By Tommy Acosta
I could never be president or leader of a country who orders the killing of another human. Nor could I sit on some committee where we could declare death on another nation or person. I guess to be a president or a world leader, sometimes you just have to be able to kill — to take another human life in the name of peace or justice.
Sometimes that means taking thousands of lives. Tens of thousands of lives.
What did it take for those who made the decision to drop atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki? How did they justify killing on such an enormous scale?
President Harry Truman and his advisers faced one of the most consequential decisions in human history. The argument for using the bombs was that doing so could bring the war to a rapid conclusion and avoid the enormous casualties expected from an invasion of Japan. The argument against it was equally haunting: Entire cities filled with human beings were going to be destroyed.
Truman made the decision. I don’t think I could have.
Look at Hitler. Look at Stalin. Look at Mao Zedong. Look at Attila the Hun. Look at the Roman Empire. Look at the genocide of Native Americans. Throughout history, people in power have made decisions that resulted in enormous numbers of human beings being killed.
I can see myself killing quite easily when it comes to defending my own life or that of a loved one. Personal combat. Saving someone I love from being murdered. No problem. No sweat. Lethal violence, to me, is understandable on that level. Someone is trying to kill me or someone I love, and I have seconds to act. It’s him or me. It’s the murderer or the person I’m trying to protect.
But I can’t see myself sitting behind a desk ordering the execution of somebody — deliberately ordering another human being’s life to be taken.
Nor could I sit behind a computer screen as though I were playing a video game, sending a drone into some populated area and watching human beings disappear from the screen. Couldn’t do it.
The distance wouldn’t make it easier for me.
The person on the ground doesn’t know me. I don’t know them I’ve never looked into their eyes. I’ve never heard their voice. They may be my enemy. They may be determined to kill me and my countrymen.
But I push a button, and they ceases to exist. And perhaps the people standing next to them cease to exist as well.
On Feb. 28, the United States and Israel launched their massive attack against Iran. Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was killed, along with members of his family and other senior Iranian officials.
Somewhere, someone had to make that decision. Somebody had to say: Do it.
Was it an easy decision? Was there hesitation before the order was given? Did the people making the decision think about the families who might also die? Did they go home afterward and eat dinner? Did they sleep?
I don’t know. But whatever it takes to make that kind of decision, I don’t think I have it.
The same question bothers me about capital punishment. Somebody has to strap another human being to a table. Somebody has to insert the needles. Somebody has to prepare the chemicals. And eventually somebody has to start the process that will stop that person’s heart.
Or consider a firing squad.
President Trump recently approved execution by firing squad for Nidal Hasan, the former Army major convicted of murdering 13 people at Fort Hood in 2009. I understand perfectly why people believe someone who deliberately murdered 13 innocent people deserves to die.
But then somebody still has to kill him.
Imagine if the president who authorized an execution had to stand there himself. Here’s the rifle, Mr. President. There’s the condemned man. When you’re ready, pull the trigger.
Would presidents still authorize executions as readily if they personally had to perform them? Maybe they would. I couldn’t.
And that’s the distinction that fascinates me. Humans have created ways of killing that separate the person making the decision from the person who has to kill.
Presidents give orders. Generals select targets. Pilots release bombs. Drone operators press buttons. Executioners administer drugs. Firing squads pull triggers.
And at the other end of that chain is a human heart that was beating and then isn’t.
Of course, one can argue that sometimes leaders have no choice. A president may have to authorize military action to protect millions of people. A commander may have to destroy an enemy position before that enemy attacks his troops. A leader may have to make a decision that kills hundreds today because he believes it will prevent thousands or millions from dying tomorrow.
Head-to-head, with somebody trying to kill me or someone I love? Yes. I believe I could kill without hesitation.
But from 5,000 miles away? A person I’ve never met? A family I can’t see? Schoolchildren who happen to be nearby?
I’m afraid not. I simply don’t have what it takes.
And maybe the most frightening question isn’t why some human beings can kill. Maybe it’s this: What happens to a human being when killing becomes just another decision made at a desk.