MAY 7 ― In the last two weeks or so, Australians citizens, Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran became household names, as they were turned into saints, whilst Indonesia became the sinner. Denounced and castigated, Indonesia has had to face severe backlash from several countries, over and above allegations of judicial corruption and a President that plays to the politics of his gallery. In fact, as Australia recalls their ambassador to Jakarta in a self-vindicating measure, the image of President Jokowi Widodo with photo-shopped blood-smeared hands remains vivid in the minds of many. 
Whilst Australia, together with several other countries begged Indonesia for mercy, the question that is prompted is ‘What was the argument for the plea for clemency?’
The main lamentation of hard-core opponents of the death penalty is that the situation is rendered irreversible if the men executed were in fact subsequently found to be innocent.
However, that argument may not hold much water in the cases of Chan and Sukumaran, bearing in mind that there was not a shred of doubt about their guilt. They were both co-ringleaders of the heroin-smuggling operation from Indonesia to Australia. They both had recruited seven other members (collectively known as the Bali Nine) to assist in their drug-related operations. In fact Chan and Sukumaran had facilitated the operation by providing money, airline tickets and hotels to the seven drug mules. And ironically, it was the Australian Federal Police that had provided the Indonesian authorities with the tip-off regarding the drug-related activities of the Bali Nine.
Was the plea for clemency based on the fact that they had already languished in prison for 10 years, and that in itself was sufficient punishment? After all, Australian Prime Minister, Tony Abbot seemed to think that in those 10 years, Chan and Sukumaran had rehabilitated, but then again, what else could Abbott say? In any event, the rationale for the punishment for drug trafficking is not and has never been rehabilitation.
Was the plea of clemency premised on the perception that the method of execution by firing squad was deemed inhumane? Again, is execution by any method more humane than the other? Would it have made any difference if they were hanged, or killed by lethal injection?
Was the plea of clemency based on the opinion of the Australian Government that the offence of drug trafficking was not grave enough to warrant death? In fact, it revived the great debate of whether the death penalty is really a deterrent for drug traffickers. After all, in some countries, drug possession has been decriminalised. So, does that mean that countries which impose the death penalty for drug trafficking offences should rethink their priorities and policies?
I am not one to rhapsodise about the justice of abolishing the death penalty, but I definitely will not take umbrage if it is removed altogether. In fact, the gut-wrenching scenes of anguish, especially those of Raji Sukumaran (Sukumaran’s mother), and Febyanti Herewila (Chan’s wife), would not have left anyone with a dry eye. No parent or spouse deserves the harrowing experience of losing a loved one, not even to state-sanctioned killing.
However compassion has to be consistent and transparent, for to perpetrate an inconsistency in granting clemency, would by itself have created an injustice. In showing Chan and Sukumaran mercy, was Indonesia expected to grant clemency to every single prisoner on death row, regardless of the offence? Would that result in Indonesia having to abolish the death penalty once and for all? And if Indonesia did that, would that mean that all countries in the world should follow suit, including the US? Would any country, even Australia, dare tell the US how to manage its affairs? I doubt it.
So, many are left to ponder on whether the emphasis on Chan and Sukumaran was simply reduced to the fact that most found it unpalatable that the executed were Australians and the executioner, Indonesia?
The execution of Chan and Sukumaran has drawn parallels to other traffickers executed for similar offences in Malaysia (Barlow and Chambers, 1986) and Singapore (Van Tuong Nguyen, 2005). In fact it brings back memories of the browbeating that Malaysia had to endure in 1986, when Australian citizens, Kevin Barlow and Brian Chambers were executed, with the executions being labelled as ‘barbaric’. Was it barbaric because it was the death penalty, or because it was death by hanging, or simply because Barlow and Chambers were boys from Down Under, and the executioner was Malaysia.
In a very partial, yet interesting piece published on 20 February 2015, by the Herald Sun: Hangings of Kevin Barlow and Brian Geoffrey Chambers in Malaysia destroyed families’ lives, the author Bruce Dover (a former correspondent who covered the case from the arrest of Kevin Barlow and Brian Chambers to their hanging), claimed that even after the death sentence had been pronounced Barlow and Chambers, a family member of one of the prisoners quipped in disbelief, “They don’t hang white men in Malaysia, do they?”
Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran may not have been White, but they were Australians nevertheless. On that note, I wonder if Indonesia would have been goaded into accepting Western prescriptions of justice and mercy had Chan and Sukumaran NOT been Australians or Westerners, for that matter?
For those who disagree, let me then ask you if these names ring any bells: Tran Thi Bich Hanh, Rani Andriani, Daniel Enemuo, and Namaona Denis? I doubt it. But why are these names not etched in our memory, bearing in mind that they were also drug traffickers executed in Indonesia in January 2015, for similar offences.
And what about Martin Anderson, Jamiu Owolabi Abashin, Sylvester Nwolise, Okwudili Oyatanze and Zainal Abidin Badarudin? No? After all, they were the four Nigerians and an Indonesian who were executed at the same time as Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran for similar drug-trafficking offences. But do these names ring a bell amongst us?
Again, I didn’t think so.
* This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail Online.
