What's up, people?
I was enjoying a Christmas Eve dinner with my mom's family, when several of my relatives let me know that they enjoyed reading my blog.
This was nice to hear, though a bit jarring, since as far as I was able to tell, the only people who ever read my blog were my brother and a fellow named "Anonymous."
Now, if there were only two people reading these entries, that would be fine with me, since I mainly use this blog as a place to talk to myself and sort out my thoughts. If someone else reads it and enjoys it or is provoked to thought, so much the better.
It's a little disheartening, though, to find out that people have been reading it but have not been moved to the point of giving any sort of electronic feedback. If anyone is reading this, then the opportunity exists to enter into a dialogue of sorts with the reader, and it saddens me somewhat to learn that there have been several such opportunities lost over the last year.
I have read other blogs where someone has received 234 responses to an entry that consists entirely of the words, "The Lakers suck!" I do not expect that all of my entries will be worthy of such an effluence of support or derision, but I do harbor some small hope for the occassional "heck yeah!" or "You suck!" or even "V1@gra with no pr3scr1pti0N!"
So, if you find what you're reading compelling, entertaining, or non-boring enough to actually come back to and read more than once, please let me know what you think or at least just say "hi" so I know who's reading. It would be nice to know that my ranting is not such an isolating exercise as I have imagined it to be thus far.
- "When I touch you... I think about myself..."
Monday, December 26, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
On the definition of Clemency
So, Arnold denied Tookie, and he will most likely be dead this time tomorrow.
The hullabaloo surrounding the impending execution has raised some interesting lines of thought in my own mind. Let me start by saying that although Tookie continues to protest his own innocence, he is being treated as if he is guilty, so I will forward my arguments as if he actually is guilty of these crimes, though I know there exists the possibility that he is not.
First off, I'm oppossed to the death penalty, period. I think my attitude is summed up best by Karl Malden as a priest during the first season of "The West Wing," when he paraphrases Romans 12:19 for the President ("'Vengeance is mine,' thus sayeth the Lord") and then interprets it into the more colloquial "only God gets to kill people."
A less straightforward version of a similar argument is found in The Lord of the Rings (in the movies, Gandalf tells it to Frodo in the Mines of Moria, in the book, he tells him at his house, but it's the same conversation). Frodo finds out what a danger and force for evil Gollum has been, and says that "It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance." Gandalf replies, "Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment." We must never forget that what we call "justice" is only part of what real justice is, and the far poorer part, at that. Real justice would restore to life those who were unjustly slain. That is justice that would lead to thanksgiving, joy, and celebration and a fullness of life that might do something to curtail the hardness of heart and poisoning of the soul that is the unavoidable effect on the executioner, no matter how justly the executed may deserve death. As it is, the best we can do in our pursuit of justice is to sow the seed of destruction a little bit wider, and do nothing to restore life tragically cut short.
I didn't always hold this view. I used to be an adamant supporter of the death penalty, and I understand the arguments for it, and I even believe that it is a subject upon which reasonable Christians can differ legitimately. There is a lot of biblical precedent for it (even though it's pretty much exclusive to the Old Testament which offers a whole host of offenses punishable by death that we would be appalled to see carried out anywhere in the world today), and there's even a philosophically sound (if inherently unprovable) argument that it results in less deaths as a deterrent to crime. No less a Christian philosopher than C.S. Lewis makes a compelling case for the legitimacy of the death penalty, and I do not question his credentials as a faithful man of God whom I admire greatly and count among my chief influences when it comes to matters of theology. I could have endless arguments over these points (and would love to have them with anyone who's interested, just e-mail me! I just don't want to try and address every argument in one blog posting), but my basic arguments will inevitably return to those stated above (just a warning).
Anyway, back to Tookie. I found it interesting that most of the arguments for clemency were based on a picture of him as having been "redeemed" by the life he's led since being convicted. He's renounced his former lifestyle as a big-time gang leader and written several children's books which dissuade young people from the gang lifestyle. My reaction to this has undergone some development. At first, I found the arguments compelling. But then, I started to think about it, and I found some holes in the argument. First of all, I myself do not endorse the gang lifestyle, and in my profession as a high school teacher I urge young people strenuously against it. I haven't written any children's books, but that has more to do with the level of talent that I have. Surely the argument is not for Tookie to be granted clemency because of his talent as a writer.
So, does the attitude I hold and the action I take to promote it make me an extraordinary human being? Does it make me so remarkable that the guilt I would incur from a crime as heinous of murder should be in some measure balanced by it? I don't think so. In fact, I think that merely not holding these views or doing what little I can to act against them would be placed on the opposite side of the scales, and I am in fact just doing the minimum expected of a decent human being, not an extraordinary philanthropist.
"Well," you say, "the thing is that Tookie is able to affect so many more people with his message because of who he is and where he's coming from, and so he's actually able to do more good than you by the stand he's taking and the word he's putting out." Hmm, it seems that the argument is that Tookie's past full of violence and murder is actually being counted as a positive assett on the scales of justice. I've gotta say, I've got a problem with that.
If the only argument that will save Tookie is that he doesn't deserve to die, then I'm afraid that there are a lot of people that will fall victim to the death penalty because they do deserve to die, and there will be no argument to be made for them.
In recent years (since the Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in 1976), cases made for clemency at state and federal levels have focused on finding some flaw in the way that the case was prosecuted. "Clemency" has been asked for to prevent a miscarriage of justice.
But if there has been a miscarriage of justice, then staying an execution isn't "clemency" at all! It's actually justice. The governor or President aren't given the authority to give every death penalty case a final once-over to check for mistakes; this isn't about quality control. They are given the power to grant clemency: that is, they are allowed to intervene in cases where justice as defined by our legal system actually does result in a conviction without errors or appealable problems with the prosecution of the case. "Clemency" is defined as "disposition to be merciful and especially to moderate the severity of punishment due ." Clemency is about mercy, but we've turned it into a last chance at justice. By definition, the punishment addressed by clemency is "punishment due." It's appropriate and proper to exact such punishment, and clemency knowingly acts against that.
So what do I think? I think Tookie is probably guilty, and I think that no amount of realizing he is wrong "makes up" for his crimes. Even if he was not guilty of the specific crimes he was convicted of, his life as a co-founder of the Crips has introduced into our world a degree of vilolence and death that he surely bears a great deal of responsibility and guilt for. Does he deserve to die? Probably. Should he be killed? No. Not because he's such a great guy now, but because "only God gets to kill people." It's possible (however unlikely) that if released he would kill again, so don't release him. I think that as a Christian, I cannot wish for or enact any human being's death, because I belong to Christ and have been called to follow his teaching and example in all things. If the parable of the unforgiving servant isn't clear enough, we see his own reaction toward those who put him to death unjustly: he petitions his father the judge for clemency on behalf of his own murderers. It is clear that we are all under sentence of death, and our only hope is the clemency of our God. Shall we who have been forgiven so much turn around and demand the blood of fellow sinners... shall we imperil our own forgiveness by hardening our own hearts?
- "My father and my brother were killed by guns. They were on the right side but that didn't help them any when the shooting started. My brother was nineteen. I watched him die. That's when I became a Quaker. I don't care who's right or who's wrong. There's got to be some better way for people to live."
The hullabaloo surrounding the impending execution has raised some interesting lines of thought in my own mind. Let me start by saying that although Tookie continues to protest his own innocence, he is being treated as if he is guilty, so I will forward my arguments as if he actually is guilty of these crimes, though I know there exists the possibility that he is not.
First off, I'm oppossed to the death penalty, period. I think my attitude is summed up best by Karl Malden as a priest during the first season of "The West Wing," when he paraphrases Romans 12:19 for the President ("'Vengeance is mine,' thus sayeth the Lord") and then interprets it into the more colloquial "only God gets to kill people."
A less straightforward version of a similar argument is found in The Lord of the Rings (in the movies, Gandalf tells it to Frodo in the Mines of Moria, in the book, he tells him at his house, but it's the same conversation). Frodo finds out what a danger and force for evil Gollum has been, and says that "It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance." Gandalf replies, "Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment." We must never forget that what we call "justice" is only part of what real justice is, and the far poorer part, at that. Real justice would restore to life those who were unjustly slain. That is justice that would lead to thanksgiving, joy, and celebration and a fullness of life that might do something to curtail the hardness of heart and poisoning of the soul that is the unavoidable effect on the executioner, no matter how justly the executed may deserve death. As it is, the best we can do in our pursuit of justice is to sow the seed of destruction a little bit wider, and do nothing to restore life tragically cut short.
I didn't always hold this view. I used to be an adamant supporter of the death penalty, and I understand the arguments for it, and I even believe that it is a subject upon which reasonable Christians can differ legitimately. There is a lot of biblical precedent for it (even though it's pretty much exclusive to the Old Testament which offers a whole host of offenses punishable by death that we would be appalled to see carried out anywhere in the world today), and there's even a philosophically sound (if inherently unprovable) argument that it results in less deaths as a deterrent to crime. No less a Christian philosopher than C.S. Lewis makes a compelling case for the legitimacy of the death penalty, and I do not question his credentials as a faithful man of God whom I admire greatly and count among my chief influences when it comes to matters of theology. I could have endless arguments over these points (and would love to have them with anyone who's interested, just e-mail me! I just don't want to try and address every argument in one blog posting), but my basic arguments will inevitably return to those stated above (just a warning).
Anyway, back to Tookie. I found it interesting that most of the arguments for clemency were based on a picture of him as having been "redeemed" by the life he's led since being convicted. He's renounced his former lifestyle as a big-time gang leader and written several children's books which dissuade young people from the gang lifestyle. My reaction to this has undergone some development. At first, I found the arguments compelling. But then, I started to think about it, and I found some holes in the argument. First of all, I myself do not endorse the gang lifestyle, and in my profession as a high school teacher I urge young people strenuously against it. I haven't written any children's books, but that has more to do with the level of talent that I have. Surely the argument is not for Tookie to be granted clemency because of his talent as a writer.
So, does the attitude I hold and the action I take to promote it make me an extraordinary human being? Does it make me so remarkable that the guilt I would incur from a crime as heinous of murder should be in some measure balanced by it? I don't think so. In fact, I think that merely not holding these views or doing what little I can to act against them would be placed on the opposite side of the scales, and I am in fact just doing the minimum expected of a decent human being, not an extraordinary philanthropist.
"Well," you say, "the thing is that Tookie is able to affect so many more people with his message because of who he is and where he's coming from, and so he's actually able to do more good than you by the stand he's taking and the word he's putting out." Hmm, it seems that the argument is that Tookie's past full of violence and murder is actually being counted as a positive assett on the scales of justice. I've gotta say, I've got a problem with that.
If the only argument that will save Tookie is that he doesn't deserve to die, then I'm afraid that there are a lot of people that will fall victim to the death penalty because they do deserve to die, and there will be no argument to be made for them.
In recent years (since the Supreme Court reinstated the death penalty in 1976), cases made for clemency at state and federal levels have focused on finding some flaw in the way that the case was prosecuted. "Clemency" has been asked for to prevent a miscarriage of justice.
But if there has been a miscarriage of justice, then staying an execution isn't "clemency" at all! It's actually justice. The governor or President aren't given the authority to give every death penalty case a final once-over to check for mistakes; this isn't about quality control. They are given the power to grant clemency: that is, they are allowed to intervene in cases where justice as defined by our legal system actually does result in a conviction without errors or appealable problems with the prosecution of the case. "Clemency" is defined as "disposition to be merciful and especially to moderate the severity of punishment due ." Clemency is about mercy, but we've turned it into a last chance at justice. By definition, the punishment addressed by clemency is "punishment due." It's appropriate and proper to exact such punishment, and clemency knowingly acts against that.
So what do I think? I think Tookie is probably guilty, and I think that no amount of realizing he is wrong "makes up" for his crimes. Even if he was not guilty of the specific crimes he was convicted of, his life as a co-founder of the Crips has introduced into our world a degree of vilolence and death that he surely bears a great deal of responsibility and guilt for. Does he deserve to die? Probably. Should he be killed? No. Not because he's such a great guy now, but because "only God gets to kill people." It's possible (however unlikely) that if released he would kill again, so don't release him. I think that as a Christian, I cannot wish for or enact any human being's death, because I belong to Christ and have been called to follow his teaching and example in all things. If the parable of the unforgiving servant isn't clear enough, we see his own reaction toward those who put him to death unjustly: he petitions his father the judge for clemency on behalf of his own murderers. It is clear that we are all under sentence of death, and our only hope is the clemency of our God. Shall we who have been forgiven so much turn around and demand the blood of fellow sinners... shall we imperil our own forgiveness by hardening our own hearts?
- "My father and my brother were killed by guns. They were on the right side but that didn't help them any when the shooting started. My brother was nineteen. I watched him die. That's when I became a Quaker. I don't care who's right or who's wrong. There's got to be some better way for people to live."
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