Should executions be televised?

The debate about death is certainly lively.

Photo by Hédi Benyounes on Unsplash

There’s a logical conclusion to the reckless, game of one—up-manship the networks and streaming services are playing with so-called reality television.

We’ve had bug-eating survivors and broke bachelors posturing as millionaires and banal bachelorettes and American “idols” belting out their Bandstand best and The Donald firing folk with aplomb.

In this arms race of shameless human exploitation in which TV’s purveyors of voyeurism are hell-bent on capturing the fleeting attention of the Cheeto-eating, beer-swilling demographic, and most everybody else, it’s abundantly clear what’s next.

Televised executions.

For years death penalty advocates have stressed the deterring effect of a few minutes on an electric chair or a date with the needle or a couple of last gasps of deadly gas.

Not for the condemned criminal, because they will be, well, dead. But the next time someone is going to pull a gun in a convenience store he may think twice, knowing that what waits is more than a head- freeze high from a gulped stolen Slurpee and the $32 in the cash register.

Actor Daniel Day Lewis’ frightening, yet uncomfortably entertaining thug in the movie “Gangs of New York,” made no bones about cracking some necks to restore his own sense of order to the mayhem of Five Points. Trouble in the neighborhood, you say? He just called for some public hangings.

At the same time, opponents of capital punishment, the placard-carrying long hairs often found holding candlelight vigils outside of penitentiaries, argue that state-sponsored death is cruel and unusual, the stuff of Orwell come to life.

The debate about death is certainly lively.

But because executions are handled in much the same way sperm clinics collect their merchandise — behind locked doors with lots of secrecy and with people who really, really don’t want to talk about it when it’s over — no one knows a whole lot about the process.

By broadcasting the executions, we’d get an up close and personal look, and we could better judge for ourselves.

It would be more insightful than the theoretical debates of college lecture halls and seminaries and political party caucuses.

There’s another benefit to reality TV executions.

Since the state handles the executions they have a stake in any TV profits.

The inmates, the ones that cost us $70,000 a year or whatever the going rate is for annual tuition at Harvard University Law School, could more fully pay their debts to society.

Moreover, they could actually pay some restitution to the victims’ families beyond the few cents an hour they make pounding out license plates.

Let’s say FOX or the WB or HBO or Netflix or Amazon (this seems like something Amazon would do) ponies up $500,000 for the rights to televise an execution. The state and the victims could split the money 50/50.

There’s more potential here.

A death row inmate who agrees to sign off on the televised execution could court his own sponsors for his last meal, and send the proceeds to his family.

Restaurants and beer companies could bid for the last-meal rights.

Of course, one major unintended consequence here is that the televised executions could actually incentivize crime as murderers compete for notoriety with body counts and ghastly atmospherics and web rants all aimed at building notoriety, a brand that could boost negotiations so they command higher royalties for the executions. They’d be millionaires for a few hours.

And there is endless opportunity for abuse by prosecutors and lawmakers if there is a for-profit element in executions. It’s a graduated level of horror from private prisons.

Which is why it is surprising the executions aren’t already streaming.

But somewhere, in the holes where they live, reproduce and think up these disgraceful shows, you just know there is a network or streaming-service executive licking his or her chops at the prospect of the ultimate in reality programming.