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Robinson & Brown | | I went to a firm event the evening after our first John Brown discussion and went away feeling somewhat depressed. All day, I had been troubled by the thought that I probably don't have the balls to do anything about 20 million people being enslaved, and at the firm event, I realized that I'm not going to grow balls by working for a firm. I brought this up at a table of law school students the next day. One friend got really angry and went on a rant about how we should be grateful for being at Columbia (Don't we know how many people would kill for this opportunity?), and how he's disgusted by people who complain about the work. Another said, "What else would we be doing instead?" and everyone else agreed. A third mentioned the money. The final comment was, “I’ll go work for a big firm and support you while you go save the world."
-- MichelleLuo - 04 Mar 2012
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> > | I really enjoyed Meagan’s post. I, myself, have been having difficulty making connections and drawing parallels between all the characters and themes we have encountered so far. On top of that, it’s also been difficult for me to get away from focusing on the “what would you” as opposed to the “would you” as Lissette discussed earlier, primarily because the “would you” feels like a definitive “no” and that reality has been troubling me for quite some time.
But I appreciate the exercise that Meagan invites us to participate in, that is, think about how these characters can illuminate for us, and help us understand, the ways in which we can or will engage with the legal system and its institutions.
While it’s important to think about if we would act in the face of injustice, and, eventually, ask ourselves what we would do, a lot of us are going to have to make some personal sacrifices before we get there. And, for some of us, that might involve operating in environments- for a short while, or maybe for the entirety of our careers- that are hostile towards us, that demean us, and that wear us down both emotionally and intellectually. And before you can really do anything for anyone else, or even know how to do anything for anyone else, you'll need to learn how to operate within these systems in a way that allows you to make optimal use of your talents and efficiently work towards your goals.
Wiley is a character that is easy to feel some distaste towards and, to a certain extent, compassion. He is a character that has chosen to work within a system that he does not entirely believe in, but- like many of us- he had his reasons for going in and he has his reasons for maintaining the course. But rather than feel either distaste or compassion, I’ve found myself feeling more intrigued by his own internal “splitting”- how he is simultaneously aware of it on a conscious level and continues to do it on a subconscious level- and the ways in which he has chosen to subsume any frustration or cynicism he may feel into snideness, and rationalize the rest of it away. When thinking about those who will work in legal institutions that are inherently hostile towards them, or people like them, in order to get that much vaunted, second-to-none “legal experience” on the path to pursuits they might find worthier, I wonder whether Wiley has chosen a valid or healthy survival mechanism, and what tools we should think about cultivating now in order to survive in and make the most of these environments down the road.
In slight contrast, Robinson is not a straightforward character to figure out, primarily because he always seems to be speaking in a sort of ironic double-speak. This too, is a survival mechanism- as Meagan points out, he has decided to play the game and work within and "grease the wheels" of a system he does not entirely believe in himself. But I think there’s clearly something driving him beyond principles or noblesse. He’s driven by his desire to get close to “the thang” and thinks_ “criminal law represents civilization’s pathology.”_ He seems almost unabashedly infatuated with the nature of crime- both those who determine what it is and who has committed it, and those who are branded by it. His pontifications about lawyers and prisoners switching places believing it would be “no more than a form of exacting justice” seems to reflect his belief in the very fragile, if not somewhat arbitrary, nature of the entire enterprise. In that regard, I feel like he chose the path he is on neither because he wanted to “do the right thing” nor because he wanted to make money, but because he wanted some way to encounter day-in-and-day-out what it means to be human, because there’s something simultaneously thrilling and grounding about that. I don’t see it as a bad reason to go into criminal law, just one we rarely explicitly consider.
Finally, Brown made me think about the larger question of how much I am willing to sacrifice and how much I am willing to be subsumed by certain values in order to live a “principled” life in the law- if such a thing can be said. Brown’s direct engagement with “the thang” is, for many of us, a terrifying proposition. Furthermore, he lived in a different time, so even if any of us decide to go down that road, our methods will surely differ. Professor Moglen continues to emphasize that we live in the fastest and most abundant part of the global “network” which confers a certain amount of power and privilege. A peer in class then countered that she was skeptical as to how “robust” this privilege really is because we live in a world where there are “systems of misinformation on top of systems of misinformation.” John Brown makes me feel simultaneously galvanized and helpless, so I am, clearly, sympathetic to both views. And I continue to feel the acute tension between them, as I mull over these characters, and the divergent paths they chose. |
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