Criminal Psychology, Hans Gross [motivational books for students .txt] 📗

37% had never been in the woods, 62% never on the mountains, and 73% did not know how bread was made from grain. Involuntarily the question arises, what must be the position of the unfortunate children of large cities, and moreover, what may we expect to hear from children who do not know things like that, and at the same time speak of them easily? Adults are not free from this difficulty either. We have never yet seen a living whale, or a sandstorm in the Sahara, or an ancient Teuton, yet we speak of them confidently and profoundly, and never secure ourselves against the fact that we have never seen them. Now, as we of the ancient Teuton, so children of the woods; neither have seen them, but one description has as much or as little value as the other.

Concerning the integration of senses, Binet and Henri[283] have examined 7200 children, whom they had imitate the length of a model line, or pick out from a collection of lines those of similar length. The latter experiment was extraordinarily successful.

The senses of children are especially keen and properly developed. It is anatomically true that very young children do not hear well; but that is so at an age which can not be of interest to us. Their sense of smell is, according to Heusinger, very dull, and develops at the time of puberty, but later observers, in particular those who, like Hack, Cloquet and others, have studied the sense of smell, say nothing about this.

Concerning the accuracy of representation in children authorities are contradictory. Montaigne says that all children lie and are obstinate. Bourdin corroborates him. Maudsley says that children often have illusions which seem to them indubitably real images, and Mittermaier says that they are superficial and have youthful fancies. Experience in practice does not confirm this judgment. The much experienced Herder repeatedly prizes children as born physiognomists, and Soden values the disinterestedness of children very highly. According to Löbisch, children tell untruths without lying. They say only what they have in mind, but they do not know and care very little whether their mental content is objective and exists outside of them, or whether only half real and the rest fanciful. This is confirmed by legal experience which shows us, also, that the subjective half of a child’s story may be easily identified. It is characteristically different from the real event and a confusion of the two is impossible.

We must also not forget that there are lacunae in the child’s comprehension of what it perceives. When it observes an event, it may, e.g., completely understand the first part, find the second part altogether new and unintelligible, the third part again comprehensible, etc. If the child is only half-interested, it will try to fill out these lacunae by reflection and synthesis, and may conceivably make serious blunders. The blunders and inaccuracies increase the further back the event goes into the child’s youth. The real capacity for memory goes far back. Preyer[284] tells of cases in which children told of events that they had experienced at thirty-two, twenty-four, and even eighteen months, and told them correctly. Of course, adults do not recall experiences of such an early age, for they have long since forgotten them. But very small children can recall such experiences, though in most cases their recollection is worthless, their circle of ideas being so small that the commonest experiences are excluded from adequate description. But they are worth while considering when a mere fact is in question, or is to be doubted (Were you beaten? Was anybody there? Where did the man stand?).

Children’s determinations of time are unreliable. Yesterday and to-day are easily confused by small children, and a considerably advanced intelligence is necessary to distinguish between yesterday and a week ago, or even a week and a month. That we need, in such cases, correct individualization of the witness is self-evident. The conditions of the child’s bringing-up, the things he learned to know, are what we must first of all learn. If the question in hand can fit into the notion the child possesses, he will answer better and more if quite unendowed, than if a very clever child who is foreign to the notions of the defined situation. I should take intelligence only to be of next importance in such cases, and advise giving up separating clever from stupid children in favor of separating practical and unpractical children. The latter makes an essential difference. Both the children of talent and stupid children may be practical or unpractical. If a child is talented and practical he will become a useful member of society who will be at home everywhere and will be able to help himself under any circumstances. If a child is talented and unpractical, it may grow up into a professor, as is customarily expected of it. If a child is untalented and practical, it will properly fill a definite place, and if it has luck and “pull” may even attain high station in life. If it is untalented and unpractical it becomes one of those poor creatures who never get anywhere. For the rôle of witness the child’s practicality is the important thing. The practical child will see, observe, properly understand, and reproduce a group of things that the unpractical child has not even observed. Of course, it is well, also, to have the child talented, but I repeat: the least clever practical child is worth more as witness than the most clever unpractical child.

What the term “practical” stands for is difficult to say, but everybody knows it, and everybody has seen, who has cared about children at all, that there are practical children.

Section 81. (3) Juvenile Delinquency.

There have never lacked authors who have assigned to children a great group of defects. Ever since Lombroso it has been the custom in a certain circle to find the worst crimes already foreshadowed in children. If there are congenital criminals it must follow that there are criminals among children. It is shown that the most cruel and most unhuman men, like Nero, Caracalla, Caligula, Louis XI, Charles IX, Louis XIII, etc., showed signs of great cruelty, even in earliest childhood. Perez cites attacks of anger and rage in children; Moreau, early development of the sense of vengeance, Lafontaine, their lack of pity. Nasse also calls attention to the cruelty and savagery of large numbers of children, traits shown in their liking for horror-stories, in the topsy-turvy conclusion of the stories they tell themselves, in their cruelty to animals. Broussais[285] says, “There is hardly a lad who will not intentionally abuse weaker boys. This is his first impulse. His victim’s cries of pain restrain him for a moment from further maltreatment, if the love of bullying is not native with him. But at the first offered opportunity he again follows his instinctive impulse.”

Even the power of training is reduced and is expressed in the proverb, that children and nations take note only of their last beating. The time about, and especially just before, the development of puberty seems to be an especially bad one, and according to Voisin[286] and Friedreich,[287] modern man sees in this beginning of masculinity the cause of the most extraordinary and doubtful impulses. Since Esquirol invented the doctrine of monomanias there has grown up a whole literature, especially concerning pyromania among girls who are just becoming marriageable, and Friedreich even asserts that all pubescent children suffer from pyromania, while Grohmann holds that scrofulous children are in the habit of stealing.

When this literature is tested the conclusion is inevitable that there has been overbold generalization. One may easily see how. Of course there are badly behaved children, and it is no agreement with the Italian positivists to add, also, that a large number of criminals were good for nothing even in their earliest youth. But we are here concerned with the specific endowment of childhood, and it is certainly an exaggeration to set this lower than that of maturity. If it be asked, what influence nurture and training have if children are good without it, we may answer at once, that these have done enough in having supplied a counterbalance to the depraving influences of life,—the awakening passions and the environment.

Children who are bad at an early age are easily noticeable. They make noise and trouble as thousands of well-behaved children do not, and a poor few of such bad ones are taken to be representative of all. What is silent and not significant, goes of itself, makes no impression, even though it is incomparably of greater magnitude. Individual and noisy cases require so much attention that their character is assigned to the whole class. Fortune-telling, dreams, forewarnings, and prophecies are similarly treated. If they do not succeed, they are forgotten, but if in one case they succeed, they make a great noise. They appear, therefore, to seduce the mind into incorrectly interpreting them as typical. And generally, there is a tendency to make sweeping statements about children. “If you have understood this, you understand that also,” children are often told, and most of the time unjustly. The child is treated like a grown man to whom this has occurred as often as that, and who has intelligence enough and experience enough to apply this to that by way of identification. Consider an exaggerated example. The child, let us say, knows very well that stealing is dishonorable, sinful, criminal. But it does not know that counterfeiting, treachery, and arson are forbidden. These differences, however, may be reduced to a hair. It knows that stealing is forbidden, but considers it permissible to “rag” the neighbors’ fruit. It knows that lying is a sin, but it does not know that certain lies become suddenly punishable, according to law, and are called frauds. When, therefore, a boy tells his uncle that father sent him for money because he does not happen to have any at home, and when the little rascal spends the money for sweets, he may perhaps believe that the lie is quite ugly, but that he had done anything objectively punishable, he may be totally unaware. It is just as difficult for the child to become subjective. The child is more of an egoist than the adult; on the one hand, because it is protected and watched in many directions by the adult; on the other, because, from the nature of things, it does not have to care for anybody, and would go ship-wreck if it were not itself cared for. The natural consequences are that it does not discover the limits between what is permissible, and what is not permissible. As Kraus says,[288] “Unripe youth shows a distinct quality in distinguishing good and evil. A child of this age, that is required to judge the action or relations of persons, will not keep one waiting for the proper solution, but if the action is brought into relation to its selfhood, to its own personality, there is a sudden disingenuity, a twisting of the judgment, an incapacity in the child to set itself at the objective point of view.” Hence, it is wrong to ask a child: “Didn’t you know that you should not have done this thing?” The child will answer, “Yes, I knew,” but it does not dare to add, “I knew that other people ought not do it, but I might.” It is not necessary that the spoiled, pampered pet should say this; any child has this prejudiced attitude. And how shall it know the limit between what is permitted it, and what is not? Adults must work, the child plays; the mother must cook, the child comes to the laden table; the mother must