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In memory of Ayshea
This week, we laid one of our own to rest. A beloved colleague and friend, Ayshea left us far too soon.
In these blogs, we often write about the big issues, the challenges we face, and the ways we seek to understand them. Yet we should never forget that change happens one person at a time. When Ayshea joined us, she was another colleague among many. It did not take long, however, to realise that she brought a unique perspective to everything she encountered, as anyone who has read her blog posts below will recognise.
The pain of an untimely departure is made all the greater by our ability to imagine what might have been. We reflect not only on the work she left behind, but also on the work she would undoubtedly have gone on to accomplish had she been given the time. It feels as though she stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence. For those who knew her, however, that seems almost impossible to imagine.
Every colleague remembers her differently. I remember a conversation we had about vegetarianism and its influence on rising fruit and vegetable prices for low-income families. Her inquisitive mind asked the kinds of questions that made you pause and think again. Her manner was gentle, her attention genuine, and her interest in others so disarming that it allowed you to explore your own thoughts without fear of judgement.
She was an activist without ever needing to speak of activism. She was a fighter without bluster, a thinker without rhetoric. She was a friend without conditions and a colleague without expectations. Above all, she was my friend.
Even now, I find myself expecting to hear her distinctive northern voice somewhere across campus. Some absences are difficult to accept because the presence they leave behind remains so strong.
Rest well, Ayshea. We will not forget you.
Exploring the National Museum of Justice: A Journey Through History and Justice
UK Justice v The Demonic and Others
The Caracas Job: International Law and Geo-Political Smash and Grab
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Murder
The day I first heard about the murder of Damilola Taylor, it sounded like another story of urban violence. The details were shocking but not unusual. A broken glass bottle had been used as a weapon, causing a severe wound to the victim’s thigh. The injury severed a major artery and the victim later died in hospital. The attack took place in Peckham, South London, a place that was already associated in the public imagination with concerns about crime and disorder.
As a criminologist, nothing in the initial reports immediately stood out. Violence is not exclusive to cities, but its concentration and visibility often differ from those found in rural communities. News reports framed the killing as an act of senseless violence, another tragic incident in the broader landscape of urban crime. It was only as the story developed that it became clear this case was about far more than the act itself.
The victim was Damilola Taylor, a ten-year-old boy who never made it home from the library. His family had come to Britain from Nigeria, hoping to secure medical treatment for his sister. Instead, they became the centre of one of the most significant criminal cases in modern British history.
The public reaction was shaped by more than the brutality of the attack. Both the victim and the eventual perpetrators were children. Damilola was ten years old. Those later convicted were only twelve and thirteen at the time of the attack. The case challenged popular assumptions about violence, childhood, and responsibility. It forced the public to confront the uncomfortable reality that serious violence can emerge among the young and that its consequences are often devastating for entire communities.
Yet the criminological significance of the case lies not primarily in the violence itself but in the response to it.
The original trial ended in acquittals. Central prosecution evidence was undermined by concerns regarding witness reliability, while expert testimony suggested that Damilola’s injuries may have resulted from an accident rather than a deliberate attack. Questions emerged about the collection, interpretation, and presentation of evidence. The Taylor family expressed frustration with the criminal justice system, arguing that the investigation lacked the rigour their son’s death deserved.
What followed was a prolonged struggle over competing versions of events. Forensic evidence became a central battleground. Experts disagreed. Investigators faced criticism. Public confidence was tested. Eventually, a retrial produced convictions after DNA evidence linked two brothers to the attack. The criminal justice system ultimately secured guilty verdicts, but the process revealed the difficulties of investigating serious crime and maintaining public trust when institutional performance is called into question.
For local residents, the case became symbolic of wider concerns about neglect and marginalisation. Community members organised protests and campaigns demanding justice. They were not simply asking for convictions. They were questioning whether institutions were responding adequately to the needs of communities already struggling with poverty, violence, and limited political influence.
As public debate intensified, the murder became associated with broader discussions of knife crime and youth violence. Politicians, journalists, and commentators searched for explanations. Some focused-on culture. Others pointed to family breakdown, social exclusion, or failures of policing. In doing so, the discussion often moved away from the specific circumstances of Damilola’s death and towards competing political narratives about crime.
This is where criminology offers a different perspective.
For much of the public, murder is often understood through the lens of mystery and resolution. Who committed the offence? How was it done? Will justice be served? These questions dominate media coverage because they provide a compelling narrative. Criminology, however, asks different questions. What social conditions surround acts of violence? How do institutions respond to harm? Which voices are taken seriously, and which are ignored? What political interests shape public understandings of crime?
Viewed through this lens, the case becomes about much more than identifying offenders. It reveals how crime can expose institutional weaknesses, generate political controversy, and deepen existing social divisions. The debates surrounding Damilola’s murder were not only about individual responsibility. They were also about policing, justice, community trust, race, and belonging.
More than two decades later, what remains most important is not the symbolism attached to the case but the human tragedy at its centre. Damilola Taylor was a ten-year-old Yoruba boy who spent his final moments bleeding to death in a stairwell. Behind every discussion of policy, forensic evidence, and criminal justice reform stands a child who never returned home, and a family forced to live with unimaginable loss.
That is perhaps the most important lesson criminology can offer. Crime is not interesting because it is sensational. Crime matters because it causes harm. The true significance of Damilola Taylor’s murder lies not in its notoriety, but in what it reveals about the ways societies respond to suffering, the institutions entrusted with delivering justice, and the communities left to carry the consequences when they fail.
If you would like to find out more about Damilola Taylor and get involved with the trust which bears his name, more information can be found here.
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Beyond the Price Tag: The Enduring Value of Higher Education
There is currently a growing public debate about the cost of higher education. At a time when the cost of living is widely recognised as a crisis, questions about whether university offers “value for money” have gained considerable momentum. Opinion polls, newspaper commentaries, and online discussions increasingly ask whether attending university is still worthwhile.
As a new cohort of students prepares to walk through the doors of universities across the country, it is perhaps the perfect time to reflect on the true value of higher education.
If there is an opportunity to understand that value, we must first consider the challenges universities have faced in recent years. The era of austerity was followed by the disruption of the COVID-19 pandemic, Brexit, global instability, and increasingly restrictive immigration policies across Europe, including the UK. Together, these developments have created significant pressures for universities and wider society alike.
These pressures have also affected the labour market. Graduate employment pathways that were once seen as relatively secure have become increasingly uncertain. For many years, the link between higher education and access to better employment opportunities was a central justification for the introduction of tuition fees. As economic conditions changed, however, questions emerged about whether universities could continue to maintain their relevance to the job market. Yet focusing solely on graduate outcomes risks overlooking much of what universities actually offer.
Throughout these challenging years, universities have experienced reductions in funding, financial pressures, and declining international student recruitment. Despite this, they have continued to provide high-quality education, support local economies, and, in many regions, remain among the largest employers. University communities enrich society through research, innovation, public engagement, and outreach programmes that support local people and communities. In many respects, universities serve as centres of learning that extend far beyond their campuses.
Yet this is not their greatest strength.
As a new generation of students enters higher education, regardless of their subject or institution, they become part of a community dedicated to learning, discovery, and personal development. While higher education is often viewed simply as the next stage of the education system, it is fundamentally a different experience.
University education is adult education. Its purpose is not merely to transfer knowledge but to develop independent learners. Students are encouraged to engage critically with ideas, to take ownership of their studies, and to develop their own educational identities. As they progress through their degrees, they begin to shape their own areas of expertise and specialism.
Learning at university is inherently investigative. Unlike many previous educational experiences, students have greater freedom to determine what they study and how they study it. They choose topics for assignments, identify areas of interest, and explore perspectives that matter to them. This process develops not only subject knowledge but also critical thinking, problem-solving, research capability, and intellectual confidence. These are skills that remain valuable long after graduation.
It would, however, be impossible to discuss the value of university without recognising its broader impact on those who attend. For many students, whether they are the first in their family to enter higher education or not, university becomes one of the most memorable periods of their lives. It is a transformative experience that they will reflect upon for years to come.
University offers a unique opportunity to encounter new ideas, engage with unfamiliar perspectives, and challenge previously held assumptions. It is a time when students test not only theories and concepts but also themselves. They discover strengths they did not know they possessed and develop resilience through overcoming challenges. Importantly, they do so in an environment designed to support learning, growth, and development. It is a place where mistakes become opportunities to learn rather than reasons to fail.
University is often described as a rite of passage, but it is far more than that. The relationships formed between students and academic staff, among fellow students, and between students, employers, and the wider community can have a lasting impact. Many students build friendships that endure for a lifetime. Others choose to volunteer, contribute to community projects, or gain valuable employment experience while studying.
These experiences cannot easily be measured.
How do we quantify the achievement of a student who spent years being told that a career in retail represented the limit of their potential, only to graduate confidently discussing complex ideas in their chosen field?
How do we measure the transformation of a student who arrived from school having been bullied, lacking confidence and unable to speak in public, yet delivers an eloquent dissertation presentation before graduation?
What value can be attached to the student who was repeatedly told they would amount to nothing, only to stand proudly in a graduation gown surrounded by family and friends?
Universities provide opportunities and belonging for people from all walks of life. Students from economically disadvantaged backgrounds, ethnic minority communities, Gypsy, Roma and Traveller communities, immigrant and refugee backgrounds, and countless others find spaces where they are welcomed and encouraged to succeed. At its best, higher education is founded upon the principle that knowledge should be accessible and that potential should not be limited by circumstance.
For these reasons, and many more, the true value of higher education cannot be fully captured through metrics, rankings, salary data, or opinion polls. These measures may tell part of the story, but they cannot capture personal transformation, intellectual growth, confidence, belonging, or aspiration.
Most importantly, they cannot place a price tag on human potential.
So, to all of you crossing the threshold and joining a university this month, let me offer a warm welcome. You are about to begin a journey of self-discovery, growth, and learning. My colleagues and I look forward to guiding you through the wonderful world of knowledge.
“Welcome to higher education. Your journey starts here”.
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Without solidarity there is no social movement: beyond the rainbow
As this month draws to a close, it is worth remembering that for several years now June has been recognised as Pride Month. It is a significant date in the calendar for the LGBTQ+ community both nationally and internationally. Arguably, it is now a cultural event marked by celebrations and activities in towns and cities across the world. On the surface, it may not appear to be a criminological talking point. However, that changes when we consider the origins of Pride itself.
It is widely acknowledged that Pride has its roots in the Stonewall Riots of June 1969. At the time, a marginalised community, alongside other groups campaigning for equality, raised concerns that were fundamentally about civil and human rights. They made a stand against discrimination and criminalisation. Respect and decriminalisation were among the key issues, accompanied by broader demands for equal rights, including the recognition of same-sex relationships and the right to family life. The birth of Pride, therefore, is firmly rooted in activism, civil rights, and the struggle for visibility.
During the 1970s, Pride was unapologetically political, highlighting the inequalities and prejudices faced by the LGBTQ+ community, many of which stemmed directly from the criminalisation of homosexual acts. In the UK, calls for reform had already begun to gain momentum. Following the Wolfenden Report (1957), homosexual acts between consenting men over the age of 21 were decriminalised in England and Wales in 1967. Scotland followed in 1980 and Northern Ireland in 1982. While decriminalisation ended the prosecution of consenting adults, the struggle for equality was far from over.
In 1988, the UK government introduced Section 28 of the Local Government Act, which prohibited local authorities from “promoting homosexuality” through teaching or published materials. It became clear that Pride remained an essential mechanism for drawing attention to injustice and actively protesting against it. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Pride was as much a political demonstration as it was a celebration of visibility and community. Campaigns focused on issues such as repealing Section 28, equalising the age of consent, and achieving legal recognition for same-sex relationships. Equality in the age of consent was eventually achieved in England, Wales, and Scotland in 2001 and in Northern Ireland in 2008. Section 28 was repealed in 2003 in England and Wales, having already been repealed in Scotland in 2000. Civil partnerships came into effect in 2005, and same-sex marriage was legalised in 2014, with the first marriages taking place in 2014 in England, Wales, and Scotland and in 2020 in Northern Ireland. For many people outside the LGBTQ+ community, these milestones appeared to signal the end of the movement’s activism.
Far from it.
Since the early 2000s, there has been a growing political focus on, and often hostility towards, members of the trans community. Questions surrounding access to public facilities, pronoun use, healthcare, and participation in sport have become central features of what is often described as the “culture wars”. It is interesting to observe the shift in language from civil rights to culture, as this change obscures the most important aspect of these debates. At their core, these are questions about human rights, dignity, and equal treatment.
Regrettably, some members of the LGBTQ+ community have distanced themselves from this struggle, arguing that full equality has already been achieved. To them, and to many others, I would simply point out that the movement born at Stonewall was led in significant part by trans women and gender-nonconforming individuals whose determination to be visible and respected helped ignite a global movement. Their courage challenged discrimination and injustice. They stood at the forefront of a community demanding recognition and dignity; their mascara countered discrimination and their lipstick was their war paint to fight injustice. Now that their rights are increasingly questioned and, in some cases, curtailed, the wider community should stand alongside them. After all, without solidarity there can be no social movement.
Many people today regard Pride as a relic of late twentieth-century activism that has lost its political relevance. In this view, it has become little more than a party or an excuse for performative displays. Such perspectives overlook a fundamental truth: human rights are rarely given freely, particularly to those who experience discrimination. They are fought for, defended, and maintained through constant vigilance because rights can be eroded as easily as they are won.
Even within the UK, some cities and towns continue to struggle to finance Pride events due to local political opposition or dwindling institutional support. Internationally, Pride marches are increasingly met with counter-protests framed around “family values”, while LGBTQ+ communities in a number of countries face direct and indirect attacks on their rights and freedoms. Several countries have restricted or banned Pride events altogether, while others have altered their legal frameworks in ways that make public expressions of LGBTQ+ identity increasingly difficult or risky. Furthermore, homosexuality remains criminalised in dozens of countries worldwide, with penalties ranging from imprisonment to, in some cases, far harsher punishments.
In many ways, the legal changes securing LGBTQ+ rights in the UK represent the fulfilment of decades of activism, mobilisation, and collective struggle. They are significant achievements and should be celebrated. Yet what matters most is what comes next. Progress is never guaranteed.
As the flags are taken down and the celebrations come to an end, as trans rights continue to be contested, and as democratic societies increasingly grapple with intolerance and authoritarian tendencies, perhaps it is time to remember the spirit that gave birth to Pride. Perhaps it is time, once again, to put on our lipstick and continue the struggle for those whose voices have too often been silenced.
And to the colleague who once asked me why the “L” comes first in the community’s acronym: it is there, in part, because during the AIDS crisis of the 1980s and 1990s, many lesbians stepped forward when others would not. They cared for gay men who were dying, held their hands when families and institutions turned away, and demonstrated a profound humanity in the face of fear and stigma. It is that humanity that we recognise, honour, and celebrate.
Images
L-R Sydney Gay and Lesbian Holocaust Memorial and Corby Pride
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Who owns the past?
The question of whether museums remain relevant comes up often in discussions about heritage and old artifacts. Yet the evidence suggests they continue to play a vital role in modern society. People still visit them in huge numbers, and schools rely on them as living classrooms. According to the Department for Culture, Media and Sport, museums in the UK welcomed over 40 million visitors in the past year, with attendance peaking in the summer months and during school holidays. Clearly, the appetite for museums hasn’t faded.
Part of their enduring appeal lies in their diversity. There are museums filled with towering dinosaur skeletons, others dedicated to technology from just a decade ago, and countless spaces in between. Among these institutions, some of the oldest — like the British Museum — continue to spark debate and fascination. Its vast collection spans human history, art and culture from across the world. Within its walls you’ll find globally significant artifacts such as the Parthenon Sculptures, the Rosetta Stone, the Ife Head from the Benin Bronzes, and the enigmatic Hoa Hakananai’a from Rapa Nui.
These objects draw millions not only because they are beautiful or ancient, but because they connect us to stories far larger than ourselves. Whether museums should continue to hold such items is an ongoing conversation — but their relevance, at least in the public imagination, remains undeniable. A statue in a museum can provide some understanding about sculpture and carving techniques but in the case of Hoa Hakananai’a it misses the context of its purpose.
The relevance of museums becomes even more pronounced when the objects they display belong to the heritage of other cultures. Calls for repatriation have grown louder in recent decades, often framed as reminders of a colonial past in which powerful nations acquired “beautiful” or culturally significant objects simply because they had the means to do so. For many communities, these artifacts are not just historical items but living symbols of identity, memory and continuity — and their absence is felt as a loss.
Museums often argue that they preserve artifacts and ensure their longevity for future generations. They present themselves as spaces where millions of visitors can immerse themselves in global culture. That is their position, but recent events, such as the Louvre heist, make it harder to accept this claim without question. Even more troubling is the way many of these artifacts were originally removed from their countries of origin. It is difficult to frame these actions as preservation rather than a form of cultural piracy.
The Parthenon Sculptures are a striking example. They were hacked into transportable pieces in the early 19th century to be displayed in what was intended to be the private museum of a Scottish aristocrat. Their removal took place a decade before Greece gained independence through revolution. When that aristocrat later fell into bankruptcy, he sold the sculptures to the British Museum for half his original asking price. This is just one of many transactions that undermine the argument that such acquisitions were motivated by respect for other cultures. Instead, they reveal a pattern of opportunism that continues to shape the debate today.
Therefore, it becomes reasonable to question whether some museums function as relics of a colonial past — institutions that still hold objects taken under unequal power dynamics. Returning artifacts to the communities and regions they originate from is increasingly seen as a step toward cultural justice. Although the Kingdom of Benin no longer exists in its historical form, the Edo people of Nigeria continue to identify with the bronze casts of the Obas (kings) they depict, and they have long called for their return.
The movement for repatriation is gaining international momentum as governments and museum authorities begin to return culturally significant pieces to their rightful communities. If the history and identity of people are the most important parameters, then why insist on keeping the originals in foreign institutions while offering only copies to the cultures that created them?
This leads to a deeper question: who owns the past? How do we curate the history and culture of peoples who endured colonial rule, displacement, or even extermination? Human history may be collective, but the cultural significance of certain artifacts reminds us that we must confront the crimes of the past — the looting, the violence, and the erasure — and recognise the need for justice for those who were wronged.
In the end, the relevance of museums in the twenty‑first century depends on their willingness to confront the legacies that shaped their collections. These institutions can no longer rely solely on their educational value or their role as guardians of global culture; they must also reckon with the histories of extraction, violence and inequality that brought many treasured objects into their halls. Repatriation is not about emptying museums but about rebalancing relationships, restoring dignity and acknowledging that cultural heritage carries meaning far beyond its aesthetic or historical worth. If museums choose to evolve to collaborate, to return what was taken, and to tell fuller, more honest stories they can remain vital spaces for learning and connection. But their future relevance will be measured not by the number of visitors they attract, but by the integrity with which they address the past and the justice they help shape for the generations to come.
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Not reading criminology? That’s criminal!
There are two kinds of criminology conversations I get embroiled in these days! Those with people who read criminology where we discuss many social/cultural phenomena under a specific lens or those with people who find criminology interesting, but consume popular crime instead. The first group with varying level of engagement is beginning to decode some tell-tell signs in current events, using their knowledge of the discipline, as a deciphering mechanism. The second group is quite different. Their understanding of crime is based on dramatisations and literary conventions around plots and characters. Even real crime is harbouring under the guise of some “exclusive” journalistic exposé…far from any basic criminological understanding.
Years ago, a colleague from Sociology told me a story regarding a family event. They were completing their PhD in the discipline, and they were questioned by an elderly person, as to what they would do when they finished their thesis. They responded in the usual way many graduate students tend to, about hoping to get into academia or get some funding for some further research. The elderly person didn’t seem satisfied…. they prompted further. What will be your specialism? What will you be able to tell people that you are proficient in? Society and people, the colleague replied! That’s hardly a skill, the old relative replied; we all live in society! The colleague was equally intrigued and offended. They thought that by offering a succinct response it would have helped their relative to understand without being confounded with notions on symbolic interactionism and ethnomethodology. This was a little anecdote that resonates with many social scientists, criminologists included, that whilst they try to explore people and culture around them, they are becoming distant to the actual people around them.
The degree of challenge in recent years seems to increase for disciplines where people in general have a vague idea of what it is. Many try to use psychological terms to explain other people’s behaviours, without realty appreciating, the clinical and scientific conditions of the term. That is relevant to criminology too. The representation of crime for public consumption has introduced some of the discipline’s terms into everyday parlance. From forensic terms on profiling, to the origins of criminality, expectations on crime are forged. A criminologist’s reaction to popular criminology pundits tends to be, well not quite, only to be met with disbelief of the criminology they know!
One of the ways to appeal to those interested in popular criminology and take them to the discipline will be to add some facts and figures that promote reality. Perhaps but that has been done before but only to give a gloss of “legitimacy” in fiction. It makes it more compelling, but it doesn’t really offer the depth of knowledge. To understand criminology, one must read criminology. The history is filled with colleagues who brought their imagination to the discipline. From Bonger’s Criminality and Economic Conditions to Jock Young and The Criminological Imagination there are books and papers that are waiting to be read by a new audience to try to figure out these ideas.
Maybe we all live in society and heard about crime and even experienced it, but to understand it we need some criminology. The discipline, as with all social sciences, is a dialogue between people ready to carry forward the next constructs that shall appear as crimes. If we read them and take part in these conversations maybe the area of harsh punishments, exclusion and persecution may not be as appealing. We are an academic discipline but at the same time we open the discussion to our community. So if you are neither a student, graduate, nor fellow academic and you are interested in criminology, why don’t you come to visit? https://www.northampton.ac.uk/about-us/contact-us/open-days/
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Crime II: Nature and Nurture?
Fifty years after Lombroso’s theory of the “born criminal” an American criminologist explored the origins of criminality from a different perspective. For Edwin Sutherland people weren’t born criminal but more likely influenced by their environment. Differential association became a theory that changed the focus from biology to environment. This change signified the change of focus within criminology from biological attributes to social features.
This change, whilst it appears to have capture a wider social sciences debate at the time is also the outcome of trying to understand a world in motion. Sutherland’s theory comes in the early 20th century after the First World War and a massive economic crash. These placed in doubt the scientific and political economy of the time, putting many of these earlier ideas to the test. Popular movements challenged the authority of the state and the way hegemony suppressed people. Differential association was exploring how people learn crime by observing others; it becomes what Kornhouser called a ‘cultural deviance theory’.
What Sutherland articulated is that crime is learned through group conflict, again attempting to explain all types of crime like the biological theories before. The 20th century with its fast pace, European (World) wars, was the embodiment of modernity, progression and change. The world outside Europe began to rise against colonial rule, whilst civil rights became a rallying objective for many disenfranchised groups. In most countries worldwide women got the vote in the 20th century whilst, many countries recognised unions, and civil rights organisations, a consequence of people’s mobilisation.
It comes as no surprise then that differential association was a theory of crime that tried to account for social change and understand criminality as a process that moves within this change. The foundations of the theory in its simplest form are straightforward, covered in 9 main points:
1. Criminal behavior is learned from other individuals.
2. Criminal behavior is learned in interaction with other persons in a process of communication.
3. The principle part of the learning of criminal behavior occurs within intimate personal groups.
4. When criminal behavior is learned, the learning includes (a) techniques of committing the crime, which are sometimes very complicated, sometimes simple; (b) the specific direction of motives, drives, rationalizations, and attitudes.
5. The specific direction of motives and drives is learned from definitions of the legal codes as favorable or unfavorable.
6. A person becomes delinquent because of an excess of definitions favorable to violation of law over definitions unfavorable to violation of the law.
7. Differential associations may vary in frequency, duration, priority, and intensity.
8. The process of learning criminal behavior by association with criminal and anti-criminal patterns involves all of the mechanisms that are involved in any other learning.
9. While criminal behavior is an expression of general needs and values, it is not explained by those needs and values, since non-criminal behavior is an expression of the same needs and values.
The theory is more than a compilation of points and citing them is informative, but it doesn’t really explain the reach and extent. As a general theory of crime it can account for violent crime, theft and even white collar crimes. This reach of theory coincided with the wider discussion on “normative conflict” that focused on cultures. As discussions on cultural dominance, subcultures and the role of social groups became a sociological and criminological point these ideas introduced by Sutherland seemed to bare relevance.
There were questions already regarding the theory’s basis in terms of clarity as a cultural deviance theory, when culture focused away from poverty and social struggles. The cultural conflict seemed to resonate with certain crime categories, but it could not account for harm, leaving zemiologists to doubt the accuracy of its scope as theory. Furthermore, whilst the focus moved on from an arbitrary biology to the role of the environment some of the fundamental problems expected to be resolved in a general theory of crime remained unanswered.
So what is the answer? We can safely say that crime and most importantly criminality isn’t the product of a singularity nor its binary. How can we account for example for a social phenomenon whose definition of crime (in some instances) relies on law. A mechanism that the establishment uses to safeguard its privileges and position. The definitional factors therefore ought to transcend general conventions of biology or social interaction. Often they don’t, they merely describe the phenomenon but in closed cultural formats. There is a much more interesting and complex explanation that take us away from this binary. If you are more curious and you want to know more, why not join a criminology course and see if you can get the answer you expect or not. Criminology is a fascinating discipline not because we talk blood and bones but because we reflect on the current state of crime and imagine a world of crime (or free of crime) in the future. If you wish to share that imagination you can but join us!
https://www.northampton.ac.uk/courses/criminology-ba-hons/ https://www.northampton.ac.uk/courses/criminology-phd/ https://www.northampton.ac.uk/courses/criminology-with-psychology-ba-hons/ https://www.northampton.ac.uk/blog/why-i-chose-criminology/
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Crime I: Nature or Nurture?
This is a two-part blog on embracing some of the criminological theory origin stories in the Western hemisphere. Is crime the product of bad genes or bad society? Are we born or made criminal?
In this week we shall be exploring our understanding of biological theories originating back in the 19th century with the “born criminal”. The following week we will look at the role of the environment.
The born criminal.
In 1871 Cesare Lombroso became the director at the Pesaro Mental Health Hospital (asylum) that housed the clinically insane. In that environment he examined the anatomical anomalies of residents in laboratory conditions. The era of the scientific exploration of deviance had begun. These meticulous explorations of bodily features and skulls formed the basis for his later thesis on The Born Criminal. The basis of his criminal population were residents of the asylum. His control group (i.e. those deemed non-criminal) were soldiers. Later, these were combined with the population of inmate prison population Lombroso and his associates visited. As he assumed an academic role in one of the finest Italian universities the world read his seminal publication of L’uomo delinquente {The Born Criminal] .Which in 1876 became one of the publications that influence the work of its contemporaries. In later years studied in exactly the same way. criminality in women using sex workers and prisoners as his research population cumulating into the 1893 publication of La Donna Delinquente: La prostituta e la donna normale [The Criminal Woman: The Prostitute and the Normal Woman.
His theoretical reach transcended borders and became widely read in the English-speaking world. This is an origin story according to numerous textbooks about the biological understanding of criminality. When embellished with some of the original quotes this becomes a theory of crime that explains different criminalities and makes the most significant leap that combines scientific rationale with crime. The methodology of anthropometry is a careful measuring of human features, prominently skulls! The main theoretical “innovation” was the recognition of a state of atavism; a regression onto a prior evolutionary stage for those engaged in crime.
A theory of crime on the born criminal seemed as a logical step at a time hailed as an era of discovery and exploration. A time that social and political movements in Europe asked profound questions about self and society. This narrative of course largely overlooks that whilst West European and US philosophers are posing these questions their elites and establishment are preoccupied with colonialism and dominance. In fact, it is the time European conflict around the world for dominance intensified. By the late 19th century, the European powers will try to manage their dominance in other continents by carving the world according to their own interests. The Berlin conference of 1884-85 is the culmination of such European competition and led to the split of Africa into zones of colonial influence.
In what way is The Born Criminal related with colonialism?
The theory of the “born criminal” breaks down humanity into two; the “normals” and the “atavists” which conveniently separates us from them. The criminal becomes the outcome of a lack of civilisation that can be seen in their physical features. There is history in separating people for the sake of exploitation, subjugation and even genocide. In this context of using civilisation (solely European) as the feature of separation is something previously seen in the colonisation of the Americas. When the European explorers landed in a new (for their map’s) continent the question of whom it belongs to was answered using religious decree. Several popes described the native population of these “discovered lands” as uncivilised and unworthy of human rights. It was the papal “Doctrine of Discovery” that denied the indigenous people rights to their land because uncivilised, faithless people (calling it terra nullus or empty land) do not count. Therefore, this separation for discrimination is not new, but Lombroso brought some scientific veneer to it.
It is important to remind all that “the born criminal” theory was widely discredited already in the early 20th century, when data analysis found no support for atavism and the biological features seemingly associated with criminality. Yet still this approach seems to capture even today some interest in the collective criminological imagination. Can you tell the prospective criminality reflected in someone’s gaze? It is a question that people still wonder, despite any lack of empirical or scientific data. The line of separating criminals from non-criminal provides an arbitrary differentiation that offers some clarity of how criminals should look, in a similar fashion to separating the “civilised” from the “savages”. In this overreaching correlation crime becomes the act of the uncivilised. It can also be flipped over and the uncivilised are the criminals contributing to the continuous fear of those who see the foreigner with suspicion.
A theory about the biological origins on crime that has offered us an explanation of the born criminal that has no scientific evidence but carries populist imagination because we take comfort in differentiating people. Next week we shall be exploring a theory that explores of the environmental factors of crime.
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25 years is but a drop in time!
If I was a Roman, I would be sitting in my comfortable triclinium eating sweet grapes and dictating my thoughts to a scribe. It was the Roman custom of celebrating a double-faced god that started European celebrations for a new year. It was meant to be a time of reflection, contemplation and future resolutions. It is under these sentiments that I shall be looking back over the year to make my final calculations. Luckily, I am not Roman, but I am mindful that over 2025 years have passed and many people, have tried to look back. Since I am not any of these people, I am going to look into the future instead.
In 25 years from now we shall be heading to the middle of the 21st century. A century that comes with great challenges. Since the start of the century there has been talk of economic bust. The banking crisis slowed down the economy and decreased real income for people. Then the expectation was that crime will rise as it did before; whilst the juries may still be out. the consensus is that this crime spree did not come…at least not as expected. People became angry and their anger was translated in changes on the political map, as many countries moved to the right.
Prediction 1: This political shift to the right in the next 25 years will intensify and increase the polarisation. As politics thrives in opposition, a new left will emerge to challenge the populist right. Their perspective will bring another focus on previous divisions such as class. Only on this occasion class could take a different perspective. The importance of this clash will define the second half of the 21st century when people will try to recalibrate human rights across the planet. Globalisation has brought unspeakable wealth to few people. The globalisation of citizenship will challenge this wealth and make demands on future gains.
As I write these notes my laptop is trying to predict what I will say and put a couple of words ahead of me. Unfortunately, most times I do not go with its suggestions. As I humanise my device, I feel sorry for its inability to offer me the right words and sometimes I use the word as to acknowledge its help but afterwards I delete it. My relationship with technology is arguably limited but I do wonder what will happen in 25 years from now. We have been talking about using AI for medical research, vaccines, space industry and even the environment. However currently the biggest concern is not AI research, but AI generated indecent images!
Prediction 2: Ai is becoming a platform that we hope will expand human knowledge at levels that we could have not previously anticipated. One of its limitations comes from us. Our biology cannot receive the volume of information created and there is no current interface that can sustain it. This ultimately will lead to a divide between people. Those who will be in favour of incorporating more technology into their lives and those who will ultimately reject it. The polarisation of politics could contribute to this divide as well. As AI will become more personal and intrusive the more the calls will be made to regulate. Under the current framework to fully regulate it seems rather impossible so it will lead to an outright rejection or a complete embrace. We have seen similar divides in the past during modernity; so, this is not a novel divide. What will make it more challenging now is the control it can hold into everyday life. It is difficult to predict what will be the long-term effects of this.
During the late 20th and early 21st centuries drug abuse and trafficking seemed to continue to scandalise the public and maintain attention as much as it did back in the 1970s and 80s. Drugs have been demonised and became the topic of media representation of countless moral panics. Its reach in the public is wide and its emotional effect rivals only that of child abuse. Is drugs abuse an issue we shall be considering in 25 years from now?
Prediction 3: People used substances as far back as we can record history. Therefore, there will be drugs in the future to the joy of all these people who like to get high! It is most likely that the focus will be on synthetic drugs that will be more focused on their effects and how they impact people. The production is likely to change with printers being able to develop new substances on a massive scale. These will create a new supply line among those who own technology to develop new synthetic forms and those who own the networks of supply. In previous times a takeover did happen so it is likely to happen again, unless these new drugs emerge under formal monopolies, like drug companies who will legalise their recreative use.
One of the biggest tensions in recent years is the possibility of another war. Several European politicians have already raised it pretending to be making predictions. Their statements however are clear signs of war preparation. The language is reminiscent of previous eras and the way society is responding to these seems that there is some fertile ground. Nationalism is the shelter of every failed politician who promises the world and delivers nothing. Whether a citizen in Europe (EU/UK) the US or elsewhere, they have likely to have been subjected to promises of gaining things, better days coming, making things great…. only to discover all these were empty vacant words. Nothing has been offered and, in most cases, working people have found that their real incomes have shrunk. This is when a charlatan will use nationalism to push people into hating other people as the solution to their problems.
Prediction 4: Unfortunately, wars seem to happen regularly in human history despite their destructive nature. We also forget that war has never stopped and elusive peace happens only in parts of the world when different interests converge. There is a combination of patriotism, national pride and rhetoric that makes people overlook how damaging war is. It is awfully blindsided not to recognise the harm war can do to them and to their own families. War is awful and destroys working people the most. In the 20th century nuclear armament led to peace hanging by a thread. This fear stupidly is being played down by fraudsters pretending to be politicians. Currently the talk about hybrid war or proxy war are used to sanitise current conflicts. The use of drones seems to have altered the methodology of war, and the big question for the next 25 years is, will there be someone who will press THAT button? I am not sure if that will be necessary because irrespective of the method, war leaves deep wounds behind.
In recent years the discussion about the weather have brought a more prevailing question. What about the environment? There is a recognised crisis that globally we seem unable to tackle, and many make already quite bleak predictions about it. Decades ago, Habermas was exploring the idea of “colonization of the lifeworld” purporting that systemic industrial agriculture will lead to environmental degradation. Now it seems that this form of farming, the greenhouse gasses and deforestation are becoming the contributing factors of global warming. The inaction or the lack of international coordination has led calls for immediate action. Groups that have been formed to pressure political indecision have been met with resistance and suspicion, but ultimately the problem remains.
Prediction 5: The world acts when confronted with something eminent. In the future some catastrophic events are likely to shape views and change attitudes. Unfortunately, the planet runs on celestial and not human time. When a prospective major event happens, no one can predict its extent or its impact. The approach by some super-rich to travel to another planet or develop something in space is merely laughable but it is also a clear demonstration why wealth cannot be in the hands of few oligarchs. Life existed before them and hopefully it will continue well beyond them. On the environment I am hopeful that people’s views will change so by the end of this century we will look at the practices of people like me and despair.
These are mere predictions of someone who sits in a chair having read the news of the day. They carry no weight and hold no substantive strength. There is a recognition that things will change at some level and we shall be asked to adapt to whatever new conditions we are faced with. In 25 years from now we will still be asking similar questions people asked 100 years ago. Whatever happens, however it happens, life always finds a way to continue.
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25 years has gone too fast…
When we began, criminology was a single programme, a bold idea with big ambitions. Over the years, that idea grew into a department, and today, into a vibrant academic community offering a diverse range of courses that reflect the complexity of justice and society.
Our commitment to innovation has shaped this journey. We introduced research placements, immersive trips, and fieldwork experiences, from the Museum of Justice in the early days to visits to the Supreme Court more recently. These experiences have given our students not just knowledge, but perspective connecting theory with practice in powerful ways.
We’ve developed a wide range of modules and resources for those who wish to study criminology, equipping them with the skills and knowledge to join the wider criminology family. Our aim has always been to prepare students for both professional careers and academic study, ensuring they can explore every facet of this dynamic discipline.
None of this would have been possible without colleagues who share a passion for teaching and learning. Together, we’ve engaged students with new ways of thinking and approaches—turning them into the colleagues of tomorrow. This is the heart of what we do: inspiring, challenging, and empowering future generations.
As we celebrate this milestone, we also look forward. Criminology is ever evolving, and so are we. Our commitment to innovation, inclusivity, and excellence remains as strong as ever. The next 25 years will bring new challenges and opportunities and I know we will meet them with the same passion and purpose that brought us here today.
Thank you to everyone colleagues, students, partners who has been part of this incredible journey. Here’s to the next chapter in advancing criminology education and research. Together, we will continue to make a difference.
