I was recently invited to an event discussing the death penalty, with the same title as this post. There would be a screening of a film, a panel discussion, and some free form discussion on the topic. I was urged strongly to come by my friend Jeff, who was moderating the event.
This isn't a topic I've thought much about until recently. As you may have read, my recent post entitled A New Command I Give You discussed the implications of the death penalty and revenge against criminals as a whole. I also recounted my experience as a juror in this post, which is my still my most influencing experience with the justice system.
Going into the event, I considered myself quite clearly against the death penalty for no other reason than I thought it wrong. I vaguely recognized that the death penalty put blood on our hands ('our' being the jurors, the judge and attorneys, the legislature, and the citizens of the state whom these people all represent), and I didn't like this. I knew that I supported forgiveness over retribution (in principal, at least, if not in practice). But these ideas were unformed and generic.
I was intrigued to hear these ideas fleshed out, as well as new ideas that hadn't come to me before this event.
1. The death penalty is expensive
The standard statistic is that a death row inmate costs 3 times what a life prisoner does. The statistics are slightly more significant in Texas, although each state varies.
Does this convict me to oppose the death penalty? Not really, but it's an important issue to discuss when considering a change in law.
2. The death penalty doesn't work
To punish a killer by killing is irrational. To teach the community that killing is wrong by killing the killer is backwards. There may be an argument that the death penalty keeps the killer from killing again, but life in prison accomplishes the same goal without the destruction.
This is a little more convincing. I believe punishment should have a heart of discipline, which produces change instead of resentment. We can't help a person overcome their shortcomings to reach a better life if we just kill them off. I would much rather see them learn, grow, be healed, and mature during the course of their life.
3. Family of victims who are avenged by the death penalty rarely move on
This is a soft statistic, but it's demonstrated in the film screened at the event. Victims (or families of victims) deserve to move on from their tragedy. If they don't move on, they become trapped in a life of resentment and bitterness, tainting the entire world around them through the lense of their tragedy. Those who forgive the criminal to the point where they don't seek revenge seem to move on to a more productive, happy life much easier than those who seek revenge through the death penalty.
Now we're getting somewhere. I know most people don't care much about the criminal, since "he made his choice," but now we're talking about the benefit of the victims. There's still some trouble with this argument, though, since many people don't put much stock in intangible ideas like forgiving and "moving on." But I think common sense supports the far and wide benefit of a joyful life over a resentful one.
4. An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind
A point was raised by a panelist about the original "eye-for-an-eye" laws found in the early chapters of the Bible. He said that this principal isn't in line with our gut instincts. That our gut instincts would say "he took my eye, so I'll take both of his eyes, steal his wife, and burn his house down." So to tell an early culture that you should just take what they took from you was revolutionary! It demonstrated control and consideration, rather than raw vengeance. Today, we even consider "eye-for-an-eye" to be barbaric because of how we've learned the principal of control and consideration in our culture.
This blows me away, partly because I learned something new about one of the oldest 'rules' in the world. But mostly, it starts to put a voice to what I believe. We may think we've moved miles past the olden days of "eye-for-an-eye," but the death penalty shows that our animalistic tendencies still push us toward flagrant revenge. Once we recognize this, we can see the death penalty for what it is: murder by the state. Whether just or unjust, it is, most basically, revenge for what they did to us.
5. We are all human, and we are all broken
This sums up the entire issue for me. It also cuts to the heart of racism, homophobia, nationalism, and many other major issues in our world. When we see people as people, it becomes much harder to mistreat them.
But that's just it. We don't see all people as people. Black people have been identified as sub-human, undeserving of the rights white people claim. Foreigners have been dubbed barbarians, their lifestyle fit to be destroyed. Gay people have been called mentally unbalanced, making it ok to treat their identity like a disease that should be eradicated through drugs. And people who have made mistakes different from our own have been called criminals, allowing us to treat them as scum rather than trying to help them work through their wounds that took them so far off track in the first place.
I'll leave your conclusions to you, but my decision is to oppose the death penalty. I would be interested to hear any opposing arguments if you would like to share them.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
A New Command I Give You
A week ago today, a tragedy occurred at the hands of two individuals. At least 3 lives were ended by their choices, and hundreds were injured. For 2 days, US intelligence investigated the crime while the country honored the dead and injured. For 2 days, law enforcement hunted the suspects while the country did their best to help. And for the 3 days since the capture of the final suspect, the country has become inundated with a resurgence of verbal violence.
I can understand the reaction. We, as a country, were attacked and hurt. Families have been forever changed as a result of the attack. People want retribution. They want the criminals to get what they deserve. They want justice.
Normally, justice would be served in a courtroom. Opposing groups of lawyers would present evidence and lack thereof. A judge would preside to ensure the laws were upheld, that neither side was treated unfairly. A jury of 12 average Americans would hear the evidence, and they would finally be asked to decide the accused person's fate. They would assign the proper punishment based on the evidence, whether that be fines, community service, jail time, or death.
What surprised me first after Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was captured was the energy of the crowds in Boston. While the suspect in the procession of emergency vehicles back to the police station, the city emerged after days of lockdown to give each one a hero's welcome. But the energy of the crowd was something more than excitement. It seemed vindictive.
The city wasn't just proud of law enforcement for "catching the bad guy," they were ready to assign punishment. Parts of the crowd looked like they came out to catch a glimpse of the bad guy so they could do their worst to him.
The next morning, I read that Dzhokhar hadn't been Mirandized. This was done initially, but the formal decision would take time. The news media said the decision may hold. The suspect may not be allowed an attorney, and he may not be allowed due process at all. I read that the 19 year old boy who moved to the US at the age of 8 might be tried as a foreign terrorist.
From this point forward, what surprised me most were the jeers. Social media was full of angry, violent, and vengeful statements about what Dzhokhar deserved. He should be tossed in a pit and left to die. He should rot in prison. He deserves the death penalty.
Finally, I realized why this all sounded so wrong. I knew Dzhokhar had a major part in causing the tragedy in Boston. I knew he would be punished in a method and severity to be determined by a court. Somehow, I knew that was enough. Somehow, I knew the jeers of society weren't necessary.
I thought back to last April, when I sat on the jury for a murder trial.
The crime took place between old friends, practically brothers. The victim had started to poke fun at the defendant after the defendant's girlfriend had done the same. The defendant had a medical condition, and the joking came at the expense of his condition. He tried to get his friends to stop, but they wouldn't. He walked away, but the jokes continued. He told his friend to leave, but again poking fun at his condition, the victim asked "What are you gonna do? Make me?" The defendant picked up a kitchen knife in threat, and his friend was killed when he lunged to take the knife from the defendant.
For 4 days, I sat with 11 other jurors unable to talk about the case. We heard statements about the incident, statements from both mothers, and the police involved. We had to look at autopsy pictures and hear a statement from the pathologist who detailed his wounds. We knew full well the impact of this man's actions.
But when it came to the fifth day, we agreed on something else: this man had lived for 6 years knowing that his oldest friend was killed by a knife that he held in his hand.
We couldn't call it murder, because we don't think he ever intended to cause harm, but maybe he did. So, wWe assigned a verdict of manslaughter, and shortly after gave the man the minimum 5 year prison sentence.
We hesitated to make this decision, because we didn't want the victim's mother to feel justice wasn't served. We hesitated, because society would clearly say that he deserved worse for ending a human life. What got us past our hesitation was the thought of mercy.
Suddenly, in the midst of our discussion, we knew that we held a huge gift in our hands. While we had the power to assign life in prison, we also held the power to show mercy. We could look this man in the eye, all understanding what had come to pass, and we could give him a second chance. We could give him less than he deserved.
Today, I see Dzhokhar Tsarnaev sitting in the defendant's seat. I see a boy of 19 who did something awful. I see someone who couldn't have been in his right mind, whether brainwashed or mentally ill. I see someone with so many years ahead of him that he could learn to love. I see someone who needs a second chance.
We could join in with the rest of the country to shout "crucify!" to the courts. We could join in with jeers of our own, urging for the most severe punishment the law allows and more. We could strive toward an eye-for-an-eye punishment.
Or we could choose to love our enemies.
Always moving forward,
Tyler
I can understand the reaction. We, as a country, were attacked and hurt. Families have been forever changed as a result of the attack. People want retribution. They want the criminals to get what they deserve. They want justice.
Normally, justice would be served in a courtroom. Opposing groups of lawyers would present evidence and lack thereof. A judge would preside to ensure the laws were upheld, that neither side was treated unfairly. A jury of 12 average Americans would hear the evidence, and they would finally be asked to decide the accused person's fate. They would assign the proper punishment based on the evidence, whether that be fines, community service, jail time, or death.
What surprised me first after Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was captured was the energy of the crowds in Boston. While the suspect in the procession of emergency vehicles back to the police station, the city emerged after days of lockdown to give each one a hero's welcome. But the energy of the crowd was something more than excitement. It seemed vindictive.
The city wasn't just proud of law enforcement for "catching the bad guy," they were ready to assign punishment. Parts of the crowd looked like they came out to catch a glimpse of the bad guy so they could do their worst to him.
The next morning, I read that Dzhokhar hadn't been Mirandized. This was done initially, but the formal decision would take time. The news media said the decision may hold. The suspect may not be allowed an attorney, and he may not be allowed due process at all. I read that the 19 year old boy who moved to the US at the age of 8 might be tried as a foreign terrorist.
From this point forward, what surprised me most were the jeers. Social media was full of angry, violent, and vengeful statements about what Dzhokhar deserved. He should be tossed in a pit and left to die. He should rot in prison. He deserves the death penalty.
Finally, I realized why this all sounded so wrong. I knew Dzhokhar had a major part in causing the tragedy in Boston. I knew he would be punished in a method and severity to be determined by a court. Somehow, I knew that was enough. Somehow, I knew the jeers of society weren't necessary.
I thought back to last April, when I sat on the jury for a murder trial.
The crime took place between old friends, practically brothers. The victim had started to poke fun at the defendant after the defendant's girlfriend had done the same. The defendant had a medical condition, and the joking came at the expense of his condition. He tried to get his friends to stop, but they wouldn't. He walked away, but the jokes continued. He told his friend to leave, but again poking fun at his condition, the victim asked "What are you gonna do? Make me?" The defendant picked up a kitchen knife in threat, and his friend was killed when he lunged to take the knife from the defendant.
For 4 days, I sat with 11 other jurors unable to talk about the case. We heard statements about the incident, statements from both mothers, and the police involved. We had to look at autopsy pictures and hear a statement from the pathologist who detailed his wounds. We knew full well the impact of this man's actions.
But when it came to the fifth day, we agreed on something else: this man had lived for 6 years knowing that his oldest friend was killed by a knife that he held in his hand.
We couldn't call it murder, because we don't think he ever intended to cause harm, but maybe he did. So, wWe assigned a verdict of manslaughter, and shortly after gave the man the minimum 5 year prison sentence.
We hesitated to make this decision, because we didn't want the victim's mother to feel justice wasn't served. We hesitated, because society would clearly say that he deserved worse for ending a human life. What got us past our hesitation was the thought of mercy.
Suddenly, in the midst of our discussion, we knew that we held a huge gift in our hands. While we had the power to assign life in prison, we also held the power to show mercy. We could look this man in the eye, all understanding what had come to pass, and we could give him a second chance. We could give him less than he deserved.
Today, I see Dzhokhar Tsarnaev sitting in the defendant's seat. I see a boy of 19 who did something awful. I see someone who couldn't have been in his right mind, whether brainwashed or mentally ill. I see someone with so many years ahead of him that he could learn to love. I see someone who needs a second chance.
We could join in with the rest of the country to shout "crucify!" to the courts. We could join in with jeers of our own, urging for the most severe punishment the law allows and more. We could strive toward an eye-for-an-eye punishment.
Or we could choose to love our enemies.
"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples." (John 13:34-35, NIV)
"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well." (Matthew 5:38-40, NIV)
"You’re familiar with the old written law, 'Love your friend,' and its unwritten companion, 'Hate your enemy.' I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst." (Matthew 5:43, MSG)
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Monday, April 15, 2013
Our Hearts Go Out to Boston
As the news came in, I was in shock.
I watched a web feed of the race in the morning, pulling for all of my favorite runners, and staring in amazement at the mile splits the athletes pulled off, mile after mile. I watched my facebook feed fill up with words of praise for the winners, and encouragement for friends who were still running the course.
This can't be happening.
I talked with coworkers about the give and take as a handfull of elite runners moved in and out of the lead. I shook my head thinking of the training plans. Two-a-day runs. 100 mile weeks. 8-mile speed work sessions at a pace I can't even hold for 1 mile.
Who would do such a thing?
I considered the thousands of runners who trained for years just to qualify for this race. People like me, who might not possess any unusual amount of athletic ability, yet trained and trained to make it under their 3:30, 3:20, or 3:10 qualifying time. The people who finally reached their goal of running the Boston Marathon.
How many were injured?
As I watched the 117th running of the most prestigious marathon in the country, I thought of its history. The race was run before the marathon became a 26.2 mile race. The race was run for 75 years before women started to compete in these events, now taking up over 40% of the field.
How many were killed?
I remembered the fable of Heartbreak Hill. It was 1936 when defending champion, Johnny Kelley, passed Ellison Brown for the lead on the last of the 4 Newton Hills, just past mile 20. When passing, Johnny gave his competitor a consoling pat on the shoulder, planning for a repeat victory. But Brown wasn't fading, he was just holding back. Brown came back for the win, breaking Johnny's heart.
Is it over yet?
On days like today, I'm always torn between heartbreak, fear, and the desire to make it all go away. Today, I choose to do something about it.
I'm calling all runners to join with me in support of the victims at the Boston Marathon. Starting at 9PM tonight (EDT), just 12 hours after the final starting gun of the marathon, I'm asking runners around the world to join me in a 24 hour run. You don't have to run on your own, because we're doing this together. I'm asking each runner to take as little as 15 minutes to run in support of today's victims, and for the next 24 hours, the roads, trails, and treadmills will not be empty.
For the next 24 hours, we will pay homage to their sport. We will send up silent prayers for the injured and deceased. We will join with the victims, our fellow athletes, to show the world that runners remain strongly together in the midst of tragedy.
To join the run, click here. For those unable to run, or those who just want to do more, I'm looking for a charity that will directly benefit the victims of today's tragedy. Contact me if you find a charity that we can work with. Until then, please direct people to this blog or my facebook page for updates.
Always moving foward,
Tyler
I watched a web feed of the race in the morning, pulling for all of my favorite runners, and staring in amazement at the mile splits the athletes pulled off, mile after mile. I watched my facebook feed fill up with words of praise for the winners, and encouragement for friends who were still running the course.
This can't be happening.
I talked with coworkers about the give and take as a handfull of elite runners moved in and out of the lead. I shook my head thinking of the training plans. Two-a-day runs. 100 mile weeks. 8-mile speed work sessions at a pace I can't even hold for 1 mile.
Who would do such a thing?
I considered the thousands of runners who trained for years just to qualify for this race. People like me, who might not possess any unusual amount of athletic ability, yet trained and trained to make it under their 3:30, 3:20, or 3:10 qualifying time. The people who finally reached their goal of running the Boston Marathon.
How many were injured?
As I watched the 117th running of the most prestigious marathon in the country, I thought of its history. The race was run before the marathon became a 26.2 mile race. The race was run for 75 years before women started to compete in these events, now taking up over 40% of the field.
How many were killed?
I remembered the fable of Heartbreak Hill. It was 1936 when defending champion, Johnny Kelley, passed Ellison Brown for the lead on the last of the 4 Newton Hills, just past mile 20. When passing, Johnny gave his competitor a consoling pat on the shoulder, planning for a repeat victory. But Brown wasn't fading, he was just holding back. Brown came back for the win, breaking Johnny's heart.
Is it over yet?
On days like today, I'm always torn between heartbreak, fear, and the desire to make it all go away. Today, I choose to do something about it.
I'm calling all runners to join with me in support of the victims at the Boston Marathon. Starting at 9PM tonight (EDT), just 12 hours after the final starting gun of the marathon, I'm asking runners around the world to join me in a 24 hour run. You don't have to run on your own, because we're doing this together. I'm asking each runner to take as little as 15 minutes to run in support of today's victims, and for the next 24 hours, the roads, trails, and treadmills will not be empty.
For the next 24 hours, we will pay homage to their sport. We will send up silent prayers for the injured and deceased. We will join with the victims, our fellow athletes, to show the world that runners remain strongly together in the midst of tragedy.
To join the run, click here. For those unable to run, or those who just want to do more, I'm looking for a charity that will directly benefit the victims of today's tragedy. Contact me if you find a charity that we can work with. Until then, please direct people to this blog or my facebook page for updates.
Always moving foward,
Tyler
Monday, December 31, 2012
Into a New Year
When I think of this holiday, I think about a late night party with a bunch of cheap, shiny bling and something bubbly to drink. When I was young, there was usually a bottle of sparkling grape juice around, or something equally as child-appropriate and weird. It was always something you don't drink any other day of the year. Still is actually, since not many people I know pop open a champagne bottle on any normal day. There's always a bunch of upbeat music, excited announcers, and a big, shiny ball of lights that slowly drops over New York City. Why a shiny ball of lights? I have no idea.
Wikipedia says a Time Ball (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_ball) was a ball lit or painted a noticeable color that was dropped at a specific time each day. It would notify ships when that time was reached so they could set their clocks. Since the advent of radio communications, this is obviously obsolete. It's said that the Times Square NYE ceremony was designed to incorporate this to symbolically start the new year. Times Square was also re-named based on the popularity of this celebration.
This begs an important question to me. If at the cusp of a new year, when we celebrate the past, put it behind us, and move on to new and better times, if our biggest symbolic gesture is the stroke of a new clock, why do we use such an archaic symbol to represent it? This is a system that was used for less than 100 years and became obsolete just 17 years after the first Times Square Ball Drop. I would even venture to guess that the "Time Ball" system was known only to the keepers of the time balls and the naval crews who used them!
Why not church bells? A beeping alarm? That annoying iPhone alarm that you hear everywhere?
As odd as this tradition is, the idea of people hanging on to meaningless traditions is nothing new to the world. Look at the Texas law books, which are filled with hundreds, even thousands laws that were never redacted, but obviously no longer apply. Or look at the religious services around the world that follow ceremony, even after the intended symbolic gesture of the ceremony is no longer culturally relevant. Even popular TV has picked up shows like Storage Wars and Hoarders, where people are shown to hold on to overwhelming amounts of useless junk just to avoid losing the past.
To understand why would require asking a much, much greater mind than mine. My simple guess is that we're scared of the unknown. Each one of us lived 366 days of experiences since the last ball drop. Some great, some awful, but they were all lived. Each one of us could write a book about what happened to us in the last year (and some have!). And whether we enjoyed them or not, whether we loved or hated those days behind us, 99% of us would fight against ever losing those experiences.
Our experiences make us who we are. Our failures build us, and our successes raise us. Even (some would say especially) the worst of our experiences build character in us that tell the world who we are and what we stand for.
But I want to challenge that today. While today is about celebrating the last 366 days, tomorrow is about the next 365. Tonight at midnight, when that archaic ball drops, I challenge myself and anyone reading to think not about the experiences of the last year, but about the person you have become since 2011. I want you to think about what that person is capable of, what good he or she can do in the world. And I want you to throw away, violently, everything that you used to be, and everything you've done. I want nothing to hold you back from making a difference in the world in 2013.
In the paraphrased words of Paul the Apostle, this one thing I ask of you; forget what is behind, and strain toward what is ahead. Press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called you in Christ Jesus.
What will you leave behind?
Who will you strive to become?
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Wikipedia says a Time Ball (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_ball) was a ball lit or painted a noticeable color that was dropped at a specific time each day. It would notify ships when that time was reached so they could set their clocks. Since the advent of radio communications, this is obviously obsolete. It's said that the Times Square NYE ceremony was designed to incorporate this to symbolically start the new year. Times Square was also re-named based on the popularity of this celebration.
This begs an important question to me. If at the cusp of a new year, when we celebrate the past, put it behind us, and move on to new and better times, if our biggest symbolic gesture is the stroke of a new clock, why do we use such an archaic symbol to represent it? This is a system that was used for less than 100 years and became obsolete just 17 years after the first Times Square Ball Drop. I would even venture to guess that the "Time Ball" system was known only to the keepers of the time balls and the naval crews who used them!
Why not church bells? A beeping alarm? That annoying iPhone alarm that you hear everywhere?
As odd as this tradition is, the idea of people hanging on to meaningless traditions is nothing new to the world. Look at the Texas law books, which are filled with hundreds, even thousands laws that were never redacted, but obviously no longer apply. Or look at the religious services around the world that follow ceremony, even after the intended symbolic gesture of the ceremony is no longer culturally relevant. Even popular TV has picked up shows like Storage Wars and Hoarders, where people are shown to hold on to overwhelming amounts of useless junk just to avoid losing the past.
To understand why would require asking a much, much greater mind than mine. My simple guess is that we're scared of the unknown. Each one of us lived 366 days of experiences since the last ball drop. Some great, some awful, but they were all lived. Each one of us could write a book about what happened to us in the last year (and some have!). And whether we enjoyed them or not, whether we loved or hated those days behind us, 99% of us would fight against ever losing those experiences.
Our experiences make us who we are. Our failures build us, and our successes raise us. Even (some would say especially) the worst of our experiences build character in us that tell the world who we are and what we stand for.
But I want to challenge that today. While today is about celebrating the last 366 days, tomorrow is about the next 365. Tonight at midnight, when that archaic ball drops, I challenge myself and anyone reading to think not about the experiences of the last year, but about the person you have become since 2011. I want you to think about what that person is capable of, what good he or she can do in the world. And I want you to throw away, violently, everything that you used to be, and everything you've done. I want nothing to hold you back from making a difference in the world in 2013.
In the paraphrased words of Paul the Apostle, this one thing I ask of you; forget what is behind, and strain toward what is ahead. Press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called you in Christ Jesus.
What will you leave behind?
Who will you strive to become?
Always moving forward,
Tyler
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)