Part 42

How, then, could God blame Man for the Fall?

But you may ask me, with surprise, as so many have asked me with surprise, "Do you really mean that no man is, under any circumstances, to be blamed for anything he may say or do?"

And I shall answer you that I do seriously mean that no man can, under any circumstances, be justly blamed for anything he may say or do. That is one of my deepest convictions, and I shall try very hard to prove that it is just.

But you may say, as many have said: "If no man can be justly blamed for anything he says or does, there is an end of all law and order, and society is impossible."

And I shall answer you: "No, on the contrary, there is a beginning of law and order, and a chance that society may become civilised."

For it does not follow that because we may not blame a man we may not condemn his acts. Nor that because we do not blame him we are bound to allow him to do all manner of mischief.

Several critics have indignantly exclaimed that I make no difference between good men and bad, that I lump Torquemada, Lucrezia Borgia, Fenelon, and Marcus Aurelius together, and condone the most awful crimes.

That is a mistake. I regard Lucrezia Borgia as a homicidal maniac, and Torquemada as a religious maniac. I do not blame such men and women. But I should not allow them to do harm.

I believe that nearly all crimes, vices, cruelties, and other evil acts are due to ignorance or to mental disease. I do not hate the man who calls me an infidel, a liar, a blasphemer, or a quack. I know that he is ignorant, or foolish, or ill-bred, or vicious, and I am sorry for him.

Socrates, as reported by Xenophon, put my case in a nutshell. When a friend complained to Socrates that a man whom he had saluted had not saluted him in return, the father of philosophy replied: "It is an odd thing that if you had met a man ill-conditioned in body you would not have been angry; but to have met a man rudely disposed in mind provokes you."

This is sound philosophy, I think. If we pity a man with a twist in his spine, why should we not pity the man with a twist in his brain? If we pity a man with a stiff wrist, why not the man with a stiff pride? If we pity a man with a weak heart, why not the man with the weak will? If we do not blame a man for one kind of defect, why blame him for another?

But it does not follow that because we neither hate nor blame a criminal we should allow him to commit crime.

We do not blame a rattlesnake, nor a shark. These creatures only fulfil their natures. The shark who devours a baby is no more sinful than the lady who eats a shrimp. We do not blame the maniac who burns a house down and brains a policeman, nor the mad dog who bites a minor poet. But, none the less, we take steps to defend ourselves against snakes, sharks, lunatics, and mad dogs.

The Clarion does not hate a cruel sweater, nor a tyrannous landlord, nor a shuffling Minister of State, nor a hypocritical politician: it pities such poor creatures. Yet the Clarion opposes sweating and tyranny and hypocrisy, and does its best to defeat and to destroy them.

If a tiger be hungry he naturally seeks food. I do not blame the tiger; but if he endeavoured to make his dinner off our business manager, and if I had a gun, I should shoot the tiger.

We do not hate nor blame the blight that destroys our roses and our vines. The blight is doing what we do: he is trying to live. But we destroy the blight to preserve our roses and our grapes.

So we do not blame an incendiary. But we are quite justified in protecting life and property. Dangerous men must be restrained. In cases where they attempt to kill and maim innocent and useful citizens, as, for instance, by dynamite outrages, they must, in the last resort, be killed.

"But," you may say, "the dynamiter knows it is wrong to wreck a street and murder inoffensive strangers, and yet he does it. Is not that free will? Is he not blameworthy?"

And I answer that when a man does wrong he does it because he knows no better, or because he is naturally vicious.

And I hold that in neither case is he to blame: for he did not make his nature, nor did he make the influences which have operated on that nature.

Man is a creature of Heredity and Environment. He is by Heredity what his ancestors have made him (or what God has made him). Up to the moment of his birth he has had nothing to do with the formation of his character. As Professor Tyndall says, "that was done for him, and not by him." From the moment of his birth he is what his inherited nature, and the influences into which he has been sent without his consent, have made him.

An omniscient being--like God--who knew exactly what a man's nature would be at birth, and exactly the nature of the influences to which he would be exposed after his birth, could predict every act and word of that man's life.

Given a particular nature; given particular influences, the result will be as mathematically inevitable as the speed and orbit of a planet.

Man is what heredity (or God) and environment make him. Heredity gives him his nature. That comes from his ancestors. Environment modifies his nature: environment consists of the operation of forces external to his nature. No man can select his ancestors; no man can select his environment. His ancestors make his nature; other men, and circumstances, modify his nature.

Ask any horse-breeder why he breeds from the best horses, and not from the worst. He will tell you, because good horses are not bred from bad ones.

Ask any father why he would prefer that his son should mix with good companions rather than with bad companions. He will tell you that evil communications corrupt good manners, and pitch defiles.

Heredity decides how a man shall be bred; environment regulates what he shall learn.

One man is a critic, another is a poet. Each is what heredity and environment have made him. Neither is responsible for his heredity nor for his environment.