(no subject)
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He was silent for a moment or two and then said, "We think with horror now of the days when we burned witches. I believe the day will come when we will shudder to think that we ever hanged criminals."
"You don't believe in capital punishment?"
"It's not so much that." He paused. "You know," he said slowly, "I'd rather have my job than yours."
"Why?"
"Because your job deals very largely with what we call right and wrong-and I'm not all that sure that there's any such thing. Suppose it's all a question of glandular secretion. Too much of one gland, too little of another-and you get your murderer, your thief, your habitual criminal. Clement, I believe the time will come when we'll be horrified to think of the long centuries in which we've indulged in what you may call moral reprobation, to think how we've punished people for disease-which they can't help, poor devils. You don't hang a man for having tuberculosis."
"He isn't dangerous to the community."
"In a sense he is. He infects other people. Or take a man who fancies he's the Emporer of China. You don't say 'how wicked of him.' I take your point about the community. The community must be protected. Shut up these people where they can't do any harm-even put them peacefully out of the way-yes, I'd go as far as that. But don't call it punishment. Don't bring shame on them and their innocent families."
I looked at him curiously.
"I've never heard you speak like this before."
"I don't usually air my theories abroad. Today I'm riding my hobby. You're an intelligent man, Clement, which is more than some parsons are. You won't admit, I daresay, that there's no such thing as what is technically termed 'sin', but you're broadminded enough to consider the possibility of such a thing."
"It strikes at the root of all our accepted ideas," I said.
"Yes, we're a narrow-minded, self-righteous lot, only too keen to judge matters we know nothing about. I honestly believe a crime is a case for the doctor, not the policeman and not the parson. In the future, perhaps, there won't be any such thing."
"You'll have cured it?"
"We'll have cured it. Rather a wonderful thought. Have you ever studied the statistics of crime? No-very few people have. I have, though. You'd be amazed at the amount there is of adolescent crime-glands again, you see. Young Neil, the Oxfordshire murderer, killed five little girls before he was suspected. Nice lad-never given any trouble of any kind. Lily Rose, the little Cornish girl, killed her uncle because he docked her of sweets. Hit him when he was asleep with a coal hammer. Went home and a fortnight later killed her elder sister who had annoyed her about some trifling matter. Neither of them hanged, of course. Sent to a home. May be all right later-may not. Doubt if the girl will. The only thing she cares about is seeing the pigs killed. Do you know when suicide is commonest? Fifteen to sixteen years of age. From self-murder to murder of someone else isn't a very long step. But it's not a moral lack-it's a physical one."
"What you say is terrible!"
"No-it's only new to you. New truths have to be faced. One's ideas adjusted. But sometimes-it makes life difficult."
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