Let's not get too carried away over drug pair

THERE is nothing quite so sad as bad things happening to good people. It's upsetting. But what is interesting is how upset people can still get when bad things happen to bad people.

I know it is not politically correct to speak ill of the very recently dead (especially when it is death by firing squad) but the outpouring of rage and despair over the killing of two people who in other circumstances would be deemed "bad" is quite extraordinary.

The media seems largely to have glossed over the fact that Myuran Sukumaran and Andrew Chan were major drug smugglers in favour of talking up their Australian-ness.

The two were not just part of a drugs syndicate aimed at putting heroin into the hands of the masses, they were the ring leaders of it.

They knew the risks, they knew the penalties if caught and they chose to do it anyway.

Forgive me if I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for them in a week when much worse things are happening to much better people in Nepal.

Personally I don't support the death penalty - for any reason at all and certainly not for smuggling drugs (even though people would almost certainly have died as a result of consuming them).

I believe in the possibility of reform, and the power of forgiveness.

What I don't support is putting two people on a pedestal and somehow making their lives (and their deaths) more significant just because of the country they came from.

Six other people were executed along with Sukumaran and Chan. Some of them claim they were forced to be drug mules through desperation or coercion. But because they're not from over the ditch we don't know much about them, and presumably don't care to.

People get executed all the time on this sad planet, and often (as has been pointed out due to John Key's flirtations this week with the Saudis) for far less reason.

If I am to be really cynical (and let's face it, I often am) I would argue that the reason the executions are so high in the headlines is because of two factors: the "not-in-my-back-yard" effect and the "oh-my-goodness-isn't-it-deliciously-grisly" street appeal of a death by firing squad.

The further away you live and the more ho-hum your death, the quieter you can go about it.

There has been much made of the fact that during his years on death row, Andrew Chan became a committed Christian and a "changed man". But let's stand in his shoes for a minute and ask this: if you were soon being sent to meet your maker after doing a very bad thing, wouldn't you want to start up a dialogue?

I agree with most of what's being said about the death sentence. Unless it can be proved (which is always the ultimate stumbling block) that you took someone else's life with intent, our humanity should help us find a better way to wield the stick.

But on an occasion when you knew the ramifications of committing a crime that would devastate the lives of hundreds of others in your bid to make money, how much of the world's spotlight does your death deserve?

Eva Bradley is an award-winning columnist and photographer, who runs Napier-based Eva Bradley Photography.