Although Timothy McVeigh's crime is one of the most horrible
imaginable, the motivation for his crime and his behavior in the
courtroom actually are quite typical. As an expert witness in
capital cases, I have noticed that many criminals are motivated
by the desire to right a wrong, not to perpetrate one. Most criminals
think they are restoring an imbalance that the victim has created
by his own actions. Such is the case with ordinary crimes of passion,
domestic violence, aggravated assault and sometimes even robbery
and burglary. In the criminal's view, the victim deserved to be
punished.
Criminals tend to see moral issues as cut and dried -- no ambiguity
for them. They are overly sensitive to perceived injustices and
believe in getting even. Motivated by revenge, a primitive form
of justice, they tend to believe in harsh punishment, even capital
punishment.
A few days ago I had the occasion to talk with two convicted
murders, both of whom expressed powerful support for the death
penalty. They believed in "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a
tooth" even if that left everyone blind and toothless.
In this sense, Timothy McVeigh is typical. He apparently bombed
the federal building in Oklahoma City to get back at the federal
government for its assault on the Branch Davidian compound near
Waco, Tex. in 1992. While many Americans agreed that the government's
actions at Waco were questionable, perhaps indefensible, what
separates Timothy McVeigh from the rest of us is that he felt
that the tragedy at Waco gave him the right to vent his personal
anger at the government by killing federal employees and other
innocent people. Although most criminals limit their revenge to
personal harms or injustices, either real or imagined, Timothy
McVeigh is still typical in that he simply did not care about
the lives or suffering of his victims. Indeed, the point was to
take lives and cause suffering.
McVeigh's behavior in the courtroom also is typical. I have testified
for the defense in about 25 death penalty hearings and consulted
in dozens more, and I have never seen a defendant show any remorse.
Most sit passively, staring into space, appearing not to care
whether they live or die. Even when given a chance to make a statement,
one that can't be cross-examined, not a single convicted murderer
I've observed has availed himself of that opportunity. Not one
has gotten up and said simply that he was sorry for what he had
done, never mind asked for forgiveness or mercy, even to save
his life. Too proud or too stupid, they are not about to fake
remorse and beg for their lives. Like Timothy McVeigh, most murderers
believe they were morally justified in committing their crimes.
It has been said that Timothy McVeigh is a poster boy for the
death penalty. This may be so, but he is also a poster boy against
the death penalty. For executing Timothy McVeigh only reinforces
the idea that revenge is justified and violence a legitimate way
to right a wrong or restore social equilibrium. An execution is
what McVeigh has come to expect from us; to him that is the way
the world works. By killing McVeigh, however, all we do is feed
the thirst for vengeance, weakening rather than strengthening
social bonds. In his own eyes, McVeigh is a martyr, a prisoner
of war, who struck a blow against government oppression. Using
killing to fight killing only gets us into an argument about whose
killing is justified and whose is not.
Timothy McVeigh's execution is not only about him. If it were
it would be easy, for if anyone deserves to die, it is McVeigh.
But McVeigh's execution is also about us, about who we are as
a people and what is a sensible social policy toward those who
kill. No one has argued that McVeigh should not be punished severely.
But is more gained or lost when we choose the death penalty over
life imprisonment without parole? How can we respond without encouraging
the notion of blood revenge as the only satisfying form of punishment?
With the exaltation of victims' rights during the past two decades,
vengeance has become a legitimate goal of punishment and revenge
a central focus of the debate on capital punishment. This has
forced a false moral choice between the victim and the offender,
a kind of whose side are you on, the good guys' or the bad guys'?
But to argue against the death penalty in McVeigh's case is not
to search for some redeeming value in his life. It is not even
to argue over what kind of society we want to live in. It is merely
to argue about how we best get there.
Proponents of capital punishment have claimed that McVeigh's
execution will help bring closure to the victims' families. I
only wish that were true. I suspect that most, even those who
witness the execution, will be left as empty and angry as before.
Not one of them would have willingly traded the life of their
loved one for that of McVeigh. The idea that McVeigh's execution
will restore the balance between good and evil is an illusion.
Unless McVeigh's crime has somehow turned us into him, this kind
of collective revenge is almost always unfulfilling and generally
counterproductive. As Peggy Broxterman, who lost a son in the
Oklahoma City bombing, has said: "You close on a house. You don't
close on a death."
