Have you heard about the "Knockout Game"? Ostensibly, roving packs of teenagers walk up to random people and attempt to knock them out with one punch. Police, however, question whether the Knockout Game actually exists or is simply an internet-fueled urban myth. Of course, whether the game exists or not, one can reasonably worry that the increasing coverage in outlets as varied as The New York Times and "The Solipsist" will inspire people to create it (you're welcome, America!).
More disturbing, though, are the official reassurances: Sure, police say, people have been punched in the head by complete strangers for no reason. But far from being an organized activity engaged in by disaffected youth, these are merely the random acts of violence we've all become accustomed to in America today. Nothing more to see here!
Showing posts with label Law and Order. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Law and Order. Show all posts
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Profilin' Bigotry
"Mr. [Mark] O’Mara [a lawyer for George Zimmerman] disputed the notion that Mr. Zimmerman engaged in racial profiling. 'His history was not as a racist,' he said.
He added that if Mr. Zimmerman was black, he likely would never have been charged. 'This became a focus for a civil rights event, which is a wonderful event to have,' he said, 'but they decided George Zimmerman was to blame and to use as a civil rights violation.'”
Well, Mr. O'Mara, you may be right: If George Zimmerman had been black, he may never have been charged with second-degree murder for shooting Trayvon Martin in "self-defense." And in that sense, Zimmerman is "unlucky" to be white.
As unlucky as Zimmerman's whiteness may be, though, it is dwarfed by his good fortune in Trayvon Martin's blackness. Because let's be honest, Mr. O'Mara, if Trayvon had been white, then Zimmerman would have been arrested immediately, and would right now likely be serving 25-30 years in jail for manslaughter.
Oh, who are we kidding? If Trayvon had been white, Zimmerman never would have been following him in the first place.
Oh, who are we kidding? If Trayvon had been white, Zimmerman never would have been following him in the first place.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Not Right, Not Illegal
Brace yourselves, Nation: George Zimmerman is not guilty. Now, this in no way means he is innocent, nor does it mean he should not spend a significant amount of time in jail. But he probably won't. Because he's not guilty.
I know this doesn't feel right: An unarmed young man, Trayvon Martin, was shot and killed by Zimmerman, an overzealous wannabe-cop, who claims that Martin "attacked" him. The fact that Zimmerman was following Martin around, despite being told by a 911 dispatcher that they (the authorities) "didn't need him to do that" certainly weakens Zimmerman's claims of self-defense. At the same time, though, the fact that Florida has a by-now-well-known "stand your ground" law--which enables people to claim self-defense despite, essentially, not needing to defend themselves--makes a successful prosecution difficult--particularly when the victim is no longer around to provide his side of the story.
Were George Zimmerman's actions right? Absolutely not. Were they illegal? Under Florida law, probably not. The fault lies not with the prosecution--nor even entirely with George Zimmerman--but with the benighted state of the criminal justice system in the redneck South.
Perhaps, if and when Zimmerman is acquitted, a federal civil rights case could be filed against him. I don't know all the technicalities involved in such a prosecution, but I do know that such things have been done before.
Of course, if acquitted, Zimmerman will need to be careful. After all, the stand-your-ground provision states that anyone "who is not engaged in an unlawful activity and who is attacked in any other place where he or she has a right to be has no duty to retreat and has the right to stand his or her ground and meet force with force, including deadly force if he or she reasonably believes it is necessary to do so to prevent death or great bodily harm to himself or herself." Given Zimmerman's proven propensity to use deadly force at the slightest provocation, wouldn't anyone in his vicinity have the right to stand his ground and defend himself accordingly?
I know this doesn't feel right: An unarmed young man, Trayvon Martin, was shot and killed by Zimmerman, an overzealous wannabe-cop, who claims that Martin "attacked" him. The fact that Zimmerman was following Martin around, despite being told by a 911 dispatcher that they (the authorities) "didn't need him to do that" certainly weakens Zimmerman's claims of self-defense. At the same time, though, the fact that Florida has a by-now-well-known "stand your ground" law--which enables people to claim self-defense despite, essentially, not needing to defend themselves--makes a successful prosecution difficult--particularly when the victim is no longer around to provide his side of the story.
Were George Zimmerman's actions right? Absolutely not. Were they illegal? Under Florida law, probably not. The fault lies not with the prosecution--nor even entirely with George Zimmerman--but with the benighted state of the criminal justice system in the redneck South.
Perhaps, if and when Zimmerman is acquitted, a federal civil rights case could be filed against him. I don't know all the technicalities involved in such a prosecution, but I do know that such things have been done before.
Of course, if acquitted, Zimmerman will need to be careful. After all, the stand-your-ground provision states that anyone "who is not engaged in an unlawful activity and who is attacked in any other place where he or she has a right to be has no duty to retreat and has the right to stand his or her ground and meet force with force, including deadly force if he or she reasonably believes it is necessary to do so to prevent death or great bodily harm to himself or herself." Given Zimmerman's proven propensity to use deadly force at the slightest provocation, wouldn't anyone in his vicinity have the right to stand his ground and defend himself accordingly?
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Confession of a Sex Offender
I am a sex offender. I have never been arrested, much less convicted, but the fact remains, and I want to come clean now before my past catches up with me. I hope you will show mercy.
It happened about 20 years ago. I was living in Brooklyn at the time. It was very late--3:00, 4:00 in the morning. I had been drinking: I know that doesn't excuse my actions, but I hope it mitigates the situation somewhat. I was on my way home--let me emphasize that this was in no way premeditated; I truly had not planned on this happening. I guess I just couldn't control myself . Anyway, what happened was, in a dark alley in the Fort Hamilton area. . . . I urinated.
OK, it's not exactly raping a panda, but, still, in many jurisdictions--perhaps in New York for all I know--had I been unlucky enough to be caught, I could theoretically have been charged with a sexual offense (indecent exposure, most likely). While I probably would have served no jail time, especially if I agreed to plead guilty, this conviction could have placed me on watch lists along with rapists and child molesters. And as more and more jurisdictions pass laws aimed at protecting children from predators, this could have had significant impact on where I could live and work.
No one could argue against protecting children. (Well, I probably could if I were feeling ornery, but I won't.) And some of these laws--like those aimed at keeping child molesters away from elementary schools and playgrounds--are hard to argue with in principle (if somewhat questionable in practice). On the whole, though, the reflexive impulse of legislators to pass "tough on crime" laws aimed at broadly defined "sex offenders" is wrong-headed at best and quite possibly unconstitutional.
What's truly ironic is that laws banning sexual offenders from, say, public parks are more likely to be observed by the generally law-abiding public urinator than by the truly dangerous sexual predator. So who's being protected? True, you can argue that such laws allow police to arrest predators simply for being in an area with children--thus stopping them before they can prey on the innocent. But unless we are planning to station police at every entrance to every park--indeed, to every public space that falls within boundaries off-limits to sex offenders--then these laws are effectively unenforceable.
To protect the public, governments should consider legislation that allows the criminal justice system to impose restrictions on the truly dangerous and on a case-by-case basis. There is a significant difference between a serial rapist and someone who pees in a public place--or for that matter an 18-year-old who has consensual sex with, say, a 17-year-old boy- or girlfriend. Nevertheless, all these people could fall under the category of "sexual offender" in one or more jurisdictions around the country.
It seems to me that any law that would treat me--or, let's face it, 99% of the male population and a not-insignificant portion of the female--the same as Ted Bundy is, to put it mildly, flawed legislation. And anyone who thinks that urination constitutes a sexual offense should retake high-school biology.
It happened about 20 years ago. I was living in Brooklyn at the time. It was very late--3:00, 4:00 in the morning. I had been drinking: I know that doesn't excuse my actions, but I hope it mitigates the situation somewhat. I was on my way home--let me emphasize that this was in no way premeditated; I truly had not planned on this happening. I guess I just couldn't control myself . Anyway, what happened was, in a dark alley in the Fort Hamilton area. . . . I urinated.
OK, it's not exactly raping a panda, but, still, in many jurisdictions--perhaps in New York for all I know--had I been unlucky enough to be caught, I could theoretically have been charged with a sexual offense (indecent exposure, most likely). While I probably would have served no jail time, especially if I agreed to plead guilty, this conviction could have placed me on watch lists along with rapists and child molesters. And as more and more jurisdictions pass laws aimed at protecting children from predators, this could have had significant impact on where I could live and work.
No one could argue against protecting children. (Well, I probably could if I were feeling ornery, but I won't.) And some of these laws--like those aimed at keeping child molesters away from elementary schools and playgrounds--are hard to argue with in principle (if somewhat questionable in practice). On the whole, though, the reflexive impulse of legislators to pass "tough on crime" laws aimed at broadly defined "sex offenders" is wrong-headed at best and quite possibly unconstitutional.
What's truly ironic is that laws banning sexual offenders from, say, public parks are more likely to be observed by the generally law-abiding public urinator than by the truly dangerous sexual predator. So who's being protected? True, you can argue that such laws allow police to arrest predators simply for being in an area with children--thus stopping them before they can prey on the innocent. But unless we are planning to station police at every entrance to every park--indeed, to every public space that falls within boundaries off-limits to sex offenders--then these laws are effectively unenforceable.
To protect the public, governments should consider legislation that allows the criminal justice system to impose restrictions on the truly dangerous and on a case-by-case basis. There is a significant difference between a serial rapist and someone who pees in a public place--or for that matter an 18-year-old who has consensual sex with, say, a 17-year-old boy- or girlfriend. Nevertheless, all these people could fall under the category of "sexual offender" in one or more jurisdictions around the country.
It seems to me that any law that would treat me--or, let's face it, 99% of the male population and a not-insignificant portion of the female--the same as Ted Bundy is, to put it mildly, flawed legislation. And anyone who thinks that urination constitutes a sexual offense should retake high-school biology.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
No Self-Defense
Travyon Martin was not killed in self-defense. He was murdered. The only real question is how guilty the shooter, George Zimmerman, is.
The facts of the case, in brief, are these: In Sanford, Florida, Travyon Martin, a 17-year-old African-American with no criminal history, was walking to his father's girlfriend's house from a convenience store one evening in February. He was spotted by George Zimmerman, a 28-year-old neighborhood watch volunteer, who found Martin "suspicious." Zimmerman called 911 and then proceeded to follow Martin. Ultimately, Zimmerman, who was carrying a licensed gun, got out of his car and confronted Martin. The two men struggled and, in the end, Zimmerman shot and killed Martin.
Zimmerman is claiming self-defense, under a provision of Florida law known as "stand your ground": Under this theory, a person is not obligated to attempt to flee from an attacker in order to claim self-defense. The problem with Zimmerman's claim is that he wasn't simply "standing his ground." When he called 911 and reported the "suspicious" Travyon Martin--who was armed with nothing more deadly than a bag of Skittles--the 911 operator expressly told Zimmerman NOT to follow Martin and to stay in his vehicle. When Zimmerman ignored this directive, he was effectively hunting the 17-year-old. So unless Florida's self-defense law also has a "looking for trouble" provision, Zimmerman's claims fall apart. Nevertheless, Sanford police claim that their hands are tied and that they cannot arrest Zimmerman.
Nonsense.
Obviously, there are facts in this case that we do not know; there may well be evidence to support Zimmerman's self-defense claim--possibly even to exonerate him. But the factual evidence of the 911 call--with the operator's explicit command not to follow Martin--certainly calls the self-defense claim into enough question that it should be presented to jury. Anything else will simply exacerbate what is already a grievous miscarriage of justice.
The facts of the case, in brief, are these: In Sanford, Florida, Travyon Martin, a 17-year-old African-American with no criminal history, was walking to his father's girlfriend's house from a convenience store one evening in February. He was spotted by George Zimmerman, a 28-year-old neighborhood watch volunteer, who found Martin "suspicious." Zimmerman called 911 and then proceeded to follow Martin. Ultimately, Zimmerman, who was carrying a licensed gun, got out of his car and confronted Martin. The two men struggled and, in the end, Zimmerman shot and killed Martin.
Zimmerman is claiming self-defense, under a provision of Florida law known as "stand your ground": Under this theory, a person is not obligated to attempt to flee from an attacker in order to claim self-defense. The problem with Zimmerman's claim is that he wasn't simply "standing his ground." When he called 911 and reported the "suspicious" Travyon Martin--who was armed with nothing more deadly than a bag of Skittles--the 911 operator expressly told Zimmerman NOT to follow Martin and to stay in his vehicle. When Zimmerman ignored this directive, he was effectively hunting the 17-year-old. So unless Florida's self-defense law also has a "looking for trouble" provision, Zimmerman's claims fall apart. Nevertheless, Sanford police claim that their hands are tied and that they cannot arrest Zimmerman.
Nonsense.
Obviously, there are facts in this case that we do not know; there may well be evidence to support Zimmerman's self-defense claim--possibly even to exonerate him. But the factual evidence of the 911 call--with the operator's explicit command not to follow Martin--certainly calls the self-defense claim into enough question that it should be presented to jury. Anything else will simply exacerbate what is already a grievous miscarriage of justice.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Slippery Slope Watch
I find myself somewhat conflicted by the guilty verdict in the hate-crime trial of Dharun Ravi. For those of you unfamiliar with the case, the (largely undisputed) facts are as follows:
In September 2010, Ravi used a webcam to surreptitiously film his Rutgers University roommate, Tyler Clementi, having sex with another man. Subsequently, Ravi posted the videos on Twitter and encouraged people to watch his roommate "kissing a dude." Tyler found out about the Twitter posts and became, understandably, upset. Three days after the incident, Tyler committed suicide by jumping off the George Washington Bridge.
Now, cause and effect are not at issue here: Ravi was not charged with Tyler's death. While it is reasonable to assume that the video was an aggravating factor in whatever mental anguish Tyler felt, there is no legal case to be made that Ravi caused his roommate's death. Still, the guilty verdict in the trial raises some interesting questions:
Is Dharun Ravi a jerk? Yes.
Is what he did wrong? Yes.
Is what he did illegal? Yes--to an extent.
The jury correctly found Ravi guilty of such crimes as invasion of privacy and evidence tampering (for trying to delete the offending videos from his account). I am not convinced, though, that what Ravi did rises to the level of a "hate crime."
In fairness, I am certainly not familiar with all the facts of the case. Maybe Ravi constantly used anti-gay slurs around Clementi. Maybe some of the twit's tweets encourage people to taunt, tease, or torment Tyler. But none of that was made apparent in today's article about the verdict. Indeed, Ravi's use of the phrase "kissing a dude" hardly qualifies as hate speech. Now, of course, if Ravi used stronger language in other tweets, or if more direct and overt threats or verbal abuse was directed at Tyler because of the videos, then, yes, the verdict was correct--but I'm only going on what I've seen here.
A thought experiment: What if Ravi had filmed a heterosexual roommate having sex with a woman and posted those videos online for everyone to see? Certainly not an unreasonable scenario. In that case, we would probably attribute Ravi's actions to immaturity or titillation. The posting of the videos would not be done BECAUSE the man in the videos was heterosexual--the heterosexuality would have caused the sex, but not the publicizing thereof. One could argue--and I'm sure Ravi's lawyers did argue--much the same thing: that Ravi didn't post the videos because Tyler was gay, but rather because Tyler was having sex, and he, Ravi, thought it would be a hoot to post these videos online.
I am in no way defending Ravi's actions. But we need to tread very carefully when we criminalize behavior and even more when we criminalize thought. And even if we agree that crimes motivated by antipathy towards a group merit special punishment, I'm not sure this motivation has been proven in THIS case. If you are going to penalize--imprison--someone based on his underlying state of mind, then you had better be damn sure that state of mind exists.
In September 2010, Ravi used a webcam to surreptitiously film his Rutgers University roommate, Tyler Clementi, having sex with another man. Subsequently, Ravi posted the videos on Twitter and encouraged people to watch his roommate "kissing a dude." Tyler found out about the Twitter posts and became, understandably, upset. Three days after the incident, Tyler committed suicide by jumping off the George Washington Bridge.
Now, cause and effect are not at issue here: Ravi was not charged with Tyler's death. While it is reasonable to assume that the video was an aggravating factor in whatever mental anguish Tyler felt, there is no legal case to be made that Ravi caused his roommate's death. Still, the guilty verdict in the trial raises some interesting questions:
Is Dharun Ravi a jerk? Yes.
Is what he did wrong? Yes.
Is what he did illegal? Yes--to an extent.
The jury correctly found Ravi guilty of such crimes as invasion of privacy and evidence tampering (for trying to delete the offending videos from his account). I am not convinced, though, that what Ravi did rises to the level of a "hate crime."
In fairness, I am certainly not familiar with all the facts of the case. Maybe Ravi constantly used anti-gay slurs around Clementi. Maybe some of the twit's tweets encourage people to taunt, tease, or torment Tyler. But none of that was made apparent in today's article about the verdict. Indeed, Ravi's use of the phrase "kissing a dude" hardly qualifies as hate speech. Now, of course, if Ravi used stronger language in other tweets, or if more direct and overt threats or verbal abuse was directed at Tyler because of the videos, then, yes, the verdict was correct--but I'm only going on what I've seen here.
A thought experiment: What if Ravi had filmed a heterosexual roommate having sex with a woman and posted those videos online for everyone to see? Certainly not an unreasonable scenario. In that case, we would probably attribute Ravi's actions to immaturity or titillation. The posting of the videos would not be done BECAUSE the man in the videos was heterosexual--the heterosexuality would have caused the sex, but not the publicizing thereof. One could argue--and I'm sure Ravi's lawyers did argue--much the same thing: that Ravi didn't post the videos because Tyler was gay, but rather because Tyler was having sex, and he, Ravi, thought it would be a hoot to post these videos online.
I am in no way defending Ravi's actions. But we need to tread very carefully when we criminalize behavior and even more when we criminalize thought. And even if we agree that crimes motivated by antipathy towards a group merit special punishment, I'm not sure this motivation has been proven in THIS case. If you are going to penalize--imprison--someone based on his underlying state of mind, then you had better be damn sure that state of mind exists.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The Cost of Doing Business
Among the financial shenanihoots that helped bring down the world financial system was a scheme by Citigroup to sell investments that were designed to fail so that the company could bet against them and reap huge profits. The Securities and Exchange Commission took a dim view of this and filed suit against Citigroup. The two parties agreed to settle the lawsuit: Citigroup would pay a $285 million fine, without admitting to any wrongdoing. All that was left was for Federal Judge Jed S. Rakoff to sign off on the deal. Yesterday, however, Judge Rakoff rejected this agreement.
Good for him.
The agreement bothered Judge Rakoff because he was asked, essentially, to serve as a "rubber stamp." Despite the fact that the SEC alleged that Citigroup had committed fraud, the agreement provided insufficient specifics, and the company was not required to admit wrongdoing. Therefore, the judge could not determine whether the agreement was “fair, reasonable, adequate and in the public interest." And about that whole, "Is it in the public interest" question? Let me save you some trouble, Judge Rakoff: It's not.
The judge correctly pointed out that, while $285 million may sound like a lot of money, it's basically pocket change to a company like Citigroup. And paying such a fine--particularly if a settlement does not require a company to admit wrongdoing--can be written off as an acceptable cost of doing business. The SEC wants to settle the cases because the agency worries--understandably--that it cannot win a trial against a company with the vast legal and financial resources of Citigroup. A bird in the hand--or 285 million birds--is worth some even more hefty amount in the bush.
Except it's not.
If the government took Citigroup--or AIG or Bank of America or any of the other malefactors of great wealth--to trial, nobody knows what would happen. The government might very well lose the case. I suspect, though, they might not. And at any rate, going to trial would send a message that the costs of doing business might turn out higher than Citigroup might like to pay. Obviously, these petty-cash fines don't convince the wrongdoers to change their evil ways.
So Judge Jed Rakoff did his job. Now it's time for the SEC to do theirs.
Good for him.
The agreement bothered Judge Rakoff because he was asked, essentially, to serve as a "rubber stamp." Despite the fact that the SEC alleged that Citigroup had committed fraud, the agreement provided insufficient specifics, and the company was not required to admit wrongdoing. Therefore, the judge could not determine whether the agreement was “fair, reasonable, adequate and in the public interest." And about that whole, "Is it in the public interest" question? Let me save you some trouble, Judge Rakoff: It's not.
The judge correctly pointed out that, while $285 million may sound like a lot of money, it's basically pocket change to a company like Citigroup. And paying such a fine--particularly if a settlement does not require a company to admit wrongdoing--can be written off as an acceptable cost of doing business. The SEC wants to settle the cases because the agency worries--understandably--that it cannot win a trial against a company with the vast legal and financial resources of Citigroup. A bird in the hand--or 285 million birds--is worth some even more hefty amount in the bush.
Except it's not.
If the government took Citigroup--or AIG or Bank of America or any of the other malefactors of great wealth--to trial, nobody knows what would happen. The government might very well lose the case. I suspect, though, they might not. And at any rate, going to trial would send a message that the costs of doing business might turn out higher than Citigroup might like to pay. Obviously, these petty-cash fines don't convince the wrongdoers to change their evil ways.
So Judge Jed Rakoff did his job. Now it's time for the SEC to do theirs.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Hush Money
Onetime presidential and vice (snicker)-presidential candidate, the haircut formerly known as John Edwards, was indicted yesterday on charges that he illegally funneled campaign funds to his babymama, Rielle Hunter. Edwards received $925,000 from two supporters to help Hunter with prenatal care and other expenses. Prosecutors argue that these funds should be considered campaign contributions, and that this usage of campaign funds for personal expenses is therefore illegal.
While we have little sympathy for Edwards, we think the prosecutors are reaching here. The contributors, Rachel "Bunny" (Bunny?) Mellon and Fred Baron, knew what Edwards needed the money for when they gave it to him: They were specifically not contributing to his presidential campaign. Prosecutors argue that the money was a de facto campaign contribution because, if the story of the affair had come out at the time, it would effectively have been the end of his campaign. Thanks to this illicit money, though, Edwards was able to carry on his triumphant struggle to finish a distant third in the race for the Democratic nomination.
On the one hand, prosecutors are correct in drawing the conclusion that, had the Hunter story broken during the early stages of the campaign, Edwards' presidential aspirations would have ended then and there. After all, no matter how much Southern charm a politician oozes, there is no way he could survive such revelations of sexual impropriety.
On the other hand, this stretches the definition of "campaign contribution" beyond reasonable limits. Indeed, Edwards seems to have gone out of his way to make sure he was not dipping into campaign funds to support Rielle: That's why he went on the downlow to enlist his friends' support.
Again, we do not justify Edwards' misbehavior. How much sympathy can you have for someone whose legal defense is, literally, "I didn't use the money for my campaign; I used it to hide my pregnant mistress from my wife!" But there is, after all, a huge distance between tacky and illegal.
Solipsistography
"Edwards Charged with Election Finance Fraud"
While we have little sympathy for Edwards, we think the prosecutors are reaching here. The contributors, Rachel "Bunny" (Bunny?) Mellon and Fred Baron, knew what Edwards needed the money for when they gave it to him: They were specifically not contributing to his presidential campaign. Prosecutors argue that the money was a de facto campaign contribution because, if the story of the affair had come out at the time, it would effectively have been the end of his campaign. Thanks to this illicit money, though, Edwards was able to carry on his triumphant struggle to finish a distant third in the race for the Democratic nomination.
On the one hand, prosecutors are correct in drawing the conclusion that, had the Hunter story broken during the early stages of the campaign, Edwards' presidential aspirations would have ended then and there. After all, no matter how much Southern charm a politician oozes, there is no way he could survive such revelations of sexual impropriety.
On the other hand, this stretches the definition of "campaign contribution" beyond reasonable limits. Indeed, Edwards seems to have gone out of his way to make sure he was not dipping into campaign funds to support Rielle: That's why he went on the downlow to enlist his friends' support.
Again, we do not justify Edwards' misbehavior. How much sympathy can you have for someone whose legal defense is, literally, "I didn't use the money for my campaign; I used it to hide my pregnant mistress from my wife!" But there is, after all, a huge distance between tacky and illegal.
Solipsistography
"Edwards Charged with Election Finance Fraud"
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Sowing the Seeds of Destruction
The last ten days have made us seriously question our basic humanity. First, Osama bin Laden gets a well-deserved whacking. Today we read about a neo-Nazi leader, Jeff Hall, who was fatally shot by his ten-year-old son. Now, we do feel bad for the kid. As was the case with Bin Laden, though, we can't help but think Hall got just what he deserved. A leader of the National Socialist Movement, Hall devoted his life to the cause of white supremacy, and even claimed he was willing to die for the cause. He was also busily indoctrinating his son--his eventual killer--in his philosophy of hate.
What's that line about reaping the whirlwind?
We understand that taking a certain satisfaction in the ignominious death of another human being, no matter how loathsome, can at best be understood as scahdenfreude (foreign words always make bad things sound so much classier)--some might go so far as to call us tacky or tasteless. But if death is inevitable--which we've been assured it is--and if we are unavoidably forced to experience the deaths of loved ones and decent people on a semi-regular basis, is it so wrong to find relief in the seemingly karmic excision of human tumors from the body politic?
Solipsistography
"Neo-Nazi Father Is Killed; Son, 10, Steeped in Beliefs, Is Accused"
What's that line about reaping the whirlwind?
We understand that taking a certain satisfaction in the ignominious death of another human being, no matter how loathsome, can at best be understood as scahdenfreude (foreign words always make bad things sound so much classier)--some might go so far as to call us tacky or tasteless. But if death is inevitable--which we've been assured it is--and if we are unavoidably forced to experience the deaths of loved ones and decent people on a semi-regular basis, is it so wrong to find relief in the seemingly karmic excision of human tumors from the body politic?
Solipsistography
"Neo-Nazi Father Is Killed; Son, 10, Steeped in Beliefs, Is Accused"
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
MLK Never Met OBL
Does the fact that we find ourselves profoundly un-bothered by the death--execution, if you will--of Osama bin Laden make us a bad liberal? Understand, we don't revel in his death. When we heard the news, we felt no temptation to run out into the streets, waving a flag, and chanting "U-S-A! U-S-A!" But if forced to choose between "happy" or "less-than-happy" about bin Laden's death, we come down strongly and without the slightest feeling of guilt on the "happy" side.
Many of our friends have shared sentiments from the likes of Martin Luther King about the utter pointlessness of violence. We want to respect our friends' feelings and believe them sincere in their measured responses to bin Laden's death.
At the same time: Really?
What would people have preferred? That Seal Team Six arrest Osama? And then what? A trial? Where would you find twelve impartial jurors in the US? And where would you hold the trial? New York City? Last year, New York authorities objected to holding trials for mid-level terrorism suspects in lower Manhattan on the grounds that security would be unmanageable. How would they manage a bin Laden trial? And if New York couldn't manage it, who could?
Could the international community set up some kind of Nuremberg-like proceedings? Possibly, but there is no chance the US would cede custody of bin Laden to any third party, particularly if this third party (as would likely be the case) foreswore the death penalty. And presumably if, despite all the logistical, jurisdictional hurdles, a trial were ultimately held, the verdict would be a foregone conclusion (if there were the slightest chance of bin Laden's acquittal, the US would never allow a trial to begin. See: Guantanamo). In the meantime, though, we would have subjected ourselves to months--years, probably--of political squabbles, legal wrangling, and angry protest. What happened Sunday night was far more honest.
In the end, we turn to Mark Twain (why not?) for a fitting expression of our own sympathies: "I've never wished another man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure."
Many of our friends have shared sentiments from the likes of Martin Luther King about the utter pointlessness of violence. We want to respect our friends' feelings and believe them sincere in their measured responses to bin Laden's death.
At the same time: Really?
What would people have preferred? That Seal Team Six arrest Osama? And then what? A trial? Where would you find twelve impartial jurors in the US? And where would you hold the trial? New York City? Last year, New York authorities objected to holding trials for mid-level terrorism suspects in lower Manhattan on the grounds that security would be unmanageable. How would they manage a bin Laden trial? And if New York couldn't manage it, who could?
Could the international community set up some kind of Nuremberg-like proceedings? Possibly, but there is no chance the US would cede custody of bin Laden to any third party, particularly if this third party (as would likely be the case) foreswore the death penalty. And presumably if, despite all the logistical, jurisdictional hurdles, a trial were ultimately held, the verdict would be a foregone conclusion (if there were the slightest chance of bin Laden's acquittal, the US would never allow a trial to begin. See: Guantanamo). In the meantime, though, we would have subjected ourselves to months--years, probably--of political squabbles, legal wrangling, and angry protest. What happened Sunday night was far more honest.
In the end, we turn to Mark Twain (why not?) for a fitting expression of our own sympathies: "I've never wished another man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure."
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Pay No Attention to That Elephant
This week, the Times has been running front-page articles about leaked documents from Guantanamo Bay. The stories have detailed various aspects of the ongoing confinement of those swept up in the American "war on terror."
As is known by anyone paying any attention to news since the September 11 attacks, the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay has become something of an albatross for American policy makers. Many of those housed there seem to have little (if any) connection to Al Qaeda or other terrorist groups. Others may or may not have links to terrorists. So little is known for sure, though, that officials in both the Bush and Obama administrations have decided that, while there is not evidence to prosecute them, these detainees are too dangerous to release--or even to transfer to jails on the US mainland.
Lawyers for the detainees have struggled, often in vain, to present evidence on their clients' behalf. Because of national security concerns, much evidence has remained off limits. One would think, then, that the lawyers would be thrilled to comb through this treasure-trove of newly available information. Presumably, they are. The trouble is, they can't use it.
In the latest example of governmental logic at its best, the Justice Department has declared that the Guantanamo documents, although available to anyone with an internet connection or a dollar for the paper, technically remain classified and thus cannot be used by defense attorneys. National security, you know. Which would presumably be more endangered by trained lawyers applying their skills to analyzing these documents than it is by, y'know, just the general public looking at the documents and shaking their heads over the corruption of American ideals they represent.
Your tax dollars at work, folks! Or, in the case of the detainees' lawyers, not at work. All in the name of security.
Solipsistography
"Detainees' Lawyers Can't Click on Leaked Documents"
As is known by anyone paying any attention to news since the September 11 attacks, the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay has become something of an albatross for American policy makers. Many of those housed there seem to have little (if any) connection to Al Qaeda or other terrorist groups. Others may or may not have links to terrorists. So little is known for sure, though, that officials in both the Bush and Obama administrations have decided that, while there is not evidence to prosecute them, these detainees are too dangerous to release--or even to transfer to jails on the US mainland.
Lawyers for the detainees have struggled, often in vain, to present evidence on their clients' behalf. Because of national security concerns, much evidence has remained off limits. One would think, then, that the lawyers would be thrilled to comb through this treasure-trove of newly available information. Presumably, they are. The trouble is, they can't use it.
In the latest example of governmental logic at its best, the Justice Department has declared that the Guantanamo documents, although available to anyone with an internet connection or a dollar for the paper, technically remain classified and thus cannot be used by defense attorneys. National security, you know. Which would presumably be more endangered by trained lawyers applying their skills to analyzing these documents than it is by, y'know, just the general public looking at the documents and shaking their heads over the corruption of American ideals they represent.
Your tax dollars at work, folks! Or, in the case of the detainees' lawyers, not at work. All in the name of security.
Solipsistography
"Detainees' Lawyers Can't Click on Leaked Documents"
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Try a Little Less Tenderness
"The sole American manufacturer of an anesthetic widely used in lethal injections said Friday that it would no longer produce the drug, a move likely to delay more executions and force states to adopt new drug combinations."
"States Face Shortage of Key Lethal Injection Drug"
There's something ironic about the lengths to which the authorities go to conduct "humane" executions. As this article reports, corrections departments in several states face the prospect of running out of sodium thiopental, a component of the three-drug "cocktail" usually administered to end the lives of condemned inmates. The only American company that produces the drug, Hospira, Inc., had planned to produce the drug at an Italian factory; Italian authorities, though, won't allow the company to export the drug if it is to be used for lethal injections. Similar export problems have arisen with other European governments, which are generally opposed to capital punishment.
Whatever your feelings about the death penalty, don't you find something absurd in this conundrum? Heightening the absurdity is the fact that sodium thiopental is the pain-killing component of the lethal injection: After the thiopental, the next two drugs administered are a muscle relaxant and a drug to stop the heart. In other words, states may stop carrying out executions because, without sodium thiopental, the prisoner--presumably, a base and depraved example of humanity--might feel excessive pain before dying.
If the point of the death penalty is punishment--or, indeed, deterrence--then what's the problem if the convicted killer feels pain before dying? If, on the other hand, inflicting a potentially painful death is incompatible with societal values, then isn't any form of judicial execution unacceptable? Honestly, we wonder if, even with sodium thiopental, the execution is truly "painless." How do we know?
We cannot help but think that the surest way to carry out a "painless" execution would be to fire a bullet point blank into the condemned's brain. Of course, the visuals of that would be all wrong. The authorities need to maintain the illusion that what they are doing somehow makes them better than the people they condemn. They aren't.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Going in Style?
In the 1979 movie "Going in Style" (1979) George Burns, Art Carney, and Lee Strasberg play elderly buddies who decide to rob banks.
(Digression: These guys were elderly in 1979, when the Solipsist wasn't even a teenager. Were they ever young? Was Burgess Meredith ever young? Bea Arthur? Just wondering. EOD)
As the presence of Burns and Carney would suggest, the movie was a comedy.
Police in New York and elsewhere didn't laugh, though, when 63-year-old career criminal Arthur Williams, armed with a Saturday Night Special and an oxygen tank (seriously), left his dialysis session and embarked on one last multi-state crime spree. He robbed a loan company in Alabama, an upscale boutique in Manhattan, and two motels in Maryland before engaging in a high-speed chase with police. At the end of the chase, Williams' Cadillac flipped over, throwing him from the car. He died from head trauma.
The moral of the story: Senescent criminal masterminds are hysterically adorable, until someone loses an eye (or, in this case, flips a Caddy).
(Digression: These guys were elderly in 1979, when the Solipsist wasn't even a teenager. Were they ever young? Was Burgess Meredith ever young? Bea Arthur? Just wondering. EOD)
As the presence of Burns and Carney would suggest, the movie was a comedy.
Police in New York and elsewhere didn't laugh, though, when 63-year-old career criminal Arthur Williams, armed with a Saturday Night Special and an oxygen tank (seriously), left his dialysis session and embarked on one last multi-state crime spree. He robbed a loan company in Alabama, an upscale boutique in Manhattan, and two motels in Maryland before engaging in a high-speed chase with police. At the end of the chase, Williams' Cadillac flipped over, throwing him from the car. He died from head trauma.
The moral of the story: Senescent criminal masterminds are hysterically adorable, until someone loses an eye (or, in this case, flips a Caddy).
(Image from imdb.com)
Saturday, May 22, 2010
The Disappeared
From today's Times:
"WASHINGTON — A federal appeals court ruled Friday that three men who had been detained by the United States military for years without trial in Afghanistan had no recourse to American courts. The decision was a broad victory for the Obama administration in its efforts to hold terrorism suspects overseas for indefinite periods without judicial oversight."
In defense of this decision, Sen. Lindsey Graham:
“Allowing a noncitizen enemy combatant detained in a combat zone access to American courts would have been a change of historic proportions. . . .It also would have dealt a severe blow to our war effort. . . There is a reason we have never allowed enemy prisoners detained overseas in an active war zone to sue in federal court for their release. It simply makes no sense and would be the ultimate act of turning the war into a crime.”
Some would say the war already is a crime, but let that go.
In theory, we agree with Senator Graham's reasoning. During World War II, it would have been ludicrous to Mirandize every German soldier taken prisoner after D-Day (especially since the Miranda warning wasn't written until the 1960's).
Our current conflict, however, is not World War II; it's a war on "terror." What are the rules on prisoners captured in a war on an abstract noun?
In a conventional war, anyone wearing the enemy's uniform may be considered fair game for punitive measures, whether of a lethal or judicial variety. Terrorists, however, wear no uniforms. How can a soldier know, then, who is an appropriate target? We accept the fact that soldiers must be cautious--over-cautious--when dealing with potential terrorists. We understand the need to detain potential threats. But then what?
Again, a comparison to a conventional war is in order. At the end of hostilities, enemy POWs are sent back to their home countries. But as has been noted in numerous places, there can really be no "end" to a war on terror. Prisoners of this war will never have the opportunity to be released upon the cessation of combat. Fine for those who were actually engaged in violent, terroristic acts; not so great for the inevitable innocents swept up in the rush of events.
So, how are we to know who is being held appropriately? Simple answer: trials.
Ungainly? Sure. But the logistical difficulty of a solution is no excuse for not undertaking it. To go back to Sen. Graham's point about "turning the war into a crime," we would point out that the acts that provoked this war were, in fact, crimes. The 9/11 attacks were different in degree but not in kind from the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995. After that attack, a massive criminal investigation was launched, and Timothy McVeigh was ultimately arrested, tried, convicted, and executed. The federal government didn't invade Tulsa and start rounding up random Okies.
The American judicial system is based on the idea of "innocent until proven guilty." If prosecutors cannot make their case, detainees (they don't become "prisoners" until after conviction) must be released in a timely manner. It doesn't matter whether they are arrested in Kabul or Kansas.
Mr. President: Find another way.
"WASHINGTON — A federal appeals court ruled Friday that three men who had been detained by the United States military for years without trial in Afghanistan had no recourse to American courts. The decision was a broad victory for the Obama administration in its efforts to hold terrorism suspects overseas for indefinite periods without judicial oversight."
In defense of this decision, Sen. Lindsey Graham:
“Allowing a noncitizen enemy combatant detained in a combat zone access to American courts would have been a change of historic proportions. . . .It also would have dealt a severe blow to our war effort. . . There is a reason we have never allowed enemy prisoners detained overseas in an active war zone to sue in federal court for their release. It simply makes no sense and would be the ultimate act of turning the war into a crime.”
Some would say the war already is a crime, but let that go.
In theory, we agree with Senator Graham's reasoning. During World War II, it would have been ludicrous to Mirandize every German soldier taken prisoner after D-Day (especially since the Miranda warning wasn't written until the 1960's).
Our current conflict, however, is not World War II; it's a war on "terror." What are the rules on prisoners captured in a war on an abstract noun?
In a conventional war, anyone wearing the enemy's uniform may be considered fair game for punitive measures, whether of a lethal or judicial variety. Terrorists, however, wear no uniforms. How can a soldier know, then, who is an appropriate target? We accept the fact that soldiers must be cautious--over-cautious--when dealing with potential terrorists. We understand the need to detain potential threats. But then what?
Again, a comparison to a conventional war is in order. At the end of hostilities, enemy POWs are sent back to their home countries. But as has been noted in numerous places, there can really be no "end" to a war on terror. Prisoners of this war will never have the opportunity to be released upon the cessation of combat. Fine for those who were actually engaged in violent, terroristic acts; not so great for the inevitable innocents swept up in the rush of events.
So, how are we to know who is being held appropriately? Simple answer: trials.
Ungainly? Sure. But the logistical difficulty of a solution is no excuse for not undertaking it. To go back to Sen. Graham's point about "turning the war into a crime," we would point out that the acts that provoked this war were, in fact, crimes. The 9/11 attacks were different in degree but not in kind from the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995. After that attack, a massive criminal investigation was launched, and Timothy McVeigh was ultimately arrested, tried, convicted, and executed. The federal government didn't invade Tulsa and start rounding up random Okies.
The American judicial system is based on the idea of "innocent until proven guilty." If prosecutors cannot make their case, detainees (they don't become "prisoners" until after conviction) must be released in a timely manner. It doesn't matter whether they are arrested in Kabul or Kansas.
Mr. President: Find another way.
Friday, May 14, 2010
A Kinder Murder
The orderly heard Lecter whispering
to him, all afternoon, and Miggs
crying. They found him at bed check.
He'd swallowed his own tongue... .
Lecter did it to amuse himself.
--Silence of the Lambs
If a guy wants to commit suicide, is it illegal to agree with him? Obviously, the answer is no: One can agree or disagree with anything. But what about telling the guy you agree with him? Telling him you think it's a good idea? Encouraging him?
In Minnesota, William F. Melchert-Dinkel, a former nurse, stands accused of assisted suicide. In fairness, the details of Melchert-Dinkel's case make him look less like Dr. Kevorkian than Charles Manson. Melchert-Dinkel, you see, didn't work with terminally ill patients in unbearable pain; he trolled internet chat rooms conversing with the suicidal under a variety of personae. Frequently, he offered advice on the best way to off oneself. He also pretended to be suicidal himself and made suicide pacts with his interlocutors. Authorities can link him fairly definitively to two suicides, one in Canada and one in Great Britain, but Melchert-Dinkel has admitted that he probably contributed to the suicides of several others.
Now, Melchert-Dinkel is undeniably creepy. There's something in his actions reminiscent of Hannibal Lecter's coercing "Multiple" Miggs into his fatal seizure. It makes us wonder, though, about one's legal--as opposed to ethical--obligations to the suicidal. WOS makes the point that people who go to these websites are, whether they admit it or not, seeking help. Even if a person emphatically declares his suicidal intentions, the very act of publicizing these intentions is on some level a plea to be stopped: The truly suicidal don't talk, they do.
So, assuming that Melchert-Dinkel tipped someone's mental balance from salvation to perdition, does that make him guilty in the eyes of the law? We are not so sure, even if the state has on its books a law against assisted suicide. To put it another way, is encouraging someone to kill himself akin to assisting him? And what constitutes "encouragement"? "Go on! Kill yourself. You're worthless, and the world would be better off without you." Probably. "I can see why you want to kill yourself, and it makes sense to me." Gray area. "I don't know. I wouldn't do it, but it's up to you." We think not.
What's particularly troubling about this case is the fact that Melchert-Dinkel didn't just offer encouragement; he pretended to be suicidal himself. He convinced people that he would in some sense join them in their final act. If that was the ultimate factor that convinced these people to take the plunge, does that make Melchert-Dinkel more culpable? Would it have made a difference if Melchert-Dinkel had truly been suicidal but then changed his mind?
On the one hand, this man is nothing more than a serial killer with a fascinating M.O. On the other hand, the authorities need to be wary of decisions that effectively criminalize speech. We know and agree that there must be limits on free speech, such as proscriptions against yelling fire in a crowded theater. But if a theater is already engulfed in flames, and someone decides he wants to stay and burn, is it a criminal act to tell him you think it's a good idea?
to him, all afternoon, and Miggs
crying. They found him at bed check.
He'd swallowed his own tongue... .
Lecter did it to amuse himself.
--Silence of the Lambs
If a guy wants to commit suicide, is it illegal to agree with him? Obviously, the answer is no: One can agree or disagree with anything. But what about telling the guy you agree with him? Telling him you think it's a good idea? Encouraging him?
In Minnesota, William F. Melchert-Dinkel, a former nurse, stands accused of assisted suicide. In fairness, the details of Melchert-Dinkel's case make him look less like Dr. Kevorkian than Charles Manson. Melchert-Dinkel, you see, didn't work with terminally ill patients in unbearable pain; he trolled internet chat rooms conversing with the suicidal under a variety of personae. Frequently, he offered advice on the best way to off oneself. He also pretended to be suicidal himself and made suicide pacts with his interlocutors. Authorities can link him fairly definitively to two suicides, one in Canada and one in Great Britain, but Melchert-Dinkel has admitted that he probably contributed to the suicides of several others.
Now, Melchert-Dinkel is undeniably creepy. There's something in his actions reminiscent of Hannibal Lecter's coercing "Multiple" Miggs into his fatal seizure. It makes us wonder, though, about one's legal--as opposed to ethical--obligations to the suicidal. WOS makes the point that people who go to these websites are, whether they admit it or not, seeking help. Even if a person emphatically declares his suicidal intentions, the very act of publicizing these intentions is on some level a plea to be stopped: The truly suicidal don't talk, they do.
So, assuming that Melchert-Dinkel tipped someone's mental balance from salvation to perdition, does that make him guilty in the eyes of the law? We are not so sure, even if the state has on its books a law against assisted suicide. To put it another way, is encouraging someone to kill himself akin to assisting him? And what constitutes "encouragement"? "Go on! Kill yourself. You're worthless, and the world would be better off without you." Probably. "I can see why you want to kill yourself, and it makes sense to me." Gray area. "I don't know. I wouldn't do it, but it's up to you." We think not.
What's particularly troubling about this case is the fact that Melchert-Dinkel didn't just offer encouragement; he pretended to be suicidal himself. He convinced people that he would in some sense join them in their final act. If that was the ultimate factor that convinced these people to take the plunge, does that make Melchert-Dinkel more culpable? Would it have made a difference if Melchert-Dinkel had truly been suicidal but then changed his mind?
On the one hand, this man is nothing more than a serial killer with a fascinating M.O. On the other hand, the authorities need to be wary of decisions that effectively criminalize speech. We know and agree that there must be limits on free speech, such as proscriptions against yelling fire in a crowded theater. But if a theater is already engulfed in flames, and someone decides he wants to stay and burn, is it a criminal act to tell him you think it's a good idea?
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Know More of Your Rights (A Brief Post)
We see that Blogger has finally decided to post a new "Blog of Note" in the Blogs of Note space. We couldn't help but notice that it wasn't, y'know, US. Still, at least there is, once again, hope.
In other news, according to a recent report on "Stop and Frisk" data from the New York Police Department, black people were significantly more likely to be stopped than white people. According to a chart only 10% of the more than 580,000 stops last year were of white people, while 55% were of blacks.
Racial profiling? Police bias? We didn't think so. But then we saw the form that police must fill out after stopping someone--a form that lists acceptable reasons for stopping and frisking:
1. Resemblance to a suspect
2. Furtive behavior
3. Loitering in front of ("casing") a location
4. Use of the word "hizzy"
5. Other
In other news, according to a recent report on "Stop and Frisk" data from the New York Police Department, black people were significantly more likely to be stopped than white people. According to a chart only 10% of the more than 580,000 stops last year were of white people, while 55% were of blacks.
Racial profiling? Police bias? We didn't think so. But then we saw the form that police must fill out after stopping someone--a form that lists acceptable reasons for stopping and frisking:
1. Resemblance to a suspect
2. Furtive behavior
3. Loitering in front of ("casing") a location
4. Use of the word "hizzy"
5. Other
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Bully Pulpit
Phoebe Prince immigrated to the United States from Ireland last year. As a new girl at South Hadley High School in Massachusetts, she briefly dated the star of the football team, which seems to have incurred the wrath of some of the school's Queen Bees. They subsequently taunted and bullied Phoebe mercilessly. On January 14 of this year, apparently deciding she could stand it no more, Phoebe Prince, age 15, hanged herself.
Now nine students who bullied Phoebe are facing criminal charges. There are calls for the principal of South Hadley and other school officials to resign. Phoebe's family is considering a civil suit against the school district.
Is bullying a crime? Are school officials obligated to police it? To what extent?
To the first question, the answer is, "No." None of the students who took part in Phoebe's torment is being charged with "bullying." They face charges including statutory rape, violation of civil rights with bodily injury, harrassment, stalking, and disturbing a school assembly. (Disturbing a school assembly?) The "statutory rape" is somewhat indisputable; of course, no one claims that Phoebe was anything other than a willing participant in her affair with the football player. The other crimes may or may not have happened and may or may not lead to convictions, but let's face it: If Phoebe hadn't killed herself, these charges would not have been filed. They are a prosecutor's attempts to punish someone for something that cries out for punishment, but for which there is no specific legal remedy.
Nor should there be.
What did these students do? They engaged in the merciless and pointless taunting of a scared young girl. They are jerks. They are heinous. They deserve social ostracism. But what did they do that rises to the level of criminality? On the day of her suicide, one of her tormentors apparently threw a can of Red Bull at Phoebe: That is assault and battery and could be prosecuted as such. Bullying remains a non-crime.
What about the school's responsibilities? From what we read in the newspaper, they were not insensitive to the problems of bullying. Before the incidents involving Phoebe, the school had brought in a consultant to help them deal with the problem of bullying. At least some teachers attempted to reach out to Phoebe. Did they do enough? In hindsight, obviously not. But speaking as a teacher, we are loath to pass quick judgment. If a teacher overheard one of the Queen Bees calling Phoebe a slut, should he have intervened? Probably. But what should he have done? If it were the Solipsist, we would have pulled the name-caller aside and told her to cut it out. But that would be about it. And what if the word hadn't been "slut"? What if it had been "Bitch"? Or "Dumbass"? "Jerk"?
If a teacher sees one student shove another, she can rightfully step in; the pusher could possibly even be suspended--again, it falls under the general category of assault and battery. But what if one student simply knocks the books out of another student's hands? Or slams a locker shut?
We are not trying to be glib. This is a tragedy for Phoebe's family, and we sympathize. We don't have much sympathy for bullies. But teachers and school administrators have more than enough on their plates without having to serve as ad hoc policemen enforcing proper societal behavior. Particularly when the behavior doesn't rise to the level of criminality.
Back when we were in school, the standard advice for dealing with bullies was to stand up to them. This was not just the "code of the schoolyard," either; this was scripture, advocated by everyone from parents to psychologists to after-school specials. Sure, the culture of bullying has grown more extreme (and occasionally weaponized) in the decades since our elementary years. But we still think that, ultimately, the best solution for dealing with those who would demean is to not allow them the pleasure of success.
Phoebe's tragedy arose not only from the meanness of the pack animals who surrounded her, nor solely from the supposed inaction of the school authorities, but also possibly from the lack of a guiding voice--one that woiuld tell her to stand up to her tormentors and not allow them the pleasure of bringing her down.
Now nine students who bullied Phoebe are facing criminal charges. There are calls for the principal of South Hadley and other school officials to resign. Phoebe's family is considering a civil suit against the school district.
Is bullying a crime? Are school officials obligated to police it? To what extent?
To the first question, the answer is, "No." None of the students who took part in Phoebe's torment is being charged with "bullying." They face charges including statutory rape, violation of civil rights with bodily injury, harrassment, stalking, and disturbing a school assembly. (Disturbing a school assembly?) The "statutory rape" is somewhat indisputable; of course, no one claims that Phoebe was anything other than a willing participant in her affair with the football player. The other crimes may or may not have happened and may or may not lead to convictions, but let's face it: If Phoebe hadn't killed herself, these charges would not have been filed. They are a prosecutor's attempts to punish someone for something that cries out for punishment, but for which there is no specific legal remedy.
Nor should there be.
What did these students do? They engaged in the merciless and pointless taunting of a scared young girl. They are jerks. They are heinous. They deserve social ostracism. But what did they do that rises to the level of criminality? On the day of her suicide, one of her tormentors apparently threw a can of Red Bull at Phoebe: That is assault and battery and could be prosecuted as such. Bullying remains a non-crime.
What about the school's responsibilities? From what we read in the newspaper, they were not insensitive to the problems of bullying. Before the incidents involving Phoebe, the school had brought in a consultant to help them deal with the problem of bullying. At least some teachers attempted to reach out to Phoebe. Did they do enough? In hindsight, obviously not. But speaking as a teacher, we are loath to pass quick judgment. If a teacher overheard one of the Queen Bees calling Phoebe a slut, should he have intervened? Probably. But what should he have done? If it were the Solipsist, we would have pulled the name-caller aside and told her to cut it out. But that would be about it. And what if the word hadn't been "slut"? What if it had been "Bitch"? Or "Dumbass"? "Jerk"?
If a teacher sees one student shove another, she can rightfully step in; the pusher could possibly even be suspended--again, it falls under the general category of assault and battery. But what if one student simply knocks the books out of another student's hands? Or slams a locker shut?
We are not trying to be glib. This is a tragedy for Phoebe's family, and we sympathize. We don't have much sympathy for bullies. But teachers and school administrators have more than enough on their plates without having to serve as ad hoc policemen enforcing proper societal behavior. Particularly when the behavior doesn't rise to the level of criminality.
Back when we were in school, the standard advice for dealing with bullies was to stand up to them. This was not just the "code of the schoolyard," either; this was scripture, advocated by everyone from parents to psychologists to after-school specials. Sure, the culture of bullying has grown more extreme (and occasionally weaponized) in the decades since our elementary years. But we still think that, ultimately, the best solution for dealing with those who would demean is to not allow them the pleasure of success.
Phoebe's tragedy arose not only from the meanness of the pack animals who surrounded her, nor solely from the supposed inaction of the school authorities, but also possibly from the lack of a guiding voice--one that woiuld tell her to stand up to her tormentors and not allow them the pleasure of bringing her down.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
No Contest
Last Saturday, a man was arrested after climbing into the grizzly bear enclosure at the San Francisco Zoo. Nobody--human or ursine--was hurt. And no, we have no word on why he did it. We did, however, hear on the news this morning that the man was going to plead not guilty to charges of. . . of. . . Well, OK, we don't know exactly what he was charged with--criminal trespass, we suppose. Or annoying bears. But we were struck by the audacity of a "Not guilty" plea: What's his defense? "I wasn't actually IN the grizzly bear enclosure. You're mistaking me for one of the dozens of other people rounded up in the mass grizzly-bear-enclosure raid!"
"Seriously," we said to WOS, "shouldn't this guy just plead 'No contest,' and move on?"
Then we started to think about what we had just said.
(Digression: Someday we're going to have to start thinking about things we're GOING to say. EOD)
To plead "No contest." That's one of those words and phrases that everybody's heard and many people have probably used, but whose meaning is often marginally understood at best. We knew (or at any rate, suspected) that pleading no contest--no lo contendere in the more satisfyingly legalistic Latin--essentially amounted to saying, "Yeah, I did it"--"It's a fair cop" in the more satisfyingly Python-esque British English. But we also knew (or at any rate, suspected) that it MUST somehow be different from pleading "Guilty."
Well it is! So here, Sloppists, for your edification--and, y'know, perhaps for your use (hey, we don't know what kind of illicit activities you all get up to!)--a minor disquisition on the "No contest" plea:
According to West's Encyclopedia of American Law, nolo contendere is "a plea made by a defendant in a criminal action that is substantially but not technically an admission of guilt." In other words, the defendant does not dispute the facts against him, but, since he has not technically admitted guilt, these facts may (may, not must) not be used against him in other criminal proceedings. We understand that this sort of plea may also not be considered a "strike" under some "Three Strikes"-type laws.
It would seem to us, then, that grizzlyhugger probably SHOULD, in fact, plead "No contest" (assuming he is given that option--some states have no provision for such pleas, and some judges may not accept one). We think that "No contest" is the perfect plea for crimes that are essentially harmless in their effects, and on which municipal attorneys would presumably not wish to spend much time.
Well, y'know, unless the bears are adamant about seeing justice done.
"Seriously," we said to WOS, "shouldn't this guy just plead 'No contest,' and move on?"
Then we started to think about what we had just said.
(Digression: Someday we're going to have to start thinking about things we're GOING to say. EOD)
To plead "No contest." That's one of those words and phrases that everybody's heard and many people have probably used, but whose meaning is often marginally understood at best. We knew (or at any rate, suspected) that pleading no contest--no lo contendere in the more satisfyingly legalistic Latin--essentially amounted to saying, "Yeah, I did it"--"It's a fair cop" in the more satisfyingly Python-esque British English. But we also knew (or at any rate, suspected) that it MUST somehow be different from pleading "Guilty."
Well it is! So here, Sloppists, for your edification--and, y'know, perhaps for your use (hey, we don't know what kind of illicit activities you all get up to!)--a minor disquisition on the "No contest" plea:
According to West's Encyclopedia of American Law, nolo contendere is "a plea made by a defendant in a criminal action that is substantially but not technically an admission of guilt." In other words, the defendant does not dispute the facts against him, but, since he has not technically admitted guilt, these facts may (may, not must) not be used against him in other criminal proceedings. We understand that this sort of plea may also not be considered a "strike" under some "Three Strikes"-type laws.
It would seem to us, then, that grizzlyhugger probably SHOULD, in fact, plead "No contest" (assuming he is given that option--some states have no provision for such pleas, and some judges may not accept one). We think that "No contest" is the perfect plea for crimes that are essentially harmless in their effects, and on which municipal attorneys would presumably not wish to spend much time.
Well, y'know, unless the bears are adamant about seeing justice done.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Catch and Release
Admittedly, sex offenders--particularly those who prey on children--are not the most sympathetic souls. One has difficulty thinking of a group less likely to receive a consoling hug or a shoulder to cry on. Nazis, maybe. Republicans, sure. But, still, one is hard pressed to muster any fellow-feeling for these depraved predators.
At the same time, one is troubled by the proliferation of "notification laws" across the country. ("Case Shows Limits of Sex Offender Alert Programs") You know, those laws that require paroled sex offenders to register with law-enforcement officials wherever they settle and that actively or passively alert the neighborhoods to the danger in their midst. One can hardly blame states and localities from passing such laws. Indeed, we ourselves would want to know if such a person were to move into our neighborhood. (All right, to be fair, the Solipsist just assumes that anybody within shooting distance is probably out to get him anyway, so it wouldn't make THAT much difference, but you get the point.) Still, there's something fundamentally unfair about the concept that a person who commits a crime, pays a penalty (i.e., jail time), and is then released after serving the time, must be forever branded with the scarlet letter of criminal tendency. It's hard enough for ex-convicts to rejoin society, get jobs, get on with their lives--if society has essentially given up on the notion that these people can safely rejoin society, how are they ever to prove that they can be trusted?
Maybe they can't be. But if that's the case, then are we not, as a society, being at best hypocritical by releasing them from prison at all? Look, if citizens truly feel sexual predators are the worst of the worst--and you'd be hard-pressed to find anybody who would disagree with that statement--then why don't we act accordingly? Life sentences for child molesters, rapists, et al. And if you think such sentences too harsh, then do away with the Megan's Laws across the country. You can't have it both ways.
Well, maybe you could. We could just designate a state to which all released sex offenders can be relocated, and then put a big fence around it. Is anyone really using Wyoming? Just wondering.
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