What the Law Cannot Do

Each is responsible for all, Dostoevsky says. He didn’t mean that no one was responsible. He meant that responsibility spreads far.

In his intriguing Rosenstock-Huessy-inspired Power, Love, and Evil , Wayne Cristaudo illustrates Dostoevsky’s point with a review of the family history of Gary Gilmore. Extreme violence went back several generations in Gilmore’s family, making it impossible simply to “blame the perpetrator, or, failing that, the parents.” Cristaudo says that Gilmore’s parents “were no more able to be real ‘adults’ or real parents, that is able to love and equip their children for life’s trials, than they could fly to the moon on broomsticks.” In short, “just as it takes many lifetimes (not discounting the odd miracle) to make even moderately good parents and children, it took many lifetimes to make Gary’s parents and hence to make Gary.”

And then comes the law, in Gilmore’s case enacting a repetition of the damage that Gary had committed and suffered, a re-enactment he actively sought. What what can the law do? Not much. It repeats the violence, but and repeats it only against one of the responsible parties. Gary got the firing squad, but what about his maternal grandfather who beat his wife and children senseless with his wooden leg?

The best the law can do is to scapegoat.