We Don't Need Another Hero?

In September The Differential Association celebrates superhero month! We'll be reading two (short) articles which explore the superhero genre from a cultural criminological perspective.

The first of these, 'Justice League?: Depictions of Justice in Children's Superhero Cartoons' by Lisa A Kort-Butler, deals with the representations of superheroes in children's cartoons, a study which throws up some fascinating insights, for example do these portrayals undermine confidence in the criminal justice system. If the police were effective surely there would be no need for Batman! As children lap up images of cartoon justice, are we instilling a normative ideology which reinforces dominant values?

The second article, 'Cultural Criminology and Kryptonite: Apocalyptic and Retributive Constructions of Crime and Justice in Comic Books' by Nickie D Phillips and Staci Strobl, examines paradigms of justice in American comic books, suggesting that the picture which emerged of content was more nuanced than they had anticipated, but that the enduring response was always one which operated outside the rule of law, motivated by vigilantism and a need for revenge.

Date: Tuesday 24 September
Venue: Mulligans Poolbeg Street
Time: 6pm

Beyond 'So What?' Criminology: Rediscovering Realism

The Differential Association returns, surfing the high of the 9th North South Criminology Conference in UCC, with Roger Matthews' article Beyond 'So What?' Criminology. Professor Matthews was one of the plenary speakers in Cork, and provided an electrifying and contentious talk based on the arguments made in this 2009 article, arguing that criminology was making itself irrelevant through lack of theoretical and methodological rigour and by its negligible impact on policy.

If the debate sparked by his plenary in Cork is any indicator, the article should prompt plenty of discussion on the current state of criminological research.

Date: Thursday 25th July at 6pm
Venue: Mulligan's back room, Poolbeg Street, Dublin 2

Michael Ignatieff's 'A Just Measure of Pain'

Michael Ignatieff's career may have taken him to the Canadian parliament and back, but for criminologists and penal historians he will remain entrenched in the mind as the author of the seminal 'A Just Measure of Pain'. The text, published in 1978, emerged contemporaneously with many classic 'revisionist' works from the likes of Michel Foucault and David Rothman - all presenting a retelling of the development of penal and coercive institutions. These authors took the period from the mid-eighteenth-century to the mid-nineteenth-century and attempted to account for the emergence of institutions of confinement and, for Foucault and Igntieff especially, the birth of the penitentiary.

Ignatieff seeks to explain the emergence of the penitentiary, epitomised by the opening of Pentonville Prison in 1842 as the first 'model prison', in the context of the Industrial Revolution and the dramatic societal upheaval this sparked. Ignatieff presents a comprehensive exploration of the period 1750 to 1850, incorporating social history and the biographies of key persons, such as penal reform entrepreneurs John Howard and Elizabeth Fry, to weave together a convincing argument to explain the place of the prison in history. Ignatieff argues that the prison emerged primarily as a result of middle-class fears of men displaced by the coming of the Industrial Revolution, which supplanted an earlier age in which strong bonds of allegiance and fealty held people together in rural communities.

He also suggests the presence of an ulterior motive behind the continued success of the prison as the default solution to crime. Despite the emergence of voices critical of the penitentiary project, going back as far as the mid-1800s, including claims that it could not rehabilitate nor did it reduce crime, the institution has persisted and thrived. This leads Ignatieff to question its purpose, stating that it may have served other ends than those official goals stated. He argues that the extension of democracy in the period was paralleled by increasing state power and control, and a decreasing tolerance for those members of society considered 'deviant'.

The comprehensive nature of the exploration in 'A Just Measure of Pain' is successful partly because it is built around 'levels of why', and an awareness that it was the interplay of myriad contingent factors which contributed to the emergence of the prison. These factors include the importance of the role of individuals, sudden crises sparked by over-crowding as a result of wars and the cessation of transportation, military demobilisation, a fear of 'masterless men', as well as broader philosophical ideas.

Ignatieff's work is perhaps best viewed as a history of ideas, and in this guise it succeeds wonderfully, presenting a history of the prison with a firm cultural grounding and as a product of the confluence of a variety of schools of thought. Ignatieff explores the religious philosophies of Quakerism and sects of NonConformist Protestantism and the importance of this ethos in an emerging approach to industry and social control. He delves into the idea that men could be improved, if subjected to carefully weighted influences, hard work and self-restraint. Enlightenment philosophy and utilitarian ideas also came together in this time - advocating rationality and scientific method - and evident in the work of thinkers like Bentham and Beccaria.

What becomes clear from the work is that the question of how do you punish humanely has been a perennial. Many of the measures designed to remould criminals were at first designed as civilised responses to the earlier implements of punishment, such as shackles and chains and expressive punishments like whipping and branding - however it was not long before the detrimental effects of many of the more progressive means of control were also exposed as harmful. For example, in this litany of 'humane cruelty', the use made of solitary confinement was criticised by many, including John Howard who saw the ill-effects it could unleash on individuals. Likewise, the early institutions used work as a means to numb the prisoner, rendering them malleable to benign influence. The departure from this approach evidenced by the current practicalities of prison work, intended to up-skill and prepare a prisoner for life on the outside, is interesting and speaks to the initial goal of prison as a place to capture men's hearts and minds. 'A Just Measure of Pain' is a stark reminder of the impossibility of eliminating the prospect of cruelty from places in which people are confined and subject to the care of others.

Also evident in the writing is the absolute importance of architecture, the period of prison building of the early nineteenth-century has little parallel in history, something akin to a modern period of castle-building. The architecture of confinement constructed throughout the nineteenth-century proved lasting, and very difficult to dispense with. Of such permanence was the architecture that it may go some way to explaining why today the concept of prison seems inevitable. However, the asylums which had emerged in the same period as the penitentiary, have now largely been supplanted by more modern means of dealing with their populations. This again raises the question of the ulterior motive of the prison, the idea proposed by Ignatieff to explain the continuance of the prison despite its seeming failure to deter or reduce crime.

Lucia Zedner, writing in 'Women, Crime and Custody in Victorian England' argues that Ignatieff's rose-tinted view of pre-Industrial Society was something he later qualified. Ignatieff posits that prior to the Industrial Revolution, the communitarian nature of justice allowed for the informal resolution of disputes, and the hierarchical structure of society meant that masters often handled crimes committed by their employees or peasants living on their land in a way which dealt with the matter effectively. In 1983, Ignatieff did indeed roll back on some of his arguments from 'A Just Measure of Pain':

"the history of the institution between 1780 and 1840 can be described as a passage from squalid neglect to hygienic order… Foucault’s work (and my own as well!) remained captive of that Weberian equation of the ancien regime with the customary, the traditional and the particularistic, and of the modern with the rational, the disciplined, the impersonal and the bureaucratic" ("State, Civil Society and Total Institutions: A Critique of Recent Social Histories of Punishment" Social Control and the State, Ed. Stanley Cohen and Andrew Scull, Oxford, Robertson, 1983, 75-105)

Zedner argued that the penitentiary project had not been completed by the opening of Pentonville in 1842, something which Ignatieff seemed to accept in 1983. Zedner and Mary Bosworth have both argued that the 'revisionist' texts, including 'A Just Measure of Pain', also neglect the position of women within the penitentiary system. Another notable absence in the book is any mention of Norbert Elias' concept of the 'civilising process' as well as the lack of reference to Emile Durkheim's work on the consensus of the majority, and the imposition of this consensus.

The final chapter of the book is certainly the weakest. Lacking the masterful use of historical and cultural detail which is evident elsewhere, it presents propositions which seem unrelated to the central thesis, lacking evidential backing or coherent argument.  His argument throughout, that the prison emerged partly as a response to middle-class fears of this new class of 'masterless men', the threatening working-classes, is coherently constructed however, and provides the depth of social context lacking from a purely Marxist interpretation, such as the work of Rusche and Kirchheimer, for example. Ignatieff's comprehensive overview of the period is absorbing and adds welcome historical details to the phenomenon, details which were largely omitted by Foucault; rather, 'A Just Measure of Pain' provides an awareness of the importance of the distinct factors which prompted the emergence of the prison.

This month's blog was written by Lynsey Black.

The views expressed herein are those of the author's alone.

A Just Measure of Pain

The March book club choice is the classic text on the history of the prison, Michael Ignatieff's A Just Measure of Pain. Part of that pantheon of greats on the formation of the prison in its historical and social context, Ignatieff takes a look at the development of the institution from 1750 to 1850.

Where: Mulligan's, Pool Beg Street, Dublin 2 - in the back room
When: 6pm Wednesday 27th March

'Uppity Civilians' and 'Cyber Vigilantes': The Role of the General Public in Policing Cyber Crime

The month The Differential Association looked at an article from Laura Huey, Johnny Nhan and Ryan Broll, which explored the topic of cyber crime. The tantalisingly new frontier of the world wide web has delivered, Janus-like, both a communications and technological marvel of our time, as well as an unwieldy virtual space in which crime flourishes unchecked and unpoliced. For example, the article cites figures that only one in 6,500 online crimes are reported to the police, with most minor frauds drawing negligible actions from the authorities.

The costs of cyber crime are notoriously difficult to precisely state, as a recent University of Cambridge study has suggested. Previous estimates ranging in the tens of billions have been criticised as wildly inflated. The Cambridge research concluded that the costs of a state's antivirus software can often impose a greater financial burden on the nation's individuals than the direct costs of fraudulent internet schemes.

Huey et al argue that these costs of policing the internet impose onerous burdens on law enforcement, further suggesting that the forms which traditional policing takes are unsuited to a frontier which has no geography and to which we have yet to fully adapt. Traditional policing is built on a framework of geography, they write that forces are organised by divisions, by local policing areas, and by the individual's 'beat', and that such a framework struggles to cope with virtual space. They argue that the time and resources required for thorough policing of the Internet are beyond the scope of budgetary limits.

One of the most emotively charged areas of cyber crime, as well as the area that most often attracts resources, is that of child pornography and online grooming. This has been an area of persistent concern in recent decades. Rapid sophistication of our everyday technology has created uncertainty and anxiety as we run to get to grips with how our world has changed. Measures to combat child sex abuse have proliferated, such as the 2002 Sex Offenders Act, England and Wales, which explicitly criminalised for the first time the act of grooming a young person via internet communications. The Metropolitan Police in London, for example, have a covert Internet surveillance unit comprising over 50 investigators. Officers pose online as young children and a crime triggers an instant response from the team. This team was founded after the realisation by the Met that they would have to change how they operated, embracing pro-active targeting.

In this article, Huey et al have explored the work of "voluntary associations of citizens engaged in proactive policing on the Internet". These include online communities targeting various chat forums and websites, using their computer skills and time to identify and track criminal offenders. The article looks, in particular, at volunteer communities established to disrupt and deter the online activity of paedophiles. Members pose as children on chat forums, in an attempt to retrieve and pass identifying information along to the police. This kind of activity has been defined as 'civilian policing'.

The DA expressed wonder at the varying levels of evidence such activity would provide. The article tells us that many of these volunteers participate in training to ensure any evidence collected is legally admissible. While such training is crucial and without it the volunteers’ activity would be self-defeating, members wondered about how legally robust this training is. One group referred to in the article had a record of dozens of arrests and a 100 per cent conviction rate. However, once again acknowledging the transnational nature of the Internet, it would be interesting to have some idea of how this system worked across different legal jurisdictions.

The DA wondered whether such 'civilian policing' collectives were akin to David Garland’s concept of adaptive approaches to crime, described in Culture of Control as “usually developed by means of cumulative, low-visibility administrative decisions, rather than as announced policies subject to political or public debate”.

Garland's responsibilization strategy is defined as “an enhanced network of a more or less directed, more or less informal crime control, complementing and extending the formal controls of the criminal justice state”.  The police seek to build alliances with citizens to instil a sense of responsibility for crime-fighting, and to diffuse the onus of policing, such strategies include the now ubiquitous Neighbourhood Watch schemes. The difficulty emerges in trying to instil a sense of responsibility for something always previously assumed to be a solely state-activated activity. Responsibilization, according to Garland, is the shedding of state sovereignty, and an attempt at what Foucault called ‘governmentality’, which involves the shaping and enlisting of others to suit and work towards government policies.

The research methodology used by Huey et al incorporates nodal governance theory, this is an elaboration of network theory which looks at how a variety of actors interact to govern the systems they inhabit. It is a way of capturing the complex process of governance by incorporating all of the relevant actors. In this article, the four sets of actors are collectively referred to as nodal clusters: government, law enforcement, private industry and the general public.

The authors collected responses from over 200 volunteers engaged in 'civilian policing'; we were disappointed that there was only one full-length interview conducted with these volunteers, and it is suggested that further interviews would provide greater insight. However, four police officers were interviewed which adds a particularly welcome viewpoint on the issue.

The survey asked volunteers to provide their motive for involvement. The most common motive cited was television or the media, many of which were linked to the US television show 'To Catch a Predator'. This was usually accompanied with a desire to help others and reasons under the general category of 'justice', while a smaller minority reported that either they or someone they knew had previously been a victim of abuse.

The authors cite one response as typical: "Combating online predators takes HOURS of sitting at a computer screen.  There just isn’t enough manpower Colonel.  There are specialized units out there, but it’s still a number’s game.  Hundreds of law enforcement versus thousands of predators". This language seemed indicative of a personal narrative of heroism, a black and white crusade, draped in language of North American law enforcement culture and pop culture. Yet another example likened the internet chat scene to the Wild West.

The monsterisation of sex offenders was also very evident, for example among parents who expressed fears for their children, "I went and looked at my 13 year-old daughter peacefully sleeping and decided I needed to do something to stop these demons". Some websites also choose to herald their role in the apprehension of an offender with announcements such as the following: "We are very happy that these two subhuman individuals…". The demonisation of sex offenders, especially those who offend against children, is a component of the late-modern escalation of concern about the issue, previously referred to. In an article by Lieb et al, about post-conviction controls for sex offenders, they cite research which suggests that in the US at least five murders have occurred as a result of persons convicted of sex offences being found and tracked via the use of an online register.

The DA has previously discussed an article by Huey, which explored the appeal of exhibits of the macabre. In Crime Behind the Glass Huey looked at the popular appeal of cultural fixtures, such as the Jack the Ripper walking tour in London, or the Kriminalmuseum in Vienna which she looked at in some detail, and posed questions about the appeal of such cultural phenomena. The DA suggested that there is an overlap with the current article in relation to the appeal of the horrific. The television show mentioned, 'To Catch a Predator', is one example of popular entertained structured around the premise that the public are fascinated by and want to watch entertainment shows based on crime. The step of going further, and actively participating in the apprehension of a criminal chimes perfectly with the voyeurism that Huey previously identified as comprising an inevitable component of our natures.

The 'civilian policing' volunteers in the article comprise a surprising number of highly-skilled members. The organisations too often have a rigid structure and vetting procedure for members, and the most highly valued roles of decoy and verifier are difficult to attain. Regular contact is mandatory, and some of the groups use Facebook ‘clean-up’ operations as a tool to prove a member's mettle. Estimates suggest that such activity has resulted in the removal of 13,000 profiles of known sex offenders from Facebook. The DA wondered whether this was a self-defeating move with negative impacts on both offender reintegration and rehabilitation, as well as encouraging the creation of profiles which provided false information of identity. We also found ourselves drawn into a discussion of the responsibilities of companies who run social-networking websites.

The inclusion of police interviews really enriched the data. The attitudes of the police were fascinating, ranging from positive and hopeful about engagement in structured partnerships to the departments which refused to work with the groups. Many of these police departments remained fearful for members' safety, and aware of the problematic legal issues, while some felt the work was something they could do themselves. In reference to this last point, the authors mention the well-researched police subculture which can include lack of trust in outsiders. Many of the dubious police departments simply want tips and information and many of the larger 'civilian policing' groups hand over all information without any expectations of involvement, this 'Information First' police is in great contrast to those groups who have co-operated in sting operations targeted at persons met online.

The authors suggest that the greatest resources the members have are time and commitment. They write that 'civilian policing' seems to be aimed at creating ‘digitally defensible spaces’, transforming virtual spaces into spaces that more closely resemble physical spaces in an attempt to increase the accountability of the virtual world, something which requires members to ‘buy in’ as security stakeholders. Nhan and Huey have previously written that “structural and cultural limitations upon traditional policing agencies have resulted in a security deficit in the online world”. They argue that improving this situation does not involve recruiting more specialised police or resources, rather it requires a collaborative effort, due to the distributive nature of the internet. They recommend the greater utilisation of the nodal cluster of the general public, contending that this is a resource which can effectively be used to tackle cyber crime. They also recommend enhanced legal liability training for such groups, as well as the more widespread use of 'Information First' schemes which see all information passed along to law enforcement agencies.

This article provides a fascinating glimpse into the activities of citizens who take it upon themselves to dedicate time to 'civilian policing'. While this was an area of which the DA had known very little before, Huey et al’s article certainly provided for some engaging and intriguing debate. It will be most interesting to watch the progress of research in this area.

This month's blog was written by Colette Barry and Lynsey Black.

The views expressed herein are those of the authors' alone. 

Cyber Vigilantes

The next meeting of the Differential Association will take place on Wednesday 20th February.

We will be discussing the work of online communities in policing internet activity, known as 'civilian policing'. This topic has been dealt with in an article by Laura Huey, Johnny Nhan and Ryan Broll , who present their research as part of a longer-term project which seeks to explore the relationship between civilian policing online and law enforcement agencies. It poses the question of how traditional policing should approach the security issues raised by the internet and argues that as the internet is of such a collaborative nature, it requires a vastly different approach to security.

Related to this, and particularly to Huey et al's close analysis of one online community which attempts to provide information on paedophiles to law enforcement, we will also be looking at the growth of post-conviction restrictions on sex offenders in the US and UK. This has been explored in an article by Lieb at al which will form the basis of our discussion.

When: Wednesday 20th February

Time: 6pm

Where: Mulligan's of Poolbeg Street, back room

CCTV: What is it good for?

It was the book club's last meeting of 2012, the Xmas Xtravaganza, and we decided to do something different and set an open topic: CCTV. Unrestricted by the concerns of a single article, people brought to the table a variety of questions and perspectives on the topic: Has the advent of CCTV heralded Foucault’s predictions of a panopticon society? Is it a legitimate tool of modern security and a by-product of increased desire for order in a consumer society? Does the rise in CCTV increase feelings of safety or personal anxiety? Why has it become so widely accepted?

The topic of CCTV provided scope for an emotive turn in our DA discussion, with some people discovering a previously hidden libertarian! CCTV acts like a probing eye, invading the most mundane of our day-to-day moments, contravening our civil liberties. Conversely, others did not see CCTV as an evolution of something sinister, rather a sidebar in the technological age; a commodity which is perhaps less widespread and effective than realised (see for example the varying levels of competence with which CCTV is actually used).

The primary concern of DA members opposed to security cameras related to privacy.  Everyone is familiar with embarrassing images of anonymous strangers captured on CCTV which wind-up immortalised on a CCTV show-reel amusing audiences on YouTube or late night TV; what if that was to happen to you? Given the prevalence of these images it is no a wonder that feelings of invasion and humiliation are so closely linked to CCTV. However, surely the device to capture people’s embarrassing moments in this manner is less likely to be peering down from a city corner, and much more likely to be resting innocuously in people’s pockets? The proliferation of the smartphone enables users to capture images and videos of anyone around and within an instant upload it up onto the internet. Moreover, people have few qualms uploading photos from their own life, their own embarrassing moments and nights out on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Flickr and any other social website you care to mention. These sites generally don’t just contain images, comments, dates and details of other people, but also personal information like date of birth, relationship status and even current location. Is it duplicitous to be so vehemently opposed to CCTV while giving out more personal data than a security camera could ever capture? Viewed this way, is the sting taken out of the idea of CCTV as personal invasion?

The voluntary nature of people's usage of these sites is of course the counter-argument. Perhaps it is because great swathes of people now have so much control over their image that it feels like an even greater impropriety when it is taken out of their hands.

It was suggested that the idea of privacy of movement and action in a public space is a paradox worthy of Catch-22, however. In the end some people proposed that rather than right to privacy, the use of CCTV images could be restrained by stringent data protection laws, making company’s liable for the uploading of images on the internet. For those of us DA members who viewed the CCTV threat as something shadowy, unproven and verging on the mythic, are we blithely ignoring the realities? In order for CCTV images to remain private, there is a long chain of actors, each of whom must conform to various conditions, complying with guidelines and regulations each in their turn. It is a succession of 'ifs'. The difference, too, between a surveillance network controlled by the state, and those under private control, are pertinent. The reduced options for redress when the operator of the CCTV system is a private company make the use of corporate and private CCTV and the storage of data a pressing issue. The state is taking tentative steps to address the issue of privately-operated CCTV by re-examining the provisions of the 2006 Privacy Bill. In light of the expansion of private surveillance, Minister for Justice Alan Shatter has pledged a review of the Bill in order to safeguard the privacy of individuals (for a discussion of the issue see here).

It may be insightful to tease out some of the popular and opposing feelings about CCTV, those with more apathetic responses as well as the visceral sense of wrong felt by others. Are the more apathetic among us simply more accepting of the new ‘criminologies of everyday life’? Is it naïve to not see this as something more insidious, the responsbilization of civil society; the wider acceptance of the criminal as a rational opportunist? Does this position ignore or underplay the serious risk of destabilising social cohesion and increase state-scepticism in favour of mass individualisation and devolution of crime prevention? Popular ideas of CCTV are often connected to Orwellian prophesies of oppressive state power, yet if the above is the case then the growth of CCTV is actually connected to weakening state control and the awareness that the state on its own is inadequate to tackle the challenge of crime.

Contrastingly, there are those who are affronted by CCTV. Is it possible that some people are not used to the 24-hour glare of surveillance; being made to feel like a potential threat? Perhaps for some the spread of CCTV uncomfortably blurs the line between us and them, the suspect population. Is it that many people in fact don’t want CCTV to fall out of use, but instead have it focused on those who are seen as deviant? Or does the use of CCTV create the deviant population? as such, could the increased use of security surveillance in certain space entail a deepening of the trenches between various social groups? Outside the urban and commercial settings, it would be illuminating to know what the use of CCTV in residential areas represents to the people in these communities. Do they feel their privacy is undermined, or does the use of cameras increase a sense of safety? Interestingly, some commentators have suggested that widespread use of CCTV actually tends to undermine natural surveillance, thereby perhaps scoring an own goal for crime prevention.

No one happened across any research which explored these questions (of course that doesn’t mean such research doesn’t exist!). We felt there was a strong case for greater analytical focus to be spent exploring the increased use of surveillance technology. Perhaps, criminologically, the focus on CCTV is more spread out, it is only one node along a widening continuum of technologies of security. Furthermore, among some scholars the increased use of everyday security is considered one of the indices of changing modes of governance and an acceptance that the state has a limited capacity to address crime. As such, CCTV doesn't get, or maybe need its own solo analytical outing.

Several DA members were impressed by the work of Goold et al, which off-loaded some of the emotional and moral weight of this topic exploring the rise of security devices through a sociology of consumption framework. They describe CCTV as a common-place good, something uncontroversial and ubiquitous. Interviewing buyers of security goods, as well as those who work in the security business, the initial findings suggest that rather than people gaining a sense of order, power and safety, buying security feels less like an act of fulfilment and more like a ‘de facto taxation’; a nuisance and an irritant.

There was some evidence that CCTV does have an impact on criminal activity. For example, the Campbell Collaboration in 2008 reported that CCTV did have a 'modest but significant desirable effect.' However, it was most effective when used in very specific circumstances, namely as a means of reducing car crime in car-parks. The results supported the continued use of CCTV, but in a narrow, more targeted, fashion. Considering that CCTV is the single most heavily funded crime prevention method employed in the United Kingdom (where the study was carried out), such advice would seem to herald a chance for money-saving opportunities. However, there seems to be no sign of innovating the recommended targeted use of the technology.

Yet the promise of CCTV and the political gain attendant on this remains a political given. As such the rise of surveillance seems set to continue for the foreseeable future. Perhaps it is simply the case that CCTV is more for fear of crime than crime itself. Does the presence of CCTV itself act as a cause of anxiety? This was one of the keenest questions posed by the DA and one to which we could find no answer. CCTV acts as an external sign of action, politicians can be seen to be doing something. This was held as one of the most immediate causes of the number of cameras on our streets, this combined with a general lack of understanding on the scope of what such methods can actually achieve.

In practical terms CCTV appears to be quite specious at best. However, we found this topic to have more depth than it appears, and like all good debates we didn’t all quite agree in the end about what the rising use of CCTV means and what its practical and symbolic functions were. To understand its rise and subsequent acceptance it is best understood in wider political or cultural framework.

This month's blog was written by Louise Brangan and Lynsey Black.

The views expressed herein are those of the authors' alone.