Is Nothing Sacred: The Creation of a Criminal Other

How cultural genocide has led to the Australian indigenous population to be viewed as a ‘criminal other’.

Andy Diaper is an independent social researcher. He works with vulnerable and excluded people within the community. His main research interests are groups that are excluded, harmed, and criminalised, including indigenous populations.

On 24th May 2020, two ancient rock shelters in the Juukan Gorge in the Pilbara region of Western Australia were destroyed by blasting. The Anglo-Australian multinational mining corporation Rio Tinto carried out the blasting work.  This was to increase the size of their open-cut iron ore mine named Brockman 4. These shelters were sacred sites to the indigenous population and of great archaeological/spiritual importance. This was the only site in Australia  to show continual human occupation stretching back forty-six thousand years.

Rio Tinto were fully aware of both the historical (they had commissioned an archaeological survey of the site) and the spiritual importance. It was not the only option for the expansion, they had investigated four options: three of which would not have damaged the rock shelters. The reason this option was chosen was it would yield an extra eight million tonnes of high-grade iron ore with a net value of seventy-five million pounds.

The traditional owners of the area the Poutu Kunti Kurrama and Pinikura People (PKKP) only learned of the blasting nine days before the detonation. Lawyers acting on behalf of the PKKP contacted the Federal Indigenous Affairs minister to intervene on heritage grounds. The minister’s office never replied to the lawyers. It should be made clear that Rio Tinto were acting under  section 18 of the Western Australia Aboriginal Heritage Act 1972.

Was this act a singular event? Or a misunderstanding? Rio Tinto has a very poor record in its dealings with the environment and indigenous populations. This event can be viewed as a continuation of the cultural genocide of the indigenous people of Australia.

This cultural genocide is not carried out in an overt way. There is no single perpetrator creating death camps, destroying cultural symbols and sites in the name of some form of purity. This could be called the ‘banality of genocide’. That is there is no single perpetrator, no monstrous ‘other’. This is genocide by a thousand cuts, this is not just a simple metaphor. It was borne out of colonialism with its inherent racism and profiteering which has been reproduced by governments over time. With the ever-increasing move to neoliberal politics this has created the space for other actors to exploit the continuing destruction of the indigenous population to meet their own wants. It can be argued that the neoliberal project is harmful to all vulnerable and disempowered populations. Any concentration on the meritocratic path holds an expectation for the individual to improve their position within the social structure. If however, you are denied the means to achieve this, it can only lead to aspirational failure, despair, and frustration. In the case of the indigenous population this is particularly toxic. With the ongoing destruction of their culture, they become a people with no ‘roots’ or ‘culture’ within what is their own country. In effect a diaspora within their own country.

Genocidal acts against the indigenous population began with colonisation: both physical and cultural. They lost all rights to their land when it was declared ‘Terra Nullis’, as this legitimised the seizure of the land. The indigenous population was decimated by diseases brought in by the colonisers, to which they had no natural immunity. Also, there were deliberate acts of slaughter. These state-sanctioned massacres were not just committed in the early years of colonisation but continued up to the late1920’s.

It was not until 1967 that the Australian government recognised the indigenous population as individualised people. However, even with this recognition it has not eliminated the discrimination, inequality and other harms being perpetrated.

Examples of these harms are 3.1 percent of the Australian population is indigenous, however, 19.3 percent live in poverty compared to 12.4 percent of other Australians. Approximately 20 percent living in non-rural areas live in overcrowded accommodation. The combination of poor housing and poverty impacts on health and mortality outcomes which are also poorer and higher than other Australians. Youth suicide between the ages of five and seventeen is five times higher than non-indigenous people. There is an overrepresentation in the Australian Child Protection system of indigenous children. It is argued that this system supports thousands of jobs from various professions. For example, lawyers, social workers, medical professionals and psychologists, these groups benefit financially from ‘indigenous disadvantage’ A causal reason for this overrepresentation is poverty and systemic racism. It has been likened to a second ‘stolen generation’.

 The indigenous population is also heavily overrepresented in the criminal justice system. Indigenous people are 12.5 times more likely to be in prison as opposed to non-indigenous people. Indigenous females are 21.2 times more likely to be in prison than non-indigenous women. This imprisonment rate is also higher than the rate for non-indigenous men. This overrepresentation has been recognised as symptomatic of the historical and current harms to this population. This also applies to the higher death rate in custody.

The harms perpetrated on the indigenous population, colonisation, post-colonial actions, institutional racism, and an increasing turn to neoliberal politics, is a toxic mix. By its nature neoliberal politics opens the ‘space’ for the private sector to run roughshod over the weak and vulnerable. The belief that it is the responsibility of individuals – not the state – to improve lives, becomes a potential breeding ground for the perpetuation and increase of racism in the wider public. The overrepresentation of the indigenous population in the justice and ‘social care’ system and entrenched racism has led to a misrecognition. The indigenous people are viewed as the architects of their own plight. They are viewed as a criminal ‘other’ and not worthy of help and protection.

On January 26th, each year, the Australian nation celebrate ‘Australia Day’. This marks the raising of the union flag in 1788, some two hundred and thirty-three years ago, beginning the colonisation of Australia. For the indigenous population it is not a day of celebration but a day of mourning. A visceral reminder of the divisiveness, harms and abuses perpetrated upon them historically and continuing  in the present. These harms will continue until those in positions of power move away from tokenism and introduce and strengthen equal and human rights and the protection of indigenous lands.

The article will conclude back in the rock shelters at Juukan gorge, more than seven thousand archaeological artifacts were discovered. One of these was a fragment  of a belt made from plaited human hair. After scientific analysis it was found to be four thousand years old. The DNA results revealed that the owner of the hair was a direct descendant of the PKKP indigenous people still inhabiting this region today.

Contact

Andy Diaper, Independent Researcher.

Email: andy.diaper@btinternet.com

Twitter: @andy_diaper  

Author image courtesy of Melissa Diaper.

Cave art image copyright free.

Seven New Conversations in Historical Criminology

Report on discussions at BSC Historical Criminology Network Workshop 2020.

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David Churchill is Associate Professor in Criminal Justice in the Centre for Criminal Justice Studies, School of Law, University of Leeds, and Chair of the BSC Historical Criminology Network. His research focuses on policing, security and crime control in modern Britain

 

Conferences are great – a chance to catch up with old friends, pick up fresh ideas and hatch plans for new ventures. So many have been lost to the lockdown this summer, and they are much missed. But there’s also a problem with conferences. After two or three days of mind-opening discussion, everyone goes home. Greeted by a wall of emails and all the distractions of the day-to-day, the spark of creative energy is so easily lost.

So this year, members of the BSC Historical Criminology Network did something different. The plan was to bring together scholars who don’t normally work together to talk about topics of common interest. We hoped to meet in person, but the pandemic intervened. So we met online instead. This brought challenges – frail internet connections and so on – but it also opened up the conversation to a much wider, more international group than would have been possible otherwise.

And so seven groups of brilliant scholars met to discuss new directions and common concerns in historical criminology. It was a wonderful day, illustrated in real time to give a rich visual record of the event. In this post, the convenors of each group offer a summary of what was said. But these conversations are not finished – several groups are looking forward to future meetings and possible collaborations. So if something catches your eye, do get in touch via contact details below.

  1. Mobile MethodsMobile Methods and Doing Historical Criminology (Esmorie Miller, Alexa Neale & Lizzie Seal – e.c.seal@sussex.ac.uk): Our group discussed experiences of, and possibilities for, using mobile methods in historical criminology. We understood mobile methods to include walking as a research method, but also other mobilities, such as road trips and boat trips. We discussed how mobile methods might unlock understandings of space and sensory experience in ways that other methods cannot and how this is particularly relevant for historical criminologists, who usually conduct research from documents. We explored how mobilities can illuminate what we have read in archival documents, offering insights into locations and landscapes, especially in relation to places in which events happened, areas where particular individuals lived, or journeys they undertook. We talked about how being out and about can lead to chance meetings which might produce new ideas, or garner new information. And we considered access to spaces – something which varies by space and by person.

Another key theme from the discussion was the significance of layering. Landscapes, buildings, areas have developed over time and bear multiple histories. They have different meanings to different social groups and are sites of contested memory. We spoke about the salience of memorialisation at the moment in terms of understandings of, and contests about, colonial history and racial justice. Finally, we discussed technologies and the possibilities offered by online tools such as StoryMap JS that enable highlighting location in relation to a series of events. We talked about how, in an era of restricted mobility, historical criminologists might be able to share resources with each other online to enhance understandings of space.

  1. CorruptionPolice Corruption (Paul Bleakley – p.bleakley@mdx.ac.uk): This workshop was a great opportunity for academics working on researching historical incidences of law enforcement misconduct to liaise with police practitioners, and to discuss the ways that insight into the past can assist in shaping contemporary anticorruption policies. What emerged was the general recognition that studies of police corruption face a serious definitional problem, where our understandings of what constitutes corrupt practice differing greatly based on location and (crucially) the sociocultural context of the period in which it was practiced. It was agreed that historical criminology provides anticorruption researchers with a “safe space” to discuss very pertinent issues of deviant organisational cultures and managerial practices, allowing for critical analysis without presenting a professional or legal threat to active duty police. Because of this, studies of the intra-organisational cultural factors that drive police corruption can be examined in a more abstract way through the lens of the past. The group determined that one of the greatest priorities of historical police corruption research should be to draw on the myriad of examples that the past offers us to develop a clearer typology of misconduct – not just what acts are considered “corrupt”, but how a culture of misconduct becomes entrenched in law enforcement agencies.
  2. AHC‘Advancing ‘Historical Criminology’: Celebrating interdisciplinarity and reflecting on history as lingua franca (Sarah Wilson – s.wilson@york.ac.uk): This was truly a global and intellectually diverse group (from History and Criminology to Political Science and Law), including those with practitioner backgrounds in museum work and policing. The session was oriented around the idea of promoting historical criminology through History as ‘lingua franca’. This stresses: (i) the need for Criminology as a whole to ‘become historicised’ (rather than establishing a niche sub-field); that (ii) Criminology is in need of direction in how to move toward historicisation; and that (iii) examining how other humanities and social science disciplines are reflecting on their own relationship with history would be beneficial for Criminology. Linking these points is the idea that History can help break down disciplinary barriers; that through historicisation scholars can come together and ‘find’ shared interests which have been obscured by discipline-specific practices and language. Asked whether Historical Criminology was a movement in need of direction, participants discussed its current intellectual standing and directions. This led to a fantastic conversation on the importance of Historical Criminology moving away from being a minor pursuit (one occurring in ‘pockets’) towards a position of normalisation within the discipline of Criminology. Very interesting reflections were offered on the importance of history in ‘grounding’ social science research, and giving meaning, context and sense and even rigour to social science’s interest in data analysis. Perhaps the most insightful discussions centred on History’s value as the ‘interdisciplinary discipline’, and how it is uniquely placed to speak across so many disciplines, on account of its interest in continuums rather than the ‘binaries’ which often underpin the theories and rationales of social science.
  3. AtoneThe Not Yet Dead God of Atonement (Aaron Pycroft – aaron.pycroft@port.ac.uk): We explored the historical relationship between theology and the practices of justice and the ways in which Judaeo-Christian atonement theory is used in contemporary penal settings to support harsh penal measures. The basic premise of this approach is that every crime (sin) must be punished to satisfy the metaphysical requirements of both a retributive god and the need for social order. The discussion was based around Pycroft (in press) and whether modern anthropological, theological and philosophical resources in “the death of the death of god discourse” should have any traction in criminology. We discussed the limits of practical reason (following Kant) and the implications of the de Sade through to Foucault genealogy in critical criminology and whether these philosophies do no more than lock in cruelty and violence. This led to an examination of personal complicity in structural violence and the role that Judaeo-Christianity plays in revealing that violence to others, without resorting to simplistic deus ex machina arguments. There was an acknowledgement of the challenge of teaching these issues in standard criminological curricula, but that change agency, personalism and religious literacy were promising topics for further exploration. [Pycroft, A (in press) ‘Surveillance, Substance Misuse and the Drug Use Industry’ in The Pre-Crime Society: Crime, Culture and Control in the Ultramodern Age. Arrigo, B. & Sellers, B. (eds.). Bristol: Bristol University Press.]
  4. DTCrime-Related Dark Tourism: An Exploration (Hannah Thurston – H.Thurston@brighton.ac.uk): First, we shared concerns about crime-related tourism. How reality and fiction become blurred, how stories are marginalised or sensationalized. We discussed problematic tropes and the consequences of distortion. We were though, mindful of the neo-liberal context: competing demands force sites to capitalize, to romanticise, to compromise. Next, we also chatted about the positive potential of crime-related tourism. We talked about how sites can disrupt dominant memories, problematising taken-for-granted transmissions of the past. Rather than sensationalise or romanticise, they work toward peace and social justice. We discussed activists (re)claiming sites and (re)interpreting stories, which led us to reflect upon our own place in the story-world. It transpired that many of us felt part of our (crime) stories. Some of us had worked in/consulted for museums. Others collaborated with artists/activists at heritage sites. Others had done TV interviews, and some had even corresponded with ancestors of the deceased. It became clear we had all – in one way or another – interrogated not only our own power as a storyteller, but also our role as a character within the story we were telling. And then we decided that transmission of memory is all about power, and collaborations present powerful opportunities to reach different audiences (big and small).  By understanding the needs of other storytellers – be they activists, curators, or documentary makers – we have the potential to influence and shape these crime-related sites/memories. Clearly these types of collaborations include compromise and it is unlikely we will be given the freedom to tell the story we would want to tell … The question is: should that stop us from trying?
  5. Path DependencePath Dependency, Crime and Social Responses to Crime (Thomas Guiney & Henry Yeomans – H.P.Yeomans@leeds.ac.uk): This session explored the emerging literature on ‘path dependency’ and how these analytical tools might be used to making sense of the historical development of crime and criminal justice. In our introductory talk we offered a general introduction to path dependency. Events in one historical context can constrain actions at later points in time by, for example, creating precedents, vested interests, embedded working practices or entrenched popular opinions. Deviating from the existing path can thus become much more challenging and costly than simply continuing with things as they are. Building on these observations, Dr Ashley Rubin from the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa discussed the promise and pitfalls of path dependency and how she has used these techniques in her own research to explain the uneven development of the early American state penitentiaries. In the subsequent discussion a number of themes emerged for further discussion:
  • The need to reconcile path dependency with a more dynamic view of policy change.
  • Further work on where change comes from, if not from exogenous shocks.
  • How change is “layered” over an extended period of time, and how this connects with recent theorising on time and temporality.
  • Whether path dependency needs to be anchored to institutional analysis or whether these techniques be used with biographical or life course studies.
  1. ProtectProtection (Francis Dodsworth – f.dodsworth@kingston.ac.uk): Our discussion explored how historical criminologists might contribute both to existing theories of protection and to the development of original empirical and theoretical enquiry. We discussed the centrality of ‘protection’ to contemporary criminal justice, connections with David Garland’s idea of the ‘culture of control’ and the need for fuller exploration of the genealogy of protection.

We were particularly interested in the power dynamics of protection, of who is being protected from whom – the police from the public, the public from the police, or people from themselves – so pertinent in the context of the Black Lives Matter protests and a media culture invested in sensational representation of threat. We discussed histories of protest, riot and moral panic, but also child removal and reformatories, disease regulations and prevention (extending into ‘public health’ models of violence reduction) and the configuration of ‘vulnerability’. Important issues raised included the policing of domestic abuse and the over-policing and under-protecting of minority and marginalised communities. We noted the longstanding discussion in the United States about ‘protection’ from below and its relation to accountability, and the need for historical perspectives on equivalent UK discourses. We also discussed a critical approach to the realities of vulnerability, recognising differential levels of autonomy and the importance of perceptions of vulnerability to violent response. Moving forward, there was interest in exploring the role that criminological study plays in terms of gender, class and minority recruitment into the criminal justice system and associated roles, and in how historical enquiry might help us think through what we want ‘protection’ to look like.

As mentioned earlier, these conversations are not finished.  Future meetings and future collaborations are full of possibilities. If you want to be a part of this, do get in touch via contact details above.

 

Images courtesy of Laura Evans of Nifty Fox Creative

Women, History, Invisibility and Prisons

Historical records evidence that the development of female prisons is closely related to the development of male prisons; however, denying a history of female prisoners in its own right fosters a stagnation in the discipline.

S Menis

Women, History, Invisibility and Prisons: A contribution to the Women’s History Month

Susanna Menis is a Lecturer in Law at Birkbeck London University, School of Law. Her recent book provides a revisionist prison history which brings to the forefront the relationship between gender and policy. It examines women’s prisons in England since the late 18th century to the beginning of the 20th century.

Historical criminology research on prisons in England comes across as genderless. Yet, these histories reflect the story of male prisons (Naffine, 1997) – not least because, there have been many historical records to draw upon. When we say the ‘invisibility’ of female prisoners, it is meant to suggest that the experiences and needs of women have been ignored. Many have argued that prisons are ‘a man’s world; made for men, by men’, and as a consequence, women have been subjected to regimes designed to deal with the needs faced by the larger prison population, that of men (Heidensohn and Silvestri, 2012; Priestley, 1999; Heidensohn, 1985). When attempts are made to examine the history of female prisons, because, as put by Zedner (1994:100) ‘to suggest that they [women prisoners] were simply “not foreseen” is patently implausible’ – requests are made for comparative analysis (Garland, 1993; Wiener, 1993). It is this sort of intellectual chastisement that has fostered the reproduction of theoretical frameworks shaped upon ‘a masculinist vision of the past’ (Spongberg, 2002:3).

The historiography of women in prisons in England is small (e.g. Smith, 1962; Heidensohn, 1985; Dobash et al., 1986). These (hi)stories however, have used at face value traditional and/or revisionist prison historiography to contextualise the history of female prisons: hence, failing to reclaim women’s subjectivity to a great extent (with the exception of Zedner, 1994). Instead, historical primary sources evidence that despite their small numbers in comparison to men, penal policy was as concerned, proportionally, with female prisoners as it was with the male prisoner (Menis, 2020).

The discourse of the invisibility of female prisoners has lots to do with the taking at face value, the (hi)stories told about the separate and the silent systems. These were prison regimes imported from America in the 1840s because they were financially convenient, requiring minimal contact with the prisoner. They were adopted inconsistently and interchangeably, initially, in the three national penitentiaries: Pentonville, Millbank and Brixton (Menis, 2020). We know lots about these regimes, because volumes have been written on them. However, what is missing from such narratives is that the few women sentenced to the national penitentiaries were subjected to a specific female-version of the regime; also, the majority of women, because of the nature of their offence, were sent to local prisons, where the two American prison regimes were applied unsystematically.

Social reformers such as Mary Carpenter, clearly acknowledged the importance of having in female prisons a different penal regime than in male prisons because ‘there is a very great difference between the inmates’ (1864: 207). Partly, this was informed by the understanding that imprisonment for women was recognised as a hindrance to social integration and the regaining of respectability for work and marriage purposes. Indeed, female convicts were transferred, towards the end of their sentences, to Fulham Refuge. This was aimed at ‘erasing the considerable stigma of being recognised as a female ex-convict’ (Zedner, 1991:171). As explained by Fulham Refuge’s governor, they hoped that people who might be intimidated by the idea of employing female ex-prisoners could ‘be induced to take them from a benevolent institution such as a refuge’ (Revd J.H. Moran (1854), quoted in Zedner, 1991:182). Also Du Cane (1885:170) considered that ‘these “refuges” were not prisons either in appearance or in discipline—they were homes and intended to afford the advantages of a treatment approaching in its characteristics to that of home influence’. However, from 1888 Fulham was reinstated as a ‘prison’, and for the next eight years female convicts were accommodated only in Woking prison; from 1896 it was only Aylesbury prison housing the small numbers of female convicts: on an average day in 1897, 202 women were recorded as present, having the yearly average reception standing at less than 50 (Report of the Commissioners of Prisons and Directors of Convict Prisons for the year 1896-1897, 1897:10, 43).

Most women, however, were sent to the 65 local prisons around the country. The second Prison Commission report for 1879 and Susan Fletcher’s memoir (1884) provide a valuable insight into the regime applied in these local prisons. By the end of 31 March 1879, only 63 prisons also housed women, and only Westminster gaol was a female-only prison. These prisons could have had a daily average population of as few as one woman (e.g. Southwell) and as many as 500 women at one time (e.g. Westminster and Liverpool). The Report tells us that only Lancaster goal employed women in gum breaking and cotton picking; otherwise, policy informed by (as we identify it now) stereotypical understanding of femininity and womanhood, meant that female prisoners were subject predominantly to employment in housekeeping. Susan confirms that also later in the century, the ‘hard labour’ she was sentenced to was ‘rather a myth’; as far as she was concerned, she ‘did a little knitting’ because she liked it, ‘but not an hour’s hard labour during the twelve months’ (1884:337).

Historical records evidence that the development of female prisons is closely related to the development of male prisons (Menis, 2020); however, denying a history of female prisoners in its own right fosters a stagnation in the discipline. The uncritical assertion of women’s ‘invisibility’ has led researchers to neglect the contribution of policy specifically concerning the female prison population in the shaping of mainstream prison policy. However, let us not confuse ‘bad’ with ‘different’; prison regimes have left much to be desired for, whether you were (are) a man or a woman. When first arriving to Westminster gaol, Susan Fletcher was faced with the ‘filthy horrors of the reception’. She describes in her memoir how ‘all wash from one tank, and wipe on one towel, and the poor women, wild with grief, or crazy with delirium-tremens, are screaming in the reception-cells’. Despite still being served bacon and beans during her stay (in 1879 the Prison Commission requested for these items to be removed), Susan thought that the food was not nutritious; her ring, which ‘fitted so tightly’ when she had just arrived to prison ‘came off very easily’ after only a week in custody. While waiting to progress to a position of trust (e.g. work in the kitchen and laundry), Susan had to spend 23 hours of the day in her cell. In that regard, she said (1884:320-1, 329):

A saint might grow more saintly by such a discipline, perhaps; but even a saint’s body could hardly get more healthy. Common men and women, social beings, with all their best instincts unsatisfied and blighted, must be made worse in every way by such unnatural conditions.

Women’s History Month raises awareness by documenting, acknowledging and celebrating women’s lives; it is about reclaiming historical ownership for experiences which have been kept muted. To find out more including relevant events:

Women Making Waves https://www.rmg.co.uk/see-do/women

Alternative arts http://www.alternativearts.co.uk/womens-history-month/4581216304

Women’s History Network https://womenshistorynetwork.org/

 

References

Carpenter M (1864) Our convicts. London: Longman, Vol 2.

Dobash RP, Dobash ER and Gutteridge S (1986) The Imprisonment of Women. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

Du Cane E (1885) The Punishment and Prevention of Crime. London: Macmillan and Co.

Fletcher SW (1884) Twelve months in an English prison. Boston: Lee and Shepard.

Heidensohn F (1985), Women and Crime. London: Macmillan.

Heidensohn F and Silvestri (2012) Gender and Crime. In Maguire M, Morgan R, and Reiner R (ed.) The Oxford handbook of criminology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 5th edn, pp.336-361.

Menis S (2020) A History of Women’s Prisons in England: The Myth of Prisoners Reformation. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.

Naffine N (1997) Feminism and Criminology. Cambridge: Polity Press.

Rafter NH (1983) Prisons for Women, 1790-1980. Crime and Justice 5: 129-181.

Priestley P (1999), Victorian prison lives. London: Pimlico.

Smith A (1962) Women in Prison. London: Stevens & Sons.

Spongberg M (2002) Writing Women History since the Renaissance. Palgrave Macmillan.

Zedner L (1994) Women crime and custody in Victorian England. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Second Report of The Commissioners of Prisons (1879). London: HMSO.

Report of the Commissioners of Prisons and Directors of Convict Prisons for the year 1896-1897 (1897). London: HMSO.

 

Contact

Susanna Menis, School of Law, Birkbeck, University of London

Email: s.menis@bbk.ac.uk

 

Images: courtesy of the author and permission given by artist, for Woman in a cell © Noriko Hisazumi 2019