The Future of Crime
: A Glimpse into Tomorrow's Justice System
The year is 2034. You've committed no crime, felt no urge to, yet a government algorithm has flagged you: 'Lombroso Positive.' Your fate? Indefinite detention. Fiction? Adrian Raine says it's closer than you think, and the implications are already clawing at the edges of our reality.
The chilling prospect of a world where crime is predicted before it occurs, and individuals are detained not for what they have done, but for what they might do, might sound like the stuff of dystopian fiction (Minority Report's Pre-Crime). Yet, as neurocriminological research advances at a startling pace, the ethical battleground between societal safety and individual liberty intensifies. Adrian Raine’s provocative Chapter 11, "The Future," from his seminal work The Anatomy of Violence, forces us to confront this unsettling reality, proposing scenarios that are as alarming as they are, in parts, already plausible.
Raine, a figure whose intellectual tenacity has often placed him at odds with conventional wisdom, posits that the traditional paradigms of retributive justice are failing us. He argues for a compassionate, health-based model of intervention, viewing repeated violence as a clinical disorder with neurodevelopmental and genetic underpinnings. This isn't a call for unbridled authoritarianism, but a stark warning: ignore the nuances of biosocial research, and society risks sliding into simplistic, heavy-handed solutions that would make even the most hardened civil liberties advocate wince.
The journey into this unnerving future begins with a retrospective glance at the tragic case of Kip Kinkel. A teenager wracked by depression, obsessed with weapons, and exhibiting clear signs of paranoid schizophrenia, Kinkel’s brain scans revealed significant dysfunction in his prefrontal cortex. Despite compelling evidence of severe mental illness, the judiciary's verdict of 111 years without parole prioritised societal protection and individual responsibility over rehabilitation. This, Raine argues, is a missed opportunity, a failure to ask the crucial "What if?" – what if Kinkel’s violent potential had been identified and addressed before the killings?
From this real-world tragedy, Raine constructs three hypothetical scenarios that, though fictional, resonate with an unsettling echo of current societal anxieties and technological trends.
The "LOMBROSO Program": Predictive Justice in 2034
Picture 2034. Crime rates are soaring, clearance rates plummeting, and prisons are overflowing. A "tinderbox crime" – a mentally ill parolee murdering the US Attorney General's daughter – ignites public fury, paving the way for the radical "LOMBROSO Program."
This isn't your grandad's policing. Every male aged 18 and over, by government decree, undergoes mandatory brain scans and DNA testing, scrutinising what Raine calls the "Fundamental Five Functions" of the brain. This neurobiological data is then fused with existing medical, school, and social records, creating a comprehensive biosocial tapestry. Advanced machine learning algorithms – the digital seers of this new age – then spit out probabilities: a 79% chance of serious violence, a 51% chance of homicide for certain demographics.
Individuals deemed a risk receive a "Lombroso Positive" (LP) designation: LP-V for violence, LP-S for sex, LP-H for homicide. Their fate? Indefinite detention in secure, yet paradoxically humane, facilities. No traditional prisons here; these are centres designed for "treatment," not punishment, offering education, recreation, and communication. Annual reassessments provide a glimmer of hope for reclassification or release, contingent on observed behavioural and epigenetic shifts.
The treatment regimen is equally Orwellian in its ambition: deep-brain stimulation, transcranial magnetic stimulation, next-generation pharmaceuticals, sophisticated nutritional programs, and mindfulness biofeedback. A "Lombroso Part-Positive" (LP-P) status, a truly chilling detail, designates individuals for heightened surveillance, effectively rendering them pre-suspects.
Initial protests over civil liberties are, to Raine's credit, swiftly neutralised by the cold, hard facts: scientific validation, colossal financial savings, and the surprising revelation that a smaller proportion of minorities are detained compared to the traditional, racially biased justice system. A chilling pragmatism triumphs over principle.
The National Child Screening Program (NCSP): Catching the Future Offender at Ten
Building on LOMBROSO's 'success', 2040 sees the launch of the "National Child Screening Program." The new mantra: "It's never too early to stop the rot." All ten-year-olds undergo mandatory evaluations encompassing medical, psychological, social, and behavioural assessments, including a "violence potential" screening.
Parents are informed of their child's statistical risk – a 48% chance of serious violence, a 14% chance of homicide. Initially, opt-in treatment for "red zone" children soon becomes mandatory after high-profile cases of violence by children whose parents rejected intervention. The state, invoking its right "in loco parentis," steps in. The programme, with a disturbing logic, even extends to mandatory screening of biological fathers identified through the NCSP. This marks a profound, and frankly terrifying, ethical slippage.
Parental Licensing: The Ultimate State Intervention in 2049
The most controversial proposal emerges in 2049: Parental Licensing. If driving requires a license, why not parenting, given its profound impact on a child's life and societal well-being? This avant-garde idea, initially a "minority report" by neurocriminologists, argues that poor parenting is a causal factor in violence.
Citizens must demonstrate theoretical and practical proficiency in child-rearing. Parenting skills are integrated into the school curriculum from an early age. Unlicensed parents face the grim prospect of their children being removed to foster care, with crash courses offered to regain custody. DNA banks are used to track biological fathers, necessitating their own licensing.
Unsurprisingly, civil liberties advocates scream "eugenics!" and "human rights violation!" Yet, proponents highlight the benefits: reduced child abuse, improved parenting skills, and declining juvenile delinquency. The "Parental License Act" passes.
Could This Happen? Should This Happen?
Raine then cuts through the speculative gauze, asking the crucial questions: "Could this happen? Should this happen?" He argues that elements of these chilling hypotheticals are already manifest. Guantánamo Bay and the UK's Imprisonment for Public Protection (IPP) attest to society's willingness to detain individuals based on perceived future dangerousness. Predictive policing is already a reality. Early screening programs for developmental issues are precursors to the NCSP. Tragic events, historically, have often spurred rapid and frequently ill-considered legislative responses. The political will, Raine suggests, is often just a tragedy away.
The "should this happen?" question is where the moral rubber meets the road. It pits the utilitarian imperative of protecting society against the fundamental tenets of individual autonomy and freedom. Chakrabarti, for example, would argue vociferously against any pre-emptive intervention, citing the inviolable sanctity of liberal democracy. Raine, however, challenges this absolute stance with the "Hitler dilemma": if we could identify a nascent Hitler at an early age without the possibility of error, would we intervene? It's a brutal thought experiment designed to expose the fragility of rigid ethical boundaries.
Raine insists on a "sliding scale" and a "balance" between risks and benefits, pointing out that the status quo – high crime rates, the "passive eugenics" of denying prisoners reproductive rights – also carries profound societal costs. He provocatively suggests that these future programs, while authoritarian, could paradoxically offer a more humane path to rehabilitation than the current, often punitive, system.
The accusation of "eugenics" is confronted head-on. Raine acknowledges the term's negative connotations but argues that current policies already entail "passive eugenics." The "slippery slope" argument, often deployed to block scientific progress, is dismissed as a "cop-out." Society, Raine asserts, can choose where to stand on the slope; it is not condemned to inevitably slide to its nadir.
An Ostrich or a New Horizon?
Raine's concluding thoughts are both a lament and a rallying cry. He reflects on the historical persecution of neurocriminologists, the intellectual ostracism meted out to those who dare to suggest biological underpinnings for crime. Left and right, he notes, have historically resisted biological explanations, often for entirely different, yet equally unhelpful, reasons.
His central tenet remains unwavering: repeated violent offending is a "clinical disorder" with a neurodevelopmental and genetic basis that can be treated. He expresses optimism that breakthroughs in treating physical diseases, like Gleevec for leukaemia, will inspire similar advancements in treating violence. Precision medicine, targeting faulty proteins, he believes, can stem the tide of crime faster than traditional social programs.
The clarion call is for an open, honest, and calm dialogue between scientists, the public, and policymakers. This is not about accepting every dystopian scenario as inevitable, but about navigating the neuroethical challenges with intelligence and foresight. He challenges readers to examine their own biases, to question whether traditional views are, in fact, mistaken.
Invoking Winston Churchill's humanitarian vision for treating criminals as a test of civilisation, Raine suggests that future generations will look back on our current practices with the same incredulity with which we now view 18th-century mental asylums.
The book closes with a powerful plea: embrace "The Anatomy of Violence" as a critical ingredient for future success in violence prevention. A collaborative biosocial approach, where all sides compromise for the greater good, is the only way forward. Burying our heads in the sand like ostriches, he warns, by neglecting this science, will only perpetuate societal harm. It might be uncomfortable, it might be terrifying, but the future of crime, and indeed of justice, demands our unflinching gaze.
So, as the algorithms compile dossiers and the scans probe our grey matter, ask yourself: when humanity's deepest urges meet technological inevitability, where precisely does freedom end, and the 'greater good' begin? The answer might surprise, and unsettle, you.
Citations
Raine, Adrian. The Anatomy of Violence: The Biological Roots of Crime. Pantheon Books, 2013. (Specifically Chapter 11, "The Future").
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