The following blog provides the full text of my plenary presentation at the recent Social Movement, Resistance and Social Change conference held at Massey University, Albany Campus, Auckland 6-8 September 2017
Introduction
At the beginning of the 20th century,
the African American scholar and researcher, Du Bois stated that the most significant problem that the
fledgling social sciences would have to contend with throughout the coming
century was the colour-line. By the
term colour-line, Du Bois was referring to the state of relations between white
and black, between Black American’s and the institutions that support white privilege
and white supremacy, including the criminal justice system. Du Bois’ statement was not simply an attempt
at far-sighted prediction, but a call to arms for social scientists and
researchers to focus their collective efforts on the continued subjugation of
Black Americans in the U.S. One could
argue that a similar focus was necessary in the Settler-Colonial jurisdictions
of New Zealand and Australia, herein referred to as ‘Australasia’.
Now let us leap forward in time, to 2010, where
we find the Nigerian criminologist Biko Agozino, forcefully arguing that the
discipline of criminology is a control
freak, a white privilege-dominated social control fanatic whose
epistemological foundations were laid during the colonialisation of Africa,
North America and the Pacific, a history that provides the basis for understanding
the disciplines continued role in Indigenous subjugation. It will
come as no surprise to some of you to hear me say that I am in total agreement
with Biko on this issue, as the discipline has long approached Indigenous peoples as problem populations in need of significant
social management through:
- targeted surveillance (especially through racialised policing);
- geographical containment (in reservations and boarding schools to begin with, and of late via the prison industrial complex of late modernity); and
- ‘correction’ through a liberal dose of the gift of western knowledge, usually in the form of psycho-therapeutic programmes and other, similar Eurocentric interventions.
I
have two objectives today: Firstly: to reveal the colonial foundations of the
discipline of criminology, a fact, a ‘happening’ about which most of its
disciples appear ignorant of, or choose the comfort of collective amnesia, a
convenient forgetfulness that allows them to portray themselves as ‘objective’
commentators on the Indigenous issues. Secondly:
I will argue that the discipline of criminology has indeed become a control freak,
with many of its adherents working tirelessly, and with prejudice to protect
their hegemony over the production of what their key sponsor, the settler-colonial
state defines as ‘legitimate knowledge’
about crime and crime control, most especially in relation to the ‘Indigenous
problem’. I will endeavour to reveal the
disciplines control freak tendencies by employing Agamben’s theory of the State of Exception to critically analyse
the role the discipline of criminology plays in this process, with reference to
what I call the Three Pillars of
Exception and Exclusion in Australasian Criminology. But first I want to
make some comments about the colonial foundations of the discipline of
criminology.
A Comment
on the Colonial Foundations of Criminology
It is a well-worn refrain of historians, and some social scientists,
that in order to understand the present you need to understand the past. And so it is with attempting to ‘know’ why a
community of scholars, in this case criminologists, conduct themselves in
certain ways today. Harry Blagg, Biko
Agozino, Chris Cunneen, amongst others, have drawn attention to the historical
connections between the development of criminology and criminal justice in the and 19th and early 20th
century centuries, and the inter-related projects of colonialism and Western imperialism. And yet, despite all this critical analysis, Australasian
criminologists generally operate without a theory of colonialism and its
effects on Indigenous peoples, most especially the not
insignificant, growing group of non-Indigenous criminologists specialising
in what they call ‘Indigenous justice’.
Biko Agozino, in his 2003 book Counter
Colonial Criminology: A Critique of Imperialist Reason, demonstrates how
the developing disciplines of criminology and psychology trialled their
theories and related social and control policies and interventions, on the
dispossessed and suppressed First Peoples of Africa, before taking what they
learnt and refining them for use on the social damned of Europe, the poor, the
travellers, Jewish communities, to name but a few. The lack of awareness of, or willingness to confront
its colonial past, is a fundamental weakness of neoliberal ‘mainstream’
criminology; a weakness that makes many of its adherents blind to the
intersectional drivers of contemporary Indigenous over-representation.
Especially concerning for those of us working in the field of
Indigenous justice, is that ‘Western’ criminology appears to be largely immune
to the pleadings of Agozino, Cunneen and others, that it extricate itself from yet
another related blind spot that many of its adherents suffer from; namely its
role as a Colonial Project that supports the Settler-Colonial states
continued subjugation of Indigenous people. As the saying goes, people who ignore the lessons of the past are bound
to repeat them. Although of course, that
refrain is predicated on a belief that people in general and the Settler-Colonial
state and white privileged criminologists specifically, are capable of recognising that their failed policies, legislation, interventions, even theories, as ‘mistakes’, as being the cause, partial or wholly, of social injustice, dispossession,
social exclusion, and genocide. I
contend that deep down, in their quiet, contemplative moments, many
Australasian criminologists are well aware that they and their discipline ‘wear no clothes’. I also believe that upon focused, critical
self-reflection, their complicity in the subjugation of Indigenous people, is,
or will be exposed, which is probably why most of them show an aversion to
researching it, acknowledging it, or attempt to understand it.
This now brings me to the last part of my presentation; the exposure
of the rapacious, prejudiced and subjugating tendencies of Australasian criminology; a discipline, as I pointed out earlier, that is very much in the service of the Settler-Colonial
state.
The Three
Pillars of Exception and Exclusion in Australasian Criminology
What is now apparent is the capacity of contemporary criminology, in
partnership with the Settler-Colonial state to blatantly sideline and silence Indigenous
peoples. It is most especially skilled in silencing our experiences of contemporary crime control, and pushing genocidal crime control policies, legislation and interventions upon us,
despite overwhelming evidence of their failure, by any measure, to reduce
recidivism, or make our communities safer.
I contend that this places us in a state of exception to mainstream
criminology and given, their parasitic relationship, to the Settler-Colonial states of New Zealand and Australia. Tactics of active exclusion can be purposely formed,
as in having a clearly stated intention to exclude, such as the Northern Territory
Emergency Response that was introduced by the Howard government in 2007. Or, it can be
subtle, with intentions hidden among the meaningless rhetoric employed by the
professional academic concerned to protect their social justice credentials. Exceptional measures of exclusion permeate
the discipline of criminology’s relationship with Indigenous peoples; and why
would they not, given the historical development of the discipline and its
relationship with the state.
My argument that we are in a ‘state of exception’ to Settler-Colonial
criminology comes from Agamben’s theory of the same, a process whereby the
modern democratic state exclude certain groups from the space within which the
advantages of citizenship, including human rights, are present. Furthermore, those in the state of exception, thus excluded, receive the legitimate
forms of violence available to the modern democratic state – including I would
argue, the violence that is the criminal justice system.
This violence manifests in many forms: social, political, economic and
(not always but sometimes) geographic exclusions, denial of citizenship rights,
refusal to engage with people in order to meaningfully include their
perspectives and experience in the development of policy and initiatives, the
homogenisation and stereotyping of individuals, and at times entire communities. Other manifestations include the development of policies for them as a separate group based on Eurocentric
formulations, wielded upon the bodies of Indigenous peoples by agents of the
sovereign state.
Hold a mirror up to academic, Australasian criminology and you will
see many, if not all of these strategies deployed by many of its practitioners against
Indigenous peoples. It is my contention
that criminology, as a Colonial Project in support of the Settler-Colonial
state, has throughout its history created Indigenous peoples as a problem
population, a criminalised population, in need of significant surveillance and
control. We are, for all intent and
purposes, placed in a state of exception, ear-marked for exclusion, and by that
I mean excluded from meaningful input into the policy context by both the policy industry and the criminologists that further their careers by sucking on the funding teat of the state.
Many of us excluded from the mainstream, and from the development of criminological knowledge because of the colours we choose to wear, because we belong to hard-to-reach communities (as Harry Tam refers to them, or 'gangs' in the policy and criminological lexicon), communities that many Australasian criminologists talk about, without ever having engaged with them. We are also excluded by dent of our significant involvement in the criminal justice system, and other social suppression processes such as child care and protection; governmental processes that criminologist played significant roles in developing.
Our state of exception does not manifest through the amount of attention we receive from the either criminology or the institutions of crime control, but because of the nature and form of the surveillance and the absence of meaningful, respectful and empowering engagement. Because of our ‘state of exception’ the same rules that govern respectful dialogue and engagement with say the white middle class, are not extended to us - hardly surprising given that the vast majority of Australasian criminologists are white and middle class. We are exceptional in that crime control practitioners and white privileged criminologists do not see the need to conduct themselves ethically and respectfully towards us, as they would their own. And yet while they claim to specialise in Indigenous justice, few bother to even try to develop policies and interventions that support Indigenous self-determination.
This now brings me to a discussion of the three pillars of exception and exclusion within Australasian criminology:
Many of us excluded from the mainstream, and from the development of criminological knowledge because of the colours we choose to wear, because we belong to hard-to-reach communities (as Harry Tam refers to them, or 'gangs' in the policy and criminological lexicon), communities that many Australasian criminologists talk about, without ever having engaged with them. We are also excluded by dent of our significant involvement in the criminal justice system, and other social suppression processes such as child care and protection; governmental processes that criminologist played significant roles in developing.
Our state of exception does not manifest through the amount of attention we receive from the either criminology or the institutions of crime control, but because of the nature and form of the surveillance and the absence of meaningful, respectful and empowering engagement. Because of our ‘state of exception’ the same rules that govern respectful dialogue and engagement with say the white middle class, are not extended to us - hardly surprising given that the vast majority of Australasian criminologists are white and middle class. We are exceptional in that crime control practitioners and white privileged criminologists do not see the need to conduct themselves ethically and respectfully towards us, as they would their own. And yet while they claim to specialise in Indigenous justice, few bother to even try to develop policies and interventions that support Indigenous self-determination.
This now brings me to a discussion of the three pillars of exception and exclusion within Australasian criminology:
The First Pillar: The Lack of Respect and Regard for Indigenous Ways
of Being
Many of the disciplines’ practitioners work tirelessly to silence the
Indigenous experience, and the Indigenous critique, both of the discipline, and
of the partner to which it has a parasitic relationship, the criminal justice
system. I will go further and argue that
the silencing of the Indigenous voice is a prerequisite for gaining entry into
the policy and legislative functions of neo-liberal government. If you want a seat at the table and for your
research to be accepted as valid, the experiences of the subjugated, those who
are critical of government performance most especially, or who have or are
resisting state hegemony, must either be expunged, or at the very least
modulated to the point that the lived experience of bias, racism and
subjugation is rendered mute. Replaced instead with facile, meaningless research summaries
drawn from glorified, state-sanctioned customer satisfaction surveys.
If we had more time we could
fill a whole plenary session with a discussion of the methods criminologists
employs to ‘know us’, and what they consider to be valid forms of knowledge
construction and dissemination. In the Indigenous context, all too often
criminologists conduct research on Indigenous issues while proselytising from
afar, utilising, for example, highly structured surveys, statistical modelling,
and such like, whilst rarely (sometimes never) descending into the Indigenous
space to engage with us face-to-face.
The Second Pillar: The Banality of Academic
Criminological Racism and Bias
In a thought-provoking piece on
the support her discipline gave to the colonial context, Wendy James referred
to anthropologists as ‘reluctant imperialists’, meaning that their support for
the colonising enterprise was largely unplanned or unintentional. Arguably, in seeking to ‘do good’ by Indigenous
peoples, anthropologists inadvertently provided empirical support to the
colonial enterprise of dispossession.
I am reluctant to offer many criminologists the same benefit of the doubt: for example, what are we to make of the continued control-freak tendencies of Australasian criminology, especially its more authoritarian adaptations? Far too often the criminological focus remains on the individual native; an individual divorced from their social, historical and structural context, as is often the case in the work of adherents who dismiss the validity of Indigenous forms of knowledge. For an example of this bias, let us contemplate for a moment how it came to be that Don Weatherburn, in a book on Aboriginal imprisonment published in 2014, felt empowered enough to argue that all we needed to know about crime, we could receive from Western science, and by inference that Indigenous ‘knowledge’ has little to offer for an understanding of social harm.
This type of action cannot, should not be easily dismissed as 'accidental', unintentional incidents of cultural imperialism ala James’ defence of anthropology. And Weatherburn’s attitude is one that is commonly held by white privileged, Australasian criminologists. It is in my experience common place; it is insidious, and it is a reflection of the casual nature of the cultural imperialism that exists in the criminological academy in both jurisdictions.
I am reluctant to offer many criminologists the same benefit of the doubt: for example, what are we to make of the continued control-freak tendencies of Australasian criminology, especially its more authoritarian adaptations? Far too often the criminological focus remains on the individual native; an individual divorced from their social, historical and structural context, as is often the case in the work of adherents who dismiss the validity of Indigenous forms of knowledge. For an example of this bias, let us contemplate for a moment how it came to be that Don Weatherburn, in a book on Aboriginal imprisonment published in 2014, felt empowered enough to argue that all we needed to know about crime, we could receive from Western science, and by inference that Indigenous ‘knowledge’ has little to offer for an understanding of social harm.
This type of action cannot, should not be easily dismissed as 'accidental', unintentional incidents of cultural imperialism ala James’ defence of anthropology. And Weatherburn’s attitude is one that is commonly held by white privileged, Australasian criminologists. It is in my experience common place; it is insidious, and it is a reflection of the casual nature of the cultural imperialism that exists in the criminological academy in both jurisdictions.
The Third Pillar: The
Criminalisation of Indigenous Women, Men and Culture
One often
repeated claim is that the criminological attention has moved too far from individual
‘pathology’, to the crime control institutions of the Settler-Colonial state,
and the effects of colonial and neo-colonial policy. As a result, this shift in analysis has resulted
in ineffective policies and interventions for reducing Indigenous
over-representation. The recommended
solution should come as no surprise: we must return the criminological gaze firmly back to the much neglected
Aboriginal, pathological individual, dysfunctional family unit, and for the
likes of Don Weatherburn in Australia, and here in the New Zealand context, that
well-researched expert on the Maori condition, Greg Newbold, firmly back to the criminalising cultures of the Aboriginal peoples and Maori people. Similarly, Danette Marie, in her commentary
on the New Zealand situation published in a special edition of the Australian New Zealand Journal of
Criminology in 2010, blames the inability of the justice system to solve
the ‘Indigenous problem,’ on ‘critical liberals’ like myself, whose efforts
have apparently ‘not led to more effective measures of crime control within
Indigenous communities or to sustained reductions in the rate of criminalisation
and incarceration’.
Now, one
would suppose from this description of Indigenous experiences of Australasian
crime control that suddenly prisons were empty and police no longer patrolled
Indigenous communities incessantly. You
could easily form the impression that Aboriginal/Maori offenders are diverted
into adjudication processes dominated by Indigenous peoples, that they receive
predominantly non-custodial forms of punishment when sentenced, and if they
receive such a sentence, end up serving their sentence in a ‘Indigenous
cultural unit’ or in a half-way house. And of course, upon release return to communities that have benefited
from the extensive infrastructural, social and economic investment by
government. Of course, this is not the
situation at all. Yes, unquestionably the actions of the ‘legal-welfare establishment’ has led to the introduction of
a range of diversionary policies and strategies, and the introduction of
restorative-centred justice processes, Aboriginal Liaison Officers, Iwi Liaison
Officers, prison-based cultural units like the Maori Focus Units in New
Zealand, and so forth. Yet, despite all
of this activity, the impression given by Marie and Weatherburn of the
‘failure’ of liberal policy discourse and the critical focus on structure and institutions
is a gross exaggeration. At no time
during the period in which Indigenous over-representation has been a
significant issue for the Policy Industry (around the early 1980s in both Australia
and New Zealand), has the liberal perspective dominated crime control policy in
either jurisdiction. Furthermore, if we
accept the alternative argument, that in fact the vast majority of crime
control spend in Australia and New Zealand since 1980 has been on imported
crime control policies and interventions, and not on Indigenous-inspired ones,
then where is the evidence that the western, scientific response to the Indigenous
problem has significantly reduced Indigenous over-representation, or made us
better, or safer?
