'Thirst for death'
By Carlos Isagani T. Zarate

WHILE channel-surfing late Thursday night, I ended up switching between GMA's "Debate" and ABS-CBN's "Dong Puno Live." Both channels featured very emotional and heated discussions on the issue of death penalty. Relatives of crime victims and representatives of rights advocates, anti-crime watchdogs, politicians, students, academicians and the masa were there. The shows reminded me of the mixed feelings I had more than a year ago on that issue.

On January 6, 2002, a heinous crime court in Davao City convicted A.M. for robbery with homicide and sentenced him to death. A.M. was a member of a group that "massacred" two sisters and a househelp during a robbery. His four other co-conspirators however are still at large. When the death sentence was pronounced, I saw A.M. shaking and murmuring, protesting his innocence.

As the private prosecutor, I was convinced of his guilt. Yet, just like A.M., when I heard the words "death penalty," I was dumbfounded. As an anti-death penalty advocate, it was for me a very awkward moment.

On the other hand, my clients, the parents of the victims, were jubilant that justice had been done. Apparently they noticed my reactions when the sentence was read. I explained to them my personal convictions on death penalty. Over lunch, we had a spirited talk. The victims' father, a devout Catholic, admitted that it is against his religious conviction to wish for one's death. But, he added, the senseless loss of his two daughters in 1999 drained him emotionally. He said his views may change later, but that day he was just pleased that A.M. was already a candidate for lethal injection.

His wife, though, said that a conviction of their children's killers was enough for her.

In last Thursday's television debates, the pro-death penalty camp repeated the decades-old argument that the death penalty is a deterrent to crimes. Others went to the extent of accusing the pro-life camp of being "criminal lovers." Notwithstanding the emotionally charged exchanges, nothing can hide the fact that after the execution of seven convicts, the "crime-deterrent claim" appears to be a fallacy. The government's own statistics show a continuing upsurge of criminality. More than a thousand convicts are currently on death row, including 29 women and seven minors.

Indeed, a decade after the death penalty was re-imposed on January 1, 1994, this may be the opportune time to rekindle a serious and wide-ranging debate on the issue. This is one issue that should also define the way by which a candidate must be measured--from the position of the president down the line. So far, among the presidential candidates, only former education secretary Raul Roco and actor Fernando Poe Jr. have declared their categorical stand against the death penalty. President Macapagal-Arroyo, while professing to be a devout Catholic and pro-life, already had a change of heart. The de facto moratorium on execution, imposed by former President Joseph Estrada in March 2000 in observance of the Christian Jubilee Year, has been lifted by Ms Macapagal, who is apparently anxious of losing the support of business and the anti-crime groups. Incidentally, these pro-death penalty groups being courted by the President are also among the natural constituents of Senator Panfilo Lacson.

While the Catholic Church is leading the charge in the fight for the abolition of the death penalty, it may be well for the Church to review her stand on "collaborative criticism" with the Macapagal administration, in light of the latter's stand on the execution of convicts not covered by the 30-day reprieve issued by the Supreme Court. It may be well, too, for the Church, particularly the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines led by Davao Archbishop Fernando Capalla, to exert collective efforts and moral suasion among the members of Congress for the passage of pending bills calling for the abolition of the death penalty.

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Ironically, while so much attention was focused by the media and anti-death penalty groups, particularly the Church, to stop the execution of Roberto Lara and Roderick Licayan, very little was heard of the continuing execution of crime suspects by the dreaded Davao Death Squad.

For the month of January alone, nine deaths have been attributed to the shadowy vigilante group. Their victims included two minors involved in petty thief, a youth gang member and a street "barker."

During a rally last Friday in front of the Davao City Police Office, members of the Coalition Against Summary Execution (CASE) heavily criticized the local police and Mayor Rodrigo Duterte for failing to put a stop to the killings despite a huge peace and order budget. Critics have dubbed Davao City as the "City of Death." As of December 15 last year, CASE recorded at least 109 victims, including 11 minors killed by the DDS.

In 2002, CASE recorded at least 60 victims. The killings turned up for last month's Chinese New Year celebration a unique greeting: "Sa Davao, Kung Choy Fatyon" (loosely translated: In Davao, if one is a crime suspect, he gets killed).

One need not look deeply to realize the creeping "culture of death and violence." Many people seem to take the vigilante killings as "normal."

As aptly noted by the former CBCP president, Archbishop Oscar Cruz, in criticizing the reinstatement of the death penalty, a government that is incapable of keeping law and order and one that "thirsts for the death even of criminals is not human."

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