by John M. Curtis
(310) 204-8700

Copyright January 12, 2003
All Rights Reserved.

urning the death penalty on its head, lame duck Illinois Gov. George Ryan went over the top, commuting the sentences of all 167 of his state's death row inmates. Ryan called for a moratorium in 2000 on all executions, citing that the Illinois death penalty laws were hopelessly flawed. "Our capital punishment system is haunted by the demon of error—error in determining guilt, error in determining who among the guilty deserves to die," said Ryan, making a sweeping generalization about death penalty cases, while preaching to the choir at Northwestern University Law School. "This is a blanket commutation," explained Ryan, commuting 164 death row cases to life in prison without the possibility of parole and three to 40 years behind bars. Ryan abused his clemency authority under Illinois law, culminating a three-year feud with his state's legislature, unwilling to radically overhaul capital punishment laws.

      Ryan's move was hailed by opponents of capital punishment, yet falls pitifully short of making his case. His fiat says little about the merits of the death penalty and volumes of how governors arbitrarily trash prevailing laws. "Gov. Ryan has fired a shot that will be heard around the world and I think it will hasten the end of capital punishment," said Stephen B. Bright, director of the Center for Human Rights. Capital punishment was abolished in Europe partly because its states sponsored history's worst genocides. Issuing life sentences doesn't automatically erase the rationale for capital punishment, any more than the death penalty rules out life sentences. Ryan talks about how an error-prone system predisposes criminals to face unjustifiable sentences at the hands of zealous prosecutors and ignorant jurors. In reality, juries recommend death penalties to judges for careful review and final approval.

      Unlike Europe, the Second Amendment gives U.S. citizens the right—and responsibility—to bear arms. Because the overwhelming majority of murders are committed with handguns, it makes the death penalty necessary to deter homicide. Without handguns and with lower murder rates, it's easy for Europeans to condemn capital punishment. With existing U.S. gun-laws, all citizens must take more responsibility—and pay the ultimate price—for abusing the privilege. Ryan's action negates the responsibility of convicted killers to take the constitution seriously when using firearms. Whether South African Nobel laureates like Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu cheer Ryan's actions doesn't make blanket clemency appropriate for U.S. law. Though controversial, the death penalty remains the state's only deterrent against capital crimes.

      Ryan justified sweeping clemency on what he viewed as the failure of the Illinois legislature to reform capital punishment. "The legislature couldn't reform it," Ryan told faculty and students at Northwestern University Law School. "Lawmakers won't repeal it. I won't stand for it. I had to act . . . I am commuting the sentences of all death row inmates," thumbing his nose at existing laws. What Ryan can't stomach is that top county prosecutors have exclusive say over whether defendants get the death penalty. He also found troubling a Chicago Tribune study indicating that Illinois capital cases used evidence from jailhouse informants—and 25% of defense attorneys had previously suspended licenses or eventually got disbarred. Inadequate defense counsel represents the best argument against capital punishment, since most public defenders lack the resources—and motivation—to mount a rigorous defense.

      Powerful realities and sound legal reasoning doesn't justify trashing existing death penalty laws. Ryan makes some good points but it doesn't give him license to circumvent the Illinois legislature and courts. "A big mistake," said incoming Democratic Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich. "You're talking about people who have committed murder," reminding Ryan how he trashed victims' families ordering wholesale clemency. Ryan contends that overly zealous prosecutors together with defendants' inadequate resources undermine fair trials. Ryan's reasoning applies to any and all civil or criminal matters. Since minorities are disproportionately poor, they represent a growing group of defendants facing capital crimes. Ryan contends that low socioeconomic defendants lack the resources needed to mount serious defenses. For that reason alone, he believes poor defendants can't receive due process.

      No governor—or president—should abuse their clemency power to make political statements about controversial legal and social issues. No matter how one opposes the death penalty, the executive branch shouldn't engage in de facto legislation by fiat, trashing the legislative and judicial branches. "I never intended to be an activist on this issue," said Ryan, unwilling to allow another wrongful execution under his watch. Ryan went over the top commuting 167 death row inmates before leaving office. While capital punishment remains controversial, Ryan took a solemn oath to uphold the laws of Illinois, not arbitrarily legislate his morality from the statehouse. If he really believes that county prosecutors display unequivocal bias, he should file complaint with the attorney general's office. Differential treatment—for rich and poor—is a fact of American life, whether it involves the death penalty or not. As for Ryan, he was out of line.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He's editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

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