Social workers witness trauma - and - quite specifically - the legacy of trauma. This is the detritus that we witness on a regular basis. The trauma is bad enough in many cases but the clean up can tae years. As we have been seeing on a regular basis in the news, victims of sexual assault rarely report the crime. When they do, conviction rates are low.
Here in Canada, we have been watching a judge being "tried" to determine if he will keep his job. He made inappropriate comments in a sexual assault case illustrating a failure to understand the crime. I'm sure you can quickly think of dozens of sexual assaults that have been handled poorly by justice systems in various places around the globe.
Other forms of inter personal violence are also typically under reported.
As social workers (along with other front line responders) we become witnesses to the impacts of the trauma. It is particularly hard when victims lack the voice to be heard. It is also sad when the justice systems fail to respond and protect victims. When we see these failures, we can feel as though we might own the failure as our clients turn to us trying to understand. We often lack explanations.
These cases tend to haunt us. Many front line workers tell the story of the case where someone dies as a result of systemic failures. It happens. In truth, most of the cases where a child dies, people forget that it was not the social worker who killed the child but a caretaker. Even so, we bear the scars.
In meditation, there is an opportunity to develop compassion for not only the victim but also the perpetrator who, themselves, are typically victims as well. They bear the burdens of their own traumas which they live out in their emotional and physical violence, creating another generation of traumas. Compassion is not a free pass - it is understanding in a way that helps us to see the vulnerable, hurt person who is also the perpetrator. When we find the compassion, we carry less hurt within ourselves.
Yes, there are some perpetrators who make compassion hard. The German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer reminds us that "compassion is the basis of morality." It is also the foundation which separates us from those who would be violent. It is that fine line that matters.
Here in Canada, we have been watching a judge being "tried" to determine if he will keep his job. He made inappropriate comments in a sexual assault case illustrating a failure to understand the crime. I'm sure you can quickly think of dozens of sexual assaults that have been handled poorly by justice systems in various places around the globe.
Other forms of inter personal violence are also typically under reported.
As social workers (along with other front line responders) we become witnesses to the impacts of the trauma. It is particularly hard when victims lack the voice to be heard. It is also sad when the justice systems fail to respond and protect victims. When we see these failures, we can feel as though we might own the failure as our clients turn to us trying to understand. We often lack explanations.
These cases tend to haunt us. Many front line workers tell the story of the case where someone dies as a result of systemic failures. It happens. In truth, most of the cases where a child dies, people forget that it was not the social worker who killed the child but a caretaker. Even so, we bear the scars.
In meditation, there is an opportunity to develop compassion for not only the victim but also the perpetrator who, themselves, are typically victims as well. They bear the burdens of their own traumas which they live out in their emotional and physical violence, creating another generation of traumas. Compassion is not a free pass - it is understanding in a way that helps us to see the vulnerable, hurt person who is also the perpetrator. When we find the compassion, we carry less hurt within ourselves.
Yes, there are some perpetrators who make compassion hard. The German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer reminds us that "compassion is the basis of morality." It is also the foundation which separates us from those who would be violent. It is that fine line that matters.
Silent Witness
There it is
Not a word will be spoken
A story will be told
It is one for which every effort will be made to withhold
It is a story that must be told
And cannot be withheld
If the reader truly seeks
to find it
Looking down I see the need
Crouching
I come to look into the eyes
Not a word is needed
I see eyes that are too old
For such a child
Eyes that stare
Refusing to yield
These are the eyes that have witnessed
I move ever so slightly
The eyes fixate
The body tenses
The story is now told
It is not ready to be spoken
I have become the truth holder
Until the child can find voice
If ever
© Peter
Choate, 2016
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