A penalty of death

On December 17, in this space, I described what I considered to be the so-called “big and little” things of public life in T&T.

Among the several phenomena mentioned, when referencing the “little” things, was the absurd prevalence of potholes and disfigured roadways – both major and minor – all over the country.

I described the “beauty” of a hole near T&TEC along the Eastern Main Road in Curepe and jokingly noted its proximity to a tyre shop and three places of worship.

Four days later, a male pedestrian died when a car, presumed to have swerved to avoid that very pothole, struck him, narrowly missed a nearby metal bridge, and landed in the river some seven or eight metres below.

The last time I checked, the “complex” pothole - comprising a jagged, narrow horizontal strip and an adjoining axle-breaking crater was still there.

Nobody appears to have made a big, public fuss over what happened. The victim was described in news reporting as being “homeless,” and since the occupants of the car appeared to have received non-life-threatening injuries, there has been little follow-up – at least none that I have seen.

Both T&TEC and the tyre shop are back in action, road users who know the spot do a quick left and sharp right to escape; while others unfamiliar with the area painfully deal with damaged rims, tyres, and suspension systems.

The point here is that, in this instance, the penalty paid for what is at least state neglect was someone’s death. Speeding has not (yet) been proven - which would have, at minimum, introduced a notion of contributory negligence. Even so, should the penalty for speeding be someone’s death, if not yours?

The fact is that paying with one’s life has become, far too routinely, a grim feature of existence in a society that loudly proclaims the sanctity and preciousness of life – at least rhetorically.

An opinion poll would most likely show, for instance, that most of us approve of the continued presence of the death penalty on the statute books and that many would prefer to just kill “them” all … violently. This is especially so during this violent period when revenge is so frequently inter-changeable with a notion of “justice.”

It does not matter that shortcomings in the areas of policing, prosecutions, and prompt judicial action persist, and the potential for loss of innocent life - an accused in this instance - exists.

People here, by and large, believe that if you are adjudged to have taken someone’s life you should die. But even that is not the end of it.

For, simultaneously - and judging from public commentary on recent legislation introduced and passed - a penalty of death is also desirable even when all juridical and humane pre-requisites have not been satisfied.

For example, pair the eager passage of (largely misconstrued) “stand your ground” legislation with an expanded, voracious appetite for more readily available firearms and see what I mean.

Whatever the requirements of proportionality, the potential for violent escalation, and the absence of safeguards against deadly outcomes, there is a recognisable thirst for both tried and untried criminal blood. Intruders, you see, need to be killed.

It’s approximately the same mindset when it comes to people, including our own, in pirogues out at sea unilaterally declared to be engaged in criminal activity. Guilty or not, a penalty of death appears to be quite acceptable.

In such instances, insisting on any semblance of due process is certainly not a mere symptom of uninformed, partisan haste or irrational “angst.” In fact, a predisposition to question and to condemn such actions may well be a rare redeeming quality of the current period.

Meanwhile, from the same sacred platforms from which such angst is being noted there has been scarce mention of the fact that the penalty for being a baby or young child in Gaza has, for the past two years, been death by violence – all 21,000 of them (including 1,000 babies under the age of 1).

Okay, there is some disagreement over the numbers. So, let’s say, hypothetically, a single baby has been murdered (and not the 1,000 as claimed) without remorseful mention … even as we honour the birth of another, where does that leave us?

Could it be that a penalty of death is not as undesirable as we so often claim? That life, once it’s not ours, is an expendable commodity. It is a sorry condition to contemplate.

Happy New Year.