When I screw something up most spectacularly, my inclination is to feel that I should be punished, often disproportionately, and in any case not constructively. I have been led to understand that this relates to a common traumatic reaction: once persecuted, an individual becomes fixed in that role (typically in childhood) seeking out a new persecutor, and/or adopting the role of persecutor themselves in order to (re-en)act-out the same pattern again and again.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that it’s a screwed up behaviour in a case like this, but it leads me to thinking about the impulse to punish in a broader sense: Where does revenge come from? What does homo erectus stand to gain by hurting those who he perceives as having hurt him? It’s easy to rationalise that punishment is all about providing a deterrent, or about negative reinforcement and conditioning, but is that really what motivates us?
In the case of an animal, the obvious reason for seeking revenge is the prevention of further harm, i.e. that snake has killed one of my young, therefore I will kill it to prevent it from killing any more of my young. This is a good clear example, but it makes less sense in most cases: Unless the snake that ate your young seems likely to return, why seek vengeance on it specifically? Surely a better chance for survival is to be had in running away, or defending the remaining young against that and other potential snakes. If your aim is to eliminate the threat, why pick on that particular snake and not on its entire species?
I have seen cats take revenge, quite unmistakably. You wash the cat, then a little while later the perfectly house-trained cat soils your bedroom. You put the cat outside and refuse to let it back in, so the cat shreds (unerringly) your favourite plant.
The cat gains nothing from these behaviours, yet I strongly doubt that the cat is systematically eliminating the ongoing human threat to the dry fur and freedoms of all felines, either. Clearly, the cat is punishing us. Why?
