Brief Analysis of the Ethics of "To Kill a Mockingbird"

Film Analysis of To Kill a Mockingbird

     The choice for this film analysis was ultimately between two movies that made a strong impact on me over the past year, or so: The Lady in the Van starring Maggie Smith and To Kill a Mockingbird starring the iconic Gregory Peck.  Both motion pictures are excellent, one following a real-life story of London’s Miss Shepherd and the other based on the classic work by Harper Lee, but a decision had to be made.  The ultimate choice of topic for this paper, then, is To Kill a Mockingbird.  In part, this is based on the fact that I wrote a research paper last term entitled “Atticus Finch’s Identity Crisis,” which compared and contrasted Harper Lee’s two books—only one in a sense, but that’s a digression to be clarified within this academic paper.  In choosing this movie, I have selected a work full of rich ethical complexities that are successfully navigated by the protagonist, Atticus Finch.  (While the narrator is arguably Scout Finch, Atticus Finch is best described as the protagonist of the novel and film.)  In personal communications with Gregory Peck’s daughter, Cecilia Peck, she recently described to me why this role was so deeply important to her father.  

I think what he said himself sums it up so well, "I put everything I had into it — all my feelings, and everything I'd learned in 46 years of living, about family life and fathers and children. And my feelings about racial justice and inequality and opportunity.” He did put all of himself into it. And he championed the making of the film at a time when most of the studios were not ready to address the subject of racism in films. Although it may not seem groundbreaking today, at the time, the book and the film were enormously impactful. I believe they helped to shift attitudes in our country and point towards the Civil Rights legislation. My dad’s willingness to stand up for what he believed in showed in his performance as Atticus. Harper Lee and my father became inseparable for the rest of their lives. Their friendship came out of the relationship between the book and the film, which also became inseparable. As much as the book drove readers toward the film, the film drove viewers toward the novel. They are forever intertwined, and I think it’s one of the best adaptations ever from a novel into a film.  (Peck, Personal Communication)

        The movie is set in the fictional community of Maycomb, Alabama in the early 1930s.  This Southern community is one in which the race divide is like a chasm that runs deep and wide through a small American town.  When Atticus Finch becomes the public defender for Tom Robinson, a young black man unjustly accused of raping a white woman, Atticus’ involvement places his reputation and even the physical safety of his family in jeopardy.

     For the purposes of this analysis, this essay will be focusing upon the iconic courtroom scene from the motion picture.  The only notable difference between the film and the book’s narrative pertains to the representation of Tom Robinson’s withered left hand; it is not depicted as particularly deformed in the movie.   Since there are no significant differences between the book and the movie with regards to this particular passage, then, I am going to set the scene with an excerpt from Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill a Mockingbird.  In this scene, Atticus is referring to the alleged rape victim, Mayella Ewell.

I say guilt, gentleman, because it was guilt that motivated her.  She has committed no crime, she has merely broken a rigid and time-honored code of our society, a code so severe that whoever breaks it is hounded from our midst as unfit to live with.  She is the victim of cruel poverty and ignorance, but I cannot pity her: she is white.  She knew full well the enormity of her offense, but because her desires were greater than the code she was breaking, she persisted in breaking it.  Sher persisted, as her subsequent reaction is something every one of us have known at one time or another.  She did something every child has done—she tried to put the evidence of her offense away from her.    But in this case she was no child hiding contraband: she struck out at her victim—of necessity she must put him away from her presence, from this world.  She must destroy the evidence of her offense.  (Lee, 231)

The passage dramatizes Atticus’ willingness to rise to the passionate defense of Tom Robinson, but it further highlights his selflessness with regards to the very public nature of this defense.  He could have proceeded half-heartedly, for instance, which would have likely have safeguarded his reputation within the community.  Instead, he gave the defense his utmost, and in so doing he jeopardized his reputation with the townspeople of Maycomb, Alabama. 

     The first lens through which this scene will be examined will be the lens of integrity.  As Stephen Carter defines the application of this word, it requires one to “discern what is right, act on that discernment, and then publicly explain why you acted as you did.”  (Tompkins, 84)  No other ethical quality or dimension seems to describe so well what is at the heart of Atticus strident defense of Tom Robinson.  It is not defense rooted in anything remotely self-serving, but it represents a man taking risk upon himself (and family) for the good of an innocent man.  By intervening and accepting this client, his work as an attorney becomes akin to the person who sees something happening that is morally wrong and either interposes himself between victim or perpetrator or takes another manner of direct action to attempt to secure the greater good; it’s “taking a stand against the bystander mentality.”  It is so easy to let events pass one by without extending even a gesture of aid, but Atticus placed his entire livelihood within Maycomb in uncertainty when he undertook the defense of Mr. Robinson.  Applying the lens of integrity to the courtroom scene from To Kill a Mockingbird shines a bright light upon the unique character of Atticus Finch, a man who bravely articulates the truth regarding racism in the South, and its continuing role within crime and punishment, as well as the pursuit of truth.

     The second lens to turn to is the one called justice, specifically procedural justice.  “Procedural justice provides an alternative to the personal search for corrective justice by creating a more impartial process for discerning what is fair or deserving.  A process for procedural justice could be as simple as drawing a name from a hat or as complex as legal trial by jury of one’s peers.”  (Tompkins, 75-76)  It is Atticus Finch’s steadfast belief in the criminal justice system and the rule of law that is at the heart of his challenge to the community’s status quo.  He does not hold that only Caucasians are worthy of a fair and just trial; he believes it is something to which all are entitled.  It could be argued that procedural justice in the story’s end loses ground, however, in the heart of Atticus.  Integrity and procedural justice are in conflict when Tom Robinson is found guilty, despite the strong evidence to the contrary.  As if something was learned from this later in the work, Atticus Finch also relents in not publicizing the serious actions of the reclusive Boo Radley through the spotlight of a new trial.  While not directly in the scope of the scene being analyzed, it is important to raise this dimension of the moral and ethical development of Atticus Finch, as this ensconcing of the truth would have been against every moral fiber of his being before the attack upon his daughter Scout Finch.  The attack on his own family has revealed that integrity is the higher good than necessarily always following the rules of man’s law.

     As Cecilia Peck wisely observed earlier, “Although it may not seem groundbreaking today, at the time, the book and the film were enormously impactful. I believe they helped to shift attitudes in our country and point towards the Civil Rights legislation. My dad’s willingness to stand up for what he believed in showed in his performance as Atticus.”  (Peck, Personal Communication)  Both the book and motion picture are infused with a deep integrity and an appreciation of the rights of all.  Indeed, Aticus represents a character that is still emulated (by some) in the legal profession.  The work is poignant reminder of the good that people may do when the good of self is placed behind the good of others.

    

Cited Sources

Lee, Harper.  To Kill a Mockingbird, HarperCollins, New York, 1960.

Peck, Cecilia, Personal Communication

Tompkins, Paula S. Practicing Communication Ethics : Development, Discernment, and Decision-Making. Boston, MA : Allyn & Bacon, 2011. Print. 

        

 Works Consulted

"A Conversation with Gregory Peck," directed by Barbara Kopple. produced by Barbara Kopple, Cecilia Peck, and Linda Saffire.  performance by Gregory Peck.  Universal Studios, , 2011. 

Directed by Mulligan, Robert. To Kill a Mockingbird, produced by Horton Foote, performance by Gregory Peck, Mary Badham and Phillip Alford. Universal-International, 1962. 

(MLA style not retained in this essay due to spacing for blog readers.)

The Musings of a Frustrated American Literature Undergrad

(Title clarification: I am an English Literature and New Media undergrad studying American Literature this term.)    

 Unfortunately, I didn’t feel a particular connection with this week’s readings.  Not only were they largely unable to catch maintain my interest, but, with the possible exception of Li-Young Lee, each writer seemed to be characterized by a sort of melancholic and humorless resignation: individuals for whom it seems there is no hope of joy or meaning in present life.  I’ll be the first to confess that I have a bias in favor of the writers of past generations more than today—just as I tend to prefer classical composers belonging to centuries other than our own.  That said, I’m not usually overly critical, but the last two weeks of readings have been somewhat uninspiring.  Even with those authors and poets, like Sylvia Plath, who held my attention, the common thread that comes to mind for the past few weeks, at least, is one of despair.  While I can appreciate the need to gain some familiarity with some of these lesser known contemporary writers, it’s becoming an increasing challenge for me personally. 

     It’s more than a despair of the present, though; the attitude of these authors seems to convey a deep-seated and pervasive hopelessness running through these writers like blood runs through veins.  If we follow these threads of despair back through the past couple weeks, or so, a good starting point would be Sylvia Plath. 

You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who 

Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.  

But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look 

And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I’m finally through. The black telephone’s off at the root, The voices just can’t worm through.

Plath, Sylvia (2016-11-15). The Collected Poems (pp. 223-224). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

     As I observed last week, these words echo and reverberate like a popular tune that won’t go away.  The contrast of the darkly powerful and profound “Daddy” with more natured-centered works like “Winter Landscape, with Rooks,” “Channel Crossing,” or “Southern Sunrise” is also fascinating.  What mental or spiritual darkness led this author to veer so violently away from the appreciation of the beauty around her to a focus so upon the blackness of her own heart and mind?  If she is expressing sorrow and anger for the loss of her father, then why did she herself choose to commit suicide (using her own stove, after leaving food out for her orphaned children)?  Since her father reportedly refused medical treatment, does she see his death as morally synonymous with suicide?

     A similar thread of darkness infuses the writings of Ginsberg, and is conveyed with something akin to anger or a nightmarish rant in “Howl.” 

a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the 

     stoops off fire escapes off windowsills of Empire State out 

     of the moon,

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and 

     memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of 

     hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and 

     nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on 

     the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of 

     ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and 

     migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak 

     furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad

     yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken

     hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing

     through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and 

     bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at

     their feet in Kansas, who loned it through the streets of

     Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary

     indian angels, 

Ginsberg, as I confessed last week in the presentation discussion, neither caught my interest, nor did his writing seem to convey anything other than a sort of random litany of profanity.  It didn’t seem to me to represent profanity directed towards a higher purpose, but more like profanity for the sake of profanity.

     This week’s readings include an account of a disturbing male on male sexual assault within Junot Diaz’s “Drown,” a story whose protagonist is a drug pusher.  It’s not possible for me to find a redeeming characteristic from this particular story.  Nothing is conveyed other than a feeling of despair, isolation, and sin (the ultimate separation between God and man). 

     From my perspective, then, the last two weeks’ readings conveyed mainly inarticulate expressions of spiritual deficits and emptiness: form devoid of underlying depth of content.  Compare these authors to the more uplifting and edifying words of authors like W.E.B. Du Bois or Flannery o'Connor, and modern literature (as represented here) strikes me in a similar way as modern art and modern classical music: abandonment of time-tested traditions and methods in pursuit of dissonant and cacophonous artistic methods—from visual arts to music.  “If it feels good, do it” seems to be the modernist approach.  Whether something has inherent value, truth, or beauty is apparently irrelevant as long as the “art” is believed suitable for making one think.  I think I will go wash my brain out with some good Flannery O’Connor and reflect on a simple verse from Philippians 4:8.  Sometimes the most beautiful and eloquent writing is also that infused with the greatest truth; after all, truth is beautiful.

  

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Brand New Home on the Web!

We are excited to announce a brand new combined website for Karl Erickson's writing and Kimberly Erickson's glass art and illustrations.  You will find our new front door HERE.  We invite you to let yourself right in, but best watch out for the cat!

After you stop by, don't forget to let us know what you think!

A Suggestion for the Better Business Bureau

Christmas is a marvelous time to pause a moment and reflect on possible new perspectives upon culture and the labor market.  It's easy to accept changes as inevitable before we even consider possible approaches towards making things a little better.  On the side of writing and returning to college, I have been working as an Oregon State employee since 1997.  The following suggestion grows out of what I have observed over my past decade at the Oregon Employment Department.  It also grows out of my experiences before 1997 when I was often working three or four jobs just to stay as poor as a church mouse.  Please note that this is entirely an individual citizen's suggestion for the Better Business Bureau's consideration; it's not connected in any way with the state government of Oregon.

In what people such as Wingham Rowan (Director of Beyond Jobs) refer to as the "gig economy," we are seeing rapid changes in the way work is being performed as well as the ways in which workers themselves are hired and selected.  The employment landscape is so tremendously different from it was just ten years ago.  We can't unring the bell.  A significant component of this also touches upon employee vs independent contractor classification.  In many ways, certain sections of our country’s population are being exploited in new and deceptively subtle ways.

The general public has some inkling of of these problems, but not enough to become selective or particularly careful consumers.  This was highlighted for me the other day when a relative explained that she had hired a housekeeper online.  After identifying several warning signs concerning the transaction, I had to confirm her fears: the worker was likely being treated as an independent contractor, sporadically working for just a tiny fraction of the fee she was paying for her house to be cleaned.  She thought she was helping someone, but she may have just been contributing to a larger problem of “under-employment.”

BBB already certifies businesses as ethical and honest in business practices with consumers, but it’s never taken a closer look at the inner workings of the businesses—that I’m aware of anyway.  If BBB might consider an approach like this…it could have pretty significant ramifications.  To begin with, this is a largely untapped market.  Besides helping the consumer, it might begin to help level the playing field for honest employers, as well as educating the public as to the importance of working as an employee—or, at least, proceeding with regards to independent ventures with open eyes as to the financial, tax, and health implications.

Yes, a few BBB members may express concern with this new perspective, but I suggest the new business would more than make up for it.  Furthermore, what's the right thing to do?  These days, it seems many of our employment and banking opportunities (especially aimed at the poor) are geared at...keeping them poor, uninformed, and miserable.

Lastly, the above new certification suggestion for the BBB (or similar non-profit) should not be taken as an attack upon our free market system.  I think we have the best economy in the world, but I also don't believe employees should be exploited.  Small steps like this might yield exciting results.

Thoughts?

Karl Bjorn Erickson

Monmouth, Oregon

Dignity of Life as Reflected in Mary Sidney’s Psalms

     Engaging insights and illumination concerning the dignity of life within the Renaissance period can be attained through a careful reading of the Psalms as translated by Mary Sidney Herbert (1561-1621).   This essay will focus on Psalm 139, but it will first briefly touch upon the interesting contrast offered between Psalms 139 and 140.  While Renaissance refers to a rebirth of literature and the arts, it is seldom considered a period where the dignity or sacred nature of human life was genuinely and passionately articulated within its literature or culture.  The uneducated reader may erroneously consider the era only a short leap from the darkness of barbarism.  Some might even go so far as to argue that the high infant mortality suffered by those in this period inured them to violence and death, and, in particular, the tragic loss of children.  This is the same line of reasoning, of course, that asserts that young children were somehow less loved or less valued than their older siblings—all supposedly part of avoiding emotional attachment by the parents.   This paper, however, will demonstrate that this misguided view has more to do with modern culture looking at the past through the distorting lens of the present than the true culture of the Renaissance family itself.  This manner of darkness is especially far removed from Mary Sidney’s beautiful and compassionate translation of the Psalms, which are frequently infused with a profound sense of gentleness.  On the surface, a fundamental contradiction in the value placed upon life could be debated between Psalms 139 and 140 but it is a complimentary perspective.  In other words, seeking punishment with regards to the wicked does not diminish the value upon life, but demonstrates that life is something so cherished that it is worthy of taking up arms in its defense.  A high regard for the dignity of human life, particularly the innocent life, is clear found within this translator’s eloquent work.  In particular, Psalm 139 offers an astonishingly gentle and compassionate look at the sacredness of life.

     According to a simple online translation tool, Psalm 140’s heading, “Eripe me,” is a call for rescue—e.g. rescue me.  (Mahoney, Web) The psalm’s tone and language expresses a prayer that swift and terrible punishment be brought down upon evil men, even going so far as to refer to falling “coals” and “flames” play a part in divine justice.  (Sidney, 179)  The following passage is representative of the translation.

Protect mee lord, preserve mee, set mee free, / from men that be, so vile, so violent: / in whose intent, both force, and frawde doth lurke, / my bane to worke, whose tongues are sharper thinges / then Adders stinges, whose rustie lips enclose, / A poisoned hoord, such as in Aspick growes.  (Sidney, 179)

From the perspective of the innocent seeking shelter from attack, this passage seeks divine deliverance from foes, but it has much more to say than this alone.  Before moving towards deeper exploration, however, it may be helpful to the reader to see the same passage in the King James Version.  After all, this discussion is upon the translation of these two psalms rather than authorship.  (These versions are also from approximately the same period.)

Deliver me, O LORD, from the evil man: preserve me from the violent man; / Which imagine mischiefs in their heart; continually are they gathered together for war. / They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders' poison is under their lips.  (Psalms, KJV)

Examining the cursory differences between these two versions, one is immediately struck by the slower pace and richer descriptions associated with Mary Sidney’s words.  Her translation adds, or at least places greater emphasis upon, the distinction between force and fraud.  By this act, the translator seems to be creating a greater immediate connection between the text and her particular audience.  This attention alone upon the common and ordinary man, then, is describing each and every innocent and true life as something sacred and worthy of dignity in the eyes of God and man.

     While important similarities exist, Psalm 139 conveys a much different tone and focus than that Psalm 140.  It is a more peaceful exploration of hearts and minds as being open as “clossetts” in the sight of God.  The following passage, for instance, highlights some of these differences.

O Lord in mee, there lieth nought / but to thy search revealed lies / for when I sitt / thou markest it / no less thou notest when I rise / yea closest Clossett of my thought / hath open windows to thine eyes.

Thou walkest with mee when I walke, / when to my bed for rest I go / I find thee there / and ev’rie where / not youngest thought in me doth growe, / No not one word I caste to talk / but yet unuttered thou dost know.   (Sidney, 176)

Again, examine and contrast Mary Sidney’s translation with the same passage as within the King James version from Psalms 139:1-4.

O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. / Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. / Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. / For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether.  (Psalms, KJV)

While the meanings are essentially identical, Mary Sidney’s translation conveys a deeper and more personal connection, while, at the same time, also offering a gentler vision of the relationship between the reader and God.  In fact, the argument could be made that within Mary Sidney’s translation, there is a suggestion of a personal relationship with Christ as opposed to a more distant, formal, or legalistic relationship.  If one first reads “No not one word I caste to talk / but yet unuttered thou dost know,” before reading the corresponding verses from the King James version, one sees this sharp contrast.  (Sidney, 176)  In selection of this more personal voice, Mary Sidney’s translation is again emphasizing the sacred and dignified nature of man in a remarkably distinctive manner.

     Psalm 139 includes a beautiful passage describing the unborn child being known to God.  This reinforces the power and inherent value associated with human life, while also exposing a tender side of the Renaissance family.  Notice the gentleness conveyed within the following passage. 

Doe thou thy best O Secret night, / In sable vaile to cover mee: / Thy sable vaile shall vainelie faile / with daie unmask my night shallbe, / For night is daie, and darkness light / O Father of all lightes to thee:

Each inmost piece in mee is thyne, / while yet I in my mother dwelt: / All that mee clad / from thee I had / thou in my frame haste straungelie dealt, / Needes in my praise, thy works must shyne, so inly them my thoughts have felt. 

Thou, how my backe was beamewise laide. / and raftering of my ribbs doest knowe: / know’st everie pointe / of bone and jointe / how to this whole theis partes did growe / In brave imbrordrie faire array’d / though wrought in shop both darke and lowe. 

Naie fashionles one form I tooke, / thy all, and all more behoulding eye / My shapeless shape / could not escape / all theis with times appointed by / Ere one had being, in the booke / of thy foresight enrowld did lie.  (Sidney, 177-178)

Comparing this passage with its counterpart in the King James version, one is struck by the more personal, tender, and rich language selected by Mary Sidney.  For purposes of comparison, The King James passage follows (Psalms 139:12-16).

Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee. / For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. / I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.  / My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.  / Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.  (Psalms, KJV)

Mary Sidney’s passage again arguably conveys a deeper and more personal sense of connection and immediacy.  Her translation invests more language into painstakingly describing the unborn child who is thoroughly and intimately known by God.  She describes the unborn baby’s growth in terms of building a structure.  Using phrases such as “beamwise laide” and “raftering of my ribs,” she creates a stronger connection with her audience, as well as emphasizing the dignity and fathomless value of that unborn child.  (Sidney, 177)

     Through careful comparison and contrast between Mary Sidney’s eloquent and moving translation of the Psalms with the King James version, the reader is able to more clearly see the unique words and language selected by Mary Sidney.  The profound contribution of language by this Protestant poet does more than further establish her role as Britain’s first woman poet, she has betrayed personal sentiments and beliefs in her words, which can shed further light on the “hidden transcript” of the Renaissance period with regards to the expressed dignity of life--especially the innocent life of an unborn child.  These insights run counter to the assumptions of many concerning the Medieval and Renaissance periods.  While both Psalms 139 and 140 provide complimentary pictures concerning the dignity of ordinary and innocent life, it is Mary Sidney’s particularly rich translation of Psalm 139 that so engages the reader to reconsider those stereotypes and assumptions concerning those who came before us. 

Sources

Mahoney, Kevin D. "Latin Search Results For: Eripe." Latin 

     Definitions For: Eripe (Latin Search) - Latin Dictionary and  

     Grammar Resources - Latdict. Latin Dictionary Online Translation

      LEXILOGOS, n.d. Web. 15 Nov. 2016.

Psalms. The Bible, Old and New Testaments, King James Version.

     N.p.: Project Gutenberg EBook of The King James Bible James,

      King, 2011.

Whitney, Isabella, Mary Sidney Herbert Pembroke, Aemilia Lanyer,

and Danielle Clarke. Isabella Whitney, Mary Sidney, and Aemelia Lanyer: Renaissance Women Poets. London: Penguin, 2000. Print.