Background: I work as a case manager for the Defenders Services Program at the Orleans Public Defender’s office. In this role, clients are referred to us through their attorneys to be set up with various services that will hopefully prevent them from recidivating and ending up back in jail.
A few weeks ago, amidst updating resource databases and visiting some folks in jail, I had the privilege of traveling to Gonzales, LA to attend a meeting of the Louisiana State Public Defenders Board. Sitting among attorneys from all over the state, I listened to them harp on the details of distributing a budget one third the size it should be and develop a strategy to fight for more money even though the public defender’s office is “not the most popular kid on the block.” The discussion was fascinating (since I was watching a state body reveal its weaknesses and vulnerabilities) and vividly displayed the hardship associated with preserving every person’s Sixth Amendment right to public defense.
Being a defender is a hard job that leaves little room for gratitude and inspiration. When there seem to be so many people in need of support who did not make “bad decisions,” why spend resources on those who screwed up? This is a question that these people must confront everyday. Beyond discovering their own individual answers to it, they must then sell those answers to state bodies that financially support their offices (and have very little money to distribute throughout a state that desperately needs a great deal of services). Though this work is protected by American law, the cause of public defense seems to conflict with our inclination to provide support to those in obvious crises. And that can, in a subtle manner, impact the quality of defense offered by this occupation and this much larger institution.
Yet, the meeting was capped off with a more hopeful message, one in which public defense can be used as a tool for positive change rather than just mitigating problems. My two amazing supervisors offered an inspiring presentation about the work my specific division has done in its first year of existence (since it is the pilot program for the whole state). As Johnetta and Sophia revealed mind-boggling statistics, such as our client’s record low recidivism rate, 9% (in contrast to over 50% all over the state), and explained the variety of services we connect our clients to (substance abuse recovery, mental health support, employment, education opportunities, temporary shelter, etc), the board members were pleasantly surprised by and quite receptive to the success. I was overcome with an immense feeling of pride and motivation, for I realized that we are knee-deep in a novel pursuit to establish a criminal justice system that actually puts faith in people rather than dooming them to lifetimes of anger, isolation and limited opportunity. That statement may seem extreme, but in the past five weeks, this work seems to be calling for nothing short of a revolution.
Diversion programs work. Offering people relevant alternatives to longer sentences that are simply going to harden and break so many, offering a crack addict who recognizes that he or she has hit rock bottom and wants to live a different life a free rehabilitation plan, setting up a kid who has had few positive role models and little educational opportunity with GED classes and job training, is going to help create constructive members of society, not just more thugs rotting away in prison. Rather than ignore problems by stashing people who suffer from so many social injustices out of sight, this approach offers relevant solutions to countless problems that make me question the sincerity of American meritocracy.
Though these options and services may not be included in common Sixth Amendment rights, to me, this rehabilitative alternative to a criminal justice system that currently focuses solely on punishment, can send the message that our nation is motivated not by anger but by a responsibility for others and an accountability for its own shortcomings. But amidst all this large-scale excitement and hope, amidst the opportunity to be an ally to clients rather than an obstacle, I know that there are limitations attached to my role within this larger project. As a white, upper-middle class, college-educated Northerner, I have a very set idea of what success is and what the best decision might be. Yet it is not my places to impose that upon someone with a vastly different background and value system; that would be playing into a very dangerous racial, class-based power dynamic that limits agency and suggests a moral relativism with which I am extremely uncomfortable. To me, getting a GED and a job seems like an obvious superior alternative to homelessness and a crack addiction. But for someone who may only get as far as a minimum wage position with no benefits after pursuing the former and thus cannot support his or her dependents anyway, there is something very alluring about the freedom the latter seems to offer. I am not here to place moral judgments upon other people’s lives, I simply propose options. Only the clients can decide if they are ready for and want those alternatives.
In my job, responsibility to others does not mean “helping” people ‘better” their lives using a measuring stick established by my history. It means making options available to people who seek them and have few places to look. Yet as I try to accept my restricted position in this battle, it is so difficult not to be inspired by the successes of our work and want that for others. This balance of excitement for this novel strategy of systemic social change and understanding that it is an individual’s choice to fully immerse oneself in options we present is going to be tricky. I hope I am up to the task, but I worry how much I can truly contribute when these complex power dynamics will always be hovering over my head. I also wonder if diversion as an institution will be accompanied by this sensitivity, because ultimately, it is an individual’s prerogative to decide what is best for him or her. I guess we will just have to wait and see…..
Monday, October 26, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
PRX » Piece » Mind the Gap: Why Good Schools are Failing Black Students (54:00 and 59:00)
Anyone interested in education should check out this powerful audio story about closing the achievement gap.
To hear the whole story, you'll need to sign up for a free account with Public Radio Exchange. Do it! You'll find tons more great stories and programs.
Mallory, AVODAH NOLA
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Olmert's Visit to NOLA Sparks Dissent
Last week, Ehud Olmert visited New Orleans and spoke at Tulane University. None of us in AVODAH ended up attending, in part because you had to have a student ID from some New Orleans University to get in. But there was also very little conversation about Olmert's visit and what it meant for us as Jews and as activists living in New Orleans.
In fact, a few of my housemates have noted that it's striking that, although we've talked at length about ourselves, our Jewish identities, our financial situations, social justice, the history of New Orleans, racism, and practically every other topic imaginable--we never once discussed the Israeli/Palestinian Conflict.
Then, today, I ran across this article, an account of Olmert's visit and what it meant to one particular student, Emily Ratner, and her community of pro-Palestinian activists. She relates how she, along with more than 70 pro-Palestinian activists, demonstrated against Olmert's speech and took the opportunity of his visit to rally others for their cause and to start taking action. You can read Emily's account of the demonstration yourself by going to The Trumpet Blog, but I wanted to highlight a few things.
At the end of her account, Ms. Ratner expounds upon the "positive responses" of the demonstration, which "resulted in a broadening of our local Palestine solidarity network into a community we had dismissed for too long. Our new friends and allies at Tulane know first-hand how much they are up against in an institution [Tulane University] that is between one-quarter and one-third Jewish and regularly equates Zionism with Judaism, but they are aching to take up the challenge."
There is so much here that pains me. I come to New Orleans from an institution--Vassar College--in which the political climate surrounding the Israeli/Palestinian Conflict issue was overwhelmingly one of peace and solidarity. I spent my senior year working closely with a good friend and a Muslim student who was the co-president of the newly-formed Vassar Islamic Society to create such an atmosphere. We worked together to open up dialogue about the Conflict in a civil and constructive manner. We planned events during which members of the Vassar Jewish Union and Vassar Islamic Society could talk with one another, meet each other, and get to know each other as individuals. We organized open-services during which Muslims and non-Muslims alike were encouraged to attend Muslim prayer services, and Jews and non-Jews alike were encouraged to attend Jewish Friday evening services. We brought a Muslim imam and a Jewish scholar to campus to speak about the force of religion in the Conflict, and how it can be used to promote peace rather than violence.
Why is it that when people are confronted with a belief or opinion that challenges us, we so often immediately jump into attack mode? Is it because we feel so threatened that we can only think to respond with threat? Rather than the pro-Palestinian camp and the pro-Israeli camp each promoting one-sided propaganda that they think is "correct," can't we all work together in an attempt to find a solution or a compromise? Can't we at least just talk to one another--and listen to one another?
Parts of Ms. Ratner's account do resonate with me. "New Orleans is a city where so many feel linked to the Palestinian struggle through shared themes like the experience of diaspora, the right of return, and near-daily racist violence and oppression by police and military authorities," she writes. This is valid. But then she continues, stating that "there is no space in our city where Israeli war criminals will not be challenged."
Perhaps if we stopped attacking one another and calling each other names that are choked with negative meaning, we could work together toward some compromise or solution. How much more inspiring would it have been if the response to Olmert's speech had been for Tulane students and others in the New Orleans community--Jews and Muslims and others--to gather together in the name of peace and coexistence?
What bothers me even more is that The Trumpet, the blog on which Ms. Ratner's article appeared, claims to be "the online component to the premiere non-profit news magazine of New Orleans." As a publication that advocates for social justice, I think that The Trumpet has an obligation to promote peace, not hatred.
On the same note, as AVODAHniks who are advocates for social justice ourselves, it merits having a discussion on the Conflict. What are people's thoughts about Ms. Ratner's account? What are people's thoughts on the Conflict at large? What does it mean to be Jews working for social justice in the United States? Consider even the many responses to the Times-Picayune article on AVODAH New Orleans in which people brought up the Israeli/Palestinian Conflict ("Go ask the Palestinians what they think of the Jew's version of social justice"), even when the article had absolutely nothing to do with the Conflict--or did it? What responsibility in this arena, if any, do we have as Jews? Does this responsibility mean defending Israel no matter what, as some Jews think? Or is it something else?
These are all questions I've been struggling with, and I would love to open up the conversation on this issue with you all.
In fact, a few of my housemates have noted that it's striking that, although we've talked at length about ourselves, our Jewish identities, our financial situations, social justice, the history of New Orleans, racism, and practically every other topic imaginable--we never once discussed the Israeli/Palestinian Conflict.
Then, today, I ran across this article, an account of Olmert's visit and what it meant to one particular student, Emily Ratner, and her community of pro-Palestinian activists. She relates how she, along with more than 70 pro-Palestinian activists, demonstrated against Olmert's speech and took the opportunity of his visit to rally others for their cause and to start taking action. You can read Emily's account of the demonstration yourself by going to The Trumpet Blog, but I wanted to highlight a few things.
At the end of her account, Ms. Ratner expounds upon the "positive responses" of the demonstration, which "resulted in a broadening of our local Palestine solidarity network into a community we had dismissed for too long. Our new friends and allies at Tulane know first-hand how much they are up against in an institution [Tulane University] that is between one-quarter and one-third Jewish and regularly equates Zionism with Judaism, but they are aching to take up the challenge."
There is so much here that pains me. I come to New Orleans from an institution--Vassar College--in which the political climate surrounding the Israeli/Palestinian Conflict issue was overwhelmingly one of peace and solidarity. I spent my senior year working closely with a good friend and a Muslim student who was the co-president of the newly-formed Vassar Islamic Society to create such an atmosphere. We worked together to open up dialogue about the Conflict in a civil and constructive manner. We planned events during which members of the Vassar Jewish Union and Vassar Islamic Society could talk with one another, meet each other, and get to know each other as individuals. We organized open-services during which Muslims and non-Muslims alike were encouraged to attend Muslim prayer services, and Jews and non-Jews alike were encouraged to attend Jewish Friday evening services. We brought a Muslim imam and a Jewish scholar to campus to speak about the force of religion in the Conflict, and how it can be used to promote peace rather than violence.
Why is it that when people are confronted with a belief or opinion that challenges us, we so often immediately jump into attack mode? Is it because we feel so threatened that we can only think to respond with threat? Rather than the pro-Palestinian camp and the pro-Israeli camp each promoting one-sided propaganda that they think is "correct," can't we all work together in an attempt to find a solution or a compromise? Can't we at least just talk to one another--and listen to one another?
Parts of Ms. Ratner's account do resonate with me. "New Orleans is a city where so many feel linked to the Palestinian struggle through shared themes like the experience of diaspora, the right of return, and near-daily racist violence and oppression by police and military authorities," she writes. This is valid. But then she continues, stating that "there is no space in our city where Israeli war criminals will not be challenged."
Perhaps if we stopped attacking one another and calling each other names that are choked with negative meaning, we could work together toward some compromise or solution. How much more inspiring would it have been if the response to Olmert's speech had been for Tulane students and others in the New Orleans community--Jews and Muslims and others--to gather together in the name of peace and coexistence?
What bothers me even more is that The Trumpet, the blog on which Ms. Ratner's article appeared, claims to be "the online component to the premiere non-profit news magazine of New Orleans." As a publication that advocates for social justice, I think that The Trumpet has an obligation to promote peace, not hatred.
On the same note, as AVODAHniks who are advocates for social justice ourselves, it merits having a discussion on the Conflict. What are people's thoughts about Ms. Ratner's account? What are people's thoughts on the Conflict at large? What does it mean to be Jews working for social justice in the United States? Consider even the many responses to the Times-Picayune article on AVODAH New Orleans in which people brought up the Israeli/Palestinian Conflict ("Go ask the Palestinians what they think of the Jew's version of social justice"), even when the article had absolutely nothing to do with the Conflict--or did it? What responsibility in this arena, if any, do we have as Jews? Does this responsibility mean defending Israel no matter what, as some Jews think? Or is it something else?
These are all questions I've been struggling with, and I would love to open up the conversation on this issue with you all.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Urban Kibbutzim
Check out this article on NPR about urban kibbutzim. The similarities between the kibbutz movement and AVODAH communal living are striking, I think.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Welcome to AVODAH's Virtual National Retreat!
The purpose of this blog is to promote communication between AVODAHniks in Chicago, New York, DC, and New Orleans. It is meant to serve as a means of discourse among Corps Members in all four cities, and to foster a sense of community among AVODAHniks nation-wide. It is a place where we can express our frustrations, share our successes, and reflect on all aspects of our AVODAH experience.
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