The Origins of Criminological Theory

Omi Hodwitz, Omi Hodwitz

• Editorial: Routledge
• Año: 2022
• ISBN:
  9781000546521
• Edición: 1
• Categoría: Social Sciences
• Categoría: Criminology

The Origins of Criminological Theory offers a new sort of theory textbook, both in content and concept. Whereas other texts offer a mainly twentieth century account of criminological theory, this book looks further back, tracing the development of our understanding of crime and deviance throughout the ages, from Ancient Greece right through to the dawn of the rehabilitation ideal. The central objective of this book is to inform readers of the significant role the past has played in our contemporary theories of crime. Core content includes:

• Justice in Ancient Greece
• The Dark Ages and innocence
• The Age of Enlightenment and human nature
• The Classical School and Utilitarianism
• The medicalization of crime
• Biological positivism
• The birth of rehabilitation

In addition to providing a unique approach, the book also has unique authorship. Each chapter is written by an incarcerated author housed at a men's medium and maximum-security prison in the US. The writers are supported by one or more co-authors: university students who carry out the research for each chapter. This book therefore offers a new way of thinking about theory and makes a significant contribution to convict criminology. It will be of interest to those taking courses in criminological theory, and to programmes such as Inside Out in the US, and the Prison-University Partnerships Network in the UK.

Chapter 1

Introduction

Omi Hodwitz

DOI: 10.4324/9781003197980-1

Laying the foundation

What is criminology, when did it begin, and how did it evolve over time? These three questions provide the framework for this book, a space dedicated to verbal query, quandary, and explanation. However, even though these questions give guidance to the authors of each chapter, at no point in the following pages will you find definitive answers. Our goal is to muddy the criminological waters rather than to clear them, to offer perspectives and thoughts that fall outside of the disciplinary box, and to incite curiosity and criticism. We seek not to conclude but to instigate, with the hope that the curious reader will engage not only with the content captured in these pages, but the content not covered, hinted at in footnotes or side references, hampered by word counts and linear chronologies. We invite you, the reader, to enjoy the diverse, challenging, and oftentimes dark nature of the criminological discipline, while also considering the many details not covered in this book that are also missing from contemporary criminological narratives. Our goal is to illuminate but, through illumination, recognize that we are also obfuscating. It is up to you, curious reader, to find value in this process.

Although the answers to the royal trifecta of questions guiding this book are absent in the following pages, we will attempt to provide some baseline responses in this introduction, particularly for those readers who do not have a criminological background. Let us start with the first question: what is criminology? Before reading any further, consider your own response. For any number of reasons, you have now begun reading this book, perhaps as a required text for a class, or someone has pushed you to read it, or your curiosity has gotten the better of you. Or like many of the books that have entered my life, maybe this copy came to you, abandoned and tattered, in some public space cast aside by a previous owner. Whatever the means of delivery, you are now committed to learning about the origins of criminological theory. But what is criminology? If you are a member of the general public, you may be at a loss to answer this question accurately. Perhaps, if you are a consumer of prime-time television, you may suggest that it has something to do with using the criminal justice system to stop crime. How would a hypothetical student of the discipline respond? Ideally, they would have a more formal understanding of the term, settling on the assumption that criminology is, quite simply, the study of criminal and deviant behavior.¹

Neither answer would be incorrect, although both would be incomplete. Yes, criminology is the study of crime and deviance, and it does have something to do with the criminal justice system, but it is a bit more complicated than meets the eye. Criminology answers the following question: what causes crime and how should we respond to it? The question can be divided into two parts, causes and consequences, and in a similar manner, so too can the criminological discipline. Criminal justice scholars focus on the second part of the question, specifically consequences of crime, including policing, courts, and corrections. They are interested in how to best control crime through policy and practice, while also navigating the difficulties of pressing and sensitive social dynamics, such as gender, class, and racial identities. Criminologists, on the other hand, tend to focus on the front half of the crime equation, the causes of crime. Criminologists seek to answer the “why” of the matter: why do people deviate or conform? Recognizing that human behavior is elusive and multi-faceted, most criminologists have grown content with the practice of theorizing, presenting evidence-based propositions of deviance and conformity, being careful not to claim ultimate truths but never shying from defending their theoretical perspective as the best of a questionable lot. Some propose that crime is the result of observation and learning, strain and pressure, or socialization, while others suggest that conformity is the product of good parenting or a stable society. Still others suggest that crime is a social or political concept manipulated by those in positions of power to maintain the status quo, creating a vicious scenario with no immediate escape hatch. While criminal justice scholars and criminologists occupy different niches of the discipline and our emphasis in this book is more focused on the criminological side of the two-sided coin, causes and consequences are grudging bedfellows, each shaping the other in intimately uncomfortable ways and, as such, we emphasize the interplay between the two in our exploration of the origins of criminological theory.

The next question is a temporal one: when did criminology begin? Perhaps this would appear to be the easiest question to answer, resolved by the simple identification of a date or, at a pinch, a decade or even a century. However, the fact of the matter is that there is no answer. Suppose we return to our hypothetical student. When asked about the origin, they would likely point to the 1800s and the Age of Enlightenment as the start of criminological thought and analysis. If they recall the details of their introductory criminology class, they may narrow down their response further, identifying the Classical School and perhaps even going so far as to name Cesare Beccaria and Jeremy Bentham as the benchmarks of the beginning. If they pursued additional theory classes in their academic career, this fictional student may elaborate even further, offering a brief synopsis of the roots of deterrence and rational choice theories. They may note that Beccaria, through his book On Crimes and Punishments, kickstarted the study of penology, while Bentham introduced hedonistic calculation.² That would, however, likely be the end of their monologue on the beginning of criminology and, if asked what came before that, they may appear confused or stumped, perhaps even a little taken aback.

Once again, the fictional student is not incorrect in their response. The discipline formalized in the 1800s with Beccaria and Bentham, the fathers of the Classical School of Criminology. Beccaria and Bentham’s collective suggestions that humankind was rational, hedonistic, and influenced by the costs and benefits of crime and punishment, laid the groundwork for the fledgling discipline. However, the identification of the Classical School as the origin of criminology is premised on the assumption that scholars and practitioners did not consider the causes and consequences of crime before the Age of Enlightenment, that deviance did not attract the attention of individuals in an intellectual or formal capacity in previous eras. Yet it did. If deviance had not been an area of study before the 1800s, we may not have experienced such events as Socrates’ death by suicide, the Inquisition, and the Salem Witch Trials. Each of these incidents, and so many more since the inception of humankind, occurred because of a formal interest in identifying, understanding, and controlling deviant and criminal behavior.

Herein lies one of the key contributions of this book: addressing the theories and practices that preceded the Classical School. Our understanding of crime and deviance, in other words, will not begin with the Classical School but, instead, with Ancient Greece and Ancient Rome. We will avoid the temptation to then catapult into the Age of Enlightenment, but instead pay credence to the fact that the discipline meandered its way through the tumultuous Dark Ages, taking a brief respite during the Renaissance, before getting its feet dirty during the Age of Reason. We will not ignore the formal buttoned-up intrusion of the Scientific Revolution or the silent sisters’ presence of Rehabilitation and Restoration. In other words, if we were to focus on the Classical School as a starting point, we would overlook millennia of criminological history, an erroneous oversight that we do not intend to commit here.

That brings us to the third question: how did criminology evolve over time? Our fictional student respondent would be in a difficult spot to address this question, assuming their starting point is the Classical School. However, if their education has done them a service, they will suggest that, following the Age of Enlightenment, criminology grew considerably, fueled by ideas, theories, and philosophies borrowed from other disciplines. Perhaps they would phrase it differently, but they will likely note that psychology, economics, sociology, and political science, to name but a few, made an indelible mark on the burgeoning discipline, as it worked its way in fits and starts through different generational shifts in knowledge, sometimes embracing environmental considerations, other times social factors, and still other times critical self-awareness of disciplinary failures. They will probably conclude that any attempts to adequately recap criminology in a neat package is, at best, a challenge, a tribute to an eclectic and oftentimes chaotic disciplinary evolution.

In this response, the student has redeemed themselves. Criminology is, to put it bluntly, a bit of a mess. Regardless of whether we begin with the policy implications of Hammurabi code of laws from Ancient Babylon, the application of Twelve Tables from Ancient Rome, or the spiritual connotations of the Trials by Ordeal during the Middle Ages, criminology has acted like a rodent on psychedelics, bouncing from corner to corner, forgetting the past, fixating on the present, or desperately seeking grounding in the more socially attractive disciplines. Attempting to adequately describe the behavior of the discipline in its entirety is arguably a fool’s errand and not one that we are bold enough to attempt here; it is simply too multi-faceted and nuanced to do it justice.

Although we have neither the space nor the capacity to address the third and final question in its entirety, we will provide some direction on the topic of disciplinary change over time. Specifically, the evolution (or, at times, devolution) of criminology is marked by underlying shifts in fundamental philosophical and spiritual beliefs, particularly around issues of human nature, social order, and free will. Identifying each of these concepts and the role that they played in the sporadic and inconsistent criminological identity is a challenge we embrace whole-heartedly. Therefore, in addition to refocusing the criminological lens to times predating the Classical School, we also eagerly venture into relatively undiscovered territory by expounding upon the history of human assumptions in shaping criminological theories of deviance and criminal justice responses to crime.

Assumptions defining our understanding of deviance and crime

Throughout the pages of this book, you will encounter several key assumptions that have shaped our interpretations of conformity and deviance over time. Although not a complete nor exhaustive list, we will focus on three main assumptions for the purposes of simplicity and concision: perceptions of human nature, assumptions of social order, and acknowledgement or refutation of free will. As the pendulum swings between the outer limits of each assumption, it can have significant impacts on who has the power to define, determine, and punish deviance. These assumptions also shape our understanding of guilt or innocence and our philosophies of punishment.

Let us begin with assumptions of human nature, perhaps one of the most subtle yet deeply ingrained set of beliefs that underlie not only the criminal justice system, but all other political and social institutions as well. On a micro-level, opinions about human nature may differ between individuals but, on a macro-level, different generations and societies have adopted one perspective over the other, allowing the flavor of the day to influence all manner of life. For ease of instruction, let us start with a micro-level introduction or example. When you, dear reader, meet an individual for the first time, do you tend to assume the worst of them, expect the best from them, or withhold any assumptions until you get to know them? Although this is an overly simplified way to discuss human nature, it does provide a palatable introduction by illustrating the three main assumptions that guide our understanding of humanity. Each of us has embraced one of three beliefs: 1) humankind is inherently hedonistic or self-serving, 2) humankind is inherently altruistic or concerned for the welfare of others, or 3) humankind is undetermined at birth (tabula rasa or blank slate) and individuals will eventually become, through a process of socialization, either hedonistic or altruistic.

Now transfer those assumptions to the macro-level and consider the consequences. If a society adopts an inherently hedonistic assumption of human nature, then formal institutions, including the criminal justice system, should be used to keep those hedonistic impulses in check. Self-serving behaviors are the norm and, thus, potential offenders require control and deterrence to keep them from engaging in deviance that serves their interests but not the interests of the public. If, however, a society adopts an altruistic orientation, conformity is considered the norm and the criminal justice system is a means of restoring human potential more than a means of deterrence or punishment. Lastly, if a society embraces a blank slate perspective, the emphasis is on conditioning and modeling of good behavior. The purpose here is to push the person towards an altruistic life path rather than a hedonist one. Therefore, our assumptions of human nature influence not only our own interactions with people on a personal level, but also institutional structure and strategy.

In addition to human nature, we also make assumptions about social order and how it is maintained. These can be conveniently grouped into the consensus and conflict orientations. Let us return to a micro-level example. Do you believe that the laws and practices of a society reflect the needs and desires of the public? In other words, do our institutions represent our collective priorities? If so, this would place you squarely in the consensus camp. However, perhaps you lean more towards the idea that the legal and political systems are crafted with the interests of a select few in mind, those in positions of power who aim to maintain the status quo so as to remain on top. In this scenario, these systems may become a controlling tool designed to silence those that would challenge the powerful elite. Does this strike a chord in you? If so, you hold the conflict orientation.

Both perspectives on social order have taken priority in western societies at different times, resulting in shifts in the purpose and goals of formal entities such as the criminal justice system. If, for example, a society has adopted the consensus perspective, the overriding expectation is the social contract: that everyone must give up limited rights and freedoms in order to create social order, ensuring safety and security for all. The criminal justice system, in a consensus society, may provide justifiable limitations on its clients, but these are acceptable as they reflect the greater good. In a conflict society, however, the criminal justice system is a tool of coercion, flawed in its inception and its execution. Threats to the privileged class are criminalized, further dividing a discordant society.

In practice, assumptions of social order can produce very different understandings and responses to crime. Consensus suggests that we should accept that some acts are inherently deviant and, although flawed, the criminal justice system is necessary and viable response to those deviant acts. The trick to a healthy society is finding the right balance between ceded rights and restrictions on liberties. If the balance shifts too much towards restriction, then a society will suffer a disproportionate loss of freedom for little return. If the balance shifts towards too much towards protecting liberties, the community will sacrifice safety and security instead. The conflict perspective, on the other hand, would question the meaning of deviance, suggesting that criminalized acts may not be inherently harmful on their own. If we want to address crime, we need to critically assess which acts are criminalized and who benefits from such a classification system. Addressing crime would also include reshaping the criminal justice system to respond to harm appropriately and effectively, rather than viewing it as a hammer to be used to pummel society into shape as desired by those in positions of power.

A third set of assumptions relates to our understanding of the role of free will versus determinism. Take a moment to reflect on your own assumptions regarding this question. Do you believe that we are completely and fully the masters of our own domain, responsible for all our decisions and actions? Or are we partially influenced by factors outside of our control, perhaps related to our economic standing, the color of our skin, or the gender we were assigned at birth? Perhaps you adopt a more definitive perspective, embracing the idea that specific factors (e.g., biological or spiritual) eliminate our autonomy and ability to choose our own course of action. Although these beliefs lie on a continuous spectrum, defying neatly defined categories, they are often presented as a set of three assumptions, moving from an assumption of free will (we are the masters of our own domain), to soft determinism (some factors outside of our control influence our decisions and behaviors), to end finally with hard determinism (our behaviors are dictated by outside forces).

Throughout time, assumptions of free will versus determinism have dramatically shaped our understanding of, and responses to, crime. If an individual has unencumbered free will, society should focus on influencing the individual, using the criminal justice system as a tool of deterrence and punishment. If, however, we live in an era of soft determinism, crime is a matter of both individual and social change and focusing on one to the exclusion of the other will serve little purpose. Lastly, hard determinism suggests that attempting to deter the offender or fix larger societal issues is a lost cause. If a force beyond the offender’s control is playing puppet master, there is little that can be done other than eradicating the force or assuming the offender is irredeemable.

As these assumptions shift and change, so too does the nature of criminology and criminal justice. Our understanding of human nature, for example, plays a substantial role in how we respond to crime, while perceptions of social order are central in determining who defines crime and how they define it, and free will versus determinism leaves a deep impression on how we assign guilt and accountability. Each assumption shapes the criminological discipline and any foray into history would benefit from explicit acknowledgement of this relationship. Therefore, although it would be a near-impossible feat to give a complete rendition of the origins of criminological thought throughout the last few millennia, we can track the shifts in these assumptions over time, using them as a proxy or indicator of social and political change. In the remaining pages of this book, we will introduce you to rise and fall of different approaches to crime, while also acknowledging the presence of the assumptive pendulum of human nature, social order, and free will. This is a daunting task and there is a limit to what we can cover in one volume, but we accept the challenge and invite you, astute reader, to fill in whatever gaps remaining that catch your intrigue and interest.

An overview of the assumptive pendulum over time

We have one outstanding piece of business that may reduce the fray-like nature of criminological history discussed throughout this book. We are referring to a roadmap of said history: a snapshot image that denotes the twists and turns of the sometimes less than linear timeline. In recognition of the often-times mosaic-like development of the discipline, we will conclude this introduction with an overview of the content covered in each chapter, noting the presence and significance of relevant assumptions when applicable, with the hope that this final section will allow you to adopt a birds-eye view of how the different eras of criminological thought are connected over time.

To aid in the development of a chronological blu...