Advocates of capital punishment advance abstract and emotive arguments in its defence, arguments that are all unconvincing. The death penalty is a necessary deterrent, they say. The certainty of death if convicted of a capital crime discourages people from committing crimes in the first place, and it ends their opportunity to harm more innocent people, they argue. Perhaps it does in some cases, although the American experience does not seem to support this. The US has not become a country free of capital crimes since the Supreme Court decided the death penalty was not unconstitutional in 1976. And in all sorts of countries with capital punishment, greed, stupidity and outright evil will drive men and women to commit heinous crimes. Just ask the Government of Singapore. Additionally, to take a life for the pragmatic reason that it may discourage future crimes sends a clear signal that killing is acceptable when it is done by the state in the national interest. Some supporters of capital punishment also argue that the death penalty provides closure to the victims of crime; that people who have been harmed or have lost a loved one will feel the hurt less if their assailant is executed. Once again, perhaps some do. But however this argument is expressed, it is nothing more than a recipe for revenge, an assertion that the state has the right to take an eye for an eye, a life for a life. And, ultimately, revenge is always an act applied by the powerful against the helpless. It is victor's justice - and more often than not it is no justice at all. From the earliest legal codes, murder has always been forbidden. And if killing is wrong, it is more so when done by the state.

The case for capital punishment fails for many reasons, but above all because it is inhumane and unnatural. It is in human nature to preserve, not take, life. Certainly, wholesale slaughter in war and civil strife is an indisputable fact of history. The genocides and mass murders ordered by Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot and all their evil ilk demonstrate that when states order their citizens to kill, many willingly obey. The record of lynchings in Mississippi during the 1920s, of murderous mobs in Soweto in the 1980s, demonstrates what happens when the protection of the law is not applied to all. But such enormities do not obscure the fact that people have always been appalled by close-quarter killing. In every century, soldiers have had to be conditioned for close-quarter combat. And for all the images from centuries past of crowds delighting in torture and public executions, stable communities have never enjoyed watching the routine mutilation and murder of helpless indiv iduals. Execution is repugnant to us all.

From the 18th century on, as the idea that ordinary people had inviolable rights took hold, nations began to reject state-sanctioned murder. One reason for British settlement of Australia was public discomfort with the prospect of wholesale execution of the enormous number of men and women convicted of capital crimes. Today, with the outrageous exception of the US, nations where political power depends on the electoral assent of the governed are likely to have abandoned capital punishment. And as more and more nations embrace democracy, they will abandon the contradiction of forbidding individuals to kill but allowing the state to commit murder. To assert that states that murder criminals are backward and brutal may offend many nations with which Australia enjoys excellent relations. Tough. It is true.

All passion spent Australia has not failed Nguyen Tuong Van

WHILE the execution of Nguyen Tuong Van this morning is wrong – for all the reasons stated above – most Australians, and the Australian Government, have taken a measured approach to the specifics of his case. They have been correct to do so. Given the furore that has been whipped up around poor Van in certain quarters, it would be easy to come to the mistaken conclusion that the Singaporeans were persecuting a saint, not a sinner. Without for a moment compromising our compassion for Van's bereaved mother, Kim Nguyen, we need to be clear on both the foolishness and the serious criminality of the acts that landed Van in Changi prison. Van had enough heroin strapped to his body when he was arrested at Changi airport in 2002 to fetch upward of $500,000 on the streets of Australia. This is more than 10 times as much as would have been required to settle the debts of his twin brother, Khoa, himself a convicted criminal. Heroin addiction is a serious problem in Aust ralia. Every day, it tears families asunder, ends young lives long before they have fulfilled their promise and places untold pressure on our hospitals and police. It is important, too, to remember that Van knew full well what he was doing when he took his grievous gamble and lost. If there were not a terrible risk involved, why would he have imagined that carrying a parcel from Cambodia to Australia, via Singapore, could reap such a huge financial reward?

On both sides of the Australian parliament, political leaders have behaved diligently and honourably in their efforts on behalf of Van. Opposition foreign affairs spokesman Kevin Rudd has added Labor's voice to the Howard Government's appeals for clemency and yesterday paid generous tribute to the tireless efforts of Foreign Minister Alexander Downer. Mr Downer and John Howard were quite right to resist the urgings of those who wanted us to adopt a more strident posture on the Van case, and in doing so place our close and highly valued relationship with Singapore under threat. That would not only end up multiplying many times over the damage this case has wrought, but it would also be counter-productive. Stridency on Australia's part would only harden the positions of Singapore and our other Southeast Asian friends and neighbours on the issue of capital punishment. Again for the reasons stated above, we believe the tide of history is overwhelmingly against capital punishment, and in due course the penalty will be wiped from the face of the earth. But that will occur as a result of constructive dialogue and a sharing of values between different cultures; it will certainly not occur as a result of the falling-out of former friends and a mutual retreat to bunkers.

As noted repeatedly in this column (and on the page opposite,) the Van case has inspired a variety of silly and tasteless outpourings from various quarters, including among Howard-haters and the Left. We, naturally, respect the right of all Australians to mark the moment when this sad and tragic event takes place in their own way – or not. On the other hand, a mandated minute of silence – given that we reserve this custom to honour our fallen in war – would be tasteless and inappropriate. Suggestions that Mr Howard or Mr Downer should have cancelled their engagements last night or this morning are simply foolish. But perhaps silliest of all has been the idea that the Australian Government somehow compromised its credentials to appeal for clemency for Van because it did not do so for the Bali bombers. Those bombers were not Australian citizens, but the cold-blooded murderers of Australian citizens. It is not the business of any Australian government to take up their cause. In fact, if we thought there were any exceptions to the barbarity of capital punishment as a sanction – and we don't – it would be in the case of those such as Amrozi, Mukhlas and Imam Samudra. The monstrosity of their crime puts Van's in perspective.

The Howard Government has not questioned Singapore's right to apply its own laws, and neither should it. We have simply, repeatedly, unavailingly begged for clemency. It must be added that Van himself has added no fuel to the fire of the stupidest claims made about his predicament in Australia, and on all reports has accepted his fate with dignity. If this whole appalling mess has a single worthwhile outcome, it will be to discourage any other Australians from attempting to use or smuggle illicit drugs in Asia. It would beggar belief if, following Van's case – and Schapelle Corby's and Michelle Leslie's and the Bali Nine's – any person could still consider, even for a moment, a similar course of action. Such a person would have precious little claim on the sympathy of their fellow Australians.


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