Beyond The Law: A mother embraces all that remains of her son - murdered by the Serbs at Sebrinecia. When the possibility of being held to account disappears, so too do all the "normal" and "decent" restraints of civilised living. If the State breaks the law, then there is no law - and no one is safe.
THEY HAD LIVED next door to one another for years. Their
children went to the same schools. The men worked in the same fields. Everyone
drank the same water, breathed the same air.
So what caused one neighbour to fall upon the other so
savagely? Shoot to death the father and the sons in their own garden? Rape the
mother and daughter in their own kitchen?
The world watched, horrified, as the people of what had been
Yugoslavia tore their country, and themselves, to pieces in the early 1990s.
The bleak lesson of those dreadful times is clear. When
there is no possibility of being held to account for their actions, perfectly “normal”
and “decent” people become willing participants in the most horrendous crimes.
Because they can.
Because no one will punish them for doing so.
Thinking about such things makes us uncomfortable. It makes
us question the meaning of “normal” and “decent”. It makes us wonder if those
who speak about “original sin” might have a point. And if the veneer of
civilisation might be no more substantial than a bloodstain – and just as
easily wiped away.
It should make us value all the more the protocols of law
and justice. But most of all it should make us acutely sensitive to the words
and actions of those in authority over us. Because it is from these figures
that the cues invariably come. Stark or subtle, it is their messages that prime
us, alert us, incite us and reassure us that from some groups in society the protection
of the law has been withdrawn; that they are now fair game; we can do what we
like to them. No one will come to punish us. No one will be held to account.
And so, to Justice Simon France, we all owe a huge debt of
gratitude. This week he placed himself athwart the road that leads to the death
of accountability, social safety and personal liberty and said “No further!”
The New Zealand Police, or at least the Organised Financial
Crime Authority of New Zealand (Ofcanz), had decided that for one particular
group of citizens, in this case members of the Red Devils Motorcycle Club, the
law could be broken with impunity. To convict men they’d already adjudged
guilty and considered enemies of all “normal” and “decent” people, Ofcanz
officers believed it right and proper that the Executive and Judicial arms of
the state should join forces. That secretly, and in conscious manipulation of
the law, they should help a Police undercover agent bring these enemies of the
people (organised criminals! drug-dealers!) to “justice”.
When I read about Justice France’s decision to stay the
prosecution of the Red Devils Motorcycle Club, and was then forced to listen to
the outraged response of the Police Association’s Greg O’Connor, I was reminded
of the line spoken by the eponymous hero of the hit 1971 counter-culture movie,
Billy Jack.
Warned that the blatantly illegal actions of a wealthy
rancher were sanctioned by the presence of a corrupt local deputy sheriff, Billy
Jack says: “When policemen break the law, then there isn’t any law – just a
struggle for survival.”
Why couldn’t Greg O’Connor have said that? Why couldn’t he
have stood up for every honest police officer? Why wasn’t he the first to say
that such behaviour was unacceptable and that those responsible must be called
to account?
More importantly, why wasn’t the Minister of Police, Anne
Tolley, willing to say it? Why wasn’t the Prime Minister?
Our political leaders are supposed to be the guardians of
our rights and liberties. They are supposed to understand and uphold the
doctrine of the separation of powers. They are supposed to have sufficient
grasp of basic ethical principles to know that “the end justifies the means” is
always the first, irrevocable step down the road to perdition.
That they appear not to understand these responsibilities to
their fellow citizens should make us feel uncomfortable – very uncomfortable. Their
public statements – which can hardly be interpreted as anything other than a
vote of confidence in the behaviour of the police officers whose actions were
so roundly condemned by a senior member of the judiciary – are equally discomforting.
Because they are cues; not-so-subtle hints that this is the
direction in which we can expect government policy to go. And in no time at all
columnists and commentators of like mind were picking-up on their cues; expanding
and amplifying their hints.
Who are these judges? Why aren’t they lending the Police a
hand, instead of protecting these criminals? Who cares about the rights of
these “terrorists”? What about the rights of the “good people of Nelson”?
No doubt the “good people” of all those Yugoslavian villages
heard their leaders asking very similar questions.
Right before they butchered their neighbours.
This essay was
originally published in The Press of
Tuesday, 30 October 2012.