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Ned Kelly and the Limits of State Control

At the gallows the criminal was in the peculiarly privileged position to influence the narrative of his or her very own death. The criminal’s final words, actions and demeanour was an uncontrollable and unpredictable element of the spectacle that could shape its very legitimacy.

It is the reason why, as explored above, those running the execution were so keen to placate the criminal and ensure that he or she played the penitent. With this in mind it is instructive to look at the case of Ned Kelly, Australia’s most famous executed criminal, to assess the limits of state power and control over the �message’ that the execution spectacle could convey—even one that went exactly according to plan.

Ned Kelly was raised in Victoria’s High Country but was in and out of prison after he first got into trouble with the law at age fourteen for assaulting a Chinese man. A subsequent altercation with a policeman at the Kelly family home led Ned and his brother to take to the bush. Between 1878 and 1880 the �Kelly Gang’ were fully fledged bushrangers, robbing banks and homesteads (among other exploits). Earlier on they killed three policemen at Stringybark Creek who had been sent to arrest them. At their final showdown with police in the town of Glenrowan two years later, three of the Kelly Gang were killed. Ned Kelly—clad in his now-iconic homemade metal armour during the confrontation— was arrested soon afterwards and sentenced to hang.[346] Newspaper reports from the time indicate that Kelly died a �clean’ death on the scaffold and that he complied with the requests of his religious advisors as well as the sheriff and executioner. Moreover, his was a private execution. No one but officials and journalists were present at the hanging with members of the public completely excluded from the scene. As far as Ned Kelly's death was concerned, it was an execution to the letter, the best the state could hope for by the standards of the day.

It goes without saying that the execution of Ned Kelly had a long- lasting impact on the cultural memory of Australia. It started with Kelly's final words being reported in the colonial press. These last words—�Such is Life'—have since floated out of the cellblock window and into the public vernacular.[347] Moreover, Kelly's execution gave rise to a peculiarly Australian turn of phrase—�As game as Ned Kelly'— which connoted �the ultimate in bravery'.[348] As an example of usage, Father John Brosnan was the Catholic comforter to Ronald Ryan in 1967 (the last criminal to be executed in Australia) and used it to describe his final moments. Brosnan commented on the �courage' of Ryan; how his �step did not falter' as he mounted the gallows and looked the executioner squarely in the eye.[349] At the conclusion of Brosnan's eyewitness account he wrote that: �Murderer or not, the condemned man died well, “like a Kelly”, as they say'.[350] The symbol of Ned Kelly has since entered the Australian popular psyche, not as an index to punishment or triumphant state power, but as a celebration of �Australianness' itself. When stage performers at the Sydney Olympic Opening Ceremony in 2000 were playfully dressed in Kelly-like tin armour one historian suggested that, �it is probably fair to say that Ned Kelly meant nothing more for many young people than some­thing uniquely Australian, like water tanks, windmills, kookaburras and kangaroos: things that evoked the bush'.[351]

For those who know the story well, the reasons for Ned Kelly's execu­tion living on in the Australian consciousness are obvious enough. He was an Irish Catholic who felt short-changed by the Anglo-Protestant orthodoxy of the day and positioned himself in opposition to the local police and wealthy landowners. Many Victorians, especially those of the High Country, identified with such sentiments and it caused them to take a lesser view of the very real crimes the Kelly Gang committed.

In fact, at the time of his execution, some 60,000 signatures were collected protesting Kelly's execution, almost a fifth of the population of Melbourne.[352] [353] Eric Hobsbawm's work on �social bandits' and �prim­itive rebels' is not out of place when talking about Ned Kelly in this light.70 A violent and criminal subversion of dominant economic, power and social structures of colonial society was fodder for contemporary and later mythmakers who saw in Kelly a symbol of popular resistance.

What is interesting about the execution of Ned Kelly is that he behaved in total complicity with the executioner, clergy and sheriff yet Australian culture managed to find a way to subvert the official narra­tive of his punishment. Even when an execution went entirely according to plan, killers could become heroes and thugs the object of collective sympathy. Kelly is an obvious example of this phenomenon but it proves that the public still had it within their grasp to side with the criminal in counterproductive ways for the state. Clearly, the official lesson of the gallows—that crime had consequences—could always be amended, rejected or reinforced by those looking on. Despite the best efforts of key figures on the scaffold, there were limits on the ability of the state to control the message that a hanging communicated. The words and actions of the criminal on the scaffold could always be appropriated, or even totally disregarded, by an onlooker who was eager to interpret the merit of the punishment for themselves.

Colonial executions could go down two very different paths depending upon whether the criminal died penitent or �game’. The first option agreed with the wishes of those who ran the execution while the latter only served to distract from its intended lesson. Religious advisors like William Ullathorne and William Bedford prepared the condemned for their impending fate in the days leading up to the execution and instructed them on how to behave when at the gallows.

If the criminal did not obey religious instruction in his or her final moments, the sheriff and executioner were left to deal with any obstinacy and proceed with the penalty regardless. Private executions broke the immediacy of the crim­inal’s interaction with the crowd and their expectations. The interior of the prison provided an appropriate backdrop in which the punishment could be carried out. Criminals were placed at the centre of the execu­tion ceremony and their behaviour was well worth regulating for that very reason. However, as the case of Ned Kelly demonstrates, the narra­tive of their death was strongly influenced by individual perceptions and the way in which the broader culture reinterprets the events that took place on the scaffold. Although criminal behaviour could be manipu­lated in the moments leading up to their execution, there were still limits on how much the state could determine the meaning of the punishment after it had taken place.

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Source: Anderson Steven. A History of Capital Punishment in the Australian Colonies, 1788 to 1900. Palgrave Macmillan,2020. — 279 p.. 2020

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