Acad. Quest.

(2009) 22:491–503
DOI 10.1007/s12129-009-9133-7
A RT I C L E

A Delinquent Discipline:
The Rise and Fall of Criminology

Mike S. Adams

Published online: 30 September 2009

# Springer Science + Business Media, LLC 2009

What is the cause of crime? One can find answers in many places: in
Genesis, in the plays of Sophocles and Shakespeare, in Dostoyevsky’s Crime
and Punishment and Brothers Karamazov. The many answers include
impiety, appetite, rage, and even the lure of transgression itself. For many,
religious and poetic insights still offer the most compelling explanations. In the
eighteenth-century, Enlightenment scholars and intellectuals began seeking a
different kind of answer—one rooted in systematic inquiry and rational study.
Eventually these inquiries crystallized as the field of criminology, a distinct
branch of social science, interwoven within the history of sociology.
Within the field of criminology today the dominant answer to “What
causes people to commit crime?” includes three elements: blocked
opportunities, delinquent peers, and delinquent labels. That’s the story
leading criminology textbooks and theorists tell. Oddly, however, the
supporting evidence adduced by criminologists falls far short. Most of it is
marred by a deep systematic error that confuses cause and effect.
This doesn’t mean that the Enlightenment-inspired search for social
scientific explanations of criminality was misguided. To the contrary, we can
learn some important things from the empirical and statistical study of crime.
But honest twenty-first century criminology will have to review the “blocked
opportunities, delinquent peers, delinquent labels” explanations with renewed
skepticism. Criminology would do better to reexamine the views of its

Mike S. Adams is associate professor of criminology at the University of North Carolina Wilmington,
Wilmington, NC 28403; adamsm@uncw.edu.
492 Adams

founders, who believed that criminal behavior was a function of individual

choice.

Rational Choice Roots of Criminology in the Nineteenth Century

Criminology in the nineteenth century could hardly be characterized as a

“sociological” discipline. Due largely to the influence of Cesare Becaria
(1738–1794) and his “classical” school of thought, the prevailing view of the
criminal was that of a rational and hedonistic individual who possessed a will
free to choose between criminality and conformity. Discussion seldom focused
on societal limitations on the choices the individual could make. Indeed, there
was an insistence that an unwavering scale of exact punishments for equal acts
be administered without any consideration to the individual involved or any
special circumstances he may have faced.1 The early criminologists were a far
cry from the kinder, gentler ones we hear from now.
In the first days of the discipline it was hoped that punishment—swift,
certain, and severe—would deter people from making the wrong choice of
criminality over conformity. If internal mechanisms taking the form of moral
(generally religious) objections to crime proved insufficient, it was the
government’s job to frighten people into making the right choice.
When, later in the nineteenth century, the emphasis in criminology shifted
from a classical view to a “positive” view—from criminal behavior as freely
chosen to criminal behavior as caused—the discipline remained rooted in the
belief that a criminal was primarily to be understood as a predator from
whom society needed to protect itself.
Cesare Lombroso (1835–1909) led the transformation of the discipline in
the wake of Darwin by asserting that criminals were less “evolved” than their
non-criminal counterparts. While willing to regard crime in a more
deterministic way, Lombroso left no room for a discussion of societal
limitations on the human potential to conform to the law.
Perhaps by relieving them of the need to fund costly reforms, the concept
of the “born criminal” appealed particularly to the upper classes. However,
by focusing on readily identifiable physical characteristics—those evidencing

1
George B. Vold, Thomas J. Bernard, and Jeffrey B. Snipes, Theoretical Criminology, 5th ed. (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2001).
A Delinquent Discipline: The Rise and Fall of Criminology 493

a more “primitive” stage of evolutionary development—Lombroso’s work

also appealed to every class. Who wouldn’t want to be able to identify some
external physical characteristic associated with a crime such as rape or
murder? If in fact correct, this theory made the task of avoiding the
dangerous predator much simpler. Just keep your eyes peeled and run from
those possessing criminal traits.
The notion of rehabilitation was therefore rendered irrelevant—or at least
less relevant—in the minds of those who perceived, and preferred, an
opportunity to avoid criminal victimization. The preference is easy to
understand.
Similar to views concerning physical appearance, theories relating to
mental deficiency became popular just before the end of the nineteenth
century. Richard Dugdale’s 1875 family study, The Jukes: A Study in Crime,
Pauperism, Disease and Heredity, provides one example of the effort to link
low IQ to crime.2 After finding six members of a family in a New York jail,
Dugdale researched the family’s history over a period of two hundred years.
He suggested that the family was “degenerate” and prone to imbecility and
criminality. Dugdale’s discussion of the link between intelligence and
criminality did much to reinforce the notion that charity was actually bad
for society. The absence of social programs would lower the chances for
“degenerates” lacking the intelligence to make good choices to survive and
reproduce. According to this idea, efforts to produce a “Great Society” would
actually create a “Retrograde Society.”
“Survival of the fittest” may have been little more than a rationalization for
those who did not want to bear the burden of rehabilitation on behalf of
“society.” Regardless, this viewpoint starkly contrasted with twentieth-century
theories, which regarded society rather than the individual as the cause of
criminal conduct.

“Sociological” Criminology of the Early Twentieth Century

Most influential theories of the twentieth century took a more innocent

view of human nature, which resulted in the reluctance to hold an individual

2
Richard L. Dugdale, The Jukes: A Study in Crime, Pauperism, Disease and Heredity (1877; repr.,
New York: Arno Press, 1970), full text available at http://www.archive.org/stream/jukes00dugd/
jukes00dugd_djvu.txt.
494 Adams

responsible for his criminal conduct. To the extent that the individual had
“appetites” for crime, they were considered to be “culturally induced” as
opposed to “natural” tendencies
According to Robert K. Merton, social structure imposed limitations on
the individual’s ability to satisfy those appetites.3 This tension, or “strain” as
it became known, in turn resulted in crime. Thus, the concentration of crime
in the lower classes was regarded less as a function of low IQ and other
individual deficiencies and more due to the absence of legitimate
opportunities for achieving goals, such as personal wealth, in lower segments
of society.
Just a few years after Merton presented his strain theory, Edwin
Sutherland published his “differential association” theory.4 Sutherland
adopted a similar view of human nature—that criminal tendencies are not
inborn—and his theory suggested that both the motivation and the
techniques used to commit crime were transmitted to the “good” individual
by the “bad” society. How the sum of “good” individuals equals a “bad”
society is nowhere explained by differential association theory—or any
other theory, for that matter.
Since all people are exposed to pro-delinquent and anti-delinquent
influences, delinquency is explained by Sutherland as “an excess of
definitions favorable to violation of law over definitions unfavorable to
violation of law.”5 Later known as the “principle of differential association,”
this was a fancy way of saying that delinquency occurred when bad
influences outweighed good influences. Obviously, this principle characterizes
crime as a perfectly normal response to an abnormal environment, and
diverges from the nineteenth-century conception of the criminal as an
individual who makes bad decisions as a result of irrationality or psychological
abnormality.
“Labeling” theory emerged in the 1930s by reclassifying yet another
presumed consequence of crime as a cause. Edwin Lemert would eventually
paint a more detailed portrait of labeling theory than some of its earliest
proponents like Frank Tannenbaum. In the process of expanding upon that
earlier work, Lemert would make a crucial distinction between “primary” and

3
Robert K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure, enlarged ed. (Glencoe, IL: The Free Press, 1968).
4
Edwin Sutherland, Principles of Criminology, 4th ed. (Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott Company, 1947).
5
Ibid., 6–7.
A Delinquent Discipline: The Rise and Fall of Criminology 495

“secondary deviance”—the latter term encompassing what is perhaps the

principal contribution of the labeling perspective.6
For Lemert, virtually everyone would—at one time or another—commit
crime as a result of biological, psychological, or social factors. Crime
resulting from one of these broader causes was dubbed “primary deviance.”
It was assumed, rather safely, that among those committing acts of “primary
deviance” only a subset would be caught. When caught, these individuals
would likely be subjected to a greater degree of scrutiny than their
counterparts whose crimes go undiscovered.
According to labeling theorists, the process of getting caught in an act of
primary deviance and being subjected to “formal labeling” (probation,
prison, etc.) or “informal labeling” (ridicule, ostracism, etc.) had further
consequences. Among the possible consequences: lower self-esteem,
identification with the criminal label, and exclusion from certain segments
of society. Any subsequent deviance beyond the original cause (primary
deviance) was identified as “secondary deviance.”
Taken together, these twentieth-century theories about the origins of crime
called for greater social intervention than nineteenth-century explanations. If
“bad” society could create crime, then social engineering could undo the
damage. Sociologists and criminologists would be well-suited for the task, if
indeed they possessed a better understanding of the “root causes” of crime.
Consider the key differences in the classical view, the positive view, and
the sociological view of crime causation:
Classical View: The decision to commit crime has consequences that
include blocked opportunities, ostracism from conformists, and the
attachment of a delinquent label.

Positive View: Genetic factors including, but not limited to, low IQ affect
the decision to commit crime. Such decisions have consequences that
include blocked opportunities, ostracism from conformists, and the
attachment of a delinquent label.

Sociological View: Sociological factors including blocked opportunities,

association with delinquents, and the attachment of a delinquent label exert
a causal effect on crime.

6
Edwin Lemert, “Deviance,” in Encyclopedia of Crime and Justice, ed. Sanford H. Kadish (New York:
Macmillan and the Free Press, 1983), 2:601–611.
496 Adams

Naturally, any discipline that wishes to call itself scientific must be willing to
collect data that helps reconcile these very different explanations of crime
causation. In the late twentieth century, criminologists would spend a lot of
time—and no small amount of government funds—doing just that.

Quantitative Criminology in the Late Twentieth Century

With the explosion of journals publishing sociological and criminological

research in the twentieth century, social scientists found many outlets to
produce a wealth of literature on the topic of crime causation. Most of this
research would take the form of self-report questionnaires administered by
unofficial (non-government) entities. These self-report questionnaires simply
asked respondents to report how much crime they had committed, usually in
the previous year. While official (government collected) sources were
established in the twentieth century, they simply were not able to answer—
indeed, they did not even seek to—complex questions about crime causation.
Although self-report questionnaires were developed in the 1940s, they
were not widely used to address questions of crime and delinquency
causation until the 1960s. Even then, self-report questionnaires suffered from
serious flaws, including an undue emphasis on trivial forms of crime and
delinquency and a tendency to focus on simplistic “yes/no” response options
when inquiring about particular criminal acts committed during the past year.
For example, a question might read: “Yes or No, in the last year, did you
strike a member of your family in anger?”
One can easily imagine how focusing on trivial items—especially with a
measure that assigns a maximum outcome for a single offense—could result
in unrealistically high scores. It follows that this could also reduce the
amount of variation between different respondents. Such a result is
problematic for those wishing to study, for example, the relationship between
social class and crime. The class/crime issue is especially well-suited for
analyses employing the self-report method. But any class differences in crime
go undetected if flaws in the instrument hide the true extent of class
variations.
Changes in the nature of self-report measures during the 1970s
significantly attenuated these difficulties. By (typically) employing five-item
ordinal dependent variables—and also by focusing on more serious forms of
predatory crime—criminologists were now able to address previously
A Delinquent Discipline: The Rise and Fall of Criminology 497

inaccessible issues. But the discipline still had one major issue left to resolve.
This involved the continued use of cross-sectional studies, which survey
subjects only once, rather than longitudinal studies, which include follow-up
surveys. These longitudinal studies, rather than mere correlational analysis,
are crucial to assessments of true cause and effect.
The fundamental difference between nineteenth-century and twentieth-
century views of crime causation rests on whether certain bad social
outcomes (blocked opportunities, labeling, association with delinquents)
precede or follow criminal involvement. Hence, an honest assessment of the
accuracy of either perspective requires the use of longitudinal data that
measure both crime and key theoretical variables at more than one time
interval.
For example, subjects may be asked “How many of your friends smoke
marijuana?” as one measure of the independent variable of delinquent peer
associations. They can be asked “How often in the last year did you smoke
marijuana?” as one measure of the dependent variable of juvenile drug use.
But this does not put the researcher in a position to evaluate cause and effect.
One can only speak in terms of correlation.
The problem is resolved when employing a longitudinal study, which
re-interviews subjects a year later. In such a design, one can simply use the
independent measure (peer drug use) from the first survey and the dependent
measure (respondent drug use) from the second survey. Here, cause clearly
precedes effect.
Researchers in the field are sometimes able, at least somewhat, to control
for the lack of longitudinal data by using “age-stratified inquires.” For
example, they may ask fourteen-year-old boys about their career aspirations.
They may then ask forty-year-old men about their actual accomplishments.
But such studies merely note contemporaneous events and posit one as the
cause of the other. The “longitudinal panel study”—which poses the same
questions to the same (panel of) subjects over time—allows for statistical
control. For example, one can measure for levels of delinquency prior to and
after measuring the dependent variable.
Researchers cannot control for everything because they cannot measure
everything, but they are in a better position to make causal arguments by
measuring and controlling for some potentially spurious variables. If, on the
other hand, modern criminologists simply ignored the issue of causal
ordering of key variables they would be violating standards of professional
498 Adams

competence. If modern criminologists simply pretended their theoretical

variables predicted, without measuring them prior to, delinquency, they
would be violating standards of professional ethics.
Ronald Akers and John Cochran published “Adolescent Marijuana Use: A
Test of Three Different Theories of Deviant Behavior,” a 1985 study which
raised potential ethical questions concerning practices common in the discipline
of criminology by the end of the twentieth century.7 After warning readers that
researchers must address the “usual caveats” of using cross-sectional research to
make causal arguments, they disregard their own advice in a way that allows
them to assert that data supporting a nineteenth-century view of crime causation
instead supports a twentieth-century view.
In an effort to compare the relative predictive value of “social learning”
theory (versus “social control” theory and strain theory), the Akers and
Cochran study reports that social learning theory explained a remarkable 68
percent of the variance in self-reported marijuana use. This was much higher
than the modest level of variance explained by social control theory and the
very low level of variance explained by strain theory.
Akers and Cochran asserted that factors such as the modeling of marijuana
use by one’s peers led to a higher level of self-reported marijuana use.
Unfortunately, the level of marijuana use by peers was measured in the
present tense. Self-reported marijuana use was assessed by asking subjects
how often they smoked the drug over the past year. The researchers’
reasoning was backwards. The data, properly interpreted, should lead to the
opposite conclusion—that those who smoke marijuana are more likely in the
future to associate with those who also smoke marijuana. In other words,
certain consequences attach to the decision to smoke marijuana. Among the
consequences is an unwillingness of conformists to the law to associate with
non-conformists—in this case, marijuana smokers.
So, there really wasn’t anything remarkable about the predictive efficacy
of social learning variables in the Akers and Cochran study. These variables
were actually predicting the past, which is hardly a scholarly achievement.
Anyone can do it.
The Akers and Cochran study also misinterprets the relatively low level of
variance explained by the model employing strain variables. Their
observation that strain theory was unsupported by the data was meant to

7
Ronald L. Akers and John K. Cochran, “Adolescent Marijuana Use: A Test of Three Different Theories of
Deviant Behavior,” Deviant Behavior 64 (1985): 323–46.
A Delinquent Discipline: The Rise and Fall of Criminology 499

convey this assertion: perceptions of blocked educational and occupational

opportunities do not lead to marijuana use. However, these perceptions were
also measured in the present tense while self-reported delinquency (acts
subjects reported they committed with no indication that they were actually
caught committing them) was measured over the course of the preceding
year. Hence, the only conclusion warranted is: youths who are not caught
smoking marijuana do not expect their conduct to result in blocked
educational opportunities or blocked occupational opportunities.
While the Akers and Cochran study is nearly twenty-five years old, more
recent studies fall prey to similar errors of interpretation. For example, in a
2007 article Ieva Cechaviciute and Dianna T. Kenny claim that “techniques
of neutralization”—or rationalization for criminal conduct—are strong
predictors of self-reported delinquency.8 They also incorporate present-tense
labeling measures when asking respondents whether they agree with the
statement “Most people think I am a delinquent.” This is done in conjunction
with a self-report scale measuring delinquency in the past tense.
Despite the fact that they measure their dependent variable before crucial
independent variables, Cechaviciute and Kenny wrongly report that their
results are consistent with labeling theory, which suggests that being
labeled delinquent is a cause, not a consequence, of delinquency. The
authors also incorrectly posit that certain neutralization factors are
predictors of self-reported delinquency. Again, these predictors follow
rather than precede self-reported delinquency measures. Finally, they urge
that “caution must be observed in interpreting the findings of (their)
correlational study.”9 They claim that it is quite possible, for example, that
prior delinquency could facilitate the development of perceived delinquent
labels, rather than vice versa.
But Cechaviciute and Kenny understate their case. More than mere
possibility, that prior delinquency facilitates the development of perceived
delinquent labels is what the data in their study actually demonstrated—
conclusively and in direct contrast with their published interpretation. Their
conclusion that labeling affected delinquency is not a possibility given the
reversed measurement of key variables.

8
Ieva Cechaviciute and Dianna T. Kenny, “The Relationship Between Neutralizations and Perceived
Delinquency Labeling on Criminal History in Young Offenders Serving Community Orders,” Criminal
Justice and Behavior 34, no. 6 (2007): 816–29.
9
Ibid., 827.
500 Adams

Unfortunately, sociology and criminology journals are filled with so many

studies making the same fundamental error that a comprehensive survey of
such fatally flawed literature is impracticable. However, studies using similar
theoretical variables, but which also employ longitudinal measures, do exist.
It is worthwhile to examine a couple.
Jón Gunnar Bernburg, Marvin D. Krohn, and Craig Rivera conducted a
longitudinal test of delinquency using variables from both labeling and
differential association theories.10 The study found that juvenile justice
intervention is associated with greater subsequent involvement in delinquent
networks. Such networks include membership in delinquent gangs.
Perhaps more important, this longitudinal study shows that increases in
subsequent gang involvement and involvement in informal delinquent
networks mediate the effects of formal labeling on delinquency. My own
research, conducted prior to this study, demonstrates that informal labeling
effects on delinquency are mediated by subsequent delinquent peer
associations.11 In other words, when longitudinal—not cross-sectional—
studies are considered, formal labeling does not seem to be a direct cause of
delinquency. Nor does informal labeling seem to be a direct cause of
delinquency.
There is also some longitudinal evidence that suggests that engaging in
delinquency makes one more likely to spend time socializing with other
delinquents in the future. Using longitudinal data, Cesar Rebellon conducted
a study of male delinquents.12 Results indicated that subsequent increases in
socializing with other delinquents are due not to their own desire to socialize
with delinquents, but instead to the fact that only delinquents are willing to
socialize with them.
It is interesting to observe the way that differential association/social
learning variables perform in the presence of other theoretical variables—
both in cross-sectional and longitudinal studies. Clearly, studies like the
Akers and Cochran demonstrate that strain variables lose considerable
predictable efficacy in conjunction with such theoretical variables. In the more

10
Jón Gunnar Bernburg, Marvin D. Krohn, and Craig Rivera, “Official Labeling, Criminal Embeddedness,
and Subsequent Delinquency: A Longitudinal Test of Labeling Theory,” Journal of Research in Crime
and Delinquency 43, no. 1 (2006): 67–88.
Mike S. Adams, “Labeling and Differential Association: Towards a General Social Learning Theory of
11

Crime and Deviance,” American Journal of Criminal Justice 20, no. 2 (March 1996): 149–64.
12
Cesar J. Rebellon, “Do Adolescents Engage in Delinquency to Attract the Social Attention of Peers? An
Extension and Longitudinal Test of the Social Reinforcement Hypothesis,” Journal of Research in Crime
and Delinquency 43, no. 4 (2006): 387–411.
A Delinquent Discipline: The Rise and Fall of Criminology 501

sophisticated longitudinal studies mentioned earlier, labeling variables—both

formal and informal—lose their power when differential association/social
learning variables are added to the equation.
The paucity of longitudinal research in criminology journals speaks
volumes about the academic and ethical climate of the discipline in the
twentieth century. It also clearly points to the future direction of criminology.

Quantitative Criminology in the Twenty-First Century

The discipline of criminology desperately needs to take a new path in the

twenty-first century, largely because it continues to tolerate the use of the
same obvious methodological errors while deeming itself “progressive.” This
is surely not progress. No discipline can hope to move forward by testing its
theories backwards.
By the mid-1980s—when Akers and Cochran published their study on
social learning and marijuana use, for example—criminology had developed
sophisticated measures of key independent and dependent variables. But
criminologists continued to make these three fundamental errors, listed from
least to most egregious, which rendered their research suspect:
1. Conduct cross-sectional studies in order to test cause/effect relationships.
This is certainly understandable, given that longitudinal studies are so
much more expensive and time consuming to conduct. The pressure to
publish, especially among untenured researchers, makes this the least
harmful of the three errors.

2. Warn that the cross-sectional nature of a study merely causes

ambiguities when interpreting cause and effect. It does not. While it
may appear that measuring the dependent and independent variables at
the same point in time produces ambiguities, the problem goes deeper.
Given that the dependent variables are always measured in the past
tense—respondents cannot be asked whether they are presently
committing a crime or plan to in the future—the “effect,” crime,
actually precedes the cause. Since this is impossible, it cannot be an
effect. It must be a cause. There is nothing complicated about this
problem and ignoring it will not make it disappear. Regrettably, most
researchers end up doing just that in their studies, which is why this
error causes greater concern.
502 Adams

3. Claim falsely that results confirm a sociological view of crime

causation. When the direction of the independent and dependent
variables actually reverses, the researcher risks confirming the classical
perspective while claiming to confirm the sociological perspective. This
error causes the greatest concern because it points to the researcher’s
methodological incompetence or intellectual dishonesty.
More than twenty years separate the publication of the Akers and Cochran
and the other cross-sectional study examined in this piece, that by
Cechaviciute and Kenny. Both make the same three fundamental errors
described above. The reason for this is simple: similar examples are simply
too numerous to review. In other words, these egregious errors have become
institutional norms within the discipline of criminology.
One can get a sense of just how embedded these norms are by looking at
the texts used to teach criminology to undergraduate students. For example,
Criminology, by Piers Bierne and James W. Messerschmidt, employs thirty-five
scholarly references in its presentation and evaluation of strain, labeling,
and differential association—the three sociological theories discussed in
this article.13 Predictably, only six, or 17 percent, of those thirty-five
references actually use data to test the theories. When they do, the studies
using cross-sectional analysis outnumber the studies using longitudinal
analysis by a ratio of five to one.
This is a very serious issue. Most college students who take a course in
criminology will take only one. Texts like the Bierne and Messerschmidt
spend an inordinate amount of time on theories with decidedly leftist policy
implications—as opposed to classical theories with very different policy
implications. Due to methodological error, they also present studies that
disproportionately measure theories in a way that cannot confirm sociological
theories but can only potentially confirm classical theories. Despite this, Bierne
and Messerschmidt do not even hint that when routinely measuring a theory
backwards one runs the risk of confirming a different theory.
And that is precisely why a change is so desperately needed—one that
must take the form of an exclusive focus on longitudinal studies when
exploring issues of crime causation. Because such studies are more expensive
and time-consuming it means that criminology will produce less research.

13
Piers Bierne and James W. Messerschmidt, Criminology (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1994).
A Delinquent Discipline: The Rise and Fall of Criminology 503

But this is not a disadvantage if it means that criminologists will be

producing less shoddy research.
We have already gotten a glimpse of what longitudinal studies might tell
us about the relative predictive power of various sociological theories. But
even before that research is examined, studies like the one by Akers and
Cochran show just how weak strain theory is relative to differential
association/social learning theories. The handful of longitudinal studies
suggests that formal labeling and informal labeling theories also fare poorly
in relation to differential association/social learning theories.
Sooner or later, criminologists must get down to the serious business of
expanding the literature based on legitimate longitudinal analysis. When the
dust settles, differential association/social learning theories may perhaps be
the only sociological theories left standing. But that will only mean we have
answered the question of how criminal behavior is transmitted, not how it is
initiated.
Criminologists may eventually discover that the end of the road leads back
to the beginning—to an individual choice to commit crime. Perhaps that
explains why they choose to travel so slowly. Clearly, their desire to advance
progressivism is preventing academic progress.