Abstract
It is a reasonable question to ask why we need another book on risk, and perhaps especially one focusing on crime, security and justice – which have been extensively explored in terms of risk over the past 20 years or so. At one level, there is indeed a sense of ‘here we go again’ that rises up as the book winds its way fairly predictably through an introduction to the major ‘perspectives’ on risk, maps its own position among these, then moves on to consider: the governance of crime through risk; issues of fear of crime; and the development of risk-focused security regimes. Most of this is going to be very familiar to scholars of the field. But I would stress at the outset that even in terms of this narrow reading, Gabe Mythen has written a book that is generally very encompassing and thorough, and brings together a large mass of research and theorizing into a coherent and readable account. As the book’s blurb suggests, this makes it admirably suited as a text for the multitude of undergraduate and even graduate courses that focus on risk, crime and security. All the more so because rather than pushing a strong case, the tone of the book is fairly diffident – written by one who sees himself as ‘a risk agnostic’. This leaves open considerable room for debate rather than confronting us with a tightly sewn-up case that we can either take or leave. Perhaps this is justification enough for another crime and risk book. A comprehensive and engaging teaching resource is a valuable contribution. But this would be an assessment that ignores some of the innovations and contributions of Understanding the Risk Society, as well as some of its problematic but also stimulating silences.
One of the more innovative turns is the insertion of a ‘culture of fear perspective’ into the space traditionally occupied by the holy trinity of ‘governmentality’, ‘risk society’ and ‘anthropological’ approaches to risk. While elements of ‘fear’ are present in the latter two approaches, Mythen boosts it to a central place by incorporating Frank Furedi’s work on the promotion of a culture of fear by politicians, media and experts. This is justified through an argument that Furedi not only adopts a more dystopian vision of fear/risk than, say, Ulrich Beck, but that he also focuses much more on the social processes whereby the culture of fear is promoted. This comes to the fore, especially in the discussions of fear, risk and crime, and also in discussions of the political manipulation of populations through the politics of security and terrorism. It remains a moot point whether Furedi’s work warrants the elevation Mythen gives it, partly because quite a few writers have stressed fear of crime without centring his idiosyncratic take on things. But more important, the focus is puzzling in an agnostic book because so little is made of the contrasting (but not hostile or contradictory) work on cultures of risk as opportunity. A few pages on ‘risk-taking, culture and pleasure’ are tacked on to the end of the discussion of crime, risk and governance, where they appear as an afterthought. But at no stage does this appear as something to be discussed vis-à-vis the culture of fear: something about which cultural criminologists, among others, might have more to say.
Probably a much more important contribution is Mythen’s questioning of what is lost through the focus on risk that has become so pervasive in criminology. It is really in this discussion that the cast of predictability associated with a text on crime and risk is fractured productively. Having drawn the reader through a mass of theory, speculation and evidence on the pervasiveness of risk techniques and risk consciousness, the closing discussions of the book not only raise questions about how far risk’s thrall has been overstated – something discussed by many others – but much more importantly whether the ‘traditional’ or core questions of sociology and criminology have been marginalized in thinking ‘through risk’. This is not the empirical critique often made in relation to Beck’s more extreme statements about the ways in which risk consciousness has displaced class consciousness. Rather, Mythen is more interested in the cost to social theory of muting its concerns with class and poverty; with inequalities in health, education and diet; and with the global problems of famine, racism and genocide. He calls for scholars to ‘exhibit bravery’ in breaking away from the hegemony of thinking about the world through the lens of risk, and to turn back toward a focus on ‘social harm’. It is an important call, even if it rather overstates the case. By no means have even risk scholars ignored these issues – the late Barbara Hudson being a shining example of a risk researcher who unremittingly focused on harm and injustice. Even so, the argument is one worth making and developing, especially at a time when, as Mythen also suggests, risk’s predominance in governmental thinking is being challenged by an array of ‘post-risk’ frameworks such as precaution, pre-emption, preparedness and (although very surprisingly this is not discussed) resilience.
So, this book succeeds in stimulating thought and debate, even though most of the issues have been turned over many times before. Of course there are some grumbles. Surprisingly, while there is an excellent discussion on environmental risks that is used to broaden the focus beyond narrow concerns with risk and (political) security, no mention is made of green criminology and its own struggles to push criminology beyond its comfort zone. However, overall Understanding the Risk Society is a solid, stimulating and worthwhile volume that deserves to be treated as much more important than another undergraduate text.