Flawed Reasoning for Opposing the Death Penalty

ACT MP Law & Order spokesman David Garrett writes on his blog about why the death penalty would not work in New Zealand in response to an article by Cactus Kate calling for the death penalty to be introduced with recent posterboys including psychopath Clayton Weatherston who killed his girlfriend by stabbing her 216 times.

As some readers will know, I have in the past (prior to my involvement with ACT) advocated a return of the death penalty for our worst murderers – the Bells, the Rufus Marsh’s  and the Burtons.

After ten years reflection, I have now changed my view somewhat. While most people wouldn’t have much of a problem if Bell or Burton were executed, as a matter of public policy it becomes very problematic.

Having lived in a country where the death penalty remains on the books as a discretionary sentence for murder, I can say with some certainty that one of the results of having a capital sentence even as an option  is what lawyers call “perverse verdicts” by juries unwilling to convict because they know or believe the person concerned will be executed, and they cannot cope with that on their collective conscience.

The question of whether or not the death penalty would be enforceable or workable should come after the discussion on its justification. To rule out bringing in the death penalty because some juries were emotionally compromised is a pragmatic response to the issue. Garrett states that life without parole (LWOP) is probably a worse penalty than being sentenced to death, and he's probably right - but a worse penalty for who? With New Zealand's tax-payer funded prison system, incarceration is merely a no-frills holiday with a varying range of lifestyle options including low-paid work, education and drug-use. That's not to trivialise some of the abuse that goes on within prisons however the real question here is, why should society suffer twice at the hands of the offender. First when the offender commits a crime deemed worthy of LWOP, and then second when they pay for his existence until death.

A Famous Person Has Died...

John Campbell (no, not that one) has done a comic on the media coverage of Michael Jackson's tragic and untimely death which is simply marvelous...

From One Ex-Abortionist to Another...

Dr. Bernard Nathanson

Dr. Bernard Nathanson committed over 75,000 abortions before eventually being convinced that abortion was murder, and becoming an outspoken pro-lifer. LifeNews.com reports on his comments regarding the killing of late term abortionist George Tiller who was responsible for well over 60,000 abortions.

"I knew George Tiller years ago when I was on the pro-abortion side," he told the Washington Times. "He came to a course I was giving in the technique of abortion in New York in 1970 under the auspices of NARAL. And I did late-term abortions until I changed my opinion as of 1980."

"My switch to pro-life had nothing to do with religion," he told the newspaper.

"Tiller was a church-going man, which doesn't say a whole lot in this country, but one wonders why he never changed his mind based on the scientific evidence. That is where I changed my mind, based on fetoscopies and ultrasound studies," Nathanson added.

"Once we had ultrasound in place, we could study the fetus and see it was a member of our community. If you don't do that, you're just a creature of political ideology. In 1970, there were approximately 1,100 articles on the functioning of the fetus. By 1990, there were 22,000. The data piled up swiftly and opened a window into the womb," Nathanson continued.

hat tip: Semper Vita

Nature Abhors a Vacuum

...following on from my post on the meaning(lessness) of life, this from MercatorNet...

There has been a lot of talk about greed on Wall Street in recent months, but the greed of Black Friday shoppers in the United States takes some beating. Wall Street barons may have done some wicked things, but have they, individually or en masse, physically trampled anyone to death?

That is what some main street New Yorkers managed to do last Friday in their frenzy to bag bargains at a Wal-Mart store on a day designated the “start of the holiday-shopping season” -- once known as Christmas shopping.

Before rushing ahead with “the moral of this story is” observations, let’s pause to take in exactly what kind of death 34-year-old shop worker Jdimytai Damour died. A shrieking mob of fellow human beings burst through the front doors of the store, knocked him down onto the linoleum tiles and streamed right over him and around him, injuring him and robbing him of air. He was a hefty man, 6-foot-5 and 270 pounds, but he died of asphyxiation.

It is an horrific death. Imagine the shock and terror of being hit and enveloped by that tsunami of solid flesh, pounding feet and frenzied voices -- your last conscious image of the human race...

...Nature abhors a vacuum. If people have nothing higher to fill their imaginations and get them out of bed in the morning than a super-discounted 42-inch flat screen television -- or, for the Wall Street crowd, a luxury yacht and a subtropical retreat -- that is what they will go after. The death of Jdimytai Damour shows where that spiritual poverty leads. It is not the only sign, of course, but it is a compelling one, and a call to action for all those who value the transcendent dimension of the human being.

Click here to read the entire article.

9/11 Lest We Forget

September 11, 2001. 2,974 innocent civilians massacred.

Below is a short story I wrote about the morning of the news that the World Trade Centers had been hit by aeroplanes - The World was a different place after that morning.

We Dashed Inside
Andrew Moore, age 15, secondary home school, Strowan Learning Centre

"Shall we get up early and go rabbit hunting Josh?"
"Hmm..."
"C'mon, please"
"Oh, all right" Joshua set the alarm clock to 5 a.m in the morning, September the eleventh. Little did we know, that when we woke, the world would be a different place; people would shudder, when an aeroplane flew over head, would be afraid to travel by air.

To set the scene, I will wind the clock back one day. The next day was Lydia's birthday. As usual we would celebrate September 11 or so we thought. Lydia couldn't wait. The rest of us frantically scurried around, cleaning, tidying, and in general, making the place somewhat more acceptable for the anticipated party, on the morrow. Simon and I would not be present, however, as we were going to stay at our friends house, out in the country, and his sisters were coming in, to Lydia's birthday party. I saw Mum manufacturing a massive chocolate cake, which she was drowning in purple icing, and smothering with all kinds of mouth-watering lollies, etc.
"Phew". At last the place was presentable. I dashed upstairs and packed. Next morning, after the customary rite of bestowing gifts upon our sister, we dined on Hubbard's muesli, and all the extra's you get on someone's birthday. I staggered down the hall, as I heard our friends coming: I'd eaten well. The girls got out and speedily disappeared into Lydia's room. Simon and I heaved our bags into the boot. We were off.

At last we arrived at the farm. We mucked around all day till teatime and to cut a long story short, we went to bed. Josh's room was in a sleep out, so we went out there. We read for a while, then turned off the lights and pretty much chatted the night away. Some one was talking. It didn't sound like anyone I knew.
"Ahhh".
It was the radio, Josh had programmed the alarm clock to turn the radio on at five a.m. I was sleepy and my zest to go rabbit shooting was lacking it's former zeal. I tried to get back to sleep but Joshua was muttering, groaning, and I, only half-pie listening. I heard someone going on about a catastrophe of some sort but thought "there's always some new disaster". All I was interested in, was bed. I dozed off a bit. (Yawn). Josh was still paying attention to what the reporter was saying.
"What is it Josh?"
"Shhh!"
I got myself up onto one elbow and then began to realise the awful dimensions of this atrocious disaster. "Whaa-?", "Man!", and "Far out" was all that was said for the next five minutes, then I found myself pulling on my jeans and following Joshua into the house across the gravel driveway. I tried to hop from one clump of weeds to the next, because in my bare feet, the sharp stones stung me, and brought me to full consciousness. We dashed inside...

Well, it's the seventh anniversary of that terrible event. And it's also my sister Lydia's birthday once again. Happy Birthday Lydie!

An Australian Crime

I hold my head in my hands.

This is absolutely disgusting, a 12-year-old girl was left without food or water to die in the backyard of her foster home, delirious with pain and unable to move.  Give me a break, she was just 12 years old!  Below is an excerpt from the article (30 July) at www.theaustralian.news.com.au,

"Mr Coates said Ms Reynolds was a "stubborn" woman who insisted the child had sustained a sports injury which would improve with exercise. When the girl refused, Ms Reynolds would "smack her leg with a stick".

"(The child) was unable to stand unassisted and when she was forced to she would just fall to the ground," Mr Coates said during opening submissions.

"When assistance was not forthcoming to help her to the toilet she would urinate and defecate in her clothes where she lay."

Mr Coates said social workers who visited the three-bedroom Palmerston home - which housed 17 people - the day before the death found the child lying on the kitchen floor crying.

When she was told to have a shower she struggled to walk and had to use the walls for support. Mr Coates said the jury would also hear evidence that, hours before her death, the girl was "punished" for soiling her clothes and taken out to the backyard.

"The children were told they were not allowed to help her get food or drink," he said.

"You will hear evidence from children who were out playing in the yard that later in the day (the girl) began to talk about fairies and witches and she said a limousine was coming to pick her up ... (The girl) said yeh, I can see the light now, and she just stopped breathing."

From what I understand of the story, there were fifteen foster children housed in a home, looked after by two sisters (Toni Melville, 43, and Denise Reynolds, 42) in Palmerston, Australia.  It is painfully obvious that they were incompetent as carers, and this tragic situation should have been intercepted much earlier.  The frustrating irony is the cases where good foster parents have been refused foster-children due to their stance on homosexuality, child-discipline or the like.

This case brings to mind the 2007 film, An American Crime an eerie portrayal of exactly this kind of abuse.  And the recent case of the murdered Kahui twins, where at the end of lengthy court proceedings and public outcry, no-one was ever charged for the death of these poor little boys who never got a chance.  I thought the Anti-Smacking Law was supposed to sort out New Zealand's child abuse problem...

"Ms Bradford [sponsor of Anti-Smacking Law] says parents need to accept that it is no longer legal to hit children. She remains confident her anti-smacking laws will change what she describes as a culture of violence." - Newstalk ZB, 15/01/08

However, Bradford said back in 2007,

“The epidemic of child abuse and child violence in this country continues – sadly. My bill was never intended to solve that problem.” - National Radio - 21 Dec 07

Instead of the growing international trend to criminalise good and loving parents for giving their child a smack, let us rather crack down on the real child abusers.  While governments persist with their totalitarian, socialist, nanny-state agenda, the number of child abuse cases can only increase as increasingly, good parents are pushed out, setting the scene for horrific new cases of child-abuse and neglect to mar the front page of your morning paper.

(hat tip, NZ Conservative)

5-12 Memorial

I was walking through Cathedral Square today, at around 5:30pm. Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis was playing through a powerful set of speakers in the back of a van parked near the Cathedral. I was drawn to the group of people who were now gathering around ...something, I couldn't see so I went up closer. Candles in clear plastic glasses were being laid out on the tiles of Cathedral Square. A memorial service for those who lost their lives in the terrible earthquake of Sichuan, China on 12 May this year. And an opportunity for us to show our support for those who survived, to stand beside them as they attempt to rebuild their lives.

"The death toll from the China earthquake has reached 60,560 and could rise to 80,000 or more, the Chinese government said today." - Guardian

I was handed a candle of my own. A sober-faced young chinese man pulled out his gas-lighter and lit it for me.

Two young Chinese people stood by the microphones. The man addressed the crowd in Chinese, followed by a translation from the woman. The stilted English made this even more moving than it would otherwise have been - the heartfelt message coming through strongly, despite the many grammatical mistakes. After being given an overview of the situation, another lady was invited to take a microphone on the steps at the base of the cathedral, and deliver her "mourning speech". This was a heart-rending speech - and if I knew Mandarin I'm sure I would have let a tear or two escape. The volume was up very loud and the pained voice of the speaker echoed from the surrounding buildings.

The size of the group grew, and I looked around me at my Chinese brothers and sisters. I was one of the few "white people" present. It must be so hard for them, they're here, and there's not much they can do to help, they're so far away from home.

When Minister of Commerce, Lianne Dalziel took the microphone I decided it was time to head home. I handed my candle to a man standing at the back of the crowd who hadn't managed to get one, and deep in thought, made my way to the bus exchange.

Chengdu Earthquake, an Inside Look

I received another email from my friend in China, offering a chilling insight into the devestating earthquake which has just taken place in Chengdu, China.

"...form the day before yesterday to today we nearly sleept a couple of hours , because our dorm was damaged a little and we fear others dangerous

unknown countless earthquake will happen soon, , so we spent the endless night in our playground and badmiton hall (siince the rain became extreamly heavy ) . we dare not to sleep , each possible tiny shake of the earth made us run out of form the buliding we hiding , some people get a little hurt from them including me..

my hometown was badly damaged ,many people died even including our vice mayor ,since any supply had been cut down in our hometown,,I cant contact with my dad , and i m worride about him.

I know I shoulnt complaint too much,comparing with many other people , im lucky enough , my best friend's friend 's all of her family (9 people)died .she is the only one alive.

during the time we spending , we can do nothing but waiting , darkness, sleepless , hopeless and hlepless. i still remember the suddenly strong shake of the building where we had a class in at that moment , our teacher shouted to us "RUN !JUST RUN!"we dashed outside and we began to lose banlence......."

And an excerpt from an article at www.globeandmail.com -

The 7.8 magnitude quake, centred in Sichuan province, struck in the middle of the school day yesterday and toppled at least eight schools. Chemical-laden factories and at least one hospital collapsed, trapping hundreds more, state news media said.

The death toll appeared likely to climb in China's worst earthquake in more than three decades as troops struggled on foot to reach the worst-hit area of Wenchuan, some 100 kilometres from Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan province...

..."Not one minute can be wasted," Mr. Wen said. "One minute, one second, could mean a child's life."

The rescue team (picture)

In Memory of Baby Miles Ash

I very rarely pick up Christchurch's largest newspaper, The Press. This is due to my general dissilusionment with most mainstream forms of media - but this paper in particular, thanks to it's strong undertones of pro-Government spin. Even less often do I glance at the Family Notices page. However, tonight, intrigued by the several adverts featuring colour pictures of happy couples, I took a look.

Baby Miles Ash's birth notice was the first in the Births column, and read...

Craig and Briar, parents of baby Miles Regan, born on April 17, 2008, at National Women's Hospital (6lb 6oz). Very proud of our precious wee angel.

Very Much loved
wee boy
you will always be
in mummy and
daddy's hearts
and you will always be
in our thoughts,
wondering what
you're doing.
We will miss you
with everything we've got
and can't wait to meet
you there.

Love Mum and Dad

I was confused. This looked more like a death notice than a birth notice. Was it in the Births column? Yes. They must have got it wrong, a mistake... I continued reading down the Births column - and then glanced over at the Deaths. Second on the list was 'Ash, Miles'.

With disbelief and growing sadness, I read the death notice for baby Miles Ash.

17/04/08 - 19/04/08

Dear baby Miles. A very cherished well loved wee man who will be held in our hearts forever.
Love always - Aunty Jess, Uncle Jeremy, and cousins Jaeda and Breana

The poor wee thing only lived for three days. Isn't it amazing, a little boy was born, and two days later he was dead. We all take life for granted so much of the time. Let's stop and think and be thankful for the time we have been given. And let's also remember that we have not been guaruanteed another minute of our lives. In Psalm 39, King David writes...

“LORD, make me to know my end,
And what is the measure of my days,
That I may know how frail I am.
Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths,
And my age is as nothing before You;
Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor.
- Psalm 39:4-6