For the last fifteen or so years, groups of St Aloysius' students have been joining a Philippines immersion for three weeks. At the end of that experience — one which both nourishes and tears at the heart — there is a period spent sharing the lives of inmates (and their families) at the national penitentiary in Muntinlupa.
There they have engaged in conversations, meals, Masses and games with juvenile offenders, medium- and maximum-security prisoners, and those on death row. Included, too, was a visit to the execution compound.
Approaching the walled and caged building where the sentence was carried out, our young fellows have always been struck by something of a paradox proclaimed in two signs at the door: ‘Bureau of Corrections’ alongside ‘Lethal Injection Chamber’. They were quick to seize upon it. ‘How can you correct and rehabilitate a person after you have killed him?’ they would ask.
Prior to the visit, many of our immersionistas begin with a conviction that in certain extreme cases, a death sentence is appropriate. Then we first enter the end room of the complex, the public viewing room where twenty or so ‘guests’ could view an execution. These would include officials, the press and members of the condemned man’s family or even those of the victim’s family. A one-way mirror looks into the injecting room.
We then move to the other end of the building, the cell which the condemned man enters early in the morning of his execution. A tiny window allows limited communication with his family or the chaplain. The room is rubberised and padded in case the man attempts to do himself an injury and thus cheat the state of its proper process. He will order his favourite meal for lunch.
In an adjoining room is a red phone to Malacañang Palace, the residence of the president, in case there is a stay of execution. If not, the prisoner is taken to the execution room and strapped to a table in cruciform-shape. From that cross-like position, he can gaze at a crucifix on the wall. There are layers of religious piety here — unsubtle and sickening attempts at sanctifying the process. The boys gently touch the leather binding straps on the execution table, a curious blend of both reality-check and a reverence.
'Walking back to the Jesuit chaplaincy, the boys quietly talked in twos or threes. Subdued. Reflective. It was rare for any of them to believe in the death penalty