Justice for all

Last night, I finished reading “Strength in What Remains” by Tracy Kidder. It’s the incredible, heartbreaking, and moving story of Deogratias, a young medical student in Burundi who became a refugee during the genocide. It tells the story of his harrowing and indescribably difficult escape from Burundi and his subsequent arrival in the U.S. In the U.S., he doesn’t know the language, he doesn’t have a place to live and becomes homeless, and joins the ranks of the poorest of the poor - despite the fact that he was an extremely intelligent scholarship student back home.

The book then chronicles the challenges he faces in adjusting to life in the U.S. and obtaining permanent residency. However, unlike many immigrants and refugees, Deo manages to get into Columbia University. He completes his undergraduate degree there and eventually becomes a medical student at Dartmouth. He also joins with Partners in Health and tirelessly pursues his passion of improving health for the poor in his home country, Burundi. He doesn’t give up, and now he is the leader of an organization that builds health clinics in Burundi called Village Health Works. I loved this story because it demonstrates the resilience of the human spirit in the face of incredible, seemingly insurmountable odds. Despite coming to the U.S. completely impoverished, he somehow manages to succeed and do incredible things. His desire to better the world drives him forward. At the same time, I can’t help but wonder how much of his journey is due to luck — the book mentions many instances in which he was, simply, lucky: a Hutu woman decided to help him escape across the Rwandan border, he met a nun in the U.S. who is extraordinarily compassionate and took it upon herself to help him, an older couple saw something in him and took him in, even helping him pay for his education. Whether it was luck or destiny or inner talent and willpower, he did it. And his story serves as an example for the rest of us: that nothing is impossible.

Perhaps my favorite quote in the entire book is this one:

A phrase he’d put together out of his dictionary kept coming to him. “A different planet.” New York had many planets. Better, he thought, to be in Burundi, if Burundi were at peace, than to live on the wrong, impoverished planet in New York. This place made you feel like you were simply not a human being. How could you be a human being like everyone else, if your circumstances were this different?

This quote stuck in my mind throughout the book because it makes me wonder: is this true? Is it true that being among the poorest of the poor in the U.S. is worse than being an “average” poor person in one of the poorest developing nations? Most people still come to the U.S. and think of this country as the “land of opportunity.” Yet, I wonder — is that golden land a myth? What is the reality for the poor in the U.S.? Although I have worked with a number of low-income individuals through my volunteer service with LIFT, I still feel like their circumstances are far better than what the poor face in countries like Burundi or India or China.

However, I think what Deo is alluding to in the quote above is not simply the material circumstances, but the psychological ones. After all, it seems clear that daily tasks such as carrying (unclean) water for miles to your home in scorching temperatures is a misery that few in the U.S. must experience. Yet, perhaps being poor in America means you are surrounded by incredible opulence. That you are an outlier - that you are cast out from society. In the very bottom of the heap. That you are granted no respect, that people treat you like a child, and that you are dehumanized. In that way, you feel so alone that you cease to feel human. It’s the inequality that perpetuates these feelings.

Ultimately, I don’t know. I’ve never been in such a situation in the U.S. (or abroad) so I don’t really have any authority to speak about this topic. But this is my personal understanding of the quote, and I think it’s important to ponder whether this quote rings true or not. If it is true, then it makes the case that much stronger for working on domestic poverty issues — which are often seen as less important than international issues.

A recent New York Times article describes the world of comfort - and perhaps even luxury - that war criminals are provided with at The Hague, Netherlands.

I don’t have a gym, a personal trainer, or a spiritual room in my tiny bedroom. On my (soon to be) non-profit salary, I certainly won’t be able to afford a visit to the Netherlands anytime in the near future. However, former warlords and human rights violators are getting all these amenities and more. Here’s a picture from the article of one of the “detention” cells in the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY). It looks to be about the same size as the room I currently live in, and it’s much better furnished.

The dorm and apartment-style living quarters provided to war criminals - such as Thomas Lubanga and Charles Taylor - who are being tried at the ICTY, the Special Court for Sierra Leone (SCSL) and the International Criminal Court (ICC) are downright luxurious, particularly compared to the poor living conditions suffered by the general population in the countries they come from (Sierra Leone and the DRC, for instance).

Perhaps worse, these individuals, who often own numerous properties and large sums of money hidden away in offshore accounts, are receiving free legal aid from the ICC which costs a minimum of €35,000 per month. And the most unsettling part of the story is that family members from Sierra Leone and the DRC receive travel subsidies to visit their detained relatives in the Hague. While I wholeheartedly believe that even warlords and human rights abusers should have the right to a fair trial and continue to enjoy their basic human rights, I too feel that these perks go too far.

Look at the living conditions in Sierra Leone, literally one of the poorest countries on the planet. Look at the quality of justice in many African countries, where individuals who are imprisoned for crimes like robbery, homosexuality, or even witchcraft are essentially sentenced to death simply because the conditions in prisons are so wretched. Where prisoners live in overcrowded rooms and own only one pair of clothing. Where sanitation is poor and diseases like HIV/AIDS and tuberculosis are prevalent. Where they receive perhaps one meal a day, a corn mush which completely lacks in any nutritional value. Where individuals can be held on remand - without even going to trial and being convicted - in similarly horrible conditions for years with no hope of ever seeing a lawyer.

I’m not saying that warlords don’t deserve fair trials, but that they shouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury when millions of people in the very countries they have terrorized are living in far more devastating poverty and suffering from horrible prison conditions.

It’s a shame that perpetrators of genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity can play foosball, watch television, browse the internet whenever they prefer, and even enjoy conjugal visits with their wives — but that an individual who steals a piece of bread in the DRC might just die alone in prison of tuberculosis.

Where is the justice in this?

I recently finished reading an amazing book, The Rich Get Richer and the Poor Get Prison: Ideology, Class, and Criminal Justice. The book itself has too many statistics and can be quite dry at times, but the strong message that resounds through its pages is truly powerful. It is a damning account of the utter failures of the U.S.’s criminal justice system to properly and fairly punish and prevent crime. The book essentially argues that the criminal justice system does not simply punish the dangerous, but ONLY the dangerous and poor. By punishing the poor disproportionately, the criminal justice system perpetuates poverty and fails to solve the underlying social structures that led to this class divide in the first place. Here’s an excellent quote:

“…the criminal justice system focuses moral condemnation on individuals and deflects it away from the social order that may have either violated the individual’s rights or dignity or literally pushed him or her to the brink of the crime. This not only serves to carry the message that our social institutions are not in need of fundamental questioning, it further suggests that the justice of our institutions is obvious, not to be doubted….Not only does the criminal justice system acquit the social order of any charge of injustice; it specifically cloaks the society’s own crime-producing tendencies….by blaming the individual for a crime, the society is acquitted of the charge of complicity in that crime.”

Even worse, by punishing primarily the dangerous and poor, we ignore the crimes of the rich. White collar criminals who steal millions of dollars are routinely let go after very short prison terms of a few months or a few years at most, while the poor are put away for years at a time for nonviolent drug offenses and property crimes. Look at this data:

• The average prison term for savings and loan offenders 1988-1992 was 36 months; the average sentence for burglary is 56 months, and 38 months for motor vehicle theft
• The average loss in an savings and loan case is $500,000. The average loss per property offense (in 1995) was $1,251!
• In 2000, the total cost of white collar crime was $404 BILLION. The total amount stolen in all property crimes reported in 2000? $16 billion. Yet, corporate executives rarely end up in jail.

By failing to punish all criminals equally, we are failing to protect OURSELVES from the crimes of the rich. Our system does not work for either the poor or for the rich. This is reason enough to want to change it.

Finally, by punishing the poor, we are perpetuating the myth of “dangerousness” of the poor. By convicting the poor at a greater rate, we are not only plunging them into further poverty, but we are also making pushing forth prejudices and stereotypes. We stereotype the typical criminal as black and poor, and so we begin thinking of those who fit this description as criminal. We start suspecting that the poor are also dangerous. By doing so, we start thinking of the poor, the destitute, the homeless as not worth our time, and as something less than human. This type of prejudice and racism is unacceptable in the U.S., or indeed, any society.

The criminal justice system has the effect of dehumanizing the poor and separating them from society, as if they were different from the rest of us. They are not different - we, the rich and privileged, commit many crimes, but are simply protected by the unjust system we live in. The poor are the ones who are disproportionately caught up in the system because they lack the protection we have: competent legal counsel, and the sympathy of the general public. But they are not more dangerous, they are not more culpable. We fail to recognize their common humanity when we take on the views that the criminal justice system propounds. After all:

“He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.” - Martin Luther King, Jr.

And so, due to our personal assumptions of the “dangerousness” of the poor, we ourselves are deeply complicit in the failure of the criminal justice system to act fairly. By ignoring the problem, we partake in it. The first step is for us to confront our own inner prejudices; only then will change become a possibility.

From Jurist:

Indonesia’s justice minister announced Tuesday the opening of a prison wing intended to confine individuals convicted of corruption….The wing was added to alleviate overcrowding in the Indonesian prison system and was also in response to criticism that wealthy prisoners are permitted to live in luxury. Anti-corruption reform has been one of the primary concerns of President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, and the opening of the prison wing highlights corruption concerns in the civilian and military branches of the government.

I think this is a great example of how the law can be used to fight corruption and white-collar crime. In a book I’ve been reading, called “The Rich Get Richer, the Poor Get Prison,” the author, Jeffrey Reiman, argues fervently that poor people are disproportionately locked up for crimes like nonviolent drug offenses, while the rich who engage in corruption and white collar crime - which often costs individuals, companies, and governments millions if not billions of dollars - often get off with far less severe sentences because they have access to high-quality counsel. Even if you compare a violent crime against one individual to a corporate crime such as corruption or embezzlement, the corporate crime often causes far more widespread economic damage.

White-collar criminals should be subject to the same laws and penalties because corruption is a serious crime that adversely affects individuals and economies. Yet, we as a society tend to consider violent crime by poor people to be far more threatening than economic crimes. White-collar crimes committed by the wealthy are often looked upon as far less severe. These conceptions have to change if the criminal justice system is to be more fair and equitable around the world.

That’s why I think Indonesia’s focus on treating white-collar and wealthy offenders the same as poorer individuals who commit crimes is commendable. Disparities in sentencing due to socioeconomic status are not only unjust and unfair, but also fail to deter crimes in an effective manner; such disparities need to be seriously addressed, and reforms like this are a good step towards justice sector reform.

Through my studies in the political science field, I’ve studied both Guantanamo Bay and the Gacaca process of post-conflict restorative justice in Rwanda in quite a bit of detail. Well, you might ask, what in the world do these two issues have in common? In essence, both alleged terrorists in Guantanamo and those on trial (mostly, or all, Hutus accused of participating in the genocide) in the Gacaca courts aren’t guaranteed a fair trial. In Guantanamo, it’s common knowledge that the accused are only tried by military commissions, generally have not had access to legal counsel or habeas corpus, and were often tortured in prison (although this is all changing).

Similarly, alleged perpetrators and genocidaires who appear before the grassroots and community-based Gacaca courts do not have access to legal representation, are tried by community members - often leading to unfair sentences imposed based on the balance of power in that particular community or region, and are sentenced by judges who mostly have no legal background.

But while issues like Guantanamo and Gacaca have garnered significant worldwide attention - primarily because of their relation to “popular” or “sexy” issues like national security and genocide - the truth is that millions of people around the world are suffering the same fate, but are mostly ignored by the world.

Most people who are imprisoned in much of the developing world - and frankly many in the United States as well - are not guaranteed legal counsel at the expense of the state; thus, they end up in jail for years without even seeing the inside of a court or hearing what they are being charged with. Arbitrary arrests are common. Prison conditions are horrible and unsanitary, with lack of basic hygiene, systematic overcrowding, and the spread of infectious diseases. In some countries like Zimbabwe, prisoners starve to death due to lack of sufficient food. And the tortures of prisoners in Guantanamo that so horrified the American public? The same brutal torture tactics are a commonality in most countries today, and are widespread as interrogation tactics.

In addition, while fair trials has become a big issue/controversy for alleged terrorists and genocidaires, most people around the world who are denied access to legal counsel and who are tortured in prison are suffering for far less severe crimes - such as robbery. Despite this, their plight receives little or no attention from the international community.

When are people going to realize this is a problem? That torture and lack of fair trials & legal representation are not limited to GITMO or Gacaca, but are problems for millions of people around the world?

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights states: “Everyone is entitled in full equality to a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, in the determination of his rights and obligations and of any criminal charge against him.” The right to a fair trial is also found in article 14(1) of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. When are we, the international community, going to begin making sure these laws are actually enforced in practice?

Not just alleged terrorists or genocidaires require fair trials.  Countless poor individuals who have been caught up in the system and are effectively “invisible people” also deserve fair trials, and it’s time we started doing something about this.