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Here we go again… medical misogyny continues
Rant time!
Back in August, I received a letter and text from the NHS telling me the time had come for my cervical screening- joy of joy! Women between the ages of 25- 64 years are invited for their cervical screening every 5 years. For many women, the process is simple, the procedure (if you can call it that, it’s a swab for those who aren’t aware) is also simple. But for some, the experience can be daunting, and painful. The letter tells you to book on ASAP, the text provides a link, and reminds you of the importance of attending your screening. Hesitate I do not – I book on!
The first available appointment is the end of October (2 months away!). Not ideal: in August, as many staff and students will be aware, our timetables haven’t settled and are subject to changes. Trying to select a day I don’t think I’ll have classes is basically guess work at this stage. Guess I do, and guess accurately I’ve managed. Well done me! The letter contains information on why the screening is done, what is looked for and to request a female nurse if preferred…. Erm yes! There is also information about brining/requesting a chaperone if required – good to see. But I cannot find any information about what happens if women are on their periods or pregnant. Must not matter (spoiler alert: I’m wrong. It matters!).
Rock up to my appointment (2 months down the line), currently on day 2 of my period. Bleeding heavy, managing horrific cramps, light-headedness whilst having had minimal sleep (standard day 2 joys for me). I walk rather than drive to the appointment (safety first). When I am eventually called into the room, it’s confirmed I am there for a cervical screening, but I interrupt to inform them I have a tampon in and assume I need to take this out before the swab is taken. Oh no! I cannot have the cervical screening today as they cannot take it when people are bleeding (something to do with if a positive or abnormal result they cannot differentiate between the cells). I am told I should have cancelled and re-arranged. I should not have booked the appointment for when I was on my period and that I need to book an appointment for when I am not bleeding. I should have known.
Well… why should I have known? I had looked on the links sent with the link to book the appointment and I couldn’t find anything about bleeding. I was asked why I had not ‘simply asked AI’ if I was unsure. Great. Dr’s surgeries suggesting I use AI to ask medical questions… that doesn’t feel appropriate. I figure I don’t have time to list off all the issues I have with AI, and I’m not sure the nurse would care. I also have this pesky issue of a chronic illness which means my periods resemble Niagara Falls, cramps often leave me immobile and they are irregular (which basically means they show up whenever they feel like it and last from anywhere between 3-8 days): fun for me! So how can I ensure I book a time I’m not bleeding? I track my periods so I have general idea when I should roughly start bleeding- but I’m often early or late, rarely am I on time. And if there isn’t an appointment available then, what do I do?
I leave the appointment having re-arranged for a few weeks later when I should be blood free (fingers crossed). But I feel angry, deflated, exhausted and emotional. I have just had to defend why I didn’t know, why I wouldn’t use AI and how I am supposed to book appointments on a system which is based on the assumption that women have regular periods. Oh how little still appears to be known about women’s bodies. Or is this it is known and it is deliberately ignored? Either way, I’ll add it to my tally of b*****it medical experiences where my body is the issue, rather than the system and assumptions made which leave women on the fringes of proper medical care.
I have since done some deeper digging: the NHS web page does have information about bleeding and pregnancy: https://www.nhs.uk/tests-and-treatments/cervical-screening/how-to-book/
So not knowing is on me- although why this wasn’t included in the link sent from the Drs when booking I don’t know. Also, as a 25 year old new to the joys of a smear test, why would you be thinking about this? I overthink and was basically panicking about remembering to take the tampon out if required (forgetting you have a tampon in has quite serious consequences- and is something I frequently struggle with due to the sheer number I go through). Feels like pretty essential information. Also, appointments months away, on the assumption that women track or are regular with their bleeding is such a ridiculous approach. I mean, there is a significant possibility myself (and others) will be in a consistent cycle (unlike their periods) of booking and then re-arranging appointments until finally their menstrual cycles align with the NHS calendar… and by then months or years could have passed with the possibility of dire consequences. So…guess it’s just a regular day at the office then for women and healthcare…
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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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JAY-Z’s Reasonable Doubt at Thirty
Today I’m talking about all things Jay Z. Reasonable Doubt, his debut album, turned thirty on the 25th of June, and Roc Nation has spent the last week or so turning New York into one long tribute to it. Pop ups in Dumbo, a takeover of the old Bowery subway station, a limited-edition of JAŸ-Z30 library card to celebrate the album. As most of you do know that hip hop is one of the things I love outside of work, and that for me, it starts and ends with Tupac and Biggie, the two greatest to ever do it, full stop.
I can see my Gen Z students rolling their eyes before I’ve even finished the sentence, waiting to jump in with Drake or Kendrick Lamar again. Not being funny, but some things aren’t up for debate, Jay Z sits just below Biggie & Pac for me, and Reasonable Doubt is the reason why.
One of the nicest gifts I’ve ever had came from my friend Steph. She knew how much I love hip hop, so she got me the big book of Hip Hop. It’s not the sort of book you finish, really. You dip in and out of it, and there’s always something in there you missed the last time round. Evergreen, that one.
Unsurprisingly, while writing this piece I found myself back in the chapter on Jay-Z and Roc-A-Fella Records. Reading it again reminded me just how extraordinary their story really was. How broke Jay Z, Dame Dash and Kareem Burke actually were when they started Roc-A-Fella, pressing up their own vinyl out the boot of a car because no major record company would touch them, the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn, and all that jazz puts the whole album in a different light.
As someone who has spent much of his career studying crime, what has always fascinated me about the album is its honesty. Drug dealing is just the surface of it. Underneath is ambition, blocked opportunity, status, loyalty, and the sort of decisions people end up making when the straight road looks shut before they’ve even tried it.
Reasonable Doubt only got to number 23 on the Billboard 200 when it came out in 1996. Eighteen weeks on the chart, nothing spectacular by the standards of the time. It took years for people to properly understand what he’d made. And what he made, honestly, is one of the smartest debut albums hip hop has ever produced. The title alone shows you that. He’s borrowing the standard a magistrate/judge needs before it can sentence someone, and turning the whole record into his own defence, his own case file, laid out track by track. People often praise his lyricism, but I sometimes think that undersells what makes him extraordinary.
- Plenty of rappers can rhyme. Jay constructs worlds. His writing is economical without ever feeling sparse. His metaphors unfold over multiple listens. His double and triple entendres have become the stuff of legend.
He could say more in sixteen bars than most artists manage in an entire album.
The features on that record still give me chills. Biggie turns up on Brooklyn’s Finest and it’s one of the great meetings of two people who both knew, somehow, that they were about to become big. Mary J Blige carries the hook on Can’t Knock the Hustle. Jaz O, Jay Z’s old mentor from the Marcy projects, shows up on Bring It On, which is its own quiet piece of history given how that relationship eventually soured. None of it sounds like a young artist borrowing credibility from bigger names. It sounds like a scene, people who’d known each other before any of them had a record deal.
Nobody was meant to get this record straight away. It took the slow route, the way things do when they turn out to be right rather than just popular for a minute. People are still reaching for it thirty years on, and that’s not nostalgia talking. It’s just that the story it tells about ambition and consequence hasn’t gone stale.
So yes, my Gen Z criminology students can keep trying to convince me that someone else deserves the title of greatest rapper alive.
Cool bro!
Then I’ll go home, pull Steph’s gift from the shelf, put on Reasonable Doubt, and remind myself why Jay-Z is, in my opinion, the greatest to ever pick up a mic who’s still with us.
And no… I’m still not getting into the Dr Dre and Rakim argument today, so go away.
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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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A treasure found in a Library…
Back in May, during the assessment period, where campus, whilst still abuzz, had begun to quiet down, I walked through the library looking for some print sources for some summer reading and preparation for the next academic year. The Library at UON, for those who are unfamiliar, is situated on the second floor of the Learning Hub. On this particular Wednesday, sunlight was beaming in through the glass sides, and the books shone in a magical light. The gentle buzz of students studying/revising, the sunshine warming the shelves, the books glistening away… it was quite a lovely moment. And as I stopped to reflect on the beauty of the library in that moment, my eye caught one book in particular. Raising Hare by Chloe Dalton.
Those of you who have read previous blogs, might remember that my partner and I had 2 house bunnies for almost 11 years (RIP Snuggles and Toffee). And because of these two precious little fluff balls, we adored all things bunny rabbit (mugs, pictures, pens, cushions, glasses, clothes, towels… the list goes on). Dalton’s (2024) Raising Hare, has on the front cover a side profile of a Hare. Now whilst very different to a bunny (especially a domestic one like our two fluff balls), the long ears, sharp eyes and cute button nose are quite similar hence the book stood out. I had no idea what the book would be about, other than presuming a hare – and I was right, and I picked the book purely because on this day the cover stood out. One of the beauties of libraries and books on show: they really do catch the reader’s eye and draw you in. Now, it might just be me, but when a cover catches your eye it sort of feels like the book is speaking to you. Could be a mystical force or just good advertising/publishing: either way it worked a treat this time around!
Rasing Hare is a book which takes place during Lockdown where a woman who works very long hours in the hustle and bustle of London, goes back to her remote home in the countryside (surrounded by fields, wildlife and tranquillity) and awaits the country attempting to return to ‘normal’. On one of her walks, during a harsh winter evening she stumbles across a leveret (baby hare), and she takes the leveret home to feed and shelter it. What follows is a beautiful story of mistakes, honesty, respect and wonder at the natural world. The book is based on real-events, and the reflection offered throughout is a thought-provoking account of how humans presume they rule the world (we really are quite an entitled species in the grand scheme of things). Dalton (2024) doesn’t state this, this is simply my reflection having read and learned about hares, their habits, skills and the predators (including humans) they have to out manoeuvre in order to survive quite a hazardous life. The book was charming and I learned a lot about hares, but also about how I take nature (plants and animals) for granted, and often do not consider my impact on the world outside of the human species.
I guess, this blog is a recommendation to read Dalton’s (2024) Raising Hare, but also a thank you to the Library Staff at UON for placing the book so perfectly that it caught my eye. It was very different to what I would usually read, but it has really made me stop and think. I wonder if it will do the same for others….
Reference:
Dalton, C. (2024) Raising Hare. Edinburgh: Canongate Books ltd
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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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A head full of AI free magic
It’s been an interesting few weeks discussing ethics and professionalism with my students, well those that turn up, but that’s a different debate, albeit I guess, in a way linked to the essence of this blog. As usual, my head is full of what a former colleague would describe as ‘magic’. Lots of different seemingly daft ideas, formulated into some narrative that makes sense to me but is difficult to convey to the rest of the world. The latter I’m sure is not peculiar to me, it happens to most people when they have to start writing something, some call it writers’ block, I just call it searching for the starting point. The daft ideas though, I proudly claim as my own. And that is why so often I end up writing a load of ‘stuff’ and then deleting it or at least some of it. In writing, I’m aided by some spell checker built into the software that I’m using and suggestions, also built into the software, about grammar and sentence construction. The latter often hinders rather than anything else, ‘no I do not want to revise the sentence to be more succinct. Your succinctness makes no sense to me and does not convey what I want to say’. A bit of a ramble so far I know, but I’m not going to change it because I want to convey the head full of ‘magic’ phenomenon (those of you that can remember it, can now sing the little ditty that will stick in your head for the rest of the day) and the writing process. You no doubt will have noticed, well those of you that still have a pulse and the will to live, I have made no mention of AI. No use of AI to convey my head full of ‘magic’ ideas, no use of AI to help me start writing. Why, well let me put it to you very succinctly, these are my ideas, it’s my head full of ‘magic’. It does not belong to some machine, whatever appears on this screen, whilst I am writing, is mine and mine alone. I cannot imagine a time when I will be so devoid of thought, ideas, creativity or ability, that I will resort to asking a machine to provide me with the answer or the output. What would the answer look like if I did? Some verbose monologue that is boring, has little or no substance, is devoid of meaning and in the case of academic work, if this were such, is supported by pseudo or obscure, tentatively subject linked, or even fictitious, references. Verbal diarrhoea on screen. If you want evidence of this, ask any discerning academic about more recent student essays. I say discerning for good reason, a reason that I hope to make apparent in a short while.
Let me digress just a little. Recently in the news there has been momentum around the use of mobile phones by young people, or more to the point, what some will say is misuse of phones. Or, the more cynical and critical amongst us might say the abuse of young people by multinational tech giants. There to make money, tech companies have used algorithms, heuristics and goodness knows what to ensure young people are hooked on social media. To their credit, they have also invested vast sums of money trying to limit online abuse and harmful content. But let’s be honest, it’s like farting and then running around with some aerosol to try to cover up the smell. It still stinks but the air is a little better in a few places. Society and government are waking up to the harm caused by the use of technology by young people in this context and we have seen some countries introduce an outright ban on use by under 16s. Something being mooted in this country. Some schools have banned the use of phones in the classroom and as a consequence have seen youngsters returning to healthier past times like playing football or chatting, and of course misbehaving. I would suggest that we have been well behind the curve when it comes to realisation of the harm that is being caused to young people. As parents, we have even colluded in it, albeit more often than not, unwittingly. Those in education systems have probably done the same. But this seemed to creep up on society almost organically, fertilised by businesses whose raison d’être is to make money regardless of cost to humanity. Although they have always dressed it up as progress and of benefit to individuals and society at large. The emperor’s new clothes comes to mind.
But what of AI? There seems to be a clamour by government that as a country we need to jump on the AI bandwagon. AI is being foisted upon us, much the same as social media and the internet has been, by tech companies. We are being told the next generation will need to be AI savvy. But what does that mean? Whilst all of this is going on, there is growing research showing that AI is crippling people’s cognitive abilities. That AI will stop us from being able to analyse and be critical ourselves. Technology does this. Think about spelling, no longer do you need to worry about spelling because it is done for you, grammar, pretty much the same. No need to calculate things in your head, you can use a calculator, no need to remember phone numbers, they are all in your mobile phone, no need think up ideas, AI will do that for you, no need to read, AI will summarise it for you, no need, just no need. I am human but I have no need to think for myself.
And yet, armed with this knowledge individuals in educational institutions plough headlong into promoting AI to their students. This can help you find sources, this can help you when you are devoid of ideas, this can help you make your work better, this can help you …. Stop thinking for yourself. I and most of my colleagues are able to think for ourselves because we have grown up having to. I know what I know now, which as an aside is very little, because I have had to think for myself, work things out for myself. Along the way I have been aided by all sorts of people in all walks of life, but I am who I am because I can think for myself. But educational establishments these days concern themselves almost psychopathically with student numbers, finance and results. There seems to be little understanding of what education really means or for that matter, little concern. Institutional reputations are upheld at all costs, individual reputations forged on sycophantic behaviours with little regard to the impact on students or colleagues. Within this, institutions, driven by government and more importantly business rhetoric make AI central to their vision, their mission.
I wonder whether in a few years’ time there will be an inquiry somewhere, that suggests we have deprived a whole generation of the joy of being human. I wonder whether someone will say those individuals and institutions that so frivolously dabbled with AI, using students in a social experiment, were quite simply morally bankrupt in their drive to further their own ends. And at least some of my students know what Immanuel Kant would say about that!
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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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Self-Care: A Criminologist’s Confession
Let me be upfront, I study crime for a living. I am not a wellness guru. I do not own a journal with an inspirational quote on the cover and I have never once made a green smoothie by choice. So if you were expecting expert advice, I apologise. What I do have is a recently sustained injury, a pair of retired running shoes (not the picture above!), and something to say about all of it.
Back in November, I got injured during a light gym sesh. Nothing dramatic, no heroic story involving a marathon finish line or a training montage. My body simply decided it had opinions, and I had to stop running. For someone who uses running to decompress, that was not ideal. Turns out when you take away the one thing that clears your head, your head gets quite crowded.
Now, before I go any further, I need to take a moment to salute my old running shoes, ASICS Gel. It was fire! Two years of loyalty, two years of 6am starts, two years of rain, wind and whatever else the British weather threw at us, two years of bad days turned around, two years of grinding when the motivation was nowhere to be found. Never complained. Never let me down. Absolute workhorse!!. Round of applause for these guys. Rest well.
I did want to include a photo as a tribute. My wife looked at it this morning and said, “nah, that’s ugly, delete it.” So. No photo. The shoes deserved better and apparently so do you.
In their place, there is a new sheriff in town as you can see up there. Fresh out of the box, and performing very well so far. No complaints. High hopes. ASICS, run me my influencer cheque quick!!!!
Getting back into running after time off is humbling. Your lungs have apparently moved on with their lives. Your legs remember nothing. But we are getting there, slowly, steadily, without any illusions of grandeur. Some days are better than others. The weather has not always helped, although getting better.
But then, getting back to it, however slowly, has reminded me how much I had let self-care slide. It is easy to do. Life gets busy, work piles up, and suddenly taking care of yourself feels like one more thing on the to-do list.
So, from one person who is very much a work in progress: take care of yourselves. Whatever that looks like for you. It does not have to be running. It does not have to be anything impressive. It just has to be something.
I’ll be back with an update on how the new ones are getting on. Fingers crossed they have what it takes to fill those shoes. Literally.
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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/
