Justice Together: Praying, Planning, and Partly (but Not Yet Entirely) Pushed Aside in Wichita

[Cross-posted to Wichita Story]

Before Christmas, I had some complimentary things to say about Wichita’s city council. Here at the end of the year, though, my thoughts are more critical—though this is really a story about an organization of citizens here in Wichita, one that has pushed and challenged the city council, with some (but not total) success.

Justice Together, an association of nearly 1500 volunteers from nearly 40 Wichita-area congregations, synagogues, and other religious bodies, made local history several months ago, when, at a major public assembly, they pressed and received commitments from various elected leaders that certain positive steps would be taken to assist the homeless population of Wichita. Their well-researched calls for 1) more free bus passes for those with mental health needs, for 2) more staffing for on-call psychiatric assistance, for 3) a sustainable budget plan for completing and operating the planned Multi-Agency Center (MAC) which aims to bring together resources for homeless individuals, and for 4) a free municipal ID program, all remain on the table. But two weeks ago a proposed set of changes to how the city deals with homelessness threatened to derail the compassionate efforts that Justice Together, along with many other municipal organizations (Wichita’s Coalition to End Homelessness deserves much credit here), had pushed for.

Fortunately, Wichita’s city council was convinced (or pressured) to bypass the worst feature of these proposed changes, and the role JT played in that effort (in over two hours of public comment before the city council on December 17, 21 of the 24 speakers opposed the proposed changes, and more than a third of those were associated with Justice Together) deserves praise. Still, the fact that the other changes which passed through the council on a 4 to 3 vote will increase the ability of law enforcement to treat homeless individuals from a criminal rather than a compassionate perspective is evidence of how much more, and perhaps how much further, the kind of activism JT represents has to go.

As was pointed out by multiple speakers (as well as a couple of members of the council from the bench), the proposed changes in Wichita’s policies were less rooted in local changes (though Wichita’s homeless population has increased, as it has in cities both large and small across the country, for dozens of often intertwined reasons) than they were in national decisions. When the U.S. Supreme Court handed down its majority decision in City of Grants Pass v. Johnson last summer, making it clear that criminalizing “public camping”—a euphemism that we all know is ridiculous (“camping” is a voluntary recreational activity, while sleeping or residing outside without shelter in public places is practically never either of those) but seem doomed to use anyway—would not be considered an unconstitutional punishment someone for their condition, but would instead be considered a nominally constitutional punishment of an action, the door to more aggressive enforcement of anti-homelessness policies was kicked wide open. Honestly, those of us Wichitans who recognize both the increased costs as well as the lack of compassion which the further criminalizing homelessness entails should probably be grateful that the city’s proposals didn’t go any further than they did.

As someone who has been associated with Justice Together since its beginning in early 2023, I received word of the prayer meeting being planned for the day of the city council meeting. Multiple faith leaders set the tone for the dozens who gathered for the meeting by emphasizing that pushing back, in whatever peaceful way we can, against adding burdens to the lives of those suffering from whatever mix of causes—poverty, trauma, mental illness, drug or alcohol addiction, or all of the above—which had left them living without permanent shelter was a shared religious demand. As I’ve written before, JT is not a radical organization; rather, it is a serious, careful, realistic group of believers, who work in the tradition of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., in 1) researching and proposing responsible plans premised upon compassion and justice, and then 2) presenting their plans before elected leaders in ways that create tension, thereby hopefully forcing action and progress. That was the plan a few weeks ago, with a summary of the changes Wichita’s government was proposing and an action plan laying out a bullet-pointed list of Justice Together’s primary concerns handed out beforehand. (The individuals in the photo above, from the Justice Together prayer meeting before the city council chambers on the morning of December 17, are, from left to right: Pastor Chad Langdon of Christ Lutheran Church; Deacon Lory Mills of St. Bartholomew’s and St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church; Justice Together Co-President Rabbi Andrew Pepperstone of Ahavath Achim Congregation; and Rev. Dr. Karen Robu of Plymouth Congregational Church.)

Topping the list of those concerns was that the city, in the wake of Grants Pass, intended to “remove a requirement that a shelter bed be available for anyone displaced by an encampment removal”—in other words, to no longer oblige law enforcement to confirm that there are beds available at public shelters before enforcing anti-“camping” rules and forcing a homeless person to move from whatever location of rest they’d found for themselves. This central issue was highlighted by Rabbi Andrew Pepperstone, the co-president of Justice Together, when he stood to speak before the city council (two other speakers, Revs. Travis Smith McKee of the Disciples of Christ and Jacob L. Poindexter of the United Church of Christ, later underscored Rabbi Pepperstone’s demand): the “removal of bed space verification” from those tasked with the often ugly task of disrupting the attempt of the homeless to find a secure corner or underpass somewhere in public space has, in his words, “no compassionate rationale that I can conceive of.” He challenged the city council to strip that policy change from the proposal, which resulted in some city leaders playing hot potato, suggesting that this odious proposal was really just a matter of police protocol. But thankfully, whomever ultimately owns this obligation, the result was a positive one. The policy changes voted on ended up preserving this restriction, thus making it at least still slightly difficult for those experiencing homelessness to be forced to move and to abandon many of their possessions like herd animals and not human beings.

Justice Together also opposed, along with other groups, expanding the number of city workers who could wield that kind of police power against the homeless, another proposed change which the city council was convinced to drop. Unfortunately, though, the other priority of JT—opposing “a change to shorten the notice to vacate period before an encampment is removed, from 72 hours to 48 hours, and in some cases, allow removal without notice”—went through. Perhaps that’s unsurprising; the city staff made it clear in their presentation to the council that there was, functionally speaking, only two elements of the proposed changes which they considered truly substantive: getting rid of the bed requirement, and allowing for the more immediate removal of homeless persons and the clean-up of their sleeping locations. Despite complaints that went far beyond the religiously motivated—there were speakers who challenged the proposed ordinances from libertarian perspectives on human rights, and conservative speakers who pointed out all the additional costs which ramping up enforcement requires—Wichita will, beginning probably in mid-January, join the host of American cities that are responding to the increase of the homeless population with even more criminalization, even if conjoining that with some additional compassion.

That additional compassion is obviously vital. Justice Together’s slogan for their (in retrospect, only partly successful) action was “Invest in a Fully Funded MAC, not Criminalization of Homelessness,” and there was much discussion of how to move forward with finding the funds necessary to keeping the plans for the MAC on track, and many supportive words from city council members for doing so. (There was an update on plans for the free municipal ID as well, which still seems to me likely the most important single non-structural action Wichita could take to assist the city’s homeless.) Ultimately, though, those who have dedicated so much time and effort to Justice Together must now consider their next steps.

Do they accept this defeat and continue to focus on pushing our elected leaders on the social justice issues which they have not foreclosed? That seems most likely; what JT’s volunteers are best at is speaking practically about policy options and researching how other cities have funded programs or dealt with changes in the legal landscape is the kind of action that appeals to their skill set best. But there is also the possibility of reconsidering what kind of, and how much, tension they can productively generate—perhaps while looking towards this year’s municipal elections, with the aim of changing one of those 4 yes votes. Becoming an interest group which actively promotes or opposes candidates would give Justice Together a very different and much more contentious vibe, yet political challenges are part of the toolkit of any successful advocacy organization, whether they’re used or not. (Sometimes, simply the knowledge that an organization could organize their forces—in this case, many hundreds of mostly middle or upper-middle class Wichitans in dozens of well-established religious congregations, the great majority of which are likely voters—can be persuasive enough.)

Justice Together has worked with and through the religious faith of thousands of Wichitans over the past 2 years to advance the conversation about social justice in our city. As a supporter, I am curious to see how its leadership will continue to try to advance our shared ideals, even as the opposition to some of what has been labored over pushes back. As in so many other ways, 2025 will be a very telling year.

The 10 Best Books I Read in 2024

Ian Angus, The War against the Commons: Dispossession and Resistance in the Making of Capitalism (2023) and Wendell Berry, The Need to Be Whole: Patriotism and the History of Prejudice (2022).

I put these two books together in my head not because they are similar, because they are not—the former is a succinct, straightforward, deeply earnest but also very dry Marxist history of the enclosure movement in Great Britain, the latter is a rambling, profoundly personal and discursive and sometime repetitive set of reflections by the author on the legacy of slavery, the devastation of the farming economy, and how American exceptionalism and predatory capitalism ties them both together. I put them together because, as I elaborated here, the excellent analysis of the former helped me find the best, most profound insights of the latter.

Fred Dallmayr, Truth and Politics: Toward a Post-Secular Community (2022)

Fred Dallmayr, a long-time professor of politics and philosophy at the University of Notre Dame who passed away this year, was never one of my teachers—directly, that is. Indirectly, he was an inspiration and, in a very small way, a friend, and on the occasion of his passing I went back and read deeper from his massive corpus. What I found, among many other wise and challenging observations, was a different way to talk about the post-liberal moment, a way that America will almost certainly not be able to make use of, to our great loss.

Grant Hardy, ed., The Annotated Book of Mormon (2023)

Grant Hardy’s decades of work on the Book of Mormon—the central holy scripture of my religious tradition—has resulted in multiple previous works of devotion and scholarship that I’ve learned much from. Last year, he finally was able to achieve something of a magnum opus: a complete critical edition of the text of the Book of Mormon itself. My appreciation of it, as both a believer and a doubter (and how much do those two go together!), is massive, to say the least.

Stanley Hauerwas and William H. Willimon, Resident Aliens (1989)

In 2023, one of the best books I read was by Stanley Hauerwas, a radical Christian thinker whose essays and ideas I’d long thought about, but whom I’d never really studied before. This year I continued with that new direction by giving Hauerwas’s probably most famous book a read, and I wasn’t disappointed. Co-written with William Willimon, when both of them were young scholars and pastors, this book lays down the fundamentals of Hauerwas’s radically Barthian, church-over-culture, Christianity-over-society, perspective, the one which later came to be called “neo-Anabaptist.” Reading this book at the same time as the 2024 elections, its constant reminders of the uselessness of trying to make Christianity “relevant” to a world of violence, competition, and exploitation, was a deeply persuasive experience, to say the least.

Charles Marohn, Escaping the Housing Trap: The Strong Towns Response to the Housing Crisis (2024)

Chuck Marohn hasn’t yet written a book that I haven’t found bursting with concepts and conclusions worth wrestling with, and his latest is probably the bursting-est yet. This is the first time Marohn has written with a co-author, and perhaps that was necessary; the Strong Towns approach to America’s housing crisis obliges him to weigh in on a huge number of historical, financial, political, and sociological issues, far beyond his earlier works which focused on the comparatively more straight-forward questions of community sustainability and transportation management. I’ve found myself in multiple arguments over this book, and it’s advice is definitely not the final word on figuring out how to both build ourselves out of, and better arrange our financing of, America’s housing problems. But his words are worth listening to all the same.

Eva Piirimäe, Herder and Enlightenment Politics (2023)

When I was in graduate school in the 1990s, I discovered the communitarian-liberalism debates of the 1980s, which in turn led me to Charles Taylor, which in turn led me to German romanticism, and in particular the philosophy and criticism of Johann Gottfried Herder, a late 18^th-century German educator, translator, and Lutheran pastor, one of the truly great—and often frustratingly changeable—intellects of the Enlightenment era. I wrote my dissertation on him, but the days when I thought I would be a true Herder scholar and intellectual historian are long past. Still, every once in a while the blessings of academia allow me to dive once more back into this area of scholarship—and for the first time in a decade, 2024 allowed me that, with the opportunity to review new book that is, in some ways, genuinely path-breaking, at least insofar as English-language scholarship on Herder is concerned. It reminded me of, and perhaps opened up, some old paths for me, and for that I’m grateful for.

George Scialabba, What Are Intellectuals Good For? (2009) and Only a Voice: Essays (2023)

Scialabba is a near-legendary critic and pundit, at least among that small group of writers, publishers, and thinkers that make up America’s tiny-but-not-quite-extinct-yet population of “public intellectuals.” A man who made his name writing sharp, both open-minded but also deeply opinionated essays on important intellectual figures of both the past and present, I’d read several of the pieces in this first collection years ago. Fortunately, the opportunity to write an essay on Scialabba gave me a chance to both re-read them, and peruse this latest collection. Everything in them is brilliant, even if you find his consistently contrary (and, I would argue, in important ways “conservative”) leftism not to your taste.

Paul B. Thompson, The Agrarian Vision: Sustainability and Environmental Ethics (2010)

Returning once again to last year, one of the best books I read in 2023 was the wonderfully dense yet still student-friendly introduction to “sustainability” as a general topic, Sustainability: What Everyone Needs to Know, which Thompson wrote with a co-author, Patricia Norris. This year I finally worked through a book of his published articles and essays--published over a period of 20 years from the late 1980s to the late 2000s--that I’ve had on my shelf for years, and I wasn’t disappointed. While much of what is included here has long since become familiar within the field, he still often surprised me with creative insights (his essay focusing on a reading of The Grapes of Wrath and the John Ford film adaptation of it particularly stands out). Overall, this book is an excellent, thoughtful review of the difficulties and opportunities which thinking seriously about agrarianism, environmentalism, and the differences between them presents.