As the world seems to get smaller through faster and better information flows, our knowledge of poverty, abuse, and damaged lives seems to grow.
We long for justice; for communities in which people treat each other well and take care of one another.
How do we encourage these kinds of communities?
Public conversations often seem to imply that the state bears primary, if not full, responsibility for social justice.
It is as though we have become programmed to think of the government whenever we face serious social challenges. Without large-scale solutions, millions of dollars, and the force of the law to call upon, we feel helpless to fix big problems.
State power though, is not ultimately, what is best for people who are hurting.
Sometimes asking the giant, well-funded machines of government to care for people is like asking huge rugby forwards to do a pirouette.
If social justice is to become more than just a trendy ideal, then each different part of society needs to play its role and do what it does best.
The government is well equipped and responsible to help the needy in certain situations. Yet in other situations, government involvement can actually make matters worse for the poor and vulnerable.
What is the difference between the two? Which situations warrant government involvement? When it comes to caring for the hurting, when should the government act and when should we call upon other social institutions to take the lead?
Two ‘fallen women’
The stories of Shyima and Star, two women in California, illustrate this point.
Both women were rescued from seemingly hopeless circumstances, but the ways they were rescued varied, because of their different circumstances.
When Shyima was nine years old, she was sold by her parents and trafficked from Egypt into Orange County, California, where she worked essentially as a slave in an upscale suburban home.
Despite the size and opulence of the home, Shyima was made to sleep in a garage that had mice and spiders, but no windows and she was given only a bucket to use as both a makeshift toilet and wash bin.
Every day, while other children went to school, she not only did the cooking, cleaning, and ironing for the household, but also served as the personal maid for two young boys. Whatever they wanted her to do, she was at their beck and call.
Merciful rescue
One day, after receiving a tip from a curious neighbour, a police officer and an investigator visited the house. When the owner gave evasive, contradictory answers and refused to let them speak with Shyima, the investigator sought a search warrant, removed Shyima from the premises and drove her to a local emergency shelter for abused or neglected children.
Within the safe confines of the shelter, she was finally able to attend an affiliated school, learn English, and receive counselling and legal representation.
Shyima remembers fondly the help that the workers at the shelter gave her.
“They really took care of me, they were always there for me. Even if they did not understand [my Arabic], they were there for me.”
Eventually, the couple that had kept her as a slave for three years went to prison.
Today Shyima attends community college, volunteers with a local law enforcement education organisation, and lives with her adopted family, who are building her a room of her own … with windows.
Drug Addict
About 20 years before Shyima was brought to southern California, it was home to a troubled young drug addict named Star. As an African-American, Star grew up feeling enslaved by racial prejudice.
She recounts how she “bought into the lie that there was nothing in America for me except institutional racism and glass ceilings that would keep me from getting promoted. So I became very rebellious.”
Her anger and rebellion led to reckless and dangerous behaviour.
At one point, Star was arrested for helping to rob a liquor store, and over the span of just a few years, she had four government-funded abortions.
Eventually, Star tried to settle her life down. She gave birth to a daughter and started working at a newspaper, but that did not last long. She quit because she knew she could get more on welfare than she could at her full-time job.
As the welfare cheques came in, she would drop her daughter off at a government -funded day care, sell her free medical-care stickers to purchase illegal drugs, and hang out and get high at the beach all afternoon.
It was only when she met several role models and began worshipping with a local church that things really began to change.
She recalls her pastor one day preaching a message about responsibility and Godly Living. She began to ask herself, “What are you doing living on welfare?”
At about the same time she was also introduced to a young black couple who lived in a nice home and spent quality time with their three children.
A great turnaround
The couple talked to Star about setting goals, and encouraged her to begin taking classes at a local university. Star was captivated and finally convinced that a better life was possible for her.
Shortly thereafter, she wrote to the government welfare office and told them to stop sending her welfare cheques. She soon landed a good job, earned her degree, and launched her own magazine. Today Star is married and is the founder of a social policy research centre, but she works from home so she can spend more time with her own children.
Editor’s Note: These two stories do not end here. There is more to come with some searching questions in our next issue.
The above is a Maxim Institute Guest piece by Ryan Messmore, originally printed in its Winter Selection 2010. Mr Messmore is a William E Simon Fellow at the Heritage Foundation in Washington DC.
