Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird (31 page)

According to Stanley Fish, the problem lies in the difference between decisions that are “just” and those that are “legal.” Fish writes, “Just outcomes would be nice and let's hope we have some, but [Obama's critics argue that] what courts should deliver is legal outcomes” (para. 3). Critics fear that empathy will result in results-oriented judging that sets aside legal precedent if need be. Given the call by Amnon Reichman and other legal scholars to study how all people—not just judges—make “empathetic judgments,” understanding the relationship between empathy and judging takes on a greater importance (303). For these legal scholars, and for Obama, real justice is empathetic, not abstract or blind. Using Obama's empathy standard to look at Atticus's closing arguments, we see once again that he has not appealed to empathy. Instead, Atticus requests blind justice from the jurors.

From what we have examined here, we see that there are at least two aspects of empathy important to law. First, there is Justice Brennan's “interconnectedness,” that is, recognizing the connections between ourselves and even the most despicable criminals, since we are all members of the same community. Second, there is Obama's demand that judges be able to recognize how the great power of the law affects each person in a unique way, to be able to climb inside the skin of each party that stands before a judge. Reichman and others modify this demand by claiming that all people, not just judges, should practice empathic judging.
3
For Reichman, empathy can “enhance our ability of understanding the nuanced significance of [a legal] conclusion” (308).

The need for this nuanced understanding of the effects of law on those different from ourselves is greatest when we are faced with moments of deep social upheaval.
To Kill a Mockingbird
(1960) was published at the height of the American civil rights movement. The federal Civil Rights Act was passed four years later in 1964; the Voting Rights Act in 1965. Significantly, the novel is set in the 1930s, at the depths of America's economic depression, in Alabama, one of the most economically depressed states in the United States. Given this historical context,
Mockingbird
can be read as a means for white, middle-class people of the 1960s to engage emotionally—but peripherally—with America's racial injustice. Because the novel rarely encourages readers to empathize with Tom or the other black characters, white readers do not have to view this injustice through the eyes of black folks; in other words, for white readers, there is no risk of revelation. Furthermore, the novel depicts the “bad old days” of egregious racism and racial violence, when lynch mobs operated with the implicit endorsement of the state. Compared to the bad old days of the novel, twenty-first-century racism is nigh invisible.

Atticus tells Scout that she should strive to empathize with the folks she encounters in everyday life. But he often fails to follow his own advice. In the episodes of the novel examined in the following pages, readers can observe moments in
To Kill a Mockingbird
in which the characters might practice empathy. These studies reveal that, for the most part, the novel fails to model cross-racial empathy and further suggest that this failure can be attributed to fear of revelation. I will examine these scenes for moments when the novel (1) demonstrates interconnectedness; (2) privileges empathetic judging over “blind” judging; and (3) overcomes white fear of revelation in order to more honestly portray black characters. These three “elements” of empathy, however, cannot truly be considered as separate practices, as the readings that follow will show.

The Face-Off at the Jail

An examination of the lynch mob scene at the Maycomb jail using the three-part framework just described reveals that Scout helps the mob to recognize its interconnectedness with Atticus, revealing a bond that results in the mob's dispersal. This recognition saves the Finches and the man they have come to protect, Tom. The empathetic judgment demonstrated by the lynch mob, however, is limited to the white characters, and therefore the scene never truly challenges white fear of revelation. In fact, Tom is invisible in the scene, nearly voiceless. This scene ultimately treats Tom as a bone over which the white people fight rather than as a full-blown character.

The face-off occurs the night before Tom's trial begins. Earlier that day, Tom is moved to the jail in downtown Maycomb. When Maycomb county sheriff Heck Tate comes to warn Atticus about the risk of violence against Tom, Atticus responds by diminishing Heck's warning: “Don't be foolish, Heck. . . . This is Maycomb” (
TKAM
165). When Heck says that he is “uneasy,” Atticus replies, “I don't think anybody in Maycomb'll begrudge me a client, with times this hard” (165). Atticus seems to rely upon the small-town good will that other citizens feel toward him to protect his black client from being lynched. Atticus implies that lynching Tom, when the economy is rocky, would be impolite to Atticus. As Gladwell points out, Atticus displays a surprising nonchalance toward racial violence; Gladwell attributes this nonchalance to insularity: “Finch will stand up to racists. He'll use his moral authority to shame them into silence. . . . What he will not do is look at the problem of racism outside the immediate context of . . . the island community of Maycomb” (para. 15). I believe that Atticus's inability or unwillingness to see racism as a large-scale problem is yet another manifestation of his failure of empathy. He cannot see the connections between the unsuccessful lynch mob in Maycomb and the horrific lynchings that took place in other parts of the South.

Despite his skepticism that a lynch mob will come after Tom, Atticus goes to the jail the evening before the trial. He brings a chair, a lamp, and a newspaper and sits outside the jail, reading. Scout, the narrator; her older brother, Jem; and their friend Dill sneak downtown to check on Atticus. Jem, knowing a little more about racial politics, is worried about his father. As the children watch from a hiding place, four cars pull up in front of the jail. A large group of white men, mostly rural and poor, emerge from the cars. Scout describes the scene:

“He in there, Mr. Finch?” a man said.

“He is,” we heard Atticus answer, “and he's asleep. Don't wake him up.”

In obedience to my father, there followed what I later realized was a sickening comic aspect of an unfunny situation: the men talked in near-whispers.

“You know what we want,” another man said. “Get aside from the door, Mr. Finch.” (
TKAM
171–72)

Atticus appears calm while facing the lynch mob. Maintaining a tone of authority, he relies upon his superiority of class and education to gain control of the mob. They are poor; he is wealthy. They are farmers who work with their hands; he is a lawyer who works with his mind. They live in the country; he lives in the city. They are largely illiterate and speak ungrammatical English; he reads while waiting for them and speaks perfect English during the confrontation.

Although Atticus's power successfully keeps the men quiet and forces them to pause in their mission, it is Scout who convinces them to leave. The man who commands Atticus to step aside is Walter Cunningham, a man known to the Finch family. Walter is a client of Atticus, and his son, Walter Jr., is a schoolmate of Scout. Recognizing Mr. Cunningham, Scout emerges from her hiding place to speak to him, disrupting the standoff. She treats the man with respect, calling him “Mr. Cunningham,” and attempts to discuss his legal problems with him. She persists even though he ignores her at first. Eventually he responds to her kindly:

Then he did a peculiar thing. He squatted down and took me by both shoulders.

“I'll tell him [Walter Jr.] you said hey, little lady,” he said.

Then he straightened up and waved a big paw. “Let's clear out,” he called. “Let's get going, boys.” (
TKAM
175)

Cunningham rounds up the lynch mob and they depart. Earlier in the novel readers learn that this same individual trades hickory nuts and greens for Atticus's legal services because the Cunninghams are too poor to pay cash. With her words at the jail, Scout reminds Cunningham of his indebtedness to Atticus, thereby shaming him. Thus, the lynch mob is defeated not by brute force—which they embody—but by language and education: by Scout's words and Atticus's legal knowledge. When Scout reminds Cunningham of the services Atticus provided to him, he recognizes the interconnectedness between her family and his own. This is a moment of judgment: at first, the mob judges Atticus as a lawyer protecting a suspected black rapist. After Scout's words, however, the mob—through Walter—sees Atticus as a white man, a father of children who are similar to their own children, and a lawyer willing to share his skills with the poorest of farmers. The next day, Atticus points out this moment of empathy: “So it took an eight-year-old child to bring 'em to their senses . . . you children last night made Walter Cunningham stand in my shoes for a minute. That was enough” (179). Notably, however, Scout's words at the jail did nothing to create cross-racial empathy: no one was standing in Tom Robinson's shoes.

During the standoff with the mob, it is easy to forget whose life is on the line: that of Tom, who remains invisible inside the jail and silent during the confrontation. After the standoff ends, readers learn that Tom has not been asleep, contrary to Atticus's words. Because the readers are unaware of Tom's conscious presence, we are able to ignore his needs and fears during the standoff. Readers are able to forget the person whose life is really threatened by the mob and instead focus on the physical threat to Atticus and to his children. When Jem stands by Atticus in the standoff, “a burly man,” one of the mob, “yanked Jem nearly off his feet” (
TKAM
173). After the standoff ends, Atticus reveals his fear when he “produced his handkerchief, gave his face a going-over and blew his nose violently” (175). Readers only learn of Tom's presence after the standoff, when Atticus speaks to him through the window of the jail:

“Mr. Finch?”

A soft husky voice came from the darkness above: “They gone?”

Atticus stepped back and looked up. “They've gone,” he said. “Get some sleep, Tom. They won't bother you any more.” (
TKAM
175)

It is important to note that during the standoff, Tom not only cannot defend himself; he cannot even speak on his own behalf. Atticus, and Scout, must speak for him. Although Tom is a grown man, he must be saved by an older white lawyer and his eight-year-old daughter. He is both helpless and, when Atticus tells him to get some sleep, childlike. His helplessness at the jail, combined with his helplessness at trial and his shriveled arm, render Tom powerless as a character and therefore safe for white audiences to engage with. Unlike, say, Wright's Bigger Thomas (from
Native Son
), Tom Robinson presents no risk of revelation to white audiences of the novel.

The Trial

As previously discussed, the standoff is just one of many moments in which Tom is presented as weak and nonthreatening, thereby creating sympathy and pity, rather than empathy, in the novel's audience. A second scene occurs in the courtroom during the trial. The trial scenes also demonstrate an emphasis on interconnectedness, instances of empathetic judging, and moments when characters overcome the fear of revelation. Yet Atticus does not try to prove that Tom and the white people of Maycomb are interconnected; instead, he shows that the Ewells are
dis
connected, impeaching Tom's accusers. Furthermore, Atticus does not ask the jurors to empathize with Tom when they pass judgment, but rather to empathize with Atticus and
sympathize
with Tom. Thus, in the end, the jurors are not asked to overcome their fear of revelation and engage in cross-racial empathy.

The trial of Tom Robinson takes place in the span of one day. Readers watch the trial from the perspective of Scout and the other children, who sit in the balcony with the black citizens of Maycomb. The prosecutor's witnesses are the sheriff, Heck Tate; the father of the alleged victim, Bob Ewell; and the alleged victim, Mayella Ewell. Heck Tate testifies that the victim was beaten on the right side of her face. Bob Ewell claims to have seen the attack through the window of his home. Mayella accuses Tom of raping, beating, and choking her. During cross-examination, Atticus establishes that the majority of Mayella's injuries were to the right side of her face and that Bob Ewell is left-handed. Once the prosecution rests its case, Atticus calls only one witness: the defendant, Tom. When Tom testifies, the jurors learn some important facts, including the detail that Tom's left arm had been severely damaged in a childhood injury. Tom testifies that Mayella tried to seduce him and may even have planned this seduction by saving money to send her younger siblings to town for ice cream.

During his cross-examination of Mayella, Atticus further demonstrates the Ewells' disconnectedness from the rest of Maycomb. Scout describes the cross-examination:

Atticus was quietly building up before the jury a picture of the Ewells' home life. The jury learned the following things: their relief check was far from enough to feed the family, and there was a strong suspicion that Papa drank it up anyway—he sometimes went off in the swamp for days and came home sick; the weather was seldom cold enough to require shoes, but when it was, you could make dandy ones from strips of old tires; the family hauled its water in buckets from a spring that ran out at one end of the dump. (
TKAM
208)

Clearly, Mayella's life is depressing, nearly horrifying, for Scout and for the rest of the residents of Maycomb. With this description, Atticus hopes to show that, because her life is so horrible, it is plausible that Mayella Ewell, although white, would have tried to seduce Tom Robinson. Thus, the evidence about the Ewells that Atticus puts before the jury is primarily designed to disconnect, to squash empathy between the jurors and the accusers.