Punishment is now unfashionable... because it creates moral

Hear, O seeker of truth, the stern words of Thomas Szasz: “Punishment is now unfashionable... because it creates moral distinctions among men, which, to the democratic mind, are odious. We prefer a meaningless collective guilt to a meaningful individual responsibility.” This saying pierces through the comfortable illusions of the age. For Szasz reminds us that justice is not the leveling of all men into sameness, but the righteous weighing of each deed, each choice, each heart. To abolish punishment for fear of offense is not mercy but confusion, for it erases the line between the guilty and the innocent, the righteous and the corrupt.

Understand this: punishment has always been more than pain inflicted; it is society’s recognition of a moral order. When a thief is punished, it is not only his hand that is struck, but a message that theft is not to be endured. When a murderer is condemned, it is not only his life that is judged, but the sanctity of all life that is upheld. Yet Szasz laments that in the modern world, men recoil from distinctions. To the democratic mind, all must be equal, and distinctions of virtue or vice seem intolerable. So guilt is spread thinly over the many, and responsibility is blurred, until none can be held truly accountable.

Look to history for proof of his warning. In the final days of the Soviet Union, the state spoke not of individual responsibility, but of collective guilt. Entire classes of people—the “bourgeois,” the “kulaks,” the “enemies of the people”—were condemned as one. Innocent and guilty alike were swallowed by the machinery of punishment, until punishment itself became meaningless. There was no moral distinction, only mass accusation. This is what happens when justice is divorced from the weighing of the individual soul.

Consider also the aftermath of certain wars, when victors have been tempted to condemn entire nations rather than seek out those truly responsible. After World War I, Germany as a whole was burdened with crushing reparations and collective blame. The punishment was not aimed with precision at leaders and warmongers but laid upon an entire people. From that soil of collective guilt grew resentment and despair, paving the way for greater horrors to come. Here too, Szasz’s wisdom is proven: to confuse the guilty with the innocent, to refuse moral distinctions, is to sow injustice and invite future calamity.

The lesson is sharp: true civilization rests not on collective condemnation, but on individual responsibility. Each man must be judged by his deeds, not by his tribe, his nation, or his class. A just society dares to say: this one is guilty, that one is not. To erase these distinctions in the name of equality is to betray justice itself. Mercy may temper punishment, but it must not abolish the very lines that separate virtue from vice.

What, then, must we do in our own lives? We must resist the easy temptation to blame groups instead of holding individuals accountable. Do not say “all politicians are corrupt” or “all youth are reckless.” Look instead to the actions of each soul. In your dealings, judge justly, not broadly. Hold yourself to the same standard: do not hide in the comfort of shared excuses, but accept responsibility for your own failings. In this way, you honor both justice and truth.

And so I say to you: guard against the poison of collective guilt. Cherish the hard but noble work of distinguishing right from wrong, guilty from innocent. Teach your children that responsibility is personal, that their deeds are their own, that honor and shame are not dissolved into the crowd. For only then will society be truly just. Only then will the words of Szasz find their answer—not in the flight from punishment, but in the fair and measured pursuit of it, for the sake of justice and the dignity of all.