‘Not in my backyard’: Brexit and the myths of transnational organised crime

Brexit will make for a weaker and more isolated Britain. That translates in more opportunities for profits and investments for transnational criminal networks – and will be a nightmare for national law enforcement agencies.


A Sergi

Anna Sergi is Lecturer in Criminology and Deputy Director of the Centre for Criminology at the University of Essex, UK. She is an International Visiting Fellow at the University of Melbourne, Australia and Chair of the Early Career Researchers Network of the British Society of Criminology.


Brexit is fast approaching and the language of security – with words like risk, threat and harm floating around in political discourses on justice and border control – helps confusing an already confused scenario of what exactly is Great Britain without the EU going to look like. Particularly, the language of security is made to echo immediacy and a sense of urgency in solving a problem that is going to affect all of us and with potentially alarming consequences. In the midst of political confusion in what Brexit will mean for the UK’s shores– especially in terms of agreements for cooperation and border control – the old adagio that sees migration as quintessential contribution to insecurity can easily resurface. In other words, the idea that – by closing our borders – we will keep out potential terrorists and transnational drug traffickers, is tempting and apparently intuitive. And yet it is a superficial and incorrect concept, as it is based on mistaken premises.

The assumptions on the links between terrorism – international terrorism – and migration from Islamic countries has been proven wrong by recent events: terror attacks in Paris and London in the past years have confirmed that perpetrators, even when they are of Islamic faiths, are usually born and bred in the country and radicalised at a later stage. Thus, even in the public domain, the fear and the following stigmatisation of Muslim migrants – current and future – seem today easier to dispute. This, however, is also the result of the visibility of terrorism, when events like the London Bridge attack of 3rd of June 2017 – which counted 8 deaths in total – dominated the news for weeks, offering the public all the details about the offenders’ past and actions. Such visibility, instead, doesn’t complement the news on much more frequent criminal activities, of serious, often transnational, and organised crime, such as drug or human trafficking, counterfeiting and/or smuggling. Organised criminal groups, however, not only benefit from this lack of visibility – as they arguably appreciate being under the radar – and will be benefitting from Brexit the most.

Indeed, myths can be debunked when it comes to organised crime and the impending exit of the UK from the European Union. The first myth relates to cross-border crime, and, as seen before, relies on the argument that with stricter border control and isolation we can disrupt trafficking and smuggling activities. This could be partially true if we were in a situation where trafficking and smuggling only happened because of the porosity of borders. This however is not true, as organised crime activities are heavily dependent, amongst other things, on market rules of offer and demand. Therefore the border – and the overcoming of border controls – is factored in the business risk. This is why isolation and increased border controls only make the business risk grow – by making it more difficult to cross the border unchecked – and the cost of an increased business risk are not born by the traffickers/smugglers, but by the clients or the victims. In other words, in a cocaine trafficking scenario, cocaine will end up costing more on the streets, because traffickers have to match the increased risk of shipping it into an isolated country, where, however, demand is not likely to decline. Learning from the experience in other countries – namely Australia for example – an option to avoid the inflation of drug costs on the street will be shipping lower quality drugs as well or developing drugs locally produced. In all accounts, however, the increased business risk paired with the usual demands leads to the possibility to increase profits: if cocaine is going to be more expensive in the UK, but demand is not falling, then the UK will become an attractive place to do business. In this sense, Brexit will not only not decrease the availability of (transnationally-shipped) drug, but will also increase profits for organised crime groups. Great Britain needs to be able to work with partners towards international cooperation in policing – which Brexit also threatens – in order to understand how criminal networks work across global routes and how best to intervene to disrupt them.

There is another myth as well which relies on the nature of contemporary organised crime, as a threat to national security in the form of transnational networks and not so much as a local issue. While it is obvious that some (organised) crimes are transnational, the nature of organised crime in Great Britain is certainly not just transnational, as, arguably, it has always been very local instead.  Organised crime networks in different parts of the UK can be both “heavy” organisations, structured and “organised”, but also “lighter” organisations, based on opportunistic network ties, occasional cooperation and easier involvement for willing participants. If we consider organised crime as a socio-behavioural model of doing crime, rooted in networks and (sub)cultural values, it follows that together with fighting networks that operate cross border, policies must consider how organised crime activities and actors are extremely linked to local environments, changes and structures and social, economic and cultural levels. This line of thought re-establishes organised crime as a very British problem, that isolation and border control are not likely to affect in the way certain political factions would like, i.e. by reducing it.

With concerns linked to the City of London becoming the ‘laundry of choice’ of different criminal groups, both local and foreign, political parties have repeatedly called for a review of regulations. With the advent of Brexit, and with the possible changes in transparency regulations now set out by the EU, this concern becomes even more real. When it comes to understanding and policing organised crime, together with many other threats the UK considers national security concerns, we must therefore conclude that Brexit would only make for a weaker and more isolated Britain. That translates in more opportunities for profit and investments for transnational criminal networks – and will be a nightmare for national law enforcement agencies.


Anna Sergi, Lecturer in Criminology and Deputy Director of the Centre for Criminology, University of Essex –  asergi@essex.ac.uk@annasergi

Copyright free images: from author


Applying the criminological imagination to the Armed Forces community: Challenge or opportunity?

Many of the significant issues faced by veterans, post service, fall outside of the traditional focus of the criminological lens.



KAlbertsonDr Katherine Albertson, Senior Lecturer, Helena Kennedy Centre for International Justice, Department of Law and Criminology, Sheffield Hallam University. Katherine has completed a British Academy funded narrative history interview project with criminal justice engaged veterans; Forces in Mind funded evaluation of a veteran-specific social capital building recovery service; and is currently conducting an Armed Forces Covenant funded community capacity building project working with the Armed Forces community across South Yorkshire.

Two significant yet apparently contradictory anniversaries coincide this year with regard to the public identification of, and with, the UK Armed Forces community. Attention is currently focussed on positively marking the sacrifice this community made in centenary celebrations of the end of the First World War. Meanwhile it is a decade since the 2008 National Association for Probation Officers (NAPO) report identified, distinctly less positively, more than 20,000 ex-service personnel languishing in the UK criminal justice system.

The subsequent lack of debate of this startling finding did not end until the Howard League’s (2011) assertion that members of the Armed Forces community represent the largest occupational subset of the male prisoner population, effectively bringing the problems with some members of the Armed Forces community to the attention of public, political and criminological spheres.  In the same year we saw the ratification of the UK Armed Forces Covenant in which document responsibilities to current and former Armed Forces personnel and their families are formalised. The subsequent Government response came in the form of Lord Ashcroft’s Veterans Transition Review (2014) and for criminal justice specifically – the Phillips Review (2014). Despite a number of initial forays of research work in this area – proffering outmoded explanations of veterans’ offending, largely in terms of individual deficits – developments really seem to be becoming more sophisticated and moving forward much more quickly over the last few years.

During my initial work, focussing on veterans’ contact with the criminal justice system and substance misuse, it became apparent fairly quickly that these classically criminological topics were among a much wider range of social ills faced by veterans, post service. These include concerns such as working age veterans in the UK are nearly twice as likely to be unemployed as their civilian contemporaries; just 39% of employers would consider employing a veteran without industry specific experience (YouGov, 2017) and that 54% of the general public believe service leavers have a physical, emotional, or mental health problem (ONS, 2017). Personally, being involved in this piece of work highlighted certain restrictions from operating within the traditional criminological canon. Many of the significant issues raised fell outside of the traditional focus of the criminological lens.

The benefits of a strengths-based, culturally competent holistic approach to veteran status as a positive identity marker is highlighted in my evaluation of a veteran-specific peer support service. Veteran status can facilitate reciprocal and generative relationships, for example, supporting desistance from crime identities or sustaining recovery from substance misuse. Key to this relational, social capital building approach to working with veterans is a reduction in social isolation through to the development of a positive community participation-based identity. In short, those engaging in the project successfully attained an alternative positive ‘military veteran citizenship’ identity.

This highlights the fact that traditional research on military veterans may have suffered from taking an inappropriate approach. An initial epidemiological or etiological and incontrovertibly quantitative approach to this topic area effectively marginalised a broader more holistic focus. Such an holistic focus, if grounded in the phenomenology of emotional work, can incorporate into criminology the impacts of “background conditions such as power, gender, social class, ethnicity” (Katz 2002, p 376). The significant impact of class, status and issues of identity and behaviour expectations over the life course were further underlined during our British Academy/ Leverhulme narrative life history interviews with military veterans. Veterans, like all cultural groups, are not homogenous. A veteran’s pre-military background is as important as – and impacts on – their time in the forces and their post service history.

There are general lessons to be learned! Armed Forces community issues, as a case study in point, illustrate that the criminological imagination would benefit from approaching offending from a broader explanatory framework incorporating diversity, human rights and social inclusion agendas. Future studies require a focus on issues of transitions in identity, incorporation of the community and the public’s interaction with, and response to, the Armed Forces community and an assessment of structural opportunities afforded. These studies must also include attention to the impact of decisions of the state and wider international forces which shape transitional experiences. In other words, a focus beyond the ‘offending population’ is required. These holistic explorations, for the time being, remain scarce.

We also cannot ignore the all too familiar underlying (and increasingly global) discourse of undeservedness which tends to infuse such contemporary debates. In this context, competing public images of military veterans and their families represent them as more or less “deserving” or “undeserving” based on circumstances beyond their control. This ultimately introduces a false ‘moral’ or puritanical edge to the discussion and may influence policy and practice decisions concerning the distinction between those we deem the most justified of rights holders within the Armed Forces community, and those we feel have no legitimate claim on our scarce resources. This is however familiar territory for the criminological lens, parallels with the community reintegration of custody leavers.

That is not to say, however, that veterans’ issues are not increasingly being considered critically within British criminological circles. The notion of veterans as victims of state-initiated conflict has been proffered as an analytical challenge; the term ‘Veteranality’ has been introduced to encapsulate how the criminal justice system has barely begun to come to terms with working with veterans who commit crime. Bourdieuian concepts, such as habitus and field have recently been employed to theorise the distinct, yet interconnected, spaces between military and civilian worlds highlighting the long lasting influence or cultural legacy of a military history.

Although potential contributions from cultural and zemiological criminology may have much to offer in this context, it is becoming clear that the Armed Forces community including veterans, as a cultural group, have a unique experience in which a multi-disciplinary approach would appear extremely relevant and from which we could learn lessons more generally. As McGarry and Walklate, in their British Society of Criminology Newsletter piece, “The ‘Criminology of War’, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing!” advise, we ought to exercise caution in approaching studies from ‘within the confines of established criminological enclaves’ (McGarry and Walklate 2017, p 44).

Wider developments in the criminological literature have shifted a focus on initiation of crime to that of exploring social and relational processes as both protectors and supporters of positive identification markers for desisters from crime. An effective position from which one can explore the shifts in identity and identification with this transitioning ex-military cohort, tied to the importance of wider relational factors in the cementing of desistance processes, is most notably encapsulated within the third stage of the desistance processes – tertiary desistance. Described most eloquently as the result of a ‘dialectical relationship between one’s own personal identity, and the availability of positive social role opportunities’, operating to ensure the individual retains agency, as ‘ultimate concerns emerge from, are immersed in and shape their relational worlds’ (Weaver, 2012, p. 405).

The tertiary desistance framework prioritises opportunities for the processes of gaining a sense of social acceptance, belonging and participation, both within one’s own community and wider society, thus enabling wider less solely ‘criminal’ focussed concepts of citizenship, social justice, integration and solidarity to be considered (Maruna 2012; McNeil 2014; Fox 2015; 2016). This approach can then incorporate the significance of understanding of the nature and patterning of ex-forces personnel’s opportunities to form social connections, community ties and their interactions with the civilian public.

My research indicates, it is from this perspective, borne out of the criminological canon, which allows for the consideration of identity, recognition and group stigma-related issues that can ensure the future development of the criminological imagination can be applied most usefully to the Armed Forces community. It is clear a distinct Critical Veteran Studies approach is the way forward. This will enable a sharper focus on the significance of interconnections between personal experiences, community relations through to wider society and the political sphere for this increasingly politicised and currently targeted community. My current area of project work with the wider Armed Forces community Covenant in South Yorkshire  is informed by this contextualisation.

Katherine is an active member of the Observatory for military veteran affairs (https://www.omva.co.uk/) and a member of the International Advisory Board for the Forces In Mind Trust funded research project at the Senator George J Mitchell Institute for Global Peace, Security and Justice at Queen’s University Belfast. The project is focussed on exploring negative transitioning from the British military back into civilian life. Katherine has recently authored a chapter entitled: ‘Building social capital to encourage desistance: Lessons from a veteran-specific project’, in the Routledge Companion to Rehabilitative Work in Criminal Justice, due for publication in 2018. Katherine is also co-author, alongside Dr Emma Murray and Dr Paul Taylor, of an international edited collection entitled: Military past, civilian present: International perspectives on veterans’ transitioning from the Armed Forces‘, due for publication in 2019.



Ashcroft Review (2013) The Veterans Transition Review.

Fox, K. J. (2015). Theorizing community integration as desistance-promotion. Criminal justice and behavior, 42(1), 82-94.

Fox, K. J. (2016). Civic commitment: Promoting desistance through community integration. Punishment & Society, 18(1), 68-94.

Howard League (2011) ‘Report of the inquiry into former Armed Service personnel in prison’

Katz, J. (2001) ‘Analytic Induction’, in Neil J. Smelser and Paul B. Baltes (eds) International Encyclopedia of the Social and Behavioral Sciences, Oxford: Elsevier.

McNeil, F. (2014) Three aspects of desistence: http://blogs.iriss.org.uk/discoveringdesistance/2014/05/23/three-aspects-of-desistance/

Maruna, S. (2012). Elements of successful desistance signaling. Criminology & Public Policy, 11(1), 73-86.

National Association of Prison Officers (2008) Ex-Armed Forces Personnel and the Criminal Justice System.

Phillips, S. QC, MP (2014) Former Members of the Armed Forces and the Criminal Justice System: A Review on behalf of the Secretary of State for Justice.

Weaver, B. (2012). The relational context of desistance: Some implications and opportunities for social policy. Social policy & Administration, 46(4), 395-412.



Dr Katherine Albertson, Senior Lecturer, Helena Kennedy Centre for International Justice, Department of Law and Criminology, Sheffield Hallam University.

Email: k.albertson@shu.ac.uk


Image courtesy of The Veterans Foundation, see more on www.veteransfoundation.org.uk

The invisible labour and visible satisfaction of editing a journal

Editing a journal, even with a large team, undoubtedly is a lot of work, but is more than compensated for by being able to see what researchers are studying across the discipline

Sarah Armstrong, Michele Burman, Laura Piacentini

(Co-editors-in-Chief, Criminology and Criminal Justice)

CCJ image

Criminology and Criminal Justice, the official journal of the BSC, will be 20 years old in 2019. Over these two decades the journal has published, and continues to publish, empirical, methodological and theoretical work from around the world and in areas as diverse as the discipline of criminology itself. We have led a Scotland-based Editorial Team for two years (our first issue in which we edited content was in 2016) and have been invited to contribute to the BSC blog to reflect on the journal and our vision for it.

In applying for the Editorship of CCJ, we set out three aims:

  • To achieve wide international recognition and influence;
  • To publish and promote the highest quality work, particularly building on the journal’s existing reputation for strength in (a) offering a critical analysis of the crucial issues of our times, (b) areas of applied and policy related research, and (c) methodological diversity and rigour; and,
  • To embody a supportive and welcoming ethos that recognizes the values of collegiality, equality and diversity in the development and dissemination of world changing ideas.

We treat these aims as equally important and mutually constitutive. Of course all journals will be seeking to publish the best quality work and most also will be aiming for international impact. However, it was our belief after being involved in journals for many years as authors, reviewers and on editorial boards that inclusivity, collegiality and work-life balance are crucial to realising the first two aims. This has meant we share equally the role of Editor-in-Chief, and operate on a rotating on call basis, where one of the three of us takes the lead each month working with the Editorial Officer Dr Caitlin Gormley and the Associate Editors to manage that month’s workload of new paper submissions, revised submissions, queries from authors and reviewers and other business.

We strive towards collegiality and inclusivity not only in our interactions within the Board, which is composed of a range of scholars at different stage of career and institutions, but also by encouraging as much as possible, and very occasionally exercising discretion to moderate, positive and constructive feedback to authors. But it has been our pleasure to notice that in general the gratuitously harsh and biting review has become increasingly rare. On the other hand, being in a position to see all the papers that go through a journal brings home an understanding of how much free labour goes into academic publishing. The work of reviewers, and often editors as well, is invisible in university workload models but amounts to thousands of hours per year. And given how much we rely on colleagues’ good will, it continually amazes us how considerate and thorough reviewers are. And this applies to the most senior, well-established academics as to career scholars. We are looking at ways to acknowledge the work of reviewers, and are considering publishing an end of year thanks and list of reviewer names as some other journals do. We welcome feedback on this and other means of recognising this effort.

Metrics aren’t everything, but nevertheless can tell us how the journal is faring over time, and we are seeing great success in this. The journal’s impact factor is on the rise, increasing substantially, to 1.088 in 2016 (from 0.75 in 2015). This is attributable as much to the work of the prior, Leeds-based Editorial Team (led by Adam Crawford) as to our tenure, but of course, is ultimately a function of the quality and interest of work submitted to us. Manuscript submissions are up, increasing 35% between 2015 and 2016, with further rises in 2017 submissions (through October). Our acceptance rate for 2017 (thru October) is 25%. Downloads of CCJ articles have been growing in each year from 2015 to 2017. The most downloaded article in 2017 was by Kath Murray (issue 5), entitled ‘“Why have we funded this research?”: On politics, research and newsmaking criminology’ (over 3,600 times!) and the second most downloaded was by Esther FJC van Ginneken and David Hayes writing on ‘“Just” punishment? Offenders’ views on the meaning and severity of punishment’. These are only two examples of a range of stellar work published over the year.

In terms of international range and quality of work, we have put in place a new International Advisory Board consisting of scholars whose work as both authors and colleagues we admire. We look to the international board to act not only as reviewers, but as ambassadors for the journal, putting us in touch with potential authors and reviewers in their regions and fields. We have excellent representation from the UK, Europe, Asia, North America and Australia and New Zealand, and are seeking to deepen and develop our links to colleagues in African and Latin American countries. On this front, we have some exciting work from these regions that has already come out or will soon be published from a study of police officers in Ghana to a forthcoming study of restorative justice in Chile.

The first Special Issue under our Editorship is hot off the press (February 2018) and is on the theme of Coercive Control. It is guest edited by Kate Fitz-Gibbon, Sandra Walklate and Jude McCulloch and features papers from Canada, New Zealand, England, Scotland and Australia. This is an especially timely topic as countries in many parts of the world currently are considering whether to enact laws incorporating this concept. The articles share experiences from diverse jurisdictions and do not shy from critically considering the implications and need for new legislation. Keep an eye out for a blog on the issue on the journal’s webpage.

Editing a journal, even with a large team, undoubtedly is a lot of work, but is more than compensated for by being able to see what researchers are studying across the discipline, and to work with authors developing a paper for publication. We hope BSC members will consider publishing with CCJ as British Criminology has a longstanding and deserved reputation around the world for producing critical, reflexive and rigorous work.

Dr Sarah Armstrong, University of Glasgow, UK
Professor Michele Burman, University of Glasgow, UK
Professor Laura Piacentini, University of Strathclyde, UK

Photo copyright free – Stack of CCJs – Taken by Sarah Armstrong

“You wanna know what it’s all about”: Art with Veterans in Custody

“what it means to have served ones country and later to serve a prison sentence”


Dr Emma Murray is a Senior Lecturer in Criminal Justice at Liverpool John Moores University. Emma’s research focuses upon the welfare of veterans’, particularly those convicted of a crime in England and Wales and how we might better understand them in policy, critical pedagogy, and through art.

TDegenhardt Dr. Teresa Degenhardt is a Lecturer in Criminology at Queen’s University Belfast and a Fellow of the Senator George J Mitchell Institute for Global Peace, Security and Justice. Teresa has worked on the intersection between war, crime and punishment in discourses on the war on terror, on military interventions, and the development of border security technology.

On April 6th, 2017, The Separate System[1], a film made by artist Katie Davis, in collaboration with military veterans in prison was premiered at FACT (Foundation for Arts and Creative Technology), Liverpool. As part of a broader event entitled ‘To Serve’, the audience were asked to consider what it means to have served ones country and later to serve a prison sentence. As the Chair and invited guest (respectively), we were tasked with responding to the film – an art work ‘owned’ by many – which attends to the visceral experiences of military life and the criminal justice system. Over the moving images and sounds of the prison and public spaces in the film, veterans speak their narratives to their imagined audience. Indeed, the audio alone is important and through this work their voice has a platform. The notable lack of veterans voices in discourses of the convicted veteran has already been suggested as a glaring omission (Murray 2016; Treadwell 2016), as such this platform is empowering. As the literature on war and the military continues to emerge with vibrancy in criminology, we contend that this artwork invites those veterans who participated into our theorising – placing the embodied and aesthetic experiences of their lives as they know them in sharp focus.

Our Approach

It is important to note that this was not a research project but an art project – and we do not intend to ‘evaluate’ the art but rather harness some of the key messages, as we see them, for further criminological enquiry. We approach this artwork, conscious that experiences of war, and of the criminal justice system are inherently embodied and sensual, as is becoming a soldier, a veteran, and a criminal. As such, we see this an opportunity to engage with those aspects of the convicted veteran’s life experiences that are difficult to capture through language. Crucially, this socially engaged process of knowledge production offers insights which were signed off by veterans themselves.

Our inquiry focusses upon two broad questions:

  1. What does this form of engagement with veterans in custody offer to criminological scholarship on war and the military?
  2. What might veterans in custody gain through their collaboration?

We do not claim to be able to answer these questions in detail here, nor do we have the space to attend to all which the work has to offer. Instead we bring three stills[2] from the film to bear upon our current work and thinking on war, criminal justice, and those who have experienced both. And believe that the images selected (and those that fall outside of our remit here) have the potential to advance our understanding of the personal, symbolic, material, relational and transformative aspects of veterans in custody lived experiences.

Embodying the Separation

From the opening scenes we are invited into consider the separation that the ‘convicted veteran’ perceives of body and place because of the attached label. Their veteran status separates them from others in custody, and their conviction separates them from more dogmatic images of what it means to be a veteran to society more broadly. Or at least this is their perception.

The Faceless Body


This image without the face, appears to us amid the sounds of prison doors closing, symbolising the moment when the often-uniformed ways in which we come to know the veteran (epitomising a sovereign’s pride and bravery) is left behind. The symbolic power of the faceless body offers an insight into the visceral perception of those who participated. It also reminds researchers to be mindful of the ontological and epistemological questions necessary when placing veterans in custody into a broader critical criminological commentary. Particularly to ensure that the socially constructed, yet self-constituting experience of being a veteran, isn’t overlooked.

The Space of Separation

One becomes a veteran in civilian society. The veteran status serving as further evidence of the separation between the military and the civilian space which they serve, or at the very least that military experience, once disclosed, alters how one is understood. The convicted veteran however, is removed further. The spaces of multiple separation portrayed in this film offer an insight not into how the convicted might understand their identity and place in society, but the space (i.e. the military or the prison)  in which new forms of subjectivity (i.e. the convicted veteran) are created and exercised through the individual.


The prison wing captured through this image makes visible the distinction, representing the materiality of the disciplinarian techniques deployed by the state to contain and separate this violence from military violence. Here, the convicted veteran represents a glitch in that governmental machine – a failure of disciplinarian techniques and their separation.

“Civvie Street” or War landscape?

WarSeparation is, of course, the works’ recurring theme. Separation however, is also relational – occurring only with reference to that from which one is separated (whether physical, imagined or otherwise).  For the veterans who feature in this film, that is civilian society – or “Civvie-Street”. The destruction apparent in the last image chosen for this piece captures the demolition of a building in Liverpool. Working closely with Katie, veterans can share memories of war, evoked in an otherwise ‘peaceful’ street, noting how the clear distinction between inside/outside, us/them, good/bad, war/punishment and peace/war are more problematic than ever in the 21st century (Degenhardt 2010; Loader and Percy 2012). Through this image, veterans themselves, share how they have experienced that complexity, and how that complicates their resettlement post-service. The continual reference to ‘Civvie-Street’ might also remind us that while both the military and criminal justice are important to studies of the convicted veteran – our subjects have a third reference point – society.

Projecting the Voice

Aware that their work will have many audiences, those involved took the opportunity to project their truth across the prison wall, and back to the civilian society they find so difficult to be part of. Telling us of the struggles of routine tasks which were done for them in the military, and of how civilians had asked them questions about their deployments, urging them to confess of the violence they may have experienced and indeed committed. They tell us how they had felt betrayed by the state, and how it has included and excluded them for violence. As an audience we hear of the importance of using your weapon, the fitness, the safety, and the difficulty to adjust to civilian norms and law. They tell us of bullying and of how they were discharged (through a letter). Their voices, and the parts of their bodies which they chose to share (such as their eyes and tattoos), a sort of performativity depicting the gaze and the marks of their experience of both state institutions.


As 2018 draws ever closer, these insights are of growing importance. It is a year which marks the end of the centenary of World War 1 (1914-1918); twenty years since Ruth Jamieson (1998) published her seminal chapter ‘Towards Criminology of War’, urging us to consider the complex connection between war and crime; and ten years since National Association of Probation Officers report made national news with their claims about the prevalence of veterans serving a sentence in prison or in the community in England and Wales. Each serving as important reference points for the study of war within criminology. Taken together, these three milestones reveal how war, its violence and its affect are represented, reproduced, and imagined in way which ask us to question the distinction between military and civilian life, connections, and distinctions between total institutions such as the prison, and the military – and the liminality of the ‘veteran offender’ upon such thresholds.

Arts with Veterans in Custody?

Which brings us back to our questions. We hope to have demonstrated the potential of this form of engagement with veterans to unearth some of the most complex understanding of the experience of conflict and conviction, those that can hardly be expressed through language. When veterans collaborate with artists in this way, affective understandings of themselves can be harnessed and reproduced through creative practices which are inclusive and participatory. In art we see the capacity to produce culture- rather than just express it – where culture is intended to be that which connects human beings. When veterans collaborate in such projects, they tell more than their story, they also ask their audience to interrogate their own schemes of intelligibility.



Degenhardt, T. (2010) ‘Representing War as Punishment in the War on Terror’, International Journal of Criminology and Sociological Theory, 3 (1): 343-358.

Jamieson, R (1998) ‘Towards a Criminology of War’ in Vincenzo, R; South, N & Taylor, I. (Eds) The New European Criminology, Crime and social order in Europe London: Routledge.

Loader, I, and Percy, S (2012) ‘Bringing the ‘Outside’ In and the ‘Inside’ Out: Crossing the Criminology /IR divide’ Global Crime 13: 213

Murray, E. (2016) ‘The Veteran Offender: A Governmental Project in England and Wales’, in McGarry, R & Walklate, S. (Eds) The Palgrave Handbook of Crime and War. Palgrave MacMillan.

Treadwell, J. (2016) ‘The Forces in The Firing Line? Social Policy and the ‘Acceptable Face’ of Violent Criminality’, in McGarry, R & Walklate, S. (Eds) The Palgrave Handbook of Crime and War. Palgrave MacMillan.


[1] The Separate System (2017) Katie Davies with Andy, Billy, Callum, Danny, Gaz, Gaz, Jay, Jonno, Mark, Mark, Paul, Rob and Trevor. Commissioned and produced by FACT. Supported by the Armed Forces Covenant Fund and Paul Hamlyn Foundation. With thanks to HMP Altcourse and HMP Liverpool. Available at https://vimeo.com/228801873

[2] The Separate System (2017) video still, © Katie Davies, commissioned and produced by FACT, supported by Paul Hamlyn Foundation, all rights reserved


Emma Murray, Senior Lecturer in Criminal Justice, Liverpool John Moores University  E.T.Murray@ljmu.ac.uk, @Emma_T_Murray

Website: https://www.omva.co.uk/

Teresa Degenhardt, Queen’s University Belfast t.degenhardt@qub.ac.uk

Copyright free images: from the authors.

What role should the military, or military methods, have in law enforcement?

John Lea explores the increasingly blurred boundary between crime control and warfare in the context of police shoot to kill and drone killings of terrorist suspects

LeaphotoJohn Lea, Honorary Professor of Criminology


At a recent public seminar at the LSE participants discussed the pros and cons of the militarisation of the ‘war’ against organised crime in the global south. Many of the themes, such as the very different skill sets of military and police with regard to communities, the tendency of the military to ride roughshod over human rights, and the counter-productive role of ‘war on crime’ rhetoric were familiar enough. But one theme I thought was crucial: how should the state respond when organised crime itself comes armed to the teeth with military-grade weaponry? In Mexico and many Brazilian favelas, for example, militarised police and drug traffickers battle it out, while criminal justice issues such as arrest and due process are reserved for the few survivors who come out with their hands up.

The issue of militarisation is of course about more than equipment and training. It is about aims. However heavily armed the police may be, a key aim of police work is to arrest offenders, gather evidence and prosecute. Violence is a last resort after warnings have been given. The aim of military action is, by contrast, to identify enemy assets, assess the risk they present, target and neutralise them with armed force. Violence is a first resort and pre-emptive action is legitimate. In historical practice the two paradigms are of course blurred, as various traditions of paramilitary public order policing illustrate.

Today they are merging in new ways. While military deployed in armed conflict zones often find themselves fulfilling a diversity of roles including policing, domestic criminal justice agencies increasingly adopt strategies which predispose us to accept military-style thinking when dealing with criminality. Pre-emptive action based on risk assessment of likely future activity is one example. ‘Pre-crime’ strategies range from anti-social behaviour injunctions to computerised ‘predictive policing’ popular in some US cities. In Chicago individuals on a computer generated Strategic Subjects List considered to be at risk of gun violence are referred to local police commanders for ‘preventive intervention’. But a key driver of risk-based pre-emptive policing is undoubtedly the ‘risk of catastrophic success’ in terrorist activity.

Counter-terrorism brings into the frame a much harder and more straightforward adoption of military methodology: ‘shoot to kill’. There is a history of ‘shoot to kill’ policies not only in British colonial policing, but also in the still clouded history of the ‘The Troubles’ in Northern Ireland as shown by the fate of the Stalker Inquiry. The shooting of Jean Charles de Menezes as a mistaken terrorist suspect in London in 2005 raised questions about whether such a policy has ever been adopted by anti-terrorism policing in mainland UK. The shooting of Mark Duggan in 2011 raised similar issues

Nevertheless, ‘shoot to kill’ has become overt UK government policy: though not yet in the UK itself – except obviously in cases where terrorist action is underway. With the defeat of Islamic State in Iraq and Syria the UK government has been contemplating the prospect of British Jihadis returning to the UK with combat and bomb making experience intent on causing havoc in our cities. Killing them by missiles fired from drones while they are still in the Middle East is now accepted policy. The US has been doing this for some time and so has the UK. In 2015  the British Jihadi Mohammed Emwazi, known as ‘Jihadi John’ was killed by in a drone strike over Syria. Around the same time Reyaad Khan and two other alleged British ISIS fighters were killed by RAF drones.

In early November (2017) the new UK Defence Secretary, Gavin Williamson, told The Sun newspaper he was “insisting we must carry on using drones to hunt down and kill any Brit-born IS jihadis bent on wreaking havoc.” Similar sentiments were voiced by International Development minister Rory Stewart. Earlier in the year the Attorney General, Jeremy Wright called, in a speech to the International Institute for Strategic Studies, for the ‘updating’ of international law on the issue. Meanwhile it might be asked who puts together the ‘kill list’. The key decisions are apparently being made by the National Security Council chaired by the Prime Minister. At the time of the 2015 killings a spokesperson for the NSC said “It was about what action we should be taking to protect British people here in Britain.”

Such action to protect us is justified by two arguments. Firstly, the chaos in the Middle East makes conventional law enforcement and extradition impossible. Secondly, internet communication makes terrorist conspiracies which would have previously taken months to hatch organisable in a matter of days. So the ‘risk of catastrophic success’ has shifted such that traditional police action – allowing the conspiracy to develop to a certain stage to yield evidence of intent –  is far too risky and it is deemed necessary to take pre-emptive action before the plot has matured sufficiently to yield the type of evidence of criminal conspiracy that would stand up in a normal criminal court.

Such arguments have been around for some time. In the immediate post 9/11 period they were used as justification for pre-emptive arrest or restrictions on liberty by anti-terrorist control orders. Now they are being used as a justification for pre-emptive action against individuals by military forces: the RAF acting in Syrian airspace.

There is no doubt a political assumption being made that the British public will put up with such killings as part of the general chaos in the Middle East. Allowing the Jihadis to return to the UK would make such pre-emptive killing unacceptable. The individuals would rather have to be subject to Terrorist Protection and Investigation Measures (under 2011 legislation) and closely watched for evidence of terrorist-related activity. This would be, so the argument goes, expensive, time consuming and not fail-safe.

Drone killings have of course been the subject of widespread criticism, not to say outrage.  Quite apart from the moral issue of extra-judicial assassination there is also the question of inaccuracy. Military hardware is not designed to kill individuals but groups of enemy soldiers. Rarely is collateral damage avoided. In the US case, according to the website The Intercept, “Between January 2012 and February 2013, U.S. special operations airstrikes killed more than 200 people. Of those, only 35 were the intended targets” and to cover this up the US military were designating all dead as EKIA – enemy killed in action. There is no reason to assume that UK operations are any more precise.

So the military become corrupted by corrupt methods. The corruption of the military was one of the interesting themes which came up at the LSE seminar on the role of the military in the ‘war on drugs’. It was noted how in Mexico the army began as a force against the drugs cartels but then lost its bearings and sections peeled off and collaborated with the traffickers. The ‘clandestine policing’ of terrorist suspects by drone killing contains its own quite different pressures which nevertheless may lead to a loss of bearings by military operatives. Anyone who has seen films like ‘Eye in the Sky‘ or ‘Good Kill‘ will know what I’m talking about.

So what is the alternative? The critique of the ‘war on drugs’ is focused on de-criminalisation and the shift to a harm-minimisation approach.  Such policy is at least relatively straightforward and is gathering momentum, including in Latin America. It is naive to image, however, that it will remove organised crime as a major actor.

It is far more complex and controversial to devise an alternative to the ‘war on terror’ . To publically admit its failure and indeed counter-productive role takes political courage. Even more so to call for amelioration of the socio-economic conditions that give rise to terrrorism. Nevertheless perhaps a revival of the idea of an ‘ethical’ UK foreign policy based on democracy and human rights in the Middle East is now overdue. Maybe Labour will deliver on this? Meanwhile in domestic social policy, working to integrate rather than effectively criminalise the communities in which terrorists may seek sanctuary – the equivalent of a ‘harm minimisation’ approach – remains highly controversial.



John Lea is Honorary Professor of Criminology at the University of Roehampton UK. He has written widely on criminological theory, criminal justice, crime and war. His publications include (with Jock Young) What Is to Be Done about Law and Order? (1984); Crime and Modernity (2002)


Copyright free images: from author.

The BSC in the North West of England

Account of recent activity by the North West Branch of the British Society of Criminology

Higher education institutions across the North West of England have been teaching and researching criminology for a number of decades, and a quick scan of university websites reveals that criminology programmes are offered in some form at Lancaster, Liverpool (Liverpool University, John Moores or Hope University), Manchester (Manchester University or Met), Salford, Edge Hill University, UCLAN, Chester, Cumbria, Bolton and Blackburn. It is debatable whether there is a distinct North West ‘brand’ of criminology, but there is certainly ample evidence of sustained critical scholarship and for theoretically innovative and policy engaged research. The North West Branch of the British Society of Criminology has sought to provide a platform for this research, and for many years it has co-ordinated an annual competition where academics from North West universities have been given the opportunity to submit proposals for part-funding of research events. The resultant events have clearly reflected the diversity of North West criminology.

The very first event in this series – a symposium entitled ‘Whose side are we on? The state of contemporary British criminology’ was hosted by the University of Liverpool in January 2007. The symposium was addressed by Professor Maureen Cain, Professor Tim Hope, the late Professor Barbara Hudson and Professor Joe Sim and it signalled the start of a range of BSC activity in the region that remains to this day. In 2014, for example, the University of Liverpool hosted the annual British Society of Criminology conference and, in April of the same year, Edge Hill University hosted a regional research seminar on the theme “Adolescent-to-Parent Violence: Current Issues and Future Priorities”. This was followed in April 2015 by an event held at Salford University: “Public Criminology and the 2015 General Election”. In May 2015 we shifted venue to Liverpool Hope University for “Critical Reflections on the Relationship between Punishment and Desistance” and, in 2016, two further seminars were held, the first in May at Manchester Metropolitan University on “Extremism and Counter-Extremism: Changing Images, Emerging Realities”. The second was in June 2016 when the University of Liverpool hosted a seminar on “Criminology, Criminal Justice and the Ex-Military Community: The Way Ahead”. In 2017 we were able to contribute towards the funding of three seminars. The first was in April at Liverpool Hope University, on “Low level Sanctions: The Business of Courts and Criminology?”. This was followed a month later by a seminar on “Ethics in Criminological Research” at Lancaster University, plus a seminar on “Violence, Culture and Victimhood” at the University of Liverpool. We hope to continue to contribute to further seminars this coming year and beyond and already have some exciting plans for 2018.


For future information about events see the Regional Group section of the BSC website

Professor Andrew Millie is Professor of Criminology at Edge Hill University. His research draws on aspects of philosophy, theology and human geography to inform criminological debates and his latest book Philosophical Criminology was published in September 2016. Andrew is also well known for his research on policing and anti-social behaviour.



Professor Barry Goldson has been a Professor at the University of Liverpool since 2006 and, from 2009, he has held the Charles Booth Chair of Social Science. His principal research interests are situated at the inter-disciplinary interface(s) of criminal justice, criminology, law, social/public policy, social and economic history, sociology and socio-legal studies. He is perhaps best known for his work on youth justice.


For LGBT People, Criminal Justice Equality Remains Elusive

While same-sex sexual activity is no longer criminalised in much of the Western world, and acceptance of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people is growing, full equality for LGBT people before the law and criminal justice systems remains elusive.

Matthew Ball Author image

Dr Matthew Ball, Crime and Justice Research Centre, Queensland University of Technology



While same-sex sexual activity is no longer criminalised in much of the Western world, and acceptance of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) people is growing, full equality for LGBT people before the law and criminal justice systems remains elusive. Taking stock of some of these inequalities in Australia, the USA, and the UK reveals some startling insights into the extent of this inequality, and highlights where criminal justice practitioners, governments, and communities must continue to fight for change.

The ‘Bathroom Bills’ recently proposed in some US states are clear examples of recent attempts to reinforce legal inequality. These laws intend to force people to use public bathrooms that match the sex on their birth certificate, whether or not this aligns with their gender identity. These laws specifically (and deliberately) intend to expose transgender people to possible legal sanctions simply for using facilities that align with their gender, and force them to use facilities in which they may be at risk of violence. In Queensland, Australia, the homosexual advance (or ‘gay panic’) defence was only removed in March 2017. This legal defence allowed murder charges to be reduced to manslaughter if the deceased ‘made a pass’ at the perpetrator, to which the perpetrator reacted violently. This was an acceptable legal defence for a gay hate crime – one that South Australia has yet to remove. These laws play on old ideas that LGBT people are deceptive or predatory, and pose a threat, whether to children or heterosexuality.

While governments have recently expunged the criminal records of those convicted under sodomy laws, and issued formal apologies to LGBT people for government and police behaviour, for many LGBT people, the damage to their lives has been done. They may have lost jobs – or been unable to apply for others – because of their criminal record. In some jurisdictions, despite having had consensual sex with another adult who just happened to be the same sex, they may have had to register as a sex offender. The historic criminalisation of LGBT people thus casts a long shadow.

It might be less surprising that LGBT people remain the victims of some truly horrific hate crimes. The recent murders of fourteen-year-old Giovanni Melton and eight-year-old Gabriel Fernandez, allegedly committed by their fathers who feared having gay sons, highlight the extreme family violence often directed at LGBT people. Hate-motivated violence from strangers also remains a significant issue. For example, while there is debate over whether to classify the 2016 mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in the US as a terrorist attack or hate crime, the fact remains that most of the 49 victims were Latino LGBT people.

These are certainly extreme events and receive significant media coverage. However, the everyday forms of victimisation that LGBT people experience often remain overlooked. In Australia, it has taken recent debates over marriage equality and the Safe Schools anti-bullying program to expose the largely invisible undercurrent of homophobia and transphobia impacting on LGBT people. This has been lent some political legitimacy by prominent politicians such as former Prime Minister Tony Abbott, who has very publicly stated that ‘It’s OK to say No’ to marriage equality. This has also limited progress in other areas where LGBT people experience significant victimisation. Evidence suggests that LGBT people experience domestic violence and ‘revenge porn’-related offences just as much, or at higher rates, than non-LGBT people, and yet this research has not translated into visible public campaigns to address these offences.

A key aspect of the inequalities experienced by LGBT people in the criminal justice system is their interactions with police. Unsurprisingly, given the historical role of the police as a source of injustice and discrimination in their lives – whether by arresting them for same-sex sexual activity, failing to take their victimisation seriously, or committing acts of violence against them – many LGBT people remain reluctant to report victimisation to the police. This has a very direct impact on their access to justice.

Police services have taken great strides in many respects to improve their relationships with LGBT people. I’ve spoken to many police officers who demonstrate a real commitment to change. The Queensland Police Service recently released a powerful video of officers talking about the struggles they have faced as LGBT people themselves. In 2016, Constable Mairead Devlin, a transgender police officer, raised a rainbow flag to celebrate International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia (IDAHOT) at Queensland Police headquarters. Similar visible symbols of support are not unusual across the UK and USA, with police services increasingly participating in LGBT-related campaigns, such as Wear it Purple Day or IDAHOT. While these attempts to shape the ‘public image’ of the police can be dismissed as symbolic, these symbols are nevertheless powerful. They may actually lead to a victim of hate crime reporting to police as opposed to suffering in silence.

But healing the historical rifts between the LGBT community and the police is challenging. Even where significant progress has been made over decades to do so, it only takes one incident – or one homophobic or transphobic officer – to open up old wounds. The violent arrest of Jamie Jackson Reed, a young gay man, at the 2013 Sydney Mardi Gras Parade, which was filmed and subsequently circulated online, led to questions about just how committed police were to LGBT people, even in the Australian city considered the most progressive on these issues. Incidents such as these have a disproportionate impact on the levels of trust LGBT people have in the police. And they only entrench the difficulties that LGBT people experience accessing justice.

The barriers that LGBT people encounter accessing justice also appear in the harshest part of the criminal justice system – imprisonment. And nothing illustrates this more than the experiences of transgender inmates, who have long encountered significant and unique inequalities here. Transgender inmates have been uniquely impacted by our long-standing tendency to house male and female prisoners separately, based on the sex assigned to them at birth and not on the basis of their gender identity – regardless of whether or not they have undergone any kind of hormonal, surgical, or social transition. This means that transgender prisoners have continually experienced institutional misgendering, and had restricted access to gender-appropriate clothing or personal items, hormones, and transition processes.

These policies have had serious and compounding impacts on transgender inmates. Not only have they impacted significantly on their mental health, but they have also put them at risk of violence from other inmates. The unique vulnerabilities of transgender inmates have often led to them being housed in high-security areas or solitary confinement, not because of any wrongdoing on their part, but for their ‘protection’ from other prisoners. The resulting increase in security measures governing their lives in prison has further limited their ability to express their gender identity while incarcerated. Coupled with the isolation that comes with such housing, it has only increased their risk of suicide.

Though prison authorities are increasingly recognising and responding to these unique needs, as suggested by the recent UK Ministry of Justice ‘Review on the Care and Management of Transgender Offenders’, and the guidelines issued by the US Department of Justice, change is not yet widespread. In some jurisdictions, limited information about the policies underpinning the treatment of transgender inmates is available, and little is known about the experiences of transgender inmates themselves. And the rights of transgender inmates to access surgery and other treatments as part of their transition remains hotly debated in some contexts.

While the injustices discussed here are significant – and certainly not exhaustive – important changes have occurred to improve equality for LGBT people in the criminal justice system. And the pace of change is tied to broader social gains addressing other inequalities facing LGBT people. After all, efforts to improve reporting and response rates for homophobic and transphobic hate crimes are only effective as long as there is a broader social commitment to eliminating homophobia and transphobia.

However, those seeking to address legal and criminal justice inequalities face the danger that the broader social appetite for equality for LGBT people extends only to more ‘palatable’ issues such as marriage equality, or violence prevention, and not less popular issues such as the treatment of transgender prisoners. Meaningful change in the interests of justice obliges us to pursue goals that may not be immediately embraced by the public at large. Those who fought against criminalisation, and who sought to separate in the public’s mind LGBT people from the ‘sex offenders’ and ‘perverts’ they had long been associated with, faced similar problems.

Major gains have only occurred because LGBT people have had their voices heard, their unique experiences of legal and criminal justice acknowledged, and because police, government, and community leaders have recognised the need for business as usual to change. These must remain key components in the struggle to achieve greater justice and equality for LGBT people.


Dr Matthew Ball is a researcher in the Crime and Justice Research Centre, Queensland University of Technology, Australia. His research examines sexuality, gender, and the criminal justice system, and he has published widely. Matthew is the author of Criminology and Queer Theory: Dangerous Bedfellows?, and co-editor of Queering Criminology.

Email: mj.ball@qut.edu.au

Twitter: @Dr_Matt_Ball

Copyright free image: from author.