Last Friday's World Social Justice Day was overshadowed by the impending execution of Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumuran in Indonesia. Its delay keeps alive the teasing, agonised hope that the sentence may yet be commuted.
The demands of justice lie behind the strong opposition to the executions by politicians, columnists, church leaders and many citizens. They see execution as an unjust punishment for any human being. Respect for human dignity means that we can never take a human life, and certainly not an Australian life, as punishment for crime.
But the demands of justice also fuel the conviction of many Australians that the sentence should be carried out. They argue that the State may legitimately take the lives of those who devastate others' lives by dealing in drugs, and that people who break national laws carrying the death penalty deserve to die.
Here two approaches to social justice come into conflict. One focuses initially on society and the law and argues abstractly about right and wrong. It emphasises legitimacy and law.
The other approach focuses on the persons involved in the decision, and particularly on the persons who will be executed. It asks what execution means for them and for all those in relationship to them, including relatives, fellow countrymen, executioners, lawmakers and the victims of the crimes for which the condemned are sentenced to death.
From this latter perspective on social justice the key question to ask is whether the executions will contribute to the flourishing of the persons concerned and to society as a whole. Flourishing means living in security, encouragement to make connections to others, to grow in responsibility and to contribute to a society that cares for all its members, especially the most vulnerable.
The last ten years enable us to see what is at stake for the flourishing of Chan and Sukumuran.
On the evidence of officers and prisoners with whom they have lived they have changed from self-centred, superficial young men to adults who give their lives to the other prisoners, are reflective, creative and have found inner depth and strength. Their execution will cut down their lives as they have begun to flower. It will also take away their capacity to touch others' lives for the better, and with it the possibility of life changing relationships with many other people. They lose and society loses.
What the execution means for those involved in ordering, taking part in and approving the execution is more subtle. It will encourage a retreat from focusing on the human dignity of persons to seeing them instrumentally. To be involved in the restraining and shooting of unarmed people, to have children exposed to imagining its details, and to applaud it leads to a hardening of empathy and to a diminished respect for human dignity.
Human life becomes a card that can be played for higher stakes. The public imagination becomes a little more corrupted.
These are arguments against execution, not against heavy penalties for criminal offences. The flourishing of persons and of society requires a framework to ensure that those who wrong others in society are restrained and cannot benefit from their actions, and that those who are harmed have their injured human dignity vindicated. The flourishing of society also demands that those who act wrongly be assisted to participate in society and to contribute to it.
By these standards many other penal measures, such as life imprisonment and fixed sentences also impede the flourishing of persons and of society. But capital punishment is uniquely destructive.
While people are alive there is the possibility, admittedly sometimes remote, that they will respond by reflecting on their lives, becoming deeper and more generous as human beings, making connections with others and contributing even in small ways to the happiness of others and to society. Capital punishment brutally excludes possibility and leaves all of us the smaller for it.
Social justice does not begin with principles. The principles come from looking at real human beings in their relationships with one another, and asking what human flourishing demands. This can then be articulated haltingly in principles, and the principles embodied crudely in a legal framework that allows for due discretion in its workings.
Andrew Hamilton is consulting editor of Eureka Street.