By: Christine DiCrocco

This is the second time I’ve seen “The Paper Chase.”  The first time was during first semester of my 1L year.  Upon someone’s insistence, I rented the movie and watched, horrified, as Hart gets ripped to shreds by that evil, evil man, Kingsfield, whose infamous line, “Mister Hart, here is a dime. Take it, call your mother, and tell her there is serious doubt about you ever becoming a lawyer”, made me simultaneously cower with fear in front of the tube and seethe with rage at the professor’s audacity.  After the film was over, I was completely terrified to return to school the next day.  I think I may have even cried.  If that was what was in store for me, I had some serious doubts about my choice to go to law school.

When the opportunity presented itself to watch the movie for a second time, I thought it would be interesting to see how my perception of law school has changed now that I am almost halfway done.  Viewing the film for the second time conjured up a very different response.  Instead of fear and bewilderment, I felt anger and frustration.  It struck a chord with me and brought me right back to how I felt as a 1L.  I remember thinking during my first year that there had to be a better way to teach law school.  Especially as a 1L, it can be very frightening to know that you will be called on at any moment and be expected to know the answer to the question and to be able to explain your reasoning with all of the appropriate legal jargon.  I agree that the goal behind this is an admirable one: to get students accustomed to thinking on their toes, but, I found that this knowledge (of being “on call” all the time) made me more nervous and less able to focus on what was being said in the classroom because I was so freaked out that I would be called next.  I was hardly at ease my first year.

People say certain realities about law school are “rights of passage.”  I’ve never been too keen on this rationale.  Just because this is the way something has traditionally been done does not mean it is the only way or even the best way.  Seeing the value placed on precedent, stare decisis, and predictable outcomes, it seems that law schools and the legal profession don’t really have an interest in changing the way things have always been done.  Many students do very well and are not bothered by it, I suppose.  However, “The Paper Chase” is one of those movies for me that invokes a lot of disturbing feelings and a general feeling of discontent.  Suffices to say, I will not be watching it for a third time.

By: Kate Moore

From a moral justice perspective, we are aware that the truth is what matters.   Acknowledgment of the story, truth seeking and story telling are the tenets of a morally just legal system.  The Accused, a film starring Jodie Foster clearly exemplifies this theme.  In The Accused, Sara Tobias (Jodie Foster) is gang-raped and learns that her perpetrators enter into a plea bargain with the prosecutor.  The men plead guilty to reckless endangerment instead of rape, and Sara is enraged.  Justice, more specifically, moral justice has not been served.  Sara had wanted to go into court and tell her story.  She had wanted to look her perpetrators in the eye and run the risk of losing at trial, rather than having the defendants plead guilty to a lesser crime; something that they actually did not do.  The legal system, however, does not provide a real opportunity for victims to participate.  The victims are mere witnesses to the crime, while the state, presumably has all the power.  Therefore, while the prosecutor’s decision was legally correct, it was morally deficient.

Although the emphasis on truth for the victim is difficult to find in our conventional paradigm, truth has emerged in other legal venues, most notably in South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which was established to help deal with the effects of apartheid.  The TRC was particularly moral, because it wanted apartheid victims and its perpetrators to tell their stories uninterrupted, not leaving any grim detail aside.  Moreover, the commission hearings were televised, so that the public could be told about the atrocities that occurred.  While the TRC’s do not impose punishment, which may be troublesome to our notion of morality, I think the acknowledgment of the victim in the TRC, is unparalleled.  For many victims of horrific crimes, there is a need to tell someone, anyone and not be judged.  There is a need for healing, justice, and the hope that this will not happen again.  Perhaps, if more legal systems incorporated the fundamental aspects of the TRC, such as allowing the victim to speak freely and uninterrupted, a dose of morality could be found within the courtroom.

By: Leonard Winters

In line with our class discussion concerning the opinion in Osterlind v. Hill, I came across a case on the New York Times website (“http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/20/us/20myspace.html”) that appears to further illustrate a disconnect between the legal system and conceptions of moral justice.

Today, the prosecution and defense presented their respective opening arguments in the trial of Lori Drew.  Ms. Drew, a middle-aged woman, is accused of creating a fictitious MySpace account of a teenage boy and using that fake account to “taunt a 13-year-old girl,” ultimately driving that girl to commit suicide.

In 2006, 13 year-old Megan Meier began some sort of online relationship through MySpace with “Josh Evans,” the account that Drew created.  After several weeks of chatting, Megan began receiving nasty messages from “Josh Evans” over MySpace, included one where “Josh” told Megan that “‘the world would be a better place’ without her.”  As a result of the cruel messages, Megan responded, “‘You’re the kind of boy a girl would kill herself over,’” before hanging herself in her home.

It appears Lori Drew believed that Megan Meier had been tormenting her own 13 year-old daughter at school and in a twisted way decided to teach Megan a lesson about humiliation and embarrassment through setting up the fictitious account and using the persona of a teenage boy to emotionally torment Megan, with the help of Ms. Drew’s own 13 year-old daughter and an 18 year-old assistant.

I think many people after reading what occurred intuitively assume that the article is a description of some sort of homicide trial; however, Ms. Drew has instead been charged with “conspiracy and three counts of accessing a computer without authorization via interstate commerce to obtain information to inflict emotional distress.”

Does prosecuting Lori Drew under “a federal statute that is generally used to prosecute fraud that occurs across state lines,” run the risk of trivializing the suffering of Megan Meier and her ultimate death?  Forgetting about legal elements for a moment, hasn’t Ms. Drew, according to the allegations, killed Megan Meier to the extent that we think of homicide as the killing of one human being by another?

In fact, in his opening statement, the federal prosecutor stated that Ms. Drew had “‘hatched a plan in order to prey on the psyche of a vulnerable 13-year-old,’” and that her goal was “‘to embarrass [Megan], to humiliate [Megan], to make fun of [Megan] and to hurt [Megan].’”  Furthermore, the prosecutor noted that “Ms. Drew knew of Megan’s history of depression and attention-deficit disorder . . . because Ms. Drew had given Megan her medicine when she vacationed with the Drew Family.”

After such an opening statement, I wonder how many people in the courtroom still believed that they were simply witnessing a “fraud” trial?  Similarly, irrespective of whether Ms. Drew is found guilty of committing fraud across state lines, do any of those same individuals believe that any result in this trial can amount to an adequate form of “justice”?

Judge George H. Wu’s jury instructions further highlight what some people may describe as the morally absurd nature of this trial.  Judge Wu told the jurors “that Megan’s suicide would be ‘the subject of some testimony’ that could be relevant to their conclusions but that Ms. Drew was not charged with having anything to do with Megan’s death.”

Thus, If this trial represents all of the charges that Lori Drew ends up facing in connection with the death of Megan Meier, does the legal system run the risk of marginalizing Megan’s death to such an extent that at least in the eyes of the law it never occurred?

As the defense attorney deftly reminded the jury that “‘this is a computer abuse and fraud case, not a homicide case,’” I think this trial presents all of us with an opportunity to ask whether moral justice is being sacrificed for the sake of legal precision and if so, whether it is the “right” thing to do in this situation?

By: Alex Terrone

I recently re-watched the series finale of Seinfeld after reading Professor Rosenbaum’s description of it in his book, The Myth of Moral Justice.  In the episode, Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer are arrested under Massachusetts’ newly passed Good Samaritan Law. The law imposes a duty on bystanders to help strangers in perilous situations. Normally, one would not be required to act, even when in the presence of others in need of assistance. The four characters witness an overweight man being robbed at gunpoint. Instead of coming to his aid, they videotape it and relentlessly ridicule the man’s weight. The Good Samaritan Law essentially converts their apathy into guilt and inaction into a chargeable act almost comparable to aiding and abetting the robbery.

In his book, Professor Rosenbaum explains the absence of a duty to rescue in American law. Morally, the idea that someone can witness a criminal act and not be required to physically prevent it or try to get help is despicable. Legally, however, it has been rationalized that if one has not acted, he has committed no crime and cannot prosecuted. The defense attorney representing the four characters in Seinfeld argues this concept:

“You know what these four people were? They were innocent bystanders. Now, you just think about that term. Innocent. Bystanders. Because that’s exactly what they were. We know they were bystanders, nobody’s disputing that. So how can a bystander be guilty? No such thing. Have you ever heard of a guilty bystander? No, because you cannot be a bystander and be guilty. Bystanders are by definition, innocent. That is the nature of bystanding. But no, they want to change nature here. They want to create a whole new animal – the guilty bystander.”

This argument seems underdeveloped and cyclical, but it does get the point across. Jerry, Elaine, George, Kramer did not hold a gun to a man’s head. They did not steal his money. They simply witnessed a crime. Why should a state, therefore, impose an active duty on people who find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time to act on another’s behalf? Why should someone be obligated to risk his own safety, especially for a complete stranger? I say, why not?

The government already imposes this type of duty on its citizens. Obscured by habit, our obligation to pay taxes is essentially a duty to help a stranger. These taxes fundamentally aid anonymous recipients by financing their social security, Medicare and Medicaid package, public education and so forth. We all begrudgingly comply with these laws. So why shouldn’t states also have the ability to impose another truly beneficial obligation on its citizens? We are already forced to help one another financially. Why shouldn’t we as a collective society be required to physically help our peers and neighbors out of a dangerous situation? Are Good Samaritan laws less legally utilized because they are deemed as too morally intrusive?

I think that using morality as a legal crutch is lazy and irrelevant. People’s views of what is morally correct greatly differ. Personally, I only view acts as “moral” when they originate from benevolence. In this vein of thinking, if Good Samaritan laws were universally enacted and we were dictated to perform certain functions, these actions would thus be stripped of their morality. We would then be able to solely focus on the legal consequences of inaction in the presence of a crime. In the Seinfeld situation, the robbery would have occurred whether or not the characters had witnessed it. Because of the Good Samaritan Law, the State was permitted to deem the characters’ decision to not act as a legally punishable action, regardless of their individual moral perceptions.

By: Pat Fitzpatrick

“The saddest thing in life is wasted talent.”
-Lorenzo Anello (Robert De Niro), A Bronx Tale

On November 17, 2008 as part of the weekly class meeting of the Feerick Center for Social Justice Clinic, we were lucky enough to have an extraordinary guest speaker, Judge Michael Corriero.  Judge Corriero is a well known juvenile justice expert and served as a New York State Supreme Court Justice for 28 years.  From his vantage point as a presiding judge, Judge Corriero gained a unique perspective on how legislative changes can both worsen and improve juvenile justice systems and spoke to us about the moral and ethical struggles he faced as a leader in New York’s juvenile system.

A little history:

In 1978, the headline-grabbing violent crimes of 15 year old Willie Bosket, combined with a heated New York Gubernatorial race—where Hugh Carey was jockeying to show that he was tough on crime—led to the change in New York state law that juveniles (as young as 13) would be tried in adult court and face the same penalties as adult offenders.  This replaced the family court system (a five year maximum sentence for offenders 16 and under) by imposing automatic transfer to the adult court and eliminating the threshold age.  This system also entailed mandatory sentences and life-long felony convictions.  Judges did have the power to grant youthful offender discretion, nonetheless, many believed that the system was flawed.  Critics believed the mandatory element provided excessively harsh results and that it was a major contributing factor to the high rate of recidivism of offenders thus causing vicious cycles in poor communities.  Recognizing these failings, in 1992, Judge Corriero spearheaded the establishment (and presided over) the Manhattan Criminal Court’s Youth Part, a court within the adult system that adjudicates cases involving 13, 14, and 15 year old children charged as adults.

To illustrate his experiences to the class, Judge Corriero used some effective examples from some of his favorite films and television programs.  One example was from the film “A Bronx Tale.”  Judge Corriero described the scene where Calogero or “C” (played by Lilo Brancato who ironically is expecting to go on trial this week for the murder of a police officer) is walking down the street and a car full of his friends pulls up and tells him to get in.  When C gets in the car he finds a box of Molotov cocktails at his feet and learns that his friend in the front seat has a gun.  He realizes that they are now on their way to the adjacent African American neighborhood to cause havoc.  This puts C in a very difficult predicament.  He does not want to be a part of the attack because he thinks it is wrong, and even more so because he has started a relationship with a girl from that neighborhood.  Nevertheless, once he gets in the car he cannot ask his friends to pull over and let him out.  These are his peers, his friends, his life.

The Judge posed the question to the class “Who are you when you are fourteen?” His answer, “You are what your friends think you are.”  If C says anything or asks to get out, he would lose all respect from his friends and would be an outcast in his neighborhood.  Luckily for C, Sonny (a neighborhood mobster who takes a paternal interest in C played by Chazz Palminteri) cuts them off and pulls C from the car.  His friends forge on without him to catastrophic results.  They succeed in bombing their target, but before they can make their getaway, a victim of their attack throws one of their own Molotov cocktails back at their car and they perish in the attack.

Judge Corriero said that he saw many of the juvenile offenders in the Youth Part as versions of C and that the proceedings were an opportunity to pull a young person from the car before they are permanently on a destructive path; before they serve a mandatory sentence; before they are permanently attached with the stigma that comes with the label of convicted felon.

He said that Prosecution did not see many C’s and that the defense attorneys thought that every kid was a C, and it was his job to decide who the kids were that should be “pulled from the car;” kids who made a bad decision based on peer pressure, who would have never committed the crime if they were on their own.  For 16 years Judge Corriero made these decisions on a daily basis and he never stopped struggling with the moral implications his rulings had on these young people, their families and the communities they lived in.

Although he did not say so specifically, I am guessing that the Judge identified with the character of C.  Later we learned from our professor that the Judge grew up in a rough and tumble neighborhood in Little Italy and lived across the street from the Manhattan Detention Center—the legendary “Tombs.”  He was quoted in a recent Daily News Article saying “I was fortunate that the repercussions from any careless decisions I would have made – and I have not admitted to making any – I have been able to survive and overcome.”

Judge Corriero left us with this: “There is nothing wrong with being tough on crime, but we need to be smart about it especially when it comes to young people.”  In early 2008, Judge Corriero left the bench and in June 2008 became Executive Director of Big Brothers Big Sisters of New York.

By: Joe Gabriele

One year ago, the Atlantic Monthly published an article on the trade-offs between liberty and safety in the context of the American ethos and terrorism.  Two months ago, the author, writer David Foster Wallace, committed suicide.  I found the article thought provoking, and wanted to share.

_____

The Future of the American Idea
November 2007
Atlantic Monthly
by David Foster Wallace

Just Asking

Are some things still worth dying for? Is the American idea(1) one such thing? Are you up for a thought experiment? What if we chose to regard the 2,973 innocents killed in the atrocities of 9/11 not as victims but as democratic martyrs, “sacrifices on the altar of freedom”?(2) In other words, what if we decided that a certain baseline vulnerability to terrorism is part of the price of the American idea? And, thus, that ours is a generation of Americans called to make great sacrifices in order to preserve our democratic way of life—sacrifices not just of our soldiers and money but of our personal safety and comfort?

In still other words, what if we chose to accept the fact that every few years, despite all reasonable precautions, some hundreds or thousands of us may die in the sort of ghastly terrorist attack that a democratic republic cannot 100-percent protect itself from without subverting the very principles that make it worth protecting?

Is this thought experiment monstrous? Would it be monstrous to refer to the 40,000-plus domestic highway deaths we accept each year because the mobility and autonomy of the car are evidently worth that high price? Is monstrousness why no serious public figure now will speak of the delusory trade-off of liberty for safety that Ben Franklin warned about more than 200 years ago? What exactly has changed between Franklin’s time and ours? Why now can we not have a serious national conversation about sacrifice, the inevitability of sacrifice—either of (a) some portion of safety or (b) some portion of the rights and protections that make the American idea so incalculably precious?

In the absence of such a conversation, can we trust our elected leaders to value and protect the American idea as they act to secure the homeland? What are the effects on the American idea of Guantánamo, Abu Ghraib, Patriot Acts I and II, warrantless surveillance, Executive Order 13233, corporate contractors performing military functions, the Military Commissions Act, NSPD 51, etc., etc.? Assume for a moment that some of these measures really have helped make our persons and property safer—are they worth it? Where and when was the public debate on whether they’re worth it? Was there no such debate because we’re not capable of having or demanding one? Why not? Have we actually become so selfish and scared that we don’t even want to consider whether some things trump safety? What kind of future does that augur?

FOOTNOTES:
1. Given the strict Gramm-Rudmanewque space limit here, let’s just please all agree that we generally know what this term connotes—an open society, consent of the governed, enumerated powers, Federalist 10, pluralism, due process, transparency … the whole democratic roil.
2. (This phrase is Lincoln’s, more or less)
David Foster Wallace is the author of several books, including Infinite Jest (1996), A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again (1997), and Consider the Lobster (2005).

_____

I think the article brings up two separate questions.  1) Are Americans willing to accept a lesser degree of safety to live the way of life they’re used to?  2) The net benefit of some of our “safety” measures (i.e.- Guantanamo, illegal wiretaps, Patriot Act).

This article is so interesting because it confronts issues that most Americans prefer not to think about, and does so in the context of very current and controversial topics.  I wanted to share the article because though the public debate on these issues has not yet truly occurred, the article is still a great tool for spurring great discourse.  The questions and opinions that arise after reading it are strong and worth discussing.  As to my opinion, I’ll keep it very simple:

The fact is that no amount of precautions, reasonable or otherwise, can GUARANTEE that nothing bad is going to happen.  Even if we were to subvert the very principles that make our country worth protecting, that’s not an absolute bar to preventing attacks.  I think that’s what a lot of people are looking for these days- an absolute bar- and this plays into a lot of the fear-mongering out there.  Since subverting American ideals and personal freedoms is harmful to our country/citizens and not capable of preventing all terrorist attacks, we should be EXTREMELY careful what we give up in the name of safety.

By: Bryan Stephens

Considering and contemplating E L. Doctorow’s, The Book of Daniel, undoubtedly causes the reader to reflect upon the trial and execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. The novel’s narrator, Daniel, describes his investigation and understanding of his own parents’ conviction and execution. As the plot develops, the reader becomes increasingly familiar with how his parents’ public condemnation has personally affected both Daniel and his sister, who dies from a nervous disorder after attempting suicide.

That society is so keen to impute a sort of constructive culpability for crimes of others onto innocent bystanders is both appalling and shocking – though, not altogether unexpected. It does, consequently, beg the question as to why society feels the need for this form of seemingly retributive justice In The Book of Daniel, the children unnecessarily suffer various levels of scrutiny that will later shape and impact their futures. Robert and Michael Meeropol (née Rosenberg) were also cast off and labeled Communist demons following the indictment, conviction and execution of their parents. Moreover, the contention that Ethel Rosenberg was a Russian spy was never substantiated. With due regard to Ethel, Michael and Robert, each suffered individually at the hand of society, our ultimate judge.

Collective thinking and action is a force that can be impossible to withstand. An aggrieved society, for various reasons, seems to be uninterested and even incapable of collectively accepting or even considering past circumstances and story when it begins its quest to make the wrongs of the world right. McCarthy era politics actually welcomed the opportunity for society to condemn an entire family for the wrongs of one man (both Rosenberg children now agree that their father was most likely a Russian spy). This sort of reaction has become an almost militaristic campaign to raze contrary public sentiment and action, with the force of the many (which is accepted as the prevailing good), wholly and totally silencing the few who stand in apparent opposition to normative values. Women, children, adoptive parents and friends, who have any kind of associated ties, no matter how irrational, are, thus, deemed anti-social and fall out of reach from conventional justice.

Evolving culturally accepted practices that shape our normative behaviors undoubtedly influence our view of legal ethics and the place of truly unbiased juris prudence. It is therefore appropriate to require that legal practitioners and policymakers temper the irrationality of collective influence, which leads to universally accepted condemnation. The co-mingling of law and culture has a certain relevance that is often unappreciated, misunderstood or sadly ignored. Should law reflect culture and principled modern social thought – and, vice-versa – it then begs the question: did we get it right?

By: Matt Telford

so, tbs went on its annual spree of airing the wizard of oz last weekend, and as i watched it through the lenses of a “law & literature” attorney (which i’ve newly acquired during my time as a student of thane rosenbaum’s) i realized that the wicked witch of the west is truly the ultimate idiosyncratic defendant.  she’s put on trial and executed without even the slightest attempt to understand the idiosyncrasies that render her disabled or the backstory that might mitigate her apparent guilt.

insofar as she’s disabled, i mean, come on – she’s green.  much like tom robinson in to kill a mockingbird, her peers hate her because of her different skin color.  she also has powers beyond those of your average woman, so the reasonable person cannot understand why “to satisfy an itch, [she'd go] flying on her broomstick thumbing for a hitch.”  even glinda the good witch, who’s different but understandable, flies around in a bubble.  why would the wicked witch fly on a broom?!  and with such a potent vendetta against a seemingly innocent little girl!  it’s just not reasonable!!

regarding backstory, we’re not told too much about it in either the movie or the book on which it’s based, but gregory maguire attempted to give us some insight in that area through his novel wicked, which has since been adapted into a broadway musical.  we learn that the wicked witch, who isn’t even dignified with a name in the original book or movie, is named elphaba, and has lived a hard life.  her parents hated her from birth because she was green and freakish.  she was marginalized throughout her whole life because of her color and powers, and when she fought for good causes, society misunderstood her enthusiasm for wickedness.

just like the protagonist in camus’s the stranger, elphaba experiences the death of a close family member when a house falls on her sister, nessa rose (a.k.a. “the wicked witch of the east”).  to add insult to injury, the little girl who murdered her sister steals the victim’s ruby slippers.  elphaba justifiably flips out.  her sister just died and the family jewels were stolen.  she just wanted her sister’s shoes back!  they had sentimental (and monetary) value.  from maguire we learn that they were a gift from the girls’ father, and they were endowed with magical powers that gave her crippled sister the power to walk.  much like shylock in the merchant of venice, she has a legal claim to property that is rightfully hers as her sister’s next of kin.  when elphaba confronts dorothy as a plaintiff in a wrongful conversion case, the trial is flipped upside down just like it was with shylock, and elphaba somehow becomes the defendant!  further, like melville’s protagonist, billy budd, she is tried, sentenced and executed by an incompetent judge (billy’s was so because of insanity; elphaba’s was because of age) behind closed doors.  and, again like billy budd, her legacy (until maguire) was told through stories that depicted her as a bitter, mean, wicked witch that deserved the end she got.

as e.l. doctorow points out in the book of daniel, the children of executed idiosyncratic defendants are rarely left unaffected, and we also see this in the case of the wicked witch of the west; the story of her orphaned son, liir, is picked up in maguire’s sequel, son of a witch.  i won’t discuss that topic here, but it is remarkable how the life, trial, execution, and legacy of elphaba, the wicked witch of the west, so perfectly parallels the many lessons that the “law & literature” attorney is trained to notice in her defendants.

By Michelle Emrani

I’ve had this song, The Boy With The Arab Strap by Belle & Sebastian in my head for weeks. (Song lyrics have a certain way of sticking in my head in ways in which, I fear, more pertinent information never will.)  The song describes the feelings of a person who has just been freed from a form of literal or spiritual prison and the renewed wonder of a world for one that has been shut away for so long.  Wednesday’s class discussion of silence as a form of spiritual violence, gave me a new perspective on a song that is so familiar, a perspective that added meaning to a song I already felt to be profoundly meaningful and beautiful.

My interpretation of one lyric in particular, “Everyone suffers, in silence, a burden,” completely changed as a result of our class discussion of silence as a form of spiritual abuse.  Prior to our class discussion, I had interpreted the line as referring to the harms we have suffered, to the baggage that we carry, as a result of our life experiences.  While we may not acknowledge it to others, or even to ourselves, something in our lives, past or present, may be burdening our thoughts, causing us spiritual pain, or holding us back.

In many ways, this filing away of burdens and spiritual harms may act as a survival mechanism; allowing us to carry on by steeling ourselves, attempting to regain our strength in the face of so much pain and disappointment.  Silence is a form of this struggle to move on, to break free through denial, and suppression.  In certain ways, being silent about these spiritual harms allows us to protect ourselves, especially in a society that often blames victims, or denies spiritual offenses.  While it may not be the most cathartic means of coping, silence does offer its own form of respite.  In silence, we are free to suffer in our own way, without burdening our loved ones or defending our feelings to others.  But as we saw in “The Pawnbroker,” silence inflicts its own burden, one that may cause suffering not only to ourselves, but to those around us.

Perhaps it was this burden, which Stuart Murdoch, the songwriter, was referring to when he wrote “Everyone suffers, in silence, a burden.”  Our class discussion of silence and withdrawal as a spiritual harm, as a form of passive aggressive violence, opened my eyes to this different interpretation.  While the nature of song lyrics does not ordinarily lend itself to grammatical scrutiny, I feel that the grammar in this lyric is significant.  Silence is the subject of the line, the actor that causes everyone to suffer a burden.  Silence and isolation are the harms that we inflict on others by ignoring them, rendering them insignificant, denying their right to even the slightest acknowledgement.  As Thane said, women are much better at this form of violence, a form that the legal system will not recognize or punish.  While I understand Thane’s suggestion that this form of violence can be used actively and maliciously to hurt others, my personal experience with silence has been different.

I have used silence and withdrawal as defensive measures, protection from spiritual and physical violence inflicted by others.  While I recognized the harm I was inflicting by being silent, by looking through someone as though they were a ghost, I felt that this was my only form of defense, the only way I could survive what had happened.  I did not care that I was harming the other person, because in my passive aggressive way, I felt that I was justified in doing so.  What I failed to realize was the harm this silence was inflicting on own spirit; how my silence and denial were catalysts driving me toward self-destruction.  Only once I was able to acknowledge the horrific truth, to speak about it with people I trust, was I able to start the long journey toward recovery, or at least acceptance.

If silence can be held as a form of spiritual harm, it is one that acts as a double edged sword, with consequences that may often be much more harmful to the person thrusting it than to the person receiving the blow.  While I fully identify with the instinct to remain silent in the face of great tragedy, I believe that inflicting the burden of silence on oneself can cause even greater harm.  Perhaps, that is why Murdoch writes, in another line of the song, “Color my life with the chaos of trouble, ’cause anything’s better than posh isolation.”

By: Stacey Noell

Isn’t it interesting the way politics is generally devoid of morals?
Isn’t it bizarre that if a politician speaks out in support of a man
he admires, if that man happens to be a member of the “other party,”
that politician is politically ostracized and stripped of his
chairmanship?

I have always had a profound interest in politics, but have insisted
that I would never want to BE a politician because it seems they
always lose their morals. Those that are charged with representing
Americans seem to be thought of as the least moral people in the
country. And right we are to have that impression—each month we learn
of another politician embroiled in a sex scandal, taking bribes from
lobbyists or others who want favors and even partaking in the very
crimes they so vigorously speak out against. How can we expect the
legal system to work toward achieving moral outcomes when those who
sit at the top of our political system and write our laws cannot even
be bothered to stand for what they speak about? How can we expect our
leaders to be honest and moral, when they are pilloried by their own
party for doing just that? We are told that this devolution of
politics is a recent phenomenon and that the Founders were not like
this, but this is false. The United States has always had dishonesty
and negotiating permeating through the upper echelons and government.
It is not hard to see how our legal system merely wants to smooth
things over when those that have written our laws spend all of their
years attempting to do just that.