I have been spending a lot of time lately thinking about the struggle for justice. I say that as though it’s some singular monolithic thing, but I’m well aware it is not except in the most abstract sense. Still, it’s a conceptual rallying point for me, and for essentially everyone I connect with on a regular basis. I wish I could say it’s a universal ideal, but evidence that it isn’t is everywhere.
I think justice is one of those words that is used to stand for a variety of concepts, some of which aren’t even mutually compatible, in a freewheeling enough manner that people can literally fail to communicate on a basic level while believing that they’ve completely succeeded. For me, the word “justice” primarily addresses a concept of fundamental fairness and equality. In its simplest terms it can be understood from a preschool context – it’s fair to share the blocks with the other children, so everyone can play. It’s fair to take turns on the swings, and make sure everyone gets a snack at snack time. Implicit in this is a definition of who’s included in the sharing: everyone, without exception. If there are eight apples and ten kids, it’s not fair to pick two kids who do not get apples – a just solution would involve cutting the apples up so everyone gets as close to an equal amount as possible. As far as I can recall, no one had to tell me that universal inclusion was good; it seems to be a conclusion I came to on my own. Probably under the hood there are elements of empathy and abstraction at play. I know from personal experience that being left out sucks, and can infer that it would suck for others. I don’t want to suffer, and I don’t want others to suffer either. I cannot enjoy a thing knowing that it came at the specific and particular cost of someone else’s suffering. So to me, it feels self-evident that justice involves not merely seeking out a positive outcome for some, but also minimizing negative outcomes for all.
However, I know this isn’t a universal experience. There are those for whom the suffering of other people is not much of a concern, others for whom it’s not a factor at all, and still others who actively enjoy and seek out the creation of suffering in as many people as they can get away with. I suspect there’s at least an overlap between this set of people and those who conceptualize justice quite differently – as something that is defined in the context of a social hierarchy and a set of rules. In this context, there is an in group which is to be protected and supported. The in group has a leader, to whom loyalty is owed as a good unto itself. This leader defines rules, and enforces those rules with violence and exile. Those who demonstrate loyalty and obedience may enjoy some amount of protection by the leader, even if this protection comes in the form of “receiving less violence than the others from the leader.” Here, “justice” doesn’t mean equality; it’s the furthest thing from it. Instead, “justice” looks like punishment for disloyalty, or for breaking the rules laid down by the leader. The minimization of suffering isn’t a goal here; in fact, it may be counterproductive in this context, where demonstration of the leader’s violent power is maximized when cruelty is maximized.
I have to pause here to underscore the connections between these two concepts of justice and a feminist approach on the one hand, and a patriarchal approach on the other. I believe that a feminist framework for justice centers ensuring that all, starting with the most vulnerable, are cared for, and that resources are shared. This framing of justice treats no one as disposable, and aims to advance humankind by making us all resiliently interdependent. It is not based in violence and does not inherently even employ violence as a tool. The focus is on healing, growth, and a deep respect for the fundamental dignity of each person.
The patriarchal approach to justice is, from the outset, rooted in violence. The principal interaction is one in which the individual with the greatest capacity for violence establishes dominance through fear. A permanently asymmetric distribution of resources, respect, support, and protection are both presumed and reified at every step. In this model, justice exists only when the leader receives all benefits, the obedient subordinates serve without question, and the disobedient and othered are punished without mercy.
I think about these things in this current moment as I look at events unfolding all around me. Renee Nicole Good, a lesbian mother, was killed recently when an agent of the state shot her in the head. News coverage around the incident has frequently either completely erased her queerness or demonized it in an effort to demonstrate that taking her life was somehow okay, or even good and laudable. The President of the United States said this of the incident: “The woman screaming was, obviously, a professional agitator, and the woman driving the car was very disorderly, obstructing and resisting, who then violently, willfully, and viciously ran over the ICE officer, who seems to have shot her in self-defense.” Leaving aside that none of the statements the President made are even factual, as multiple angles of video footage (including some shot by the ICE officer himself!) clearly demonstrate, the President’s framing of the situation makes clear that he characterizes anything less than instant subservient obedience to his power (as represented in this case by the ICE agent) as meriting punishment by death. Unsurprisingly, this is consonant with the patriarchal construction of justice I discussed earlier.
Meanwhile, ICE continues its program of creating and filling concentration camps both domestically and abroad. Trump and his ilk have a clear intention to pursue “ethnic cleansing” in the United States and create a white, Christian, fascist ethnostate in its wake. Trans people face attacks from Christofascists in legislatures and the public square, as well as (disappointingly) self-styled “gender critical feminists” whose definition of feminism cannot stretch to actually include all women. Foreign policy is no sunnier; Trump’s imperial expansionist designs on Venezuela and Greenland are certain to visit atrocities on uncountably many innocent people and may well kindle another world war into the bargain.
In such an overwhelming shitstorm it is often attractive to contemplate curling up into a ball and hiding deep in a cave, hoping the destruction somehow misses oneself. For me, though, this isn’t an option. Because my understanding of justice won’t permit it. My feminism demands the health, safety, and dignity even of those women who refuse to acknowledge mine. When any person anywhere suffers, I feel it keenly as a failure of humanity to be its best self. I know that perfect global justice will not be seen in my lifetime, and that I cannot ever hope to even see it in my local community. But I’m reminded of the Jewish concept of tikkun olam – the effort to heal and improve the world. Referring to this concept, in Pirkei Avot, a rabbi is quoted as having said “It is not up to you to complete the task, but you are not free to avoid it.” I feel this in my bones.