Media:
EXECUTION
LIVE
By RAYMOND A. SCHROTH
In January when those who wanted a
better attorney general than Missouris ex-senator John Ashcroft got hold
of the videotape of a talk he gave at Bob Jones University, they hoped it would
contain a smoking gun that would sink -- I almost said kill -- his
nomination.
Alas, there was no smoking gun -- merely his proclamation that
Jesus is Lord.
Last week, on Wednesday of Holy Week, I concluded my night class
in the Ethics of Criminal Justice by reading the passion account from the
gospel of Luke and let the class draw its own conclusions on how it fit into
the course.
Among other things, they saw an innocent man who did not resist
arrest. He was framed, tortured and executed to gratify a mob that enjoyed the
show.
Timothy McVeigh is no innocent. He is a mass murderer who has been
justly tried and convicted. And like every American who is convinced that he
has not really lived if he has not had his five minutes on TV, he wants to
leave this world with all of us watching. McVeighs letter proposing a
public broadcast of his execution was published in the Sunday Oklahoman
earlier this year.
Granting his request allows the moral distinction between him and
the rest of us to slip away. It makes it look as if we are all just as
bloodthirsty as he.
In Ashcroft we have a self-proclaimed man of God who is an
embarrassment to Christianity. The smoking gun has appeared: It is his decision
to literally make a show out of McVeighs execution, broadcasting it on
closed-circuit TV to an invitation-only audience. It would be composed of 250
people from victims families, along with survivors of the bomb blast that
tore apart the federal building in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995, leaving 168
people dead.
Viewing McVeighs death, the Christian attorney general
believes, will bring closure to the grieving.
To no ones surprise, an Internet company, Entertainment
Network, Inc, a producer specializing in voyeuristic reality
viewing, has claimed a First Amendment right to show a pay-per-view live video
of the death on its Web site, so you and I may enjoy -- excuse me, find closure
in -- the spectacle. A U.S. district judge was expected to rule April 20 on the
companys request.
Though most journalism students know the case where the New
York Daily News photographer strapped a camera to his ankle to secretly
snap the electrocution of husband-killer Ruth Snyder in 1928, common decency
and the law have long barred cameras from executions. But, as some in criminal
justice class said last night, as we discussed the morality of the death
penalty, Of course they would want to televise McVeighs death.
Everyone would watch it -- even though they know its sick. It follows
naturally from Survivor and the reality-TV phenomenon it
inspired.
So theyre running out of material. What do they do next?
Execution and death.
Closure? Watching a human being die will make the rest of us feel
better? Now the families of victims will miss their loved ones less? No longer
haunted by the rubble, smoke and corpses of that day, they will conjure up the
image of McVeighs dead body and find peace?
We have sometimes found peace in visiting a friend or family
member in his or her last hours or minutes. But what brings the peace is our
love, the final affirmation of our shared lives. To take satisfaction from
watching another human being die, even one who is an enemy, is to diminish,
pervert, our own humanity. And it no more purges our grief than a raging scream
drains off our anger.
Ive read depictions of executions and taught journalists
about them, but the closest Ive come to watching a killer die was reading
my friend Mike Wilsons account in the Mobile Register (June 10,
1997) of the electrocution of Henry Francis Hays. Hays had strangled, cut and
lynched a 19-year-old black man. The electrocution was not like in the movies,
Wilson wrote. As the 2,100 volts shot into him, Hays body jumped and
jerked against the straps like he was trying to fly.
His throat turned very red. His thumbs slammed into his
fists. For two full minutes the voltage fried his brain and organs until
the lifeless body sagged into the seat.
Young Wilson, who now works in Portland at the Oregonian,
turned to Hays brother and to his attorney and embraced them both. If the
embrace meant that he would no longer be sent to cover executions, it would be
fine with him.
Why is it all right, a student asks, to read about an execution --
as in the forthcoming book on McVeigh or in Wilsons story -- but not to
watch it on TV?
A good question.
Because the effect is, to some degree, determined by the medium.
The well-written news story is literature. It engages us totally -- our
imaginations, our moral and critical senses. Yet we control the experience. We
put the book down to think, to weep.
Hays, whom I had never heard of before Wilsons articles,
became human through Wilsons account. Like the director and film editor
of Dead Man Walking, the journalist and his editor structure their
scenes for effect. Both they and we know that they can degrade us with
sensationalism or lead us to affirm life anew.
A live TV execution is no more art than a live tornado or car
crash. One moment the prisoner is a curiosity, an entertainer. The next he is a
corpse. It is lights and colors in a box in my room, which I watch with one eye
on the screen and the other on my e-mail. This will be called
reality.
Because of the way we have been conditioned to watch TV, though,
it is just another show, no more reality than a sitcom. Click! Or MTV. Click!
Or John Wayne on American Movie Classics. Click!
Or, now this. The evening news next May 16: Timothy McVeigh
died today, executed for the Oklahoma City bombing, which killed 168 people,
while survivors and victims watched via closed circuit TV.
Jesuit Fr. Raymond A. Schroth, NCRs media
columnist, is Jesuit community professor of the humanities at St. Peters
College in Jersey City, N.J. His e-mail address is
raymondschroth@aol.com
National Catholic Reporter, April 27,
2001
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