SECTION VIII.--_Of the Right of the sword_.

1. _By the right of the sword_ is technically meant the right of

inflicting capital punishment, according to the Apostle's words: "But

if thou do that which is evil, fear: for he beareth not the sword in

vain." (Rom. xiii. 4.) We commonly call it _the power of life and

death_.

2. That a government may be a working government, as it should be (s.

iv., n. 2, p. 319), it must not only make laws, but bear out and

enforce its legislation by the sanction of punishment. "If talk and

argumentation were sufficient to make men well-behaved, manifold and

high should be the reward of talkers.... But in fact it appears that

talking does very well to incite and stimulate youths of fine mind;

and lighting upon a noble character and one of healthy tastes, it may

dispose such a person to take up the practice of virtue: but it is

wholly unable to move the multitude to goodness; for it is not their

nature to obey conscience, but fear, nor to abstain from evil because

it is wrong, but because of punishments. The multitude live by

feeling: they pursue the pleasures that they like and the means

thereto, and shun the opposite pains, but they have no idea, as they

have had no taste, of what is right and fair and truly sweet.... The

man who lives by feeling will not listen to the voice of reason, nor

can he appreciate its warning. How is it possible to divert such a one

from his course by argument? Speaking generally, we say that passion

yields not to argument but to constraint.... The multitude obey on

compulsion rather than on principle, and from fear of pains and

penalties rather than from a sense of right. These are grounds for

believing that legislators, while exhorting to virtue and putting

certain courses of conduct forward as right and honourable, in the

expectation that good men will obey the call, as their habits lead

them, should at the same time inflict chastisements and punishments

upon the crossgrained and disobedient; and as for the incurably

vicious, put them beyond the pale altogether. The result will be, that

the decent and conscientious citizen will listen to the voice of

reason, while the worthless votary of pleasure is chastened by pain

like a beast of burden.... Law has a coercive function, appealing to

force, notwithstanding that it is a reasoned conclusion of practical

wisdom and intelligence. The interference of persons is odious, when

it stands out against the tide of passion, even where it is right and

proper to interfere; but no odium attaches to statute law enjoining

the proper course." (Aristotle, _Ethics_, X., ix.)

3. Aristotle seems hard upon the masses, likening them to brutes who

must be governed by the whip. He may be supposed to speak from

experience of the men of his time. If humanity has somewhat improved

in two and twenty centuries, yet it cannot be contended that the whip

is grown unnecessary and beyond the whip the sword. But we must

observe a certain _modus operandi_ of punishment which Aristotle has

not noted, a more human mode than the terror of slavish fear. Just

punishment, felt as such, stimulates the conscience to discern and

abhor the crime. Men would think little of outraging their own nature

by excess, did they not know that the laws of God and man forbid such

outrage. Again, they would think little even of those laws, were not

the law borne out by the sanction of punishment. A law that may be

broken with impunity is taken to be the toying of a legislator not in

earnest. Men here are as children. A child is cautioned against lying.

He reckons little of the caution: he tells a lie, and a flogging

ensues. Thereupon his mind reverts to what he was told: he sees that

the warning was meant in earnest. He reflects that it must have been a

wicked thing, that lie which his father, the object of his fond

reverence, chastises so sternly. If the thing had been let pass, he

would scarcely have regarded it as wicked. Next time he is more on his

guard, not merely because he fears a beating, but because he

understands better than before that lying is wrong. The awe in which

grown-up people stand of "a red judge," is not simple fear, like that

which keeps the wolf from the flock guarded by shepherds and their

dogs: but they are alarmed into reflection upon the evil which he is

God's minister to avenge, and they are moved to keep the law, "not

only for wrath, but for conscience sake." From this we see that for

punishment to be really salutary, its justice must be manifest to the

culprit, or to the lookers on, at least in their cooler moments. A

punishment the justice of which is not discernible, may quell for the

moment, but it does not moralise, nor abidingly deter. There must be

an apparent proportion between the offence and the punishment. A

Draconian code, visiting petty offences with the severity due to high

misdemeanours, is more of an irritant than a represser of crime,

because it goes beyond men's consciences.

4. There is in every human breast a strong sense of what the learned

call _lex talionis_, and children _tit for tat_. "If a man has done to

him what he has done to others, that is the straight course of

justice;" so says the canon of Rhadamanthus, quoted by Aristotle.

(_Eth_., V., v., 3.) We have argued the fundamental correctness of

this rule. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., n. 2, p. 169.) It appears in

the divine direction given to Nod: "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, his

blood shall be shed." (Gen. ix. 6.) It appears in that popular

sentiment, which in some parts of America displays itself in the

lynching of murderers, who have unduly escaped the hands of the law;

and which, under a similar paralysis of law in Corsica, broke out in

blood-feuds, whereby the nearest relative of the deceased went about

to slay the murderer. Such taking of justice into private hands is

morally unlawful, as we have proved. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., n. 4,

p. 171; _Natural Law_, c. viii., s. ii., nn. 2, 3, pp. 308, 309.) It

is a violent outburst of a natural and reasonable sentiment deprived

of its legitimate vent. Unquestionably then there is an apparent and

commonly recognized fairness of retribution in the infliction of

capital punishment for murder. Thus the first condition of appropriate

punishment is satisfied, that it be _manifestly proportioned to the

crime_.

5. Capital punishment is moreover expedient, nay, necessary to the

State. The right to inflict it is one of the essential prerogatives of

government, one of those prerogatives the sum of which, as we have

seen, is a constant quantity everywhere, (s. iv., n. 7, p. 322). No

Government can renounce it. The abolition of capital punishment by law

only makes the power of inflicting it _latent_ in the State (s. iv.,

n. 8, p. 323); it does not and cannot wholly take the power away. You

ask: Is there not hope, that if humanity goes on improving as it has

done, capital punishment will become wholly unnecessary? I answer

that--waiving the question of the prospect of improvement--in a State

mainly consisting of God-fearing, conscientious men, the _infliction_

of capital punishment would rarely be necessary, but the _power to

inflict it_ could never be dispensed with. If men ever become so

ideally virtuous, the right of the State to visit gross crime with

death cannot hurt them, and it will strengthen their virtue, as all

human social virtue will ever need strengthening.

6. The abiding necessity of this _right of the sword_ is argued from

the strength and frequency of the provocations to deeds of bloodshed

and violence that must ever be encountered in human society. What

these provocations are, how many and how strong, may be left to the

reflection of the student who reads his newspaper, or even his novel.

Not the least appalling thing about crime, atrocious crime especially,

is the example that it gives and the imitators whom it begets. It is

not merely that it sets the perpetrator himself on the downward path,

so that, unless detected and punished, a man's first deed of blood is

rarely his last: it draws others after him by a fatal fascination.

Like the images which the Epicureans supposed all visible objects to

slough off and shed into the air around them, such phantoms and images

of guilt float about a great crime, enter into the mind of the

spectator and of the hearer, and there, upon slight occasion, turn to

actual repetitions of the original deed. The one preventive is to

append to that deed a punishment, the image of which shall also enter

into the mind, excite horror, and disenchant the recipient. This is

not to be done by mere banishment of the criminal, nor by his

perpetual incarceration. Exile and prison--particularly in view of the

humanity of a modern penitentiary--do not sufficiently strike the

imagination. One sweet hour of revenge will often appear cheap at the

price of ten years' penal servitude. There is nothing goes to the

heart like death. Death is the most striking of terrors; it is also

the penalty that most exactly counterpoises in the scales of justice

the commission of a murderous crime. All States need this dread figure

of the Sword-bearer standing at the elbow of the Sovereign.

7. But is not every capital sentence a trespass upon the dominion of

God, Lord of life and death? No, for that same God it is who has

endowed man with a nature that needs to grow up in civil society,

which civil society again needs for its maintenance the power to make

laws, to sit in judgment on transgressors, and in extreme cases, as we

have proved, having tried them and found them guilty, to take away

even their lives, to the common terror and horror of the crime. God,

who wills human nature to be, wills it to be on the terms on which

alone it can be. To that end He has handed over to the civil ruler so

much of His own divine power of judgment, as shall enable His human

delegate to govern with assurance and effect. That means the right of

the sword.

8. It may be objected that to kill any man is to treat him as a

_thing_, not a person, as an _heterocentric_, not an _autocentric_

being, which is a proceeding essentially unnatural and wrong, (c. ii.,

s. i., n. 2, p. 203.) St. Thomas's answer here is peculiarly valuable:

"Man by sinning withdraws from the order of reason, and thereby falls

from human dignity, so far as that consists in man being naturally

free and existent for his own sake [autocentric]; and falls in a

manner into the state of servitude proper to beasts, according to that

of the Psalm (xlviii. 15): _Man when he was in honour did not

understand: he hath matched himself with senseless beasts and become

like unto them_; and Proverbs xi. 29: _The fool shall serve the wise_.

And therefore, though to kill a man, while he abides in his native

dignity, be a thing of itself evil, yet to kill a man who is a sinner

may be good, as to kill a beast. For worse is an evil man than a

beast, and more noxious, as the Philosopher says." (2a 2æ, q. 64, art.

2, ad 3.)

Hence observe:--(1) That a Utilitarian who denies free will, as many

of that school do, stands at some loss whence to show cause why even

an innocent man may not be done to death for reasons of State, _e.g._,

as a sanitary precaution.

(2) That the State must come to a conclusion about inward dispositions

by presumption from overt acts, arguing serious moral guilt before

proceeding to capital punishment. To this extent the State is remotely

a judge of sin. But it does not punish sin _retributively_ as sin, nor

even _medicinally_. It punishes the violation of its own laws, to

_deter_ future offenders. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., nn. 4-6, pp.

171-174.)

_Readings_.--St. Thos., 2a 2æ, q. 64, art. 2, 3; 2a 2æ, q. 108, art.

3.

Moral Philosophy: Ethics, Deontology and Natural Law · 第 8 / 12 章