Has a proven “deterrent” effect
on other (would-be) drug traffickers, demonstrated by Singapore as testament to
this claim?
According to Astari Anjani and Dimas Muhamad, a duo representing the
Indonesian Foreign Affairs Ministry, capital punishment is a “vital”
tool for “saving Indonesia from [its] drug scourge.”
Last week, Anjani and
Muhamad penned a dubious column for the Jakarta Globe, in which they celebrated
President Jokowi’s continued use of the death penalty as “an important part of
our comprehensive strategy to win the war on drugs.”
Surprisingly, Anjani
and Muhamad did not limit their argument to the classic fallacy of “appealing
to emotion,” as do many supporters of the death penalty, including President
Jokowi. Instead, the authors attempted to put forward a legal and empirical
case for capital punishment, suggesting that “despite many claims to the
contrary, several studies have affirmed the deterrent effect of the death
penalty.”
I will deal with
Anjani and Muhamad’s tenuous legal and empirical claims in a later article, but
in this response, I would like draw attention to some of Anjani and Muhamad’s
basic misconceptions of illegal drug markets, and their failure to grasp why
illegal drug use is, at least at present, much more dangerous than need be.
Fallacy No.1: Drug traffickers kill
drug users
Having to argue this
point over and over really is a chore. But for those readers, like Anjani and
Muhamad, who still fail to see the difference between a “murder” and a
drug-related “accident,” allow me to spell it out once again.
Anjani and Muhamad
began their article with a very unhelpful epithet: “Bloodless murderers,” they
announced, “is the term that Kamaluddin Lubis, a prominent activist, once used
to describe drug dealers — arguing that they ought to be executed for their
crimes. To some such a label might be over the top, but it succinctly portrays
this man’s misery: drug abuse claimed the life of one of his sons. And he is
not alone.”
Granted, drug abuse
does the claim the lives of a tiny minority of illegal drug users. But let’s be
clear about why this is allowed to happen, and why it looks set to continue.
The problem lies not
with the traffickers; they, just like beer and cigarette companies, are merely
supplying dangerous substances to a consenting and desiring market. Of course,
you may not condone that drug traffickers break the law, and you may despise
the substances they deal in, but you have no grounds on which to accuse them of
“murder.”
In a court of law, the
charge of “murder” is not taken lightly. Before a defendant can be convicted of
murder, the court must establish, beyond reasonable doubt,
premeditated lethal intent as the motive of the crime.
In the case of drug
trafficking, however, lethal intent is clearly not the motive. The courier who
attempts to smuggle a parcel of heroin or methamphetamine through
Soekarno-Hatta airport, for example, is not motivated by depraved thoughts of
dead heroin users, or suicidal meth addicts. The courier is simply looking to
make a quick buck.
As I argued previously
in the Jakarta Globe, drug traffickers do not intend to kill their
patrons, just as tobacco barons do not intend to kill smokers. And if
you accept the latter half of this claim, Anjani and Muhamad, then you simply
must admit the former. A drug trafficker is no more a “bloodless murderer” than
the CEO of a large tobacco company — and to claim otherwise is to uphold an
obvious double standard.
The main problem that
we face today is not drug traffickers, but drug prohibition itself. Prohibition
has gifted us a perfect, flawless framework for a totally unregulated illegal
drug market, in which a small number of accidental drug deaths are sure to
occur, purely for lack of oversight.
Let’s be honest about
it: our drug laws are the real menace here. They ensure that recreational drug
markets are kept in a permanent state of anarchy, and they ensure that drug
users never really know exactly what’s in their product. This is
precisely what puts innocent lives needlessly in danger, and this is precisely
what leads some drug users to overdose accidentally.
The UK’s recent
“Superman” pill tragedy offers a fine example of our illogical drug laws in
practice, and a clear proof that prohibition is part of the problem, not the
solution. (I take this example from the UK mainly because it is current and
well-reported, though we can be sure that similar tragedies have taken place in
Indonesia. The case of Jicky Vay Gumerung immediately springs to mind.)
Three men each bought
a pill, bearing the “Superman” logo, sold to them as ecstasy (MDMA). All three
men had taken ecstasy before, were familiar with its effects, and felt
comfortable taking the drug again. What the three men didn’t know, however, was
that their pills contained a dangerous adulterant known as PMA
(para-Methoxyamphetamine).
Like MDMA, PMA also
has stimulant properties. But unlike MDMA, PMA is significantly more toxic and
up to 10 times more potent. Thus, after ingesting an unknown, lethal dose of
PMA, all three men died as a result of overheating. Needless to say, if the
three men had actually taken MDMA — a much safer drug with proven
psychotherapeutic uses — their deaths could have easily been prevented.
Anjani and Muhamad,
surely you can see reason here: Imagine if each of those three men had
purchased a pure ecstasy tablet from a legitimate chemist, complete with a
contents label, dosage information, and a directions booklet — just like the
painkillers we all take for a cold or flu — do you think the men would have
misused the pills so haphazardly as to result in an accidental overdose?
Probably not.
Consider the inverse,
also: Imagine if each of the three men had been aware that their pill contained
a lethal quantity of PMA. Do you think they would have swallowed the pills
anyway? Well, obviously not; not unless they sincerely wanted to kill
themselves, (which is not the experience that most ecstasy users are looking
for).
Indonesia’s leaders
must accept that drug users are sensible and rational people just like the rest
of us. Most drug users would like to enjoy taking drugs as safely as possible,
in a safe environment, and they most certainly don’t want to overdose. But for such
tragic accidents to be avoided, drug users need to know exactly what’s in the
pill or powder before them. Sadly, however, thanks to prohibition, this is an
unlikely possibility.
Regulation and harm reduction
I’m sure you have
noticed, Anjani and Muhamad, that everything we produce for human consumption —
whether it’s poultry, fruit juice, chickpeas or paracetemol — is legalized and
regulated, precisely because of the potential harm that such items can cause to
consumers.
I trust you have also
noticed that we tend to subject the most dangerous legal substances —
such as alcohol and tobacco — to the most stringent restrictions and
regulations. Why is this so?
Well, in the case of
alcohol and tobacco, we certainly don’t want minors to have uninhibited access
to, say, cigarettes or vodka; and we don’t want fellow adults to die of
methanol poisoning after chancing it with homemade moonshine such as oplosan.
So we have in place
some rules and regulations that help keep these substances inaccessible (at
least in theory) to the most vulnerable members of society, and we ensure that
there is a controlled market for professionally produced alcohol or tobacco, so
that our fellow citizens are not tempted to experiment with oplosan or
a bizarre form of homemade kretek. This is all perfectly good
practice, of course, and there is no reason why such regulations should not
also extend to soft drugs such as cannabis and ecstasy.
Just think: who in
their right mind would support a system in which wine or beer has to be
produced at a secret location, sold on to shady, unaccountable middlemen, and
finally served to the consumer in an unmarked bottle that could have come from literally
anywhere? Very few people, I expect. And very few policy makers, likewise.
So why, then, when we
have all of these commonsense precautions for legal drugs like alcohol and
tobacco, must our leaders insist that our entire market for all other drugs
remains totally unregulated?
At the end of their
article, Anjani and Muhamad “commended” President Jokowi’s administration for
“not turning its back on Kamaluddin Lubis and millions of others [drug users
and families] who have gone through unspeakable misery.” The sad irony is,
however, that by continuing to enforce prohibition, the government is doing
exactly that — turning its back on the most vulnerable people that use drugs,
and pushing them further into the hands of dealers and traffickers.
By continuing to
enforce drug prohibition, the government is gifting the entire market to
criminal gangs, and allowing them to cut corners with cheap adulterants,
sometimes with fatal consequences. But rest assured, Anjani and Muhamad, that
if every single drug user knew exactly the substance, dosage and purity of the
drug before him, we would have very few drug deaths on our hands, and very few
of those “bloodless murderers” among us.
There are many ways to
“save the drug user,” as the National Narcotics Agency (BNN) once put it, but
capital punishment is certainly not one of them.
Patrick Tibke is a Jakarta-based writer and a recent graduate of the
Southeast Asian Studies program at SOAS, University of London. His interests
include human rights, labor rights and drug policy.
This is the first of a two-part series. The second part is here.
A Rebuttal to Two Death
Penalty Advocates
Ignorance or
Deception? An op-ed by two Foreign Ministry staffers defending the use of the
death penalty for drug crimes falls flat in both its appeal to empirical data
and its appeal to international law, which does not consider trafficking a
capital offense, the author argues
An official from the Attorney General’s Office announcing there will be
no clemency for Australian drug traffickers Myuran Sukumaran and Andrew Chan.
(AFP Photo/Bay Ismoyo)
Astari Anjani and
Dimas Muhamad, a duo representing the Indonesian Foreign Affairs Ministry,
believe that the death penalty is the right punishment for convicted drug
traffickers.
Last week, in an opinion piece
for the Jakarta Globe, Anjani and Muhamad described the death penalty as a
“vital” tool for “saving Indonesia from [its] drug scourge,” and an “important
part of our comprehensive strategy to win the war on drugs.”
At the beginning of
their article, Anjani and Muhamad argued that drug use “claims lives,” and that
drug traffickers should therefore be put to death as recompense. “Bloodless
murderers,” the authors explained, do not deserve to live; not after all of the
drug-related deaths that they have caused.
Having dealt with this
fallacy in a previous article, I now propose that we turn to consider some of
the authors’ less emotive arguments for the efficacy and fairness of the death
penalty. Bear in mind, however, that Anjani and Muhamad’s entire case for
capital punishment does seem to hinge on precisely the above claim — that all
convicted drug traffickers are somehow culpable for thousands of deaths, and
must therefore be punished in kind.
It seems to me,
therefore, that if we refuse to grant Anjani and Muhamad the above claim —
which we most certainly should — then the rest of their argument is rendered
null and void. However, knowing that Anjani and Muhamad are bound to disagree
with such an early victory proclamation, I think it is only fair that we hear
out the rest of their case, in the interests of leaving no stone unturned.
Legal and empirical claims
Following their
opening reference to “bloodless murderers,” Anjani and Muhamad went on to argue
for the death penalty on the basis of: One, an appeal to empirical data, and
two, an appeal to international legal norms.
Both of these
arguments fail to present a compelling case for the death penalty, albeit for
different reasons. First, Anjani and Muhamad’s appeal to empiricism — i.e. the
claim that the death penalty has a proven “deterrent” effect — is both
impossible to establish and quite obviously superseded by greater evidence to
the contrary. Second, Anjani and Muhamad’s appeal to international legal norms
was — to put it mildly — entirely composed of some convenient fantasies.
The authors argued
points one and two in that order, but in the interests of saving the best for
last, I shall begin with point two, the appeal to international law.
“One can argue that
capital punishment is not effective enough or inhumane,” Anjani and Muhamad
rightly conceded, “but when all is said and done every country has the
sovereign right to prosecute criminals in accordance with its national laws and
international law norms that it agreed to.”
All perfectly true.
But then in comes the fiction:
“Article 6 of the
International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which Indonesia
has ratified, allows the death penalty under certain conditions, which
Indonesia has met …
“The death sentence
can only be imposed for the most serious crimes, and Indonesia deems drug
trafficking to fall into this category. Despite the debate on what is
meant by ‘the most serious crimes,’ the ICCPR’s preparatory works show that the
omission in defining the term was intended by the negotiating parties to leave
room for state-specific interpretation [emphasis added].”
The notion that there
is still an ongoing debate as to the meaning of the ICCPR’s term “most serious
crimes” is a total falsehood. In fact, all United Nations legal entities have
confirmed that drug trafficking is an economic crime, committed for financial
gain, and does not result in a direct loss of life. Drug offenses, therefore,
do not meet the criteria of a “most serious crime.”
In 1984, in a document
titled “Safeguards Guaranteeing Protection of the Rights of Those Facing the
Death Penalty,” the Economic and Social Council of the United Nations proposed
a clear definition of the term “most serious crimes.” That definition, which
was later endorsed by the UN General Assembly, established that a “most serious
crime” must result in an “intentional” and direct loss of life, thereby
excluding economic crimes such as drug trafficking.
Later, in 1997, the
United Nations Special Rapporteur on Extrajudicial, Summary or Arbitrary
Executions clarified that the term “intentional” should be “equated to
premeditation and should be understood as [a] deliberate intention to kill.”
Even the United
Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) has long recognized that drug
trafficking is not a lethal offense, and that this distinction is clear under
international law. In 2010, for example, the executive director of the UNODC
confirmed: “UNODC advocates the abolition of the death penalty and calls upon
member states to follow international standards concerning prohibition of the
death penalty for offenses of a drug-related or purely economic nature.”
In addition to the
three examples cited above, three other United Nations legal entities have
confirmed that executing citizens for drug offenses is in direct contravention
of Article 6 (1) and Article 6 (2) of the ICCPR.
This position has been
echoed, over the years, by the United Nations Human Rights Committee (2005 and
2008); the UN Special Rapporteur on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or
Degrading Treatment or Punishment (2009); and the UN Special Rapporteur on the
Right of Everyone to the Enjoyment of the Highest Attainable Standard of
Physical and Mental Health (2010).
The ICCPR, as I am
sure Anjani and Muhamad are aware, was adopted almost half a century ago, in
1966, and brought into effect in 1976. Needless to say, during the intervening
half-century up until now, the United Nations has indeed rigorously studied and
debated the terms of the ICCPR. But that debate is well and truly over — as far
as capital punishment for drug offenses is concerned — and for Anjani and
Muhamad to claim otherwise is either plain ignorance or calculated deception.
Either way, both the
letter and the spirit of the law are now abundantly clear: Under no
circumstance may a signee to the ICCPR take the life of a citizen following conviction
on a drug offense.
Statistics
Moving swiftly on to
Anjani and Muhamad’s second line of argument — the appeal to empirical data —
here we confront a whole new set of fallacies.
Anjani and Muhamad
believe that executing drug traffickers really does “work.” They believe that
capital punishment has a proven “deterrent” effect on other (would-be) drug
traffickers, and they point to the proud example of Singapore as testament to
this claim.
“Despite many claims
to the contrary,” the authors explained, “several studies have affirmed the
deterrent effect of the death penalty. A Wall Street Journal article mentions
that every execution of a murder convict prevents 74 murders in the following
year. And in Singapore, which applies the death penalty, the number of drug
offenders has declined by two-thirds since the 1990s.”
Anjani and Muhamad’s
initial claim is entirely false. In the United States, capital punishment for
convicted murderers appears to have no correlation whatsoever
with homicide rates. In fact, if there is any correlation at all between
execution and homicide in the United States, it most certainly cuts in the
opposite direction. In the year 2000, for instance, the New York Times reported
that “10 of the 12 states without capital punishment have homicide rates below
the national average [...] while half the states with the death penalty have
homicide rates above the national average.”
This is all quite
besides the point, anyhow, for sentencing murderers to death is not the same as
sentencing drug traffickers to death. Conveniently, those who support the death
penalty for convicted murderers need only look to one statistic to try and
“prove” that capital punishment works: i.e. the homicide rate. Does it go up,
down, or stay the same?
In many ways, however,
the much-vaunted “deterrent” effect of executing drug traffickers is not just
more difficult to establish; it is impossible to establish.
How exactly are we
supposed to know when the execution of one drug trafficker has successfully
“deterred” another from committing the same crime?
Defenders of capital
punishment for drug trafficking are thus confronted with a vast array of
possible “success indicators,” all based on statistics, but none of which can
really prove that the death penalty actually works.
Consider it this way:
What would be the tell-tale sign that capital punishment deters drug
traffickers?
Could it be a decrease
in the total number of drug users? A decrease in drug arrests and drug
seizures? A combination of these two things? Or is it safer to just assume that
the more drug traffickers we kill, the more drug traffickers we deter?
There really is no
reliable success indicator for the policy of executing drug traffickers. Even
if we caught a hundred traffickers tomorrow, and promptly executed every single
one of them, at what point could we honestly say to ourselves: “Aha! Now we
know for sure that those executions did the job! Now we know for sure that
hundreds of others have been deterred!”
Strictly speaking, it
is impossible to tell whether capital punishment deters drug traffickers,
because it is impossible to establish a causative link between — think of it
this way — the execution of drug trafficker A, and the deterring of would-be
drug trafficker B.
Just imagine: how
would a research paper aim to demonstrate the existence of such a link? Where
would the researchers look to assemble a sample group of safely “deterred” drug
traffickers? And how would they question the samples: “On a scale of one to 10,
how much did the death of drug trafficker A convince you that drug trafficking
is not your dream job?” Clearly, the supposed “deterrent effect” that capital
punishment has on other drug traffickers is not a testable hypothesis.
So the debate as to
whether the death penalty “deters” others should really end here, at an obvious
impasse. But, once again, in the interests of leaving no stone unturned, I will
try to consider the issue through the same lens as Anjani and Muhamad, and take
their success indicators to be as instructive as they make out.
Suffice it to say,
then, that Anjani and Muhamad’s empirical case falls down on at least two
counts: One, as mentioned above, Anjani and Muhamad commit the fallacy of
presuming correlation implies causation. And two, they can only point to a mere
handful of societies that bear out their hypothesis.
For Anjani and Muhamad
to win the empirical case, they would need demonstrate that most of the
countries that uphold the death penalty for drug offenses also have very low
rates of drug use and/or drug seizures, just like Singapore. But clearly this
is not the case.
The vast majority of
the world’s statistics on drug use and drug seizures suggest that there is no
correlation between capital punishment and prevalence of drug use or drug
trafficking.
Consider Iran, for
example, a country with some of toughest and most brutally applied anti-drug
laws in the world. In 2010 and 2011, Iran executed more than 500 people each
year for drug trafficking. And yet, in 2014 a UNODC report claimed that 6
percent of Iranians — some 4.6 million people — are addicted to an illegal
drug. This is probably the highest addiction rate out of any society on Earth,
and yet Iran is second only to China in the amount of drug offenders it
executes each year. (China considers all statistics on capital punishment to be
a state secret, though there is anecdotal evidence to suggest that China does
indeed execute more drug offenders than Iran.)
Many other examples
that do not meet the requirements of Anjani and Muhamad’s hypothesis are much
closer to home; right under our noses, in fact, on the Southeast Asian
mainland.
Myanmar, for example,
keeps a mandatory death sentence for drug traffickers, but in 2013 still
managed to produce 89 percent of Southeast Asia’s opium crop, from 60,000
hectares of poppy fields.
Thailand, likewise, also
retains legal provisions for executing drug traffickers, and yet still has huge
problems with drug smugglers entering from Myanmar, and soaring rates of
methamphetamine addiction. Just last year, Thailand’s Office of the Narcotics
Control Board (ONCB) estimated that 1.3 million Thais — or 2 percent of the
country’s total population — are addicted to an illegal drug. Additionally,
Thailand is known to have around 150,000 so-called “drug addicts” detained at
controversial, compulsory treatment centers, undergoing military drills in the
name of “rehabilitation.”
Similar
non-correlations between capital punishment and rates of drug use and drug
trafficking can be found in Laos, Vietnam, China and Malaysia. Each of these
states still upholds the death penalty for convicted drug traffickers, and yet
each of these states still has a thriving market for illegal drugs,
particularly meth.
Clearly, then, capital
punishment has no observable effect on rates of drug use, and does not appear
to “deter” drug traffickers from targeting these most dangerous markets. So why
should Indonesia buck the trend?
Anjani and Muhamad —
and President Jokowi — please take note.
Patrick Tibke is a
Jakarta-based writer and a recent graduate of the Southeast Asian Studies
program at SOAS, University of London. His interests include human rights,
labor rights and drug policy.