Offending Women

Female Lawbreakers and the Criminal Justice System

Anne Worrall

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2002
• ISBN:
  9781134958191
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Medicine
• Subtopic: Medical Theory, Practice & Reference

A useful theoretical analysis of the discourse surrounding women's deviancy. Based on hundreds of interviews with magistrates, solicitors, psychiatrists, probabtion officers, and particularly female lawbreakers themselves this book is key for those studying criminology and women's studies as well as for practitioners.

Chapter One
THEORIZING WOMEN’S EXPERIENCES

Discourse analysis has displaced epistemology.

(Burton and Carlen 1979:15)

This book has two central concerns:

1) Under what conditions do certain people claim to possess knowledge about female law-breakers?

2) What is the process whereby such claims are translated into practices which have particular consequences for female lawbreakers?

In order to ask these questions, it is necessary to adopt a methodology which avoids the pitfalls of conventional epistemology. Epistemology is concerned with how we discover truth. It struggles with distinctions between the natural and the social world, between causes and reasons. It asks whether knowledge is obtained by observing behaviour or understanding action, by accretion or by rational thought It asks whether it is indeed possible for humans to study themselves at all or to have a full and absolute knowledge of themselves. In sum, it is concerned with the demarcation of science from non-science (of truth from falsehood), the relationship between theory and observation, and the conundrum of a knowing subject producing objective knowledge.

As opposed to dealing with questions of truth, however, this study struggles with the relationship between those who claim to know the ‘truth’ and those about whom they claim to know it. It searches for a method of analysis which reaches beyond what is said to be, to an understanding of what informs a particular claimto know. Its search is for the underlying structures whence emanate the rules that authorize such claims ‘to know’. Its aim is to unhitch itself from the collusive search for properties, essences, and unities. Instead it asks, ‘Why is there a need for agents of social control to reconstruct those they seek to control as though they were possessed of essential qualities?’

Starting from the premise that no human action is intrinsically meaningful and that no human being is endowed with pre-given properties or essences which transcend the social system and determine her or his lived experience, it is possible to challenge those idealist forms of knowledge which depend on notions of ‘human nature’. But the rejection of positivistic explanations of human behaviour does not immediately lead away from the traditions of epistemology. Reacting against notions of truth as unchanging and monolithic, the notion of truth as a pluralistic realism is attractive. Truth may be a matter of perspective (Plummer 1979; Rock 1973). It may reside in neither subject nor object but in their interaction. Knowledge may not be the product of a priori reasoning nor may it inhere in the nature of the phenomena themselves. Knowledge may be:

– dialectic, for it is contradictory and uncertain;

– indeterminate, for it is dependent on changing conditions and contexts;

– pluralistic, for it is scattered among the minds of those who ask the questions;

– exploratory, for it cannot be reduced to axioms but is a mosaic built up through exploration.

Knowledge may never be total—it is better described as a process of knowing. Central to this knowing process is the ‘knowing subject’—the ‘self’ that interacts with ‘society’ (Mead 1934). But the emergence of the self is a complex process, in which the acquisition of language is crucial. Through this process of maturing, it is argued, the individual comes to have a sense of herself as a ‘single consistent coherent and organised personality’ (Mead 1934:269) with the power to anticipate, respond to, and influence her social environment.

But the women with whom this study is concerned most certainly did not experience themselves in this holistic and ordered way. On the contrary, they experienced internal conflictand a sense of self which was contradictory, inconsistent, and incoherent. Within this model of understanding, such experiences can only be described as pathological. Such an analysis reduces the problem of interaction to problems of consciousness. Consequently, their resolution lies in the raising of the social consciousness of individuals through increased knowledge of the complexity of human interaction and its consequences. Such an analysis is based on two fallacies: first, that knowledge alone and of itself leads to change and, second, that the ‘self is potentially as powerful as the forces which constitute ‘society’. Underlying those two fallacies is a neglect of issues of power and structure, of the interrelation between consciousness and the material world in which it originates. The internalization of this consensus serves to pathologize internal conflict, rather than to view it as the product of social relations which are themselves products of inequalities of class, race, and gender.

The speaking subject does not have complete freedom to endow her words or her actions with meaning. She is not the centre of meaning or knowledge. Words and actions acquire socially determined meanings which exist independently of the intentions of the particular subjects who use those words or engage in those actions. It may be self-evident that there is nothing intrinsically polite about opening a door for a woman (Culler 1976:92) but any intention on the part of a male subject to ascribe politeness to his action would be futile in an environment where the act itself was assumed to be patronizing. To understand the complexity of meaning that underlies such a ritual, one would have to go beyond the meanings articulated by the individual actors to an understanding of the relationships between conventions arising from idealist notions of chivalry and those arising from materialist discourses about women’s oppression. The question which then arises is the extent, if any, to which the speaking (or knowing) subject plays any active part in that process. The subject has been ‘de-centred’ but has she become totally powerless?

The relationship between knowledge and power is crucial to any attempt to theorize women’s experiences. The desire to know is a desire for power but knowledge of itself does not give power. On the contrary, it is those who have power who are authorized ‘to know’ and whose ‘knowledge’ is afforded privilege. But theprocess whereby such claims to know are authorized is a complex one, for power is not simply something which is produced by a particular class in society, transmitted through monolithic institutions, conspiratorial laws, and single-purpose systems. Power inheres in all social relations. Its origins are local and immanent, and its circulation through the social body can be likened to the capillary circulation of blood through the physical body (Hewitt 1983). The key to power is not overt domination of one group by another, but the acceptance by all that there exists ‘an ideal, continuous, smooth text that runs beneath the multiplicity of contradictions, and resolves them in the calm unity of coherent thought’ (Foucault 1972:155). In other words, power is achieved whenever paradox is simultaneously affirmed and denied—whenever its surface appearance is acknowledged but its underlying implications repressed. For example, the judge presiding over Kathy’s trial readily admitted the apparent paradox of placing a murderess on probation, but denied the existence of any underlying contradiction. This was, after all, a ‘tragic case’. In contrast, it might appear paradoxical that Gwen should be hospitalized for damaging her own property, but beneath the surface lies an essentially sick personality.

This process of reconstructing paradox as coherence, of rendering ‘that which is absent present’ (Cousins 1978:70) is the fundamental project of discourse. The term is used here to embrace all aspects of a communication—not only its content, but its author (who says it?), its authority (on what grounds?), its audience (to whom?), its object (about whom?), its objective (in order to achieve what?). Discourse

appears as an asset—finite, limited, desirable, useful—that has its own rules of appearance, but also its own conditions of appropriation and operation; an asset that consequently, from the moment of its existence (and not only in its ‘practice applications’), poses the question of power; an asset that is, by nature, the object of a struggle, a political struggle.

(Foucault 1972:120)

Analysis of discourse involves the deconstruction of coherence to reveal the underlying paradox and expose the absence of that which has been represented as being present. For example, one way of ensuring the ‘infinite continuity of discourse’ (Foucault 1972:25) is to demarcate its boundaries by employing ‘practices of exclusion’ (Gordon 1977:15). Such practices might include the prohibition of certain topics on grounds of ‘irrelevance’, the disqualification of certain individuals from being authorized speakers, and the rejection of certain statements as illegitimate. Gwen’s poverty is irrelevant to an assessment of her mental health; Ivy is disqualified from speaking about her own guilt or innocence; Kathy is not to be described as a murderess.

PROGRAMMES, TECHNOLOGIES, STRATEGIES—AND RESISTANCE

What then is the relationship between discourse and practice? What are the mechanisms whereby, in the face of a fragmented and contradictory reality, claims to know can be successfully translated into effective unified knowledge with over-determined consequences?

First, that fragmented and contradictory reality has to be reconstructed as a field of recognizable (that is, unified and ideologically congruent) objects, in which it is possible to intervene on the basis of a priori existing knowledge. The observable phenomenon of women breaking the law has to be programmed as women who break the law, and about whom knowledge already exists—has always existed, waiting to be laid claim to. And that knowledge already contains within it (perversely hidden but ultimately reachable) its own inevitable consequences and ‘correct’ solutions.

Second, those programmes of power require a channel of conveyance. The technology of such conveyance is varied and disparate. It may consist of architectural institutions, like courtrooms, hospitals, schools, factories, or prisons; it may consist of practices such as the provision of welfare, the ascription of motives, or the practices of exclusion already discussed. Finally, it may consist of norms—technologies which have been internalized to the extent that they are no longer recognized as technologies at all. Self-regulation demonstrates the supreme success of a programme.

Third, and conceptually most elusive, programmes and technologies are dependent for their success on strategies of intervention. Strategy is not the coherent, logical, overallplanning of action (although it may be represented as such). Rather, it is an opportunistic and expedient means of exploiting the field of intervention. It is the means whereby the authority of programmes can be maintained (or denied) in spite of (and yet because of) their effects. Strategy is ‘the outcome of a complex and fragmented process of struggle, within which the calculations of individuals and agencies play a crucial, but by no means controlling, part’ (Garland 1985:208). It is the process whereby individuals and agencies attempt to anticipate the effects of programmes and technologies and then utilize those effects to justify the continuance or cessation of such intervention. It is the means by which a programme ‘caters in advance for the eventuality of its own failure’ (Gordon 1979:38).

At this point, however, there is a danger of losing sight of the speaking subject. What power, if any, does she have over this process? Programmes, technologies, and strategies give certain meaning—or signification—to the subject and her acts and foreclose on the possibility of alternative meanings. To the extent that this signifying code is accepted by the subject, then it holds and controls her. Nevertheless, the subject does have power—the power to ‘infringe the code in the direction of allowing the subject to get pleasure from it, renew it or even endanger it’ (Kristeva 1975:52). The power of the subject is, therefore, the power of negativity and heterogeneity. It is the power to ‘say “No” to the conditions of existence of existent knowledge’ (Burton and Carlen 1979:19); it is the power of resistance to and refusal of assumptions of homogeneity. By demonstrating the existence of heterogeneity and contradiction, the speaking subject is helping to keep open the space within which knowledge is produced.

But is the nondescript female law-breaker really a resister? Does she, in fact, defy description? Surely, to view her as such is merely to romanticize her plight? For the most part, female lawbreakers appear markedly non-resistant. For the most part, they appear to be muted:

The theory of mutedness…does not require that the muted be actually silent. They may speak a great deal. The important issue is whether they are able to say all that they would wish to say, where and when they wish to say it. Must they, for instance, re-encode their thoughts to make them understood in the public domain? Are they able to think in ways which they would have thought had they been responsible for generating the linguistic tools with which to shape their thoughts? If they devise their own code will they be understood?

(Ardener 1978:21)

Members of muted groups, if they wish to communicate, must do so in terms of the dominant modes of expression. But dominance does not require the active domination of one group by another nor does it require any one individual’s structural position in a society to be constant. It is dependent, rather, on a ‘sub-group, or particular universe, of relevance at any one time’ (Ardener 1978:28), which produces:

– ideas about ‘reality’ and who is authorized to define it;

– the blunting of self-perceptions through the encouragement of ‘trivial’ concerns and small-scale pleasures;

– the exclusion of muted groups from ‘public’ space.

The subtlety of such dominance ensures that rebellion is confined to ‘minor deviations’ which ‘can become charged with emotive force’ for the participants but may exert little influence on the dominant group (Ardener 1978:28–9).

Yet, on closer examination, such ‘minor deviations’ may have power after all. One of the victims in Foucault’s compelling drama about a nineteenth-century French triple murderer, Pierre Rivière, is the protagonist’s mother, Victoire. Unlike her son, her mode of resistance to intolerable conditions of existence is not florid homicidal psychosis but subtle elusiveness and a frustrating refusal to comply with contracts entered into. She

felt that any contract remained a trick, an institutionalized assault…a frozen arrested, perpetual combat. She set herself up as an everlasting canceller of contracts, perpetually put them in doubt, and shifted their signs by setting them moving again—which is tantamount to repudiation and challenge.

(Foucault 1975:181)

Female law-breakers may have their own programmes, technologies, and strategies, for ‘the existence of those who seem not to rebel is a warren of minute, individual autonomous tactics and strategies which counter and inflect the visible facts of overall domination’ (Gordon 1979:43).

IMPLICATIONS FOR METHODOLOGY

The adoption of this particular mode of theorizing women’s experiences calls for a method of research which rejects notions of generalization through probability in favour of generalization through theoretical production. I have not sought to argue that I have found sufficient examples of the coexistence or correlation of two or more characteristics in my sample to justify asserting their coexistence or correlation in a wider population. I have not, for example, argued that, because the majority of the magistrates in this sample claimed to have little experience of dealing with female defendants, it is therefore probable that most magistrates would make a similar claim. I have argued instead that such claims illustrate the theoretical construct of’ self-disqualification’—a construct which I believe capable of offering some insight into the attitudes and practices of magistrates. I have then attempted to identify the specific ideological and material conditions necessary for the production and reproduction of such a construct.

The interviews on which this book is based constitute a case study. The term is used here to mean a detailed examination of material (in this instance, statements about attitudes and practices relating to a particular group of female law-breakers) which I believe demonstrates the operation of a general theoretical principle (namely, the power of discourse). The selection of interviewees was not random (for more details, refer to the appendix on ‘Researching Women’) nor is it claimed that those selected were necessarily representative of the wider population of their profession or status. They were chosen in the expectation not that their statements would be typical but that they would provide compelling illustrations of (or challenges to) my theoretical ...

Table of contents

• COVER PAGE
• TITLE PAGE
• COPYRIGHT PAGE
• SERIES EDITORS’ PREFACE
• ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
• INTRODUCTION
• CHAPTER ONE: THEORIZING WOMEN’S EXPERIENCES
• CHAPTER TWO: RULES AND AUTHORITY
• CHAPTER THREE: NOT MAD ENOUGH, NOT BAD ENOUGH: FIFTEEN FEMALE LAW-BREAKERS
• CHAPTER FOUR: INVISIBLE WOMEN?
• CHAPTER FIVE: GUILTY WOMEN?
• CHAPTER SIX: TREATABLE WOMEN?
• CHAPTER SEVEN: MANAGEABLE WOMEN?
• CHAPTER EIGHT: LISTENING TO WOMEN —A FOOTNOTE?
• CHAPTER NINE: WOMEN OFFENDERS OR OFFENDING WOMEN?
• APPENDIX: RESEARCHING WOMEN
• NOTES
• BIBLIOGRAPHY