Another viewpoint: (youth justice).

I was talking recently with a musician acquaintance of mine, a person who has earned a living and modest reputation playing classical music professionally. We were talking about the potential cutbacks of music programs in schools and, somehow, got from there to youth crime and violence. My acquaintance surprised me with the words, "I was a violent youth." When I heard the story, I asked if this person would write it down for LawNow. It goes like this:

"I was a street kid, before that phrase was invented. I came from one of those `Father Knows Best' middle class families, perfect on the outside where the public could see; violent and abusive once the drapes were closed. My escape was music class and the school orchestra where I learned to play violin and where I spent every minute possible.

"But music wasn't enough. I ran away from home to Vancouver's east side. I was sleeping in any building with an open door; shoplifting for food--having already pawned my violin; drinking heavily by sixteen; picking up dates and, whenever possible, pickpocketing their wallets rather than prostituting. Then three things happened: I tried to strangle a street `friend' and was stunned by realizing how close I had come to killing someone; I was picked up by the cops for prostitution but managed to talk and look innocent enough that they let me go that night with a warning; a few days later, I got a letter at general delivery from my violin teacher, who I'd kept a loose connection with, asking if I was still practising.

"I called my teacher collect and, with some minimal explaining, asked for help. It came in the form of a bus ticket to my home town, help finding a job and a room in a boarding house, free violin lessons, and the promise of a place in a small local orchestra if I progressed as the teacher thought I would.

"I had no instant reformation. I'm middle-aged and mid-career now, and I still fight every day to avoid the demons of violence, alcohol, and shame. But despite all that, I have managed to be a very productive (and tax-paying) contributor to society for the past twenty-plus years.

"If I'd been arrested and put in custody for any of the many crimes I committed in that 14-20 year old period, I know very well that the violent and addictive sides of my personality would have taken me on a downward spiral into long-term criminality. But through blind luck, I was let go the one time I was caught."

"Instead, two things saved me (not to mention society): one was the caring of a teacher who acted on a belief in my value as a human being, no matter what trouble I'd gotten into; the other was the promise of that orchestra place. It was not, strictly, my talent that helped; that was only a small part of bigger, much uglier human package at the time. It was the promise of belonging, of having a stake in a group I respected. It was the realization that if I went back to crime, I had something important to lose."

I have quoted this individual's story at length because, at a time when Justice Minister Anne McLellan is re-introducing the Youth Criminal Justice Act (see School's In), and the Canadian Alliance is calling for even tougher responses to youth crime, I think this story has a valuable lesson.

I have no question that we MUST do something about youth crime. The financial cost of crime, plus the cost of more judges, more police, and more custodial facilities would almost be enough to make this a priority. But the costs involved for the victims of crime and the costs of losing valuable young people to lives of criminality are devastating. The question, here, is not what will work with a majority of young offenders. We have decades of research available.

Filing cabinets full of studies show that programs with cognitive behavioural family and individual counselling, structured one-to-one programs with active helpers, specialized academic and skill training are effective in reducing recidivism (Review of the Profile, Classification and Treatment Literature with Young Offenders: A Social Psychological Approach, 1992). Years of pilot projects with sentencing circles and community justice committees that work at re-integrating both victim and offender into a safe and inclusive community network have had much success.

My question is why wait until a child has moved into committing crimes to do something? The studies that show that even one dollar spent by society on a good pre-school saves seven dollars later in welfare and justice services are already well-known; and pre-school is only one small way of providing an inclusive environment for a child. Surely, we should provide that and more. Children must have the attentive care of stable responsible adults, and they must have a stake in our society. It's not good enough to tell them "when you grow up, you can be, have, or do ..." Children from the earliest ages must feel a deep sense of belonging, of being loved, of being included--a sense so valuable they will not risk losing it. If the families aren't able to give this, then communities must. And we must not assume that only children who are talented musicians or athletes will respond to this societal care and inclusion. Every child has the capacity to be talented at being a loving human being. Surely, as a humane society, we can enshrine in our laws and social structures ways to nurture that talent from the day they are born.