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< | What role, if any, will faith play in my pursuit for justice? | >
> | What can and should I do in order to sustain a drive in the pursuit of justice? | | | | |
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< | -- By JessicaRo - 11 Mar 2017 | >
> | -- By JessicaRo - 31 May 2017 | | | | |
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< | In our recent discussions concerning John Brown, we briefly touched upon the role of faith in the religious sense. Brown’s faith shaped him and his every action, enabling him to fervently fight for freedom, even if it meant going through with an Abraham-like sacrifice of his son and the forfeiture of his own life. MLK was introduced into the conversation as another individual who was killed in furtherance of the pursuit for justice and equality. Like Brown, MLK was also a man of devout faith, explaining in a sermon that “actually all that I do in civil rights I do because I consider it a part of my ministry.” I was also reminded of figures like Joan of Arc, who engaged in battle after receiving divine visions, and Yu Kwan-soon, another teenage girl who became a renowned Christian activist in her protests against Japanese occupation, a cause she died for at seventeen. History has long told stories of heroes who died for the greater good, with their causes necessarily intertwined with their religious convictions. | >
> | In my first draft, I asked what role faith would play in my pursuit for justice. Upon reading the comments and engaging in some further reflection, I realized that I had raised the wrong question. Rather than focusing on religious faith, a topic that remains elusive and distant for an irreligious person like myself, the more pertinent question I had meant to ask was: what can and should I do in order to sustain my drive in the pursuit of justice? Or, to phrase it more crudely: how do I not become lazy? | | | | |
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< | Reflecting on these individuals’ tenacity in the face of incredible backlash, it appears that their unwavering faith in an almighty higher power, and perhaps the corresponding belief of an afterlife, acted as a major source of fuel for their actions. But in the present state of our country, where injustice still reigns but, unlike generations prior, religious nonbelief is concurrently rising, what role, if any, will faith play in my and my peers’ pursuit for justice? | >
> | Throughout my four years as an undergraduate student in Chicago, my day-to-day routine was saturated with opportunities to learn about and engage with policy. During the day, I attended lectures and seminars mostly pertaining to my public policy major, and in the late afternoon, I was typically either at my part-time tutoring gig or volunteering at a nearby elementary school. In the evening, my focus shifted back to my course load and thesis, with much of this time spent paging through case studies or writing my own material. I also joined several policy research groups at school. As most of them involved fieldwork, it was not atypical to spend a day going around the city with peers to survey people on the street or interview a particular figure. Albeit on a micro scale, i.e., a classroom of elementary school kids or as part of an undergrad research practicum, I felt as if I were participating in something of substance. And it was the satisfaction that I derived from such work that propelled me to apply to law school; I wanted to up my game, foster more macro-level changes. | | | | |
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< | Not unlike many first- and second-generation Korean-Americans, I grew up in a moderately religious Protestant household. I dissociated from my church, however, at a fairly young age (I believe I was in the fifth grade). I did not particularly like my youth pastor nor did I believe 90% of what came out of his mouth. I was told I needed to have “faith.” I have since claimed neither faith nor disbelief in God, a mindset that is more prevalent among Millennials than it has been for previous American generations. Dr. Jean Twenge of San Diego State University attributes this waning interest in religion to a growing emphasis on individualism in U.S. culture. | >
> | But for a multitude of reasons, I decided it would be best to wait a couple years before matriculating, returning to my hometown where I found work at a small, telecommunications tech firm. Although I was not particularly interested in the field of telecom, the job was attractive in various other respects: the office atmosphere was open and relaxed; my coworkers were incredibly affable; and I was making enough of a salary so that I could help out family, accumulate savings for school, and have some pocket change for the occasional happy hour or concert. I was also volunteering with the LA Public Library's adult literacy program on the side but these sessions barely took up more than a couple hours per week. And so within those two years my routine transformed. I talked telecom with clients during the day and spent my evenings shooting the shit with friends over cheap beer or slouched across the sofa at my guy’s dank apartment. Rinse, repeat. I was becoming increasingly idle...and loving it. | | | | |
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< | But as faith has for so long played a leading role in how the individual conducts her life, especially in acts that are nested in the realm of morality, it seems fallacious to presume that faith will dissipate altogether in the individual’s pursuit of justice, even with increasing secularity. Yet if not in religion, where does one devote her faith? And where do we derive the conviction to act outside ourselves? | >
> | A year later, I can review the extent of my disengagement during this period and, more troublingly, how perfectly complacent I was. I do not doubt that I was at least partially responding to feelings of burnout and/or acting on hedonistic desires that I would conveniently like to attribute to being 22/23 years old. Regardless of the selected excuse, there is no denying that I had hit peak sloth. However active of a student and community member I may have been prior, it became clear that I am by no means immune to slumping into a nest of laziness, especially in the absence of the regimented schedule and pressure associated with school. For whatever reason, I had thought that the determination to go out into the world and do good was, in large part, inherently driven and sustained. But it is not, at least not for me. | | | | |
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< | My immediate thought was directed at this growing phenomenon we call “mindfulness.” Mindfulness has become very fashionable. It is the most common quasi-exception I see among my otherwise irreligious peers, aligning with the also popular “spiritual but not religious” stance. I have practiced mindfulness meditation myself but admittedly not with any consistency. As law students, we are frequently exposed to the word “mindfulness,” from the emails detailing the weekly mindfulness meditation sessions held on Wednesdays and signs advocating mental health support posted on the toilet stalls. For several months, the 14th Street subway passage featured a lengthy stretch of ads promoting Headspace, a guided mindfulness meditation phone app with a valuation estimated by Forbes of about $250 million. | >
> | So in returning to my original question: what can and should I do to in order to retain the drive to pursue justice, prevent it from dissipating as it once did? While this answer is almost painfully obvious, I am realizing more and more how essential it is that I find a career that directly relates to the causes and goals I wish to promote, and fast. In other words, a position in an unrelated field in which I assure myself that pro bono work is available on the side, will likely not suffice. I need a dominating presence. In addition to the substance of the work, a position that directly involves my causes and goals will also (hopefully) surround me with peers who are similarly driven and can act as another source of motivation. | | | | |
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< | Mindfulness, however, is often publicized and/or marketed in a manner that is linked to the concept of self-care. It is a self-centered tool that allows one to become more in touch with the self, supporting Dr. Twenge’s observation of our country’s increasing emphasis on individualism. This is in stark contrast, however, to the faith of our Browns and Kings which was expansive and pervaded far beyond the individual. Where in mindfulness does the individual place her faith? In herself? | >
> | At the time of composing this draft, I have been with the LA City Attorney’s office for two weeks and am already thoroughly impressed with the level of work and dedication displayed by the attorneys with whom I have engaged. Although I am specifically assigned to the Consumer Workplace Protection unit, several attorneys from other departments have stopped by my desk to ask if I want to tag along to observe trials. I have thus sat in on cases involving the exploitation of minors on the internet, the invasion of privacy, and charity fraud, among others. While they differ in their principal issues, all these cases touch on my longstanding goal, which is to provide a voice for those in the city who find themselves without one. Seeing the attorneys at work and conversing with them one-on-one has fostered lunchtime chats with the other interns as well as my own supplemental research. | | | | |
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< | But perhaps the practice of mindfulness leads the individual to become so self-aware so as to elevate to a state of Maslowian self-transcendence where she ultimately acts towards goals outside the self, in the pursuit of justice and prevention of injustice. Yet I am skeptical of this goal for two reasons primarily. One, mindfulness, like most things that achieve trendiness, is becoming more and more something to be consumed in the marketplace, a phenomenon I find incongruent with the attainment of self-transcendence. Secondly, the United States thrives off a highly individualistic culture. Religion has seemingly remained one of the county’s few stable institutions that foster the type of moral community described by Durkheim. | >
> | And so I feel the fire under my ass being re-lit -- and within the drab, beige walls of a government building, no less. As excited I am about this renaissance of sorts, I now understand that I must proceed with a different approach, acknowledging that the fire pushing me toward my goals is one that that will need to be tended to with persistent care. | | | | |
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< | Collectivist cultures, on the other hand, feature a process of socialization (and one not necessarily tied to religion) that can become so psychologically ingrained in the individual that it can induce the individual to end her life. Confucian-based collectivist countries in East Asia have some of the highest suicide rates among OECD countries, a statistic that is not so alarming given the longstanding history of honor and altruistic suicides in Japan and South Korea. Of course I am not advocating for suicide. But I question whether the social forces at work in these collectivist countries can be turned on their head to spur the progression of social justice instead. Yet, seeing that our country’s individualism-centered culture is unlikely to undergo a drastic change anytime soon, I wonder if this question is moot.
I did not start writing this essay with an answer to my question in mind and at this point, I do not feel as if I have one. My skepticism toward mindfulness as the grand solution remains even greater than my lack of religious faith. Yet I also realize that I do have faith. Even among my relatively small social circle, I place much faith in my friends and peers that they will do right by me as well as others and I would hope that they think similarly of me. Whether this faith will possess the lasting power of religious faith or is merely an ephemeral product of naiveté, I do not know. But perhaps that’s exactly the point.
I think this was a good first draft in the most important sense: it
got your ideas out where you can read them. The next draft should
have reached a more confident understanding of the issues and your
approach to them, so you are ready to present an idea.
I don't see the relationship between "faith" and pursuit of justice.
Religious ideas can have powerful effects on peoples' willingness to
risk and sacrifice, but they're not the only such powerful ideas.
Without having believed in God for a nanosecond, or abandoned a view
of the universe as wholly material and knowable by the method we
call "science," I have managed to devote myself to learning and
teaching about, as well as doing, justice. I don't know why the
inquiry into "faith" is more than tangentially related to the
subject. An essay that speaks to me needn't share my view, but it
should explain the difference.
I don't understand the relationships between suicide and faith and
justice that you have constructed. Nor did I understand
"Confucianism" as a relevant category. Chinese suicide practices
were not part of your argument. Korea and Japan are shame cultures,
not guilt cultures, and I think the issue can be placed squarely
there, though I still don't understand why in the context of your
argument it matters. So perhaps, if it is important to the
argument, you could clarify it in the next draft. | | |
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