One Rural Judge’s Reflection on “Shared Suffering” by Michele Statz
Commentary by Honorable David E. Ackerson, on Michele Statz, On Shared Suffering: Judicial Intimacy in the Rural Northland, 55 Law & Soc. Rev. 5 (2021).
I was asked by the Rural Review to write a reflection on the referenced article. I have a rather unique contextual perspective on the article, being one of the rural trial judges in Northeastern Minnesota who was interviewed by Dr. Statz. Some of her quotes, with names changed to protect the innocent, came out of my own mouth, and I could have said most of the rest of what was attributed to her many subject interviewees.
I was a Minnesota state trial judge of general jurisdiction for 36 ½ years in the same small town where I grew up. I have been retired for almost three years. So I have lots of stories, although nobody pays much attention anymore, and my jokes are apparently not as funny as they used to be. At the same time, I find my perspective refreshingly unfettered by any allegiances to the “system.”
Dr. Statz, from her title to her conclusion, speaks of “shared suffering” as a point of intimacy between rural judges and those individual parties, mostly indigent and pro-se, who come before the judges in the rural northern courts. The word “suffering” derives etymologically from the Latin “sufferre,” to bear from below. When Dr. Statz connects rural justice with “Subaltern Cosmopolitan Legality,” bottom-up rather than top-down, she is right on. Further: the etymology of “compassion” is suffer with. Thus, at the very base of her thesis of what makes rural justice work is this idea of compassion, of subjective, relational empathy and kindness. And more further: the same Latin root, “patientia” is plainly revealed in “patience”, which in my view is the better part of the wisdom, Sophia, that mates with the word of law, Logos, and thus in the manner of the iconic statue of Lady Justice, leads to true, restorative justice. This is deep truth, and I most wholeheartedly thank Dr. Statz for her work in beginning to reveal this truth in a professional, courageous, creative, and I submit ground-breaking manner.
Thus, at the very base of her thesis of what makes rural justice work is this idea of compassion, of subjective, relational empathy and kindness.
Dr. Statz directly confronts the urban-centric hegemony and epistemology of the system and how they burden rural justice. She speaks incisively and eloquently of a judicial approach that she describes as commonsensical, ad hoc, deeply intimate; an emerging alternative to top-down hegemony, “born of shared suffering and power-filled resistance.” She endows her work with acute insight born of hard work, and in a most professional manner. Members of the legal profession are not naturally familiar with the scientific methodology of an “Anthropologist of Law” who teaches at a medical school, thus her scholarship gives to all of us rural judges and legal practitioners something beyond our own anecdotal experiences. She constructs a rock-solid foundational groundwork for unveiling the emergent blossoming of a restorative rural justice unfettered by the dictates of time-worn urban-centric models of how the legal system and the legal profession should work.
And so, dear reader, if you, as I, at first reading had no clue of the meaning of such terms as: “hegemony,” “epistemology,” “subaltern cosmological legality,” that is the whole point. Not many of us do. This is most certainly even more true as to the litigants and parties who do in fact appear in our rural courts, and who will in fact receive something, some measure of justice, regardless of where the systemic power dynamics might be perceived to exist and by whom.
Those of us who have worked in the field of rural justice are vulnerable to that age-old criticism by anyone with a vested interest in protecting the existing system, to wit: “Well that’s your story and your opinion, that is anecdotal, but where is your data?” Now a totally appropriate reply would be: “Have you ever read the scholarly work of Dr. Michele Statz?”
Now I must be clear that Dr. Statz does not say, nor do I, that every rural judge is a prince/princess; in the rural northland I have known a few self-righteous, condescending jerks that I would not wish on anyone. Likewise, it is nowhere written that urban judges cannot be wise. However, there are certain undeniable system dynamics at play.
We in the legal profession seem to be saddled from law school with the presumption born of urban-centric hegemony that: if we do law, justice will follow. I have come to be personally convicted that we have it backwards. In truth, we must do justice, then let the law follow, and catch up if it must.
For one, in our metro areas are millions of people served by dozens of judges. The likelihood of frequent or ongoing contact or connection between a judge and any individual party is simply far greater in rural areas where the synchronicities of intersection of stories can lead to more opportunities compelling judges to relate to marginalized folks with “shared suffering,” a humble respect born of the radical idea that they truly matter.
Another undeniable truth is that rural communities are closer to the earth, more easily close to the great creation in all its natural splendor. In the same manner as many Native Americans have lived in harmony with Mother Earth for millennia, we are beginning to see budding and blossoming from the earth the emerging potential in rural America for the seeds of a more reconciling and restorative justice system.
Let me raise a final point. Dr. Statz rather ruefully suggests that the “shared suffering” efforts of rural judges are not “sustainable.” I think she is really tossing out the question: “how can they be?” In my experience the answer is like sustainable agriculture: that a rural judge can be close enough to Mother Earth to look and listen with the eyes and ears of her/his heart; and come to know that the Source of Life is perfectly hidden yet perfectly revealed in every blade of grass, and in every one of the last, lost, least, littlest persons who come to court. Then the “shared suffering” transcends mere well wishes, instruction, and even co-responsibility; then the “shared suffering” becomes accompaniment, walking together. Rural reconciliation transforms--and this is the real key: rural reconciliation transforms not only the person who is a party in court, but also, profoundly, amazingly, the person on the bench wearing a robe. It is like pouring out a bucket under a fountain, the flow is truly sustainable.
I say more: As is reflected in the subject article, we in the legal profession seem be saddled from law school with the presumption born of urban-centric hegemony that: if we do law, justice will follow. I have come to be personally convinced that we have it backwards. In truth, we must do justice, then let the law follow, and catch up if it must. Daunting to be sure, but we can look to that beautiful Lady, blindfolded, standing on a book and a snake, in one hand holding a scale, in the other a two-edged sword, and we can let the earth show us what it means to do justice.
I believe there is a radical subjectivity in rural justice being unveiled by such professionals as Dr. Michele Statz, with her uniqueness of vision and approach; her energy and courage in forging ahead into unexplored territory; her professional ability to articulate and explicate her findings. Her work reveals the development and cultivation of a crop of restorative rural justice that promises to yield a hundredfold harvest, not only in new scholarship, but also in a greater transformational impact upon the beautiful human beings who are the subjects of the restorative justice work of rural reconciliation.
For Dr. Statz’s scholarship, from the legal profession, she deserves a heartfelt “thank you.”
The Rural Reconciliation Project thanks Judge Ackerson for this generous reflection on Dr. Statz’s work and rural justice more broadly. We welcome similar contributions from a range of rural and non-rural voices and have posted submission guidelines for more information here.
