For All Mankind's fourth season ends with a monologue by Margot Madison on the subject of justice. How it is so difficult to achieve in a universe eternally resistant to easy summation, but how, despite that, there is still hope. Like Margot, I often ruminate on the subject of justice. On fairness, and on what is "right" in a resolutely chaotic reality.

My early education on these subjects was a pretty simple one. God has the final say, and He knows what He's doing, so there's no need to worry. A lot of what I was taught was similarly simple. By my parents, by my pastors, by my teachers. There was a way things were, or were at least meant to be, and that's all. There was no real learning, just memorising the key details and being prepared to recite them when the occasion called for it.

I don't really blame my parents for the simplicity of their lessons: preparing a child for the world while keeping them contained enough to stay out of trouble and eat their veggies is no doubt a maddening balance to maintain on top of one's own personal obligations. Nor do I begrudge my teachers for avoiding too much nuance: wrangling 25+ kids into the crooked and hastily-cobbled pen of knowledge prescribed by the Department of Education, according to its methods and on a teacher's salary seems like the most devilish rodeo on earth. My pastors... well, I'm sure they felt they were doing the right thing.

The result, though, was a person with a strong feeling of knowing what justice looks like, who never sees it, but doesn't know, either, how to achieve it. Just that it's a thing you teach or preach about until the audience gets the idea and renounces their wicked ways thenceforth. Simple. Not terribly effective, though. I've easily spent more of my life lecturing people on the nature of justice and life's lack of it than on making up for that lack through my own actions. But, ultimately, people either didn't need to be told and so didn't care to be lectured, or did need to be told and so didn't care to be lectured. I am not convinced that there's no place for the preacher of justice, but it behooves a speaker to know their audience, and their venue. No sense sermonising without pulpit, pews, or parishoners.

I worry now about the disparity between the amount of injustice around me and my level of skill in counteracting it. There's a lot of practice to put in if I'm to affect much change, even in small ways. And as for where to start... well, beginning is hard. But, I still retain the image of justice in my mind, and it's a goal well worth seeing.


Today I played video games and watched TV, tended to the cats, did some laundry, and cleared out the dryer's lint trap as a bonus. I'm grateful for the efforts made by my parents and teachers, through all their own difficulties, to try and make me a decent person.