On 19 April 1995, 7000 lbs of explosives detonated alongside the Alfred P Murrah Federal Office Building in Oklahoma City. Without warning the bomb punched a gaping hole through offices and a daycare centre, killing adults and children; 163 died inside the building, four more died outside, and a final victim was killed entering the scene to help the wounded.
Timothy McVeigh, despite his earplugs, heard the deafening roar of the blast and felt the thump of air lift him an inch off the ground. Falling bricks hit him in the leg and a snapped live wire threatened his life. McVeigh, who lit the fuse creating the bloody, horrifying, hideous scene behind him, did not look back. He first saw the devastation via CNN and was momentarily irritated at the sight of the building still standing.
McVeigh is scheduled to die via lethal injection on Monday 11 June, barring further delay. The large number of survivors and those with deceased relatives who wish to see McVeigh die led attorney general John Ashcroft to rule that 250 selected people be allowed to watch the execution via closed circuit television. McVeigh has suggested it would be a good idea to televise his death live for all to see and the company Entertainment Network Incorporated has filed a suit for the webcast rights.
You may be tempted to ask: what next? A lottery for the right to push the syringe plunger? But the argument for televising McVeigh’s execution is not frivolous. Execution is committed by the state in the name of the people. Why should it be mysterious and hidden from view? Much of the argument against televising state executions comes from a low opinion of the public. Some, we are told, will view McVeigh as a martyr; others will demonstrate extreme bloodthirsty satisfaction; still others will be traumatised. Part of this is true, but we are being naive if we think that not broadcasting McVeigh’s execution will deter those oddballs viewing him as a martyr, and honesty demands we accept some part if execution is the opportunity for revenge. Executions are brutal, they involve the deliberate killing of a human being, and if we cannot stomach seeing this then perhaps we should not do it at all.
So far the only debate there has been about the McVeigh execution has been about whether or not it should be broadcast. This issue is the only show in town. There has been no wider or more serious debate out the death penalty itself. In a nation so certain that McVeigh should die, opponents of the death penalty are easily overwhelmed. McVeigh has expressed his own eagerness to be executed and few wish to discourage him. Questions such as “Who is Timothy McVeigh?” and “Why did he do it?” have been muffled and the issue of whether he can be “reformed” or “saved” completely ignored.
This situation is perhaps understandable but deeply regrettable. McVeigh is not some “psychokiller” beyond the bounds of civilisation but is part and product of our society and we should be concerned about his life. As revealed in the book American Terrorist (Regan Books, 2001), McVeigh was a highly decorated soldier who fought in the Gulf war. He ultimately viewed the Gulf as an unfair fight, a hi-tech turkey shoot rather than a war, and he abandoned a promising career in the army.
A smart kid, still in his early 20s, McVeigh could not find appropriate work. He drifted around gun shows, sucking down their outdated, paranoid, conspiratorial, and simply bizarre brand of politics. Events at Waco confirmed his nascent view of the federal government as an oppressive apparatus systematically removing liberties from ordinary Americans.
His disgust at a bullying government took an uneasy turn towards the need to hit back with something big: a death count high enough that the government would notice, stop, and listen. He had learnt from the American military that a massive death toll could strike fear into the heart of any despot or tyrant and he had learnt to dismiss civilian casualties as unfortunate but necessary “collateral damage.” McVeigh walled off his emotions and drove to the federal building not, in his mind, as a sadistic killer but as a soldier entering battle. Later psychiatric assessment of McVeigh portrayed him as an essentially good person who did a truly terrible thing.
Many of the victims’ family members have said that they wish McVeigh could show remorse, accepting that his actions were depraved. With psychiatric help there is the hope that McVeigh might eventually pull down his emotional wall and conclude his opinions and actions were fundamentally immoral. He may offer insight as to how a young man could drift so dangerously far from reality. This will not happen while he is on death row and clearly not once he is killed. McVeigh’s atrocity was born out of our world and one day he could be a reformed character, but it seems we are going to kill him anyway. Perhaps that should be televised for posterity and for us.
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