Harry Potter for Grown-Ups http://www.egroups.com/group/HPforgrownups Message 5892 From: Peg Kerr Date: Sat Nov 18, 2000 11:39pm Subject: 7 Heavenly Virtues: Justice (LONG) If the Harry Potter series concerns the conflict of good versus evil, then the point where good and evil clash is the domain of the fifth virtue, Justice. Related concepts for purposes of this discussion include fairness, impartiality, equity, rightness and dispassion. In my essay on the second virtue, Hope, I discussed the imagery Rowling uses to depict Harry as a prisoner while he lives with the Dursleys. Of course, if the world is a properly run place, where good triumphs and evil is vanquished, the prisoner IS a prisoner because of the workings of justice. But in a world where good and evil have become confused, that is, if the prisoner has been wrongfully imprisoned, then hope whispers that when good is restored to its rightful place, justice will eventually set the prisoner free. When the first book begins, Harry, as a prisoner, has no understanding, no expectation of justice. The Dursleys present themselves as model citizens to the world, but any civility and graciousness they present is merely a facade (see, for example, the elaborate charade planned for the benefit of the builder and his wife Vernon has invited to dinner in Chapter One of CoS). The Dursleys' actual cruel and capricious nature is revealed in their treatment of Harry. The philosopher Thomas Hobbes (a pessimist about human nature if there ever was one, who believed that most people at heart were really like the Dursleys) offers a famous summation of what life is like in its natural state, i.e., the life that Harry lives while subject to the Dursleys' tender mercies: "no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear . . . solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. . . . " The world of sneers, buffets and torments that Harry has grown up with is the only world he knows. Being treated with fairness feels unreal, unfamiliar, even disorienting. One example is the memorable morning when Henry was unexpectedly allowed to go to the zoo on Dudley's birthday, the day he accidentally sics a boa constrictor on his cousin. The fact that he could go to the zoo at all means "he could hardly believe his luck." Being allowed to have a lemon ice and then being allowed to finish Dudley's rejected knickerbocker glory is a strange novelty. When it all ends badly, "Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last." But after some time at Hogwarts, Harry is starting to develop a sense of what real justice looks like and feels like. And as he does, he is becoming less willing to assume the role of the unjustly punished prisoner. Note, for example, the scene at the end of Chapter Two in PoA. In his rage at the unfairness of Aunt Marge's sneers at the memory of his parents, he unconsciously uses his magic to "blow her up." His defense? Simple justice. "She deserved it. She deserved what she got." This sense that some things that are fair and some that are not--a sense of justice, in other words--is a natural stage in children, according to theologian C.S. Lewis. (Aside: in fact, Lewis starts his explanation of the way a person builds an ethical framework from this point, a child's sense of justice--I cannot find my copy of Mere Christianity at the moment and so cannot quote the exact passage). It is particularly interesting to note the other scene in dealing with justice in Chapter Two of PoA, the one which begins the chapter, thus "bookending" the scene with Aunt Marge. Together, these two scenes will kick off the theme of justice, which will be broadly dealt with in books three and four. Harry learns for the first time of another person, someone who has been held prisoner (like himself), who has escaped--Siruis Black. If I had known when I first read PoA what I have since learned through the process of writing these essays, I would have instantly realized that Sirius Black had to be innocent, simply from the fact that Dursleys, our examples throughout the books of moral antimatter, were convinced that he was guilty: "No need to tell us he's no good," snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at the prisoner. "Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!" . . . [True to type, all the Dursleys concentrate primarily on appearances above all else.] "When will they learn," said Uncle Vernon, pounding on the table with his large purple fist, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?" Of course, as Harry will learn, when good and evil collide, justice often isn't as easy as Uncle Vernon makes it out to be. Here are some questions which might be raised while considering the role of justice in the series, along with illustrative examples. 1) Has a wrong actually been committed? 2) Are we absolutely sure we're accusing the correct person? 3) Was this wrong committed with intentional malice, or was the action coerced by something or someone else--or was it simply a mistake? 4) If we are sure we have the correct person, and that they committed this act intentionally, how can justice best be served? Let's look at these each in turn: 1) Has a wrong actually been committed? This is not always clear. One of the best examples of how this is an ongoing question is the plot line with the house elves. Hermione is convinced that the house elves are living and working in an unjust arrangement, but she is having a great deal of difficulty finding anyone who agrees with her, even among the house elves. I must admit to some degree of discomfort with this plot line. When Hagrid earnestly explains to Hermione that she's doing an unkindness to the house elves by trying to agitate about their working conditions, because it's in their nature to look after humans (Chapter Sixteen), it made me squirm. The whole setup reminded me so strongly of some old videos I'd seen from the history of the American civil rights movement, where smug white matrons looked into the camera and explained that none of the blacks in town never wanted to sit in the front of the bus or sit at the lunch counter until "them Yankees" came into town and got everything stirred up. Hermione doesn't seem to have converted anyone to her point of view, aside, perhaps, from Dobby. But Dobby and Winky seem to be an embarrassment to the other house elves, and most humans pay no attention to Hermione's campaign at all. Indeed, Rowling seems to be setting Hermione up for at least some ridicule with this story line, e.g., the fact that Hermione chose "S.P.E.W." for the acronym for her society makes the whole idea seem absurd. And yet, Rowling isn't entirely ridiculing the idea of house elf liberation: after all, it is Dumbledore who is Dobby's new employer, who tells Dobby that he can say and think whatever he likes. My guess is that this storyline is still very nascent, and so we'll have to see what Rowling does with it in the future. She once worked for Amnesty International, and has spoken in interviews about how that has affected her opinions, particularly about bigotry, so I doubt that house elves will continue to be happily slaving for the Malfoy family at the end of book 7. Other than that, I cannot say for certain where this plot thread will lead. But it is clear at least that Rowling is interested in writing about situations where an unjust situation exists, but the culture has not quite yet recognized that injustice. By trying to push that cultural awareness to move at a faster pace, Hermione may be hurting her own cause--the quiet behind-the-scenes methods of Dumbledore might be more helpful in the long run, Rowling seems to suggest. Another instance of where it is unclear whether a wrong has been committed is the running mystery of how Rita Skeeter is getting her scoops. Hermione finally discovers that she has been "bugging them," literally, and fits the punishment to the crime: she forces Rita to remain a bug until Rita agrees not to write any more poison pen stories for a year. We have plenty of other instances where it is certainly clear that a wrong has DEFINITELY been committed: the murder of James and Lily by Voldemort, the torture of the Longbottoms, the murder of Cedric, etc. The trouble then lies in trying to determine beyond a reasonable doubt who committed these crimes (question 2), were they actually responsible for the crime (question 3) and if so, what should be done with them? (question 4) In both PoA and GoF, Rowling gives us villains who use deception to hide their acts, and in doing so allow blame for their crimes to fall upon an innocent person. In PoA, Peter Pettigrew frames Sirius for the murder of James and Lily. In GoF, Barty Crouch, Jr. allows Winky to accept the blame for conjuring the Dark Mark, uses the Imperio curse to make it look as though Victor Krum has used the Cruciatus curse on Cedric Diggory, and, of course, assumes the identity of Alistar Moody as part of his scheme to deliver Harry to Voldemort. In an attempt to organize this, let's look at several trials: - the trial of Karkaroff; which Harry sees in the Pensieve, - second, the trial of Ludo Bagman (in the Pensieve) - third, the trial of the torturers of the Longbottoms (including Barty Crouch, Jr.) (also in the Pensieve); and - fourth, the "trial" of Peter Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack. It is a sign of Rowling's skill that none of the trials that Harry sees in the Pensieve feel "right" although on the surface all seem to have reached the right result. Bagman is shown mercy, Karkaroff, an admitted deatheater, agrees to help the wizarding community, providing helpful information, and the torturers of the Longbottoms are given a harsh sentence. First: the trial of Ludo Bagman. It is clear from the comments of the onlookers, that Ludo Bagman's status as a Quidditch star has severely hampered the ability of those sitting in judgment of him at this trial to judge him fairly. Ideal justice is often depicted as a blindfolded woman, holding the scales of justice. In Ludo Bagman's case, however, the blindfold is off, and the judges are blinded by Bagman's celebrity. And because Justice is not dispassionately evenhanded, Bagman is allowed to get away with minimizing the crime. "I've been a bit of an idiot," he says, and the onlookers (except for Barty Crouch, Sr. and Alistar Moody) react indulgently. "How was I to know?" Bagman says plaintively, and because he is a sports hero, the wizarding community is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Bagman deserves mercy, perhaps not. The implication is strong, however, that REASON he is being given mercy here is not a fair one, and therefore, justice has not been truly administered here. There is no indulgence, on the other hand, for Karkaroff. He is condemned, but saves himself by naming others to the investigators. Rowling carefully notes, with references to his facial expression and body language, along with running commentary about his treacherousness supplied by Alistar Moody, that Karkaroff's motivation is not the one he professes. One of the functions of justice is to return rehabilitated wrongdoers to society once they have fully owned up to their crimes, repented of them, made their amends, and endured the punishment that society has meted out. But while Karkaroff has owned up to his crimes, we get the sense that he has done so only because he was caught red-handed. He is not truly repenting and turn his efforts to defeating Voldemort--he is trying to save his own skin. The sense is that his liberty is not being given to him because he has earned it through his innocence. He is not, in fact, innocent. Instead, he has purchased it by trading information about the enemy for it. Purchased justice is suspect. And if Karkaroff has not truly repented, then, Harry and the reader is left to wonder, isn't he fully capable of treachery now--say, treachery toward Harry? Again, the decision reached by Karkaroff's judges does not quite satisfy. The third trial seen in the Pensieve is that of the the group which tortured the Longbottoms, including the Lestranges and Barty Crouch, Jr. Certainly we are convinced that the crime is terrible. The reader is inclined to sympathy toward Neville Longbottom; Dumbledore tells us that his parents were beloved, and anyone who attacks Neville's parents should be caught and punished. Somebody should pay. And yet . . . and yet . . . Again, this trial feels wrong. First of all, Barty Crouch, Sr. sits in judgment of his own son. For a parent to be in that position in the trial of his own child is a clear conflict of interest. Sirius tells Harry (and the reader) at another point in the book that it wasn't much of a trial, that Barty Crouch, Sr. simply used it as an opportunity to distance himself from his son, so that his own reputation would not be equally besmirched. This assessment is certainly borne out by Harry's observation. Barty Crouch, Sr. is not dispassionate and impartial in this scene--instead, he is vindictive, even cruel. Barty Crouch, Jr. seems to be merely a frightened innocent--but we don't know for sure, and the implication is that no one knows, because everyone is so angry at the crime that the true question of Barty Crouch, Jr.'s guilt or innocence is not being carefully examined. The question is being swept away in the tidal wave of revulsion at the crime. The fourth trial is the trial of Peter Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack. As the whole story is explained to Harry, Ron and Hermione, the reader is struck again by the impression that "our side," meaning the wizarding community fighting Voldemort, in this case too has done a terrible job of administering justice. Sirius, we learn, is actually innocent, and has done thirteen years of time at Azkaban for a crime that he didn't actually commit. And yet, ironically, while the cornered Peter Pettigrew denies his involvement in the murder of James and Lily, Sirius on the other hand willingly accepts blame for his part in their death: "You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand held quite steady." Black stared up at him with those sunken eyes. "I don't deny it," he said very quietly, "But if you know the whole story." "The whole story?" Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know." "You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't. . ." That is what we need to know, in order for justice to be served. WE NEED TO KNOW THE WHOLE STORY. It's the only way to know what the correct action should be when we must judge the wrongdoers. I suggest that Dumbledore is not satisfied with the results of the trials seen in the Pensieve, and he adds more thoughts to the bowl, partly to empty his mind, as he tells Harry--but partly because he is still trying to learn and understand everything that he will need to judge dispassionately and correctly. That is why he administers the Veritaserum to Barty Crouch, Jr.--to learn the rest of the story. On the other hand, the wizarding world at large, represented at the end of GoF by Cornelius Fudge, dashes our hopes for equitable justice yet again. Just as Harry almost refused to listen to Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack (and just as Snape in fact did refuse to listen to Sirius), Cornelius Fudge allows the dementors to administer the Kiss to Barty Crouch, Jr., cutting off any chance that he could tell his story, and he refuses to listen to Dumbledore's warning that Voldemort has returned. This abject failure on Fudge's part is extremely worrisome, and it offers a golden opportunity to Voldemort that I don't think the Dark Lord will be slow to seize. The Dementors themselves are silent. They do not allow stories to be told, and they have no use for rehabilitation. Dumbledore is therefore right--they are not appropriate guardians of justice, at least, not the kind of justice which can properly arbite good and evil in the struggle against Voldemort. We have hope, however, in the figure of Harry Potter. Harry has the thirst to find out the true story, the assistance of Ron and Hermione (among others) in uncovering it, the courage to face it, and the patience to hear it all. And, when given the opportunity, as he was in PoA, we know that he can temper justice with both dispassion and mercy, as he did when he weighed the fate of Peter Pettigrew. Dumbledore, that brooding master of the Pensieve, offers us hope: "The time may come when you will be very glad that you saved Pettigrew's life." Will justice be served? We shall simply have to wait to know the rest of the story to see. For further reading about the 7 Heavenly Virtues, see: http://www.deadlysins.com/virtue.htm For further reading about the philosophy of Thomas Hobbes, see: http://www.philosophypages.com/hy/3x.htm For a summary of Lawrence Kohlberg's work on moral development read: http://www.nd.edu/~rbarger/kohlberg.html Comments, as always, are appreciated. Peg