The death sentence awarded to the four convicts in the barbaric December 16 rape-and-murder of Nirbhaya has, once again, brought us bang into the middle of a national debate over capital punishment. The arguments in favour of and against the death penalty have been analysed and dissected and yet the controversy refuses to go away. The issue is extremely emotional, now and then bursting into flames as brutal terror acts and a horrible harvest of heinous crimes deeply shock the public, provoking indignant protests and clangorous demands for extreme and exemplary judicial punishment.
The sentence, which will now deliver, at an unspecified time and pending appeals in the appellate courts, the four men to the hangman, has brought to the fore our desire to get even — a natural human tendency that exists in almost everyone. But isn't it time we inquire about the extent to which this feeling of "an eye for an eye" should influence society's and the judiciary's verdict against men condemned to die? Does a mere execution set society free? Why not torture the convicts first so they will know and feel the pain and agony of being flayed by a jack-hammer?
This would be consistent with the popular view that justice requires payment in kind and for a few days people rejoice in the legitimate infliction of suffering and death, all the time convinced that men who commit unspeakable acts of rape-and-murder must get their just deserts.
Despite the familiar furnishing of graphs, figures and data, that there is no convincing proof that the death penalty has a deterrent effect on heinous crimes, proposals to make capital punishment mandatory where rape and murder are both involved or to retain it, if not expand its application, proliferate. Punishment by death then becomes an expression of the impulse for individual and collective self-defence "moralised by the feeling of sympathy."
Deeply ingrained in the judicial and social psyche is the belief that punishment by death is an evil that is justified as a means of avoiding greater evil. This suggests that rapists and murderers must be executed for retributive reasons: they should suffer to their very end. While it is debatable that death penalty's social benefits exceed its social costs, little thought is given to the horrors of killing a convict.
There was a time when hangings, beheadings, hurling from crags, blowing away by cannons and trampling by elephants were invariably held in public and these were occasions when riotous people would be allowed to indulge and involve themselves in the executions. With the passage of time, humanity has discovered and implemented more and more supposedly humane methods of putting convicted criminals and murderous maniacs to death, especially in the west.
But in India, the preferred method of death, served by hanging, has had a long life. In the putative march of civilisation, hangings became a private affair, confined to the prison gallows, overseen by a few men who dutifully tighten the noose around the neck and work the lever. We are, thankfully, spared the harrowing and potentially disturbing details of the lifeless bodies swinging from the scaffold.
As the four men prepare to contemplate their doom in their cells at Tihar jail, the clamour over the death sentence passed on them has grown shrill in society and social media alike. "Serves them right", "They deserved worse", "Why spend our tax rupees on the depraved", "Even animals don't behave the way they did", "Hanging is not half as good enough for them" are among some of the more popular strains of thoughts which testify that people still crave blood for blood.
These feelings towards the offenders are not matched by the desire or even contemplation to help them reform. Rather, the feeling is one of vengeance, stemming from a vindictive spirit in which death is a justifiable punishment, that there is no room for mercy or compassion and that punishment by life imprisonment without parole is insufficient for men who commit the crime of taking a human life or those who endanger public safety. What is given a go-by is that since there is a surfeit of events involving loss of life — in deadly conflicts and accidents — another life disposed of in the gallows makes no difference.
What's at stake is not just the lives of convicts on death row — in India, 476 men await their destruction at the gallows. What is also at stake is our faith in justice being above revenge, of the principle that the state cannot take away a person's life and of our commitment to collective improvement which Albert Camus described as the "great civilising step". This would mean asking another loaded question: Is there any place for death by law in a country with aspirations of greatness?
It is in this context that India's people must begin challenging the state's right to be in the business of putting people to death. Abolition of the death penalty should be the sine qua non of a modern state's "civilising mission." This idea would perhaps be abhorrent for the vast majority of the people. But the idea that India must do away with capital punishment must also spring from the belief in the sanctity of all human life. Hopefully, some day, the heart, from which stems the desire for retribution, will be able to listen to the head.
The sentence, which will now deliver, at an unspecified time and pending appeals in the appellate courts, the four men to the hangman, has brought to the fore our desire to get even — a natural human tendency that exists in almost everyone. But isn't it time we inquire about the extent to which this feeling of "an eye for an eye" should influence society's and the judiciary's verdict against men condemned to die? Does a mere execution set society free? Why not torture the convicts first so they will know and feel the pain and agony of being flayed by a jack-hammer?
This would be consistent with the popular view that justice requires payment in kind and for a few days people rejoice in the legitimate infliction of suffering and death, all the time convinced that men who commit unspeakable acts of rape-and-murder must get their just deserts.
Despite the familiar furnishing of graphs, figures and data, that there is no convincing proof that the death penalty has a deterrent effect on heinous crimes, proposals to make capital punishment mandatory where rape and murder are both involved or to retain it, if not expand its application, proliferate. Punishment by death then becomes an expression of the impulse for individual and collective self-defence "moralised by the feeling of sympathy."
Deeply ingrained in the judicial and social psyche is the belief that punishment by death is an evil that is justified as a means of avoiding greater evil. This suggests that rapists and murderers must be executed for retributive reasons: they should suffer to their very end. While it is debatable that death penalty's social benefits exceed its social costs, little thought is given to the horrors of killing a convict.
There was a time when hangings, beheadings, hurling from crags, blowing away by cannons and trampling by elephants were invariably held in public and these were occasions when riotous people would be allowed to indulge and involve themselves in the executions. With the passage of time, humanity has discovered and implemented more and more supposedly humane methods of putting convicted criminals and murderous maniacs to death, especially in the west.
But in India, the preferred method of death, served by hanging, has had a long life. In the putative march of civilisation, hangings became a private affair, confined to the prison gallows, overseen by a few men who dutifully tighten the noose around the neck and work the lever. We are, thankfully, spared the harrowing and potentially disturbing details of the lifeless bodies swinging from the scaffold.
As the four men prepare to contemplate their doom in their cells at Tihar jail, the clamour over the death sentence passed on them has grown shrill in society and social media alike. "Serves them right", "They deserved worse", "Why spend our tax rupees on the depraved", "Even animals don't behave the way they did", "Hanging is not half as good enough for them" are among some of the more popular strains of thoughts which testify that people still crave blood for blood.
These feelings towards the offenders are not matched by the desire or even contemplation to help them reform. Rather, the feeling is one of vengeance, stemming from a vindictive spirit in which death is a justifiable punishment, that there is no room for mercy or compassion and that punishment by life imprisonment without parole is insufficient for men who commit the crime of taking a human life or those who endanger public safety. What is given a go-by is that since there is a surfeit of events involving loss of life — in deadly conflicts and accidents — another life disposed of in the gallows makes no difference.
What's at stake is not just the lives of convicts on death row — in India, 476 men await their destruction at the gallows. What is also at stake is our faith in justice being above revenge, of the principle that the state cannot take away a person's life and of our commitment to collective improvement which Albert Camus described as the "great civilising step". This would mean asking another loaded question: Is there any place for death by law in a country with aspirations of greatness?
It is in this context that India's people must begin challenging the state's right to be in the business of putting people to death. Abolition of the death penalty should be the sine qua non of a modern state's "civilising mission." This idea would perhaps be abhorrent for the vast majority of the people. But the idea that India must do away with capital punishment must also spring from the belief in the sanctity of all human life. Hopefully, some day, the heart, from which stems the desire for retribution, will be able to listen to the head.