Violence

A discussion about justice and violence.

Through the glass window of the school room, I watched the soccer team practice their kicks on the football field.

I put my hand over my chin, watching them, bored out of my mind.

"You know this wouldn't be happening if you didn't beat that kid." My professor says in a calm voice.

"What was I supposed to do, let him beat a girl to death?" I reply.

He adjusted his glasses with one finger, he sat on his chair with his feet on the table, reading a book ironically named "The Art of War."

"Have you tried to reason with him?" He asks.

"Reason don't apply to people like that." I told him.

He smirks.

"Well, why did you think violence would stop him?"

"Because then he'd be afraid." I replied.

He sat straight on the chair, the room slowly grew darker in the light of the setting sun. He sets his book down.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

He puts his hands together in a praying position, and puts them on his lips.

"Afraid of what exactly?" he asks.

"Afraid that when he does it again, I'll beat his a*s." I replied.

The corners of his lips almost broke into a smile.

"And you were very lucky he was alone. But can you take three of them, how about four?"  He asks.

"I'll beat as many as I can, at least that girl didn't have to suffer." I replied.

He was smiling now.

"And why did you defend that girl?" He asks.

"Because she was innocent!" my hands clenched into a fist.

"Do you believe in the saying 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'?" he asks.

"Yeah, why?" I replied.

"That girl isn't as innocent as you think she is." he says.

"That girl was being bullied!" I screamed.

"That girl drugged the 'bully's' little sister causing her to get raped in a party." He used his fingers to indicate quotations when he said "bully."

My fists relaxed.

"She, what?" I asked.

"December 24th, the alleged bully threw a party in his house with his friends, and invited over 30 different people at his house."

He started opening his book.

"His little sister being one of them, drank from  a plastic cup that was dosed with what you call 'roofies'. She was unconscious on the bathroom, the men had too much to drink. You guess what happens next."

He flips the page, casually reading.

"There's no way you would've known it was her." I said.

"There was a packet of the drug found in her purse. Do you seriously want to keep defending that girl?" he replies.

"There had to be motive, why would she do that otherwise?" I explained.

"Oh yes, of course there was motive, the victim had been given a teddy bear from the suspect's crush."

"And that made her angry?"

"Very."

"That's not fair."

He sets his book down again.

"Who told you anything about fair?" He asks.

"It's not fair you defended a suspect, not fair that his brother never got the justice he so deserved. It's not fair that his little sister's still being made fun of, no, it's not fair at all."

He stood up and started walking towards my desk.

"And you sir-"

He sets his hands down my desk, leaning towards.

"-are now a part of this injustice." He finished.

My legs were trembling. What have I done?

"I-, I thought I was doing something right."

"Without knowing the situation, no, you weren't."

"How did you expect me to know! I saw a girl getting bullied! Of course my first instinct was to defend! If I knew she was like that I would've-"

"Let it happen?" He asks.

"I-, maybe. I don't know."

I slumped on my desk.

He started for the windows, peering out.

I looked outside and saw the soccer team arguing. Soon enough they started throwing punches.

"Ah, violence. We think it's the answer to everything don't we?" He asks.

"It is." I agreed.

"Violence is not the answer to everything." He replies.

"But it is the answer to some things." I added.

"How so? Like you defending that girl? You added fuel to the fire and made a problem worse. Now that bully is out for you as well."

I tensed. He was right.

"What could I have done?"

"Maybe ask why he was bullying her? Grab a cup of tea, have a thoughtful discussion? And then you weigh out whether his violence will be justice to what she had done to him."

"It was at the spur of the moment, he would've fought me too." I replied.

"At the spur of the moment, everyone fights. A cornered mouse fights more ferociously than the toughest lion."

He adjusts his glasses once more.

"He was threatened of course. He was afraid you will take justice from him, and you did. Now he's afraid of you, afraid of getting the justice he so deserved."

"He could've called the police on her."

"And he did. But she was a juvenile. The courts couldn't touch her, and she claims it was all an accident, that it was meant for someone else to drink. He knew that was bullshit of course."

My eyes fluttered towards my professor. His hands were clenched, his face contorted in a face I knew too well. Anger.

"I, like any other man, want justice. I want to bring you the equivalent of pain you brought me. But an act of violence? Is it ever justified? of course not, violence never is." He says.

"And why do we say it's not justified? Because people say so. Ever heard the phrase malum prohibitum?"

I shook my head.

"According to Romans there are two different types of evil. Malum in se, the evil because it is evil, and malum prohibitum, evil because it is prohibited. Guess where violence falls."

"I guess malum prohibitum?"

"Correct." he says.

"Violence is often regarded to as an act of evil, but violence in itself is not evil, it is an act we've done way before we knew what evil was, thus making it  a natural human act."

He smirks.

"Violence is only evil when there is too much of it, and because people say it is. Doesn't change the fact that it's not."

He opens the book once more.

"Violence, is a primal act, the act of animals when they do not get their way,  or when they feel threatened, abused, or belittled.  We humans have developed better ways of getting what we want, persuasion, justice, equality, but in the end, we are still animals, albeit glorified ones,  and when we do not get our way-"

He turns his head towards me, his face hidden in the shadow of the setting sun.

"We all resort to violence. Because violence is one of our most ancient way of dealing with problems."

He sighs.

"Like how Britain fought China for opium. Or how Germany fought multiple countries to rid the world of the Jews.  Violence always happens when we want something we know we can't reach in any other way."

I look at the clock. My detention was over.

"So what do you want me to do? Beat the girl to death?"

"Of course not, I want you to know that justice is not equal to violence, because unlike justice-"

He turns towards me.

"-violence is sometimes fair."

I stood up, and started walking out the door.

"So Mr. Davids, have you learned something today?" He asks me.

My hands slowly opened the door knob, and I saw in the pale reflection of the golden knob that I was smiling.

"Yes sir, yes I have."

Author's Note

I dreamt this discussion actually. Trying to type it fast before I forgot the details. Sorry for the cringe. Feel free to disagree with me too, I could use some new knowledge.