OK. I'll nibble at that bait. It'll be more interesting than going around in circles on Harmon-Wright.
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"A crime is an offense against the dignity of the state." This is a concept that can be traced directly to Henry II (from 1154 AD), and his successful attempts to expand his royal power and influence by sending royal judges on "eyre" (circuits). A Plantagenet king, a Norman. An invader--starting with William the Conquerer in 1066, and ending with Henry II's son, king John circa 1217 who was the same king cornered at Runnymeade and forced at sword-point to accede to Magna Carta.
It is a concept alien and in contradiction to the common law. In fact, the whole reason the common law was asserted, and demanded was precisely because the Norman invaders pushed their law on the Britons. This is why Magna Carta makes reference to trial by the law of the land--it is referring to the ancient common law of England, the laws and customs that pre-dated the Norman invasion in 1066, legal customs and concepts that existed before law was written down (the period between the end of Roman rule over Britannia and the consolidation of power by Anglo-Saxon kings, say for the moment, Alfred the Great in the 800's, as a reference point where laws might have actually started being written down and disseminated again.)
Prior to Henry II's move to expand his power, trials were by ordeal (dunking in water, carrying a very hot iron) and battle. Trials were held, for example, every three months at the manor of the lord. Henry's judges offered an option--the accused could be judged by a royal judge instead of maybe drowning, having his hand badly burned, or losing combat. The accused had to ask for it--the beginnings of pleading guilty or not guilty. This last point, consent to be judged by the king's judge, morphed over time, but even in Tudor England (1500's), the courts felt impotent to proceed until the accused pled guilty or not guilty. Thus, in Elizabeth I's time (1558 to 1603), during the period of religious strife, some people were pressed with heavy iron, even unto death, to force them to plead to the indictment. This was not considered torture. It emphatically was not to coerce confession. It was to force them to plead to the indictment. Without that plea, government was powerless to proceed. Of significant importance is that the people being pressed were accused of political crimes--crimes against the state, crimes against the dictates of the Privy Council and Elizabeth.
Just for perspective, in the early days of this country, crime victims prosecuted their own cases. The government attorney only got involved in the most serious crimes. Even the name tells the tale: pro se cutor. For self speaker.
The idea that a crime is a crime against the dignity of the state is nothing more than a holdover from an usurpation that occurred long ago. Not at all unlike sovereign immunity--the idea that the king can do no wrong, and no mortal man can judge him because he rules by divine right. These are just legal artifices, constructs designed to give the state more legitimacy and power than it deserves.
Even if one argues that "the people" are sovereign (a crime being an offense against "the people'), it still misses. Such an argument relies on collective-ism: a crime against a single person is a crime against all.
Who knows where we'd be today if Henry II hadn't been power-hungry, trying to expand illegitimate power seized by his forebear William the Conqueror. Or, perhaps more to the point, to where might we progress if we abandon old, old legal falsehoods and continue the march toward liberty started on that morning in 1775 in Lexington and Concord?*
*Actually, the march toward liberty began far earlier--Magna Carta, at least. English political history to 1776 is one long story of government abusing or even squashing rights, and the victims pushing back, winning one piece of a right at a time across 560 years. Half a millennium of blood, smoke, treasure and suffering as men and women pushed back against the power-hungry.