Econlib

The Library

Other Sites

Front Page arrow Titles (by Subject) arrow CHAPTER V.: OF MARTIAL LAW - The Works of Jeremy Bentham, vol. 1 (Principles of Morals and Legislation, Fragment on Government, Civil Code, Penal Law)

Return to Title Page for The Works of Jeremy Bentham, vol. 1 (Principles of Morals and Legislation, Fragment on Government, Civil Code, Penal Law)

Search this Title:

Also in the Library:

Subject Area: Political Theory
Subject Area: Law

CHAPTER V.: OF MARTIAL LAW - Jeremy Bentham, The Works of Jeremy Bentham, vol. 1 (Principles of Morals and Legislation, Fragment on Government, Civil Code, Penal Law) [1843]

Edition used:

The Works of Jeremy Bentham, published under the Superintendence of his Executor, John Bowring (Edinburgh: William Tait, 1838-1843). 11 vols. Vol. 1.

Part of: The Works of Jeremy Bentham, 11 vols.

About Liberty Fund:

Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.


CHAPTER V.

OF MARTIAL LAW

In England, in the case of seditious mobs, they do not begin with military assassination: warning precedes punishment; martial law is proclaimed, and the soldier cannot act till after the magistrate has spoken.

The intention of this law is excellent: but does the execution correspond with it? The magistrate is to go into the midst of the tumult, and read a long and tiresome formula which no one understands; and woe be to those who, an hour afterwards, are in that place! they are declared convicted of a capital offence. This statute, dangerous to the innocent, difficult to be executed against the guilty, is a compound of weakness and violence.

At the moment of disorder, the presence of the magistrate ought to be announced by some extraordinary sign. The red flag, so famous in the French revolution, had a great effect upon the imagination. In the midst of clamour, the ordinary means of language do not suffice. A multitude can only use their eyes: their eyes should therefore be addressed. A speech requires attention and silence, but visible signs have a rapid and powerful operation: they speak the whole at once; they have only one meaning, which cannot be equivocal: an intentional noise, a concerted report, cannot prevent their effect.

Besides, words lose their influence from a crowd of unforeseen circumstances. Is the speaker hated, the language of justice becomes hateful when uttered by him? His character, his behaviour, his first appearance, are these ridiculous? this ridicule extends to his functions, and degrades them—another reason for speaking to the eyes by respectable symbols, which are not subject to the same caprices.

But as it may be necessary to add words to signs, a speaking trumpet is essentially necessary. Even the singularity of this instrument would contribute to give more eclât and dignity to the orders of justice, by removing all idea of familiar conversation, by impressing the conviction that it was not the simple individual himself who was heard, but a privileged minister, the herald of the laws.

This method of making one’s self heard at a distance, has been long employed at sea, where distance, the noise of the winds and the waves, have made the weakness of the voice sensible. Poets have often compared a people in commotion to the sea in a storm: ought this analogy to be acknowledged only as a source of amusement? It would be of much greater importance in the hands of justice.

The orders should be in few words—nothing which appears like ordinary discourse or discussion—no reference to the king—but to justice alone. The head of the state may be justly or unjustly an object of aversion—this aversion may even be the cause of the tumult: to recal this idea would be to inflame the passions, instead of calming them. If he be not odious, why expose him to the liability of becoming so? Every favour, every thing which bears the character of benevolence, ought to be represented as the work of the father of his people. All rigour, all acts of severity, need be attributed to no one. The hand which acts may be artfully hidden. They may be thrown upon some creature of the imagination, some animated abstraction—such as justice, the daughter of necessity and mother of peace, whom men ought always to fear, but never to hate, and who always deserve their first homage.