Criminology in Europe

“The only thing I do not understand is that a lot of them look too old or too young” says Tibor. We started chatting as my Hungarian compatriot was making my coffee in the Pret a Manger in the shopping mall next to St Davis’s Hall. He says he always knows if there is a conference next door because a lot of people are coming into his coffee shop with badges. This week he noticed with some excitement that criminologists were in town. Yet their age did not fit his idea of a criminologist. 

It turns out that Tibor, a consummate TV crime series enthusiast, came away from his binge-watching sessions with the impression that criminologists are the people who rope in from the roof into some bad guy’s apartment, and then proceed to unravel the whole evil conspiracy using a combination of violence, clever hacking techniques, and sophisticated DNA-evidence. I tell him we are doing none of that. “What then?” he inquires. Mostly sitting in front of the computer. No hacking, though, just writing articles. I sense that I have just disappointed him. 

Funny as it is, this is not a condescending story about another person’s unawareness. Quite the opposite. Given the fact that many people get their ideas and impressions about crime as a social phenomenon from television series, movies, and novels, it is rather we, the criminologists, who lack the understanding about the effect of art and entertainment on social imagination of crime. 

This is why the opening lecture by the ESC President, Rossella Selmini, was such a welcome departure from the presidential opening statements at ESC conferences. While it arguably touched upon lighter subjects than most, at its core it tackled a difficult and important issue:  how crime fiction shapes our understanding of crime, and, more importantly, how differences in social structure, political system, and culture shape the representation of crime and criminal justice in art. The same brutal act of violence when set in a gritty Milanese suburb can tell us very different stories about the social embeddedness of crime and violence than one happening in Stockholm. 

The host, Mike Levi, struck a different tone. His reflection on crime and criminology in the UK and beyond was insightful and entertaining (as well as heavy on Shakespeare). 

Another plenary analysed very lucidly the mind-boggling complexity of disentangling criminal justice cooperation between the UK and the EU, and the very real consequences thereof on the political institutions in Europe and the UK, as well as on the everyday operation of criminal justice, even crime. The discussion successfully combined the larger historical perspective on the development of EU institutions and the reflections of high-ranking police officers well-versed in the everyday operation of a large police force.

In the age of Brexit and President Trump one is inclined to sense a foreboding of great historical calamities to come. But maybe it is just a question of perspective. At least this is what the innovative research of the recipient of the ESC Award, Manuel Eisner teaches us. In his plenary address upon receiving the ESC European Criminology Award (printed here in the Newsletter), using a breath-taking scope of data about violence over the centuries, he provided empirical arguments for Elias’s thesis on the inevitable process of civilisation. It might very well be that at the ESC Conference in 2517, data will be presented about how this trend turned in the first half of the 21^st century, yet his data still gives us hope.

Long-time attendees know that balancing between a gala dinner that is festive enough yet accessible to young professionals or generally less well-endowed participants is never easy. Just renting a venue for an event with so many people usually costs a fortune. However modest the price, some will be inevitably excluded. The Board and the succession of organisers have struggled with this problem for many years. The organisers in Cardiff might have found the solution. The beer vouchers for the Tiny Rebel were a brilliant idea. Finally, there was a place to go where everyone gravitated every evening, and we learned again that getting to know each other in a pub with a beer in hand is much easier than while queuing up for coffee at  some cavernous conference venue. We can only hope that future organisers take up this idea and turn it into a tradition. 

Brexit generally loomed large over the conference, providing constant fodder for discussions between session or in the pub afterwards. Any discussion of future projects was overshadowed by the uncertainty about future funding arrangements.  Many European visitors, your editor included, were constantly shifting between denial (nothing has changed just yet), sadness (it will), and indignation (at the British public discourse that, to many, borders on delusional).

The prospect of Brexit was probably even more painful because Cardiff treated us especially well. ESC conferences generally manage to avoid (despite the growing number of participants) the somewhat impersonal and mass production feel of ASC meetings. But Cardiff was extraordinary even among ESC meetings in the community it managed to create. The city certainly played a role: though certainly not the grandest or the most aesthetically pleasing of ESC annual meeting host cities, it was warm, welcoming, and unpretentious. The walks between venues felt like a Saturday shopping stroll back at home. But the real force behind the good mood and relaxed feel were the organisers. Everything was smooth and uncomplicated. Only past organisers know how much work needs to be invested into such a well-run conference, and how little their investment is appreciated. We are thankful to all of them. 

Csaba Győry is assistant professor at the Faculty of Law, ELTE University, and researcher at the Institute for Legal Studies, Hungarian Academy of Sciences, and editor of the Newsletter of the ESC.