It is true that in the Sixties social scientists were seeking to establish a genuine ‘scientific method’, but at the same time physical scientists were questioning whether the basic assumptions in their own disciplines could ever be neutral or objective (see Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions). Since then the social scientists have largely accepted the fact that they cannot establish a genuine ‘scientific method’. A prominent English sociologist, Anthony Giddens, has stated that ‘those who still wait for a Newton of the social sciences are not only waiting for a train that won’t arrive, they’re in the wrong station all together.’

Professor Tay, in her article ‘Law, the Citizen and the State’, is upset by the recent hostility to law ‘as a social institution, as an intellectual discipline and as a repository of values.’ She believes that the attack on law stems from groups demanding instant recognition and satisfaction of their demands. She says that the danger does not lie in helping these under-privileged people, but in elevating one social problem above all others. This selfishness is shown by a pseudo-individualism that refuses to accept the complexities that are involved in dealing with real individuals, concrete rights and conflicting social claims and demands. Professor Tay feels that never before in public life have people seen themselves as the centre of the universe and never have they been less perceptive, less honest, about themselves and their problems. ‘They want to touch others, to have encounters, because they cannot bear to live with themselves.’ She argues that it is precisely this emotional and intellectual dishonesty that forms the real content of the attack on objectivity and of the demand for ‘commitment’ and ‘communication’ – the demand that facts be not allowed to stand in the way, that ‘the medium itself become the message, that content take second, third and ultimately no place … People, even politicians and political activists – perhaps especially politicians and political activists – tend to think in black and white and they tend to think of one thing at a time.’

What Professor Tay has to say is accurate for some people, but she is at fault for thinking in black and white. In addition, she seems to have no understanding of the feelings of a deprived group which year after year accepts the ‘objective’ rules formulated by those in power and plays by these rules, only to realise that nothing has changed. If an oppressed group’s demands are continuously disregarded it will cease accepting the rules of the game and seek other methods of achieving its aims.

Professor Tay defends the common law by denying it is rigid. She rightfully points out that the field of land law was revolutionised by creation of the institution of the trust and a whole new area of commercial and company law was developed by creative judges. But these developments took place in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Abel-Smith and Stevens in Lawyers and the Courts, have vividly described the failure of the legal profession and the common law courts to participate in the creation of the welfare state during the twentieth century. Professor Tay’s romance with the common law is summed up in the following way: ‘The very essence of the common law, as a charter of liberties, has lain in its constant, meticulous concern with the matter before the court, with real people and real social situations, whose problems were not analysed for cost-benefit by the state to show that they were not worth the trouble.’ To her the common law is rooted in some kind of common culture. This fails to take into account the fact that most people have been and still denied access to the courts because they cannot afford the cost of a legal action. The concern for ‘real people’ and ‘real social situations’ is for the members of society that can afford real lawyers.

Professor Morrison in his article ‘Frames of Reference for Legal Ideals’ laments the loss of the traditional legal article. He states: ‘What was characteristic of the earlier writings … was a belief in the validity of continuing values, enshrined in the law as they had emerged even in the remote past, accompanied by varying degrees of anxiety about threats to those values from social factors developing outside the law’ It is true that we can gain immense knowledge from earlier writings and an understanding of our own present system of legal values. But it does not mean that these values should be cherished to such a degree that they are never replaced or at least drastically modified.

Professor Morrison does an excellent job of tracing the development of legal thought during the twentieth century. He then critically examines these ideas. In his conclusion he sees these theories as having an influence on present legal developments. He reiterates an earlier suggestion that ‘current community thinking tends to adopt society as a frame of reference for formulating ideals for law, which must be implemented by transformation of it, rather than seek ideals in law commanding respect.’ Professor Morrison realises that there is a current dissatisfaction with present legal and social arrangements. But he rejects the replacement of ‘received’ ideals of law, morals and political ideology by dubious ethical argument. He calls instead for clarity of thought – for an examination of where our values really come from ‘in terms or our own personal, political, moral and social history and experience.’ Such an examination must take place as a precondition for examining ‘in what respects existing political, moral and social arrangements are at odds with them.’ Professor Morrison is correct in asking for this examination. But for some people such a thorough examination has already taken place. They have formulated a set of alternative legal values they seek to have implemented to replace the existing legal arrangements with which they are dissatisfied.

Professor Kamenka and Professor Tay in their article, ‘Socialism, Anarchism and Law’, rightly point out that the crisis in law and legal ideology is not only confined to the West or to free enterprise societies, but is also found in the communist world. It is a struggle between bureaucratic-administrative realism (Soviet view) and the Maoist version that existed during the Cultural Revolution. This is a struggle between ‘technological rationality’ and ‘peasant anarchism’. The authors state that ‘the tension is between revolutionary transformation and the desire for social stability, between mass campaigns and the provision of social and psychological security for individuals, social spheres and activities, between utopian spontaneity and technical-administrative realism. In the West, the crisis is a crisis in the individualistic view of society, in a legal model attuned to the settled citizen living on terms of equality with those around him, secure and confident as an individual in his bearing vis-a-vis the state and the rest of society’. I find this analysis rather simplistic in its distinction. Elements of the crisis in the West can be found in communist society, and vice versa.

The authors criticise the romantic enthusiasm for the personal element in the law – people’s courts etc. ‘The sentimentality and superficiality of the new picture is reflected in its comparatively fleeting impact; it is always being undermined by concrete, real developments. It is thus that the romantic radical passes, in quick succession, from the achievements and alleged brotherhood of the Soviet Komsomol to Yugoslavia, Cuba, the Congo (Zaire), China, Chile and even Bangladesh, just as the critics of the medically-trained pass from one ‘healer’ to another. The authors dismiss too easily the desire of many people to change our impersonal institutions. For example many scholars are involved in important work trying to develop alternative methods of solving disputes. One way of doing this is to examine institutions in other societies to see how they can be changed to suit local conditions.

Finally, the authors trace the history of socialism and examine revolutionary communist societies. They conclude that these societies still have conflicts and if law withers away it is replaced by force; that human society remains a complex system of competing interests, claims and requirements. This statement depends on one’s definition of law. Many societies resolve their problems without any formal legal system or the resort to force.

The article by Professor Brown, ‘The New Criminology’, is an attack very much in the idiom of the old or ‘mainstream’ criminology. He states: ‘The importance of the questions and answers proposed by the new criminology will have to be judged on their scientific merit alone; the political uses which they may or may not possess will have to be shown separately.’ Why? Because that is the criterion central to the mainstream, value-free approach.

New criminologists however do not see the political, economic and social institutions as separable and therefore approach the study of crime as an analysis of political phenomena, or social phenomena with political implications. They point out that all studies of crime, or any. other social behaviour, have a political application, even those which adopt the self-description ‘value-free’ or ‘scientific’, and disclaim such uses.

Professor Brown accepts the mythology that violent crimes are committed by the lower class, despite recent evidence to the contrary. For example, the Bureau of Crime Statistics and Research in New South Wales found in its study of domestic violence that contrary to popular beliefs, men who assault their wives are evenly represented throughout the socio-economic spectrum. Finally, Professor Brown does not take into consideration the role of traditional criminologists or the media in influencing public opinion by under-emphasis on white collar crime.

I would suggest that if the reader is interested in a more fruitful criticism of the new criminologists he or she should read a new journal – Contemporary Crisis (especially volume 1 number 1 and volume 2 number 3).

The final article is entitled ‘The New Penology’ by Professor Hawkins. He states that the need for prisons is largely accepted by those writing in the field. But he fails to take into consideration the type of person writing this criminological literature. In discussing the argument for abolition of the prisons Professor Hawkins has lumped together people with views on the subject that stem from very different theoretical foundations. One omission is failure to discuss the seminal work, Punishment and Social Structure ( 1939), by Rusche and Kirchheimer, which outlines the historical development-of prisons and has provided an important foundation for studies in the new penology. In addition, he does not discuss a recent important work, The Politics of Abolition by Mathiesen. Finally, there is no reference to Australian material on the subject.

In support of his view that the correctional authorities should not adopt the new penology, Professor Hawkins cites studies published on the views of prisoners. He gives the specific example of the Attica uprising in the United States. He says that the prisoners’ demands at Attica were described as revolutionary. In analysing the demands by these prisoners Professor Hawkins shows that they were remarkably moderate. But was it possible for these prisoners to demand for example the abolition of the prison? They did not make radical demands because they had a realistic assessment of the situation. Such demands would never have been met by the prison officials. If these demands were so innocuous, why did the State of New York reject them so violently and kill forty-three prisoners? ‘The reader gets a very distorted picture of what actually took place at Attica.

This book is an interesting effort to try and criticise the attacks presently being· made against the existing system. I do not consider that it does this successfully, but at times it does require those launching the attacks to think more clearly about their objectives.