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At what point do we act? There is plastic in the Mariana Trench!
I do not usually write about environmental issues, but I have reflected and read recently on zemiological perspectives with regard to social harms caused by excessive consumerism, and those in powerful positions who are determined to deny the impact of this on the planet. I examine this to some degree in my year two module on ‘Outsiders’, to ask students to think about their own consumer habits, perceived needs and also, the admiration and aspirations associated with wealth. I try to do my bit – I recycle, I am eating more vegetarian meals, but I also drive pretty much everywhere, and it is clear I could do more. However, I really do sympathise with those who ask whether concerned individuals can actually make a difference. This seems impossible in light of the scale of CO2 emissions from industrialised countries with high productivity and an unrelenting focus on increasing GDP. We also see football field sized areas of trees being cut from the Amazon rainforest on a daily basis, plastic in our oceans and food chains, and just recently, found at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. As consumers, we can perhaps demand change, shift our consumer habits to use more recycled materials, move towards using sustainable resources where we have the choice and contribute to broader campaigns for change.
But this can feel insignificant in the light of world leaders denying there is a problem, refusing to invest in alternative energy resources and therefore, enabling the plundering of Earth’s resources. I am not sure what it will take to change our behaviour – I am hopeful younger generations, groups like Extinction Rebellion and campaigners such as Greta Thunberg mean governments who refuse to engage with the need for change will find themselves consigned to the past, with a legacy of being very much on the wrong side of history. I hope in 10 years time we can talk about being taken to the brink and pulling back, recognising the harms being caused, meaning we focus more on the welfare of the planet and less on accruing wealth and goods. Jacinda Ardern, the Prime Minister of New Zealand recently spoke out about changing the priorities of her government in a pre-budget speech, which demanded a focus on environmental change through developing a low emissions economy and considering the welfare of citizens alongside economic growth. Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, who serves as the U.S. Representative for New York’s 14th congressional district presented her ‘Green New Deal’, to the US Congress, receiving both criticism and praise for the bold ideas – the central premise being the need to ‘reject economic orthodoxy to confront climate change’ (Guardian, 2019). Those facing harms of climate change have been and still are disproportionally represented by developing countries, less powerful states who struggle to get their voice heard, compared to world leaders who still focus on GDP and their own interests. Now that climate change is affecting North America and Europe more consistently, with rising temperatures and extreme weather patterns, we might start to see a response to these calls for change.
It is serendipitous that I write this during the British Society of Criminology conference at the University of Lincoln, where green criminology has a clear presence and profile. By following the twitter feeds @BscGreenCrim and @BSCLincs_19, we can see a range of issues being explored under the remit of #greencriminology, which has sparked my interest further and made me regret not going this year – there is always next year at the University of Liverpool! The papers include an examination by John E. McDonnell (2017) on Genocide and Green Criminology, looking at the case of the ‘Merauke integrated food and energy estate’ – a quick search reveals a project billed as increasing self-sufficiency and wealth for Indonesia is actually a ‘land grab’ and displacement of indigenous populations, alongside deforestation and numerous other impacts, all to produce food for export. Rowland Atkinson reiterates this theme examining the impact of the over consumption of the global rich on urban life – at the conference and in an extensive list of research studies. Angus Nurse examines environmental crimes committed by corporations (Nurse, 2017), who are no doubt propped up by consumer habits which demand choice and value, at the expense of creating pollution and waste which poisons our air, oceans and rivers and, as with climate change, disproportionately affects the less powerful. Finally, a shift to another fascinating area of research was presented by Tanya Wyatt, exploring the link between wildlife and drug trafficking, the former being cited as a leading cause of animal extinction (Wyatt, 2016).
Another article which then caught my eye, came from the Guardian, by Chris Packham, detailing the plans for companies who want to mine the ocean floor, the largest ecosystem on the planet, which Packham describes as ‘quite clearly an awful idea’. It amazes me that this is even been discussed as a possibility, but in light of the behaviour of some of our world leaders, perhaps this displays my own naivety as to just how far some will go to create wealth. There has to be a tipping point, a point at which we simply ask, what is more important to us? The stuff we buy? The acceptance of states enabling the use of the Earth’s resources, no matter the cost to us? The article describes oceans as the last ‘industrial frontier’, but it is also clear that more us of need to fully understand how vital they are to the health of our planet – they regulate our climate, provide food and an ecosystem which if damaged or even lost, would have serious consequences for all of us. The signs of change are there, and it is clear alongside the small efforts we make ourselves, we also need to start holding governments to account on this issue.
Atkinson R (2019) Necrotecture: lifeless dwellings and London’s super-rich. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research.
Guardian Editorial (2019) The Guardian view on a Green New Deal: we need it now, The Guardian.
Kenner, D. (2015) Inequality of overconsumption: The ecological footprint of the richest, Working Paper: 2015/2, Global Sustainability Institute
McDonnell, J.E. (2017) Can a genocide lens be of use in our understanding of the effects of the Indonesian Transmigration Program on the Indigenous People of West Papua?, Unpublished essay written for MA in Understanding and Securing Human Rights at the School of Advanced Study, University of London.
Nurse, Angus (2017) Green criminology: shining a critical lens on environmental harm. Palgrave Communications, 3, pp. 1-4. ISSN 2055-1045
Packham, C. (2019) In too deep: why the seabed should be off-limits to mining companies, The Guardian.
Wyatt, Tanya (2016) A comparative analysis of wildlife trafficking in Australia, New Zealand and the United Kingdom. Journal of Trafficking, Organized Crime and Security, 2 (1). pp. 62-81. ISSN 2374-118X
Am I a criminologist? Are you a criminologist?
I’m regularly described as a criminologist, but more loathe to self-identify as such. My job title makes clear that I have a connection to the discipline of criminology, yet is that enough? Can any Tom, Dick or Harry (or Tabalah, Damilola or Harriet) present themselves as a criminologist, or do you need something “official” to carry the title? Is it possible, as Knepper suggests, for people to fall into criminology, to become ‘accidental criminologists’ (2007: 169). Can you be a criminologist without working in a university? Do you need to have qualifications that state criminology, and if so, how many do you need (for the record, I currently only have 1 which bears that descriptor)? Is it enough to engage in thinking about crime, or do you need practical experience? The historical antecedents of theoretical criminology indicate that it might not be necessary, whilst the existence of Convict Criminology suggests that experiential knowledge might prove advantageous….
Does it matter where you get your information about crimes, criminals and criminal justice from? For example, the news (written/electronic), magazines, novels, academic texts, lectures/seminars, government/NGO reports, true crime books, radio/podcasts, television/film, music and poetry can all focus on crime, but can we describe this diversity of media as criminology? What about personal experience; as an offender, victim or criminal justice practitioner? Furthermore, how much media (or experience) do you need to have consumed before you emerge from your chrysalis as a fully formed criminologist?
Could it be that you need to join a club or mix with other interested persons? Which brings another question; what do you call a group of criminologists? Could it be a ‘murder’ (like crows), or ‘sleuth’ (like bears), or a ‘shrewdness’ (like apes) or a ‘gang’ (like elks)? (For more interesting collective nouns, see here). Organisations such as the British, European and the American Criminology Societies indicate that there is a desire (if not, tradition) for collectivity within the discipline. A desire to meet with others to discuss crime, criminality and criminal justice forms the basis of these societies, demonstrated by (the publication of journals and) conferences; local, national and international. But what makes these gatherings different from people gathering to discuss crime at the bus stop or in the pub? Certainly, it is suggested that criminology offers a rendezvous, providing the umbrella under which all disciplines meet to discuss crime (cf. Young, 2003, Lea, 2016).
Is it how you think about crime and the views you espouse? Having been subjected to many impromptu lectures from friends, family and strangers (who became aware of my professional identity), not to mention, many heated debates with my colleagues and peers, it seems unlikely. A look at this blog and that of the BSC, not to mention academic journals and books demonstrate regular discordance amongst those deemed criminologists. Whilst there are commonalities of thought, there is also a great deal of dissonance in discussions around crime. Therefore, it seems unlikely that a group of criminologists will be able to provide any kind of consensus around crime, criminality and criminal justice.
Mannheim proposed that criminologists should engage in ‘dangerous thoughts’ (1965: 428). For Young, such thinking goes ‘beyond the immediate and the pragmatic’ (2003: 98). Instead, ‘dangerous thoughts’ enable the linking of ‘crime and penality to the deep structure of society’ (Young, 2003: 98). This concept of thinking dangerously and by default, not being afraid to think differently, offers an insight into what a criminologist might do.
I don’t have answers, only questions, but perhaps it is that uncertainty which provides the defining feature of a criminologist…
Knepper Paul, (2007), Criminology and Social Policy, (London: Sage)
Lea, John, (2016), ‘Left Realism: A Radical Criminology for the Current Crisis’, International Journal for Crime, Justice and Social Democracy, 5, 3: 53-65
Mannheim, Hermann, (1965), Comparative Criminology: A Textbook: Volume 2, (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul)
Young, Jock, (2003), ‘In Praise of Dangerous Thoughts,’ Punishment and Society, 5, 1: 97-107