“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
Much to my roommates’ surprise
(“I’ve read this for at least six classes!”) I have never read Dr. King’s Letter From Birmingham Jail, but I have
heard the above quote. As someone who grew up for three months out of the year
in the toil of Northern Ireland’s “Troubles,” I’ve heard my dad use this quote
in his defense of Irish Catholics – though, to be fair, it applies to both
sides. Dr. King’s famous letter and Kolvenbach’s discourse on the Jesuit commitment
to service and justice both hit home and made me consider the nature of justice
and my own obligation to uphold it. Before reading Dr. King’s letter, I read
the statement which had originally prompted it. The pastors who opposed Dr.
King’s tactics, though they were the impetus for one of the most famous
retaliatory responses of all time, are not necessarily bad people. However,
because they are unaffected (or at least less affected, as they were white) by
segregation, they cannot see the necessity of Dr. King’s and his follower’s
tactics. Despite the fact that King championed civil disobedience and passive
resistance – both non-violent approaches to an often violent problem – they
fear his actions are too inflammatory and feel instead that issues related to
civil rights should be kept within the confines of the courtroom.
Fr.
Kolvenbach, likewise, reflects on the problem of a commitment to service and
distance from the actual issue;“Dogmatism or ideaology sometimes led us to
treat each other more as adversaries than as companions.” When one is so far
removed from a situation, as the white clergymen and the Jesuit clergy were,
the issue becomes more academic and less personal. It becomes about rhetoric
rather than the well-being of the oppressed people in question, leading even
those who are supposed to be united in the name of justice to bicker amongst
themselves. Both King and Kolvenbach seem to solve the problem by taking
another step back rather than attempting to involve themselves further. They consider
all opions, address all approaches, and finally do rely to a point on their own
personal experiences to bring their readers back to what is important: not how
justice is achieved, but that one way or another, it is achieved.
As
I mentioned, I grew up with the turmoil of the Troubles in Northern Ireland as
an important part of my life. My dad was heavily involved in amnesty programs
and Irish political movements throughout the 80s and 90s, thus making it an
important issue for me. I realized, however, that when I left Ireland’s
incongruously luscious fields and morbid TV clips of bombs exploding, I largely
forgot about the issue altogether. Now and then I would see a clip on American
TV regarding violence in the North or overhear a distressed phone call between
my dad and a friend or family member “back home.” Yet, while I was devastated
when such events transpired minutes away from me in Ireland, I was merely
bemused thousands of miles away safe in my Rhode Island home. Some time in my
teens, I realized this discrepancy , though by that point it was largely too
late – the Troubles had ended though tension still existed in the North. Though
it was too late to make any real impact, I did realize on thing; the ability to
argue over tactics used in the face of injustice is a privilege held by those
least affected by it. Just as the clergy in both cases dug themselves into
arguments over theoretical solutions, I argued with my family over the correct
approaches to peace in Northern Ireland. While such discussions are pertinent
to these kind of problems, I know now that what is most important is a personal
and empathetic connection to injustice. When this connection is lost, as it was
in both King’s and Kolvenbach’s cases, the real drive behind achieving a just
society is lost.
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