusions: here you see a vase, there two profiles meeting. It has been used to great effect in art, such as Dali’s famous painting of Abraham Lincoln. If you view the painting from afar, you see only the face of the former president. If observed up close, the painting details the death of Christ. You can never see both images at once, although they exist simultaneously and, in fact, are mutually constituted. Both skilled art and metaphor: without the lines and shapes and colors that make Christ, there is no Lincoln. In this course, we will keep prodding to ask what you are NOT seeing when you focus on something, what you are NOT thinking about or discussing when you choose a particular issue to highlight.

Our last session focused on the internship experience. I keep picturing all of you being dropped on your heads in the middle of these new cultures. For some, this is stranger in a strange land time. However-as Ruby and Roberto noted-for other Fellows, the faces of the clients or the problems the seminar is addressing are startlingly familiar. Your empathy gets drawn from the well of your own identification; you feel like you know what people are going through because you have been there, done that. When you do not have an immediate simpatico, it may be more difficult to find the right rhythm but easier to find a pinch of objectivity. You see something different than the first person, who is paying attention to how in sync they feel. But you also may miss subtle things that the more naturally attuned person picks up. Same thing with a disciplinary perspective. Professor Reitz is an English professor. Maybe she sees people as walking narratives. I favor psychology so everyone looks nuts to me.

Because we have asked you to reflect on the overlaps and divergences between your personal mission and those of your agency, please take this post to brainstorm how we might bring all of ourselves (and all of our selves) to bear on the internship and seminar experience. So far, in the short a time you have been at your agency and in the seminar, what are you seeing/hearing that you didn’t expect to see/hear? Are there any assumptions you didn’t know you were making (about yourself or others) that you are suddenly questioning? Through which particular lenses have you/we reflexively looked at social justice? What might we all be missing?

And now for a word from a Vera Fellowship alum...

By LENECIA LEWIS (VF '10-'11; Esperanza, Common Justice)

As a VERA Fellow, I spent most of last semester dissecting the idea of a not for profit organization. During that time I focused a lot on philanthropy and was often reminded about the newness of the title social entrepreneur. The term is always loosely defined, but is widely agreed to describe a new kind of philanthropist. One who is thought to consider the business of non-profits as more than just charitable giving. But despite the broad nature of the definition, the term is mostly used to describe a particular type of individual.

Usually a recent college graduate, the social entrepreneur has been inspired by an eye-opening trip to (insert developing country name here). Fired up by the “injustice of it all”, the social entrepreneur gathers and commands a youth advocate army. Weapons of choice include: a Cannon EOS 40D camera, an acoustic guitar, and an active account on all social media outlets. Most often the social entrepreneur will become the creator of a symbolic, yet trendy, line of apparel or jewelry. Their philosophy: “Save the world, look cool doing it”*.

Having spent the past four years entrenched in the world of the social entrepreneur, I know this profile very well. Imagine my surprise when this exact term was used to describe none other than our own Herb Sturz.

In a panel interview about his book A Kind of Genius, Sam Roberts commented that Sturz is the epitome of a social entrepreneur and has been for the past 50 years. Far longer than the term itself has been in use. Naturally this was difficult for me to reconcile. But certainly Sturz’s approach to social injustice was to go way above and beyond charitable giving. So of course Roberts has to be correct. Right? Which must mean that the way in which social entrepreneurs have been popularly categorized is fairly meaningless. Right? If indeed Herb Sturz and the above described character are both of the same breed, then what does this mean about the way we separate and categorize efforts to solve social justice issues?

Initially, I wanted to post about the evolution of the non-profit sector. From charitable giving all the way up to philanthrocapitalism (a neologism that deserves its own post entirely). My intention was to place Herb Sturz somewhere along this evolutionary spectrum. It seems, however, that the spectrum is merely cosmetic. That each form of ‘new and improved philanthropy’ is merely a way to modernize and advertise the efforts of those involved.

Curiosity has gotten the best of me. Now that you have read about Sturz’s work in New York, and before you begin your work at your own non-profit agency, I would like to know how you see it: How do you understand the role of the social entrepreneur? Are they truly the new and improved face of philanthropy?

*Point of reference, Blake Mycoskie of “TOMS Shoes”.