If we\u2019re going to build a more nonviolent world, it will mean more of us speaking up, listening closely and finding innovative ways to cooperate. This will be true for revamping structures and institutions \u2014 and it will also apply to tackling violence. In a more nonviolent world we will confront violence less by imposing punitive arithmetic \u2014 long jail sentences and paralyzing fines \u2014 than by taking deliberate steps to repair harm, meet needs, foster accountability and gamble on the idea that transformation is possible. The emerging discipline of restorative justice, simply put, will have found its way into the heart of our lives, our communities and our societies.<\/p>\n
We\u2019re so trained in the art and science of retribution that it\u2019s sometimes hard to get a fix on what restorative justice is. I got a clue several years ago when my colleague Cynthia Stateman shared the following story. Cynthia was very close to her Uncle John. He was a doctor in their hometown, and when she was growing up she would often make the rounds with him visiting the sick. He was the town\u2019s first African-American physician, and had built a clinic that served sharecroppers and mill workers. One night, years later, Cynthia got a call from a cousin telling her that her uncle had been killed by a young white man intent on robbing his clinic. The assailant had shoved her 75-year-old uncle against a wall. He fell, gasped for breath \u2014 and then suddenly died. The would-be robber phoned 911 but then ran for it, only to be quickly captured. Cynthia immediately flew home to be with her family.<\/p>\n
Cynthia has since written about the experience that unfolded once she got there in her article \u201cSoul Force\u201d (published in Engage: Exploring Nonviolent Living<\/i>). In the midst of their grief and anger, her family had been unexpectedly asked by the public defender for help. The district attorney was going to seek the death penalty \u2014 would they intervene to urge the D.A. to file charges more commensurate with the crime? As grievous as this violence was, the lawyer said, it was a stretch to call what happened a capital offense. John\u2019s son threw the public defender out of his house. But the rest of the family wouldn\u2019t let it go. Right there they plunged into a struggle with justice \u2014 what was just in this case? What was the right thing to do?<\/p>\n
In the end, most of them decided that they needed more information \u2014 and they could only get this from the offender. They were not, though, given easy access to him. \u201cWe bullied, badgered, threatened and made a whole lot of noise, before the attorneys would agree to set up a visit,\u201d Cynthia writes. Finally, they got their meeting. Sitting before them was a 19-year-old named David, who, by his own admission, had been on a crime spree. On top of that, he owed someone money and was having trouble coming up with it. He was being threatened, so he had decided to rob the clinic. Ironically, he and his family had been the recipient of her uncle\u2019s generosity \u2014 they had gotten free inoculations and other health care over the years at the center.<\/p>\n
He seemed remorseful. He also seemed resigned to whatever happened. Like his father and other family members, he would be spending years in jail.<\/p>\n
This seemed like the end of the story. But then something shifted. On the drive back home, while ruminating on this kid (\u201cJeez, what a loser.\u201d \u201cFace it, David doesn\u2019t have a snowball\u2019s chance in hell of turning his life around.\u201d \u201cHe\u2019s illiterate.\u201d \u201cPathetic.\u201d), one of Cynthia\u2019s cousins started composing a list of book titles. By the time they got to the house, they had concocted a proposal: David had to learn to read and then plow through a long list of books, including The Autobiography of Malcolm X<\/i>. He had to get his GED and, as a condition of parole, learn a trade and keep a job. For good measure, he had to do \u201cfive or ten years\u201d of community service.<\/p>\n
When they presented their ideas to the D.A., he balked. But the family stood its ground, and the charges were reduced \u2014 and their recommended conditions were submitted to the court. David would spend years in prison, but he would not be heading to death row.<\/p>\n
The last part of the story I found unbelievable when Cynthia first told it to me \u2014 and I find it unbelievable still, after all these years. If I didn\u2019t know Cynthia I would be skeptical. But she\u2019s a good friend so I have to believe it. The essence is that David petitioned the court to let him attend the funeral. The request was granted and the family, incredibly, invited him to join the procession and to sit with them.<\/p>\n
After many people in the packed church offered testimonials honoring Cynthia\u2019s uncle, David stood up. He said to the assembly, \u201c\u2018A good man is dead because of what I did. I\u2019m sorry.\u2019 He gestured toward my cousins. \u2018They spared my life. I didn\u2019t deserve that. I\u2019m going to be in prison for a very long time, but I\u2019m not being sent there to die. What I want to ask all of you here is: Is there any way you can forgive me?\u2019\u201d The pastor asked him to kneel, and slowly the congregation came forward to prayerfully lay hands of healing on him. One by one, Cynthia\u2019s cousins did the same, including the one who had pitched the public defender out of his house.<\/p>\n
Though Cynthia had studied nonviolence, she and her family were not schooled in the theories of restorative justice. They illuminated its key elements, however, as they struggled with a painful tragedy in a way that intuitively steered them away from retribution to restoration. Rather than leaving the matter entirely in the hands of the criminal justice system, they demanded an active role \u2014 sitting with, listening to and engaging with the perpetrator; imagining ways he might be able to turn his life around while still holding him accountable; advocating for a more transformative sentence; and astoundingly welcoming him into one of the most painfully-charged environments possible \u2014 the funeral of the victim \u2014 which, paradoxically, proved to be a space of healing and reconciliation.<\/p>\n
Restorative justice is not new \u2014 and it does not need a highly-developed theory to be experienced. But stories like Cynthia\u2019s have fueled the dramatic emergence of restorative justice as a key to positive peace and as a powerful practice for transformation and healing. Over the past few decades its principles and techniques have increasingly been worked out, refined and applied.<\/p>\n
Restorative justice recognizes that crime hurts everyone:<\/a> victims, offenders and the community. It seeks to make things right by bringing all parties together: to hear the voice and needs of the victim; to hear from the offender \u2014 why did they take the action they did and what will make this choice less likely in the future? It increases the likelihood of reintegrating the offender into the community<\/a> rather than being stigmatized, shamed and more likely to reoffend. Fundamentally, it provides an alternative to two traditional responses to crime: punitive and authoritarian on the one hand or permissive and paternalistic on the other.<\/p>\n Using peace circles (like those used by Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation<\/a> in Chicago), victim-offender reconciliation programs<\/a>, consultation circles<\/a>, or other mediation processes, restorative justice is gaining ground. At the same time, its power, potential and processes are being increasingly clarified by practitioners<\/a> and academics, including Ron Claasen<\/a> and others at the Center for Peacemaking and Conflict Studies<\/a> at Fresno Pacific University in California and Ted Wachtel at the International Institute for Restorative Practices. (Wachtel views restorative justice as a subset of a larger social science he names restorative practices<\/i> that \u201cstudies how to build social capital and achieve social discipline through participatory learning and decision-making.\u201d)<\/p>\n Restorative justice curricula are increasingly featured in peace, justice and conflict studies programs in colleges and universities across the United States. But it is also making its appearance in high schools. An example is the\u00a0Peace and Justice Academy<\/a>\u00a0in Pasadena, Calif., a high school devoted to\u00a0preparing students to \u201cstand for justice, wage peace and impact the world.\u201d Elaine Enns<\/a>, a long-time mediator, writer and activist, teaches the school\u2019s cornerstone class in restorative justice. The dynamics of restorative justice seep into the school everywhere \u2014 from the entire school intensively creating and signing a Community Covenant at the beginning of the year that sets guidelines for how the teachers and students will treat each other, to the regular journeys that the school takes to engage emotionally and physically with social injustice. (Here<\/a> is a compelling account of the school\u2019s experience of Manzanar, the World War II Japanese-American concentration camp.)<\/p>\n Restorative justice lies at the heart of nonviolent transformation. We are offered opportunities in our every day lives to reach for this option (like Cynthia Stateman\u2019s family); to study it (like academics on the one hand or the children in Pasadena on the other); or to bring its principles and dynamics to the innumerable struggles for social change that this world so decisively needs.<\/p>\n _________________________<\/p>\n Ken Butigan is director of Pace e Bene, a nonprofit organization fostering nonviolent change through education, community and action. He also teaches peace studies at DePaul University and Loyola University in Chicago.<\/i><\/p>\n