Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Jon Langford & Co Arrive--Leaving a Trail of Abolition in Their Wake
Jon Langford and his amazingly talented band performed "The Executioner's Last Songs" before a capacity house at the Triple Door on March 5.
Best known as the front man for the Mekons, Jon Langford created and performed a mordantly beautiful performance work--a compelling collection of tales and songs on the themes of murder, mob law, and cruel, cruel punishment. Langford took us on a twisting and witty autobiographical ride that looked unflinchingly at the promises of life and the penalty of death. The performance combined live music, spoken word, his own visual art, and recordings of American roots music.
Prior to his appearance in Seattle, Langford and his mates produced an series of two CD's raising money for the Illinois Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty, while simultaneously raising awareness around the globe. Within a year, Gov. Ryan cleared death row in Illinois.
Just before arriving in Seattle, Langford performed the show and spoke to Montana law-makers. While he was there, the Montana senate voted to abolish the death penalty.
A Welsh-born, country music playing punk rocker convincing the Montana senate to abolish the death penalty after rubbing the nose of the Lt. Gov's stuffed buffalo head? I honestly never thought I'd write those words, but maybe it is high time for a change to come.
The Demise of our Bills
Remember "I'm Just a Bill" from Schoolhouse Rock:
Well, it's a long, long journey
To the capital city.
It's a long, long waitWhile I'm sitting in committee,
But I know I'll be a law some dayAt least I hope and pray that I will
But today I am still just a bill.
Well, we waited and waited, but never got out of committee--we actually made it out of the first committees on our study bill, but then couldn't get out of Ways and Means and Appropriations. Our modest proposal to ban the execution of individuals who are severely mentally ill never made it out of the judiciary committees, despite the overwhelming show of support.
On the other hand, thre were more important things for the Legislature to consider than preventing the execution of individuals who suffer from the most serious of mental illnesses or taking the time and spending the money to discover whether our death penalty laws are in greater need of repair than the Seattle Viaduct. Like, creating a state climatologist or setting up a gift shop in the legislative building---and, no, I am not making this up. And, let's not forget the important debate on the future of the viaduct.
Tell you what, while we are tearing down that structure why don't we dismantle the machinery of death. I think the view will be better--for all our citizens.
We will be back, no reference to The Terminator intended. Our passion for justice runs very, very deep.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Political Courage--Calling Gov. Gregoire
The following was written by Michael Tackett published in PostBulletin.com.:
While Sens. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama were engaged in the first official hissy fit (the technical term) of the 2008 presidential campaign, another Democrat was actually engaged in a matter of important public policy.
Just to recap: Clinton was furious because Hollywood mogul David Geffen ridiculed her and former President Bill Clinton in an interview with Maureen Dowd of The New York Times on the very day that Geffen was hosting a fundraiser for Obama that reportedly brought $1.3 million to his campaign. Before his conversion to Obama, Geffen had raised about $18 million for the former president.
The spat led to several days of coverage in a not-so-deep search for deeper meaning about the state of the race and the state of the Clintons, which, by the way, undoubtedly will be the campaign's ongoing soap opera subtext.
Meanwhile, across the country in Annapolis, Md., another public drama was playing out, and in this case, the stakes were not money, but life and death.
Martin O'Malley, the youthful new governor, made an emotional plea to a state Senate committee to repeal the death penalty in Maryland.
That is one long march from the scene at a 1988 presidential debate when Michael Dukakis was pilloried for giving a lawyerly answer to a hypothetical question about whether he would impose the death penalty on a man who had raped and murdered his wife. Dukakis' dispassionate rejection of capital punishment became a ready emblem for the Republican narrative that Democrats were soft on crime.
From that point on, most Democrats with higher ambitions rushed to be seen as state-sanctioned Grim Reapers. None did it with as much flourish as then-Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton, who jetted back to his state just before the New Hampshire primary to preside over the execution of Ricky Ray Rector, a brain-damaged man who told prison officials he wanted to save the dessert from his last meal until after his execution.
Few Democrats since have been willing to take forceful public action that would make it appear as if they were not tough on criminals. In fact, it was not until a Republican, former Illinois Gov. George Ryan, imposed a moratorium on the death penalty that any movement to repeal capital punishment statutes gained significant traction. In fact, O'Malley cited during his testimony the 18 Death Row inmates who have been released in Illinois after their innocence was proved.
O'Malley has been on the short list of rising Democratic stars for several years. Telegenic, smart and the leader of his own Irish band, O'Malley's March, he was mayor of Baltimore before being elected governor last November. Before that, he had been chosen to speak at the Democratic National Convention in 2004 and fortunately for him, in a very forgettable time slot, given a delivery that dripped with emotion far more than sincerity.
His push to repeal the death penalty is perhaps his highest-profile move since taking office, and one that carries abundant political risk, particularly because he is seen as a politician with national ambitions.
But on this issue, O'Malley is resolutely righteous, making a moral and theological argument as much as a political or legal one to support his thesis that the death penalty is neither a "just punishment" nor an "effective deterrent" to murder.
"Notwithstanding the executions of the rightly convicted, can the death penalty ever be justified, then, as public policy when it inherently necessitates the occasional taking of a wrongly convicted and innocent life?" he said. "Is any one of us willing to sacrifice a member of our own family -- wrongly convicted, sentenced and executed -- in order to secure the execution of five rightly convicted murderers? And even if we were, could that public policy be called 'just'? I believe it cannot."
He was just getting wound up.
"Individual human dignity is the concept that leads brave individuals to sacrifice their own lives for the lives of strangers," O'Malley said. "Individual human dignity is the truth universal that is the basis of all ethics. Individual human dignity is the fundamental belief upon which all laws of this state and this republic are founded. And absent a deterrent value, I truly believe that the damage done by our conscious communal use of the death penalty to the concept of human dignity is greater than the benefit of even a justly drawn retribution."
It was a gutsy approach, even in a heavily Democratic state. And O'Malley will find out if his risk is rewarded. Maybe Geffen would bankroll the movie.
While Sens. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama were engaged in the first official hissy fit (the technical term) of the 2008 presidential campaign, another Democrat was actually engaged in a matter of important public policy.
Just to recap: Clinton was furious because Hollywood mogul David Geffen ridiculed her and former President Bill Clinton in an interview with Maureen Dowd of The New York Times on the very day that Geffen was hosting a fundraiser for Obama that reportedly brought $1.3 million to his campaign. Before his conversion to Obama, Geffen had raised about $18 million for the former president.
The spat led to several days of coverage in a not-so-deep search for deeper meaning about the state of the race and the state of the Clintons, which, by the way, undoubtedly will be the campaign's ongoing soap opera subtext.
Meanwhile, across the country in Annapolis, Md., another public drama was playing out, and in this case, the stakes were not money, but life and death.
Martin O'Malley, the youthful new governor, made an emotional plea to a state Senate committee to repeal the death penalty in Maryland.
That is one long march from the scene at a 1988 presidential debate when Michael Dukakis was pilloried for giving a lawyerly answer to a hypothetical question about whether he would impose the death penalty on a man who had raped and murdered his wife. Dukakis' dispassionate rejection of capital punishment became a ready emblem for the Republican narrative that Democrats were soft on crime.
From that point on, most Democrats with higher ambitions rushed to be seen as state-sanctioned Grim Reapers. None did it with as much flourish as then-Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton, who jetted back to his state just before the New Hampshire primary to preside over the execution of Ricky Ray Rector, a brain-damaged man who told prison officials he wanted to save the dessert from his last meal until after his execution.
Few Democrats since have been willing to take forceful public action that would make it appear as if they were not tough on criminals. In fact, it was not until a Republican, former Illinois Gov. George Ryan, imposed a moratorium on the death penalty that any movement to repeal capital punishment statutes gained significant traction. In fact, O'Malley cited during his testimony the 18 Death Row inmates who have been released in Illinois after their innocence was proved.
O'Malley has been on the short list of rising Democratic stars for several years. Telegenic, smart and the leader of his own Irish band, O'Malley's March, he was mayor of Baltimore before being elected governor last November. Before that, he had been chosen to speak at the Democratic National Convention in 2004 and fortunately for him, in a very forgettable time slot, given a delivery that dripped with emotion far more than sincerity.
His push to repeal the death penalty is perhaps his highest-profile move since taking office, and one that carries abundant political risk, particularly because he is seen as a politician with national ambitions.
But on this issue, O'Malley is resolutely righteous, making a moral and theological argument as much as a political or legal one to support his thesis that the death penalty is neither a "just punishment" nor an "effective deterrent" to murder.
"Notwithstanding the executions of the rightly convicted, can the death penalty ever be justified, then, as public policy when it inherently necessitates the occasional taking of a wrongly convicted and innocent life?" he said. "Is any one of us willing to sacrifice a member of our own family -- wrongly convicted, sentenced and executed -- in order to secure the execution of five rightly convicted murderers? And even if we were, could that public policy be called 'just'? I believe it cannot."
He was just getting wound up.
"Individual human dignity is the concept that leads brave individuals to sacrifice their own lives for the lives of strangers," O'Malley said. "Individual human dignity is the truth universal that is the basis of all ethics. Individual human dignity is the fundamental belief upon which all laws of this state and this republic are founded. And absent a deterrent value, I truly believe that the damage done by our conscious communal use of the death penalty to the concept of human dignity is greater than the benefit of even a justly drawn retribution."
It was a gutsy approach, even in a heavily Democratic state. And O'Malley will find out if his risk is rewarded. Maybe Geffen would bankroll the movie.
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