By: Mauricio Stegemann Dieter and Renato Rocha

This book introduces the ‘Southern criminology’ movement; explores its theoretical, methodological, and philosophical tools; offers analytical accounts on the development of criminological thoughts in marginalised regions; and showcases the cutting edge of criminological research from Southern settings.

Southernising Criminology is structured into three parts. The first part provides theoretical and methodological insights into how criminology can be Southernised, including renowned social scientists who share concerns for the need to reconceptualise the centre, the periphery, and their relations. The second part brings the reader up-to-date with the state of criminological research in different parts of the world and how far this landscape has changed when introducing Southern perspectives. The third part shows first-hand examples of how Southern criminology is done, with its challenges and transformative potential for criminological knowledge. Bringing together contributions from leading scholars working across the five continents and drawing on issues such as state criminality, violent crime, criminal justice practices, and state and non-state punishment, this book offers a critical 44account of the problems of metropolitan thinking, colonial and imperial power relations, and Western ethnocentric approaches to criminology. It offers a nuanced and grounded reflection on how things are being done differently and why that is important.

An accessible and compelling read, this book will appeal to students and scholars of criminology, sociology, politics, and policy makers from around the world who are interested in the field of criminology and are aware of the urgent need for it to be decolonised and democratised.

Southernising Criminology, April 2024

By Laura I Appleman

Profits have long played a critical role in the administration of punishment in America. This Article provides one of the first full-length historical accounts of how the pursuit of private profits has shaped the American carceral system over time. It argues that deriving profits from punishment has been a crucial and formative aspect of American carcerality since our earliest days. Although most scholars have focused on convict leasing in the postbellum era as the first major example of private prison profiteering, this Article shows how a predatory for-profit system of punishment well predates this, originating in the colonial era. The story of American corrections, fully told, reveals four distinct transformative periods over the nearly five-century evolution of American incarceration, ultimately explaining the condition of today’s carceral state. In addition to providing a broader and more complete historical perspective, this Article also explains how the most recent inroads of privatized, for-profit correctional entities have overtaken the contemporary workings of the carceral system, causing chaos, abuse, and death. The Article details the mechanisms through which seeking profits from incarceration has led to objectively worse conditions and outcomes for the punished. Given the now widespread privatization and corporate takeover of so many aspects of the carceral state, from healthcare to food services and beyond, it is well past time to question the role of “Big Capital.” This Article shines a light on the forgotten history of the American carceral crisis, tracing the role of profits from colonial days to the 21st century.

Forthcoming Maryland Law Review

By Sharon Dolovich

When the state incarcerates, it assumes an affirmative, non-negotiable obligation to keep people in prison safe and to provide for their basic needs. In the United States, the three branches of government—legislative, executive, and judicial—are in theory collectively responsible for making certain that this obligation is fulfilled. In practice, the checks and balances built into the system have failed to ensure even minimally decent carceral conditions. This review maps this regulatory failure. It shows that, in all branches of government, rather than policing prison officials, the relevant institutional actors instead align themselves with the officials they are supposed to regulate, leaving people in custody unprotected and vulnerable to abuse by the very actors sworn to keep them safe. This pattern is no accident. It reflects a palpable normative hostility and contempt toward the incarcerated, an attitude with deep roots in the virulent race hatred endemic to the American carceral project from its earliest days.

Annu. Rev. Criminol. 2022. 5:153–77

By Lee Kovarsky

Before their executions, condemned people suffered intensely, in solitude, and at great length. But that suffering is not punishment—especially not the suffering on American-style death rows. In this article, I show that American institutions administer pre-execution confinement as nonpunitive detention, and I explain the consequences of that counterintuitive status. A nonpunitive paradigm curbs, at least to some degree, the dehumanization, neglect, and isolation that now dominate life on death row. It is also the doctrinal solution to a longstanding puzzle involving confinement, execution, and the Eighth Amendment. To understand why pre-execution confinement is nonpunitive, readers need a basic understanding of the experience itself. Most death-sentenced people will lead lives marked by some substantial combination of inadequate nutrition, deficient health care, substandard sanitation and ventilation, restricted movement, and excessive isolation. By the time the state executes its condemned prisoners, they will have spent about two decades in such conditions—up from two years in 1960. The state distributes suffering across this prisoner cohort in ways that bear little relationship to criminal blameworthiness. Almost without exception, however, scholarship and decisional law continue to treat confinement before execution as punishment. Virtually everyone makes the punitive assumption, but there are two reasons rooted in penal theory why they should not. First, confinement before execution does not meet consensus criteria for punishment. It is instead suffering collateral to the state’s interest in incapacitating those who face execution. Second, if pre-execution confinement were to be taken seriously as a punitive practice, then it would be normatively unjustified. More specifically, punitive confinement would represent punishment beyond the legally specified maximum (an execution), and it would be distributed across the death-sentenced prisoner cohort arbitrarily. There is a well-developed body of constitutional law capable of absorbing a nonpunitive version of pre-execution confinement. Under that law, when the state detains people primarily to incapacitate them, that detention is regulatory—not punitive. Due process, rather than the Eighth Amendment, constrains regulatory detention. A nonpunitive approach would reduce unnecessary suffering because due process rules more stringently constrain the state’s treatment of its prisoners. Such an approach would also give the U.S. Supreme Court better answers to the difficult Eighth Amendment questions that have vexed the Justices for decades. 

Virginia Law Review [Vol. 109:1429, 2023.