Concrete Barriers to Justice: Reframed

-- By MathewSaiontz - 31 May 2017

In the summer of 2013, I worked as an intern investigator for the criminal division of the Legal Aid Society in Manhattan. I spent my days traveling to crime scenes, interviewing witnesses, and performing defensive investigations to combat the prosecution’s evidence in court. While this experience provided a first-hand exposure to the pervasive disparities and discriminations present in the day-to-day of Manhattan’s criminal justice system, it also rendered me painfully aware of a different structural issue: the reinforcement of inequality through spatial segregation of the prosecution and defense organizations.

In law school, there is a perpetual emphasis on the importance of our roles in society as defenders of justice. This belief is captured in our classroom discussions, which revolve around the principle that the practice of law is fundamentally based on either a passion for justice or a hatred of injustice. What does one do when justice is systematically hindered by some structural injustice? How can our society overcome injustice that is so nefariously ingrained in our criminal justice system?

There is little doubt that the system is deeply flawed. From the proliferating abuse of discretion at all levels of the justice system to the crushing statistical evidence of racial discrimination in arrest and conviction rates, there are many prevalent issues that must be addressed. This essay explores one such issue that, while seemingly subtle, may have a dramatic psychological impact on the pursuit of justice: how the physical spaces of the criminal justice system are largely ignored in conversations about justice, and continue to perpetuate an inequitable power dynamic between the prosecution and defense.

The impact of physical spaces on power dynamics is not unique to the criminal justice system. In the ethnographic work, Liquidated, Karen Ho analyzes the intensive impact of spatial segregation on the investment banking industry. In most investment banks, the more senior bankers’ and executives’ offices are on the higher floors, highlighting their superiority in physical location as well as in title. Further, the elevator banks in investment banks are such that certain elevators only service particular floors; the effect is that low-level bankers must return to the lobby in order to switch to a different bank of elevators that only access the upper levels. Ho stresses that such rigid separation not only reinforces social hierarchy, but also influences employee behavior: lower-level traders and bankers feel an enhanced physical pressure to engage in more high-risk, high-reward business transactions in the hopes that a large pay-off might lead to a promotion, as well as a seat upstairs.

The criminal justice system in Manhattan exhibits a similar pattern of spatial segregation. The New York County District Attorney’s office, responsible for the prosecution of criminal charges, has its primary office on the same block as the criminal courthouse in lower Manhattan; the two are so close that assistant district attorneys can access the courtrooms without needing to step outside. In comparison, Manhattan’s system of criminal public defense is split amongst eleven different agencies based all around the island, with the closest central office (The Legal Aid Society) situated half a mile from the courthouse. While this distance may be slight, both personal experience and anecdotes from senior Legal Aid attorneys affirm that one’s physical appearance and demeanor in court easily suffer after a half-mile walk on a hot summer day.

Notably, the effects of this spatial segregation are not purely physical. Just as the higher floors in the investment banks reinforce the dominance of senior executives over junior bankers, the convenient location of the prosecutors exudes superiority, almost as if they have the inside-track on the courtroom. Further, it is no coincidence that the prosecutors, the judiciary, and the corrections offices are all housed in the same square block complex. This physical organization creates the notion of comradery and companionship between these groups, to the explicit exclusion of defense attorneys. The result is the perception that defense attorneys are competing against the system rather than acting as a part of that system. Thus, instead of the ideological equal playing field that justice so demands, defense attorneys inevitably enter the courtroom with the subliminal thought that the prosecution has the home-court advantage. And they’re probably right.

If the spatial segregation in Manhattan’s criminal justice system contributes to an existing issue of inequality, how can we, as future lawyers, respond? It would be naïve to imagine that we could ‘demolish’ the existing structures and rebuild a more equitable foundation. Moreover, there are many legitimate justifications for the current spatial organization of the justice system, such as increased administrative efficiency from housing certain government organizations in close proximity, or respect for the wishes of private attorneys who enjoy isolation from government buildings. Thus, the proper response may not be to eliminate this spatial segregation, but to instead find creative ways to take advantage of it.

The next generation of lawyers might best respond by proactively reframing the spatial relationship between defense counsel and other parties in a way that shifts the power dynamic in a more equitable direction. For example, if I were a public defender in Manhattan, I would employ my physical separation from the other parties as a means for reinforcing my loyalty to my client. I would use this separation to facilitate a stronger, more trusting relationship between my client and myself, their attorney, as opposed to simply another cog in the machinery of “the state”. This type of strategy could be employed universally: defense attorneys everywhere could highlight that, because they are physically detached from the prosecution and the police, they are not a part of the system, and are thus more capable of having their client’s best interests in mind. The next generation of lawyers could utilize spatial segregation as a tool for reassuring their clients that they are separate from the very system that has constantly stacked the odds against them. The structural separation of defense counsel and other parties can serve as a shield for justice rather than a concrete barrier.

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