There are two letters in the “Clarion” this week which in various ways
interest me very much. One is concerned to defend Darwin against the
scientific revolt against him that was led by Samuel Butler, and among
other things it calls Bernard Shaw a back number. Well, most certainly
“The Origin of Species” is a back number, in so far as any honest and
interesting book ever can be; but in pure philosophy nothing can be
out of date, since the universe must be a mystery even to the believer.
There is, however, one condition of things in which I do call it
relevant to describe somebody as behind the times. That is when the man
in question, thinking of some state of affairs that has passed away, is
really helping the very things he would like to hinder. The principles
cannot alter, but the problems can. Thus, I should call a man behind the
times who, in the year 1872, pleaded for the peaceful German peasants
against the triumphant militarism of Napoleon. Or I should call a man
out of date who, in the year 1892, wished for a stronger Navy to compete
with the Navy of Holland, because it had once swept the sea and sailed
up the Thames. And I certainly call a man or a movement out of date
that, in the year 1914, when we few are fighting a giant machine,
strengthened with all material wealth and worked with all the material
sciences, thinks that our chief danger is from an excess of moral and
religious responsibility. He reminds me of Mr. Snodgrass, who had the
presence of mind to call out “Fire!” when Mr. Pickwick fell through the
ice.
The other letter consists of the usual wiredrawn argument for fatalism.
Man cannot imagine the universe being created, and therefore is
“compelled by his reason” to think the universe without beginning or
end, which (I may remark) he cannot imagine either. But the letter ends
with something much more ominous than bad metaphysics. Here, in
the middle of the “Clarion,” in the centre of a clean and combative
democratic sheet, I meet again my deplorable old acquaintance, the
scientific criminologist. “The so-called evil-doer should not be
punished for his acts, but restrained.” In forty-eight hours I could
probably get a petition to that effect signed by millionaires. A short
time ago a Bill was introduced to hold irresponsible and “restrain” a
whole new class of people, who were “incapable of managing their affairs
with prudence.” Read the supporters’ names on the back of that Bill, and
see what sort of democrats they were.
Now, clearing our heads of what is called popular science (which means
going to sleep to a lullaby of long words), let us use our own brains a
little, and ask ourselves what is the real difference between punishing
a man and restraining him. The material difference may be any or none;
for punishment may be very mild, and restraint may be very ruthless. The
man, of course, must dislike one as much as the other, or it would not
be necessary to restrain him at all. And I assure you he will get no
great glow of comfort out of your calling him irresponsible after you
have made him impotent. A man does not necessarily feel more free and
easy in a straight waistcoat than in a stone cell. The moral difference
is that a man can be punished for a crime because he is born a citizen;
while he can be constrained because he is born a slave. But one
arresting and tremendous difference towers over all these doubtful or
arguable differences. There is one respect, vital to all our liberties
and all our lives, in which the new restraint would be different
from the old punishment. It is of this that the plutocrats will take
advantage.