When you’re strange
From Lust for Justice, Paulette Frankl’s biography of J. Tony Serra:
“The most vital human force on the face of the Earth,” he says, “is the true believer. It’s naive. It’s simple. It’s non-intellectual. It’s a wholehearted commitment to a cause. It’s what everyone’s afraid of. That’s what I bring into the courtroom.”
Serra’s insistence on swimming against the current on occasion, however, doesn’t translate outside the courtroom, even right outside the door. Considering himself the last of a dying breed, a sociological throwback, often results in estrangement. Wherever he goes, he admits, he feels estranged.
“Existentialism 101,” he says. “Disgorge yourself of everything, and redefine yourself, and ultimately the first level you reach is estrangement. The first level you feel is your alienation. I’ve never overcome that.”
. . .
Serra believes that the old-fashioned, outspoken, maverick, radical lawyer, the idealist who championed the rights of people, who fought nobly and selflessly for the balance of power in this country, has been crushed. The judiciary has squashed this kind of lawyer in every way. . .
When he looks around, he doesn’t see too many young lawyers who aspire to follow in his radical footsteps, who want to be targeted as the voice of opposition. . . .
The radical lawyer is a gadfly. He’s the canary in the coal mine; he sacrifices himself to alert others. He’s the Paul Revere who, whether he shows up with one lantern or two, is warning about the imminent arrival of the shock troops. Serra believes the end of America as a free society is marked by the end of the old-fashioned lawyer, whose rhetoric has opposed government, authority, and tyranny since the days of Patrick Henry. “Give liberty!” That voice against the oppressors is being undermined and strangled today.
I don’t share Serra’s accomplishments, but I proudly share his estrangement.
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