Pardon Me, but Isn't Lady Justice Supposed to be Blind?

 The United States Constitution empowers the executive branch, particularly the President of the United States, to issue pardons for people previously convicted of crimes. The Michigan Constitution empowers Michigan's governor to do the same. This power also extends to commutations of sentences, which is basically a reduction of sentence, usually to time served. 

I recently wrote about the abuse or mockery of this power when the Michigan governor (and the US President, for that matter) "pardons" turkeys for Thanksgiving. Nothing in either Constitution empowers them to pardon livestock or poultry. Yeah, I get it. It's just a "cute" thing they do. But from this side of the fence, it doesn't feel so cute. 

Now, the media is reporting that President Biden is considering "preemptively" pardoning several people before he leaves office. I'm no lawyer, but from what I've read in the Constitution, and in case law, there is no such Constitutional power that authorizes Presidents or Governors to preemptively pardon anyone. 

The dictionary definition for "pardon" is: excuse of an offense without penalty; esp.: an official release from legal punishment. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary, 2004). 

Technically, the dictionary definition does not define whether or not a person must first be convicted of such offense; however, I'm quite certain that the Founding Fathers intended this executive power to be used to release a person from punishment AFTER a conviction. That conviction does not have to be in a court of law. It can also occur in a legislative body, like the Senate. 

I'm really curious to see what the Constitutional experts have to say about "preemptive pardons." But Constitutional legality aside, this extension of executive power (and I would argue abuse of power) is just another example of the burgeoning powers of the executive branch. Rather than operating within the checks and balances implemented by the Founding Fathers, recent presidents (from both parties) have issued executive orders for agendas they know won't be passed by the House and Senate. Sounds like another "preemptive" practice to me. 

When those in power abuse their authority, protect themselves and others around them from accountability, and flout established Constitutional laws and principles, it sends a message to the people: There are two tiers of justice--one for the common people, and one for those with power, influence, and wealth. It de-legitimizes our judicial process when people with power can be shielded from accountability for their actions. 

As someone rightfully paying the price for the harms I've caused others, it disgusts me when justice only applies to the unconnected masses. When we lose the ability as a people to hold people in power accountable for their actions, there's no end to what they can do. And that's a scary thought.

Concrete Snow Globes -- Beauty in Prison and Other Unlikely Places and People

In my last post, I wrote about the importance of perspective, especially in difficult circumstances like prison. This past week, that theme presented itself again, but in a bit of a different way. 

I've written before about how important gratitude is, how it helps to shift our perspectives, to pull us up from depression, and to inspire us to be hopeful. I've also shared some of the things I've found to be grateful for in prison. 

Recently, we had a rather persistent snow shower that lasted all day. It didn't accumulate much more than a couple of inches, but it snowed HARD most of the day. 

As I walked in prison towards my job facilitating a substance abuse recovery group, the snow accumulated on my coat while my shoes sloshed through the slushy snow on the road. The persistent noise of prison cut through the blanket of sound-dampening snow, but the air was more peaceful than normal. 

I awed at the beauty of the snow, slowing long enough in my walk to appreciate it. My gaze shifted from razor wire background to the semi-sheer curtains of snow attempting to erase the evidence of prison. I couldn't help but notice the imposing brick and concrete structures around me, despite the beautiful snow in the midst of it all. 

"I'm living in a concrete snow globe," I thought wryly, fully aware of the existence of dichotomies all around me. 

How can the worst thing that happened in my life also be one of the best things that could have happened to me? Prison might have saved my life, but it definitely gave me the space to change my heart and mind. 

How can some of the most creative people I've ever met be in prison? They can't seem to create a different reality for themselves, returning time and time again to this concrete and razor wire jungle. 

How come it took coming to prison to form some of the best friendships I've ever had? There's no use wearing masks anymore when this concrete snow globe is like living in a glass house. People see everything. 

Why is it that some of the greatest love and grace I've ever experienced has been in prison? I thought those things were supposed to be prevalent in churches, not prisons. 

Maybe I just wasn't seeing rightly. Maybe it took prison to change my perspective. I can shift my perspective from concrete and brick walls to the cascading snow around me. Likewise, I can choose to focus on the beautiful parts of broken humanity around me instead of seeing only the brokenness. 

At times I only see the brokenness, the concrete and razor wire. Those are the times where my mind is burdened by disgust, regret, loss, and pain. But when I shift my perspective, even just a little, I see the beauty in the world around me, even in prison. 

Israel's leader Moses challenged them: "Before you are life and death. Choose life" (Deut. 30:19) Every time I shift my perspective and choose to see with hopeful eyes the beauty around me, even in prison, I choose life.