Psychology and Crime. Holmes Thomas K.
knows no more of the true inwardness of things appertaining to the criminal mind, than ordinary observant men may know.
True, he can mystify us with scientific terms; he can talk about the conscious and the subconscious, and many other speculative things. He can give us measurements of the body and describe the exact angle at which a criminal’s ears stand, and the angle at which his chin recedes.
But when from these he proceeds to reveal the recesses of the mind at the back of the big ears, or the little chins, we feel that we are on an equality with the writer, for we know as much upon the matter as scientists or specialists can know.
Now these books have been written by all sorts of people: doctors of law and of medicine, scientists, professors, governors and chaplains of prisons, journalists and self-appointed specialists.
Mostly they come to us from the continent of Europe, where the various schools of psychological thought contend for mastery.
The Lombrosian school tells us how to detect the criminal by his physical conformation, or by the convolutions of his brain; but as the brain cannot be dissected while the criminal lives, this method of identification is of no practical use.
Another school will tell us how to detect the criminal by his behaviour whilst undergoing interrogation or standing his trial, when, not only his appearance, but his actions also are to be closely observed by judge and jury.
Should the accused smooth the hair upon his head with his hand, it is a sign of fear, for he feels a sensation at the roots of his hair as though each particular hair was standing on its end. He therefore involuntarily attempts to smooth it down. Now all this may be true, but it conveys nothing, and to take it as a sign of guilt is childishly absurd.
A perfectly innocent person may have a greater sense of fear than the most guilty criminal, for certainly the ultimate consequences of the trial are to him of far greater importance, and more likely to produce the sensation of fear. I have before me the latest addition to this class of book, so far as England is concerned. It numbers no less than five hundred pages, and each page contains at least four hundred words.
It comes to us from Austria, via America. Its translation into English must have been a stupendous task, for the author has laid the world under contribution, and given us selections from, and references to, hundreds of books dealing with criminal psychology: the result being an intensely interesting book.
Just how far the demeanour, actions and traits of foreign criminals may furnish safe guidance in the judgment of English prisoners, neither author nor translator tell us. But as the peculiarities of crime and criminals are generally questions of latitude and longitude, climate, environment, social condition and national temperament, so it seems to me that the psychology and mannerism of criminals must differ accordingly, and that the rules set up for guidance in one part of the world may be quite inapplicable to another part.
The author tells us that this book is a “manual” for judges, practitioners and students; for it deals not only with the psychology of criminals or suspected criminals, but with that of judges, magistrates, witnesses and police also. To every thoughtful layman I would heartily recommend this book, for it is well worth reading and pondering; but I would rigidly prevent all judges, magistrates and jurymen having access to it. Why? Because it is their business and prerogative to decide upon the guilt or innocence of the prisoner according to the weight of the evidence, every detail of which demands their concentrated attention if justice is to be done.
I can imagine nothing more disastrous to the administration of justice than a course of study of what is called criminal psychology. Students of human nature I would have them all to be, for such study is essential and leads to nothing but good. But to issue “manuals” that profess to instruct them upon the mysterious working of the human mind; to teach them to weigh the relative worth of provincial mannerism and individual characteristics; to tell the value of a look of the eyes, the smile of the face, and the movement of the hands; to teach them to notice all these things, and then by a process of inductive reasoning to decide upon the guilt or innocence of the individual may be criminal psychology, but it is rubbish none the less, and dangerous rubbish too!
Do the eminent writers of these books ever consider the effect likely to be produced on the minds of judges, magistrates and jurors who may read, believe and adopt their teaching?
Humbly, but very earnestly, I say that any magistrate, judge or juror who is steeped in this kind of teaching is quite unfitted by his supposed knowledge for the task he has in hand. For of all men, judges require the open mind and the clean slate and with them there must be no judgment formed apart from the evidence of fact. They of all men must not be inflated with the idea that they can “read people”—can see through them; that they, independently of evidence, can give a correct judgment.
Let us suppose that we compelled our magistrates, great and small, to pass an examination in criminal psychology, using these “manuals” as textbooks. I venture to say that a queer state of things would follow. The action of magistrates would be dominated by their own individual psychology, and their own psychology would be dominated by the effect the “manual” had produced on their mind. The shallow man would be assured of his competence and knowledge, and he would, to his own satisfaction at least, know all about it. But the greater man would hesitate; he would be in a quandary, on the horns of a dilemma, for he would find that the formula of his “manual,” by which he was to form an opinion as to the guilt of the prisoner, applied with equal force to the innocence of the prisoner.
Let us suppose a case where three magistrates form a Bench, each having been trained according to the “manual.” No. 1 is certain; No. 2 is diffident, and No. 3 is a dreamer and greatly interested in subconsciousness.
A prisoner is before them on a disgraceful charge; he is innocent, and has hitherto lived an irreproachable life. The prisoner protests his innocence, but cannot control himself; he wipes his brow, he smooths his hair, he clenches his fist, and his eyes flash fiercely.
Magistrate No. 1 notices all these things and says to himself: “The prisoner has no self-control; he is in fear, he is passionate, he is charged with a crime of passion, he is guilty!” But magistrate No. 2 also notices all these things and says to himself: “The prisoner is indignant, he feels his position acutely, for he is a respectable man; he fears the consequences the more because he is an innocent man; I am for his acquittal, but I am not sure, for his bearing is compatible with guilt or innocence.” Magistrate No. 3 has been eagerly looking for some proof of subconsciousness, and not having discovered any, he is uninterested in the mental equation that excites his colleagues.
Happy will that Bench be if it possesses a common-sensed old chairman who has not graduated in criminal psychology: who is content to be guided entirely by the actual evidence; and happy will it be for the innocent prisoner too!
So far as I have read these “manuals,” and so far as my personal experience goes—and it is not a short one—I have discovered no outward and visible signs that indicate a prisoner’s guilt that may not at the same time be taken as an indication of the prisoner’s innocence.
But supposing that our worthy magistrates, not being satisfied on psychological grounds, or for other reasons, decide to commit the prisoner for trial by judge and jury. Why, then, there will be curious happenings if judge and jury, with prosecuting and defending counsel, have been trained as per “manual.”
For the psychology of the various witnesses must be examined, declared and rebutted. The mentality of the police must be exposed, dilated upon, attacked and defended, and a clever lawyer would find ample scope for his ability by probing and peering into the mind of his lordship the judge. Really there would be no end to the possibilities, and a pretty state of things would eventuate, for the jury, although having previously given satisfactory proof that their minds were in good working order, would before the end be reduced to a psychological state bordering on imbecility, and would be rendered quite incapable of any but a confused judgment.
No, I am not exaggerating, for one “manual” in my possession gives instruction upon all these and hundreds of other useless points.
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