CHAPTER XI

OUR ADMINISTRATION OF "JUSTICE" IS IMMORAL

When we read about the Turkish or other Eastern law courts, in which

direct bribery of every official up to the judge himself is a regular

feature, we are horrified, and are apt to proclaim the fact that our

judges never take bribes. But, practically, it comes to very nearly

the same thing in England. No single step can be made for the purpose

of getting justice without paying fees; while the whole process of

bringing or defending an action-at-law is so absurdly complex as to

be almost incredible. Jeremy Bentham satirised this by supposing a

father of a large family to adopt the same method of settling a dispute

between two of his sons. He would not hear either of them himself, but

each must tell his story to a stranger (a solicitor), who wrote it

down and then instructed another stranger (a barrister) to explain it

to the father (as judge) and twelve neighbours (the jury). Then the

stranger (barrister) on each side asked questions of all the family who

knew anything about it; and the barristers, who had only third-hand

knowledge of the facts, tried to make each witness contradict himself,

or to acknowledge having done something as bad another time; till the

jury became quite puzzled, and often decided as the cleverest of the

barristers told them.

That is really the system of law courts to this day; and it is grossly

unfair, because the party who can pay the highest fees for the

services of the most experienced counsel is most likely, through the

lawyer's skill and eloquence, to secure a verdict in his favour. Yet

there is no effective protest against this unjust and absurd system,

which absolutely denies all redress of wrongs to the poor man when

oppressed by a rich one. One would think it self-evident that justice

ceases to be justice when it has to be paid for. But the system is

so time-hallowed, the profession of a barrister so honoured, and its

rewards so great, that it will never be abolished till there comes

about in our social system that fundamental change which will cut at

the very root-cause of almost all our existing law-suits, immorality

and crime.

In our criminal as well as our civil law and procedure there is equal

injustice. When the poor man is accused of the slightest offence

and brought before a magistrate by the police, he is, even though

perfectly honest and respectable, treated from the very first as if he

were guilty, often refused communication with his friends; and, when

the accusation is serious, he is remanded to prison again and again

till evidence has been hunted up, or even manufactured, against him.

Experience shows that the latter is often done and a quite innocent man

not infrequently punished. The dictum of the law, that an Englishman

should be held to be innocent till he is proved to be guilty, is

absolutely reversed, and he is treated as if he were guilty till,

against overwhelming odds, he is able to prove himself innocent. There

is no possible excuse for this now, and at the very least every man who

has a home or a permanent employment should be at once discharged on

his own recognizances.

Equally unjust and barbarous is the system of money-fines, often for

merely nominal offences, with the alternative of imprisonment. To the

well-off, or to the habitual criminal, the fine is a trifle; but to

the poor man charged with being drunk, with begging, or with sleeping

under a haystack, or any such act which is no real offence, the common

punishment of 10s. or a week's imprisonment, leaving perhaps wife and

children to starve or be sent to the workhouse, is really far more

immoral than the alleged offence.

Again, our Poor Law itself, as usually administered, is utterly

immoral. This is what a competent authority—Mr. Sidney Webb—says of

it:

"Underneath the feet of the whole wage-earning class is the

abyss of the Poor Law. I see before me a respectable family

applying for relief. What do we do to them? We, the Government

of England, break up the family. We strip each individual of

what makes life worth living. When the man enters the workhouse

he is stripped of his citizenship—branded as too infamous

to vote for a member of Parliament. Once in the workhouse,

we put him to toil or to loiter under conditions that are so

demoralising that we turn him into a wastrel. And we strip

the wife of her children. We send her to the wash-tub or

the sewing-room, where she associates with prostitutes and

imbeciles. The little children, if they are under five, are

taken to the workhouse nursery, where they also are tended by

prostitutes and imbeciles. There they remain, day after day,

without ever going down the workhouse steps until they are old

enough to go to the Poor Law school, or until they are taken

down in their coffins, owing to the terrible mortality among

the workhouse babies."

Of course, all workhouses are not so bad as this, but many are, and

have been during the three-quarters of a century of their existence.

Can we, therefore, wonder that week by week some poor and honest

parents commit suicide rather than see their children starve, or be

separated from them in the workhouse! The people we thus drive to death

are many of them as good as we ourselves are; yet the "Guardians of the

Poor"—well-to-do gentlemen and ladies—go on administering it week

after week and year after year without protest or apparent compunction.

Such is the deadening effect of long-continued custom.

Social Environment and Moral Progress · 第 9 / 10 章