Gangs and the case for compassion
An American priest has shown there is another way to deal with gangs. But would it work in New Zealand? Tommy Livingston reports.
The wrong idea has taken root in the world, says Father Gregory Boyle, and the wrong idea is this: there might be lives out there that matter less than other lives.
For more than 30 years, the Jesuit priest has worked with hardened gang members on the streets of Los Angeles. He has kept count of the 227 young people he has had to bury as a result of gang violence. All kids he loved, killed by kids he loved.
His work led him to establish Homeboy Industries, the biggest gang rehabilitation centre in the United States. Rivals from different gangs come together to work side by side at Homeboy.
Many leave behind their pack and find, as Boyle puts it, ‘‘their own unshakeable goodness’’. Thousands of men and women have overcome addiction, trauma and turned their lives around due, in part, to what has been described as Boyle’s boundless compassion.
He tries to remind society that we are called to ‘‘stand in awe of what these people have to carry, instead of judgment in how they carry it’’.
His world view grates against the ongoing commentary about gangs, whether in the US, New Zealand, or pretty much anywhere.
Just in the past month, Simon Bridges blamed Labour for being soft on crime, which he claimed led to an increase in gangs who ‘‘peddle misery’’. He later walked back his comments by saying he believed in ‘‘redemption’’, but there still needed to be a crackdown on criminals.
At the Police Association conference last week, a top officer said gangs were increasingly skilled at improving their image and ‘‘legitimising themselves’’ in the public eye.
And last weekend, gang members in Wairoa fired shots at a police officer’s home and at the town’s police station.
There is no doubt that the impact gangs have on society is real. The level of destruction they can, and do, dish out is well documented.
But as Boyle asks, is coming down hard ever going to work if we don’t realise we are dealing with people who have had hard lives?
Maybe, he suggests, the answers to getting rid of gangs lie in helping the people who join them, and less in stamping out the problems they produce.
‘Awe eliminates judgment’
Every person knows what gang involvement entails: ‘‘It’s either death or prison,’’ Boyle says. The problem is that those who join gangs don’t care about those outcomes.
The long-held idea that people join gangs because they are seeking something is often wrong, he claims. ‘‘No, instead they are always feeling something.’’
The thousands of gang members who have walked through his office door – and the thousands more he’s met who never got a chance because they are serving lengthy jail time – have all had one thing in common: childhood trauma.
Intergenerational drug dependency, poverty and violence are always hallmarks of a gang member’s upbringing. It is these unseen scars which often force young people to flee their pain in search of something more painful.
All behaviour is a language – if you have got men shooting at each other, taking drugs and destroying their lives, you have to ask, ‘‘What are they trying to say?’’
A lethal absence of hope has been infused into gang members, Boyle says. Unable to see a future for themselves, they rebel. And in turn, get further away from their communities.
Tattooed gang members with ‘‘f... the world’’ written across their heads isn’t always appealing, he admits. But what is underneath the posturing is all the same.
He admits he is unlikely to have survived even a day in the lives of the people he works alongside.
‘‘Once you know that somebody is stuck in a dark despair, or once you know unspeakable things were done to them, or once you know that mental health is an excruciating burden for them, then you are in awe of what they have to carry. ‘‘And awe eliminates judgment.’’ Dr Jarrod Gilbert, a leading voice on gangs in New Zealand, agrees. While policing is an important part of managing crime, society needs to have a better, more nuanced conversation about gangs.
‘‘You don’t get too many welladjusted middle-class people who went to school with a full belly joining gangs in New Zealand,’’ Gilbert says. ‘‘It tends to be people who were kicked from pillar to post and whose upbringing would make people utterly horrified at the trials of their existence.’’
If cracking down on gangs was the answer, the problem would have been solved by now. Instead, politicians have turned the issue into political fodder. In the meantime, gangs have continued to grow.
‘‘[Politicians] stand on those hustings not to genuinely attempt to solve the gang issue but to garner their drug of choice – which is votes.’’
Leaving the gang problem at the feet of police is also unfair, he says. Expecting cops to be able to turn gangs around is an ‘‘impossible task’’.
The approach has to be smarter public policy that equips gang members and wha¯ nau to find a better way forward. It also requires a shift in public thinking.
‘‘If you are going to raise good children, you reward them when they do right and punish when they do wrong. With the gangs, we punish them regardless.’’
Sir Kim Workman says most gang members – whether they admit it or not – want to live a better life. Often they just need direction on how to find it.
Workman, who was knighted this year for services to prisoner welfare, says: ‘‘They will often say, ‘We don’t want a handout, we don’t want a hand up – we just want a hand’.’’
He believes we live in a ‘‘risk aversion’’ culture that focuses heavily on prevention and little on rehabilitation. But things like longer jail times will never put a dent in gang culture.
He hopes public attitudes are slowly changing as people become more aware of the push and pull factors of gangs.
He has seen successful programmes in different communities and marae that work with gang members and their families to provide better outcomes. Making those success stories more prominent is important. ‘‘We have to demonstrate a more compassionate and collaborative approach.’’
Smarter, not softer
The collaborative approach Workman talks about it is the kind of work Genesis Tekuru White wants to see.
A member of Black Power, White says the harder side of gang life is
A lethal absence of hope has been infused into gang members, says Gregory Boyle, above. Unable to see a future for themselves, they rebel.
often lived by those who have struggled to know who they are.
‘‘Suicide, domestic violence, drug abuse, incarceration. That is what comes from not having a strong foundation and an understanding of who you are.’’
White, who works with his wider wha¯ nau and iwi on social initiatives, says it is important Ma¯ ori continue to help lead the change in gang culture. Many of his fellow gang members with rough backgrounds find firm ground when they connect with te ao Ma¯ ori.
White credits his passion for helping his community to his father, Whitiaua Sonny White, who died earlier this month. He helped many gang members and their families connect with their Ma¯ ori roots. The result has been a generation of gang members who have been able to claim their identity.
Denis O’Reilly, a longtime Black Power member, agrees the marae has proven to be the place where the best work is done. Better funding for rehabilitation programmes for Ma¯ ori is not being soft on crime, it is being smart, he says.
When Homeboy Industries was created, Boyle thought employment would save people’s lives. As time went on, he learnt only healing could really do that.
At Homeboy they ‘‘do the work’’, equipping the men and women with counsellors to deal with the horrors they’ve endured.
An employed gang member is one thing, but a healed gang member is someone who will never reoffend, Boyle says. ‘‘They end up with a broad-shouldered resilience which is unstoppable. They won’t be toppled again.’’
Former Notorious Mongrel Mob member Bruno Isaac agrees deep change is always best. In his case, it was finding members of society willing to support him which improved his life.
Gang members have a responsibility to better themselves, but the public also has to be willing to receive them compassionately. ‘‘I had that support, and I still have it today. Church, and people who don’t condemn but are there relentlessly guiding through your life. Supporting you when you are going to fall over, so you can get back up.’’
‘Delighting in people’s goodness’
Keeping humans at the heart of conversations about gangs is essential, Boyle believes. In many ways, the ultimate goal is to ‘‘stand with the demonised until the demonising stops’’.
Standing with the ‘‘homies’’ for as long as he has has left him sure the work is worth it. He is realistic that change takes time. Some people need more than one chance to get it right.
It’s not about turning up to a gang pad and offering hugs and baking. But there is a better conversation to be had, he believes, and it starts with how individuals respond to gang members in their neighbourhoods.
Cracking down with hard language and public policy hasn’t worked in LA, and it is unlikely to work here. We should be trying to bridge the divide, not create a bigger one, he says.
His critics will always say his approach is too soft, but the success he’s had is real. Hollywood heavyweights and presidents have praised the work he’s done.
He invites everyone to see people as more than the worst thing they have ever done.
Once, he was approached by a man who asked how communities could better reach gang members in order to help them. Boyle’s response was simple: ‘‘How can you be reached by them?’’
Compassion isn’t just about feeling the pain of others, it’s about bringing them in toward yourself.
‘‘If it was burying kids all the time, this job would be hard, and although I have buried a lot of kids, the work has mainly been delighting in people’s goodness.’’