A Dish Best Served Cold

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

--”The Merchant of Venice”

by William Shakespeare

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When the families of the victims of the Oklahoma City bombing view the execution of Timothy McVeigh on closed-circuit television on Wednesday, what exactly will they be witnessing? Justice or revenge? Or both?

Those who say justice point out that McVeigh, responsible for the greatest single act of terrorism on U.S. soil, was not lynched by a mob or killed Jack Ruby-style before his day in court. Rather, he was tried, convicted and sentenced to die--all in accordance with the laws of the land.

And if justice is to contain a balance between crime and punishment, the thus far remorseless killer of 168 people will meet a relatively merciful end. Unlike his victims, McVeigh can make his farewells, has only one family to mourn him, and has only one life to lose. Further, his death will promote the goals of a just society by preventing him from murdering again, potentially deterring other killers and protecting the sacredness of innocent human life.

Those who call it revenge counter that one need only look as far as the closed-circuit broadcast for the victims’ families to divine the execution’s true motive. Vengeance, not “closure,” is what will have families watch McVeigh’s death--or else looking upon his funeral or burial would suffice.

More important, McVeigh’s killing will set back, not advance, the cause of justice, they say. It will perpetuate an immoral cycle of deadly violence where the final victim is not the Oklahoma City bomber, but humanity’s already fragile sense of dignity.

The debate over capital punishment highlights the complex--and interwoven--relationship between justice and revenge. The ever-present tension between the two can extend far beyond the heinous to even the most mundane. An encounter with a lane-cutting motorist can speed a person to the place where both concepts begin--a wrong has been done, now what to do about it?

“The key issue is punishment,” said the Rev. John P. Langan of the Kennedy School of Ethics at Georgetown University. “It’s part of our notion of justice and it can be motivated by revenge. It’s inevitable to expect a certain amount of overlap between justice and revenge.”

But of the pair, revenge is largely absent from explicit mention in public discourse. There is rarely an overt cry for revenge. It’s almost always framed as a call for justice, whether or not it truly is. And revenge has provoked little in the way of formal scholarship and research. On the few occasions when it does surface, it is usually as a silent partner to justice. This scarcity is especially odd considering revenge’s prominent place in pop culture, history and perhaps in human evolution.

“The focus today is on positive psychology issues such as forgiveness, trust and gratitude,” said Joseph Ferrari, a social psychologist at DePaul University in Chicago. “And revenge is a negative. Justice is more positive.”

Almost by definition, every civilized society regards revenge as a moral evil. It is abhorred because individuals--acting primarily upon emotion--inflicting wanton damage destabilizes communities, which ultimately can lead to chaos. Consider the almost mythic feud between the Hatfields and McCoys, Beirut circa the 1980s, or England’s War of the Roses, which lasted some 30 years.

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” said Elliot Dorff, a rabbi and professor of philosophy at the University of Judaism in Los Angeles. “Revenge doesn’t just affect two people; it affects everybody. It adds a tear to society. It brings you to a lowered state.”

Indeed, revenge dramas--from Greek tragedies to American literature--illustrate the often disastrous moral consequences of pursuing revenge. Such works as “Hamlet” and “Moby Dick,” for example, show the lead characters’ vengeful obsessions costing them their lives.

But revenge was not always looked upon so negatively. In many ancient cultures, revenge was considered almost a sacred duty, according to social psychologists. If a clan member were murdered, it was incumbent upon a family member to avenge the death by killing the attacker. The latest victim’s family would then seek their own vengeance, thus sparking a fierce cycle of violence that ended only when one side lacked the means or will to continue the fight.

In this world, which can be seen today among urban gangs or sectarian religious groups, failure to exact revenge could further endanger the clan because enemies, fearing no harm in return, could plunder its resources. The roots of this thinking probably reach back to the earliest days of human existence millions of years ago, according to evolutionary psychologists. The emerging field of study holds that human thinking and emotions, like the body itself, evolved to enhance survival and reproduction.

Although specific research on revenge is limited, the available evidence suggests humans are genetically predisposed to it. Without rules or codes, early humans, who lived in hunter-gatherer societies, could have greatly benefited from avenging attacks, believe evolutionary psychologists. Revenge--the return of the original harm, plus an added punishment--no doubt discouraged an attacker from repeating the offense. Also, if successful, it built a formidable reputation for the avenger, making it unlikely anyone new would attack him, research suggests.

“Effective deterrence is the ultimate function behind the human passion for measured retributive justice. It is the reason why that passion evolved,” wrote evolutionary psychologists Martin Daly and Margo Wilson in the book “Homicide.” “But our passion for evening the score has thus become an entity in its own right, an evolved aspect of the human mind. Our desire for justice fundamentally entails a desire for revenge.”

But revenge, then as today, can be costly to the avenger. Plotting revenge distracted early humans from other critical life-sustaining tasks such as finding food and shelter, say evolutionary psychologists. And the act obviously could backfire, resulting in the injury or death of the would-be avenger. (After all, McVeigh will now die after “getting even” for the deaths of more than 80 people killed by federal law enforcement agents in Ruby Ridge, Idaho, and in Waco, Texas.)

Echoes of Evolution on Today’s Highways

The potent legacy of this revenge behavior is clearly still with us today even in understated ways. Think of road rage, usually an incident sparked by one thoughtless driver. The wronged party then seeks to deliver payback, often by driving more dangerously than the original driver.

The further irony is that all the early evolutionary benefits of revenge aren’t even present on crowded freeways. It doesn’t deter the offending driver from future attacks since he or she will never be seen again, and it doesn’t enhance a reputation for the same reason.

“Revenge is a behavior poorly designed for modern life,” said Aaron Sell, a graduate student in evolutionary psychology at UC Santa Barbara. “People who speed on freeways and risk their lives just so a total stranger can see their finger are really dumb. But it shows how powerful the behavior is.”

Revenge clings to the human psyche in the same way that a taste for high-fat foods still does, explain evolutionary scientists. Millions of years ago, these foods increased the chances of survival. But with the high level of exercise required within hunter-gatherer societies, obesity and cholesterol problems were not a consideration as they are in today’s sedentary culture.

Evolutionary scientists hasten to add that just because humans are genetically predisposed to a certain behavior doesn’t mean one is solely at the mercy of their genes. In the case of revenge, a host of psychological, cultural and social factors will influence whether a person acts on an initial impulse for revenge.

“For example, monks aren’t known for their feelings of revenge,” said Sell, who studies revenge at UCSB’s Center for Evolutionary Psychology through current events, controlled experiments and reviewing past research. “It’s perfectly possible to not engage in vengeful behavior.”

On Screen, Vigilante Justice Wins Approval

Humanity’s long and intimate relationship with revenge may explain, in part, why it is simultaneously despised as well as applauded in books, television shows and movies. In countless dramas “Dirty Harry”-like characters take the law into their own hands and administer their own “justice.” Meanwhile, audiences--far removed from the consequences of vengeance--wildly cheer these revenge-minded heroes.

“The villains are almost always one-dimensional evil, bad people,” said Frankie Bailey, a University of Albany professor who has studied crime and justice portrayals on television and the movies. “What happens to them, they deserve it. It’s an eye for an eye.

“It’s always easy to root for the protagonist because the villain shows no signs of humanity,” added the professor of criminal justice. “In the movie ‘Dead Man Walking,’ we see Sean Penn’s character [on Death Row for his part in the murder of a young couple] has done bad things, but we also have seen his suffering and it raises some real questions about whether his execution is fair and just.”

On an episode this season of cable television’s most popular show, “The Sopranos,” Dr. Jennifer Melfi is raped. Her attacker is arrested, but is released. Melfi, a psychiatrist, treats local mob boss Tony Soprano and fantasizes about him avenging her. She talks openly about having the rapist “squashed like a bug” with but a word to Soprano. Yet just as she’s going to mention it, she backs off and stays quiet.

Her failure to seek a swift and deadly revenge upset more than a few viewers accustomed to the time-honored dramatic conventions that dictate retribution outside the law. “Many colleagues privately muttered to me that they wish Melfi would let the rape slip to Tony and have him do in her ironically named rapist, Jesus,” said Philip A. Ringstrom, a Los Angeles psychotherapist who writes a weekly column for online magazine Slate about the show.

“Revenge is always the first impulse, which television’s broadcast of the execution of McVeigh panders to,” he continued. “As gratifying as revenge initially feels, and it surely does, it is ultimately insatiable, and self-perpetuating.”

While revenge dramas may not spur citizens to vigilantism, they may influence them in the jury box, Bailey believes. She cited John Grisham’s novel “A Time to Kill,” in which a father murders the men who attacked his daughter.

“Juries respond to narratives,” she said. “And people have been desensitized to a certain kind of [vigilante] violence. So, if a jury were presented with a case where a parent kills a child molester, they might be able to identify with the protagonist who takes violence into their own hands.”

The Difficulty of Remaining Objective

In real life, revenge and justice aren’t fiction or abstractions. To someone like Carolyn Richards, they are as authentic as a gun pressed to your temple. Four years ago, the 50-year-old and a friend were robbed at gunpoint in a parking lot north of Houston. After stealing about $100, the masked man then ordered both women into Richards’ van.

Inside the van, the assailant held the gun to Richards’ head. “My mind was going at 500 miles per hour, but I remember thinking, ‘Just stay alive, just stay alive,’ ” said Richards, now a college student studying psychology.

After about 15 minutes, the 17-year-old robber told the women to get out of the van. They did, but as he was driving away he sped toward the women, swerving at the last moment to miss them. “Talk about being victimized again,” recalled Richards, who is interning for a crime victim advocacy group called Texans for Equal Justice.

Police later arrested the assailant and he pleaded guilty to armed robbery and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. He’ll serve a minimum of six years in prison.

Was that justice?

“I can’t answer that question,” she said. “I’m too closely involved.”

But, she added, “Timothy McVeigh is going to get his justice.”