Happy Thanksgiving Day!

Professor Frank Pommershierm in his article, A Snapshot from the Field, (1996)(21 Vermont L. Rev. 7.) includes the following quote in a reference to the development of “tribal jurisprudence.” “As noted by the Irish Poet Seamus Heaney, recent recipient of the Noble Prize in Literature, ‘In any movement towards liberation, it will be necessary to deny the normative authority of the dominant language or literary tradition.” He further states, “Although literature is not law in periods of liberation, law too will confront dominant norms.”
Does the dominant language of the “Western” researcher gain normative authority? To what end? To redefine experience? To justify projects which may actually further US imperialism in the name of charitable good? In the name of international development?
During my last year of law school, many of my “radical” friends went to work for large corporate law firms. They didn’t want to, but the financial obligations were crushing. Many of them said that it would be okay. They could change the system from within. Or-- it was just for a few years. Twenty five years later, they are still in the firms. The firms are still the same.
Can we do one research project accepting the normative authority of the dominant language? Or will we find it just easier next time to rely on our now familiar method? And the next time…and the next? Does it really matter? Is this a period of liberation? For whom?

Art is No Luxury

In this morning’s New York Times, I am reminded of Paulette’s recent post about art and science. Of course, I think this question has everything to do with research and research methods. In our current project we are trying to respect the steps of a more scientific approach towards research but at the same time, recognize the limitations of that method. The article is by Jori Finkel about artist Enriques Martinez Celaya. Mr. Celaya is a painter and sculptor who is exhibiting at his Venice studio. The article caught my eye being titled ‘Layers of Devotion (and the Scars to Prove It) wondering if that title might also describe my quest for an understanding of justice. Mr. Martinez Celaya was trained as a physicist. While a graduate student at the University of California, Berkeley, he found himself spending more time painting. He described this fascination. “I found that the kinds of questions I wanted to tackle were not the questions of physics...Art is usually described as a luxury, but I felt the opposite. I just couldn’t go to the lab anymore and ignore everything going on emotionally with me.”
At EMU, we are, after all, earning a Master of Arts degree. I hope that with this project, we can explore the art of research as we seek answers to the difficult question of justice.

The Future of Science is Art

As we continue to define our methods for this project - I found an article by Jonah Lehrer in the December 2007 Seed magazine helpful in its exploration of the limitations of reductionism. Lehrer asserts that only by heeding the wisdom of the arts can science gain new insights and perspectives that are the seeds of scientific process...

Here are a few excerpts and some summary:

When we think about the scientific process, a specific vocabulary comes to mind: objectivity, experiments, facts. In the passive tense of the scientific paper, we imagine a perfect reflection of the real world.

But the trajectory of science has proven to be a little more complicated. The more we know about reality - about its quantum mechanics and neural origins - the more palpable its paradoxes become. As Vladimir Nabokov, the novelist and lepidopterist, once put it, "The greater one's science, the deeper the sense of mystery."

The fundamental point is that modern science has made little progress toward any unified understanding of everything. Our unknowns have not dramatically receded. In many instances, the opposite has happened, so that our most fundamental sciences are bracketed by utter mystery. It's not that we don't have all the answers. It's that we don't even know the questions.



Sometimes the whole is best understood in terms of the whole. William James, as usual, realized this first. The eight chapters that begin his epic 1890 textbook, The Principle of Psychology, describe the mind in the conventional third-person terms of the experimental psychologist. Everything changes, however, in with chapter nine. James starts this section, "The Stream of Thought," with a warning: "We now begin our study of the mind from within."

With that single sentence, as radical in sentiment as the modernist novel, James tried to shift the subject of psychology. He disavowed any scientific method that tried to dissect the mind into a set of elemental units, be it sensations or synapses. Such a reductionist view is the opposite of science, James argued, since it ignores our actual reality.



As the neuroscientist Semir Zeki notes, "Artists (painters) are in some sense neurologists, studying the brain with techniques that are unique to them." Monet's haystacks appeal to us, in part, because he had a practical understanding of color perception. The drip paintings of Jackson Pollock resonate precisely because they escite some peculiar circuit of cells in the visual cortex. These painters reverse-engineered the brain, discovering the laws of seeing in order to captivate the eye.

Of course the standard response of science is that such art is too incoherent and imprecise for the scientific process. But isn't such incoherence an essential aspect of the human mind? Isn't our inner experience full of gaps and non-sequiturs and inexplicable feelings? In this sense, the messiness of the novel and the abstraction of the painting is actually a mirror. As the poetry critic Randell Jarrell put it, "It is the contradictions in works of art which make them able to represent us - as logical and methodical generalizations cannot - our world and ourselves, which are so full of contradictions."



(The power of the poet is that she) compresses meaning into meter, vague feelings are translated into visceral images. It is not coincidence that many of the greatest physicists of the 20th century - eminent figures like Einstein, Feynman and Bohr - were known for their distinctly romantic method of thinking.



No scientific model of the mind will be wholly complete unless it includes what cannot be reduced. Until science sees the brain from a more holistic perspective - and such a perspective might require the artistic imagination - our scientific theories will be detached from the way we see ourselves.

Berryville District Court

The Winchester Star ran a story on the portraits in the courthouse on Tuesday, complete with photos.

http://www.winchesterstar.com/showarticle_new.php?sID=6&foldername=20081118&file=More%20portraits%20_article.html

Analyze This!

Since the beginning of this course, I’ve articulated concerns I have about power relationships between the researchers and researched. One of the ways that power is exercised is through redefining the experience through “analysis” and placement within categories, as deemed by the researcher. In seeking to research these concerns, I’ve been reading Mary Margaret Fonow and Judith A. Cook, Beyond Methodology (Indiana University Press, 1991). They’ve tackled the tough issues in research from a perspective that adopts feminist values. I’ve written about the subject/object issue and the nearly impossible problem of power within the researcher/research subject relationship. The Acker essay also address the question of analysis when they adopt a principle that research consistent with feminist values should continually develop a feminist critical perspective that questions dominant intellectual traditions and can reflect on its own development (Acker, 133.) They observe that their commitment to minimizing the power differentials of the relationship in research was further confounded when it came to analysis. They recognize the problems in attempting to produce an analysis which goes beyond the researched while granting them full subjectivity. They posed the question: “How do we explain the lives of others without violating their reality?” (Acker, 142.) In the course of trying to analyze their research, they became frustrated with the complexity of the material which did not lend itself to categorization. Acker says “Both the ways in which we were categorizing experience and the kinds of categories we then developed were still somewhat antithetical to or theoretical position” (Acker, 143.)
Ackers relies on her theoretical beginnings in Marxism, feminism and critical theory. She concludes by observing that “…in the process of analysis we refined and reshaped our initial questions, trying to make the act of objectification analogous to a moment of critical reflection. The concepts and questions that are central in our final report are different from those with which we started” (Acker, 144.)
We are just beginning the process of analysis, but like Ackers, I find my own commitment to dialectical analysis and commitment to allowing the subjects to speak their own truth to be contrary to the use of rigid categories. In following Ackers, I am struggling to make this act of objectification more a moment of critical reflection. I got this idea for this project when I was in family court in Jefferson County. I was arguing a minor point with great eloquence when the judge remarked that she couldn’t hear me. Here I was, in this spanking new expensive court and the judge can’t even hear me. What was this architect thinking?
But then, my first background interview with the architect reminded me that the architect responds to the client. So much for blaming the architects for injustice. As we’ve progressed through the interviews and I try to critically reflect, I also find that my initial inquiry was really based on a sense that the architects seem to be striving for beauty and we need function. However, in the stories that have emerged, I am hearing a lot more than function and beauty. There is an incredible, complex functioning of the space in courthouses which creates ease, intimacy, clumsiness, aloofness, or any of a thousand other spatial relationships between people. These spatial relationships in many ways reflect or create the dynamic relationships of the participants in the judicial proceedings.
Delving further into the broad notions of categories and seeking the critical reflection which is demanded by Marxism, feminism and critical theory, I also see how narrow my initial vision may have been. In the interviews that have been conducted thus far, and even in the old books in the back room, justice is not about lots of natural light, beautiful paintings or comfortable chairs. Justice is not even about poor acoustics or making the defendant sit behind a glass partition. Justice is about relationships. Those relationships are those between the judges and lawyers and litigants and jurors. But even more, the relationships that are created and sustained in the courthouse are about the community and the bonds of the citizens to one another. The creation of space for the community to facilitate relationships based in equality, fairness, and peace is the function of the courthouse.

QUESTIONS, SUBJECTS, AND WHAT'S HIDING IN THE BACK ROOM

Today, we went to film at the Clarke County District Court, where Paulette appeared as a litigant. As it goes, we ended up booked to be filming at the Circuit Court and the District Court was unavailable today—being used for mediation.
As a researcher, I can’t limit my vision to what I can see. Just because I had planned to look at the older building with the paintings which would confirm some of my ideas, it doesn’t mean that’s the way it does (or should) develop.
Since we did have an appointment with the Circuit Clerk of the County, we walked over to that building and met a wonderfully charming woman who was nicely dressed in a grey suit who’d been a clerk, or deputy clerk, for forty five years. She was so kind to take a few minutes to talk with us. Joan Acker, Kate Barry, and Johanna Esseveld in their essay, Objectivity and Truth, published in Fonow and Cook, Beyond Methodology (1991, Indiana University Press) attempt to identify problems in doing feminist perspective. They seek to find modes of thinking, data collection and analysis that are more appropriate than others for studying the situation of women from a feminist perspective. In doing so, they challenge us in the theoretical reconstruction of our research to account for the investigator as well as those investigated. To locate the rsearcher in the social structure. They suggest that we ask the questions, “What are the social relations that produce this researchsituation and the enterprise of research itself? What makes it possible to raise this research problem at this time, in this place, in this society? What are the processes that have rsulted in the researched and the researchers coming together in a particular kind of social relationship?” (Fonow, et al, 146).
Today, we had our first interview with the Clerk who was a person that neither of us had a social relation. I did tell her that I was a lawyer in a neighboring county and Paulette had filled her in on her work at Shenandoah and EMU. However, we didn’t have a relationship. However, we do share a common interest—courts. This kind woman has devoted her life to seeing that the paperwork of the court is orderly addressed. And while we have no history of trust or adversity or companionship, we still share this love of justice and a fascination with the structures which are to house its producers.
The Circuit Clerk seemed a little more reserved and less likely to launch into a story as did those others with whom we have dialoged. However, she was so kind and forthcoming. She did describe the structure of this unusual courtroom and brought up a theme which has emerged. When she moved to the new courthouse in 1978, she also missed the old courthouse, and the lack of formality and community that was shared. She indicated she has gotten used to it, but I couldn’t help but think of the others who have raised this issue.
In Objectivity and Truth the researchers adopted a format of discussion similar to the transformative inquiry. However, they noted, “One strategy was encouraging the interviewee to take the lead in deciding what to talk about. This did not always work, people have ideas about what it is like to be interview end they want to be asked questions so that they can give the ‘right response” (Acker, et al., 140.) Perhaps the Clerk was in that category.
Another delightful surprise by our winding up in the Circuit Court was the unusual space. It is set up as a circle. At first I found that delightful, exciting and quite beautiful. But when I started thinking about where everyone would sit (since I knew that there are assigned seats) I noticed that the defendant would be at the side of the circle, against the glass and wood paneled wall. The prosecutor would be sitting next to the judge. Mmmm. Maybe the circle isn’t the perfect structure for the courtroom. Further physical research took us to a small room off of the main courtroom filled with volumes of “law books.” On one wall was a group of the Virginia Code, that’d be useful “good law.” However the next wall was filled with old case books dating back to 1858. Another gem was a 1939 bound report of the West Virginia Bar meeting. I recognized many names, including Judge Sander’s father. This speaks to the history of the place I suppose. The back room has a bunch of old books that someone undoubtedly donated at one point which still form the backbone of this building.
Paulette’s interview went well. It was strange to be interviewing her, but I have decided that including our own experiences is important not only to be ethical in disclosing our own positions or biases, but also in showing our commitment to our interview subjects that we are not asking them to expose themselves and more than we have. Again, relying on Acker, in their interviews they offered something about themselves to their subject at the end of the interview but reported that it was usually required, the subject had already asked (Acker, at al,141.)

From Paulette:

What struck me most about today was our "deconstruction" of the design of the circuit courtroom. As Brenda says, at first glance the built environment seemed welcoming. A circle! What could be better?! But when I sat in the defendant's chair I realized I felt trapped - actually pinned against the corner made of bullet proof class. It was the farthest point from the judge and literally "framed" - I felt anyone sitting there had the appearance of guilt - it was obvious who was being protected by that bulletproof glass.

It was interesting to be interviewed about my experience in the court. Talk about serendipity... the Winchester Star published a story this morning talking about the portraits that hang in the Berryville Courthouse. I had noted those portraits when I was there for a traffic ticket a few years ago. I felt a little oppressed by the paintings at the time because they reached from floor to ceiling and because I assumed they were all of confederate soldiers. Come to find out from the article - they were all lawyers and judges involved in the courthouse - what a cool historic thing! And an example of what Judge Sanders described as an "architecture of the mind". My assumptions were holding me back.

The relational aspect of courthouses emerged unexpectedly from my interview as well. I remember being surprised when I stood before the judge after my speeding ticket.. that he was conversational and very human... interested and amused by the fact that I received the speeding ticket on my way to Clarke Co. dog shelter. The cop that pulled me over was pulling for me not to have too strict a sentence - I had expired stickers as well as a lead foot.

Brenda asked me whether I felt I had received justice - I did because I was acknowledged, joked with and because I felt that I was trusted with some leniency. It made me respect the system - I've certainly not sped on the way into BVille again.

I also realized that my experience in that courthouse would be much different today than it was the first time because I am more a part of the community. I do yoga with a circuit judge - I know a lot of the lawyers from the Daily Grind - I go to the post office across the street nearly every day. The speeding ticket experience drew me farther into the community... today I feel that courthouse is a much more welcoming place - I no longer feel like the label of just being a northern yankee feminist... I am a contributing community member with ties to cultural, educational, environmental parts of Clarke County and ties to those who are a part of the courthouse. The courthouse is my courthouse. Perhaps that ownership and inclusive part has to do with justice.

NOVEMBER 14: A GOOD DAY FOR TRANSFORMATIVE INQUIRY

NOVEMBER 14: A GOOD DAY FOR A TRANSFORMATIVE INQUIRY
Yesterday was a productive day. Paulette and I interviewed the judge, the regional chief public defender and an assistant prosecutor. But I have to wonder if it is a true interview. I would prefer to avoid that. What we are engaging in, really, is a dialog. For video. And in doing so, we are researching, but at the same time, we are learning and changing. The incredible dialogs that we had today remind me of a quote that has been attributed to :Tich Nhat Hahn, “In true dialogue, both sides are willing to change.” I enjoyed true dialog today—I left the interviews with a changed outlook. I think that Paulette did as well.
When Howard spoke in class, he discussed the transformative inquiry. Surprisingly and predictably, we have adopted most of the guidelines and values for that research in our work. (See Howard Zehr, “Us and Them: A Photographer Looks at Police Pictures: The Photograph as Evidence.” Contemporary Justice Review, 1998, Vol 1 pp. 377-385.) Our work is aiming not only at “pure” knowledge but also social action. I think we were working on this on two levels—one is we were engaged in a dialog where we were introspectively exploring definitions of justice. At one point Paulette and Deb and I were discussing the women’s witness room and Paulette commented on how I had hugged the witness and questioned whether or not the hug was justice. Deb smiled and didn’t seem to hesitate to agree that justice might be a hug. We also left off copies of Howard’s Little Book which could lead to some future exciting projects with our participants.
The transformative inquiry also acknowledges that much knowledge is subject, constructed and interrelational (Zehr.) Part of the inquiry recognizes our own stories that we bring to this research. Paulette and I are including interviews of one another and our own perceptions on justice and architecture. During the dialogs, we frequently revisit each of our roles within the judicial processes and our experiences, even to the extent that the Judge shared his memories of attending court as a child with his father at the Mercer County Courthouse.
The transformative inquiry also recognizes the complex and limited natures of our findings. (Zehr). It is my hope that as we edit and present our “findings” that they will not be “truths” at all—but the simple stories that have been told to us, in an honest, and forthcoming means by our storytellers.
Transformative inquiry also respects “the subjects” with values such as collaboration, accountability, transparency of goals, methods of motives, benefits to subjects and opportunities for the subject to present themselves in their own voice. We have agreed with the subject not to broadcast our dialogs until they’ve had the opportunity to review them and find that our representations fairly present their stories. We have presented ourselves as students of restorative justice who are intrigued to learn what the physical space of the courthouse has to do with justice.
Another aspect of transformative inquiry is that our role is that of facilitator, collaborator, and learner more than neutral expert (Zehr.) As I’ve written consistently since 1990, I don’t have a notion how to be either neutral or an expert. What is an expert anyway? A disinterested professional who is engaged only for the money? I have never practiced law with that vision and don’t intend to conduct research any differently. The possibility of even a judge being neutral was dispelled by legal realism in the 1920s. To deny our own histories, ideas, intentions and dreams as we approach any project is a dangerous lie.
After we had the dialog with the judge, I thought about how sad it was that we are not given more opportunities to engage in a discourse in theory more frequently. I have been appearing before this judge for about twelve years. However, I have never had the opportunity to hear the deep insightful wisdom that he offered on such a theoretical basis. (As a matter of fact, during some of his rulings I have to admit that I was skeptical that he had any wisdom left—at all!) The value that am able to attach this process, where we are taking the time to sit down and talk about these very real, but at the same time, theoretical questions is consistent with Howard’s proposition that transformative research values the process, as much as the product.
As far as the issue of being attuned to the potential harms and unintended consequences for the subjects, and others (Zehr)—we are taking every step we can to remain respectful and provide those with whom we are dialoging the opportunity for a review. I am also proposing that prior to publication, we circulate our video product to others who may have an interest in this topic to help us be aware of potential unintended consequences.
Transformative research also seeks a balance of subjectivity and objectivity—where we avoid co-optation. Since this is self-funded that is not an issue. Since our dialog is with my colleagues, I suppose that we should be aware of a potential based on that relationship. However, I would add that in this profession, we disagree more often than we agree. I have filed appeals and writs against this Judge at the Supreme Court. I have argued vehemently against the public defender. Thus, while I think that our relationship provides a risk for cooptation, I do not think that it is so great to outweigh the value in working with those with whom this dialog is possible, in part, because of that relationship.
Finally, the transformative inquiry employs verbal and non-linear, as well as linear, methods of elicitation and presentation. During our dialogs, I had some burning questions and area of questions that I knew should be included. What do you like and not like about different courtrooms and why? What role does aesthetics play? How did you feel in the dilapidated John street courthouse? Your clients? How did that affect the proceedings? Justice? What experience do you have with the women’s witness room? Do you think Justice might be lurking in there somewhere? However, I didn’t know the order of the questions or even whether or not they may have meaning in each interview. What I did know that in each case, I was talking with someone who has been working for a long time for justice. I wanted them to tell me, in their time, in their own voice, in their own, what the building had to do with it, if anything.

After this full day, Paulette and I left the courthouse excited. We’d learned so much more than we had imagined. We’d heard stories that we couldn’t have anticipated. And this simple little project developed its own story, one that we didn’t write, but certainly share.