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This week has been so difficult. Obviously we're at a point of absolute national crisis and that takes up a lot of mental space. But here in Omaha and of course also in Louisville, we're hammered by examples of a justice system that doesn't function for one part of our community.
If we're not talking about the murders of James Scurlock and Breonna Taylor because they happened somewhere else to someone else, or because we're focused on all the other terrible things that are happening, then we're ignoring the way that these murders are allowed, legitimated.
We can't ignore that justice simply isn't experienced the same way for everyone in our communities. Twenty years ago, when I first started working in prisons and learning (and teaching) restorative justice, I was fortunate to spend time with Howard Zehr, a pioneer in this field.
From Zehr and from the activists, victims, prisoners, and community leaders I met, I learned that in parts of our communities justice is experienced like rain: something over which we have no control and which is unrelated to our actions. Sometimes it rains; sometimes it doesn't.
By contrast Zehr writes, "True justice requires...that we ask questions [like]: Who has been hurt? What do they need? Whose obligations and responsibilities are these? Who has a stake in this situation? What is the process that can involve the stakeholders in finding a solution?”
We have a great deal of work to do before justice is something that we all experience, rather than something about which so many of us feel hopeless or cynical. A victim-centered justice system, one that is constantly grappling with issues of power and inequity, is long overdue.
