Conservative Journey to Death Penalty Opposition
By Marc Hayden
In early 2013, I helped found Conservatives Concerned about the Death Penalty (CCATDP). It was the very first and only national conservative network devoted to questioning capital punishment’s alignment with conservative principles.
Now four-and-a-half years later, after launching as a small fledgling group, both our standing and the state of the death penalty have drastically changed. Our network has extended into every state. There are 11 state-based CCATDP groups – a number that should continue to grow rapidly. Conservative legislators are sponsoring repeal legislation at never-before-seen rates, and I believe that we have made great strides in shattering the one-time pervasive myth that all conservatives support the death penalty.
However, I did not always personally oppose capital punishment. The journey that led me to be one of CCATDP’s National Advocacy coordinators was glacial, starting much earlier in my life, and largely rooted in conservative pragmatism, not in my religious convictions.
Although I was born in Utah and spent a couple of years in Michigan during high school, I was raised predominantly in the southeastern United States where conservatism reigns supreme. I grew up in a conservative Christian household. In fact, the place I considered my hometown was a small city in southeastern Tennessee named Cleveland. The locals warmly referred to it as “the belt buckle of the Bible Belt.” I spent Sundays and sometimes Wednesday nights at church, and Vacation Bible School often dominated portions of my summers. My family was and still is comprised of devout Christians who are also unabashedly conservative. It was largely a given that they would vote Republican in deep red Tennessee. During my childhood, they remained active in politics to some degree, and a few of my earliest memories were actually of the family attending Republican Party rallies.
These political events were an amalgamation of a series of tired political stump speeches, second-rate country music and frequent outbursts from disgruntled southerners. All the while, the crowd took advantage of the free popcorn, cotton candy and Coca-Cola products in a festival-like spectacle. These rallies left a terrible mess, which prompted my first “job” while I was in elementary school. I was tasked with the unenviable role of cleaning up after these events and, in exchange, I was given a whole five dollars. Even at that age, I thought it was a pretty raw deal, and, as a result, I was of little help. I gave them what they paid for – a measly five dollars worth of work.
It was around this time, when I was maybe five- or six-years-old, that I first remember critically considering the death penalty. While on the playground at Cleveland, Tennessee’s Prospect Elementary, which was filled with aging and somewhat rusty play sets, I remember a friend’s discussing the death penalty. I presume it was a topic of conversation because there was a high-profile capital case in the news at the time. When he asked if I supported capital punishment, I didn’t hesitate when I responded: “Of course, I do. My parents are Republicans!”
Even at this tender young age, it seemed clear to me that support for the death penalty was a given for conservatives, especially those in the south or, as we called them, “real conservatives.”
Yet, the seeds of doubt were also sewn at that moment. After those words thoughtlessly jettisoned from my mouth without giving the death penalty any real consideration, I remember pausing and wondering about the executioner’s soul. I was and still am a proud Christian. So, at the time, I naturally worried about others’ salvation and what actions our Creator deemed virtuous. I wondered: Does God appreciate or loathe the executioner’s role in killing someone and do executions please the Lord?
Those questions went unanswered, or perhaps ignored, which made it easier to remain supportive of the death penalty. Eight or nine years passed until the next moment I recall seriously talking about capital punishment. This occurred when I was in junior high school, and Karla Faye Tucker’s execution loomed. She had committed heinous acts; but by all accounts, it appeared that she had not only been reformed, but had also become a born-again Christian. I remember an outcry from religious leaders, including nationally known televangelist Pat Robertson, who passionately called for her sentence to be commuted. However, I didn’t share their desire for mercy. I coldly shrugged my shoulders and told my family that for every crime there is a just response, and she deserved to die for her egregious transgressions. Period. Not only that, but I felt that converting to Christianity didn’t absolve individuals of their crimes in our earthly justice system. I also thought that pardoning someone or commuting their sentence because they had become a Christian and turned their life around would set a terrible precedent. I figured it would incentivize all death row inmates to insincerely “convert” to Christianity to reap the benefits. My lack of empathy and apparent disdain for mercy was a far cry from that time when I was a child and once worried about the executioner’s soul.
The next several years passed without spending any considerable time dwelling on the death penalty. If anything, my support probably became more entrenched. However, after college, I once again revisited capital punishment. Even though I felt that some people simply deserved to die and that the death penalty was a great instrument for deterring crime, I was willing to begrudgingly allow my own views to be challenged. This was due to the training that I received while studying philosophy at Georgia State University in Atlanta. I had been instructed to think critically about complex issues and to remain open to reasoned arguments. Because of this, I had changed my perspective on many topics as I grew ever more conservative. Yet, to my surprise, my death penalty support began to incrementally erode as I learned more about capital punishment’s application in practice.
One of the issues that weighed heavily on me was that of innocence. I had heard about individuals being exonerated after spending decades on death row, and I had watched television shows that featured these exonerees. Yet, for a long time, I thought the fact that these people had been released from prison was proof that the system was working. I truly felt terrible that so many people had been wrongly convicted and sentenced to die; but I was still confident in the system. However, as the number of people exonerated from death row quickly mounted, it eventually became an issue that was difficult to ignore as I was confronted by the system’s fallible nature. I wondered how many people’s innocence had not been discovered and how many inmates may have consequently been wrongly executed. As a pro-life conservative, this bothered me. I thought: How could a government program that unnecessarily risked killing innocent Americans be considered pro-life? In all sincerity, it can’t. But I convinced myself that wrongful executions were probably rare enough that the death penalty’s supposed benefits outweighed its faults. Despite my views, I continued to keep an open mind as my journey continued.
Like many conservatives, I take fiscal responsibility and limited government quite seriously. I believe they, along with a pro-life philosophy, are central tenants of conservatism. Yet, as I grew older, it seemed that the death penalty clearly clashed with these concepts. I keenly understood the death penalty’s exorbitantly high price compared to life without parole. It can cost millions more than the alternatives and has even been the impetus for tax increases, which is one of conservatism’s unforgivable sins. Thus, it didn’t seem fiscally responsible. I also privately admitted that capital punishment didn’t fit within a framework of a limited government. After all, there is no greater authority than the power to take life; but our imperfect government retains the right to kill its citizens. Given the state’s unenviable track record, this is a privilege that it clearly has not earned. As a result, endowing the government with this immense authority didn’t sit right with me.
Even though I conceded that the death penalty wasn’t pro-life, fiscally responsible or representative of a limited government, I still clung to capital punishment. I had bought into the myth that principled conservatives ought to support the death penalty. But I struggled to justify capital punishment because it so clearly clashed with my values. I acknowledged that the death penalty was inconsistent with conservatism, but I was willing to violate my principles if I could find an excuse to support executions. So, after some thought, I concocted a half-baked argument to buttress my flagging death penalty support. I surmised that if more lives are saved because of the death penalty’s deterrent effect than are wrongly executed, then I could consider capital punishment a good government, pro-life program.
My argument was severely flawed. It ignored the individual rights and liberties of innocent people. Plus, I soon read a study revealing that there is no credible evidence to suggest that executions impact homicide rates. After I learned this, I slumped in my leatherback office chair in disappointment. I really wanted to be a proponent of capital punishment because, at the time, I incorrectly thought supporting it was the proper conservative viewpoint. Despite my best attempts and reliance on fallacious arguments, I had to conclude that I couldn’t support the death penalty. I found it to be antithetical to conservative values in practice, and it simply wasn’t beneficial.
As my career in politics progressed, I proudly worked to advocate for the conservative principles that drove me and countless others. I served as a legislative aide to Georgia’s Republican Senate President Pro Tempore. I managed a Republican congressional race in North Carolina and aided a host of other Republican campaigns. I even went to work for the National Rifle Association (NRA) and was stationed in Panama City Beach, Florida. It was during this time that I ran across a curious job posting. A nonprofit that I had never heard of named Equal Justice USA (EJUSA) was seeking a conservative who opposed capital punishment to launch a new project. At that moment, the metaphorical light bulb illuminated in my head, and I realized that there must be many conservatives who hold deep death penalty reservations.
After reading and re-reading the ad, I hesitated for a moment and finally decided to apply for the job. I submitted my application and, after a couple of interviews over the subsequent few weeks, I was surprisingly offered the position and started working for the Brooklyn, NY-based EJUSA. Thankfully, I wasn’t required to move to the northeast, which suited this southerner just fine.
After my brief orientation, I was tasked with launching a nationwide network of conservatives who were questioning the death penalty, which would be called Conservatives Concerned about the Death Penalty (CCATDP). This sounded like a monumental undertaking for someone as uninformed as I was. But I quickly learned that I wasn’t building it from scratch – far from it. There were many nationally known conservatives who were already publicly opposed to capital punishment. In fact, our first two supporters were Richard Viguerie, who is known as the founding father of American conservatism, and famed conservative jurist Jay Sekulow – one of my father’s heroes.
My first notable assignment at EJUSA was heading to Austin, Texas, to speak at the Texas Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty’s (TCADP) annual conference in February of 2013. As a veteran of various kinds of conferences, I know that many are uneventful and imminently forgettable. However, this experience was much different. While I was at TCADP’s conference, I had the pleasure of hearing Anthony Graves speak. He was wrongly convicted and sentenced to die, but had tirelessly fought for his freedom against a corrupt prosecutor for 18 years before gaining his freedom. His story was compelling, and it left me invigorated and excited about my coming work. It is one thing to know that nearly 160 people have been exonerated from death row, but to put a face and story with these numbers was a powerful experience.
I have since met many other death row exonerees from all walks of life who were nearly executed because of mistaken eyewitness testimony, prosecutorial misconduct and/or reliance on faulty forensics. While they have survived to tell their harrowing stories, many others have been executed who might have been innocent. Carlos DeLuna is one such person whose story I first heard at TCADP’s conference, and which had a profound effect on me. He was convicted and executed based on circumstantial evidence and the eyewitness testimony of a single man who claimed he was only 50% sure that DeLuna was the perpetrator. Meanwhile, another man also named Carlos, who was a protected police informant, frequently bragged about how he got away with murdering his ex-girlfriend, while the crime was pinned on the wrong Carlos.
When people ask me why I am involved in this work, I can say as a pro-lifer that I cannot sit idly as a government program continues to unnecessarily risk innocent lives. I do this work for people like Anthony Graves, Carlos DeLuna and the untold numbers of innocent people currently on death row.
After my experience at TCADP’s conference, the conservative network, CCATDP, was quietly taking form and faced its first real test. In March 2013, we had planned to launch our group at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC), the nation’s largest annual meeting of conservatives. I was a little apprehensive. While I was used to being the darling of most conservative crowds when I worked for the NRA, I wasn’t entirely sure how my peers at CPAC would react to CCATDP and its mission.
Regardless of my unjustified concerns, I eagerly erected our booth in the sprawling exhibitor hall in metro D.C.’s fashionable Gaylord National Hotel and Resort. But I wasn’t alone. I was joined at the conference by a team of conservatives, including a former Montana Republican gubernatorial nominee, who helped us work the booth. As we anxiously awaited the start of CPAC and the doors to the enormous hall finally opened, throngs of conservative activists poured in, and a horde of CPAC’s attendees quickly flooded our small exhibitor space. Many swiftly changed their views on capital punishment and asked how they could get involved with our network. A host of others freely admitted that they had long thought that they were the only conservatives who opposed the death penalty. They thanked us for existing, and some even asked if they could hug us to show their thanks for our work. Anyone who knows me understands that I am not a big hugger, but I reluctantly accepted the physical displays of gratitude anyway. From my perspective, CCATDP passed its first test with flying colors.
Shortly after CPAC, I traveled to Indianapolis to speak at a small workshop at the Journey of Hope’s conference. Journey of Hope: From Violence to Healing is an organization led by murder victims’ family members with the aim of educating the public on the death penalty’s harmful effect on them. Before attending, I had read extensively about capital punishment’s negative impact on victims’ loved ones. I knew that it was often a false promise, and it was a complex and protracted process that forced victims’ family members to relive the worst moments of their lives repeatedly and publicly. I had even heard of victims’ relatives who had earnestly pleaded with prosecutors to seek sentences other than death for a variety of reasons; but their wishes were ultimately ignored as they were shamefully marginalized during the process. However, I am not sure that I really grasped what I had read until I heard several speakers at the Journey of Hope’s convening. They recounted their heartbreaking ordeals and how the death penalty had made their lives much worse.
One of the speaker’s stories that remained with me was that of SueZann Bosler. She rose to speak in the humble sanctuary of the church hosting the event, and explained how her father was a minister who opposed the death penalty. He had even instructed her that if he were ever to be murdered to make sure that the offender didn’t receive a death sentence. SueZann was also opposed to capital punishment, and when her father was regrettably killed in a senseless crime, SueZann aimed to keep her word to her deceased father. However, the prosecuting attorney and presiding judge threatened her. They callously stated that if she revealed her or her father’s steadfast opposition to capital punishment on the witness stand, they would hold her in contempt of court and throw her in jail. As she recounted her shocking story, the emotion in the church sanctuary was palpable. As I heard her tale and that of many others, I concluded that the death penalty didn’t provide the justice that the families of murder victims deserve.
Since the early days of CCATDP’s founding, we have had prominent roles at numerous conservative and libertarian conferences across the United States with the same positive results that we experienced at CPAC. Increasing numbers of conservatives understand that the death penalty runs contrary to our timeworn principles. But if I am ever in doubt, another clear demonstration of this truth is never far off.
While attending a regional CPAC in St. Louis, Missouri, I organized a meeting with conservative icon Colonel Oliver North. As I nervously waited for him to arrive in the darkened green room, he marched in with the stature and confidence that you’d expect from a Marine Corps colonel. Yet, in an incredibly kind, affable demeanor, he explained that he opposed capital punishment because he finds it to be unnecessary and dangerous in the hands of our imperfect government. Not long after that meeting, another well-known thought leader spoke out against the death penalty when former presidential candidate Dr. Ron Paul endorsed CCATDP and uncompromisingly stated that capital punishment is completely inconsistent with traditional conservatism.
As CCATDP continued to expand its reach and raise its profile, my colleagues and I have increasingly traveled across the country to speak at tea parties, Republican clubs, liberty groups, and pro-life organizations. It became clear that our message was gaining momentum, and we were being accepted with open arms into the most conservative corners of America.
Conservatives are turning against the death penalty with great frequency. However, I regularly bump into seasoned activists and political leaders who have long opposed capital punishment but who had kept their views a guarded secret. This happened one evening at the weekly convening of the well-established Georgia Tea Party, which meets in an unassuming back room of a former car dealership behind a mega-church in Marietta, Georgia. I was invited to present the conservative case against capital punishment and, at the end of the night, when a poll was taken to gauge the group’s support for the death penalty, many had changed their minds on the spot. In fact, roughly 50% of the group was in favor of repealing capital punishment – not a bad outcome after only a 20-minute stump speech, I thought. As I was packing up my materials to head home, the cofounder of the Georgia Tea Party leaned in towards me, smiled, and whispered, “I’ve been against the death penalty for 30 years. I just never told anyone.”
While the journey that led me to believe that capital punishment ought to be repealed occurred more recently, many of my older conservative peers, like my friend at the Georgia Tea Party, had turned against the death penalty long before. They have done so because ever since capital punishment was reinstituted in the U.S., it has been a violation of conservatism in practice. It fails what I call the conservative litmus test. It isn’t pro-life because it risks innocent life. It’s not fiscally responsible because it costs far more than the alternatives, and it’s certainly not representative of a limited government. Meanwhile, it fails to keep society safer and even harms the families of murder victims. This is the message that my colleagues and I share as we travel across the US and educate our peers on the failures of capital punishment; and, since our launch in 2013, there has been a marked change. Conservatives at the local and national level are increasingly concluding that America’s death penalty is little more than the kind of big, broken government program that conservatives loathe. Given this reality, capital punishment’s days appear numbered.
Marc Hyden is the National Advocacy coordinator for Conservatives Concerned about the Death Penalty, a project of EJUSA. He comes most recently from the National Rifle Association (NRA) where he served as a campaign field representative in the state of Florida. Prior to his service with the NRA, he was the campaign manager of a Republican congressional race in western North Carolina. Marc has additionally served as the Legislative Liaison/Public Affairs Specialist with the Georgia Emergency Management Agency/Homeland Security and as the legislative aide to the Georgia Senate President Pro Tempore.
