It has been fifty-five years since a criminal was executed in the Republic of Ireland. Yet, during my short stay in Japan over the summer, three men were put to death by this state. While I was in a car heading from Kobe to Toyooka, convicted murderers Hiroshi Maeue, Yukio Yamaji and Chen Detong were hanged until dead. The smokescreen of a rich, technological and westernized country hid from me the inhumane methods used to deal with rapists and murderers, and the hospitable, unassuming and peace-mongering nature of the Japanese people fooled me into believing they would not tolerate such unnecessary cruelty. Yet, capital punishment still prevails.
At a cultural exchange programme at Chuo University in Tokyo, I spoke to Japanese students of my age. We discussed international relations and attitudes to social issues, but I was most curious to ascertain their views on capital punishment. I asked them to put up their hands if they favoured state execution of serial murderers. All hands went up.
Noticing my surprise at the amount of support, one of the students told me that over 75% of the Japanese public advocate capital punishment in the most extreme cases. He explained to me that strong punishment is required to deter their repetition, and related to me how the Japanese value strong law and order and are proud of their peaceful society made possible by zero-tolerance policies. It is not an ideal solution to prevent murder, but is essential for families of victims who demand justice by having their loved one’s death avenged.
I completely understood their argument. If my mother or father were murdered, I’d imagine that I would want to see the killer behind bars, and maybe even dead. However, what if the accused were innocent? Can the deaths of ten guilty people justify that of one innocent person? No. I do not think so. A miscarriage of justice is an even greater crime than the original crime itself.
“Listen,” said the guy who spoke before. “In 1995, there was a sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway. Twelve people died and many more were injured.” He paused, as if to make sure I had absorbed what he had said. “When something like this happens, something has to be done.”
Emile Durkheim argued that crime is an important factor that consolidates society, as it brings people together in opposition to a common evil. In this way, the death penalty is a public condemnation of murder and upholds a general moral order, which contributes to social solidarity. This student was telling me that capital punishment was important for bringing a society together in pursuit of justice.
I question whether this justice could be championed if the person executed were actually an innocent father or mother. Could society function if it was stained with blood in such a public way? Could people trust the penal system if it mistakenly murdered someone who was completely innocent?
I thought of the famous case of the Guildford Four. Innocent people, although not executed, spent half their adult lives in prison. This was due to the need for the British government to find a scapegoat for the IRA bombing of a Guildford pub in 1974. These people and their families suffered for many years for no good reason. The government cannot give them back those years, and if a Japanese government were to execute an innocent person, they could not begin to compensate for that person’s life.
These thoughts were on my mind so that I could not help but raise the topic later as I was having dinner with my host family. At first, my host mother was silent, but she soon described how inmates spend years on death row before being hanged. This is a double-sided coin. On the one side, the length of detention and opportunity for appeals help to ensure that execution is not carried out too lightly. On the flip side, physical abuse and sleep deprivation during interrogation can weaken detainees to the point of confessing to a crime they did not commit. Thereafter, the prolonged stress of waiting for death can instil a sense of helplessness and paranoia that has an adverse impact upon the inmate’s mental health. Limited contact with family, lawyers and even fellow inmates can drive them over the edge. They have no friends. They do not even have a TV for company. Should a convict be denied basic human rights? Is such suffering really deserved?
Even though I have left Japan, I have not left behind concerns for how many more prisoners will die on death row. The belief that losing one’s life is a commensurable punishment for taking someone else’s is understandable. It is unsurprising that the families of murdered victims want justice. However, I was not persuaded of the merits of capital punishment. Surely, justice is not a synonym for punishment, but also includes the prospect of rehabilitation. Society will continue to breed murderers if it does not offer the opportunity for actual and potential criminals to learn to live as civil citizens. Punishment is a necessary deterrent, but reintegration of past criminals is important too. Also, the idea that the wrong person is convicted and imprisoned is too much of a nightmarish injustice to face, never mind the possibility that they might be put to death by the same laws they have abided by their whole life.
There are some promising signs that Japan will change its death penalty status. Keiko Chiba, a graduate of the same university I visited during my time in Tokyo, has now the responsibility for the death penalty. She is the new Minister of Justice since she took up her post with the DPJ-led government in September, and she is known for her outspoken opposition to capital punishment. If she can convince the Japanese public of the irony that one of the most industrialized nations on the planet still retains the death penalty, then there is hope that the Japanese penal system will embrace positive change. Until then, over a hundred inmates wait, wondering in fear whether tomorrow morning will be the last time they see the rising sun.
