Justice is an interesting word. It serves as the front man for a number
of different and sometimes incompatible concepts: revenge, retribution,
restoration, fate, fairness, equality. In everyday use it often boils
down to a sense of cosmic righteousness, a position that takes the
universe (or a god) to be a fair and neutral arbiter, an automatic karma
balancer, or, at a minimum, a provider of fate.
Since justice has so many meanings, it’s not always clear what someone is
trying to express when they use the word. Making matters worse, even when
parties agree on the definition, they often disagree on the act necessary
to make it so. It’s almost universally agreed, at least in the U.S.,
that justice in the case of murder has a heavy shade of retribution about
it, yet capital punishment remains contentious.
Other basic questions abound. Does justice necessarily demand only moral
actions in its name? Some of the conceptualizations seem to explicitly
disregard the morality of the action that brings about a course of
justice. Revenge has a long history with the entire spectrum moral
behavior, while restoration seems to have a specifically moral nature
about it. Let us not even dive into the disagreements of what is or is
not moral behavior. And it might be argued the other way
around, that what is moral is, by its nature, just. Of course, that doesn’t rule out
those acts which are amoral or immoral.
It turns out that justice is a tricky word, its use often leading us to
believe we are dishing out universal truths while instead merely
expressing the particular dynamic of justice that fits our feelings best
in the moment. Therefore, I don’t put too much emphasis on the cries that
justice has been done in the killing of Osama bin Laden. We are still in the
early hours and days after his death, and the immediate reaction is
understandable, particular from those personally affected by 9/11. His
death has all the feelings of personal revenge: we, the U.S., have been
furiously pursuing (haven’t we?) bin Laden for a decade, using every means
at our disposal to find, capture or kill, and to close the book on the man
who planned the largest terrorist attack in recent American history.
There is also a sense of restoration in the street celebrations.
Restoration of pride, of honor, of self-worth. This is not personal
restoration, but nationalism made personal, a sense of self derived from
national esteem. I don’t share in these feelings, indeed, I find them
dangerous and scary, but I do understand from where they come, and share
the desire to find pride in my home country. Maybe the living victims of
9/11 feel a sort of closure, in which case it’s hard to argue bin Laden’s
death is not a form of restorative justice.
Other definitions of justice fail to find any purchase in the killing of
bin Laden. In particular, equality seems to have been left hanging.
Equality has always been the rump of the litter of American values, the
youngest child, whining and grandstanding for attention. Yet, despite all
their blind spots (and they were far more blind than not on the issue), the
founding fathers understood that the other meanings of justice would
flounder without some guarantees of equality in how they are carried out.
The American justice system has often failed to deliver such equality, but
most Americans agree that, in abstract, that all suspects should have
their day in court, their chance to defend themselves, and more
importantly, that charges must be proved in a court of laws, not the public
sphere of emotion and rage.
We have consistently failed to apply that conceptualization of justice in
the “War on Terror.” In that way, bin Laden’s death, assuming capture
wasn’t a real priority (so far the evidence indicates that there weren’t
strong intentions to take him alive), is not all that different from the
targeted killing of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi in 2006, or the numerous other
killings of accused terrorists over the last ten years. Obama has even
accepted the proposition that the American government has the right to
kill U.S. citizens who are merely accused of providing material support
for terrorists. Equality, once it starts to decay, has a tendency to
further unravel.
Trying bin Laden in court would have been a mess. Finding a fair and
impartial jury would likely have proven impossible in the U.S., and trying
him in the Hague politically untenable. I would have enjoyed seeing the
evidence against bin Laden laid bare in court. Sadly, much the evidence
against him has been tainted by torture. However, the inability to take a
particular course of action does not magically render other sets of
actions just. I don’t find bin Laden’s death just any more than I would
find the targeted killing of George W. Bush just. Both took actions that
directly led to the deaths of thousands, both deserve long trials where
their crimes are brought fully to light. But all of that has to come
before death. After death there is only history, and there’s often no
justice in that.
Accidental Blogger 
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