People are pre-occupied with
perfection. People strive towards perfection. People are never happy unless
they ‘have’ perfection. People obsess about perfection.
See? It has taken me, a
self-confessed perfectionist, four different sentences to express the same
idea: people want perfection. Unfortunately, through all of our self-lecturing
for getting up three hours later than expected, eating Frosties for breakfast,
and then sitting around in our pyjamas watching Jeremy Kyle until noon AGAIN,
we miss something. People are imperfect.
This demand for perfection, and
fury at imperfections is well-illustrated in public opinion of the legal
system. We idealise the legal system to be sacred, and pure, and perfect. It is
the stuff of comic books: The holy beacon of justice, run by these
‘superpeople’, who are far more intelligent, eloquent well-bred and efficient
than we could even fathom. Yet every superhero experiences a backlash. How
could our sacred, untouchable system ever go wrong? Why did it go wrong? How
could that rioter get six months for stealing two bottles of water? Why haven’t
rioters’ benefits been taken away? Why is this system not perfect? Holy smokes
Batman- there is no justice anymore! And so, the myth of the legal system as an
impenetrable ivory tower perpetuates, and we continue grasping for perfection
in life, spectators and commentators on injustice that is seemingly evident
everywhere, yet never taking action as we are too busy deciding which cereal
contains more antioxidants, and feeling disappointed in the fallen idols we
elected to save us.
People are imperfect. The legal
system is man-made. The legal system is imperfect. A man-made creation is
susceptible to man’s fallibility. We put the ‘law’ in ‘flawed’. Trials are slow
due to inadequate facilities to hear cases. Trials are costly. Access to legal
services is narrowing due to Government cuts to legal aid and closure of legal
centres. Evidence is lost or inadmissible. Witnesses are unreliable. The law is
inconsistent. The UK ‘adversarial’ approach to trial (Prosecution v Defence)
means verdicts often depend on who has the better lawyer, not the case with the
most merit. It may seem preposterous that we rely on such an imperfect system
to resolve the ever-present problem of disputes and crime. This is correct. It
is preposterous. It is preposterous that we so easily rely on such a small, select
number of academics, judges and MP’s to reform. The law was designed by us, for
us, over thousands of years through cases, protests, lobbying, legislation, and
public demand. It is imperfect. Of course it is imperfect – we designed it. But
it is OURS. The law doesn’t belong in an overpriced book in Waterstones, or in
a weekly supplement in The Times (although do give those a read – it’s
fascinating stuff). It belongs in public everyday discourse. It doesn’t belong
as the preserve of ‘learned’ academics, or even of several thousand law
students. The law is not to be preserved, like a ready meal, full of E-numbers
we can’t pronounce, to remain frozen until the inevitable zombie apocalypse.
The law is fruit. Fresh, often covered in an impenetrable skin which, once
peeled, exposes a raw juice which can taste bitter at times yet once consumed,
is often nourishing. Like fruit, the law cannot be left to fester without being
used. It simply expires and rots. The law is best when exposed and consumed by
the public.
To draw another terrible
parallel, in ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’(required watching by all students),
Buffy says in ‘Chosen’: ‘In every generation, one Slayer is born, because a
bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. So I say we
change that rule. I say my power should be OUR power.’ Back in the
unfortunately non-supernatural real world, in 1176-7, King Henry II divided
England into six parts or ‘circuits’, to which he assigned three ‘justices’ or
‘circuit judges’, who were assigned to travel around resolving any disputes
which arose in their ‘circuit’. It is from this early creation that our current
legal system is born. The administrators of ‘justice’ are no longer selected by
the monarchy, or even the House of Commons. Legal reasoning and reform is no
longer the preserve of the few. Everyone who should have a say, can have a say.
Everyone who wants to understand the law, can understand the law. It is in
bookshops and on the internet. There are law firms and campaigns on Twitter.
Parliament can be lobbied and petitioned. Cases are available to read. Courts
are open to the public. What is happening in OUR legal system is open to
discover and scrutinise. It’s almost like a democracy! Oh wait...
I have never experienced absolute
perfection. What I do experience is waking up each morning. What I always
experience is the passing of time. I have tried and succeeded. I have tried and
failed. The Art of Carrying On. The art of finishing something. A job
application, a letter, a book, a sprint, a drug program, a petition, a
campaign, an article, a day, a month, a year. Life changes. In my second year of A-levels, I nearly
dropped out as I wouldn’t get the ‘perfect’ grades, which, of course, would
ruin my entire life as a result. My Film Studies teacher (Incidentally, I
nearly dropped Film at AS Level. I now worship regularly at the Church of
Stanley Kubrick) said this: ‘Would you rather finish a race at 16th
place, or not finish at all?’ I carried on with my A-levels. I have now
completed my first year of Law with a First Class grade. You had a bad day – it
is about 99% certain you will wake up tomorrow. People are imperfect.
Parliament, Whitehall, the Police, the Court – all imperfect. Perfection
doesn’t exist, but beauty, love and goodness still do, as they did yesterday,
and today, and tomorrow, making you smile as you eat that flapjack that you
really shouldn’t have bought because you are breaking that diet you don’t need
to be following, which will be burnt off during that walk to clear you head
from that loan/uni/job application that isn’t going well RIGHT NOW, but will be
completed, sent off tomorrow and forgotten by next week. The Art of Carrying
On. Such is life.
By Siobhan 'Shaz' Wilson
