“In our
family, when we don’t know what to do, we have a cup of coffee. When we don’t
know what to think, we write.” Words I once wrote in Iguanas.
Well, I’m
doing both.
The coffee
is next to my computer. But where is Anders Behring Breivik, the source of my
confusion and need to write?
In Oslo,
awaiting sentencing.
You
remember the guy—the extremist who blew up a government building in Oslo, drove
to Utoya, crossed by boat to the island, and shot up and killed 60 students
involved in a political youth camp. It happened on a Friday in July, 2011. I
was at “work”—quotation marks because I was really just waiting to be laid off,
and hence doing nothing. So I devoted the day to reading the news of the
atrocities as it came in.
Madness or
evil, I wondered at the time.
And it’s a
case where knowing more means understanding less. Two court-ordered psychiatric
evaluations have been done—they disagree. The first stated he was
psychotic—both at the time of the killings and at the time of the evaluation.
The second report claims he’s sane. The trial has just ended, and it riveted
Norway. Sentencing will be on or before August 24.
The
prosecution claims he’s crazy—and with good reason. Norway’s jails focus on
rehabilitation—but they really mean it, unlike the US. (One-third of black
American males between 20 and 50 are in prison? Ouch!)* Oh, and maximum
sentence length in Norway is “only” 21 years. Breivik is 33—that means he’d be in his
mid-fifties when he got out. Still time to do some real damage. Some more
real damage, I mean….
The other
problem is the other prisoners. The concern is that Breivik could start
spouting off his militant anti-Islamic rhetoric, and form right-wing cells
(sorry, couldn’t help it) in prison. So the Norwegians—bless them—are seriously
considering putting him is isolation. But there’s a problem—it denies him his
basic human rights. So, with paradoxically the same
logical-to-the-edge-of-craziness that characterizes Breivik, the authorities
are proposing to hire “friends” who will come in several times a day to…
…play chess
with him.
(It’s a
digression but I can’t help it. Does anyone remember Laura Hernández who got
stuck in a Dominican jail for a couple of years? And the jail, with the dirt
floors and no food—the family had to bring that in….)
OK—prosecution
says he’s crazy. Defense says he’s sane. Anders argues—among other things
(apparently he wrote a 1500 page manifesto—remember Mein Kampf?—that lays it
all out)—that this violence was a necessary wake-up call to Norway. Their
culture, their very identity is under attack! No, not openly—but slowly,
insidiously by you-know-who, the folks in the burkas and the head shawls.
Hey, sorry,
but someone had to do it.
Well—Norwegian
thoroughness. I spent some time—though admittedly as a kid—in Norway. Norwegian
women—charmers! Norwegian men?
Well, guys,
just a little…
…dull.
But
organized. And Breivik was that—renting the farm, buying the six tons of
fertilizer needed for his bomb, laying the groundwork for what he hoped would
be his message to the world. He may have had a thinking disorder, but clearly
not a planning disorder.
But sane?
There was
an accepted standard in 19th century British law for determining
legal sanity: would the prisoner have committed the same actions if he had had
a policeman standing next to him? (Think it was Burke’s Rule—damn, wish I had
Internet!)
Well,
Breivik called the Norwegian police twice from Utoya, attempting to
surrender. The police, for whatever reason, blew him off. So he kept wandering
around the island, killing kids.
OK—so he’s
sane. 21 years of playing chess with paid friends and he’s out. What happens if
he’s declared insane?
Paradoxically,
because in Norway some psychiatric disorders are considered incurable, Breivik
could be held for the rest of his life in a psychiatric unit. So it’s 21 years
in prison if sane, potentially life in a madhouse if he’s nuts.
Well, in
Puerto Rico we might see it in another way. I once, in an unthinking moment,
confessed that I was suicidal to a student.
“Ah,” she
said. “That just means you’re not listening to God. And do you know why! You have a demonio! I
know, my sister-in-law had one!”
It was
therapeutic, actually. Made me so mad I stopped being depressed….
OK—maybe
extreme. But one does get the feeling—since psychiatry seems to tell us so
little here—that we should turn elsewhere.
Like where
Breivik turned? Because he’s an arch-Christian (my apologies to Christians, who
could rightly argue that he’s anything but!). But no matter, it
could indeed be that there is malevolence, as there is madness. Seventy dead
kids is a pretty strong argument for evil.
As well,
there’s the real question—does it matter? Sane / insane—who cares? What does it
matter why he did it? Stick him somewhere—anywhere!—and forget about him! Sure,
Norway is a rich country—but the rich don’t stay rich by spending foolishly.
Like hiring chess players for killers….
No good
answers, here. So then the question becomes…
…have we
asked the right questions?
*No,
dammit, I haven’t checked this fact—no Internet. But it’s something outrageous….
