It is not at all easy to discover Mr. Whiteway's meaning. His intention is clear enough. He wishes to attack what he calls, not very appositely—"Pedantic Penology." Again and again he refers to this science, not without a fine scorn, as "Criminology," which, of course, is a very different matter. The volume, however, may be taken as a plea for a more scientific method of punishing criminals. He advances several main contentions, and from none of them will the social reformer be disposed to differ. He would reform the English court of first instance, and, indeed, the lay and unpaid magistracy of this country is the least creditable feature of our legal system; he would compensate those against whom crimes are committed; he would compensate the innocently accused; he would improve the assize system by more frequent gaol deliveries, presided over by a kind of commissioner something less in importance than the judge of assize. But all this is apart from penal science. Mr. Whiteway's main contention is that prisons should be moral hospitals, somewhat on the lines of the famous Elmira experiment. In his curious, half-flippant way, the author makes out a good case for a method of treating criminals, which is usually regarded as the dream of the sentimentalist rather than the suggestion of the scientist. Here is the pith of his proposal—
"The chances of moralization (in the proposed moral hospitals) are increased by the use of the indeterminate sentence, which practically leaves it within fairly wide limits in the hands of the capable manager to choose how long the prisoner is to be detained and the exact date at which he shall be liberated on parole. The mode of treatment at Elmira is to keep each inmate always either mentally or physically occupied, and never to leave him time to plan new schemes of crime. Among the actual means adopted are proper hygienic arrangements, including Turkish baths, massage, and a special dietary. The learning of a trade and careful moral and intellectual training, continually alternating with active physical exercise, complete the curriculum."
Here is an outlined Elysium in the way of prisons. And yet Mr. Whiteway is no sentimentalist, for he believes in flogging, and in very serious flogging, and he would sternly repress fraudulent company promoting—a crime which excites his ire, justly, no doubt, but somewhat disproportionately, since his central standpoint is to regard all crime, more or less, as disease. If there is a disease kleptomania, is there not also a disease company-promotomania?
The fact is that we cannot reduce all punishment to a class. It is not solely repressive, nor solely retributive, nor solely preventive. Mr. Whiteway neglects the duty of society to itself in his effort to express society's duty to the individual criminal. It is easy to say we have developed a foolish idea of abstract justice and lost the utilitarian balance altogether. But, however we may argue, there does lurk somewhere the idea of an abstract justice—a rapacious idea which must be appeased. And punishment can never be a mere "curriculum" so long as human beings are—human. It is revengeful, for wrongdoing is doing a wrong, and the body corporate has a right to resent the wrong, not merely to forgive it and prevent its recurrence. For all that, in spite of a curious style which is very difficult to follow, and a method of humour which occasionally is difficult to defend, Mr. Whiteway has contributed some acute reflections and sharp criticisms on the present penal methods. In this respect the book is valuable, but it has sufficient matter in it to make a far more worthy treatise.
—The Economic Review, Volume 12 [1902]
