Nearly 90 Years After The Last Public Execution, The US Faces A New Debate

In August 1936, thousands gathered in Owensboro, Kentucky, to watch a man hang. The crowd had come to witness the execution of Rainey Bethea, in what is widely regarded as the last public execution in the United States.

Nearly 90 years later, the Pentagon has announced plans to livestream the execution of Nidal Malik Hasan, the former US Army psychiatrist convicted of killing 13 people at Fort Hood, Texas, in 2009.

If the broadcast goes ahead, an act of state punishment that Americans have long been kept from watching could once again become a public spectacle — this time, potentially, on screens across the world.

Hasan’s execution by firing squad is scheduled for December 3 at Fort Cavazos, formerly Fort Hood. Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth has defended the proposed broadcast on the grounds that the public should see the consequences of violent crimes.

The Pentagon says President Donald Trump has approved the execution and that the proceedings will be livestreamed. The announcement has drawn criticism from lawmakers, religious leaders and human rights advocates, some of whom argue that making an execution public risks turning punishment into entertainment.

The proposal marks a sharp departure from a practice the US abandoned after public hangings became associated with crowds, commercialised spectacle and the disturbing possibility of botched executions. It also raises a question that extends beyond the death penalty itself: what does a government communicate when it chooses not merely to carry out a punishment, but to broadcast it?

From Town-Square Spectacle To Behind Closed Doors

Public executions were once common in America. Authorities presented them as deterrents to crime and opportunities for communities to witness justice being carried out. Crowds gathered around gallows, preachers delivered sermons and condemned prisoners sometimes addressed spectators before their deaths. The events could resemble civic ceremonies, but the spectacle often overwhelmed their stated purpose.

Bethea’s hanging became a turning point in the public perception of executions. Thousands reportedly attended, and contemporary accounts described a carnival-like atmosphere.

The spectacle, combined with growing concerns about botched hangings and the public humiliation surrounding executions, helped strengthen opposition to carrying them out before crowds.

States increasingly moved executions behind prison walls. By the middle of the 20th century, public executions had largely disappeared from American life.

That retreat was not an end to capital punishment. Executions continued, but access was restricted to selected witnesses, officials and, in some cases, journalists. In 2001, the execution of Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh was transmitted by closed-circuit television to designated survivors and relatives of victims. It was not a public internet livestream.

Death penalty experts consulted by Reuters say they know of no previous lawful execution broadcast live to a general audience.

The Politics Of Making Punishment Visible

The proposed livestream reflects a different understanding of what public access to an execution might achieve. Hegseth has argued that viewers should see the consequences of attacks such as the Fort Hood shooting.

However, critics question whether exposing a wider audience to a state killing can deter violence, or whether it risks creating precisely the spectacle that earlier generations sought to leave behind.

Republican Senator Thom Tillis, who supports Hasan’s death sentence, called the livestream proposal “beyond disgusting”. Vice-President JD Vance has also expressed reservations, saying he would not watch if the broadcast went ahead.

Religious leaders and human rights groups have raised concerns about dignity, the normalisation of state violence and the risk of execution footage being repurposed for extremist propaganda.

The legal position remains uncertain. Army rules governing executions do not explicitly address internet livestreaming, and legal experts say any challenge could face significant obstacles.

Hasan may be able to seek judicial review, potentially delaying the execution, but the broadcast plan has no clear precedent in modern US military practice.

The internet has changed the scale of the question. A crowd at a gallows eventually dispersed; a livestream can be recorded, copied and circulated long after the event.

The Pentagon’s proposal therefore tests not only the boundaries of military execution policy, but also the idea that punishment must be visible to be understood. Whether the broadcast proceeds, the controversy has revived an old American debate: when does showing justice being done become a spectacle of death?