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The word witch conjures up a black-cloaked figure with a pointed hat flying on a broomstick, often with green skin and a hooked nose: the epitome of feminine evil. Although this version of witches was popularised in The Wizard of Oz (1939) and commercialised in mid-twentieth-century North American Halloween costumes, conjecture is that it originated from the slightly greenish hue of applying botanical remedies, or the appearance of witches who had endured bruising and painful torture. During the height of the European witch hunts (about 1450–1750, with the greatest intensity 1550–1650), an estimated 40,000–60,000 witches were executed (Levack, 1987). Although some men factored into this death toll, estimates are that 75–80% of witches executed were women (Gibbons, 1998). Fear and persecution of witches exists globally, dating to Ancient Rome, but the more systematic purges were the result of complex forces, including rapid social and economic changes of the Early Modern era, the Reformation, the Little Ice Age and the Plague (Federici, 2014; Golden, 2006). Those perceived as witches, often impoverished, older, single women, were easy scapegoats for society's ills.

In recent decades, the depth and accuracy of archival research into witch hysteria have improved. Drawing on this research, this chapter examines the place of witch persecutions in the contemporary context. Although people often recognise the injustice of these persecutions, few countries have granted legal pardons or erected memorials to their victims. Why is the acknowledgement of these injustices so slow coming? What fears about witches do we still harbour?

Over 600,000 people are released from federal and state prisons each year, up from about 160,000 in 1980. As such, the reentry literature is framed around these individuals and the personal barriers to reintegration they face. Less work, however, explicitly investigates the role reentry professionals and organizations play in actively shaping the reentry terrain. Using ethnographic observations, document analysis, and interviews with both criminal justice professionals and ex-prisoners, this chapter examines how an organizational field constructs reentry as a racially colorblind process. Although race and racism shape criminal justice, labor market, and other institutional experiences, I find that the positioning of reentry as meritocracy operates to both explain and justify the inequalities experienced by ex-prisoners.

The power of the executive to refer cases involving criminal conviction back to an appellate court is a mechanism for guarding against miscarriages of justice and regulating the inherent fallibility of the criminal justice system. These cases typically come before the executive by way of a petition that claims a person has been wrongfully convicted. In Australia, however, there are few guidelines and little information as to the criteria and standards by which the executive decides whether to refer a petitioned case. The test the petitioner must meet is not clear. This chapter therefore has two purposes. The first is to examine the types of petitions most likely to be referred to the appellate court by the executive. These cases are shown to fall into particular categories. The second is to argue that, from these categories, inferences may be drawn about the test the executive uses in deciding whether to refer a petition. These inferences follow from the common principles and links between the cases in each category. The chapter identifies the test the petition should meet to have optimal chance of referral.

The struggle against torture and institutional violence has to be practiced in numerous scenarios: in the very places of deprivation of liberty, against workers, administrations and judges who try to hide it or justify it, but also, it’s a struggle against an academy that, too often, has decided to look the other way. In order to be activist, criminology must leave the classroom and enter the places of deprivation of liberty. It must engage with victims and survivors and it has to make political and social denunciations, organising itself and weaving networks with other social organisations that fight for the same goal. Unfortunately, it also has to fight against the very obstacles that the criminal justice system institutions pose; the denunciations and persecution of these same institutions and some police and prison workers groups and unions; the dirty war against terrorism and political dissent; and the criminalisation of some mass media and also of the academic world, where activism against this phenomenon is a minority and marginalised. These two sides of the same coin, involvement in anti-torture activist movements, as well as persecution and criminalisation when challenging state power, is what the authors of this chapter have experienced in Catalonia and Spain. While we fight against torture outside the classroom, we also carry out activism inside the classroom, teaching what other academics do not want to engage with, and pointing out the political elements of criminology and the action of the penal system. In this chapter, the authors highlight the use of torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment in custody and prison, and in the context of police activity in Spain. Then, the authors explain the structures of denial (political, judicial and academic) that allow its perpetuation and impunity. The text ends with a journey through the configuration of activist criminology in Spain that unites critical analysis from a legal sociology perspective with collective and activist intervention.

In 1996, philosopher Jacques Derrida appealed to then President Bill Clinton to encourage a re-trial for American death-row prisoner, Mumia Abu-Jamal. Derrida's co-authored open letter, one of his most famous political interventions, rehearses the trajectory of his later writings on ethics, specifically the interrelated concepts of justice and forgiveness. In articulating the limits of legality, Derrida contends that an unconditional forgiveness exists outside the conventional dichotomy of the possible and the impossible. The performative paradox of “forgiving the unforgivable” may well require, in his own formulation, a “messianicity beyond messianism.”

Purpose – To examine the immigration, crime and justice nexus from the perspective of non-state theorists.

Method – Review and synthesis of the literature.

Findings – The process of criminalization and victimization of immigrants is part of a wider situation of the neo-liberal development that causes destruction of the former social structure and thus of the practices of negotiated and peaceful management of disorder, discomfort and social problems. Fears and uncertainties connected to destruction of the political organization of society are exploited to support a securitarism that fails to create security but excels in reproducing insecurity.

Value – The criminalization and victimization of immigrants is seen from a much broader perspective than normally found, one that links those issues to political economy and global social structures.

This essay explores a radical shift in how the relationship between the power to punish and sovereignty has been conceived in modern American law; specifically focusing on the quiet death of comity as an operative principle in the exercise of criminal jurisdiction. While this essay attends to certain legal issues arising from historical intersections of federal, state and Indian sovereignty in the field of criminal law, this essay is not an attempt to directly evaluate the history of federal policies applied to Indian tribes or tribal lands. Nor is this essay in any strict sense a legal history of federal-tribal relations, or federal penal policy in relation to Indian tribes. Rather, I am concerned here with a series of liminal moments in the American legal tradition in which the power to punish came to be understood ever more one-sidedly, as an atomizing attribute of sovereignty rather than an identifying feature of community within a pluralistic legal framework.