7 Heavenly Virtues: Justice (LONG)

[Peg Kerr]

No: HPFGUIDX 5892

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

For those of you who would like to review the earlier essays I have
written about the 7 Deadly Sins and the 7 Heavenly Virtues up until this
one, following are the message numbers:

7 Deadly Sins:
Pride: 1553
Envy: 1699
Gluttony: 1878
Lust: 2118
Anger: 2545
Covetousness: 2877
Sloth: 2998

7 Heavenly Virtues:
Faith: 3468
Hope: 3660
Charity: 4371
Fortitude: 4797

Related essays, possibly also of interest:

Loyalty: 788
Secrets: 957
Courtesy and Ambition: 1209

Comments, as always, are appreciated.
Peg