Dignity

And so a saga of three months comes to a close.

The close, in particular, saw state henchmen in disparate yet collusive forms scrambling to counter the threat of individuals exercising autonomous creativity while seeking collective resolution to a situation beyond the control of any one person. Nelson Mandela once wrote, “Though they talk of liberty and human dignity they are subordinate henchmen of the ruling circles.” Henchman is an all too appropriate term on this occasion. Ridiculous robes aside.

The day may or may not come to bear much significance as the years go by if time is kind enough to erase the memories. Ideally, time should erase the traumatic replay of a moment of horror that made sleep fleeting for a while. But it could have been worse. For certain, spirits intervened to save lives that summer day from the grim reaper. Time, should it be kind, can leave the astonishing communal feelings and actions of solidarity. For certain, communities came together to support physically, mentally, emotionally. This will not be forgotten.

Even though the state henchmen were no match for the power of people coming together to make decisions about their own lives, for a moment it appeared there were conflicting and confusing sides. Who are the allies? Who are the foes? After all, aren’t they supposed to represent the people? Doesn’t that mean they must respect what the people decide, even if they disagree? But they sure tried to get their way. In a defeat that was solemn and unnoticed, the state, at best, appeared harmfully paternalistic. At worst, unnecessarily redundant.

But this is hardly surprising. In a mosh pit of anachronistic laws combined with heavy doses of casual state violence embedded within structures of trauma and poverty, the state appeared insolent. Why couldn’t people be left alone to decide their own lives even when they have been wronged?

It took three tries. Three tries to convince the henchmen to respect the people’s autonomy. Three times of countless moments of negotiating through redundancies already discussed and agreed upon. Three times of the state needlessly delaying a just result. In a place where the clock ticks but most lives remain frozen, the henchmen commit the ultimate crime: they rob people of their autonomy and their time.

Why?

To prove they still matter.

When can the henchmen be charged?

Perhaps in our societal conditioning we picture the halls of justice with a blindfolded woman holding golden scales that are supposed to represent our collective, socially contracted deal with the state to behave. “Protect us, and we will allow you to keep our tax money and your entitled leisure,” we are told we once said.

But as with all contracts, what’s more intriguing is the fine print. The state responds casually, “Offend me or my gods, who have by now ordained property as an invisible arm of the trinity, and there’ll be hell to pay.”

To mark this solemn vow we have the blindfolded lady to assure us that she’ll strike regardless. She does not care how the scales are balanced. She does not care who is involved. Justice will be justice. After all, she cannot see. That’s supposed to alleviate our collective fears of unfairness.

Unfairness. Is that supposed to be our worst fear? Says who?

Perhaps the blindfolded lady should lose the blindfold. If she did, she might have seen people coming together to decide their own lives with dignity. She might have seen people asking what others need and matching an ability to give with that need. She might have seen people be adamant that their agreed upon deal be respected. John Holloway once wrote, “Dignity is the unfolding of the power of No. Our refusal confronts us with the opportunity, necessity and responsibility of developing our own capacities.“

Both sides refused the state’s unsolicited offer. It was not what was agreed upon. In doing so, people labelled foes demonstrated both the power of autonomous decision making and the futility of a system that never had the interests of people at its heart to begin with. It was certainly a jarring moment for the henchmen who likely believe they are doing god’s work. Is god blind too? If not, why do we subscribe to the idea that earthly powers deciding our fate should be? More importantly, why is this tolerated?

Lady justice needs to lose the blindfold.

In losing the blindfold, she may finally see the violence. The casual violence of not seeing what goes on the scales. The casual violence of not seeing who is impacted by those scales. Ultimately, she may see the violence of robbing people of what are arguably our most prized possessions: our autonomy and our time.

Can standing up for our autonomy and our time be a modern definition of dignity?