Death for Tsarnaev

Today, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was sentenced to death for the Boston Marathon bombings of 2013.

I honestly didn’t see this coming.

The death penalty is unconstitutional and highly unpopular in Massachusetts. Victims and their family members have spoken out, asking that Tsarnaev be given life instead. And one juror’s vote against the death penalty is all it would have taken for the sentence to have come back as life in prison.

But Tsarnaev has been sentenced to death.

In the end it is perhaps a greater mercy.

Despite the dreary specter raised by “death” – I imagine a ghastly figure quietly welcomed to suck away Tsarnaev’s cold soul as the the solemn sentence is proclaimed – our system provides numerous protections to safeguard those facing this most monstrous fate.

Safeguards which those only suffering life in a dank, dreary hole don’t enjoy.

Tsarnaev’s case will automatically be appealed.

Lifers get no such privilege.

So perhaps death is a greater mercy.

Had I been a juror in the case, I can’t say what I would have done. Life or death? Death or life?

When you can’t tell which is the greater punishment it is hard to choose.

And this is not all about Tsarnaev. Imagine any trial, any defendant, any case where the crime is great enough to come down to the question: life or death?

Death or life?

When you can’t tell which is the greater punishment, there is something substantially wrong.

How can we choose, for Tsarnaev, for anyone – how can we possibly choose? Life or death. Death or life.

We cannot. Not in good conscious. We cannot know what sentence is right or just when we cannot even tell which sentence is harsh and which sentence is mercy.

We must step back, we must reevaluate the whole system. We must fix this institution which takes the lives and deaths of so many of our fellow citizens.

We can discuss what we hope to accomplish – what outcomes we hope for from punishment or from rehabilitation. We can discuss what is good and what is right, and we can seek to find the best justice we can.

But regardless of your philosophy on the way our criminal justice system ought to work, it seems clear to me that it doesn’t work –

Not when you can’t tell the difference between life and death.

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Two Concepts of Public Art

The current issue of Public, the on-line journal of Imagining America, a consortium of universities and cultural organizations dedicated to strengthening the public and democratic roles of arts, humanities, and design, includes a conversation I had with Carlton Turner, head of Alternate ROOTS, a cultural organization, facilitated by Erica Kohl-Arenas, an activist-scholar at New School, "Working the Frontlines of Imagination and Civic Education."

The conversation and debate - Turner and I had different views of the role of art in social change, although we found areas of agreement as the conversation proceeded -- prompted me to think about two different concepts of public art. Public art, including a variety of forms of cultural production such as storytelling, aims to have public impact in the world.

Public art often protests injustice and oppression, seeking to raise public awareness. Pablo Picasso's famous painting Guernica, finished in 1937, is an example. As Wikipedia describes the painting,

"The large mural shows the suffering of people, animals, and buildings wrenched by violence and chaos." Depicting bombing of a Basque village in northern Spain by German and Italian planes, "Guernica was displayed around the world...and believed to have helped bring worldwide attention to the Spanish Civil War."


There is another kind of public art aimed at stimulating collective power, or civic agency. The two kinds are often mixed, but the aim is usually more one than the other.

Public narrative, in the sense of the concept developed by civil rights activist, community and labor union organizer turned Harvard professor Marshall Ganz and used in the Obama campaign in 2008, is a powerful example of public art aimed at developing civic agency. It has since become a resource for change-making around the world.

Narrative, writes Ganz, is the process "through which individuals, communities, and nations make choices, construct identity, and inspire action. It can both instruct and inspire - teaching us not only how we ought to act but motivating us to act." Public narrative is different than an individual story. "Some of us may think our personal stories don't matter," says Ganz. But "if we do public work we have a responsibility to give a public account of ourselves - where we came from, why we do what we do, and where we think we are going." Ganz told me that the telling of the story, and the experiences of being deeply understood and of having an impact, are crucial ingredients. Indeed such energizing interactions are the point.

Public narrative has three parts - "story of self," "story of us," "story of now."

Story of self: Story of self tells of formative experiences which shaped you, "communicating the values that are calling you to act." Story of self is built around one or two key "choice points," moments of large consequence when one faced a challenge of some kind, made a choice based on core values, experienced a consequence, and learned something of importance -- "a moral."

We have found in our work through the Sabo Center for Democracy and Citizenship that one of the most powerful effects of public narrative comes from having young people, especially from difficult circumstances, focus on choices they have made. As Natasha Moore, one of my students who often trains young people in public narrative, wrote in a paper,

"When people have had no control over the negative things that happened to them, it's hard to recognize the power they do have...by forcing people to think about decisions they have made that changed their life, it allows them to see that they do have some control over their circumstances and who they will become."

Story of us: Story of self connects with story of us. There are many "us's" - family, community, college, movement, nation. A story of us tells the lived values of a community, long formed or now forming. It can also help to constitute a community, helping develop distinctive collective identity. Stories of us with depth have founding moments, key choices, challenges faced, defining experiences, lessons learned.

Story of now: Story of now locates the community in challenges of the time. An example was Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech on August 28, 1963. It is important to remember that King combined his energizing message with a fierce protest against the failure of America to make good on the "promissory note" to African Americans.

There was another element: the strategic thought given to how the speech and the march could communicate with and energize broad audiences. The March on Washington, King's public stage, was designed by organizer Bayard Rustin to gain support from Middle Americans, for whom civil rights was not a central concern.

Two biblical stories illustrate the two types of public art. The Moses or Exodus narrative is the struggle against oppression, in which agency is largely located in God and Moses. By way of contrast, as Marie-Louise Ström and I described in an earlier blog, "Wilderness Politics," the Wilderness narrative tells the story of the struggle to build the institutions, governance structures, and rules, norms and habits of a way of life. The wilderness narrative is productive, difficult, and messy. People kept refusing agency and wanting to go back into Egypt. It is also a dramatic example of "the story of us."

Another biblical public art narrative aimed at agency is the Nehemiah story of rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem. As the people rebuilt the walls they also rebuilt themselves as a people. Within Nehemiah is a struggle against injustice, describing the nobles who were ripping off the people and how an assembly of the people held them to account. But this struggle takes place within a larger story of reconstruction. Both Wilderness and Nehemiah aim to educate and energize.

Recognizing -- "seeing" -- public art that aims to build civic agency can be conceived as a new frontier of interpretive cultural analysis. Seeing and creating such art is also urgently needed in our time, when fatalism is widespread.

Public art which aims at building civic agency can generate hope.

Deliberative Polling on Vermont’s Energy Future

Before making a decision on the future energy options in Vermont, which become fundamental, due to the soon expiry of two major electricity contracts, the Vermont Department of Public Service wanted to consider the views of the general public. For this purpose a deliberative poll was held in the University...

talking about lowering the voting age on Wisconsin Public Radio

On Wednesday, I was on the Kathleen Dunn show, which airs in Wisconsin and the upper Midwest. The title of the segment was “Partisanship among the Generations,” and Jocelyn Kiley from the Pew Research Center talked about the interesting results of their recent study on that topic.

By the way, what jumps out at me from their survey of 25,000 people is that a person’s specific birth year seems to influence her political orientation, with each year differing quite a bit from its neighbors. For instance, my birth year cohort (1967) seems more liberal than the years on either side. A likely explanation has nothing to do with the year of birth but rather the political events that occur about 18 years later, when the cohort first votes. The year-by-year variation undermines broad generalizations about 20-year generations.

After 30 minutes with Jocelyn Kiley, Kathleen turned to me and was mainly interested in our argument for lowering the voting age to 17 so that people can vote while they are still in high school. I’ve discussed that idea on other radio shows, but the Wisconsin public radio audience was much more enthusiastic. There were lots of callers; the audio is available here.

The post talking about lowering the voting age on Wisconsin Public Radio appeared first on Peter Levine.

Protecting Essential Infrastructure in Alaska

This four-page case study (2014) from The Intersector Project about how cross-sector collaboration was used to create the Alaska Partnership for Infrastructure Protection (APIP) to protect essential infrastructure in Alaska.

From the Intersector Project

Alaska’s vast size, sparse population, and difficult terrain makes communication and transportation across the state a challenge. Its regional isolation also leaves many Alaskans dependent on limited supply chains for crucial commodities. As a result of growing concerns over potentially hazardous disruptions to Alaska’s critical infrastructure, whether man-made or natural, the State of Alaska, Department of Defense, and several private sector organizations set out to develop a central, cross-sector mechanism to gather, analyze, and disseminate critical infrastructure information during periods of vulnerability or threat. These efforts resulted in the formation of the Alaska Partnership for Infrastructure Protection (APIP) in 2004. The mission of APIP is to protect infrastructure essential to all Alaskans by improving collaboration and interoperability between the public, private, and non-profit sectors. With the support of leaders like John Madden, Director of the Division of Homeland Security & Emergency Management for the State of Alaska, APIP continues this integrated team approach to addressing hazards through extensive information sharing, continuity of operations planning, and complex threat scenario exercises. Recognized across the nation, APIP’s Alaska Shield exercise program received acknowledgment from FEMA as the nation’s 2014 Capstone Exercise for securing a more resilient nation.

IP_Alaska

“Embracing the idea of sectors as interdependent is the right approach for us to improve our ability to withstand any hazard…Decisions need to occur across the whole sweep of participants through integrated problem solving, collaborative decision-making, and cooperative execution.”— John Madden, Director of the Division of Homeland Security & Emergency Management for the State of Alaska

This case study, authored by The Intersector Project, tells the story of this initiative.

More about The Intersector ProjectThe Intersector Project
The Intersector Project is a New York-based 501(c)(3) non-profit organization that seeks to empower practitioners in the government, business, and non-profit sectors to collaborate to solve problems that cannot be solved by one sector alone. We provide free, publicly available resources for practitioners from every sector to implement collaborative solutions to complex problems. We take forward several years of research in collaborative governance done at the Center for Business and Government at Harvard’s Kennedy School and expand on that research to create practical, accessible resources for practitioners.

Follow on Twitter @theintersector.

Resource Link: http://intersector.com/case/apip_alaska/ (Download the case study PDF here.)

This resource was submitted by Neil Britto, the Executive Director at The Intersector Project via the Add-a-Resource form.

Modern Bulgaria for Fair Elections

The initiative Modern Bulgaria for Fair Elections was implemented in the 2014 European Elections. 2722 activists and volunteers were trained by facilitators for a period of two months before taking part in the monitoring of 3011 polling stations around the country where they had to inspect for any violations in...