It was reported in the New York Times (24 February 2009) that many states in the USA are considering abolishing the death penalty, not because of growing moral reservations about the ultimate form of punishment, but in order to reduce costs.
Unfortunately the dead men walking in Indonesia's prisons cannot hope for a flow-on effect.
Among them are Myuran Sukumaran, Andrew Chan and Scott Rush, whose cases inch towards a climax that
may include a hail of bullets near dawn on a remote Bali beach.
Luke Davies' essay, 'The Penalty is Death' in the September edition of The Monthly, based on interviews with Sukumaran, Chan and their families, succeeded in humanising the convicted 'ringleaders' (as they are usually branded) of the Bali 9.
But the most chilling element of Davies' report pertains not to the Bali 9 but to another high-profile death row case. Davies cites a letter addressed to Kim Nguyen, Van Nguyen's mother, informing her that the death sentence passed on her son would be carried out on 2 December 2005 in Singapore's Changi Prison.
'Please do not hesitate to contact our officers-in-charge if you have any queries', it notes with cold neutrality, as if it were a response to a disputed water bill. 'You are requested to make the necessary arrangements for him. However, if you are unable to do so, the State will assist in cremating the body.'
Van Nguyen knew he had to die. But did he know why he had to die?
The proportionality of crime and punishment and the impact of the
sentence on his family were not serious considerations for the judge
who passed the sentence on him, or for the Singaporean Government that
denied him clemency.
He died because a faceless system said he
must. His death ensured that the system continued according to a
blinkered logic that took little account of who he was, how he might
have changed, and why he had committed the crime. 'Possession of 396 grams of heroin' was entered into the machine. 'Death by hanging' was the output.
I am reminded of Franz Kafka's short story 'In the Penal Colony'. The traveller is invited to witness the execution of a soldier 'condemned for insubordination and insulting an officer', although 'interest in the execution seemed not to be that great in the penal colony'.
The colony employs a unique and complex machine, invented by the previous commandant, to carry out its executions. Much of the story is taken up by the proud