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An afternoon well spent
Aug. 3rd, 2011 05:46 pmToday I drove down to Watsonville, an hour south, to meet with California State Assemblyman Luis Alejo as part of a group working for the passage of SB 490. The bill would allow the people of California to vote on replacing the death penalty with life without possibility of parole. We were a mixed group - a Salinas city councilwoman, a priest who's done chaplaincy work in prisons for many years, a representative from Death Penalty Focus, and a woman whose husband was wrongfully convinced, later exonerated, and now works for the Innocence Project. And me. I got into this through California Crime Victims for Alternatives to the Death Penalty. As a family member of a murder victim, my opposition to the death penalty carries special weight.
There are many arguments against the death penalty: it doesn't deter violent crime, it is detrimental to public safety by diverting funds for law enforcement, it risks executing the innocent, it is obscenely expensive (cutting it would save $1 billion over the next 5 years). The viewpoint that I bring to the discussion is that it does incalculable harm to the families of victims (and those of the accused).
In the years after the murder of a loved one, survivors are desperate for anything that will ease their pain. But state-sponsored premeditated killing cannot heal; it can only perpetuate the myth of restorative violence. This illusion deprives those who suffer of the tools and skills necessary to become whole once more. The death penalty keeps the survivors focused on punishment and revenge, and forces them to remain emotionally engaged with the person who killed their loved one. It becomes impossible to let go of hatred. We are told that the execution will "bring closure," as if some external event could substitute for the internal emotional and spiritual work of grief and re-engagement with life. In my experience, it can't. I am appalled at the idea that the cycle of violence is being perpetuated as if by my consent and for my benefit.
This is the first time I've so publicly told my story and talked about healing. It went very well. Alejo's own background includes grassroots civil rights activism and youth outreach for crime prevention. His family were migrant farm workers, United Farm Worker organizers. I couldn't have asked for a more sympathetic audience. I came away heartened that there are a few politicians out there who don't need to bluster about being tough on crime, but instead are committed to improving the communities they represent.
If all goes well, we hope to see this on the November 2012 ballot.
There are many arguments against the death penalty: it doesn't deter violent crime, it is detrimental to public safety by diverting funds for law enforcement, it risks executing the innocent, it is obscenely expensive (cutting it would save $1 billion over the next 5 years). The viewpoint that I bring to the discussion is that it does incalculable harm to the families of victims (and those of the accused).
In the years after the murder of a loved one, survivors are desperate for anything that will ease their pain. But state-sponsored premeditated killing cannot heal; it can only perpetuate the myth of restorative violence. This illusion deprives those who suffer of the tools and skills necessary to become whole once more. The death penalty keeps the survivors focused on punishment and revenge, and forces them to remain emotionally engaged with the person who killed their loved one. It becomes impossible to let go of hatred. We are told that the execution will "bring closure," as if some external event could substitute for the internal emotional and spiritual work of grief and re-engagement with life. In my experience, it can't. I am appalled at the idea that the cycle of violence is being perpetuated as if by my consent and for my benefit.
This is the first time I've so publicly told my story and talked about healing. It went very well. Alejo's own background includes grassroots civil rights activism and youth outreach for crime prevention. His family were migrant farm workers, United Farm Worker organizers. I couldn't have asked for a more sympathetic audience. I came away heartened that there are a few politicians out there who don't need to bluster about being tough on crime, but instead are committed to improving the communities they represent.
If all goes well, we hope to see this on the November 2012 ballot.
