Solemnity Over Satisfaction
I will always be disturbed by the focus on punishing criminals over preventation of victimhood.
Our world is overflowing with assholes and idiots committing evil acts on purpose or by accident; and of those whose actions have become public knowledge and entered cultural discourse, I can think of no one worse than Ghislaine Maxwell. This remorseless criminal empowered the evil desires of many powerful people and victimized countless youths beyond what we can imagine. She is on trial for her crimes now, and it should be obvious that she ought to be imprisoned for the rest of her life—but what may not be obvious is the sensible reaction to that verdict, or why it is deserved in the first place.
I am deeply uncomfortable about the that way people tend to respond to the news of evil deeds. “I hope they get what they deserve,” or, “I’m glad that person is behind bars”—these impassioned responses are so involved—so participatory in the narrative of evil that I can’t understand it. Why do you need to celebrate the punishment of a crime?
I feel there is a lack of solemnity in our culture—of the observation and internalization of reality without taking it personally, and without passion. It will not make me happy to know that Ghislaine Maxwell goes to prison, because it will never make me happy to know that someone has gone to prison. It only means that something terrible has been done, and that something terrible had to be done in response to prevent something even more terrible from happening again.
I have extreme doubt that punitive action is in any way correctional. The fear of reprimand may be preventative, but that understanding of consequences goes far beyond the law, and is embedded into instincts and learning. If you do something to hurt someone else, they will likely retaliate; if they can’t because you are stronger than them, then they likely won’t—which is why those with power make the rules in our society and those born into that power structure will typically live by those rules without question. What is weird to me, then, is that people come to agree with or even like and celebrate those rules as if it is ‘good’ that they exist.
There is nothing ‘good’ about the existence of prisons. There is nothing ‘good’ about the fact that a power exists above our individual rights to decide what we can and can’t do, and then to limit our livelihoods in response to perceived infractions. At best, prison may be considered a ‘necessary evil’—but to celebrate their existence or the act of putting someone behind bars is, to me, an expression of evil in itself. It springs from a desire for vindictive satisfaction—to feel as though you are justified in your participation within the extant power structure, because that structure would protect and avenge you from the wrongdoings of others. But this is not why prison is ‘necessary’—it is only so because there are those who would threaten the power structure with their ability to roam freely, and because there are those who would continue to victimize those deemed innocent within that structure if it didn’t make its power felt to them.
Ghislaine Maxwell was able to operate with impunity not because she “wasn’t caught” by the countless operatives within the power structure that is now punishing her who had been aware of what she was doing, but because the system actively empowered her to commit her crimes with complete awareness. It is only now that the ‘wrong people’ (i.e. the reporting sect of the common populace) are aware of her misdeeds that she is now being made an example of in punishment.
Power truly comes from everywhere—the system only runs because we all collectively allow it to, out of fear that we don’t agree with enough other people about what aspects of our system are at present disagreeable to overhaul it and confidently install something different.
‘Change’ is always what happens when enough people feel differently from how they did about something to demand that it be different, and then for those with the ability to make those changes to implement them under risk of revolt or being overhauled from their positions of power by a populace which is likely not ready to make a clear decision about the steps to follow. We know this innately, and so we are angry all the time about the changes we want—but unaware of most of what is actually happening within the power structure that we uphold.
The correct response to knowledge of Ghislaine Maxwell’s crimes is not to hope that she goes to prison or to celebrate when she does—it is to experience the solemn realization of what our system perpetuates and to seek a change that will not allow it to go on. Ghislaine is an agent of evil—she will always commit atrocities even from within prison, because information and aid will still flow through her to evil actors. Even if she had been killed like her accomplice Jeffrey Epstein, it would only mean that the system needs new actors to step into their places and fulfill their roles. The real darkness in the knowledge of Ghislaine’s existence is knowing that our power structure is built in a way to deliberately allow the existence of people like her.
We live in a culture of instant gratification. We learn enough and experience enough darkness in our extremely complicated world that we need constant satisfaction to keep ourselves from getting swallowed by the knowledge that change is slow and difficult—and so it is not surprising that we seek that satisfaction anywhere we can get it. I only wish that more people could find the strength to realize what isn’t worth celebrating (or even being outraged over, as that feeling is also gratifying in itself). The instantaneous desire for satisfying conclusions has always perpetuated more evil in this world—and where appropriate, a sense of solemnity and the approach of dignity can allow us the concentration to really consider what kinds of meaningful change can be made.
It is never worthwhile to hope for anyone to go to prison or to celebrate when they are convicted and sentenced. I wouldn’t be upset at anyone for feeling relieved knowing that Ghislaine Maxwell was put behind bars, but I find the thirst for blood so many have for common criminals and criminals of circumstance extremely suspect and depleted of empathy.
No one wants to feel that they are evil or that their actions can be construed that way, but to me the perpetuation of a prison system is an evil continually committed on the part of all society, of which we are. It is okay to know that protecting your ideal society or even fighting for the change you want to see in it includes the perpetuation of structures that are evil but ‘necessary’—but that acknowledgement should come in solemnity and never in celebration.
I feel that people experience catharsis from justice being delivered, since it is such a rarity for that to be the case.
I feel like prisons are concentration camps for the ongoing and necessary institution of slavery, that is still being overly abused.
Imprisonment is a surprisingly recent invention. I do enjoy pondering the argument of slavery being the more effective, corrective and moral choice, if well implemented.
Stripping of personal rights is in my opinion a necessary exercise of power in some cases, but it should always be done selectively and with correction in mind.
Of course, it is hard to weigh what is better for the emotional wellbeing of society - the overt displays of seldom delivered justice, a narrative told without nuance in an uncompromising salesman pitch of the government to its subjects, or the gradual and messy improvement of those who have transgressed littered with mistakes.
All this effort to help those who don´t deserved it when there are so many more worthy who suffer?
A tough pitch.
Does every person posses the same dignity, irrespective of circumstances?
A basic and foundational question at the base of modern morality. The yes answer informs much of the modern systems of prosecution, yet to many, it is not self evident, if put under scrutiny.