J U S T I C E

Reconsidering justice and our obsession for it

J. Y. Gao

HUMAN BEINGS ARE RATIONAL AND INTELLIGENT BEINGS. Embedded in our behaviour and psychology is a concept that served us well in our days of wooden clubs and mud paint, but is perhaps something that needs to be reconsidered in this time of increasing unrest. Of course, I refer to the concept of justice. I have, in the past year, grown steadily in my recognition of the extent to which the achievement and sustaining of justice underlies all of our actions. Indeed, this is an unexpectedly recent find; it was not three months ago that I first announced in words and thought in concrete definitions that most of my passions and arguments, as well as my life goals, are all based around the concept of justice. And perhaps more interestingly, this idea of justice seems to have permeated through the actions of society; the current affairs I witness – especially in regards to police discrimination, the rise in feminism, cancel culture, woke culture – are all conflicts that originate from this very foundational concept of justice. And I assume this feeling of unease and restlessness nags away at your chest too when you are convinced you have been unfairly done by. May I go a step further and picture the rage I hear bubbling in your heart when you discover that whatever has been done to you can not be repaid?

Some artists of our current culture (and during periods in the past), have profited immensely from crafting themselves or their work as a channel through which your build up of unease can be released. Now, whenever I think about ‘payback’, or more precisely, revenge, I think of my main man: the egotistical but brilliant filmmaker, Quentin Tarantino.  Tarantino has, on numerous occasions, justified the gruesome violence he has so often showcased in multiple instances in each film as cathartic – and any Quentin lover would know that IT IS. When an oppressed and unfortunate character that is so lovable and charismatic (a character like Django), restores balance to a movie whose entire plot prior to that point had been dedicated towards tipping the balance the other way, there is a ‘feel good’ feeling that you FEEL, subconsciously, like a brick has been lifted off your chest. 

When justice is framed in cinema in such a way, especially when talking about Quentin, where good and bad in terms of who the audience empathises with is so very distinct (and persuasive), it is easy to ignore some crucial factors – before letting the justice rejuvenate your belief of good in the world. One of the main factors that is ignored is that justice is, alas, an arbitrary construct of mind and human behaviour. Perhaps spiritually, it is dictated by a higher power but as far as the physical world is concerned, our system of justice is relatively customised and personal. Ultimately it comes down to a difference in personal values, which could be in turn influenced by your past, your friends and family, and the societal context you submerge yourself in. In order to know if, when and how much to pay back a wrongdoing, an individual must quantify to some mental scale the ‘unacceptableness’ of the action, and calculate the appropriate output. Of course, this means that because of the infinite amount of possible data points and criteria points each action may have, and because of the diversity of people’s belief systems, this quantified value stays extremely inconsistent with whatever population sect you pick. 

Let me share some wisdom from our favourite playwright, Big Will. King Lear is a complex play about many things for many reasons. But one of the ‘literary readings’ that we can take is the story of the Prodigal son in King Lear. At the start of the play, Lear depends on fair tests – his understanding of justice – to determine how much his daughters love him. His quantified version of values that he thinks represent what he truly looks for in character is human, to say the least. Through a series of story beats, we find a Lear that is destroyed and at the bottom of his character arc. Tragically, Lear’s resurgence is too little too late, and as he holds the daughter who truly loved him from the start in a tight embrace, he finds strength and clarity in the mercy and forgiveness his daughter demonstrated. 

Let’s leave some things ‘un-measured’ and ‘un-quantified’. For if your brother “was lost and is found,” that’s all we need to celebrate.