The Militarisation of Behaviours: Social Control and Surveillance in Poland and Ireland (Critical Criminological Perspectives) 3031166000, 9783031166006

Table of contents :
Preface
References
Acknowledgements
About This Book
Contents
About the Author
List of Figures
1 Introduction
Introduction
Poland and Ireland
Colonial History and Experience
Poland, Post-Colonialism, and Post-Soviet Penal Influence
Poland in the Context of Post-Colonialism
Ireland, Post-Colonial Remnants, and Social Change
Individualistic vs. Collectivist Societies
Conclusions
References
2 Development of Polish Criminal Law
Introduction
A Historical Development of Criminal Law in Poland
The Post-World War One Period
The World War Two and Post-World War Two Periods
Militarisation, a Lack of the Father Figure, and the Role of Females in the 1940s and 1950s
The Development of Polish Criminal Law Between 1943/1944 and 1989
The Militant Parent (1943/1944–1956)
An Inception of the Soviet Law in the PPR
The 1940s Decrees
An Influence of the 1940s Decrees
Other Legislation of the 1940s
The Death Penalty in the Polish Legal System of the 1940s
The Parent Figure (De-Militarisation) Period (1956–1976)
The Polish Thaw
Parental Failure (Ultra-Militarisation) Period (1976–1989)
The 1981 Decrees
Leadership in the Polish People’s Republic
A Polish Political Leadership in the Twentieth Century
The Duality of the Political Leadership System (Partisan and Public)
Conclusions
References
3 Ireland, Church, and Emergency Legislation
Introduction
The Development of the Criminal Law in Ireland
Law in Twentieth-Century Ireland
Emergency Legislation
Emergency Powers and the State of Exception
The Special Criminal Court
The Military Court
The Duality of the Irish Criminal Law
Normalising Emergency Laws
The Catholic Church in Ireland and Poland
The Catholic Church in Ireland
The State and Church
Ireland and the Militarisation of Behaviours
Social Compliance, Dehumanisation, and Othering
State, Authority, and Conflict
Censorship
Introduction to Social Control in Ireland
Coercive Confinement
Coercive Confinement, Families, and Economy
The State as a Substitute Parent in Ireland
Conclusions
References
4 Subduing a Nation Through Military Influences (Militarisation and Demilitarisation)
Introduction
General Comments
Military (Historical Overview)
Military—General Comments
Historical Legacies of Military
Military Influence
Military Culture
The Rise of Military Professionalism
War as an Instrument of Social Control
The Soldier-Symbol
A Citizen-Soldier
Concluding Remarks
Militarisation and Militarism
Militarism
Militarisation
Militarisation and Development
Militarisation and Education
Militarisation of a Third Level Education
Militarisation by Other Means and Gendered Militarisation
Parallels Between Different Concepts Relating to (De)Militarisation
Demilitarisation
Police and Military—Interlinks
Securitisation and Moral Panics
Introduction
Moral Panics and Securitisation—The Concepts
Evaluation of Moral Panics
Securitisation
Blurring Lines
Moral Panics, Securitisation, Moments of Significance, and the Militarisation of Behaviours
Conclusions
Criticism of Militarisation and Securitisation
Critiques of Militarisation and Other Relevant Concepts
Concluding Remarks
References
5 Elements of the Militarisation of Behaviours
Introduction
General Comments
Bureaucracy and the Bureaucratic Structure
The State as a Substitute Parent (The Institutional Substitute for Parents)
Bureaucracy and the State’s Violence
Militant Trade Unionism and Social Machinery
Social Drill (Social Conditioning), Educational System, and Nationalism
Propaganda
Daily Indoctrination—Turbo’s Dorosłe Dzieci
Fear-Mongering
Social Differentiation, Dehumanisation, and Otherness
Promoting Social Compliance
Homogeneity and Social Compliance
Indifference
Desensitisation and Disenchantment
Suspension in Time and Space (Chronotopes)
Military Language (and Culture)
The State of Exception and Emergency Legislation
Norms and Legal Systems
Surveillance
Professionals, Professions, and Professionalisation as Forms of State Control
The Militarisation of the Public Sphere
Normalising the Militarisation of Behaviours
Conclusions
References
6 Conclusions and Recommendations
Introduction
The Militarisation of Behaviours
Early Signs of the Militarisation of Behaviours in Poland
Warning Signs
The Normalisation of the Militarisation of the State
Adjustment to Military-like Life
Soldiers’ Nostalgia, Commonality, and Social Control
Limitations
External and Internal Reasons for Employing the Militarisation of Behaviours
A Different Point of View
Conclusions
The Militarisation of Behaviours in Ireland
The Militarisation of Behaviours and Globalisation in the Contemporary Context
Propaganda, Disinformation, and the Militarisation of Information
Recommendations
Final Remarks
References
Glossary of Terms
References
Index

Citation preview

CRITICAL CRIMINOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES

The Militarisation of Behaviours Social Control and Surveillance in Poland and Ireland Błażej Kaucz

Critical Criminological Perspectives

Series Editors Reece Walters, Faculty of Law, Deakin University, Burwood, VIC, Australia Deborah H. Drake, Department of Social Policy & Criminology, The Open University, Milton Keynes, UK

The Palgrave Critical Criminological Perspectives book series aims to showcase the importance of critical criminological thinking when examining problems of crime, social harm and criminal and social justice. Critical perspectives have been instrumental in creating new research agendas and areas of criminological interest. By challenging state defined concepts of crime and rejecting positive analyses of criminality, critical criminological approaches continually push the boundaries and scope of criminology, creating new areas of focus and developing new ways of thinking about, and responding to, issues of social concern at local, national and global levels. Recent years have witnessed a flourishing of critical criminological narratives and this series seeks to capture the original and innovative ways that these discourses are engaging with contemporary issues of crime and justice. For further information on the series and to submit a proposal for consideration, please get in touch with the Editor: Josephine Taylor, [email protected].

Bła˙zej Kaucz

The Militarisation of Behaviours Social Control and Surveillance in Poland and Ireland

Bła˙zej Kaucz University College Cork Cork, Ireland

ISSN 2731-0604 ISSN 2731-0612 (electronic) Critical Criminological Perspectives ISBN 978-3-031-16600-6 ISBN 978-3-031-16601-3 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Preface

It was a satisfying experience to write this book. Before we discuss the theoretical assumptions of it, I would like to briefly consider an entire research journey which led me to the point of writing it. This monograph is based on my Ph.D. dissertation and research carried out as part of my Ph.D. project. Foucault (2002) exemplified that history does not always follow a specific path (of a certain development). The same can be ascertained regarding the research which acted as the basis for this book. Initially, the project began in a different form relating to the sociology of emotions and later to courtroom interactions and the sociology of professions. The initial idea was to study interactions, conversations, and emotions that appear during and between criminal trials (within courtrooms and courthouses). As much as the idea of such a project was remarkably interesting and ambitious, it became unfeasible when I could not secure funding for it. At this point, the project was re-evaluated, and the main interests shifted towards the sociology of professions and the role professionals play in influencing social and legal conditions. During that time as a result of that interest, I wrote an article ‘Legal Professions’ (Kaucz,

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2016). In it, I am discussing the function of the unity of legal professions to their long-term sustainment. Then, I encountered the concept of guilty knowledge presented in the work of Dingwall and Lewis (1983). Also, during that second stage of this project, I focused more on the role, usefulness, social function, and practices relating to legal textbooks. At this point, I realised the importance of textbooks to the formation of (legal) professions. Altogether, that led to me the formulation of the basis, theoretical assumptions, and connections between initial concepts discussed in my Ph.D. thesis. Thus, theoretical assumptions were established amongst the role of the most prominent criminal law textbooks (in Ireland and Poland) and connections between guilty knowledge, hidden curriculum, professionals, textbooks, and moments of significance. The concept of guilty knowledge relates to the idea that professionals must obtain specific knowledge (for a trustworthy performance of their professional duties), but they should not share it with anyone outside of that profession. That professional capacity can be attained when a person is subjected to specific professional circumstances, training, and apprenticeship. While a person is gaining the ins and outs of a specific profession, they are exposed to a specific curriculum which consists of the manifest (formal) and hidden curriculum. The hidden curriculum is learned through informal interactions with other professionals and comprises unofficial values and information. It should be communicated to would-be-professionals. A part of that knowledge relates to information on the development of that profession and moments in time which shaped it. These moments were branded by the author as moments of significance. Moments of significance are an umbrella term encompassing over two dozen concepts discussed over the years by different academics and relating to the importance of time to social development. That said, when it comes to the development of (legal) professions in certain countries, moments of significance in that development are shared and conveyed from one generation of (legal) professionals to the next using (legal) textbooks. Thus, criminal law textbooks played an essential role in the initial stages of this research. Textbooks are written by experienced professionals and experts in their relevant fields. Authors of textbooks are those who own knowledge of moments of significance, and who might, due to their background, be able to share some of it with

Preface

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future professionals. By doing so, it would strengthen their professional standing and social capital associated with it. On that basis, authors of (legal) textbooks can communicate that information to professional newbies. On a side note, the above is also relevant when it comes to other non-legal professions and textbooks. Based on the above, I focused on the ways in which legal textbooks affect the development of the legal professions and the entire legal system. Then, textbooks on criminal law in Ireland and Poland were used as data for that study. The legal textbooks which were investigated are interesting and rich writings holding relevant information on social and legal development. The importance of the (legal) textbooks was shown in the context of an interplay between these textbooks, legal professionals, guilty knowledge, and the process of (professional) socialisation. While studying these most prominent Polish legal textbooks, two patterns have emerged. One pattern relates to a consistent reference to several decrees issued by officials of the Polish People’s Republic which formed the basis for a consideration of the process of the militarisation of behaviours, and which will be discussed in this book. I noticed that there was, amongst other relevant information, a direct and repeatedly signalled reference to specific legislation enacted, or rather enforced, in the 1940s. That legislation, together with a few other pieces of legislation from the 1980s, was imposed to subdue citizens during times of weakness of the state. That inspired me eventually to formulate a hypothesis that people were subdued by the state by means of continuous militarisation of the public sphere. That, then, led me to a conceptualisation of the militarisation of behaviours as a process through which the state subjugated its citizens. The second pattern was associated with the way organised crime legislation was treated as non-existent before 1989 in Communist Poland. That topic was discussed and published in a separate paper (Kaucz, 2019). The emergence of organised crime in the Polish People’s Republic is even more obvious when it is discussed in conjunction with the process of the militarisation of behaviours, as both rest on the state’s monopoly on violence and both resonate well together. I assumed that, based on the above connections, this project would be a comparative one, as at this point it looked at the social and legal situation in Poland and Ireland through the lenses of the most prominent

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legal textbooks. Nonetheless, in early 2018, as part of the progress review, I was encouraged to focus only on the Polish side of the project due to the degree and quality of the gathered and processed material. Then, the study of Polish textbooks was much more advanced. In its final form, this monograph mirrors the original (comparative) structure of my doctoral dissertation that I once intended. Thus, I am more than happy to be able to reintroduce it as part of this monograph. Life is full of unexpected situations, ironies, and paradoxes. One of these situations is that my doctoral journey began in 2013. One of the first activities as part of that programme was to attend the Theory & Philosophy Summer School (TPSS) at the Blackcastle in Castletownroche. We moved nearby that Castle in 2021. It was around the same time when it was decided that the Economy and Society Summer School (which replaced TPSS in 2014) would be moved to Cork. Anyway, when I am writing these words, I am only a walking distance from that place that was distant to me at the time, but thanks to the people I met there it managed to shape my academic career and prospects. Castletownroche, Ireland

Bła˙zej Kaucz

References Dingwall, R., & Lewis, P. S. C. (Eds.). (1983). The sociology of the professions: Lawyers, doctors, and others (1st ed.). SSRC. Foucault, M. (2002). Archaeology of knowledge. Routledge. Kaucz, B. (2016). Legal professions—Studia Sociologica VIII (2016) vol. 2, Criminology and social disorganization in the globalised world—Theoretical and practical aspects. Kaucz, B. (2019). Organised crime in Poland—A missing link. Studia Sociologica XI (2019) vol. 2, From the crime of the powerful to the single crime in a modern world—Global criminology and social disorganisation, 11(2), 35–47. https://doi.org/10.24917/20816642.11.2.1

Acknowledgements

Many individuals supported me over the course of my Ph.D. and while preparing this book. First of all, I would like to express my gratitude to my former Ph.D. supervisors Professor Colin Sumner, Dr. James Windle, and Professor Árpád Szakolczai. I will always be grateful to Professor Colin Sumner for his decision to take my project on board. I am sure Colin might have regretted that decision on a few occasions. Besides supporting me and my project, Colin encouraged my teaching efforts. I am also grateful to Patricia Sumner, Colin’s wife. Pat always offered me moral and intellectual support. Dr. James Windle was supportive and generous with his time and advice. Also, James was there for me in a time of transition and helped me in the last few months of my Ph.D. project in bringing clarity to the structure of my work. Similarly, I am indebted to Professor Árpád Szakolczai, particularly for his endorsement and support at the end of my project. Importantly, I enjoyed every conversation I had with Árpád. I owe a great deal of debt to Dr. Edel Hughes, Dr. Ray Griffin, and Professor Kieran Keohane for improving the quality and clarity of a

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section of this book which rests on my Ph.D. thesis and for having an engaging and detailed conversation on my project during my viva voce. Also, I want to acknowledge everyone working in the Boole Library, University College Cork. Moreover, I am indebted to my students for being inspiring and challenging (some being like that at exactly the same time). A Ph.D. journey can be a lonely one. On that note, I would like to thank my fellow Ph.D. students for staying in touch and creating a great network of support and encouragement. Many thanks to Dr. Amin Sharifi, Martin Dorgan, Barry O’Reilly, Steven Robinson, Dr. Jesenko Tesan, Dr. Trish McGrath, Dr. Annie Cummins McNamara, Dr. Graham Cambridge, Dr. Alan Cusack, Janos Szakolczai, Federica Montagni, Yasmine Ahmed, and Bridgette Carey. Also, I want to mention here, my friend from Poland. For as long as I can remember, they offered me so much support, these are Izabela Gajda, Jacek Gajda, Agnieszka Wdowiak, Kuba Wdowiak, Dominika D˛ebiec, and Dobrosław Wo´zniak. Additionally, I would like to express my deepest thanks to Josie Taylor, Ashwini Elango, Estelle Rigaud, and Shubham Chavan from Palgrave Macmillan, and the series editors, Professor Reece Walters, and Dr. Deborah Drake, for offering assistance in publishing this book. I would like to pay my special regards to the staff at the Department of Haematology, Cork University Hospital. Thanks to their expertise, professionalism, and dedication, I had a chance to write this book. Since day one of my journey at University College Cork, I met a lot of inspirational people at UCC and outside of it. I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to the Mazur Family (Agnieszka, Czarek, Anastazja, and Ryszard) for being inspiring and supportive. My sincere thanks also go to Dr. Ann Murray, Szymon Urba´nski, Nidal Azzam, Martin O’Connor, and William Ruane. The same goes for friends from the UK, Agnieszka Nadzieja and James O’Donnell. Their continuous encouragement and reassurance are overwhelming. Subsequent thanks are due to Professor Krzysztof Czekaj and Magdalena Szybowska for their friendship, continuous assistance, confidence in me, and for being part of their family.

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Finally, the most special thanks go to members of my family: my parents, Teresa and Adam; my brother, Mateusz, my sister-in-law, Anna, and their children, Antoni and Zosia; my wife, Ola, and our son Franciszek (Franio). All of them encouraged my academic pursuits over the years, and without them, I would not be able to do it. Over the years, my parents offered unconditional love and support allowing me to devote myself to learning and teaching. Since we are together, Ola supported me daily, offered love, and encouraged me to write and finish this book. Whereas Franio as a toddler often accompanied me at my desk when I was reviewing and editing the final versions of this book. We both enjoyed these precious moments. No doubt, on many of these occasions, Franio was testing, questioning, and challenging my deficits in multitasking. Overall, I am grateful to my family for their continuous love, reassurance, support, faith in me, and for surviving having to deal with my project for so long. Thank you.

About This Book

This study illustrates the role of the relevant Irish and Polish legislation relating to social and legal development, and how it led to the introduction of the process of the militarisation of behaviours. This is a mass process of social control employed by the state (and less often by nonstate entities) where civilians are subjected to a treatment similar to that designed for soldiers. When this process is employed, it leads sections of a society to be restrained. As a result, the militarisation of behaviours is a powerful mechanism of social control responsible for subduing citizens to the will of state officials. It consists of several elements which were discussed here and which broadly relate to bureaucracy, propaganda, chronotopes, military language and culture, emergency legislation, surveillance, professionalisation, and militarisation into the public sphere of life. The militarisation of behaviours aims to create a level of uniformity in society, dependency on the state, and obedience. It rests on mechanisms of social control, for example, on varying forms of panopticism and discipline (like the social drill). A section of this book is devoted to recreating comprehensively how this process was employed in Poland and Ireland. Chapters on Poland and Ireland are used to explain how

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About This Book

some legislative changes were implemented and the reasons behind them. These also demonstrate how states can influence their citizens. To fully appreciate the complexity of this process, some of its layers and concepts which are in its background were discussed and explained. As a result, this book explores the value of theory relating to social harms, social justice, and crime and control in the context of the militarisation of behaviours. Focusing on the practical implementation of that process, state-sanctioned violence and interference created barriers to freedom and led to what we might view as crimes of the powerful.

Contents

1

Introduction Introduction Poland and Ireland Colonial History and Experience Poland, Post-Colonialism, and Post-Soviet Penal Influence Poland in the Context of Post-Colonialism Ireland, Post-Colonial Remnants, and Social Change Individualistic vs. Collectivist Societies Conclusions References

1 1 4 5 6 8 8 10 12 13

2

Development of Polish Criminal Law Introduction A Historical Development of Criminal Law in Poland The Post-World War One Period The World War Two and Post-World War Two Periods Militarisation, a Lack of the Father Figure, and the Role of Females in the 1940s and 1950s

17 17 18 20 22 28

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Contents

The Development of Polish Criminal Law Between 1943/1944 and 1989 The Militant Parent (1943/1944–1956) An Inception of the Soviet Law in the PPR The 1940s Decrees An Influence of the 1940s Decrees Other Legislation of the 1940s The Death Penalty in the Polish Legal System of the 1940s The Parent Figure (De-Militarisation) Period (1956–1976) The Polish Thaw Parental Failure (Ultra-Militarisation) Period (1976–1989) The 1981 Decrees Leadership in the Polish People’s Republic A Polish Political Leadership in the Twentieth Century The Duality of the Political Leadership System (Partisan and Public) Conclusions References 3

Ireland, Church, and Emergency Legislation Introduction The Development of the Criminal Law in Ireland Law in Twentieth-Century Ireland Emergency Legislation Emergency Powers and the State of Exception The Special Criminal Court The Military Court The Duality of the Irish Criminal Law Normalising Emergency Laws The Catholic Church in Ireland and Poland The Catholic Church in Ireland The State and Church Ireland and the Militarisation of Behaviours

29 30 30 33 38 41 43 44 44 49 50 53 56 58 59 63 69 69 71 73 75 79 83 84 85 86 88 88 91 92

Contents

Social Compliance, Dehumanisation, and Othering State, Authority, and Conflict Censorship Introduction to Social Control in Ireland Coercive Confinement Coercive Confinement, Families, and Economy The State as a Substitute Parent in Ireland Conclusions References 4

Subduing a Nation Through Military Influences (Militarisation and Demilitarisation) Introduction General Comments Military (Historical Overview) Military—General Comments Historical Legacies of Military Military Influence Military Culture The Rise of Military Professionalism War as an Instrument of Social Control The Soldier-Symbol A Citizen-Soldier Concluding Remarks Militarisation and Militarism Militarism Militarisation Militarisation and Development Militarisation and Education Militarisation of a Third Level Education Militarisation by Other Means and Gendered Militarisation Parallels Between Different Concepts Relating to (De)Militarisation Demilitarisation Police and Military—Interlinks

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92 94 96 99 100 106 107 109 115 123 123 124 125 126 127 131 134 137 138 139 141 144 144 145 147 149 150 153 154 156 159 161

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Contents

Securitisation and Moral Panics Introduction Moral Panics and Securitisation—The Concepts Evaluation of Moral Panics Securitisation Blurring Lines Moral Panics, Securitisation, Moments of Significance, and the Militarisation of Behaviours Conclusions Criticism of Militarisation and Securitisation Critiques of Militarisation and Other Relevant Concepts Concluding Remarks References

163 163 163 165 169 171

Elements of the Militarisation of Behaviours Introduction General Comments Bureaucracy and the Bureaucratic Structure The State as a Substitute Parent (The Institutional Substitute for Parents) Bureaucracy and the State’s Violence Militant Trade Unionism and Social Machinery Social Drill (Social Conditioning), Educational System, and Nationalism Propaganda Daily Indoctrination—Turbo’s Dorosłe Dzieci Fear-Mongering Social Differentiation, Dehumanisation, and Otherness Promoting Social Compliance Homogeneity and Social Compliance Indifference Desensitisation and Disenchantment Suspension in Time and Space (Chronotopes) Military Language (and Culture) The State of Exception and Emergency Legislation

187 187 188 189

174 177 177 179 180 181

191 194 197 200 205 208 209 210 213 214 215 216 217 220 227

Contents

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Norms and Legal Systems Surveillance Professionals, Professions, and Professionalisation as Forms of State Control The Militarisation of the Public Sphere Normalising the Militarisation of Behaviours Conclusions References

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Conclusions and Recommendations Introduction The Militarisation of Behaviours Early Signs of the Militarisation of Behaviours in Poland Warning Signs The Normalisation of the Militarisation of the State Adjustment to Military-like Life Soldiers’ Nostalgia, Commonality, and Social Control Limitations External and Internal Reasons for Employing the Militarisation of Behaviours A Different Point of View Conclusions The Militarisation of Behaviours in Ireland The Militarisation of Behaviours and Globalisation in the Contemporary Context Propaganda, Disinformation, and the Militarisation of Information Recommendations Final Remarks References

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234 238 243 247 248

260 263 264 265 266 270 271 271 273 275 276 277 279 281 282

Glossary of Terms

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References

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Index

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About the Author

Bła˙zej Kaucz is a researcher in criminology and socio-legal studies. He completed a Ph.D. in criminology in the Department of Sociology and Criminology at University College Cork, Ireland. Bła˙zej is also a holder of law degrees (LL.M., LL.B.) from Wroclaw University, Poland and he is a passionate educator and confident presenter. Taught several modules at University College Cork covering topics of criminological and sociological theory associated with social control, law and development, critical criminology, crime, criminalisation, penology, the criminal justice system, and sociology of community. Bła˙zej’s research interests revolve around the interplay between the visible and hidden elements of social life, amongst them a newly formulated concept of militarisation of behaviours and more established concepts of the hidden curriculum, guilty knowledge, professionalisation, criminal justice system and organised crime.

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List of Figures

Fig. 5.1 Fig. 5.2

The process of the militarisation of behaviours The aims of the militarisation of behaviours

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1 Introduction

Introduction Power has many facets. It can be exercised when trying to influence others. That way, social control can be attained by various means, for example, through the process of the militarisation of behaviours. The militarisation of behaviours is a process utilised by the state when its citizens are treated by that state in a manner resembling the way the army relates to its soldiers. In other words, the militarisation of behaviours is employed to subdue a society or a part of it (or a group in the case of organisations). It is done similarly to the military regulating, restraining, and governing its soldiers. Consequently, the militarisation of behaviours is a (mass) process of social control1 where the state exercises its powers over the population. This process consists of parallel forms (tools) of social control and is responsible for blurring the boundaries between a 1

Pieter Spierenburg (2004) provides a comprehensive literature review in the subject of social control. As part of that review, he discussed Joseph Slabey Rouˇcek’s view on social control which boils down to “attempts to influence others” (Rouˇcek, 1947 quoted in Spierenburg, 2004: 5). Spierenburg sees social control as a near universal key to understanding violence, conflict, and everything to do with social norms (how these are formed and accepted).

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3_1

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B. Kaucz

dichotomous divide between civilian and military life. The militarisation of behaviours, as a concept, acts as an overarching structure for several social theories. A special emphasis is paid to Ireland and Poland since these two countries exemplify how the process was employed. As a result, this book creates a framework for the socio-legal and historical study of tools of social control. The research which this book is based on showed that several concepts are interlinked and can form the basis for an interesting examination. The initial enquiry into the historical development through the prism of legal textbooks led me to note the existence of the process of the militarisation of behaviours, which became noticeable on a closer examination of the role and evolution of decrees in the Polish People’s Republic (PPR). Then, I studied the historical development of the Polish and Irish criminal justice system (and criminal law) along with the influence of the process of the militarisation of behaviours on that development. As a result, this book is showcasing two historical accounts of states utilising the process of the militarisation of behaviours. History is important as it offers a lesson about past mistakes. Only if we decide to attune ourselves to these, we might be in a better position to make learned decisions in the future. Some states and their officials might find social control processes as an attractive option to subdue their citizens. Therefore, I wanted to present the centrality of the militarisation of behaviours as a social process via relevant and known theories. This book also illustrates the historical development of the state’s tools of social control embedded in Polish and Irish legislation. It brings clarity and creates a context as to how some of the contemporary social theories are used. An extra layer of the rationale was added to explain why some states might want to employ tools of social control, like, bureaucracy (and the bureaucratic structure); propaganda, professionalisation; soft and hard law; military language and culture; surveillance and securitisation; militarisation of the public sphere; and the normalisation of all the above leading to the implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. In addition, I contextualised social drill within Polish and Irish twentieth-century history. Besides, I questioned the role of military and political leadership in Communist Poland and reconstructed an imperfect historical overview of the

1 Introduction

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military role and influence (including military leadership) in some European societies. I uncovered how weak political leadership can lead to the militarisation of behaviours, and how the militarisation of behaviours is responsible for instilling military language and values into the public sphere. In this book, I tried to illustrate the existence and prominence of the concept of the state as a parent . Specifically, I highlighted here, how the state created conditions in which it could fulfil the parental role of child upbringing, and how it could incorporate some of its ideology into the school system. As the state created conditions (by preoccupying the remainder of the adult population) in which only that state was left to supervise children (for example, in Poland in the early days of the 1940s and 1950s and Ireland immediately after 1922). Then, there was no accountability of the state officials2 before parents, and the state could, without restriction, indoctrinate future generations of young citizens. While writing this book, I tried to move away from the beaten track of thinking about war and the development of legal systems, by shifting attention towards unappreciated covert social processes (like the militarisation of behaviours) which can shape and be shaped by legal development. I also drawn some attention to the role of the state and other entities in these processes. The subtlety of the process means that people subdued to it are having difficulty recognising it. It is employed in a phased manner, i.e., step by step. Any process that is employed in such a manner makes it harder to notice. The same goes for those people who might oppose the process, they might have difficulty recognising that it is not used anymore. An example of that is the well-known fantasy writer Stanisław Lem. It took Lem several years to realise that the enemy that he was fighting for decades was not there anymore (See Chapter 6). Furthermore, I am focusing more on the usefulness of the concept of the militarisation of behaviours and some elements of the military organisation of society (described by Stanislav Andreski [1998] one of the first monographs on the relationship between the military organisation and social structure, and the sociology of military organisation). I devoted 2 Also referred to as “the controllers … [that being] persons and groups who act upon other persons and groups” (Spierenburg, 2004 : 9).

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more attention to the historical elements of the influence of the military on states and their structures. By doing that, I am trying to show how the military force which was originally intended to conquer, expand, and protect that already assumed territory became a force which started to be used inwardly, towards its citizens to make them more obedient within the state’s boundaries. And how that allowed for military influence to enter the public sphere with the continuous support of the state, which became over time used also by other non-state actors.

Poland and Ireland Before we move on to further sections of this book, it will be beneficial to consider some basic information in relation to Poland and Ireland. Poland occupies eastern parts of the European Union, whereas Ireland is on the other, western side, of the European Union. Ireland and Poland share several commonalities. Both are European countries. More so, their culture and tradition were influenced by the Roman-Catholic culture. Both have a long history of foreign domination (Clancy et al., 1992: vii). Poland was in the Soviet sphere of influence between 1943 and 1990,3 whereas Ireland remained directly under British influence until 1922. In both countries, to a certain point in time, existed a keen sense of national identity to which Catholicism has made a significant contribution. The Catholic Church is equally a repository of some of the state and national identities of both Ireland and Poland (O’Dowd, 1992: 39). Ireland and Poland have a similar system of governance. Both have a President as a head of state that has mostly representational duties,4 however, in both states, they can veto legislation or challenge its constitutionality (by referring it to the Supreme Court in Ireland or the Constitutional Tribunal in Poland). Civil law remains the main source of law in Poland, whereas, Ireland is a common law legal jurisdiction.

3 Before that, between 1772 (since the First Polish Partition) until 1918, a part of the Polish territory remained under the Russian rule. 4 The office of President of Ireland replaced the Governor-General of the Irish Free State in 1937.

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Coincidently, in 1997 both states enacted important criminal legislation. Ireland passed the Criminal Law Act 1997,5 the Bail Act 1997, and the Non-Fatal Offences against the Person Act 19976 ; and Poland introduced the Criminal Code 1997, Criminal Procedure Code 1997, and Executive Criminal Code 1997.

Colonial History and Experience These two states offer a somewhat different path of how the militarisation of behaviours was used. In Poland, the state was a driver of the implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. That same state was under the influence of the Soviet Union which was imposing its rule in the satellite states that the Soviets considered as being in their sphere of influence. Whereas, in Ireland, the state cooperated with the Catholic Church to fully subdue its citizens. While comparing these two states from the historical perspective two separate labels arise. The first one is that Ireland is a post-colonial state, and the second one is that Poland is a post-soviet state (a former Soviet satellite state). The two sat in opposing spheres of influence. The former is influenced by the state labelled as representing the First World (the Western Bloc representing democratic countries), and the latter one as being subject to the state described as the Second World (the Communist Bloc representing Soviet socialism).7

5 It repealed the outdates legislation like the Garrotters Act 1863 and the Whipping Act 1862 (McDermott, 2007). 6 It codified self-defence and introduced harassment as a criminal offence (McDermott, 2007). 7 T. W. Rolleston noted originally in 1917 when both Poland and Ireland were still under the influence of foreign powers that “the peoples of these two countries were suffering the same kind of oppression, the same injustice, the same denial of the right of every man [sic!] to live and prosper in his own land on equal terms with his fellow-citizens in every other part of the realm” (Rolleston, 2016: 1).

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Poland, Post-Colonialism, and Post-Soviet Penal Influence Throughout the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, Poland was a subject of different forms of domination where its sovereignty was either non-existent or substantially limited (Mayblin et al., 2016). After WWII, most Polish people became attuned to the all-too-well-known combination of words like: ‘the people’s democracy’ or ‘the socialistic democracy’ (Zieli´nski, 2003) which supposedly described a level of freedom in the Polish People’s Republic (an official name of Communist Poland). Those phrases which sound like oxymorons were repeated mostly by the government-steered mass media. Gidy´nski (1974) talks about the ‘limited sovereignty’ and the ‘limited right of self-determination’ of the socialist states (including PPR) which was devised by the Soviet columnist Sergey Kovalev in defence of an armed invasion of Czechoslovakia on the 20th of August 1968. That doctrine was called the Brezhnev Doctrine after Leonid Brezhnev (the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the USSR from 1964 to 1982). It offered a justification for any possible past and future intervention in the form of an invasion based on belonging to the communist sphere of influence. Similarly, the USSR claimed that it could impose its legislation (especially criminal law) on any state that decided to incorporate communism as its main ideology (Kładoczny, 2004). It was a way to introduce an unknown set of international law rules against basic principles of international law in a form of Socialist international law (Gidy´nski, 1974). The implementation of the militarisation of behaviours was carried out in the PPR via means of criminal law legislation (namely, decrees). Decrees were pseudo-legislative dispositions enacted with a violation of the existing law (separately in the 1940s and 1980s). The 1940s and 1980s decrees issued by the PPR were responsible for the introduction of the militarisation of behaviours. These decrees were devised with the overwhelming help of and were controlled by the Secret Security of the USSR (known officially as the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs or more broadly the NKVD). Thus, the militarisation of behaviours

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as a sophisticated tool of social control incorporated into the Polish legislation was of a foreign origin. From the perspective of the state’s officials, decrees were useful tools used to control the Polish population. Decrees rested on the simplicity and harshness of wartime legislation. Most of these were issued during peacetime; nonetheless, decrees were responsible for the creation of warlike conditions and treatment of the Polish people. An implementation of the militarisation of behaviours meant that the nation and its citizens never fully transitioned out of the war, and the militarisation of their daily lives continued in the form of the militarisation of behaviours. Then, the only clear transition which occurred was from a more obvious use of soft law towards hard law. That was a result of the 1940s and 1950s transition from counterrevolutionary to anti-state crimes, and from a non-binding law to binding law. Also, of importance was that the Soviets made a successful attempt to take over Polish territory by implementing a pseudo-government consisting of Polish people to control the state. Kładoczny (2004) reminds us that it was done via the 1927 Criminal Code of Soviet Russia, and Art. 57 of that code allowed for the protection and support of any newly developed Soviet state outside of Soviet Russia. As part of the study of the development of Polish criminal law in the post-war era, I identified three separate periods associated with the state’s role in the upbringing and educating of its citizens. These are: (1) the militant parent period (from 1943/1994 up to 1956), (2) the father figure period (from 1956 up to 1976), and (3) the parental failure/disillusionment period (from 1976 up to 1989). The changes between these periods signal social transformations which affected the decision-making processes of the state officials. Then, the state institutions and leaders were attuned to the military modi operandi. That attitude allowed a gradual introduction of the process of the militarisation of behaviours (a treatment of citizens by their state in a manner resembling a treatment of soldiers by the army) on a mass scale, with different intensities depending on the social situation during the periods outlined above.

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Poland in the Context of Post-Colonialism Mayblin et al. (2016) are of the view that in discussing Easter European states, it is more adequate to relate to Soviet imperialism rather than colonialism. It is not a game of words, but a more suitable appropriation in relation to the actual processes. Obviously, both colonialism and imperialism (as terminology) do overlap. Nonetheless, there are some distinctive features differentiating the two. What is important to the context of this research, in the last few years a substantial number of Polish academics started to realise that the post-colonial theory might be somewhat relevant in the settings of the Polish People’s Republic. The two main aspects of that theory which are the most discussed can be labelled as ‘comparative empires’ and ‘theoretical insights’ (Mayblin et al., 2016: 62). The former perspective views the Polish situation in the context of being colonised by Soviet Russia, and as such the biggest problem is “the question of whether the ambition of world socialism ‘counts’ as colonialism, and the local articulations of the relationship” (Mayblin et al., 2016: 62). That on its own and with an addition of few other minor problems, makes the usage of the concept somewhat problematic. On that note, one of the biggest issues one might have is the common generalisation and subsumption of the European continent into one unified whole. In order to broaden the post-colonialism overview of Poland, Mayblin et al., (2016: 63) propose a triple relation paradigm (they also relate to it as ‘three axes’ which operate in parallel) where Poland is being viewed from three distinct perspectives, namely, in relation to (1) Russia; (2) ‘the West’ (as ‘an alternative ideological hegemon’) and the discourse around western superiority, and to (3) Eastern and Third World ‘Others’.

Ireland, Post-Colonial Remnants, and Social Change Ireland since the Partition in 1922 struggled with its post-colonial past. Similarly to the Second Polish Republic (1918–1939), Ireland retained initially the legislative inheritance from the United Kingdom (Kilcommins et al., 2004). The Troubles (1968–1998) are also an example of

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the remnants of that colonial past. This conflict increased the level of armed crime on the Island of Ireland and resulted in inflated prison rates. Between the 1920s and 2009, the number of prisoners to those coercively confined in Ireland changed substantially (from the proportion of one to forty to around half of the whole population remanded in custody) (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). Even prior to the Troubles, Irish society was divided along sectarian lines both geographically and mentally (Hourigan et al., 2017). Whereas, nowadays, the Catholic Church, and other traditional sources of authority, lost their sway on the Irish population, especially concerning the control of education and sexual morality. As a result, the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution Act 19728 was introduced on the 5th of January 1973 which removed from the Constitution any reference to the special position of the Catholic Church and the recognition of other named religious denominations (Bacik, 2004). Globalisation and social changes brought about during the ‘Celtic Tiger’ perpetuate the erosion of traditional forms of social control based on morality and theology. However, the Irish legal system is referencing itself in relation to the UK legislation. Considering that, in version 13 of the Classified List of Legislation in Force in Ireland, the Law Reform Commission, in the context of the emergency legislation, notes that any legislation that has not yet been rescinded, ceased, or expired should be revoked as a matter of good practice (Law Reform Commission, 2016). O’Mahony (2007) accentuates a positive input made by the Irish judges who are tempering the political agenda using the vagueness of the constitutional provisions (especially regarding special and emergency powers). Judges, in his view, are opposing ever more repressive measures introduced by the politicians and which undercut civil liberties. At the same time, O’Mahony notes that Ireland lacks an effective control mechanism within the criminal justice system against false admissions and miscarriages of justice.

8

The Irish Constitution can be amended only as a result of the nationwide referendum.

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Individualistic vs. Collectivist Societies The additional layer of information which might assist in discussing Ireland and Poland is that these two countries support individualism, self-determinism, and individual agency. In other words, individuals are praised or blamed for their actions. Individual people are not going to be blamed for advancing their life. Consideration is given not to harm others, their community, and society. It is in contrast with countries that promote cooperation as a primary mode of existence where community and society take precedence over an individual. In these societies, for example, in China, individuals must consider society first over their personal needs and that ideology is instilled throughout the educational process. That difference in priorities might seem subtle but it has a wideranging consequence since it is harder to persuade people to subdue themselves to the state’s will in societies where an individual is empowered to be their own agent of change. As a result, it is so much harder to effectively introduce tools of social control in places where culture promotes individualism. Considering the content of this book, I sought to describe: (1) how the process of the militarisation of behaviours was discovered; (2) some historical military influences leading towards the process of the militarisation of behaviours; (3) how over five decades of twentieth-century legislation was used in Communist Poland to employ the process of the militarisation of behaviours; (4) the impact of the (emergency) legislation on the introduction of the militarisation of behaviours in the Republic of Ireland; (5) elements consisting of the process itself; and (6) some other examples of the implementation of that process in several contemporary states. Chapters 2 and 3 provide a detailed discussion on the instruments which were used to introduce the militarisation of behaviours respectively in Poland and Ireland. It is vital to dive deep into these discussions to see how profound the process is and how vigorously it was employed in these two states. Both states imposed the militarisation of behaviours using somewhat different social and legal instruments. As a result, both chapters present historical contexts and explain why some legislative changes took place and consider the reasons behind these. To be able

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to discuss the explanatory and practical elements of the process of the militarisation of behaviours, first, we need to consider the normative systems that were used to establish that process. The value of these two accounts placed together in one book lies in the fact that the readers have an opportunity to consider various pathways which might lead to an imposition of the militarisation of behaviours. The presentation of these geographical and historical conditions is important to be able to appreciate the centrality of the process and its potential application in other geopolitical situations. These two chapters also act as a reminder of how complex the legal landscape can be and how many options can become available to the state officials looking to introduce a social change irrespective of their motivation. In both cases, the criminal law which in principle should be used to promote and dispense justice was treated by the state officials as an instrument of social control employed to subdue citizens. In creating a monopoly of power, these two states sanctioned some level of violence and coercion towards their citizens and created barriers to freedom. Political power can be displayed in many forms and the argument can be made that these actions of the state officials fulfilled the characteristics associated with crimes of the powerful. By presenting a historical context to these occurrences, I tried to provide examples of what happens when crime and control go askew, for example, when the state is employing internment (in conditions of the emergency laws In Ireland or martial law in Poland). At the same time, I attempted to challenge the role of the political leadership and other sources of authority to achieve these state goals and highlight the gender dimension to the implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. Chapter 4 is probably the most theory-packed one. It offers exhaustive discussions on, and critiques of, the concepts of militarism, militarisation, demilitarisation, securitisation, and moral panics. I considered these in the context of the relevant historical traces of the military and the blurring of the civil-military divide. The importance of that chapter rests on the fact that it is a near impossible task to accurately assess how the military permeated the civil sphere of life without considering the subtleties of how that happened both from a practical and theoretical point of view. The militarisation of behaviours usually occurs over extended periods of

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time, and as such, it can be difficult to observe due to its subtlety. This is why it is important to observe and note changes happening in that sphere of life which relate to that process. Chapter 5 is devoted entirely to the elements of the process of the militarisation of behaviours. The militarisation of behaviours is a broad social control measure which can create social harm and hinder processes associated with social justice. In this chapter, I demonstrated how complex and multi-layered it is. Not all of its elements need to be employed for the behaviours of people to be militarised. Only some of these elements (namely, the legal system including emergency legislation, legal professionals, bureaucracy, and surveillance) are connected with the state’s system of crime and control. Overall, this chapter exhibits ways in which some of these social instruments were employed and offers insights into these problems. Finally, in Chapter 6, I combined historical and contemporary information which readers might find relevant in establishing the early signs of the militarisation of behaviours. Knowing how harmful this process is to people subdued to it, I consider some contemporary examples of the militarisation of behaviours. Besides, I included future-orientated recommendations to do with the process itself. Without questioning power and the status quo we are unable to ravage the structures of domination responsible for the normalisation of the process of the militarisation of behaviours. It is also important to consider and critique these social instruments to question power, domination, and the status quo.

Conclusions One of the ideas behind this book is to produce probable scenarios where some of the historically embedded influences occurred. It is done in that way rather than describing authoritatively that some of these processes occur in a specified manner. In other words, the provided examples of military influences occurred but not necessarily influenced everyone and every society at the same time. When making theoretical assumptions and when discussing the ’grand theories’ (Mills, 1967), some authors have a propensity to conclude that their theories are equally applicable

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to all circumstances. Here, I tried to employ an analysis that is historically informed (Czekaj, 2007; Holyst, 2022; O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020). History is not fully linear as some want to assume. The described examples are provided to make the argument stronger and the historical military influences more credible and compelling. Any inconsistencies in the text are my own fault. When it comes to considering our mistakes and biases, we are also reminded by Adey et al. (2016) that every researcher is a militarised subject and their writing might be influenced by that fact. A wide range of social institutions can influence groups of people (Spierenburg, 2004). Considering that, here, I focused primarily on how states and state officials try to influence behaviours. I hope that this book will function as a great reminder of how we, as citizens, should hold those in charge accountable. Due to the scope of this monograph, I focused primarily on the state activity in that space. There are, however, some early indicators that the process of the militarisation of behaviours is being used contemporarily by non-state actors. I aspired that this book would increase awareness around the issues of militarism, securitisation, and militarisation occurring within the public sphere; and that it will increase people’s alertness to the process of the militarisation of behaviours.

References Adey, P., Denney, D., Jensen, R., & Pinkerton, A. (2016). Blurred lines: Intimacy, mobility, and the social military. Critical Military Studies, 2(1–2), 7–24. https://doi.org/10.1080/23337486.2016.1148281 Andreski, S. (1998). Military organization and society. Routledge. http://public. eblib.com/choice/publicfullrecord.aspx?p=1356056. Accessed 14 June 2018. Bacik, I. (2004). Kicking and screaming: Dragging Ireland into the 21st century. O’Brien. Clancy, P., Kelly, M., Wiatr, J., & Zoltaniecki, R. (Eds.). (1992). Ireland and Poland: Comparative perspectives. University College Dublin.

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Czekaj, K. (2007). Socjologia Szkoły Chicagowskiej i jej recepcja w Polsce [The Sociology of the Chicago School and its Reception in Poland], Górno´sl˛aska Wy˙zsza Szkoła Handlowa im. Wojciecha Korfantego. Gidy´nski, J. C. (1974). Socialist international law. The Polish Review, 19 (3/4), 123–142. Holyst, B. (2022). Kryminologia [Criminology]. Wolters Kluwer. Hourigan, N., Morrison, J. F., Windle, J., & Silke, A. (2017). Crime in Ireland North and South: Feuding gangs and profiteering paramilitaries. Trends in Organized Crime. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12117-017-9312-9 Kilcommins, S., O’Donnell, I., O’Sullivan, E., & Vaughan, B. (2004). Crime, punishment, and the search for order in Ireland . Institute of Public Administration. Kładoczny, P. (2004). Prawo jako narz˛edzie represji w Polsce Ludowej (1944– 1956): prawna analiza kategorii przest˛epstw przeciwko pa´nstwu [Law as a Tool of Repression in PPR (1944–1956): Legal Analysis of Crimes Against the ´ State]. Warszawa: Instytut Pami˛eci Narodowej—Komisja Scigania Zbrodni przeciwko Narodowi Polskiemu. Law Reform Commission. (2016). Classified list of legislation in force in Ireland: (No. Version 13) (p. 953). The Law Reform Commission. https://www.law reform.ie/_fileupload/Classified_List/Class%20List%20of%20Acts%20w ith%20SIs%20v%2013.pdf#page=230. Accessed 17 January 2022. Mayblin, L., Piekut, A., & Valentine, G. (2016). ‘Other’ posts in ‘Other’ places: Poland through a postcolonial lens. Sociology, 50 (1), 60–76. https:// doi.org/10.1177/0038038514556796 McDermott, P. A. (2007). The legal frameowrk of the criminal law. In P. O’Mahony (Ed.), Criminal justice in Ireland (pp. 11–41). Institute of Public Administration. Mills, C. W. (1967). The sociological imagination. Oxford University Press. O’Donnell, I., & O’Sullivan, E. (2020). ‘Coercive confinement’: An idea whose time has come? Incarceration, 1(1), https://doi.org/10.1177/263266632093 6440 O’Dowd, L. (1992). State legitimacy and nationalism in Ireland. In P. Clancy, S. Drudy, K. Lynch, & L. O’Dowd (Eds.), Ireland: A sociological profile (pp. 25–42). Institute of Public Administration in association with the Sociological Association of Ireland. O’Mahony, P. (Ed.). (2007). The constitution and criminal justice. Criminal justice in Ireland (pp. 72–88). Institute of Public Administration. O’Sullivan, E., & O’Donnell, I. (Eds.). (2012). Coercive confinement in Ireland: Patients, prisoners and penitents. Manchester University Press.

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Rolleston, T. W. (2016). Ireland and Poland: A comparison. Amazon. Spierenburg, P. (2004). Social control and history: An Introduction. In C. Emsley, E. Johnson, & P. Spierenburg (Eds.), Social control in Europe: Vol. 2, 1800–2000 (pp. 1–23). The Ohio State University Press, https://muse. jhu.edu/chapter/1178092/pdf Zieli´nski, Z. (2003). Ko´sciół w Polsce: 1944–2002 [The Catholic Church in Poland: 1944–2002]. Polskie Wydawn. Encyklopedyczne.

2 Development of Polish Criminal Law

Introduction Using the twenty-century criminal legislation1 as a lens, this chapter presents the hypocrisy of the way socialism was devised in Communist Poland and how the actual aims of the criminal justice system were achieved (in comparison to the goals presented publicly). The militarisation of behaviours was a tool established initially by a foreign power (the Soviets on Polish territory) and then used by Polish state officials. Thus, the primary driver to enforce the process of the militarisation of behaviours was to subdue an entire Polish nation, representatives of other nations, and cultural and religious minorities. Therefore, the Soviets wanted to impose total control over the population, and they needed to homogenise that population. That required political, cultural, and social

1

The textbooks investigated as part of the initial study held a limited version of historical overview chapters, and these only provide a general scope of the development of that law. Historical accounts of law are offered by Bojarski et al. (2015) on pp. 32–37 (out of 625), Gardocki (2015) on pp. 20–26 (out of 367), and Wróbel and Zoll (2014) on pp. 47–84 (out of 607).

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3_2

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dominance which was attained by the employment of the militarisation of behaviours. During the end and after WWII, the Soviets reached total political control by filling most of the critical state posts with Soviet agents (who were trained militarily). They wanted to attain cultural control by forced resettlements (especially of minorities) with a high degree of probability of assimilation of those who were resettled. That was done with the help of other tools from the arsenal of the militarisation of behaviours toolbox. The inception of the Soviet law in Poland happened through decrees, labour camps, the death penalty, fear, oppression (political and social repression), and the military courts (during the late 1940s). These formed the basis for the introduction of the militarisation of behaviours. While discussing the importance of ad hoc legislation (like, decrees), it is beneficial to consider how lasting an effect these can have on the population. Decrees thanks to its simplicity, austerity, and robustness offered legal and practical solutions to problems faced by the communists while trying to coerce the Polish population post-WWII. Hence, a detailed account of the social and legal landscape is presented here alongside factors determining an effective imposition of the militarisation of behaviours, for example, thanks to a substitution of the father figure (when the state was replacing parents in upbringing children). The army played an important role in establishing this process since it instilled military elements into the civil sphere of life, for example, via social drill, military culture, and the military courts. After years of trying to fully militarise behaviours and obtain social homogeneity, the weakness of the state leaders created favourable conditions for organised crime to emerge.

A Historical Development of Criminal Law in Poland Over the last few decades, Polish legal, and less so, socio-legal, scholars (Bardach et al., 2005; Czy˙zak, 2007, 2010; Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005; Indecki & Jurewicz, 2014; Kania, 2015; Kładoczny, 2004; Konieczny, 1972; Rankin, 1940; Rudzinski, 1956; Sowa, 2011; Wasek & Frankowski, 1993; Wrzyszcz, 2016) started to review historical accounts

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on the development of Polish Criminal Law and the history of Polish statehood. That was done having in mind a differentiation made in one studied legal handbook between sources of knowledge on law (past and contemporary law) and sources of a formation of law (all factors influencing the shape of legal regulations) (Bojarski et al., 2015: 47). Throughout the centuries, Poland (in its different statehood forms) has undergone a period of far-reaching Latinisation of its law and legal culture which was also supported by a fascination with Roman law (Wagner, 1990).2 Poland as a state reappeared on the map on the 11th of November 1918 as the Second Polish Republic after 123 years of nonexistence caused by three Partitions of Poland (in 1772, 1793, and 1795). During the end of the eighteenth, entire nineteenth, and the beginning of the twentieth century, the Polish population was divided between three states of Prussia, Austria (from 1867 Austria-Hungary), and Russia (from 1917 the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic which was renamed in 1922 as the USSR). It meant that the Polish population was subdued to three different forms of statehood mentioned above and their legal systems.3 For example, in the Russian part of the partitioned Polish territory, the criminal code was enacted in 1818. Then, it was amended in 1847 by an enactment modelled after the Russian Criminal Code of 1845, and then it was replaced in 1903 by an enactment of the Russian Criminal Code (ibid.). Consequently, three separate legal systems influenced the behaviours of Poles over centuries, even after gaining independence. The criminal legislation of these three legal systems remained in place until the enactment of a comprehensive version of substantive criminal legislation in the form of the Polish Criminal Code,4 1932 (Bardach et al., 2005); and, some of its residues permeated legislation of the Second Polish Republic.5

2 In the form of an overuse of Latin legal maxims. Also, some institutions and solutions which derived from Roman law influenced the Polish criminal and civil law. 3 Individuals of Polish origin sometimes influenced the development of these legal systems (See: Goł˛ab, 1924). 4 Criminal legislation in accordance with the German legal tradition is condensed into a comprehensive legislation known as a Code (instead of an act or a joined series of acts). 5 Especially: the Austrian Criminal Code of 1852, the German Criminal Code of 1871, and the Russian Criminal Code of 1903 (Kładoczny, 2004).

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The code (known as Makarewicz’s Code6 ) was based on the classic and sociological school of legal thought.7

The Post-World War One Period During the first few years of independence (regained in 1918), Poland began creating ad hoc legal procedures due to the ongoing validity8 of the five legal systems9 on its territory, to keep up with the societal changes of that time. The new Polish legislation was to be enacted for the whole regained Polish territory. In the process of consideration on which laws should be imposed, the Codifying Commission listed and discussed relevant problems, such as which procedural law should be used (Goł˛ab, 1924).10 Then, the Commission decided on the most workable solutions out of the already existing ones in some parts of the country. That meant effectively that the state wanted to use foreign laws or legal rules. In a few instances, it was decided that the most appropriate solutions or legal concepts that existed before the partition era, could be reapplied. This transition time was a peculiarity, with a multiplicity of foreign laws used within one legal system. Wagner (1990) notes that this situation led to an application in the Second Polish Republic of the international conflicts of law principles, which are unusual in a domestic legal context. The usability of that solution was appealing enough to be recognised in other countries and was used in some North American casebooks regarding conflicts of law. The interwar legislation was also influenced in some form by the French school of law, like in the case of the function of the supreme court which refrains from passing a final judgement. Instead, it

6 Prof. Juliusz Makarewicz was one of the main contributors and members of the Codification Commission (Komisja Kodyfikacyjna). 7 It was repealed and replaced by the Polish People’s Republic (PPR) Criminal Code in 1969. 8 As previously occupied territories, considering non-existence of the new Polish legislation, were still using legislation of one of three occupants. 9 Russian law, German law, Austrian law, Hungarian law, in central provinces the law of the former Kingdom of Poland, and additionally some local acts enacted by various local governments or bodies (Lity´nski, 2017: 207). 10 Prof. Gołab was one of the drafters of the interwar legislation and was a member of the Codifying Commission.

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confirms or reverses judgements (and then refers these back to a lowertier court). It could mostly lay the principles of law, and it very rarely makes a substituted judgement (ibid.). The Courts of Poland of the interwar period took the view that, even though the state’s territorial sovereignty existed, it could not be exercised, as it was effectively occupied. That view punished those who supported other states before 1918. It was a way to exercise a principle of postliminium, which is an institution of a public international law declaring the invalidity of all illegitimate acts of occupiers after regaining sovereignty (Rankin, 1940). Considering basic features of criminal law, as noted by authors of all three studied legal textbooks, an enactment of the 1932 Criminal Code unified criminal law and removed any ambiguity regarding the criminal nature of certain acts depending on where in Poland these were performed11 (Bojarski et al., 2015; Gardocki, 2015; Wróbel & Zoll, 2014). The 1932 Criminal Code did not allow to use of analogies of crimes named explicitly in that Code to actions which were not specified in it.12 In short, that code differentiated three basic forms of punishment. The standard punishment for crimes in the form of confinement was referred to as imprisonment (in cases of lengthy sentences of a maximum of 30 years or life imprisonment) and arrest (for short terms sentences ranging from one week to five years). Whereas the most severe penalty, the death penalty, was available only in a handful of cases (Wagner, 1990). Another interesting feature of Polish criminal legislation is the distinctiveness of the military criminal law. One way of rationalising a separation of military criminal law from the rest of criminal legislation was through a historical continuation of the military criminal law legislation 11

Examples of offences against the state: in Austrian law these included legislation on the ‘main betrayal’ (against territory and government), an insult of majesty of the Austrian Emperor or members of the Imperial Household, disturbing public peace, and espionage; in German law these covered treason and betrayal of the country, insults to the ruler and insulting of union dukes, and some forms of espionage and sabotage; and in Russian law these included offences of rebellions against the government, crimes against the enlightened person of the Emperor and members of the Imperial House, and treason (Kładoczny, 2004: 39–42). 12 Contrary to a legislation enacted simultaneously by Soviets which influenced the Polish post-WWII legislation.

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in Poland. It goes back to the eleventh century, and its first codifications and enforcement were in the form of military articles (known as the first Polish military criminal code). For Mariusz Czy˙zak (2010), it can also be justified by its distinctive character and role (related to the protection of state security) that prevents it from being absorbed by ordinary criminal law, and which sometimes dominates ordinary law. After WWI and Poland’s independence, a contemporary military criminal law was enacted. Towards the end of WWII, it was surprisingly absorbed and incorporated into a decree of the Polish Committee of National Liberation, which introduced the Penal Code of the Polish Army. In 1969, that legislation was moved and incorporated as an integral part of the 1969 Criminal Code (ibid.).

The World War Two and Post-World War Two Periods From the 1st of September 1939 and during WWII, the Western parts of Poland were occupied by Nazi Germany, with the Eastern ones occupied by the USSR. Interestingly, Konieczny (1972), Kładoczny (2004), and Czy˙zak (2007) saw a significant similarity between interwar Nazi legislation and post-war Soviet legislation enacted in Poland. As we can discover in one of the legal textbooks, in the USSR and Nazi Germany, “[c]riminal law was treated purely instrumentally as means of combating predominantly political opponents” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 59). The influence on the legal system imposed by the USSR on the Polish legal system is known as sovietisation of law (Rudzinski, 1956; Wasek & Frankowski, 1993). As part of the military counteroffensive, the USSR ‘liberated’ some of the eastern Polish territories in 1943 and western ones in 1944. Over the months of this global conflict, most of the Polish territory was under the occupancy of Nazi Germany. Nazi legislation was enforced forcefully on Polish territory from the first day of the war (from the 1st September 1939), with the establishment of the Ad hoc Police Courts13 (Polizeistandgerichte, which were flying martial courts) 13 That legislation was enacted together with a prohibition on any forms of weaponry, ammunition, and military equipment. Death penalty as a default punishment for owning any of it (Konieczny, 1972).

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(Konieczny, 1972). Initially, it had jurisdiction over military personnel, but soon (from the 18th of May 1940) became also used against civilians. Arndt (2015) emphasises a greater gullibility or malleability of the hand-picked military judges compared to ordinary ones. Wasek and Frankowski (1993) note that courts were still staffed with pre-war judges. Therefore, it was easier to expand the jurisdiction of a smaller branch of the judiciary (the military courts) and to simplify the criminal procedure relating to several criminal categories simultaneously. For Kania (2015), this situation, where military courts became an obedient tool of the government of that time, was readily visible from September 1944 onwards. Effectively, from 1939 until 1990, Poland lacked sovereignty, as it was firstly controlled by Nazi Germany and then by the Soviets. From 1945, Poland went through a time of rapid and abrupt social change, including significant compulsory migration in the form of resettlements (Rudzinski, 1956) triggered by the WWII peace process, causing the most significant shift of boundaries ever seen in Poland’s history. This process was very unfavourable to the Polish state. Poland lost approx. 76,000 km2 equating to around 20% of its overall territory (Davies, 2000). Then, the Catholic Church was the biggest and relatively most vocal opponent of the Polish People’s Republic (PPR) established after the war. The Church articulated its opposition, lack of support, and dissatisfaction in sermons during masses. Consequently, some legislation was explicitly directed at the Church (Kładoczny, 2004). The final days of WWII and the initial post-war period were quite disruptive, and the entire socio-political situation was unstable. Some people found themselves involved in inter-cultural and inter-nationalistic conflicts over territory and memory.14 The early days of the newly formed state saw certain social disorganisation and a relatively speedy re-urbanisation of the new Polish territory. Formally, the Second Republic was replaced through the enactment of the Constitution of 1952 by the PPR.

14

As some minorities were resettled throughout the gained territory to eradicate their culture and social difference. Also, national minorities (i.e., German and Ukrainian) were expelled from PPR (Davies, 2000).

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The post-war Polish legal system was transitioning towards a Soviet one, part of a plan to incorporate the state and its structure into the Soviet ecosystem. Moreover, it allowed Joseph Stalin, who controlled the USSR, for direct intervention and greater control over the PPR territories through his loyal associates. Also, as noted by Kania (2015) during 1944–1945, the territory of Poland in its new borders (between two rivers of Bug and Odra) was covered by a network of 319 Soviet war commanders. Not only that, the NKVD maintained their intelligence sources (independent of the Security Service, the Polish People’s Army and its counter-espionage organs), their prisons, and places of execution (even Polish communist supporters were not welcomed into any of them) (ibid.). The Union of Polish Patriots15 (UPP) was created in 1943, and by, the USSR. The UPP was a version of a proto-legislative body with Soviet support. It issued normative documents that had no official support and were not technically part of the Polish legislature. Its pseudolegislation formed the bases for future legislative acts of its successor, the Polish Committee of National Liberation16 (PCNL) and especially its decrees.17 That led to unrestrained repressive laws (numerous emergencytype laws imposed to confine the country and its population) to co-exist temporarily with the still binding pre-war law (Kładoczny, 2004). The Polish communist regime used criminal law as an instrument in its fight against the opposition.18 Some like Tuszy´nski and Denda (1999) refer to that time as a three-year civil war (1945–1947). During that time, any forms of opposition against the new government were repressed and prosecuted. As a result, all major political opposition was 15

Polish: Zwi˛azek Patriotów Polskich. Polish: Polski Komitet Wyzwolenia Narodowego. 17 Decrees are also used in other jurisdictions, for example, between 1922 and 1925, forty-four decrees were issued in the Weimar Republic (the German Reich) due to social, economic, and fiscal problems. Similarly, the state of Israel from its inception operates on the basis of the emergency and the government has the ability to issue decrees in accordance with the Law and Administration Ordinance 1948 (Neocleous, 2006). 18 Gardocki illustrate such an attitude with a punishment for “a payment of a fine by nonfamily person for a convicted person or offering them money for this purpose. This last rule (which was introduced in 1985 as part of the fight against the political opposition) is certainly too deeply interfering with how a convicted person pays that fine” (Gardocki, 2015: 12). 16

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annihilated. In some cases, it resembled how the Katy´n Massacre was performed; rapidly, on a large scale, and without judicial or bureaucratic disturbances. During the first few years after WWII, labour camps were employed by the Soviets to rein in the Polish population. The infrastructure of the former Nazi death camps was repurposed as labour camps by the Secret Security of the Soviet Union. These were used as part of the process of homogenisation of the country’s population. However, labour camps are not encapsulated as part of the process of the militarisation of behaviours. Initially, it was decided by the communist that the term, death camps, should be used. It was later changed to isolation camps, and lastly to labour camps (Miroszewski, 2018). The Polish Committee of National Liberation (PCNL) issued the instruction of the head of the Ministry of Public Security of the PCNL about the Detention and Sending the Traitors of the Nation to Labour Camps. That instruction was confirmed in the Decree of the Polish Committee of National Liberation on the 4th of November 1944 on the Precautionary Measures Against the Traitors of the Nation (Miroszewski, 2018). Moreover, labour camps were used for detaining prisoners sentenced by an extra-judicial body called the Special Commission for Combating Economic Abuses and Corruption (See: An Inception of the Soviet Law in PPR). It was one of the tools of mass repression and effectively, anyone could have been prosecuted by that Commission (the Home Army soldiers; Nazi collaborators; political opposition; economically driven criminals; and minorities, for example, Germans, Ukrainians and Lemkos). By December 1948, communist officials kept some appearances of democracy. Nonetheless, between 15 and 21 December 1948, these shreds of appearance were abandoned altogether, and a new political body was established out of the two merged communist parties supported and controlled by the Soviets, the Polish Workers’ Party and the Polish Socialist Party (Zieli´nski, 2003). The new communist party become known as the Polish United Workers’ Party. It ruled the Polish People’s Republic (PPR) politically until it formally ceased to exist in 1989. This same occasion marks an introduction of the centrally steered economy of the PPR. In order to keep the façade of a democratic system,

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formally the only opposition present in the political system (up until 1989) were two so-called ‘allied parties’, the United Peasant Party and the Democratic Party (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005). Also, during the first post-war election, the army was the only social and professional group which had both non-falsified and falsified electoral records and other supporting documentation prepared separately. The non-falsified records were used in the army to examine current social moods, while the falsified ones were officially published (Sowa, 2011). Fear can be a useful tool of social control (See: Militarisation of the Public Sphere). For Dudek and Paczkowski (2005), one of the features of Poland between 1949 and 1954/1955 was an overrepresentation of the control and repression of the entire society. Those authors see it as the period of universal terror , where the state was interfering with everyone’s life to the extent that no one (including governmental or semi-governmental employees) was safe from interference. In the PPR, the Security Service performed acts of, and sowed, terror. That collective instrument of terror was only useful until members of society broke the barrier of fear and decided to voice their dissatisfaction and resentment towards their oppressors. That was done during social unrest in the German Democratic Republic in 1953, in Poland and Hungary in 1956, in Czechoslovakia in 1968, or once more in Poland in 1980. In the PPR, the Security Service was able to control individuals, their attitudes, and their behaviours, but could not counteract mass uprisings (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005). This Service was able to bring to the fore the worth and the best qualities of a person depending on one’s situation. Persak and Kami´nski (2005) state that it is difficult, if not impossible, to understand the history of communism without an understanding of the security apparatus that was a part of that system. In the PPR, the communist security services sensu largo compromised of “militias, special military units, a system of prisons and camps, public prosecutors’ offices and courts obedient to the party, and various extra-judicial organs of repression” (ibid.: 8). The Ministry of Public directly controlled the Security Service (and other security organisations). This formation was tremendously influential. In 1953, under its orders, there were around 200,000 armed people on top of an additional unarmed 100,000 members of

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ORMO19 (the Voluntary Reserve of the Citizens’ Militia), and both were subjected to military discipline (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005). Similarly, the Polish security apparatus was an auxiliary one to the Soviet security services operating within the (re)established Polish state. The new Polish territory was a place of (covert) operations of the Red Army and accompanied by units of military counterintelligence (abbreviated in Russian as SMERSH) and a number of the Soviet People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs formations (which were commonly referred to as the NKVD) (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005). From October 1944, a division of the NKVD troops (the 64th Infantry Division), with over 10,000 soldiers, was stationed in Poland (it was ten times bigger than the still-in-formation Polish internal troops) (ibid.: 222). The year 1956 marks a momentous time in the history of the PPR, as that year the landscape of the security apparatus changed. Before that, the situation was already an always-changing one, as around and before 1947, SMERSH relocated with the Red Army to Germany, and the NKVD internal troops left the PPR in principle. Nonetheless, “both the advisers’ apparatus (albeit gradually decreasing) and a substantial part of the Soviet Ministry of Public Security functionaries remained until 1956” (ibid.: 223). Security services were designed as the shield and sword of the communist party, to protect it from any threat and to destroy its real or imagined enemies (Persak & Kami´nski, 2005). Changes in the numbers of functionaries regularly occurred in the PPR due to social and political changes, and those fluctuated depending on the current political climate and realistic needs of the apparatus. Censorship, alongside some moderate attempts of eavesdropping, was one of the main activities of the security apparatus during its early days (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005). Access to, and control over, information in general (and the channels of the flow of information) was crucial for the newly forming state and its apparatus. Information and its sources were essential to gain and retain control over the population. As a result, 19

Polish: Ochotnicza Rezerwa Milicji Obywatelskiej.

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social conditioning was continually occurring in the public (but also to a degree in a private) sphere.

Militarisation, a Lack of the Father Figure, and the Role of Females in the 1940s and 1950s In the PPR, militarisation led to the implementation of a long-term institutionalising social project. By militarising behaviours, the state placed itself in a position of power where s certain level of obedience could be enforced. In Poland, the state took over the place of a father figure, which had been overwhelmingly absent in the post-war era. Osiatynski (cited in Jackson & Tushnet, 1999) claims that the Polish people have a preference for a strong state which can be compared to the paternalistic authority figure that grants rights to people, not the other way around. Similarly, the post-war era was a preparatory phase which led to substituting of parenthood (Hollingshead, 1946; Price, 2017) by incorporating and institutionalising the militarisation of behaviours into the state educational system. While addressing the educational needs of the youth, simultaneously, the state made efforts to subdue the rest of the population. The male population was decimated by their involvement in war fronts, which created a deficiency in male workers (a predominant workforce in the labour market of that time). Whereas females occupied subordinate social roles (Kenney, 1999). In the 1940s and 1950s, the state made substantial efforts to encourage females (mostly housewives) to get involved in the workforce and fulfil their duties towards the state and society by taking up previously male-dominated occupations. In doing so, the state ensured that females worked alongside the remainder of the male population to rebuild the country out of postwar ruins. Again, that on its own created a space to be filled by the state to mind the children (through the extensive educational system). As in institutional upbringing, some elements of the state’s ideologies can be incorporated into the educational system with whatever the state considers worthy for its purposes. Therefore, an emphasis is paid to what social role (parenthood) was taken by the state in specific periods of

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Polish legal development. Thus, these are informative in some of the decision-making processes of the state and its officials. Cynthia Enloe (2004) notes that militarisation persists even after the conflict is over. Therefore, militarised masculinity excludes females from full participation in a post-war society. That was the case in both Ireland and Poland (ibid.). In Ireland, females were treated like that after the Partition and in Poland after WWII. In both cases, females were useful for the state in the first few post-war years (since the male population suffered because of the conflict) and when the male section of society was in a position to again partake in the labour market, females were asked to withdraw themselves from the public space into the private sphere to look after children, family, and home duties.

The Development of Polish Criminal Law Between 1943/1944 and 1989 As part of this study, I examined the Polish legal system, and three stages of the development of Polish socialism were identified. These three periods are: (1) the militant parent (from 1943/1944 up to 1956), (2) the father figure (from 1956 up to 1976), and (3) the parental failure/disillusionment (from 1976 up to 1989).20 These correspond to the level of societal growth, and change of social conditions, as much as the level of implementation of the process of the militarisation of behaviours does. That also includes moments of significance in the formation of these processes.

20

Differently, Indecki and Jurewicz (2014) divide a historical development of PPR’s criminal law into three periods: (1) from 1944 till 1954 (punishing the state’s enemies), (2) from 1955 until 1969 (an improvement of the system and fighting economic crime), and (3) from the 1st January 1970 (marked by an introduction of the 1969 Penal Code) until 1989. For Bojko (2016) year 1944 is treated a beginning of Stalinism in Poland and October 1956 marks the end of Stalinist era in PPR (Kładoczny, 2004).

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The Militant Parent (1943/1944–1956) This section discusses the development of criminal law between 1943/1944 and 1956; describes the socio-historical circumstances surrounding it, and deliberates on relevant legislative and pseudolegislative acts. Special attention will be paid to pseudo-legislative dispositions in the form of decrees, which led me to a formulation of the concept of the militarisation of behaviours. In addition, the death penalty will be discussed briefly due to its role as one of the most critical tools of oppression of that period.

An Inception of the Soviet Law in the PPR One of the main categories in a newly developed catalogue of crimes was a crime against the state 21 (against its foundation, territory, and international position). Its primary purpose was to break with prior state continuity and to establish a new system of statehood with the new legislation. Kładoczny (2004) notes that the activity of the Soviet-backed pseudo-governmental bodies (the UPP and the PCNL) fulfilled that definition of crimes against the (previous) state when the pre-war Polish government was still in exile. Those crimes, one can assume, contain norms relating to a value system based on which the re-established state wanted to build its statehood. The state was reshaping the legal system to suit its new basic ideas, like a monopoly of power, the domination of the communist party, and the centrally governed, state-owned economy (Wasek & Frankowski, 1993). Also, that early legislative period was heavily influenced by Soviet legislation. Between 1944 and 1956, more than 300 legislative documents were enforced into the Polish legal system (ibid.). Moreover, as mentioned in one studied legal textbook, in every totalitarian regime, “as in PPR, criminal law was primarily used for a 21 The Chapter 17 of the Penal Code of the Polish Army of 1932 covers Offences against the State (Wasek & Frankowski, 1993). These consisted of crimes which were present in ancient Rome as crimen lease maiestatis and which percolated more contemporary legislation with a gradual reception of Roman law over the last few hundred years. It was also a form of a political crime which is not used so commonly nowadays (Kładoczny, 2004).

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political fight, especially during the first phase of the construction of the communist system” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 70). According to Kładoczny (2004), that period was characterised by its focus on some state’s spheres, which needed protection. Those were: the state’s monetary system and loans, the state’s monopoly on foreign trade, transportation, army, and contraction of resistance and anti-social behaviour. Dudek and Paczkowski (2005) are of the view that the process of building the security apparatus continued until the second half of 1945. Likewise, the 6th of September 1945 can be regarded as a threshold date, as it marked the final restructuring and division of the security apparatus (ibid.). One of the main tools which broaden the scope of anti-state crimes and simplified procedural rules was the Decree on the Protection of the State. Another one was the Decree on Offences Particularly Dangerous in the Period of Rebuilding the State22 (See: Kładoczny, 2004; Wasek & Frankowski, 1993). One more Decree was enforced on the 16th of November 1945,23 and it established a unique extra-judicial body called the Special Commission for Combating Economic Abuses and Corruption. It was a body combining investigative and judiciary features. Moreover, that commission, instead of referring a case to a court, could adjudicate about that case, with no formal way to appeal its judgments (ibid.). Wróbel and Zoll note in their legal textbook that “[t]he commission, after carrying its inquisitorial proceedings, was able to place a perpetrator in the labour camp for a period not exceeding two years, and to prohibit residing on the territory of a given province” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 72). In addition, all state bodies were forced to adhere to dispositions of that commission concerning corruption, embezzlement, looting, and speculation. Wasek and Frankowski (1993) highlight that post-war legislation is characterised by an exceptional level of procedural simplicity which helped in sentencing quickly all those who opposed the new state setup 22 This decree on the Period of Rebuilding of the State was repealed in 1970, as pointed out by Wasek and Frankowski (1993), way beyond its original timeframe. It consisted mostly of norms which protected states officials, soldiers, state assets, and information. Severe penalties applied for acts against these people or goods, with punishments ranging from at least two years of imprisonment up to a lifelong incarceration. 23 The decree establishing a special commission for combating economic abuses and corruption.

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(within 96 hours, i.e., 24 hours to set the trial date, and with 72 hours for the accused to prepare for it and call in witnesses). Theoretically, the new regulations existed alongside pre-war legislation, which was supplemented in 1950 with legislation on the office of the public prosecutor24 [the word procurator is used to denote its subservient role towards political forces (Goł˛ab, 1924)]. The above criminal legislation was utilised heavily in the 1950s due to its simplicity resulting in the efficiency of judgements. Wasek and Frankowski (1993) echo other academics and citizens that criminal law was an incredibly useful tool of social control in times when the country was very much in ruins after the war period. During that time, the Polish territory acted as a combat zone for so many WWII battles. Not without consequences the above was a way in which the military criminal law was drafted and used. Czy˙zak (2007) identified several features of the PPR’s military criminal legislation, namely: (1) lowquality legislative work, (2) partial incorporation, influence and usage of the interwar Polish legal norms, (3) undermining present-day basic principles of criminal law, (4) a reception of the Soviet law and its incorporation into Polish legal system, (5) an excessive repressiveness and usage of death penalty, (6) strengthening of a role of procurator (public prosecutor) and the office of the Military Information, (7) an expansion of the scope of the military courts at expense of the ordinary courts and a formation of the special military courts, (8) an incompetence of legal personnel and sovietisation of the military justice service, (9) an overwhelming belief of the legislators on not restraining the judicature with any kind of legal norms,25 and (10) an outmoded usage of the concept of analogy (applying penalties for specified crimes towards actions not specified in the legislation). Overall, the dualistic nature of the legal system stemmed from using a blend of new and pre-war law. Over the years, political trials were seen less often, but still occurred considering anti-state activities and were harshly punished to the extent that overcrowding of prisons was 24

Beforehand, an order of Colonel Berling issued on the 24th of July 1943 was a contra legem basis for the strengthening of the role of the procurator to which the state officials adhered to (Czy˙zak, 2010). 25 Same view was represented by the Nazi legislature and government (Konieczny, 1972).

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becoming a social problem which could only be alleviated by periodic amnesties. The post-Stalinist ideological change was not followed by a structural one, and the severity of the legislation remained the same, however, the law was adhered to less strictly. Similarly, Wróbel and Zoll mention in their legal textbook that “[f ]rom the beginning of the communist rule there have been very significant changes in a field of criminal law through an introduction of extra-jurisdictional legislation characteristic to totalitarian regimes [namely, decrees]” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 70).

The 1940s Decrees A decree refers to a Latin word decretum translating into something decided . It can also be seen as an official order that has the force of law, and matters can be ordered by a decree (Soanes et al., 2006). In a more contemporary context, a decree (Martin, 1986; Stewart, 2006) refers to a court order (mostly in divorce cases or in canon law). It must be mentioned that the word decree carries some pejorative historical weight, as it was a legal instrument used predominantly by heads of states (popes, kings, queens, etc.) to obtain asserted political goals without a legal obligation to consult anyone except for the issuer of that decree. In the PPR, as mentioned in the legal textbook authored by Wróbel and Zoll (2014), the decrees were a collective tool of social and political oppression against specific categories of people (the Home Army soldiers, Nazi collaborators, minorities, political opposition, and economically driven criminals). These people in a societal context represented a type of attitude which is feared by usurpers, and the state needed to remove these threats (people) by any means (decrees). Decrees were not entirely new, as only months earlier decrees were utilised by Nazi Germany officials while occupying Polish territories (Wrzyszcz, 2016). Also, the Bolsheviks used decrees from the beginning of their rule. Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov (aka Lenin) issued his first Decree on Peace on the 26th of October 1917 (Ings, 2017). Decrees forced social cooperation through oppression. This type of attitude is a distinctive feature of authoritarian regimes characterised by a lack of trust between citizens and a

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government, and in general, a state’s inability to rely on others. Such an attitude leads to several different consequences described below, which created an atmosphere of fear, distrust, and coercion instead of trust and partnership. The 1940s Decrees were used as part of the process of establishment of Soviet power in the form of an informal to-be-introduced-government calling itself the Polish Committee of National Liberation (PCNL). That government was imposed on the country as part of the post-Second World War peace agreement held in Yalta, and it was installed by the Soviet Security Services in the Lublin region as a substitute for the government on the 21st of July 1944 and stayed in ‘power’ until the 31st of December 1944. Before their departure from Moscow to Lublin, members of the PCNL signed an agreement in the name of the Republic of Poland (as it was still known back then, and to be later renamed as the Polish People’s Republic) with the USSR. At the same time, they surrendered all jurisdiction to the Soviet Union over persons committing crimes in the Red Army war zone (ranging from 60 to 100 km). Decrees were useful tools to rein in Poland when it ended up in the Soviet sphere of political, social, and economic influence, as the Soviet Security Services, without any major obstruction, performed planned killings, arrests, and extermination of the opposition, and these acts were uncontrollable even by Polish communists (Kania, 2015). Moreover, this agreement was a formal basis for the extradition of many Polish officers and underground leaders to Moscow. As a result, any Polish citizens convicted by the Soviet special military tribunals26 could apply for a resumption of the proceedings, an appeal, or a pardon only in the manner prescribed by the Soviet military procedure (ibid.). On the 31st of December 1944, the National Home Council adopted a decree to reorganise the PCNL into the Provisional Government of the Polish Republic. Zieli´nski (2003) notes that the first president of the Provisional Government of National Unity (an entity which was a successor of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Poland), Boleslaw Bierut, was an agent of the NKVD. 26 These special military tribunals were a part of the Red Army and were formed to try to sentence both civilians and military personnel. Effectively, these were controlled by the NKVD (Lity´nski, 2017).

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Decrees were claimed to be based on the previous legislation in accordance with a pseudo-legislative27 announcement of the pseudogovernment Polish Committee of National Liberation (PCNL28 ) which proclaimed that it had the form and power of a legal act. Its content was indicating a temporary mode of issuing decrees with the force of the law. Nonetheless, that pseudo-legal authorisation was vague to a point where it only designated the 1921 March Constitutions in general (enacted on the 17th of March 1921) as the legal basis for its enactment. It is worth noting that this Constitution was superseded by the April Constitution 1935 (enacted on the 23rd of April 1935). It means that the basis for issuing decrees was contra legem. That pseudo-legislation was enforced without legal authorisation, as it was legitimised using force employed while the PCLN was occupying Polish territory with the help of the Soviet Red Army. These were, one can assume, politically enforced orders legitimatised post factum. Thus, decrees were in a way floating legislation which had no legal or social framework. There was no legal basis to enforce them. As an example, Kania (2015) reminds us of the Military Criminal Code 1943. The only thing that ties it with the pre-war legislation was the way it was published (by means of making it publicly available to some extent). Notably, the country was in ruins and not too many people pay too much attention to these documents around the time of their publication. The other connection is that this 1943 code repealed formally expressis verbis the Military Criminal Code 1932. As revealed by the authors of the studied textbook, that code was still in force, however, it was never applied in the Second Polish Republic (Bojarski et al., 2015; Czy˙zak, 2007). Now, law students can also learn from another legal textbook that decrees were effectively extra-jurisdictional legislation which: surrounded the Penal Code [1932] by provisions that regulated new phenomena related to a creation of a new system, or regulated otherwise 27 There were no legal grounds for an enactment of such a legislative disposition in accordance with the law applicable at that time. 28 A pseudo-governmental body imposed by the Soviets and Joseph Stalin.

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liability issues known to the Penal Code; and suspended its activities in a specific scope without formally repealing those provisions. (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 70)

The PCLN had self-proclaimed a few decrees in 1944 and 1945 as an initial form of legislation which was referred to and built on later. Wróbel and Zoll note in their handbook that “[t]wo decrees adopted on 16th of November 1945 were pivotal in the shaping of the character of the criminal law of PPR … [namely, decrees] on the Ad hoc Procedure29 … [and] on the Special Commission for Combating Economic Abuses and Corruption” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 72). It is important to emphasise that even if there was a lack of legitimacy in enacting these decrees as part of the legal system of that time, these decrees were established by a body which should not be recognised legally. It sufficed that the USSR politically recognised the PCLN. Afterwards, the Polish People’s Republic recognised this pseudo-legislation. These decrees influenced future legislation and set the tone in the country which was rebuilding itself within newly (re)established boundaries (inclusive of the so-called ‘Recovered Territories’). That happened under a rule which was in part (culturally) foreign. Kania (2015) claims that two decrees from 1944 (first, the 31st of August 1944 on Nazi and fascist criminals,30 and second, the 30th of October 1944 on the Protection of the State31 ) were a milestone in the introduction of a widespread terror in which a pivotal role was played by the judiciary of the Polish People’s Army, which indicates an early foundation for the militarisation of behaviours.

29

Also, known as the Decrees on Emergency Proceedings (Wasek & Frankowski, 1993). That is a collective label which could be attached to anyone who fulfilled that description as a collaborator with either one of the regimes and was considered a war criminal, or simply anyone who was opposing the communist rule at the time (Lity´nski, 2007). 31 Also, known as the Decree on Offences Particularly Dangerous in the Period of Rebuilding the State Proceedings (Wasek & Frankowski, 1993). Together with the Decree on the Ad hoc Procedure, these are recognised as terrorist decrees targeting all enemies of the new system (ibid.: 147). 30

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Another example of oppressive legislation of the 1940s was the decree of the 4th of November 1944 on the Militarisation of Polish State Railways.32 It specifies that railways could solely be used to carry out tasks of a military nature. That decree is a prime example of a tool used to introduce the militarisation of behaviours, done by repurposing a division of social life to suit military purposes entirely. In addition, it is an instance of changing one’s employment into duty by replacing contractual obligations with a structured discipline (which is a sign of the militarisation of behaviours). Art. 4 of that decree specifies that anyone disobeying will be subjected to penalties specified in the Military Criminal Code, 1943. Militarisation of rail and rail workers happened as a result of the role of the railway system in the proper functioning of the entire Soviet bloc as the railway could be compared to a bloodline of the entire Soviet bloc. Soviet armies were scattered across different strategic regions of the block and uninterrupted rail service was needed to maintain connection and support to these military areas. It was also a connection which was needed in case when the military personnel and equipment were to be transported and moved to a different region of the USSR. Altogether, militarisation of rail workers occurred as they represented vital service from the point of view of the existence of the entire Soviet bloc. The decree on the Special Procedures revived the summary procedure enforced on the 15th of November and later struck by the 1969 Criminal Code. It was devised to punish goers of street demonstrations or strikes via the criminal courts’ summary procedure utilised by the military courts (being a part of the Ministry of Defence jurisdiction which was expanded significantly at the expense of other courts) or the misdemeanour courts. That decree introduced a procedure that militarised people were subjected to it. Also, the court could impose the death penalty, even if it was not specified in the original legislation, or sent the accused into a closed mental health facility (Swidlicki, 1984). The rules under which the accused was tried resembled those of the Ad hoc Procedure Decree 1944. The same procedure applied in

32

It remained in force until 1949, and it allowed for a formation of the special Military Court of the Polish National Railways (Czy˙zak, 2007).

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the misdemeanour courts (Petty Offences Tribunals) which were administrative bodies devised to punish petty crimes. Its panels consisted of lay (non-legal) members, with a high degree of dependency on a local administration. Such a panel could impose imprisonment (also in the case when one was unable to pay a fine on the spot, it was automatically changed to incarceration) and, as such, became part of the repression system of the state against its citizens (ibid.). All these decrees offered highly simplified procedural rules allowing major crimes to be tried in an emergency fashion (ibid.). These also allowed for a formation of a dense network of special military courts which were designed to increase criminal repression against enemies of the state (Czy˙zak, 2007).

An Influence of the 1940s Decrees The 1940s decrees were a direct response to the still-in-operation underground army called the Home Army, which was a remnant of the resistance movement against the invaders (both Nazi and Soviet). Nonetheless, the Home Army was a well-organised military formation with proper ranks and communication structures and could perform sophisticated military operations (Sczaniecki, 2000; Sowa, 2011). The Soviets understood that to be able to exercise their political influence over Poland fully, they needed to pacify the Home Army formation and its members. The Soviets employed such an approach once already during WWII by killing the high- and middle-rank military personnel in a series of mass executions in the Katy´n Forest performed by the NKVD. Conversely, these decrees were a strong response to the mass desertion of the Polish People’s Army (PPA) soldiers. According to Kania (2015), by the end of 1945, around 25,000 people deserted the PPA. The PPR government carefully concealed from the public this mass desertion and its scale. Likewise, crime rates in the Polish People’s Army increased during out-of-combat-activity times. Whereas a sharp decline in crime was observed after the commencement of the military offensive. According to Kania (ibid.), it was due to three interdependent reasons: (1) the radical reduction of military-to-civilian contacts, (2) the intensification of military discipline, and (3) the threat of being placed on trial

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in accordance with the rules of the Ad Hoc Procedure. The same can be asserted about the militarisation of behaviours. It offers (1) a reduction of interpersonal contact (through instilling fear of being reported by others), (2) an introduction and execution of social drill (social discipline), and (3) an overarching fear of having to interact with state officials in any capacity, as it might have negative consequences for a person. In my view, the latter acted as an extension of the horror of war into the terror of a post-war period. Decrees were a form of acquiescence of the newly forming establishment to use any tools possible to rein in the country in a flux (after the abrupt wartime and major alteration of national borders) as warlike procedures and approaches were encapsulated in the 1940s decrees. Similarly, these were utilised as a part of the execution of a plan to homogenise the population (which was quite socially diverse and inclusive during the inter-war period). Another importance of this military-like approach was to send a strong signal to the people about the implementation of the plan to rebuild the country and build a new communistic reality. Communism as an idea has, at its core, an element of strong emphasis on unity as a way to build and sustain an equal society. In doing so, the Soviet Army was the first force to take control over the Polish territories in the latter part of WWII, including the so-called ‘Recovered Territories’ (the territories belonging before WWII to Eastern Germany). Thus, the Soviet Army established a temporary rule over these territories and relatively soon bestowed these powers to the newly established Polish administration controlled by the same Soviets (Zieli´nski, 2003). The Soviets and the new elites needed a social process (like the militarisation of behaviours) to help them to achieve that goal and to maintain control over the Polish territory long-term. Russians remembered how difficult it was to prevent and neutralise Polish uprisings in Polish territories occupied by Russia between 1772 and 1918. As such, decrees became a default legislative form used by the PPR officials (and other forms of pseudo-statehood administration preceding it) during transitory and turbulent times. Thus, criminal law, together with military courts, was utilised in asserting control over Polish territory by the Soviets in the post-War era.

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The new governmental power had vested interests in creating a new postWar order in Poland by using criminal law as the primary instrument to achieve that goal. As a result, the new government enacted over one hundred pieces of legislation (in the form of decrees and acts). Arndt (2015) claims that criminal law (the Criminal Code of the Polish Army 1944) became a tool used in class struggles. Moreover, for Persak and Kami´nski (2005), such an approach was aligned with Stalin’s doctrine according to which the class struggle intensified with the progress of communism. Although, massive social shifts (and their influence on the social structure) that occurred after WWII can explain why some of the theories centred on class do not reflect the Polish situation entirely. For the author, during the twentieth century, major social shifts occurred (in 1918, 1926, 1939–1945, 1945–1950, 1956, 1970, 1976, 1980–1981, and 1989), and the hierarchical social structures changed, as did the social, economic, and political composition of Polish society. Power was gained and lost, as was the wealth of certain social groups. If at any point in Polish twentieth-century history clear social boundaries were in place, these were abruptly affected during and after most of the highlighted events. Reverting to criminal law, the scope of political repression expanded (ibid.), and criminal law was further used as a tool of that repression. This then allowed for the emergence of organised crime because of the miserable situation of the country’s economy and politics during the 1980s. In addition, organised crime groups were supported, or at least tolerated by, the Security Service of the Ministry of Internal Affairs (also known as the Security Service), as any military-like operated country or organisation will be more attuned to any military setup than any other country, institution, or organisation (Kaucz, 2019). If one follows that line of thinking, one might assume that the militarisation of behaviours was used at precisely the same time as a crime supportive and crime preventive measure. Also, the 1940s decrees which were pseudo-legislative acts created foundations for the introduction of Martial Law on the 13th of December 1981; and formed a theoretical and practical basis for the introduction of a set of decrees preparing for these events. Altogether, these allowed military leaders to rein in the country at the beginning of

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the 1980s and later on. Some traces of the decrees (both from the 1940s and 1980s) are visible contemporarily as an indirect legislative residue in the current Criminal Code 1997. A military legislative residue is visible in one of the three sections of that code. The military part of that criminal code is distinct, but it is functionally connected to the general and special/particular sections of that code. Of significance here, is the fact that the military section, considering the code’s outlay (an order of the articles and sections within it), is equally important to the other two sections. Furthermore, the military jurisdiction is separate from the civil one (with separate military courts). In the case of the PPR, the 1940s decrees were an early sign of an introduction of a military-like authoritarian regime. It was, also, a part of what Kilcommins et al. referred to (in a different Irish context) as “efforts to dismantle the ‘equality of arms’ values that traditionally existed between the state and accuseds” (Kilcommins et al., 2004: 79). As the Polish context was understood and acknowledged (in the political circles of that time) a soft approach would not work, and a more robust method was required. Similarly, these were a sign of a lack of confidence placed by the still-forming political elites in the general legal system, which led to placing their faith into and more precisely assigning a task to, a military judicial system. Here, when the army and its officials gained any influence in the state’s apparatus, they extended it by simply appointing, or instigating other agencies of the state to appoint the military personnel. Again, military staff was able to relate to one another with greater ease than civilians, and military personnel would share the same language, similar experiences, and quite probably, a similar worldview. As such, an opportunity to promote an instalment in any state’s structure of a collaborator of a military background was utilised at that time.

Other Legislation of the 1940s There are other instances of the legislation which effectively militarised social spheres of life. An act introduced in July 1943 by the Presidium of the Main Board of the Union of Polish Patriots was a new Military Criminal Code which replaced the Military Criminal Code 1932,

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as this old legislation was not sufficiently reflecting communism principles. Whereas the pre-war Military Procedural Criminal Code 1932 was upheld as it was adequate to the situation. It was poorly drafted and based directly on the USSR code and situation (Kania, 2015). Military officers drafted this code without an understanding of interwar period Polish legislation. This code was soon replaced by the code enforced on the 23rd of September 1944 by the Polish Committee of National Liberation into the new legal order; and, as such, it utilised some of the solutions of the code from 1932 (ibid.). It was known as the Criminal Code of the Polish Army 1944 (Bojarski et al., 2015). As noted in one studied handbook, it was a combination of a politically driven legislation enacted in the post-war period and relating to “both soldiers and civilians” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 70). The mentioned code was an example of the legislation grouping several predominantly political categories which were harmful directly (or indirectly) to the new regime and authorities of post-war Poland. A section of that Military Criminal Code mentioned ‘State Crimes’ consisted of 19 mostly harshly penalised offences,33 and nine were punishable with the death penalty (Kładoczny, 2004). The military legislation created the basis for operations of the Military Courts, which were formally administering criminal law alongside ordinary courts (Dunaj, 2016). These Courts carried out orders from the communist party from 1946—when martial law was lifted—until 1955 when it was decided to cease its operations formally. As it was indicated, these military courts tried both civilians and military personnel (Lity´nski, 2017). The same system of speedy and problem-free adjudication implementing the political will of the state’s officials was employed during the 1980s as part of the introduction of martial law. The predecessors of these were ordinary courts (deciding civil, criminal, and military cases) of the Polish Underground State. It is widely acknowledged that Military District Courts were created illegally and had no legal basis for their operations.34 When discussing the role and operations of those courts, 33

All crimes covered by this decree were punishable by an imprisonment of not less than five year or a death penalty. Most of the crimes penalised by this decree relate to crimes against a military duty, military order, and loyalty of soldiers (Kładoczny, 2004). 34 That is due to a lack of legal basis for its functioning.

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Lity´nski revokes the words of Witold Kulesza who said that “it happened that the judge’s gown was a disguise for a criminal” (ibid.: 536).

The Death Penalty in the Polish Legal System of the 1940s As pointed out by Lity´nski (2017), in the context of a communist state, the death penalty was one of the basic tools of oppression which was carried out by the judicial organs against opponents of the communist state (persons considered as a direct threat to the communist aspirations). It is worth mentioning that one of the Polish criminal law textbooks published in the 1950s mentioned the above argument explicitly and reaffirmed that the government was still trying to break the resistance of the (internal) class enemies (Arndt, 2015). As such, the death penalty was a default penalty for any anti-state activity (a category which was greatly expanded in criminal law in the PPR) (Holyst, 1994; Kładoczny, 2004). Simultaneously, those in power created and tried to maintain an impression of post-war law as being less punitive than the one of the Second Republic of Poland. The death penalty was imposed on both soldiers and civilians by a firing squad (civilians during the interwar period were hanged). Such overwhelming employment of execution of the death penalty by shooting was similar to the one devised in Soviet criminal law (Arndt, 2015). In a way, considering the above legislation enforced in that timeframe of the 1940s, it can be assumed that the death penalty lost its extraordinary character. As such, an extraordinary character of punishment should only be considered in rare cases (ibid.). Whereas under the communist rule of that time, the death penalty was utilised regularly and on a mass scale. It can be somewhat explained by employing Durkheim’s idea of the social normality of crime, as social morality (which in that case was heavily politically driven) was affecting criminality (Sumner, 1994) and more precisely a perception of what kind of tools should be used to fight opponents of the new political system.

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It is worth recapturing that the above legislation and the attitude of the newly installed officials initiated and executed a process of the militarisation of behaviours. The public was under the incapacitating influence of foreign authorities, the army, and secret security. The state’s apparatus which survived the war together with new instruments of control were used to subdue people through law, courts (military judiciary), and educational process. The state took over the role of a militant parent, which imposed a high degree of discipline on its children (citizens) and initiated a process of incorporation of the militarisation of behaviours into daily life. In addition, an elevated level of militancy was imposed on people who had already gone through six tough war years. Such a venture to control the population, combined with a need to rebuild the country quickly, was a costly enterprise for the new authorities and the citizenry who had to pay that price.

The Parent Figure (De-Militarisation) Period (1956–1976) The Polish Thaw After a decade of lean years, the society was tired of austerity and promises of the prosperity of communism were never fulfilled. Some of those attitudes led to the events of October 1956. In discussing these events (known as the Polish October or the Polish Thaw) in Poland, Strzetelski (1956) alludes to a sudden manifestation of unexpected strength which created a feeling of fundamental force capable of creating a lasting change. The low standard of living and extreme poverty were contributing factors to protests at the time. Strzetelski saw them as being strong enough to achieve a concession from the PPR (and effectively from the USSR), but it did not provide Soviet Russia with an excuse for a military quelling (as a liberation uprising probably would). As a result of the awakening, the press provided information on the economic situation with frankness comparable to a public confession of a failure of the communist economic and political system [including numerous descriptions of the actions of the Soviets as occupants and the

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crimes of the secret police (Bernacki et al., 2005)]. That, together with a revival of the activism in the public sphere, led to a third element of the Polish October, open contestation, and criticisms within the Polish Communist Party. The Polish Thaw, together with an influence of the process of the deStalinisation, created an ideological vacuum within the communist party which needed new directions, and which aimed to rebuild a belief in their ability to achieve just that. The de-Stalinisation was part of the political and economic processes of loosening control of the state over all aspects of life. That was only possible after Joseph Stalin’s death which occurred on the 5th of March 1953; and which led to a loosening of some of the systems of social control. It was a period of the terribly slow but somewhat gradual progress of a legislative change which occurred by eliminating some of the Stalinist standards. The de-Stalinisation led to a loosening of some of the systems of social control and was later responsible for a partial resignation of the Soviets in October 1956, as any strongly imposed system which is in retreat creates a space only to be taken over (instead of that state) by others (steady-state or community leaders, political leaders, or organised crime). On the 6th of May 1956, it was announced on the radio in Warsaw that Wladyslaw Gomulka35 and his collaborators were rehabilitated and would be released from prison. Via the same radio station on the 15th of May 1956, a mass amnesty was announced in relation to crimes committed before the 15th of April 1956, effectively leading to a release of 30,000 persons from prisons (Gardocki, 2015). Comrade Gomulka regained his party rights at the Seventh Plenum of the Central Committee of the Polish United Workers’ Party held on the 5th of August 1956. He was chosen unanimously as the first Party secretary during the next Eighth Plenum of the Party on the 19th of October 1956. This led to the mass removal of Soviet agents from the civil and military administration and their replacement with Gomulka supporters 35

Władysław Gomułka (1905–1982) a supporter of communism ideology and the USSR, from 1945 until 1948 was the first secretary of the Communist party. Gomułka lost this position due to his insubordination towards Joseph Stalin. He managed to regain it in 1956, as to an extent he represented the anti-Stalinist attitude within the Communist party. He retained that position until 1970 (Szumiło, 2014).

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(Strzetelski, 1956). It was the beginning of the period where the state stepped in as a parent figure. Some Polish people referred to that period as communism with a human face. The state, in a public view, refrained from the most ostensible forms of social control and it did not impose itself on people with the same intensity as previously. The systems of control were still in place but were more hidden from the public eye. To gain more social acceptance, these attempts to change public perceptions were supported by some social and infrastructural investments. The relaxation of governmental policies after the events of 1956 also brought about a partial easing of an existing repressionism of criminal law (Arndt, 2015). One of the symptoms of that was a certain liberalisation of the penal policy and a limitation of judgements holding death penalties (which were still heavily present in the procedural criminal law of that time). Arndt highlights that the last few months of 1956 were a time when a new de legel ferenda discussion was initiated (inside and outside the academia) around the rationale, role, and applicability of the death penalty. All of this was happening in the context of the communist system, which would portray itself as more humanitarian than any other (democratic) system. Nonetheless, the death penalty remained a part of the legal system (and was transposed into the 1969 Criminal Code) up until 1998 when it was struck out of criminal law with the introduction of a new Criminal Code 1997. Nevertheless, in 1989, as part of the democratic transition, it was suspended indefinitely by a memorandum. Considering the overall relaxation of the state’s repression, Czy˙zak (2007) highlights the existence of the special commission established on the 10th of December 1956 (as a result of the Polish Thaw) to assess the activity of former employees of the Main Directorate of Information of the Polish Army, Chief Military Prosecutor Office, and the Supreme Military Court.36 It was known as the Mazur’s Commission, and its main scope focused on procedural, evidence, and factual faults of employees in these bodies, as much as on their participation in directing political processes, and more broadly on an introduction of legal terrorism of any kind. 36

Polish: Komisja dla zbadania odpowiedzialno´sci byłych pracowników Głównego Zarz˛adu Informacji, Naczelnej Prokuratury Wojskowej i Najwy˙zszego S˛adu Wojskowego.

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In the context of some of the organisational changes taking place then, Dudek and Paczkowski make an interesting suggestion that the main reason for the 1956 organisational changes was to hide the entire “security apparatus within … [the structures of the Ministry of Internal Affairs] (at the central level) and within the Citizens’ Militia (at the provincial and district levels)” (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005: 228). Importantly, it was not dismantled but only moved elsewhere. That could be due to the embarrassment associated with the existence and usage of this oppressive apparatus. It was convenient to have such a security apparatus on hand wherever the state might need it. In any case, 1956 brought a breath of fresh air into the already stifled structures of the PPR. Nonetheless, the initial attempts to loosen the PPR’s relationship with the USSR only had a limited lifespan. After years of only small social and economic changes, people adjusted to everyday hardships by carrying on with state matters as usual, but with a gradual increase of the state’s interventions in the individual lives of its citizens, however. The de-Stalinisation formed conditions in which criminal law and its oppressive character were questioned and looked at more closely, which resulted in new legislation in the form of the 1969 Criminal Code which had been preceded by three squashed drafts produced in 1951,37 1956, and 1963. The last draft, which was submitted on the 9th of March 1968, was changed substantially (Gidynski, 1971). Conclusively, those dates indicate moments of significance to changing political attitudes which prevented the enactment of new criminal legislation (as 1951 signifies some attitudes of the Stalinisation stage; 1956 brought about the de-Stalinisation; 1963 marks the Gomulka’s Plan,38 and 1968 saw political frictions within the Polish United Workers’ Party and students’

37

“The Ministry of Justice presented in 1951 a draft of a general part modelled faithfully on the legislation of the USSR and other communist countries. … It was an extremely clumsy legislation” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 75). 38 It was an attempt to stop the Cold War arms race, as the plan proposed freezing of nuclear and thermonuclear reinforcements. Its predecessor Rapacki’s Plan was presented by the Polish Foreign Minister Adam Rapacki on the 2nd of October 1957 which was a limited plan calling for a demilitarisation in Central Europe (Zaj˛ac & Zi˛eba, 2009).

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demonstration during March 196839 ). Considering the new legislative attentiveness, Gidynski (1971) notes that the Polish slogan ‘building of socialism’ as a political aim took over the ideas of modern penological policy and practice in the PPR. That resulted in a lack of consideration in applying ideas emerging out of sociology or criminology40 because socialism41 (Holyst, 1994, 2022) prided itself on being capable of eliminating any forms of crime by compulsory work assignments, which in principle should eradicate crime (As, when everyone is working, according to this assumption, the wage from that work should demotivate everyone to engage in criminal activity). Such propaganda did not impede changes taking place in the state and the criminal justice system. The year 1969 was like an extended moment of significance to the development of the Polish criminal justice system. Then, the new criminal legislation was enacted. It used the experience and properties of post-war era legislation. Also, it was incorporated into the new communist legislation (Wasek & Frankowski, 1993), which was very punitive in nature. The end of that period is characterised by a changeover of powers when Władysław Gomułka (1956–1970) was replaced on the 20th of December 1970 by the new first secretary, Edward Gierek. That change of power meant a continuation during the 1970s of more economically driven politics, with a focus on social and economic growth. However, economic hardship was still felt by most Poles. Censorship was in full operation as much as it was in every other state’s repressive institution. Then and there, the state through its officials eased off some of the elements of state control measures allowing for some liberty, an attitude which can be associated with a parent who is in control of their children and who misled these children to believe that they have a certain degree of freedom. That disposition is a sign of a new period in the militarisation of behaviours, with more emphasis placed on covert elements of the 39

It was a reaction to Arab–Israeli war of 1967, and Gomułka’s anti-Israel and anti-Jewish rhetoric which was partially responsible for the mass emigration of Polish citizens of Jewish origin. 40 For example, by using the Model Penal Code published in 1962 by the American Law Institute as a reference point. 41 The state failed to achieve the communism stage of societal progression and was staying in the socialist era; and at the same time, it did not address the growing problem of crime.

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state’s operations. That led the public to believe that the state retreated from the private sphere of its citizens.

Parental Failure (Ultra-Militarisation) Period (1976–1989) The beginning of this third and final period is marked by street riots protesting price hikes in 1976 (especially occurring on the Baltic Coast) and a violent response from the state using the army to repress these.42 Swidlicki (1984) sees events of that time as a bonding experience and the major driving force of the Solidarity movement. The parental protection and support depicted by the state were in no way achieved in the PPR, causing frustration, impatience, and anger within Polish society. The state has not delivered on most economic and social promises. Hence, people’s hardship continued. It was time for a transformation which could lead to a change of powers or alteration of the somewhat softened state’s approach towards its citizens. When the state’s officials were successful in maintaining their status throughout the end of the 1970s, the Polish people were left to swallow that defeat and consider options of further defiance. Nonetheless, the 1980s brought about more social control and state invasion of private matters. As the authors of the studied legal textbook note, “[t]here is no inherent freedom. Freedom in totalitarianism means an obligation towards the state” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 58). A scarcity of food led to the implementation of food rationing and widespread social protests. Political elites were not in control anymore and someone else was to step in—the army.

42

But also, to break the bond forged between the intelligentsia and the workers (Swidlicki, 1984).

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The 1981 Decrees As a result of the political and economic situation, Martial Law was introduced by four decrees (the Martial Law Decree,43 the Decree on Special Procedures, the Decree on the Special Powers of the Military Courts, and the Abolition Decree) on the 12th of December 1982 and enforced the next day on Sunday, the 13th of December 1981. As part of that, a military body (calling itself perversely the Military Council of National Salvation) granted themselves powers which did not exist, and which were not envisioned by the Constitution (or other legislation enacted rightfully and ordinarily). The Martial Law Decree imposed a curfew and severe penalties for disobedience, restricted movement, and the possibility to exercise one’s civil rights. It treated public assembly and any form of trade union activism as punishable offences. Effectively, the conditions created by the state resembled a regular war situation. The same decree allowed military authorities to intern those who were placed on previously prepared lists of anti-government and party opposers. The internment was a form of deprivation of one’s freedom without a court sentence. Decisions to intern oppositionists were not announced before its implementation,44 and there was no legal way to appeal these. People placed in the internment camps were subjected to strict military discipline (Swidlicki, 1984), which was a symptom of a situation where the militarisation of behaviours is intensified. Enactment of the martial law catalogue of criminal regulations in 1981 with its severity marked the beginning of more severe treatment by the state of its citizens (ultra-the militarisation of behaviours). Some norms of the newly established martial law legal ramification were later integrated through amendments into the Penal Code and the Code of Criminal Procedure. The 1981 decrees were characterised by their vagueness of wording, their scope, and possible punishments (ibid.). That on

43

The Decree on the State of War is commonly known as the Martial Law Decree. People from those lists were taken in the middle of the night 12/13th December 1981 and were transported to the internment camps.

44

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its own afforded the procurators (prosecutors) a looser interpretation and application of these pseudo-legislative pieces.45 When martial law was in force, the state’s most significant economic sectors were militarised by a decision of the National Defence Committee (NDC). “Militarization embraced mining, the steel industry, power stations, transport, post, telecommunications, and other related enterprises. Work discipline was tightened” (ibid.: 112). Similarly, to the situation in the Polish National Railways in 1944, the legal nature of employment changed from employment based on contract to a soldier’s duty. Likewise, a person in breach of their duties was tried by military courts, and an employee was not allowed to quit their work, as it was treated as desertion. The needs of the militarised enterprises determined one’s working hours and, in most cases, resulted in lowering one’s salary. These militarised enterprises were managed in military style, with strict military supervision. Even the non-militarised companies also imposed stricter discipline. In all cases, union members lost their protection and rights to consult unions on labour-related matters. Similarly, in most enterprises, the presence of the militia, security service officers, and the military was very pronounced (ibid.). Within the first six months of martial law, approximately a quarter of a million people were tried and sentenced by the regional, voivodeship, and martial courts. Swidlicki (1984) recalls the words of Commander Henryk Kostrzewa, who supervised the work of the Ministry of Justice during the Martial Law: we need sentences passed quickly, in accordance with the law, sentences necessitated by the conditions of martial law, that is to say—severe. The first line of battle runs through the courts. (ibid., 1984: 100)

Effectively, the state’s officials were at war (an internal war) with Polish citizens. That reaction indicates complications in the complete and successful enforcement of the militarisation of behaviours on these people. In other cases, not related to Poland, it could mean that the 45 These have been similarly to the 1940s decrees enforced without a formal basis and against a formal enactment procedure which created more space to abuse their powers.

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militarisation of behaviours was imposed too strongly (where together with the severe economic conditions the situation was unbearable and left people with no other choice than to take it to the streets) or not strongly enough (allowing people to strike back for a received treatment). Allegedly, martial law was introduced for reasons of state security. Whereas the real aims were to pacify Polish society and to eradicate the Solidarity movement (ibid.). Martial law was not known to Polish legislation at the time (which only recognised a state of war ). Then, several decrees were superimposed on the existing regulations as a form of emergency legislation. Swidlicki (1984) views it as an alternative which could have been avoided with enough political will to establish a dialogue with representatives of the Solidarity movement. Nonetheless, any negotiations would expose a lack of credibility and social support for the communist party (which purportedly should be representing the interests and views of the ordinary people). Wasek and Frankowski (1993) review some of the opinions shared by more radical politicians of the early 1990s, referring to the PPR as a communist regime imposed by a foreign power. They saw it as illegitimate from the start, and on that basis, any legislation produced by it would be invalid entirely without a need to pass any law to that effect. That is interesting in the context of the discussion on the validity of the initial war and post-war legislation, which formed the basis for future communist legislation in the PPR. For, if that were deemed invalid (as it was) from a legal point of view, then the entire legal system was baseless. Therefore, any judgement hinged on it should be appropriately revoked post factum. In Shaw’s (1991) view, the period of a relatively stable and war-free time of the so-called Second Cold War was still a time during which all sides of that conflict prepared themselves for war; it was also a time to recuperate. Similarly, back then, the PPR was undergoing an ultra-the militarisation of behaviours. It is common knowledge that one of the reasons for the financial failure of the Soviet bloc (together with low oil prices on the international market on which that bloc relied heavily) was associated with a massive scale of militarisation and weapons build-up during that particular period.

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The third and final period, the parental failure/disillusionment discussed here, shows that the state can use a full array of options offered by the militarisation of behaviours. When in the late 1970s and early 1980s the state’s officials felt that they were losing grip over the state and Polish society, they initiated a more abrupt, forceful, and direct implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. This led to social unrest at that time, economic decline, and a discreditation of socialism as a system portraying itself as representing people’s interests.

Leadership in the Polish People’s Republic The process of the militarisation of behaviours was implemented based on the decisions of political leaders. Thus, it is important to investigate the formation of leadership in the PPR and their relationship with the Soviets, the military, and decrees. That way, we can highlight conditions which led to the development and implementation of the militarisation of behaviours in the PPR. Leadership is associated with power and authority. It can be viewed as a decision-making tool (or rather a skill) to control people without using coercion (Łubi´nski, 2016). Ordinarily, political leadership has an individualistic character (Schmidt, 2016). One of the reasons for the weakness of the PPR’s leadership from its inception was that strong leadership was residing outside of the PPR; his name was Joseph Stalin. Also, Wasek and Frankowski (1993) indicate that the criminal justice system was taken over by so-called Soviet advisors, who were acting from behind the scenes and influencing the system in times when political interventions were needed. That prohibited the growth of a generation of new political leaders from the 1940s onwards. It is worth mentioning that after Stalin’s death, a new era of cooperation began, and social tension eased off somewhat on several political and social fronts allowing for more intellectual and factual freedom. Nonetheless, due to a lack of distinct and strong leadership, the country ended up only having some economic growth in the 1970s (aided by international loans which were finally repaid in 2009). In addition, the lack of strong political leadership in the long-term—coupled

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with some distinct leadership present during the 1970s—allowed for the introduction of the martial law of the 1980s ushered in by military leadership. From the beginning of PPR’s existence, military leadership and military modi operandi were very strongly present and embedded in the state’s structure. It was a challenging task to simply abandon it. In the post-war period, it was a secondary and backup mode of operations of the state; and the state would revert to it at any point whenever political troubles would become visible in any way. Still, it is not only about military strength, which is obviously quite important in sustaining an authoritative state in control. In its milder form, the militarisation of behaviours was utilised most of the time after 1944. However, while, a more severe version of the militarisation of behaviours was used as a backup plan in times of political or social failure (and as it was already mentioned, the political leadership was very weak most of the time and on most fronts). The army is an important reference point for the state implementing the militarisation of behaviours. One should view the role of the army through the prism of the twentieth-century historical situation and, especially, the interwar period. It was that time when due to the European geopolitical situation, the Second Polish Republic was surrounded from the East and West by two totalitarian regimes (the USSR and Nazi Germany). In the eyes of many people in Poland at the time, the weak leadership which emerged out of the democratic order was not sufficiently equipped to deal with the issues faced by a democratic and pluralist country after the First World War. That attitude led to the events of May 1926 when an authoritarian political-military leadership was established as a result of a military coup. As such, it might be claimed that the military as a force was used whenever the country needed to re-establish and stabilise itself in the face of external threats. The most significant difference between the events of 1926 and 1945 lies in the source of the rationale for the two seizures of power. In the first instance, the takeover of powers occurred because of a threat of aggression from neighbouring countries. Whereas in the latter case, it was done after a seizure of powers by one of these entities which previously posed that threat. In other words, the rationale for these events was different, as the first was about the retention of power and leadership, and the second

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was about establishing a new political leadership over the gained territory. Nevertheless, both events were about gaining power and doing that in a manner which allowed citizens to accept their political leadership. From a historical perspective, an interwar period had a significant impact on the post-war period and the social position of the army. According to Schmidt (2016), the army in the Second Polish Republic was one of the most promising centres of career development. The army offered stable intellectual and financial foundations, and it was one of the primary beneficiaries of the public budget. Also, stability was offered during times of an unstable international situation due to: (1) the great depression, (2) a multilateral contestation of the Treaty of Versailles (resulting in the regaining of the Polish statehood), and (3) an overall militarisation occurring throughout Europe (ibid.: 41). One can only assume that military leadership was employed in Poland due to a lack of a clear and successive leadership amongst civilians who would be able to persuade people to follow and cooperate with the new political entity. Similarly, sometimes the state can naively place faith in the military system; as in principle and at first sight, it seems to be a reliable and easily controllable formation. Although leadership does not stem directly from authority (as well as leadership from power), these are reference points for one another, and they regularly overlap (Schmidt, 2016). If one of the key features of military leadership is an element of coercion (which is not exclusive only to its military form), then it became apparent why military leadership resonates with authoritarian regimes. The military leadership became a preferred choice during any enforcement of a new government, and the military modi operandi became engraved on the new political system in post-War Poland. As such, it permeated, not only the governmental institutions but also every social and political institution and was retained long after the PPR was gone from the geopolitical scene. The Polish army was viewed in the time of the enduring threat of the nuclear conflict as a foundation needed to maintain the security of the state and its citizens. As a result, the army became a dominant political reference point (Schmidt, 2016), which would be invoked in times of need or during weak political leadership.

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A Polish Political Leadership in the Twentieth Century Within political leadership and broad masses of people who support their representatives, a group of leaders usually emerge (with a distinct leader in the forefront). Due to this relationship, the leader is supposed to gain power and maximise a period of staying in that power (ibid.). Schmidt discusses two possible scenarios of establishing a political-military leadership. The first is a military coup, which is the most common way to take control of the leadership by the leaders of the army. That was the case with the May 1926 coup. Secondly, after a war ends unfavourably for the country, it might in most cases, result in a seizure of power over the country with some element of a (perceived) limited sovereignty. Such a situation occurred in Poland between 1944 and 1989. In a similar vein, it is interesting that Schmidt (2016) directs our attention to the historical importance of military leadership by listing all of the military leaders occupying the most significant military and civilian roles from 1918 (a year when the Second Polish Republic gained its independence) until recent times. He calculated that during a period of over one hundred years, a significant share of people who occupied the highest offices in the country fulfilled the criteria of military leadership (by being a military person or having a distinct relationship with the army). Amongst them, we can find nine prime ministers, seven ministers responsible for controlling the army, and five chairmen of the State Council. On its own, the above is a strong signal indicating possible employment of the militarisation of behaviours within the state by those who, through their military education (hidden military curriculum), and training (inclusive of guilty military knowledge), was attuned to the military, its structure, modus operandi, and modus vivendi. In Schmidt’s view, the most often occurrences of political-military leadership in the Polish context happened throughout two distinct timeframes: first, from May 1926 until September 1939, and second, from July 1944 up until September 1989 (ibid.). During the 1970s and 1980s, the military gradually took over a power vacuum that was created by fragmentation and the actual dissolution of the Polish United Workers’ Party. It was seen that, as the Party created a mess, the army would have to then clean it up (Fajfer, 1993;

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Johnson & Kliszewski, 1983). The army could exercise its military leadership continuously. Nonetheless, there was a possibility that, because of prolonged exposure of the military to politics, military professionalism could be stained and blemished. Then, the main political-military figure was General Jaruzelski, who became defence minister in 1968. In 1981, he effectively introduced a militocracy when the communist party disintegrated; and when the Solidarity movement was strongly wounded, and was bleeding due to the actions of the military (ibid.). For military personnel, a situation of social unrest on the Baltic coast in 1970 created a certain disgust for politics and reinforced a distancing of the army from politics. This, coupled with the professionalisation of the army, was the reason why the military in over a decade managed to build a distinct position to party politicians. In addition, the Polish People’s Army at the time was not the best equipped, but it was the second biggest army in the Warsaw Pact after the Soviets, and effectively the third biggest one in Europe. That could moderately become translated into political and social power (ibid.) and might explain the strong implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. In the 1980s, the military leaders primarily utilised ZOMO (the Motorized Reserves of the Citizens’ Militia) which was a leading civilian security formation (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005). At the time, it was very well-equipped46 and was used instead of regular military units. According to Johnson and Kliszewski (1983), it was a way to avoid the mistakes of the Gdansk riots of 1970 when the army confronted the demonstrators directly. The employment of ZOMO distracted public attention away from the real enforcers of the orders. Similarly, securitisation of the internal security units accommodated and took some of the public pressure on the army, but it also acted as an intermediary between the army (representing the state effectively in the 1980s) and society. ZOMO was known for its violent and decisive modus operandi, as that formation was mainly used when officials needed to deal brutally with protesters (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005).

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It consisted of rebellious youth, ex-offenders, political loyalists, prisoners released for that duty and former soldiers. ZOMO offered a steady career with an allocated apartments and above average pay conditions (Johnson & Kliszewski, 1983).

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The real strength of the Polish People’s Army did not lie in its military weaponry or potential, but rather in the numbers of its soldiers, which in conjunction with the USSR army, had the potential to dissuade any foreign power from military intervention. Whereas internally, its strength lay in the military leadership which could gather power outside of the army. The army’s potential was mostly redundant when it came to its ad hoc security role, as the Polish People’s Army could have never achieved its full potential (comparable to its status on paper) when faced with a military confrontation. The army was never ready to be used instantly. It was common knowledge that due to the process of compulsory militarisation of most of the male population, the same issues which were present in the society were to be replicated and even amplified in the army. Alcohol was one of the most significant issues in the Polish army at the time, which affected its readiness for any battle (including a political one). The army was overcrowded and underfunded. Having to accommodate and maintain too many recruits, for two years each, while having limited resources, meant that most of them would only attain basic training and understanding of a military system. An initiation in the form of the army wave was, next to alcohol, the second biggest issue. The social role of the army wave was to incorporate the recruits into the army in a way that would bind them with others. It instead created an element of resentment in society in relation to the army, as the wave was an additional tool of social conditioning during the time of clear and continuous state indoctrination. That resentment was displayed when men attempted to avoid army call-ups by any means possible. It was like a badge of honour (Courtenay, 2006) for anyone who escaped from the process of compulsory and universal military mobilisation.

The Duality of the Political Leadership System (Partisan and Public) The army was not the only social formation affected by its intricate situation. The political system of the PPR was a complex one as officials and officeholders were not necessarily the decision-makers. They were answering to relevant political individuals from the Polish United

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Workers’ Party (abbreviated in polish as PZPR). Politically, PZPR was a ruling party and a main political force.47 In other words, there was a secondary and parallel political (and decision-making) structure in place. It was the country’s secondary safety layer placed to retain its influence over its assets. As such, it was a dilution of the political, and any other, responsibility for one’s action. Such a political duality was embedded in the country’s structure; and it was represented in the attitude of most who worked in the public sector (which was a predominant choice, as the state officials treated the private sector as insecure and possibly influenced by the foreign powers). In Polish tradition, leadership is inextricably linked with the political sphere (Schmidt, 2016). It can be multilevel and heterogeneous, which adds to its internal complexity. In addition, one of the common denominators of the definition of political leadership rests on its purposefulness (ibid.). In addition, both political and military leaders can share the same social and economic background, which can act as a platform for understanding. As C. Wright Mills (1967) argued in The Power Elite, the elites share a common social background built on a convergence of economic, political, and military power (See: Miliband, 1971; Ritzer, 2007; Schneider, 1971).

Conclusions When wartime is over, it might be hard for the country’s officials to accept the idea of not having any well-known and used to instruments as part of their social toolbox, as well as not being able to utilise these anymore. Military drill (as much as another tool from the militarisation of behaviours arsenal), military modus operandi, and modus vivendi, it might be argued, became the second nature of some officials in the Polish People’s Republic in the inter- and post-war times. It arose to 47 The other two satellite parties had a limited influence over the country’s matters. Politically, these existed for two reasons. Firstly, these create a false impression of a multi-party system and democracy in support of the ideological stance of a socialist democracy represented in the country’s name (the Polish People’s Republic). Secondly, these allowed people who had to sign up to a political party (a compulsory requirement for anyone who was about to take a higher position in any of the state’s companies or administration) to join a political party which was considered by most as a lesser evil.

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the extent that those officials, and institutions employing them, become accustomed to approaching specific problems with that military-like attitude. As a result of the above, and a general weakness of the political elites in the PPR in the 1970s, military leaders became prominents figures in the 1980, which lead to an internal junta of the military personnel. It might be argued that the political base of the ruling party could not maintain the country’s economic stability in times when a global conflict and the general destabilisation of the Soviet bloc escalated. Due to these reasons and others which are not so clear-cut, the political reins were taken over by the military. That helped to blur the civil-military boundaries. Building on Malinowski’s (1980) argument (a clear divide between civil and military operations during the war), Baranowska (2016) discusses the more destructive nature of the contemporary war-craft. In her view, due to some of the processes of globalisation, the world becomes one cultural and economic totality. As a result, that totality is visible in the way military operations are performed during wartime where one finds themselves unable to differentiate between military and civil personnel. Conversely, the military rigidness crested a generation of people leaning towards, and sensitive to, simple solutions. That attitude, combined with an inability to question one’s situation, allows for a massscale manipulation of that society. As in those circumstances, people are easily persuaded by simple black-and-white metaphors and solutions, without giving any consideration to the existence of a grey area. Simplicity is the key, as it allows it to portray matters as having, or lacking, certain qualities which match the state’s preconceived description. The straightforwardness of that thinking allows for direct manipulation and a lack of critical thinking, which is a base on which regimes can build their supremacy. However, the rigidness of the social system (employing the militarisation of behaviours) can be devastating to it. When a division occurs in that system (like in the Polish communist party in the middle of the 1970s), it can lead to a questioning of its integrity, honesty, and other undermining values; consequently, leading to a further investigation of the reasoning, assumptions, and believes bringing people closer to critical questioning of that system. Then, the king is finally naked, and the

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system is on a brink of collapse. Therefore, the only solution for the state’s officials is to use a tool that is most well-known to them (the militarisation of behaviours). Therefore, the generation of people exposed to a form of a military-like tool of oppression and approach know it well and becomes accustomed to it over time. Hence, considering the above, it is understandable why so many believe(d) in a rationale for the introduction of Martial Law in 1981 offered by General Jaruselski (and other military leaders), resting on the idea that Soviet tanks were on the fringes of the Polish borders. In addition, nothing unites a nation like a common enemy. Overall, Jaruzelski employed a principle of divideand-conquer, combined with silencing (or instead of an ultimate societal quelling). Poles had two choices in those circumstances, either to respond in the form of total disobedience or, reversely, be entirely obedient to that military rule. A Polish example shows, to an extent, that a process of the militarisation of behaviours can be a common one, as several general processes as part of the militarisation of behaviours used by the state’s officials in the PPR can be used elsewhere. In addition, it is universal, as the state applies it to most of the people living in a state. It also demonstrates how a military society can be created in an appropriate moment (moment of significance to a societal development). Military society, according to Brotz and Wilson (1946), is characterised by (1) a clear hierarchy of command, (2) a rigid stratification, (3) a self-containment, and (4) a high level of atomisation and isolation. One can claim that society in a state employing the militarisation of behaviours is (1) controlled by that state, (2) rigidly stratified, (3) self-contained, and (4) atomised. Both schemas when tied together create a clear picture in which the army directly (through its senior staff ) or political forces (by instrumentally using the army) can take control over the military(-ised) society.48

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That resembles the interpretation of Foucault’s (1982) consideration on docile bodies made by Deleuze (1992) while discussing people contained in spaces, like factories. Deleuze noted that to achieve a greater productivity and obedience people need to be placed in conditions where they (1) are distributed in space, (2) concentrated, (3) have their time organised, and also where (4) the density of chronotopes (spacetime) is utilised.

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Likewise, considering the state’s safety and sustainability, an army is a necessary tool for maintaining the survival of the state. Such a statement accounts for nothing more than that state’s continuous existence and survival. It may seem then during conflicts that a state gains its own identity (on which it is relaying, similarly the Benedict Anderson’s [1991] imagined community) and consciousness, allowing its citizens to portray it in a certain way. Still, war is a time when a state goes into self-preservation mode and can sacrifice its tissue (its citizens and resources) to sustain itself. Such situations create favourable conditions for the incorporation of processes like the militarisation of behaviours. If the state’s situation can be described as military-like, it means that this country is always in suicidal mode—ready to scarify itself or its portion (or rather a portion of its citizens) to sustain itself. Then, the question is, who might end up in that position of being potentially sacrificed by the state.49 In the Polish context that led to the introduction of robust militarylike instruments. Therefore, instruments resembling military ones are used as a direct consequence of war (or war-like conditions) and a continuation of all too familiar war horrors. Secondly, a strong reaction was needed in order to rein in a population which was used to wartime and warzone situations. This previous sentence is not an evaluation of the situation and has no axiological consequences. It merely describes the logic of those in power back in the day, and not the author’s one. It looks like it was a simple (and understood at the time) consequence of the previous six years of wartime and plans to go forward under the Soviets’ reins. In addition, the military drill is an exaggerated response to, and the attempt of, what would be nowadays referred to as a (large-scale) team-building experience. It allowed people to come together after years of uncertainty, hostility, and pure down-to-earth fear for themselves and others. It might be viewed as an amplified attempt to bring people together. During that process, the state hoped that citizens would

49 That resembles the current attitude of the Russian state towards its own citizens and soldiers deployed and used as part of the invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

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channel to-be-built unity and use it to support a newly forming government imposed by a foreign power. It is a matter of naivety to believe that the military force will bring people closer. Only fear of that military power would do that. Nonetheless, at the same time, fear prevents some people from involving themselves in actions against yet another (in that particular situation) power-grabbing pro-Soviet government. The importance of such a military approach is directly connected with the fact that a substantial number of Polish citizens at the time held (or owned) different forms of weapons which might be then used to overthrow the still-to-be-formed government (the UPP and later the PCLN); especially if a process of building unity would not be supervised carefully by those who facilitated it in the first place (the Soviets). The softened version of that mentioned military power was a strict execution of a stream of consecutive so-called five-year plans. Those plans were a form of a contemporary socialist roadmap, setting up economic, social, and political agendas (and goals) which should be achieved in a prescribed five-year time frame (i.e., concentrating on (re)building-specific infrastructural projects, entire branches of the economy, or counteracting illiteracy). It is commonly known that the first plan was rolled out in 1956 and implemented fully in 1960. As the state failed in practice to achieve these plans, the social and economic conditions produced favourable settings for the emergence of organised crime groups (Kaucz, 2019).

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Rankin, G. (1940). Legal problems of Poland after 1918. Transactions of the Grotius Society, 26 , 1–34. Ritzer, G. (Ed.). (2007). The Blackwell encyclopedia of sociology. Blackwell. Rudzinski, A. W. (1956). Sovietization of civil law in Poland. American Slavic and East European Review, 15 (2), 216. https://doi.org/10.2307/3000978 Schmidt, P. (2016). Przywództwo polityczne-militarne. Egzemplifikacja poj˛ecia na podstawie najnowszej historii Polski [Political and military leadership. Exemplification of the concept based on the recent history of Poland] In: Łubi´nski, P. (Ed.), Wieloaspektowo´s´c bada´n kluczem do rozwoju nauk o polityce. Katolicki Uniwersytet Lubelski Jana Pawła II. Wydział Zamiejscowy Nauk o Społecze´nstwie. Schneider, E. V. (1971). The sociology of C. Wright Mills. In G. W. Domhoff (Ed.), C. Wright Mills and the power elite. Beacon Press. Sczaniecki, M. (2000). Powszechna historia pa´nstwa i prawa [The general history of the state and law] (K. Sójka-Zieli´nska, Ed.). Wydawnictwa Prawnicze PWN. Shaw, M. (1991). Post-military society: Militarism, demilitarization, and war at the end of the twentieth century. Temple University Press. Soanes, C., Hawker, S., & Elliott, J. (Eds.). (2006). Paperback Oxford English dictionary (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press. Sowa, A. (2011). Historia polityczna Polski 1944–1991 [The political history of Poland 1944–1991] (Wyd. 1). Wydawn. Literackie. Stewart, W. (2006). Collins dictionary of law (3rd ed.). Collins. Strzetelski, S. (1956). The background of the October events in Poland. The Polish Review, 1(4), 68–79. Sumner, C. (1994). The sociology of deviance: An obituary. Open University Press. Swidlicki, A. (1984). Mechanisms of repression in Poland during martial law. The Polish Review, 29 (1/2), 97–126. Szumiło, M. (2014). Kierownictwo Polskiej Partii Robotniczej (1945–1948)— portret historyczno-socjologiczny [The leadership of the Polish Workers’ Party (1945–1948)—Historical and Sociological Portrait]. Kwartalnik Historyczny, 121(2), 287. https://doi.org/10.12775/KH.2014.121.2.02 Tuszy´nski, M., & Denda, D. F. (1999). Soviet War crimes against Poland during the Second World War and its aftermath: A review of the factual record and outstanding questions. The Polish Review, 44 (2), 183–216. Wagner, W. J. (1990). Legal problems of inter-war Poland (1918–1939). The Polish Review, 35 (1), 27–36.

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Wasek, A., & Frankowski, S. (1993). Evolution of the Polish Criminal Justice System after World War Two—An overview. European Journal of Crime, Criminal Law and Criminal Justice, 1(2), 143–166. https://doi.org/10.1163/ 157181793X00288 Wróbel, W., & Zoll, A. (2014). Polskie prawo karne: cz˛e´s´c ogólna [Polish Criminal Law: General Part]. Społeczny Instytut Wydawniczy Znak. Wrzyszcz, A. (2016). Hierarchia aktów prawnych prowadzonych przez okupanta Niemieckiego w Generalnym Gubernatorstwie w latach 1939– 1945 [The Hierarchy of legal acts conducted under the German occupancy in the General Governship in 1939–1945]. Studia Iuridica Lublinensia, 22, 695–708. Zaj˛ac, J., & Zi˛eba, R. (2009). Polska w stosunkach mi˛edzynarodowych 1945– 1989 [Poland—International Relations 1945–1989]. Wydawnictwa Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego. Zieli´nski, Z. (2003). Ko´sciół w Polsce: 1944—2002 [The Catholic Church in Poland: 1944—2002]. Polskie Wydawn. Encyklopedyczne.

3 Ireland, Church, and Emergency Legislation

Introduction In Ireland, the militarisation of behaviours was achieved somewhat differently than in Poland. The foundation for that process was created by the foreign leftover legislation (for example, the death penalty which was transplanted together with the British legislation into the Irish legal system protected mostly the state officials). When considering a detailed discussion on the historical influences of twentieth-century Irish legislation, it is becoming evident that the Partition played a significant role in shaping the criminal justice system in Ireland. Decades later, the state responded to the Troubles by adding more legal instruments available to the state’s apparatus, for example, the Offences Against the State Acts which effectively suspended the ordinary constitutional rights and the increased powers of An Gárda Síochána (the Irish police force). Both the Catholic Church and Gardai had an elevated level of authority which was fed off each other and boosted by the state’s authority. At the same time, a lack of a father figure (resulting from women’s subordination and males’ escape from fatherhood) led priests to gain a position similar to father figures. That was also strengthened by a level of paternalism © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3_3

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instilled by the state and church (relating to how to raise one’s children, and how to live and reinforced further, for example, by the means of propaganda). The state legislature—by normalising the emergency legislation and special powers (the Special Criminal Court and the Special Military Court)—created a duality of the Irish criminal system (ordinary and extraordinary) and which to a degree is inconsequential. The state officials directed the public attention to urban crime, organised crime, and the activities of the paramilitaries by using moral panics to create a feeling that the state is under siege. The application of moral panics made it easier for the Irish people to rally behind the state and church as these institutions portrayed themselves as able to protect society from these depicted threats. At the same time, the church through its actions and theological rules tried to attain a level of social homogeneity. As a result, the Catholic Church played a significant role in establishing and maintaining the system of coercive confinement. It took control over important social aspects of the state-run institutions, namely, health, education, and welfare. That was happening in the absence of the state in these spheres of civil life and with its support. That allowed the church to gain control over the Irish population by gradually expanding its services and shaping the minds of Irish people. The militarisation of behaviours was a useful mechanism to rein in the Irish population when the state was unable to sustain its interests and control. In those instances, states while employing the militarisation of behaviours can resort to violence and coercion, especially when these can be justified as matters of state security or public morality. These efforts were strengthened and supplemented by a level of censorship and control over the means of information. At the same time, the state and church used processes of othering and dehumanisation of minorities and those who disobeyed the institutions of the state or church. That led to an imposition of instruments of social control (using permanent liminality and chronotopes) as well as forms of institutionalised control (including non-prison total institutions) alongside the successful degradation ceremonies. The expatriation acted as a subsidiary form of social control resulting in removing disobedient people from the state. Simultaneously, the secrecy was curated by the public which in turn failed to question the reasons behind the practices

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of coercive confinement and specific cases of people held captive in some of the total institutions. Marital status, gender-related aspects, and sexuality were factors which could determine if a person was placed in one of these institutions. As a result, females of a certain age were domesticated, institutionalised, or forced to emigrate. That brought about the creation of the superstructure of discipline limiting the life chances of females to fully participate in and contribute to civil life in Ireland.

The Development of the Criminal Law in Ireland The Irish criminal justice system dates back at least to the fifth century when Brehon laws (Osborough, 1999) have been put in writing (before these existed in oral tradition). It was influenced by the Scandinavian raiders (until 1014) and Norman invaders from England (starting in the twelfth century). The complete subjectification to English rule was achieved much later when the English common law was imposed on the isle of Ireland. The enforcement of Poyning’s Law in 1495 and Yelverton’s Act in 1781 made all English laws applicable to Ireland. In the times of Cromwell, “a policy of extermination of the native Irish was followed and their land parcelled out among adventurers, and a new English and Puritan landlordly imposed on Ireland” (Walker, 1980: 647). During the late seventeen and the beginning of the eighteen century—as part of what is known as the Penal Laws—Ireland was subjected to harsh regulations. In 1690, a Test Act of 1691 was passed, and it excluded Catholics from the Dublin Parliament. Additional measures were imposed between 1702 and 1715 to further repress the Irish (and in fact mostly Catholic) majority. The late eighteenth century saw a moderate relieving of the repressiveness of the state policies towards the Irish people (ibid.). The final removal of all previous punitive laws happened when the Government of Ireland Act 1920 (known as the Fourth Home Rule Bill) was introduced during the Irish War of Independence. From 1801 until 1922, Ireland shared the same legal framework as England (Lawrence, 2014) and the Irish criminal justice system was effectively a regional branch of the British system (McDermott, 2007). Similarly, the penal system, the courts, and the police were viewed as “the

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coercive arm of an alien colonial power” (ibid.: 5) because of their repressive character, especially towards nationalist, landless people, and those in poverty. When considering legislative answers to state-organised corruption, Byrne et al. (2016) noted that it combines elements of inertia and reliance on British legislation (1854–1916). The first substantial anticorruption law since 1922 was the Ethics in Public Office Act 1995. For the next decade, another 25 legislative initiatives were enacted that addressed corruption in some way. To this day, the British legal system acts as a point of reference in Ireland, and Irish citizens are not viewed as foreigners for the purposes of UK law (Jackson & Tushnet, 1999). Osborough (1999) indicated that the Irish legal history is mainly the history of English law in Ireland. As a result, McCutcheon and Quinn (1998) stress that in Ireland, a full catalogue of common law offences is uncertain. Ireland was viewed by the British colonial power through the lens of the ‘Celtic fringe’ as it was not effectively incorporated into the British empire (Lustick, 1985). The pre-independence legislation entered the Irish legal system during the formative years of the state. It was carried forward to the extent to which it is compatible with the 1937 Constitution (Anon, 2004; McCutcheon & Quinn, 1998). In the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, the common law and statute law (including the constitution in Ireland) are the primary sources of criminal law (O’Mahony, 2007a). In both states, criminal law developed in an unsystematic way by having various sources and origins (McCutcheon & Quinn, 1998). The Irish Constitution 1937 is deeply rooted in continental constitutional law since many of its provisions were transplanted from its European counterparts (namely, the constitutions of Weimar, Czechoslovak, or Poland) (Hogan, 2013). O’Mahony (2007a) is of the view that Ireland should be looked at considering (1) its colonial past, oppression, and struggle for independence, (2) barring of the majority of the population from selfgovernance, (3) the sustained trauma of the 1840s famines, (4) emigration of its citizens to America, Britain, and Australia in the past, and (5) the partition of Ireland in 1922. The Island of Ireland has a long history of political struggle for independence dating back to 1761. The

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Island of Ireland saw four campaigns of political violence in the twentieth century: (1) 1920–1922; (2) 1938–1945; (3) 1956–1962 and (4) 1970–1998 (Hogan & Walker, 1989).

Law in Twentieth-Century Ireland Ireland was Britain’s oldest colony and gained its independence (alongside Egypt) in 1922 during the British ‘crisis of empire’ (Pugh, 1997: 253) when the United Kingdom recognised the existence of the Irish Free State (Irish: Saorstát Éireann) covering the island of Ireland without the six Northern counties. In 1921, Michael Collins, as part of his leadership during the War of Independence, presented a unified draft of the Irish Constitution to the British government. During the negotiations, the draft was considerably reshaped in line with the 1921 treaty (O’Brien, 2006). Ireland’s sovereignty was limited by the virtue of belonging to the Commonwealth until the enactment of the Ireland Act 1949 by the United Kingdom. That resulted in Ireland becoming a fully independent state. Before that, in 1937, the new constitution (Irish: Bunreacht na hÉireann) was enacted1 and the state changed its name to Ireland (Irish: Éire) (Jackson & Tushnet, 1999). Both Ireland and Great Britain share a history of mutual hostility (because of their subjugate and colonial relationship) and cooperation (for example, as part of the European Union). Due to their historical, social, and legal ties, both states decided not to take the advantage of the Schengen Agreement and Convention offering a common framework for policing, security, and border control to the participating states (Harding & Swart, 1995). From 1973 until 2019 both Irish states and Britain belonged to the European Union (initially known as the European Economic Community) (O’Dowd, 1992). In other words, the former coloniser and the colonised state formed a part of the same international organisation for nearly a half-century. After 1922, Ireland resorted, similarly to Poland, to the historically well-known tactics to deal with its problems, that is, violence in a form 1

The Irish Constitution 1937 includes a claim to Northern Ireland (O’Dowd, 1992).

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that was used by a colonial power (excluding transportation to oversees colonies), i.e., censorship, and military executions, coercion, and repressions. Gerard O’Brien (2006) suggests that a violent atmosphere was present in the years after the civil war. Even though Ireland has not experienced the post-war ‘crime-wave’ comparable to that experienced in Britain post-WWII. The Provisional government relied upon martial law powers including military courts with powers to impose the death penalty, detain and deport, and control guns. Military courts were created in 1927 and 1931. Internment was also utilised as a useful tool (1923–1926) when the Irish Free State detained around 8000 people (Hogan & Walker, 1989; Rogan, 2016).2 In 1925, the Treasonable Offences Act was enacted, however, its provisions were rarely used (Hogan & Walker, 1989). As part of the efforts to regain independence, the Irish officials resorted to British legislation, namely, the Restoration of Order in Ireland Act 1920. Nonetheless, due to the controversial character of the law, it was decided to pass a new piece of legislation. As a result, the Public Safety (Emergency Powers) (No. 2) Act 1923 was enacted to cover a legal void created by the previously applicable martial law. It had an expiration date of February 1924; however, its measures were incorporated temporarily for another year into the Public Safety (Punishment of Offences) Temporary Act 1924, the Public Safety (Powers of Arrest and Detention) Temporary Act 1924, and the Firearms (Temporary Provisions) Act 1924 (Hogan & Walker, 1989). The following year these acts were replaced with a more stable legal substitute in the form of the Public Safety (Emergency Powers) Act 1926,3 the Firearms Act 1925, the Treasonable Offences Act 1925, and the Public Safety (Emergency Powers) Act 1926. Subsequent legislation, the Constitution (Amendment) No. 17 Act 1931 (known as the Public Safety Act 1931) brought in a juryless military court to tackle jury intimidation and extra police measures to help subversive organisations (ibid.).

2 3

Internment was used heavily again during the WWII (Hogan & Walker, 1989; Rogan, 2016). It allowed for a proclamation of a ‘state of national emergency’ (Hogan & Walker, 1989).

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Emergency Legislation In Ireland, a state of emergency existed from 1939 to 1995 (Greene, 2018). In 1939, the Irish government officially proclaimed a first ‘state of emergency’. It remained in place until 1976 when the new Emergency Powers Act 1976 (EPA) was enacted, and a successive state of emergency was imposed. That second state of emergency lasted until February 1995 (Greene, 2018; Mulcahy, 2002). EPA complemented the provisions of the Offences Against the State Act 1939 (OASA) enacted as a culmination of the special measures introduced in maintaining state security and public order (McCutcheon & Quinn, 1998; Mulcahy, 2002). One of the distinctive qualities of that legislation is its general character and that it normalising special powers even when a state of emergency was not formally in place. It consists of five parts and the first four sections of it are permanently in force (Campbell et al., 2021). Following the proclamation of the official state of emergency on 2 September 1939 in the wake of WWII, the Emergency Powers Act 1939 (EPA)4 was ratified and that was done in accordance with the Constitution of Ireland enacted only two years earlier. Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004) considered the emergency legislation within the context of David Garland’s crime complex which is “a new cultural complex that shapes and expresses the contemporary experience of crime” (Garland, 2002: 107). That phenomenon is rather peripheral but has a capacity to become more pronounced in the Irish criminal justice system in accordance with “the modern penal welfarist framework” (Kilcommins & Vaughan, 2004: 68). Changes which introduce the crime complex are being introduced silently and systematically. That is leading the Irish state to obtain more control over its citizens. As a result, the civil liberties landscape in Ireland might be shrinking. It is a product of politicised crime control—sometimes as a result of moral panics. Mulcahy (2002) points out that during the 1970s and 1980s, urban crime (especially in Dublin) began receiving more attention compared 4 Other examples of the emergency legislation enacted by the Oireachtas: the Emergency Imposition of Duties Act, 1932, and the Control of Imports Act, 1934 which had a wide-ranging delegation to control economic matters (Donaldson, 1957).

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with less prevalent rural crime.5 The public attention was directed towards an increase in urban crime which became attributed to the activities of the paramilitaries pursuing finances for their undertakings (i.e., to purchase weapons). For Mulcahy (2002), the direct connection between the increase in crime in Ireland and the Northern conflict is uncertain. Opportunities for crime might have been created by a higher number of weapons available in the Republic of Ireland. Nonetheless, it is difficult to assess the direct level of impact of the Troubles on crime in Ireland. The political instability in Ireland led to the introduction of some legislative changes. The state officials tapped into a popular view at the time amongst the Irish population that Ireland was a state under siege. That led to the introduction of the security legislation (McCutcheon & Quinn, 1998). Mulcahy (2002) is of the view that more than the levels of crime, the Northern conflict influenced the Irish criminal justice system, especially its prisons, policing, and legislation. The introduction of the legislation related to the state of emergency could be seen as a symbolic expression of state power when the state is struggling with its legitimacy undermined by civil violence (Connolly, 2007). Political violence in the North during the 1970s prompted the Irish government to amend the OASA legislation by extending the power of detention even further for the purposes of interrogation (Mulcahy, 2002). Under section 30.3 of the Offences Against the State Act, 1939 “[w]henever a person is arrested under this section, he [sic!] may be removed to and detained in custody in a Gárda Síochána station, a prison, or some other convenient place for a period of twenty-four hours from, the time of his arrest and may, if an officer of the Gárda Síochána not below the rank of Chief Superintendent so directs, be so detained for a further period of twenty-four hours”. Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004: 58) notes that “up to 1979, the Gardai had on occasion utilised the tactic of «holding suspects for questioning» for ordinary offences”. One of the problems that some independent human rights bodies emphasised, in that instance, is the fact that most people who are detained 5

Seán Aylward noted in the foreword to Report by O’Donnell et al. (2005: ii): “[u]ntil the early 1980s - and some would say even later - the criminal justice system in Ireland attracted little attention because the recorded crime rate was so low, the prison population was so small and the human resources of the Department of Justice”.

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for questioning are not charged with an offence as a result. That creates an impression that most people held for questioning are detained for offences not provided in the act itself and under false pretences (Byrne, 2020). Another issue raised is that remaining silent during detention might be treated, in accordance with the act, as evidence supporting belonging to the banned organisation (which is against one’s right not to self-incriminate) (Irish Human Rights and Equality Commission, 2021). The Troubles prompted the enactment of draconian measures in a form of the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act (PTA) in Northern Ireland in 1974. Similarly, to the Offences Against the State Acts, that legislation gained a lasting character in Northern Ireland. Moreover, the PTA provisions were later extended to incorporate acts of terrorism in other parts of the United Kingdom. That same legislation was used by the British authorities to gather more general intelligence not related to terrorism (Mulcahy, 2002). Since Ireland strengthened its existing anti-terrorist legislation, the powers of the Gardai and how they gather information was reinforced (Amnesty International, 1977; Kilcommins & Vaughan, 2004). Amnesty International (1999) and the Law Society of Ireland (2021) drew submissions to the Committee to Review the Offences Against the State Acts and Other Matters. As part of that process, both organisations noted that the Act was introduced as a temporary measure but remains in place as part of the legal order to this date. Scheduled offences, which are set out in that act, involve a crime of subversive nature and are transferred to the Special Criminal Court. The Special Criminal Court is a jury-less court which initially consisted of the military personnel who tried the cases (Mulcahy, 2002). It is worth noting as is the case with Ireland, that “nonjury courts are outside the norm of the common law system” (Byrne, 2020: 3). In other words, one’s right to be tried by jury is curtailed by the provisions of the Act (especially Part V of that act). OASA provides a suspension of ordinary constitutional rights (O’Mahony, 2007a).6 OASA offers the use of special powers in conditions not requiring a state of emergency (ibid.). That means that extraordinary legislation 6

According to O’Mahony (2007a: 82), “[b]etween 1975 and 1985, 14,000 people were arrested under Section 30, but only 500 of these were charged and less than 300 were eventually convicted under the Act”.

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became normalised and retained long-term (Sim & Thomas, 1983). Therefore, that allowed for “special provisions to establish a quasipermanent, alternative and, potentially, more repressive criminal justice system” (O’Mahony, 2007a: 82–83). The general public and people working in the Irish criminal justice system became accustomed to the existence of the Special Criminal Court. Another excessively punitive legal instrument used initially in the Irish Free State was the death penalty.7 Capital punishment was historically a British institution and more so, executions in Ireland were performed by the British hangman (O’Brien, 2006).8 In a practical sense, capital punishment ended on the 20th of April 1954 with the last state execution (a British man, Albert Pierrepoint was the executioner) (Doyle & O’Donnell, 2012; O’Brien, 2006). The death sentence still existed in the statute book, and it was imposed several times during the 1950s and 1960s. Though, none of these people was executed. After 1946, only 1 in 24 was charged with murder and 1 in 6 people sentenced to death were executed by the Irish state. It became apparent that the death sentence became “an empty formula” (O’Brien, 2006: 253) but one that was used to incite fear and impose obedience (see: Militarisation of the Public Sphere). The Criminal Justice Act 1964 maintained a capital punishment for murdering a police or prison officer, a foreign head of state, or a foreign diplomat in Ireland. Capital punishment was totally abolished in Ireland in two stages during the 1990s and in 2001. That happened alongside a widespread consideration of problems faced by individuals admitted to any form of state-run institutions known for their coercive confinement practices. These institutions and capital punishment predated the Irish state and as a result, were tolerated unquestioningly (Doyle & O’Donnell, 2012; O’Brien, 2006).

7 Archbishop Charles McQuaid intervened and persuaded Taoiseach (Irish: Prime Minister) Éamon de Valera not to abandon the idea of capital punishment while drafting the 1937 Constitution (O’Brien, 2006). 8 “As the violence continued into the autumn of 1922, the government as a matter of military necessity brought into being the Army Emergency Powers Resolution. This included a provision which allowed military courts or ‘committees’ to sentence civilians to death” (O’Brien, 2006: 226).

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Emergency Powers and the State of Exception As noted by Paul O’Mahony (1993), the Irish criminal system is inconsistent (for example, how information is gathered), some of its features are even self-contradictory (for example, judges can be both harsh and lenient in their approach to sentencing), and it is fragmented and uncoordinated (various stakeholders are not necessarily the decision-makers). Emergency powers and states of exception were also part of that system (see: The State of Exception and Emergency Legislation).9 It seems that since the twentieth century, emergency powers formed a part of the rule of law used to regulate capitalism. That taps into the relationship between the rule of law and violence (Neocleous, 2006). In Ireland, the first state of emergency was declared on the 2nd of September 1939, it lasted until September 1976. At the same time, a second consecutive state of emergency was announced, and it lasted until February 1976. Hogan and Walker (1989) remind us that when a democratic state is enacting emergency legislation, it should contain effective safeguards concerning as much the general public as individuals. In those cases, norms should be clear and precise. That can be done, for example, but adding the so-called ‘sunset clause’ which is a legal measure established in the legislation indicating a date or moment in time by which specific legal provisions cease to exist if it is not further extended by the legislature. In Ireland, such measures were used in the case of the emergency legislation and the Special Criminal Court, however, these were sustained long term and effectively normalised into the ordinary legislation. The colonial powers were known for governing by means of emergency legislation. The British government did that in various ways in Brunei, Kenya, and Malaysia (Neocleous, 2006). Reasons for which emergency legislation is used relate to military encounters or a portrayed threat of such encounters (ibid.). Both Ireland and Northern Ireland

9 “[I]n international human rights law sources of emergency powers are often called «derogation clauses» as they permit a state to derogate from some of its ordinary obligations under the treaties” (Greene, 2011: 251).

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were established as a result of a bloody civil war.10 The Partition of Ireland had a lasting effect on people and relationships on the isle of Ireland. It is a truism that influenced the religiopolitical identity of both Irish states (O’Dowd, 1992). In Ireland, the unbalanced applicability of otherness which was built on religious and nationalistic attitudes meant that the North counties were considered a part of Ireland and the enemy at the same time. The church and state institutions (and the relationship between these) also influenced the situation.11 The Partition also had an impact on the penal policy on the south and north of the border (Kilcommins et al., 2004). For O’Dowd (1992: 30), the “Partition was a compromise based on coercion and the ability to coerce”. The use of emergency powers was justified in the early days of the Irish Free State and during the Troubles because democracy was fragile, and the existence of the state was threatened (Kilcommins et al., 2004). On a moral level, the Northern Ireland conflict combined with the economic difficulties of that time which the whole island of Ireland faced—up until the 1990s—cannot justify the use of tools of social control. Connolly (2007) stresses that the Irish criminal justice system was impacted by the Northern Troubles. One example is the increased availability of guns in the south which increased armed robberies. Nonetheless, the same author declares that the proclaimed state of emergency was mostly imaginary. The Irish government refrained from criticising the garda which was part of the overall practice at the time leading to extremely limited accountability (ibid.). Both An Gárda Síochána and the office of the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP)12 maintain a high level of discretion in prosecuting. Most of the prosecution in District Court is carried out by the Gardai, whereas DPP can prosecute a case if

10

In the late nineteenth century, the United Kingdom was faced by “the new realities created by nationalism in its two main Britannic manifestations—that is, Celtic separatism and militant imperialism” (Pugh, 1997: 124). 11 The role of religion impacting the notion of nation and religion-national identity is beyond this publication (see: O’Dowd, 1992). 12 It is an independent body which was established in 1975. Another important body is the Criminal Assets Bureau which has a broad power to seize the assets (Hamilton, 2022).

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the evidence is strong enough and if there is a public interest in litigating such a case (Hamilton, 2022). Kilcommins et al. (2004) noted that the normalisation of emergency legislation targeting paramilitaries increased within the criminal justice system and impeded personal liberty safeguards. Examples of that are phrases used in the legislation like a balance of probabilities (in place of reasonable doubt), suspicious activity, and reasonable grounds (ibid.). In the context of Northern Ireland, Hogan and Walker (1989) in down-toearth language explain that phenomenon by saying that what is abnormal one year will become normal the following year by turning into standard and unexceptional. On most occasions, special provisions which are implemented in one region over time are extended onto the entire territory as was the case with the Prevention of Terrorism (Temporary Provisions) Act 1974 (PTA). It was enacted first for Northern Ireland alone and later extended to the rest of the United Kingdom (Neocleous, 2006). That follows the colonial logic of extending the extraordinary legislation from a section of a state to the rest of it with time. In Northern Ireland other emergency legislation was also enacted, i.e., the Criminal Justice (Temporary Provision) Act 1970, and the Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1973. In 1971, colonial emergency techniques were employed, like internment, detention (between 1972 and 1976, detainees were classified as ‘prisoners of war’ and granted ‘special category status’ due to their political motivations), intelligence-gathering activities (stop-and-search, road-block techniques, and large-scale house searches), crowd control, undercover techniques, assassination squads, ‘shoot-to-kill’ approach, new surveillance apparatus (also used by the deep surveillance unit called E4A), covering up the state or security forces illegal activity (by trying to discredit whistle-blowers), supergrass policy (offering immunity from prosecution for testimony), policing people rather than policing crime, and the computerisation of all intelligence data (Hillyard, 1987). In 1972, Direct Rule was applied.13 The so-called Ulsterisation (making police fully responsible for law and

13 That meant that between 1972 and 1998, the British government was directly administering Northern Ireland.

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order) increased police numbers and weaponised them. In Belfast, security forces were approving proposed building plans in terms of their usefulness to control the conflict (i.e., houses were removed from the planning decisions, entrances were restricted to contain the population, and pavement was reinforced to handle the weight of armoured vehicles). The experience of militarisation of police in Northern Ireland was utilised against the strikes of British miners in the 1980s (ibid.). In Ireland, certain sections of the Offences Against the State Acts need to be renewed every year by the Irish Parliament (The Oireachtas)14 (Byrne, 2020) in a form of the statutory orders known as Emergency Powers Orders (EPO). Some authors believe that the continuance of the Special Criminal Court in Ireland poses a threat to the constitutional right to a fair trial (see: Byrne, 2020; Kilcommins & Vaughan, 2004; Mulcahy, 2002). It is because that court breaches the right to a jury trial (the right which is secured by the Irish Constitution). It also allows for a weaker standard of evidence needed to convict a person for more serious offences (i.e., by allowing to draw conclusions or inferences from indications of facts; or limiting the defendants’ access to evidence) (Byrne, 2020). The Irish Constitution 1937 and especially its Article 28.3.3°, according to Greene (2018), allows for a possibility of a suspension of basic fundamental rights15 and a review of the separation of powers (where a government might want to ascertain more power than any other branch in the state, for example, by precluding judicial review of government’s decisions—inclusive of instating the state of emergency). Donaldson (1957) comments that this article, which deals with war or armed rebellion, prohibits any legal challenge. Donaldson (1957: 186) accentuates that “[l]ike the Defence Regulations, the Emergency Powers were continued after the ending of the emergency, and in 1952 a great deal of the economic regulation of the life of the country took place by means of instruments made under orders continued in this fashion”. The delegated legislation, known as orders, 14

“The 1998 Act provides that sections 2 to 4, 6 to 12, 14 and 17 must be renewed by the Oireachtas” (Byrne, 2020: 2). 15 Greene (2018) comments that the death penalty cannot be introduced in Ireland even during a state of emergency as a result of the Twenty-First Amendment of the Constitution Act 2001.

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can be issued by the government, individual ministers, concurrently with another minister, or by a separate body (the Labour court) when it is conferred by the parent statute passed by the Oireachtas (ibid.). However, in both Belfast and Dublin the most widely used provision for the exercise of parliamentary control is that of the «negative resolution,» by which members of the legislature are given the opportunity of annulling the statutory instrument, but without prejudice to anything already done under the instrument at the time of the annulment. (Donaldson, 1957: 188)

In that way, regulations which should be established by primary legislation by the parliament in accordance with the powers to legislate (to designate the offences to which the act applies) are handed to the executive (Hederman et al., 2002; Kelly et al., 2007).

The Special Criminal Court The Special Criminal Court (SCC) was established initially to try members of paramilitaries. Particularly, it was to deal with people who would be part of organisations with a military discipline and order operating outside of and against the formal state structure. Interestingly, the first time the SCC was established (on the 24th of August 1939), the panel of judges consisted only of army officers. That practice was later discontinued. The SCC sat until 1946 after which it ceased to operate. The Special Criminal Court 1 was re-established in 1972. In 2004, the Irish government planned to establish, by order, Court 2 which began to operate in 2016. As a result, since 2016, two Special Criminal Courts have been in operation (Irish Human Rights and Equality Commission, 2021). The Law Society of Ireland (2021) noted that an increasing number of referrals to the Special Criminal Court relates to organised crime cases (i.e. money laundering). It can also deal with other matters and other threats to the state and the Supreme Court confirmed that on many occasions (McDermott, 2007).

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The Military Court The Emergency Powers (No. 41) Order, 1940 which was issued in accordance with the OASA, provided a legal basis for the establishment of the Military Court. The operations of these resembled the military courts established by the Soviets in PPR.16 The court, consisting of three commissioned officers of the Defence Forces, was to determine its own procedures; the procedure required a majority vote. Military personnel were, for a while, deciding cases in jury-less courts which in Ireland is contra legem. If the military court “found a person guilty of an offence specified in the schedule to the Order, it was required to sentence them to ‘suffer death by shooting’; this was the sole available sanction” (Doyle & O’Donnell, 2012: 24). A formal appeal was not available; however, the government reviewed these judgments on a case-to-case basis and was able to offer clemency resulting in a sentence being commuted (ibid.). Doyle and O’Donnell (2012: 13) note that “[a]ppeals were permitted from the Special Criminal Court but no such right existed for those convicted by the Military Court”. One of the peculiarities of this court was the suspension of the rules of evidence. This situation resembles the Soviet solution employed in the post-WWII Polish territories. In that case, a small number of military professionals were employed to deliver a judgment in the manner that was envisaged by the state’s officials who had a chance to influence the military personnel. Similarly, military infrastructure was used like the military court and the military camp as part of the process of administering justice. The Special Military Court and the Special Criminal Court played an important part in internment (military custody). Internment was an instrument which was used in both Irish jurisdictions. In Ireland, the state officials interned individuals who were inconvenient for the state under pretences of the state of emergency. From the beginning of WWII 16

Another similar example is provided by Badaliˇc (2019) who discussed military courts in Pakistan. These were developed within the executive branch and breaking the tripartite separation of power. The independence of these military judges was also questionable since they had no security of tenure and lacked legal training. As a result, a known pattern of the malleability of legal military courts which could easily imposed death penalty was reused. Overall, that was leading to a lack of a fair trial for the accused. The accused had no right to public hearing, representation, written judgment, and judicial review by a civil court.

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until the late 1950s, internment without trial was used heavily.17 In the early 1940s, each year around 200 people were sentenced to prison or penal servitude by one of these courts (Kilcommins et al., 2004).

The Duality of the Irish Criminal Law Currently, two different procedures, within the same criminal justice system, can be used for two individuals accused of committing the same crime. As a result, these two individuals will be tried by two different systems (Byrne, 2020). It is due to the convenience of the provisions of the Offences Against the State Act 1939 (OASA). This legislation is effectively a parallel form of the Irish criminal justice system. The arbitrariness of the applicability of that act is also noted by Kelly et al. (2007). These authors noted that a person holding a licence for a sporting gun who omits to renew it might be held and interrogated for up to forty-eight hours; whereas the same might not be applicable to a person suspected of murder. As part of that procedure, hearsay evidence is permitted. It also allows the confiscation of property by the authorities. The onus rests on the accused to produce evidence corroborating that the resources used to purchase this property come from a legitimate source and can be justified. In itself, OASA “lowers the threshold of proof to the balance of probabilities” (Kilcommins & Vaughan, 2004: 65). Overall, various human rights bodies raised concerns around the level of compliance by the state in maintaining equality before the law and the standards of non-discrimination (Irish Human Rights and Equality Commission, 2021). O’Mahony (2007a) highlights another politically controlled perversion in the Irish criminal justice system in a form of pardon to the President which is extended to the Minister of Justice. Until 1994, 6000 people petitioned the minister every year for a pardon and most of them were successful in receiving their fines or sentences of imprisonment commuted. Such an alternative, widespread, and secret form of justice 17

Several military or prison facilities were used, namely, Curragh military camp or Portlaoise prison. Interned individuals were not accounted for in the official prison statistics (Kilcommins et al., 2004).

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was questionable and possibly open to mistakes, especially considering that the minister seemed to be unaccountable, and no details would be shared publicly as to the number of fines reduced (ibid.).

Normalising Emergency Laws One of the characteristics of established democracies with a more mature criminal justice system is its stability. In Ireland, the parliament needs to ‘re-establish’ the Special Criminal Court every year and confirm its nature. In that way, a more consistent and predictable criminal justice system is required. Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004: 79) point out that “Ireland has a long history of relying on extraordinary powers to combat the threat posed by paramilitarism on the island”. Similarly, in Northern Ireland, the Civil Authorities (Special Powers) Act (Northern Ireland) 1922–1943 known as the Special Powers Act was initially enacted in 1922. It was renewed every year until 1928 when it was prolonged for five consecutive years. It was made permanent in 1928 (Hogan & Walker, 1989; Neocleous, 2006). That was a part of the process of normalisation of the extraordinary legislation. The Irish citizens became accustomed to these provisions over time. In Ireland, the legal provisions which were fuelled by moral panics around terrorism are currently used as a legal mechanism against organised crime. It is possible that due to the change in the political optics, the government might want to decide in the future to substitute it for or extend that list of unlawful actions to include other ‘ordinary’ crimes. One of the rationales to enact a draconian law like the OASA was its perceived efficacy which should have acted as a deterrent to potential subversives (Doyle & O’Donnell, 2012). The normalisation of that state of emergency, according to Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004), occurred thanks to the criminology of the ‘extraordinary’. It consists of several measures employed to tackle paramilitaries, but which were used to deal with ordinary crime (inclusive of organised crime). One of the characteristics of such an approach is its repressive form when the state allows the police force to use such

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tactics. This model of policing extends extraordinary measures to ordinary crime (Sim & Thomas, 1983). The normalisation also leads to the bureaucratisation of emergency legislation. That also involves the professionalisation of the response to it and judges becoming case-hardened (Hillyard, 1987). As part of that normalisation, legal arbitrariness is becoming a permanent feature of the criminal justice system and the state is using law as “an instrument of the state’s security rather than justice” (McCory, 1986 cited in Hillyard, 1987: 307). Moral panics created by the events in Northern Ireland allowed for the extraordinary legal response where civil rights were sacrificed and further limited. That occurred because the emergency legislation which should have been applied in exceptional circumstances started to be used in ordinary situations and such an option became immediately attractive to the state and its authorities. Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004) note that such a state of affairs when various extraordinary legal means were introduced and normalised within the criminal justice system was achieved in small steps. Interestingly enough, similar legal arrangements in a form of emergency legislation were assimilated by both Ireland and Northern Ireland (Hogan & Walker, 1989). The extraordinary legal response to paramilitaries during the conflict in Northern Ireland became useful in relation to ordinary circumstances. In other words, it was relatively easy to normalise these legal responses in a form of anti-paramilitary legislation and apply these to day-to-day situations. Northern Ireland from the outset was operating in a state of exception where extraordinary powers were used (Hillyard, 1987). Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004: 58) call it “the increasing normalisation of extraordinary paramilitary legislation”. Whereas Mulcahy (2002: 278) calls it “a paramilitarised mode of policing” which emerged in colonial Ireland. That was done by justifying it as a proportioned response to that emergency situation. In that way, a balance was removed between equitable legal due process and public safety. In instances like that, we are warned by Donaldson (1957) that the constitution can be overridden by emergency legislation. When that happens it leads to a further reduction of civil liberties which are protected, in principle, by the constitution.

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The Catholic Church in Ireland and Poland The Catholic Church can be characterised differently in Ireland and Poland in terms of its presence in and cooperation with the governments. In Poland, the church was representing the anti-state opposition (1943–1989) and the state officials displayed anti-clericalism. Whereas in Ireland (post-1922), the church represented a part of the system of the state’s control apparatus and had direct input into how that apparatus was used. The Irish Catholic Church gained significance and the Catholic faith gained primacy in Ireland after centuries of oppression. Before the 1850s, the clergy in Ireland could portray themselves, considering the church teaching, as martyrs. The Polish Catholic Church did that during the communist times. Though in both Ireland and Poland, an expansion of Catholicism led to an amalgamation of religious and nationalistic ideals (Fahey, 1992). Bacik (2004) notes that in Ireland Catholicism was supporting nationhood and patriotic identity. The same can be said about the role of Catholicism in Communist Poland, especially when combined with some level of defiance. The similarity of the role of the Catholic Church would be in its ethos and the way it resonates with non-privileged people. It is a church (and religion as a result) of the poor which meant that in both countries in the post-conflict circumstances the mentioned Catholic Church was able to find its followers (Zieli´nski, 2003).

The Catholic Church in Ireland The Catholic Church grew in significance in Ireland, especially after 1850. That created a complex ‘national Catholicism’ which remained in place well into the second half of the twentieth century (Fahey, 1992).18 In the twentieth century, the Catholic Church had a privileged position in the power structure of Ireland resulting from its special position

18 This symbiotic relationship of throne and altar resembles the current Polish situation where the Law and Justice (Prawo i Sprawiedliwo´sc´) party is cooperating closely with the Catholic Church.

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drafted into the Irish Constitution19 (Bacik, 2004). More broadly, the church gained power by substituting the state in delivering socially valuable services, namely, education (by running a majority of primary and secondary schools), health (hospitals or nursing homes), and welfare (offering services to the poor via the St. Vincent de Paul Society). In that way, the church-based voluntary sector provided a supplementary welfare system and acted as a ‘shadow welfare state’ (ibid.: 32) which was welcomed by the Irish state. One of the reasons the Catholic Church should be considered in the context of the Irish application of the militarisation of behaviours was its role in shaping and maintaining the political system in Ireland. The Catholic Church in Ireland had massive control over the population and the political sphere. Due to its lasting, deep, and profound influence, it had an enormous impact on social compliance and acceptance of both religious and state laws. The combination of state legislation (hard law) and the powers of the Catholic Church (soft law) created favourable conditions to enforce conformity to the social rules. The concordat that, in principle, governs the relationship between the state and church was providing on paper separation of the two with a significant exception of education. That allowed the church to directly control the Irish educational system (Bacik, 2004; Fahey, 1992). The Catholic Church became recognised as a social service provider as part of the Charitable Bequest Act 1844 granting powers over schools,20 hospitals and other charitable institutions (Bacik, 2004). Since the denominational influence was allowed by the state, the clergy could influence this essential element of social life in the absence of civil organisations. The knock-on effect was that the church forced teachers—through its control of most of the schools—to gain their professional training in church-run colleges. Both the colleges and schools gradually started to receive some form of modest state funding. That combined meant that the church had a massive influence on the mass education system in Ireland and could

19

In light of the equality of all possible denominations during the interwar period, the Polish Catholic Church had a ‘prime position’ amongst all religions as declared by the Polish Constitutions of 1921 and 1935 (Zieli´nski, 2003: 17). 20 The single sex schools have a strong tradition in Ireland (Hillyard, 1987).

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maintain its control long-term over the Irish population and maintain popular support. Effectively, the same strategy to maintain control over the educational system allowed for the permeation of public offices and administration after 1922 because most individuals had no other option than to attend catholic-run schools. Fahey (1992) notes that an alliance was created between the state and church as a result. Even before 1922, the political cooperation between nationalist political movements and the church was very strong in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Similarly, in the second half of the nineteenth century and most of the twentieth century, the church gained influence on several professions which were within the scope of its services, namely, teachers, nurses, and social workers (ibid.). That resulted in teacher training being predominantly church-run (Bacik, 2004). At the same time, the church implemented and routinised the discipline and tools of modern bureaucratic organisations (Fahey, 1992). Churches played an important role in disciplining people since they regulated the social and moral order (Spierenburg, 2004). Another crucial factor is the discipline within the church enforced due to its moral principles, hierarchical structure, military-like obedience, and bureaucratic mechanisms. All these combined helped in enforcing obedience from within and outside of the church structure. It has to be noted here that the church’s discipline and structure resemble that of the army. As a result, it is easier to control the church’s structure and it responded well to the processes of the militarisation of behaviours. The Catholic Church (with its clerical influence) together with the Irish state were two forces which shaped the educational system (Inglis, 2005). Teachers and the schooling system were instrumental in recreating and reproducing the specific system of belief and behaviour. The Catholic Church wanted Ireland to remain free from foreign influences. It was unachievable since the state heavily relied on broadcasting and news content from Britain (Kelly, 1992). At the same time, from its early days, English was the working language of the church. Consequently, the church was accused of diminishing the role of the Irish language and substitution of the Gaelic traditions in Ireland. That was aligned with the basic aims of the former colonisers (Fahey, 1992).

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The State and Church Ireland, as a state, was “founded on Catholic social principles” (Clancy et al., 1992: 7). Amongst other matters, its main principles included a rural way of life and strong family components. The historical association between family life, farming, and Catholicism exists in Ireland (Peillon, 1992). In the 1990s, around 88% of Irish people admitted to any form of religious practice (Barzilai, 2004). The influence of Éamon de Valera on the drafting of the constitution was long-lasting and his attitude towards the Catholic Church is well known. The role of the Catholic Church was recognised in the Irish Constitution of 1937 which acknowledged in articles 44.1.2 and 44.1.3 (subsequently repealed) that the Church was seen through the lens of a special constitutional provision as “the guardian of the Faith professed by the great majority of the citizens” (Hogan, 2013: 227). Moreover, the Church was a force behind the constitutional provision banning divorce in Ireland (now repealed). De Valera, in his capacity as a drafter of the Irish Constitution 1937 and as a former rebel, introduced provisions suspending normal civil rights in case of an armed rebellion (O’Mahony, 2007a). More generally, the legislation of the 1920s and 1930s was enacted by politicians most of whom themselves spent time in prisons pre-1922 under British rule (Kilcommins et al., 2004; Maruna & McEvoy, 2016; Rogan, 2016). Due to a lack of interest in reforming the criminal justice prison for the first 40 years after the Partition, the general public became concerned over the fact that the Irish government was acting similarly to the British colonial power (Kilcommins et al., 2004; Rogan, 2016). O’Sullivan and O’Donnell (2012) are not surprised that post-Partition Ireland relied on the inherited institutional infrastructure. The backlash effect involved a form of repression that is met with increased rioting and forms of terrorism (Dugan, 2014).

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Ireland and the Militarisation of Behaviours In the 1970s and 1980s, the Irish state employment expanded but it did not slow the unemployment rates and emigration. That also coincided with the high levels of economic and social state interventions (O’Dowd, 1992). Considering economic difficulties (i.e., high unemployment rates and financial inequalities), the Irish state was struggling with its legitimacy. The conflict in Northern Ireland impeded the state’s ability to maintain steady employment and attract investment. The mid1990s saw a sharp increase in the incarceration rate in Ireland and a willingness to increase prison spaces substantially (Rogan, 2016). The same state needed to employ mechanisms which will help protect its long-term legitimacy and the state’s officials to safeguard its influence. The toolbox of the militarisation of behaviours offers an array of means which can assist states and other bodies in sustaining their interests and control. Now, let us look at how some of these elements of the process of the militarisation of behaviours were employed in Ireland. Peillon (1992) comments that there is a disconnect between the Irish political scene and Irish society. As a result, he suggests, there are no institutional means allowing the state and its officials to control society, and the opposite, that no major social force exists to influence the state. Narratives like that are enormously powerful because the state (1) can defend itself as the one limiting its interventions into the social sphere of life, and at the same time, and (2) it can justify the use of instruments from the social control toolbox of the militarisation of behaviours as an attempt to bridge that void. It also disempowers people to make any attempts to influence the political sphere since there is no point if, in the end, such an action will have no impact. Largely, such narratives might form a basis for an introduction of tools of social control in that state.

Social Compliance, Dehumanisation, and Othering Until recently, Ireland was a homogeneous country (even if the small minority of protestants is taken into account) (Peillon, 1992). Emigration caused by social or economic circumstances could have been a factor

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in enforcing social compliance. A person could have no other option than to emigrate if they would not fit into the proscribed lifestyle (social factor) or were disobedient (economic factor) and could not avail of some of the economic opportunities available to those who were docile. A certain level of compliance and cooperation is needed for the smooth running of the state and for citizens to be able to benefit from an organised form of collaboration which is facilitated by the state and its officials. Nonetheless, it is a balancing act since too much interference might impede citizens’ ability to exercise their rights. As a result, the benefits might not be seen by them in such a situation due to an elevated level of intervention of the state in their lives. Since the foundation of the Republic of Ireland, “[t]he mythical and immediate association of the state and society was facilitated by the homogenous character of Irish society” (Peillon, 1992: 16). In a society like that with a certain level of uniformity, it is easier to use a threat of othering, someone, as an effective instrument to force people to conform to the social rules. In other words, othering as a process of social control has the potential to be an effective tool to ascertain some level of social compliance (see: Promotion of Social Compliance through Social Homogeneity). Othering is functionally connected with the process of dehumanisation. One of the most affected segments of the Irish society by dehumanisation were marginalised populations which started to struggle more in time. For example, this was the case with the Travellers (Mincéir)21 community. Their declining social function in Ireland as craftspeople (for example, specialising in metal crafts and building horse carts) and service providers (as seasonal farm workers) can be linked to social changes and globalisation. These processes made it harder for them and their products to compete with exported goods (which often were much cheaper and disposable). Once offering vital services to local communities, Travellers found themselves therefore in a socially precarious position. One more factor which contributed to this situation was the systemic discrimination (especially in primary schools) of members 21

In 2017, Irish Travellers became formally recognised as a distinct ethnic group within the Irish State (Department of the Taoiseach, 2017).

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of the Mincéir community which effectively prohibited Travellers from being offered the same educational experience as the rest of the Irish society. Such an approach is a clear example of othering.22

State, Authority, and Conflict The state can be described “as a structure of authority, [which] aims at ensuring compliance with its commands” (Peillon, 1992: 17). For Peillon, in the Irish context, the connection between state and society rests on several elements: (1) the structure of the local government, (2) the networks of clientele (clientelism), (3) party competition (the party system), (4) elite interpenetration (replacement), and (5) the actions of pressure groups (as the most important one). According to Peillon (1992), Ireland had one of the most advanced centralised and rationalised bureaucratic structures in nineteenth Century Europe. That was, then, inherited by the Irish Free State after gaining its independence in 1921. Whereas that was not the case during the twentieth century (Byrne et al., 2016). Until and during the 1990s, a sizeable portion of the state activity was performed by the semi-state bodies which operated with a certain level of autonomy and flexibility. Also, in 1987, an administrative book consisted of over eight hundred organisations representing various interest groups, for example, trade unions or business groups (ibid.). O’Dowd (1992) points out that the persistence of the Irish conflict and unresolved issues around borders on the Isle of Ireland is a reminder of how problematic it was for Ireland to maintain strong international relations. It can be assumed that the Irish state was somewhat international isolated due to its internal situation. As a result, when a state isolates itself or is being placed in that space, the same state has a bigger chance of creating greater citizen dependency since there is less international scrutiny. Some level of coercion rested on the state’s legitimacy and rules. Coercion to be effective needs to also employ the administrative apparatus (see: Bureaucracy and the Bureaucratic Structure). In Ireland, the army, 22

I am only signposting this matter here. It deserves a book in its own right.

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the police, and the civil service benefited the most from national legitimacy when presented themselves as distant from politics and close to national interests (O’Dowd, 1992). Torture and brutality were, in principle, prohibited in Ireland (O’Mahony, 2007b). Nonetheless, some interrogation techniques used by the Irish police force resemble techniques like these. The 1970s and 1980s saw scandals around the alleged structured mistreatment of suspects by the Gardai with purported support from the government (Mulcahy, 2002). Some of the allegations relate to coercive interrogation techniques used to secure confessions by the so-called ‘Heavy Gang’ (Connolly, 2007; Conway, 2008; O’Mahony, 2007b). That group consisted of several members of An Gárda Síochána (the Irish police force). It became disreputable due to their indefensible interrogation practices, i.e., heavy arm tactics to extract information. Similarly, many faults and dangers in garda interrogation practices were observed in infamous cases like the Lynch case, the Sallins Train Robbery, and—probably the most famous—the Kerry Babies case (O’Mahony, 2007b). Then and there, people were making confessions of guilt due to the heavy arms interrogation tactics. Paul O’Mahony (2007b) notes that particularly persuasive psychological methods of interrogation hinge on the disorientation of the person’s sense of self and the world around them. It ties the targeted person in the present and disconnects from society and social reality. The fallibility and malleability of memory are also exploited to increase the chances of false confession. That coupled with increased self-doubt and uncertainty undermines the target’s perception and their belief in it. It is a process which O’Mahony compares to Korean brainwashing which involved the implantation of new memories replacing the actual ones which is known as the false memory syndrome. These dehumanising tactics created situations of overwhelming control over people placed in them. These negligent systemic and institutionalised behaviours were allegedly facilitated by the state and were a part of a broader system of social control.

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Censorship Since gaining independence, Ireland maintained tools of social control. One of these relates to control over media and information in a form of censorship. It was an all-encompassing tool of media suppression and creation used to remove, change, or create narratives useful for the state and its officials. The handle of censorship existed over publications and film, the most popular means of information outlets and media entertainment at the time. Newspapers, broadcasting services namely, radio (established in 1926) and television (established in 1960), and state censorship were responsible for the introduction and sustainment of the Irish national identity, culture, and language (Kelly, 1992). Commercial radio stations were legalised in 1988 when the Independent Radio and Television Commission was established. The broadcasters had relative autonomy in relation to the content and production with a notable exemption of the conflict in Northern Ireland. Whereas film censorship was characterised by puritanism and was applied meticulously (ibid.). While commenting on the involvement of the Irish state in the early 1990s in the social sphere of Irish life, Peillon (1992) observed that the state had a significant influence over the broadcasting services which were effectively monopolised by it and treated as a public service. Along the same lines, Cynthia L. Irvin (1999) accentuates that in the 1980s the Irish government relied on intimidation to suppress political voices. The activity of state censorship was very pronounced. For that reason, the coverage of the Troubles in the Irish media was curtailed. There was a noticeable lack of interviews with members of any paramilitary organisations and other individuals promoting violent political means (Kelly, 1986). Politics can be as lethal but also as effective as military actions (Irvin, 1999)23 and states officials might be ready to censor any armed and civil political actors. The insurgent social movement actors are a threat to the

23

Irvin (1999) brings up the Colombian example where the M-19 insurrectionaries exchanged their guns (the bullet) for parliamentary seats (the ballot box).

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state since they are breaking the state’s monopoly on violence and coercion. The state’s security forces are losing their domination and are partly delegitimised. Violence and coercion are important symbols upholding the state’s authority and legitimacy which can be undermined by guerrilla warfare and mass insurgencies (ibid.). The existence of censorship in Ireland was explained by a need to maintain ‘state security’ and—within the framework of moral paternalism—‘public morality’ (Bacik, 2004: 161). The Irish state justified censorship as means to protect its citizens from crime and disorder; to maintain its territorial integrity; to sustain public safety, and for reasons of national security. The state and church had seen the media as a powerful outlet which can be used for their purposes. In consequence, the media must protect the public from any undesirable influences (Kelly, 1992). The Irish censorship was built around paternalistic ideals including matters of sexuality and reproduction supported by the conservative forces within the Catholic Church (Inglis, 2005; Kelly, 1992). Another key explanation was to promote the strengthening of the nation-state (Kelly, 1992). The Censorship of Publications Board was enacted by the Censorship of Publications Acts 1929. The board could examine publications and censor them. Anyone can submit a complaint to that board. In case when the prohibition order was issued, it could have been appealed by the author, editor, publisher of that publication, or five members of the Oireachtas (submitting a joint appeal) to the Censorship of Publications Appeal Board which was established under the Censorship of Publications Act 1946 (Anon, 2004). The head censor held the official title of Film Censor and was appointed by the Minister for Justice (Rockett, 2004). The board was predated by the Committee on Evil Literature which was established in 1926 for several months to investigate if the current legislation was sufficient to deal with the banning of indecent or obscene books. It consisted of three laymen and two clergymen (one representing the Catholic Church and the other Church of Ireland). In its report, the Committee noted that the back-then legislation was insufficient for the above purpose (Quinlan, 1995). Within that legislative framework, movies could be banned if deemed indecent, obscene, or subversive (Osborough, 2013). Around 2500 films were banned and four

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times as many were cut (Rockett, 2004). The cooperation between the church and the state in relation to censorship was obvious. For at least half a century since the legislation was enacted, “many key cinematic representations were systematically suppressed in Ireland during cinema’s most productive periods” (ibid.: 13). Rockett (2004) notes that the Censorship of Films Act 1923 reflected the political insecurities of Irish nationalism and conservatism. Censorship challenged the Irish identity considering the Irish Partition, and it stood in opposition to Great Britain. In the Irish context, censorship was viewed as a mechanism limiting anti-colonial propaganda originating in the United Kingdom, however, most of the shown content was produced there (ibid.). An indirect version of censoring existed outside of the Censorship of Publications Board with the state officials intervening with Irish broadcasting bodies to sack individuals who attacked or smeared the government; or forbid the RTE crews from documenting specific events (like the war in Vietnam, or the involvement of Irish Catholic missionaries in the Nigerian conflict). Similarly, Radio Éireann would only broadcast news after receiving clearance from the head of the Government Information Service along the lines of scripts prepared for specific discussions (ibid.). During WWII, Ireland employed wartime film censorship. As a result, the “Military Censor was under the direct control of the Minister for the Co-Ordination of Defensive Measures, wartime film censorship still remained the responsibility of the Department of Justice” (Rockett, 2004: 336). In the 1960s, the Irish government openly regarded Radio Telefís Éireann (RTE) as a dependent body operating under governmental supervision. According to that view, RTE was to sustain public respect for the Irish government. The justification offered related to the fact that it operated owing to public funds and within the constraints of Irish law (ibid.). The government was able to issue a directive under Section 31 of the Broadcasting Authority Act 196024 to force the media to refrain from broadcasting any matter. Considering these legal 24

On 28 September 1971, the first directive under Section 31 of the Broadcasting Authority Act 1960 was issued by the government and it was renewed annually thereafter until 1994 (Rockett, 2004). According to the Section 31 of the Broadcasting Authority Act, 1960 (repealed in 2001):

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and practical intimidations, RTE provided its staff with guidelines on programme-making. It also led the Irish media to avoid any potentially controversial topics and effectively imposed self-censorship (ibid.). The Official Secrets Act 1963 prohibits the disclosure of any official information which might be of confidential nature by holders of public offices and state employees (Bacik, 2004). The secretive culture was challenged by the Freedom of Information Act 1997 which helped in accessing documents and information relevant to the petitioner (who could also request to have these documents corrected). It also facilitated temporarily25 wide access to previously unavailable governmental information. Censorship started to increasingly relax which was facilitated by gradual changes happening in Irish society. Then, discourses relating to sex, desires, and pleasures entered the public sphere (Inglis, 2005). These social changes partly resulted from Ireland subscribing to European legal standards.

Introduction to Social Control in Ireland O’Sullivan and O’Donnell (2012) juxtapose the relatively low recorded crime rates and low prison numbers26 with unusually high numbers of people remanded in custody in non-prison institutional care.27 That is not a sign of a peaceful society with low crime rates, but a society that dealt with any form of deviance by either placing individuals in one of (1) The Minister may direct the Authority in writing to refrain from broadcasting any particular matter or matter of any particular class, and the Authority shall comply with the direction. (2) The Minister may direct the Authority in writing to allocate broadcasting time for any announcements by or on behalf of any Minister of State in connection with the functions of that Minister of State, and the Authority shall comply with the direction. 25 The Freedom of Information (Amendment) Act 2003 limited the scope of the potentially accessible documents (Bacik, 2004). 26 Between the mid-1920s and the early 1970s, the average daily number of prisoners fluctuated between 500 and 700 (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). 27 This inversely proportional relationship is known as Penrose’s Law (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012).

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its total institutions or forcing them to emigrate (ibid.). Expatriation acted as a subsidiary social control measure (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020). The management and confinement of those who deviated from norms were divided between prisons and the non-prison system. 1% of the population (1000 people per 100,000 population) was coercively confined in the non-prison system (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). Using non-prison institutions not belonging formally to the criminal justice system of the state was in accordance with sections 9 to 11 of the Criminal Justice Act 1960 (Kilcommins et al., 2004). Such a state of affairs is called transcarceration which is a process of dispersal of individuals within a system of confinement (including prisons and non-prisons facilities) (see: Kilcommins et al., 2004; Lowman et al., 1987; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). When considering the level of punitiveness of the state one has to also take into account non-prison routes to penalisation. The non-prison facilities were punitive in nature since the conditions (including buildings, diet, clothing, rigour, and punishment) resembled that of a penitentiary (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). O’Donnell and O’Sullivan (2020: 2) describe the buildings as “degrading, stigmatising and punitive places”. Placing people in such conditions resembles the process of successful degradation ceremonies described by Harold Garfinkel (see: Suspension in Time and Space [Chronotopes]). The idea behind these non-prison institutions was to reform or cure, but their regimes were more severe and inflicted more pain than institutions designed to punish people. That coupled with the difficulty of people who were placed in some of these non-prison institutions to reintegrate into society lowered their chances of returning to normal life (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). Kilcommins et al. (2004) note that people committed to nonprison institutions spent longer in them than those sentenced to prison.

Coercive Confinement The diffusion of crime control to non-governmental bodies (Bacik, 2004) allowed for persistent confinement in alternative institutions (Convery & Seymour, 2016). These were: Magdalen Homes (also

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referred to as Magdalen Asylums or Magdalen Penitentiaries), Mother and Baby Homes, Maternity Homes (privately run and considered expensive), Country Homes (former workhouses),28 reformatory schools and industrial schools29 (colloquially known as orphanages which operated separately from these institutions), and district mental hospitals (Luddy, 2010; O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012; Osborough, 2013).30 The above are examples of total institutions (Goffman, 1986) or penal establishments present also outside of Ireland. These include lunatic asylums, union workhouses, industrial schools, juvenile reformatories, and monitorial schools (Ignatieff, 1983 cited in Kilcommins et al., 2004). The reformative powers of these, some believed, were formed around ascetism, routines, hard labour, and religious rigour (ibid.). The social setup allowed for a forcible remand of unmarried mothers in Magdalen laundries and other similar facilities as part of the custodial landscape. In 1922, around 1000 women were confined in Magdalen asylums in Ireland (Kilcommins et al., 2004). Individuals held in these establishments were effectively coercively confined (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2007, 2012). Females were “particularly forced into a position of structured oppression” (Chadwick & Little, 1987: 263). Also, these were the sites witnessing routinised daily degradation and humiliation. Bacik (2004) makes a point that those placed on remand were effectively enslaved since they were unable to leave, forced to work, wageless, exploited, and abused. That level of control was effective due to the socialisation of females into their family roles. Such a socialisation relates to the level of surveillance and regulation that females are subjected to daily (Chadwick & Little, 1987). One of the features of coercive confinement in Ireland is that it was out of public sight (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020). These facilities, 28

Due to the poor conditions prevailing in them, workhouses were rebranded as County Homes (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). 29 These were replaced with children detention schools by the Children Act 2001 (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). 30 O’Donnell and O’Sullivan (2020) noted that the system of coercive control also included a more modern system of direct provision centres which was introduced as a temporary measure in 1999 and as a result are beyond the timeframe of this book.

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in the eyes of the Irish society, produced space covered by secrecy for the mothers to deliver their babies and for the fathers of these babies to avoid scandals (Quinlan, 2016). These facilities functioned as means to protect social norms allowing women to retain the pregnancy in secret from their community. These also allowed to keep females away from society (Luddy, 2010) in conditions of unfettered institutionalisation (Convery & Seymour, 2016). That level of concealment was curated by the public not interested in the conditions of these facilities. The treatment of females placed in them created perfect conditions for exploitation, abuse, and human trafficking. The latter happened, especially in the Mother and Baby Homes, since the representatives of these institutions were in a position to forcibly send babies for adoption either in Ireland or abroad mostly to the USA (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). Females placed in some of these facilities on average had to stay for up to two years after delivering their babies even in cases when those babies were sent for adoption (Luddy, 2010).31 The Proclamation of 1916 declared equal voting rights in Ireland for both females and males. When the Irish Free State was established, it offered females a chance to politically partake in voting over the age of thirty (males over twenty-one could vote) when the Representation of the People Act 1918 was enacted. In 1922, equal voting rights were granted to females (Quinlan, 2016). Nonetheless, for several decades after the enactment of the Irish Free State Constitution in June 1922, female civil rights were gradually eroded (Luddy, 2010). Up until the end of the 1980s, the Irish labour market was gendered (Hilliard, 1992). In 1932, a marriage bar was introduced forcing married women to resign from a Civil Service position held before their marriage (Quinlan, 2016).32 In 1937, divorce became illegal. Initial attempts at censoring were introduced through the Censorship of Publications Act 1929 which forbade the promotion of contraception (Luddy, 2010). At the time, the family was commanded and financially controlled by husbands (Chadwick & Little, 1987). Luddy (2010: 813) rightly states that “unmarried mothers,

31 32

A scheme of payments was created and came as an attached condition to the adoption. The ban was lifted in 1974 (Inglis, 2005).

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while … generally enjoyed the benefits of citizenship as women, had, ironically, in a state that applauded motherhood, no rights as mothers”. Paid work, remaining unmarried, divorce, and contraception were means to retain personal independence and to escape female roles attached to family life (namely, as homestay wives and mothers). Thus, it was paramount for the state and church to have measures to control women by keeping them within the family settings or to be able to employ severe punishment for those disobeying this structure of control. The state together with the Catholic Church, An Gárda Síochána, and family as a social unit created a framework for coercive confinement in Ireland. In Ireland, the female role model was judged by their domesticity, purity, and piety. Politicians played their part by emphasising the idealisation of motherhood as a primary rhetoric (Luddy, 2010). Females were traditionally placed in a private sphere of life. The exclusion from full access to the public sphere is especially related to the exclusion from the labour market, political life, and education (Hilliard, 1992). The superstructure of discipline was introduced to limit females’ access to work and public spaces. That resulted in confinement to home surroundings and effectively ensured an institutionalisation of females (Chadwick & Little, 1987; Quinlan, 2016). A punishment was waiting for those disobeying in the form of remand in custody in one of the facilities, ostracisation, or (forced) emigration (Quinlan, 2016). What followed remains a destructive history of the abuse of power and exploitation.33 The tragic scandals and corruption (Maruna & McEvoy, 2016) paved the way for “a relentless focus on the sadistic nature of various priests, nuns and religious brothers” (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012: xi). Both the state and Catholic Church felt compelled to control behaviour by introducing measures which regimented the births outside of marriage and restored the power structure with family as a centre point (Chadwick & Little, 1987; Luddy, 2010). From 1922 up until the 1960s, Ireland had a high level of familism fuelled by nationalism and Catholicism (Hilliard, 1992). 33

Garland (1996: 463) offers as a hint why that is the case since “[t]he state is not good at acting at a distance, indeed, it is not always effective in implementing policies through its own agencies”.

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Luddy (2010) notes that the increased number of out-of-wedlock births was attributed to a loss of parental control (Whyte, 1971) and authority resulting from the War of Independence and Civil War, which was never restored afterwards. It can be claimed that in an attempt to regain that control the state (placing itself in a position of a father figure) resorted to tools of social control like the militarisation of behaviours. The Irish public started to notice the official criminal statistics in the state around the 1960s and the underlying assumption behind the increases in crime was attributed to a lack of parental control leading to more criminal activity (Kilcommins et al., 2004). The state officials swayed the public that the above growth in the crime figures was associated with parental failures and not the failures of the state or its officials. That narrative allowed for an introduction of tools of social control in lieu of the ordinary parental control measures. Quinlan (2016) sees it through the lenses of a combination of women’s subordination and males’ escape from fatherhood and other (family) responsibilities. That was combined with the oppressive ways in which females and their bodies (and sexuality) were supervised both at home and in public (ibid.). That connects with sexual prudery (Inglis, 2005). Those who disobeyed were subjected to prolonged and intense forms of control and labelled as ‘fallen women’. Up until 1993, there were 32 Magdalen laundries in Ireland (Luddy, 2008 cited in Quinlan, 2016). Female sexuality was equated with deviance. Similarly, pregnancy outside of the bonds of matrimony was seen as scandalous even though 100,000 babies were born outside of marriage between 1920 and 1970 (ibid.). Moreover, “[t]he unmarried mother was perceived as doubly deviant” (Kilcommins et al., 2004: 82). It was since they were upsetting the social order, but also carrying a child that could with their deviant genes pose a threat to preserving social disorder. Offspring of first-time offenders (unfortunate individuals who were redeemable and treated as hopeful cases) were branded as ‘children in danger’, whereas offspring of repeat offenders were treated as ‘dangerous children’ (Kilcommins et al., 2004: 83; Luddy, 2010). That connects with the idea of ‘child saving’ which led to the establishment of reformatory and industrial schools for children to be kept from impoverishment (Convery & Seymour, 2016).

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The state and church targeted gender and sexuality to manage social order which resulted in the gendered experiences of crime and punishment (Inglis, 2005; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012; Quinlan, 2016). The above mechanism of social control had a massive gender element to it since most women were placed in these institutions because of their behaviour which was against the morality of the society heavily influenced by the Catholic Church. That relates to the differentiation between criminalisation and law-breaking explained by Chadwick and Little (1987). Law-breaking happens when current legislation is violated, whereas criminalisation suggests behaviour portrayed as deviant and in response labelling it as criminal behaviour. In this case, females were criminalised based on their supposedly deprived behaviour. O’Sullivan and O’Donnell (2012) note that the system operated preIndependence and was retained as a matter of convenience since it was cost-effective and already existing. Between 1922 and 1932 (during the first Free State government), the security of the state and its economic stability had a priority over any social legislation (Luddy, 2010). The fact the system was maintained long-term means that such a system was convenient and operating in the way the state officials wanted it to work. Since it was working and it was cost-effective for the state, the status quo remained.34 It might be claimed that families were a part of the coercive mechanism in Ireland (see: Promoting Social Compliance). The mechanism consisted of several elements, namely, the state, the church, An Gárda Síochána, and the family. That said, any powerful mechanism of social control requires a level of societal coercion or cooperation to be effective. The same goes for the panopticon-based prisons to be run smoothly; prisons require a level of cooperation from the prisoners coerced into them. Similarly, in the spirit of Didier Bigo’s (2006) ban-opticon (see: Militarisation of the Public Sphere), the society needs to be subdued to display a level of cooperation which will translate into further cooperation or passive acceptance of coercive measures. Reverting to Irish families, they would not be in a position to cooperate with other institutions as part of the coercive confinement apparatus if they were not 34

For a more detailed argument see: O’Sullivan and O’Donnell (2012: 262–265).

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subdued to these measures themselves. The element of voluntary submission of ‘surplus’ bachelors and spinsters by their families to some of the total institutions operating in the Irish state has to be placed in the context of the social and economic conditions of that time. As a result, the Irish state by not intervening and allowing for the poor economic conditions to pervade and at the same time imposing some of the questionable moral standards and social norms onto society left Irish families to be forced to act in that way. Does the question remain if there was an alternative for Irish families not resorting to such options? Families in other European states at around the same time might have faced similar economic difficulties but did not resort to such actions at the scale seen in Ireland. The latter might support that there was a state-supported mechanism to compel or even force families to such actions.

Coercive Confinement, Families, and Economy An extramarital affair had an impact on the family of the female who failed to obey the strict moral code (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020). The unmarried mothers were portrayed as either innocent victims (‘poor girls’), or corrupting agents (potential blackmailers). In both cases, they were bringing shame upon their families and the whole community (Luddy, 2010). There was also an economic factor in play. Both the unmarried mother and their child posed a threat to a system of rural inheritance by decreasing the mother’s chances of marriage and moving out of the family home (Fahey, 1992; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). Illegitimacy influenced the economic decisions to place the expecting mother in one of the facilities so that neither the mother nor the baby would be in a position to make a claim on the land and upset the stem family system (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). The state is responsible for governing the legal rights and laws relating to inheritance. As a result, the state was able to address such an economic problem and laws governing it forced more people than needed into institutions which also, in principle, should be supervised by that state. It is no coincidence that until the 1950s, the Catholic Church supported the anti-statist

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social ideology (O’Dowd, 1992). After that, the Irish government had to change its attitude and intervene due to economic stagnation and a high unemployment rate. One might consider that pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland has not offered sufficient options for everyone interested in taking up a job. We are warned that some institutions functioned as alternatives to the limited options available to family members and as an option to relieve the family budgets and constraints (Brown, 1987 cited in O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2007). For example, the psychiatric hospital operated as “a repository for supernumerary bachelors and spinsters” (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020: 8). Similarly, in some of the pre-1922 reformatories, the majority of young people were placed in them because their families lived in poverty. In 1921, due to the failure of the reformatories in helping to recover from alcoholism, all these sites were closed in Ireland. Alternatively, the above forced potential spinsters or bachelors into religious orders. Having one or more offspring following a religious life meant for the family easing their economic burden and increasing their social status. According to O’Sullivan and O’Donnell, such a situation provided “a personnel resource that was cheap (vow of poverty), flexible and uncritical (vow of obedience), and sexually immature but morally certain (vow of chastity)” (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012: 274). When that happened, one of the main ideas behind the militarisation of behaviours, namely obedience, was somewhat achieved in relation to those placed in religious orders.

The State as a Substitute Parent in Ireland The Irish experience differs somewhat from the Polish one when considering the role of the state as a substitute parent. It is since females were a primary target of that policy resulting in women’s subordination. It was also because feminine roles were very strictly defined and preserved in twentieth-century Irish society. Standardisation of experiences, amongst other matters, can be attributed to the rural character of the Irish society from its outset in 1921; and since historically a sizeable portion of the Irish revenue was

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produced by agriculture (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2007; Peillon, 1992). Also, in a society which is heavily under the control of a religious institution imposing moral standards, any deviation from these norms can be punished. Social ostracism motivated and normalised by such a religious institution can act as one of the forms of such punishment. Hence, at least on the face of it, most people will adhere to these standards to avoid such punishment. That level of control was effective due to the socialisation of females into their family roles. That relates to the level of surveillance and regulation that females are subjected to daily (Chadwick & Little, 1987). As part of the process to become a substitute parent, the state was collaborating through its officials (including An Gárda Síochána) with the institutions of the Catholic Church. One of these institutions was the disreputable Magdalen Laundries. People often rumoured about these institutions and gossip about the role of institutions like that would be communicated via anecdotes and narratives. These would describe what specific individuals did and what happened to them as a result (Jolly & Chang, 2021). Gossip is a powerful mechanism of social control which can influence how people behave (Baumeister et al., 2004; Dunbar, 2004) since it stimulates fear. Fear is an emotion that can be elicited by the institution to maintain order and enforce obedience. The overwhelming power of the Magdalen Asylums comes from the fact the people were afraid to be placed in one of these institutions due to their horrible reputation. Both fear and precariousness strengthen the government’s policies since these are making people insecure and more prone to comply with a level of coercion proposed by that state. The elements of group pressure and often coercion worked in Ireland since the state and the Catholic Church worked together. It was often the case that families were complacent in achieving the goals set by the state and church (see: Militarisation of the Public Sphere). Both the Church and Gardai35 used their moral authority as those who are servants of the people to subdue the Irish citizens. Both had an authoritative and near undisputed position in Irish society (Connolly, 35

Michael Staines (1885–1955), the first Commissioner of An Gárda Síochána stated that “Garda Síochána will succeed, not by force of arms or numbers, but by their moral authority as servants of the people” (cited in Connolly, 2007: 486).

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2007). The church assumed authority over affairs in the state which coincided with a relatively low level of crime rates. Connolly (2007) suggests that the culture of non-accountability of the church officials limited police actions and public scrutiny over the crimes committed against those in the state- or church-run institutions. Priests became like father figures who could easily influence any decision of the head of the family. Due to the social pressure created (thanks to the influence of the Catholic Church at the time), priests held the power to sway most of the members of the Irish society to act in accordance with their will or the will of the Catholic Church. It was widely understood, especially in smaller communities, that the Gardai would respect the local priests to the extent that they would not oppose their decisions and might have even facilitated them.

Conclusions A ‘permanent’ emergency can be seen through the lens of permanent liminality (Szakolczai, 2000, 2017) where an element of reality that should be transient is normalised as immanent and over time becomes a part of social reality. That relates to the permanent chronotopes which describe conditions in which a person is suspended in time and space and unable to move on with their life (see: Suspension in Time and Space [Chronotopes]). An example of these spaces would be places of coercive confinement (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2007) which are non-traditional settings of incarceration outside of the criminal justice system. These would be for example psychiatric hospitals, homes for unmarried mothers (Magdalen Asylums) and other residential institutions for children (industrial and reformatory schools, and mother and baby homes), however, none of these institutions are an Irish invention (O’Donnell & O’Sullivan, 2020). It taps into the way militarisation operates since it uses chronotopes (space–time) to suspend a large section of society (around 1% according to O’Sullivan and O’Donnell [2012]) in space and time. The state and its officials have much greater ease to impose their moral code of conduct and system of behaviours onto people who are trapped in these settings.

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Whereas the rest of the society was stuck in space–time of permanent emergency regulated by legislation that should have been temporary in nature but was practically retained long-term. The conditions created in that way helped facilitate the imposition of restrictive behavioural rules. These rules were devised by the Irish Catholic Church and fully accepted by the Irish state and its officials. That way was convenient for both of these institutions and their representatives since, thanks to that mechanism, it was easier to control large sections of Irish society. For Anthony Keating (2004 cited in O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012), both the state and the church were happy to maintain that system of control as it was aligned with their righteous mission and moral standards worthy of sacrifice and pain of so many individuals. Moreover, the idea of the temporary suspension of rules and laws was also facilitated by the state. As a result of these actions spanning several decades, the political system, the Catholic Church, and An Gárda Síochána came under unprecedented public scrutiny (Connolly, 2007). Irish history can be embodied by accounts of people resorting to violence and the state responding to it; however, such representation would not be full without considering the role of the state in establishing social control measures which were there to subdue the Irish population. The state officials were not alone, they could count on collaboration from the Irish Catholic Church and the state bureaucratic machine (namely, An Gárda Síochána, the broadcasting authorities, and the censorship apparatus). The framework for coercive confinement in Ireland consisted of the state, church, police force, and family. Women’s subordination prevailed in twentieth-century Ireland, and it was sustained by a set of moral and physical sanctions. It is again quite important to highlight that there was a gender dimension to the above matters since most punishments were targeted at the female population. Females were subject to most chastisements as part of the moral and oppressive system of social norms. And women were the ones who endured the most pain associated with it. Females in Ireland were effectively confined to either domestic roles (while obeying the social norms) or one of the institutions (when

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disobeying the social norms). That latter happened when women transgressed by either stepping outside of their socially imposed role or simply by rejecting it (Chadwick & Little, 1987; Inglis, 2005). It is often mentioned that the resources were scarce in Ireland which forced families with a lack of opportunities to place some of their members in one of these institutions. Both the state and church could have made a greater impact on the lives of Irish people by investing more resources into the well-being of the families and by creating more employment opportunities. That is easier said than done. On the 12th of November 1970, the Observation and Recommendations on the Reformatory and Industrial Schools System Report 1970 was published. The pace at which the recommendations were implemented was very slow and uneven, but that date marks an institutional change relating to troubled children (Murray, 2016; O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). When Ireland joined the European Community in 1972 (from 1992 known as the European Union), new regulations which improved female status were enacted because of the implementation of European directives (Hilliard, 1992).36 During the 1980s and 1990s, since secularisation gained prominence, several legislative initiatives were passed, namely, the introduction of maternity leave (1981), the legalisation of contraception (1992), the decriminalisation of homosexuality (1993), and the legalisation of divorces (1995) (Bacik, 2004; Hilliard, 1992). In the 1990s, some poorly drafted and outdated statutes were repealed or replaced by more modern legislation (O’Mahony, 2007a). The majority of people who were coercively confined had a rural background. Thus, the shrinking population of rural Ireland, introduction of free secondary education, improvement in medication,37 increased social acceptance, better social welfare provisions for one-parent families, and the growing economy meant that the numbers of people remaining in coercive confinement and joining the religious congregations decreased as well (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). 36

For example, the Anti-Discrimination (Pay) Act 1974, the Employment Equality Act 1977, the Family Home Protection Act 1976, the Unfair Dismissals Act 1977, The Health (Family Planning) Act 1979, The Maternity Protection of Employees Act 1981, the Social Welfare (No. 2) Act 1985, and the Domicile and Recognition of Foreign Divorces Act 1986 (Hilliard, 1992). 37 The length of stay and necessity to remain in mental hospitals decreased as a result.

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The number of imprisoned females (and males) decreased continually from the 1900s until the 1980s, whereas the level of female recidivism increased (Quinlan, 2016). That coincides with similar international patterns (ibid.). The shrinking female prison population led to the closure of some female prisons and prison wings. The Irish prison system is a relatively small element of the cluster of establishments used for reformation, rejection, and punishment (O’Sullivan & O’Donnell, 2012). The UN Special Rapporteur for Protecting Human Rights while Countering Terrorism, prof. Fionnuala Ní Aoláin noted, “the Island of Ireland, more so than many parts of the world has experienced emergency law, emergency practice and the seepage of the exceptional into the ordinary in ways that has not served the rule of law nor the protection of human rights well” (Ní Aoláin, 2018: n.p.). Similar point is made by Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004: 61) who see that situation as “a significant seepage from the extraordinary to the ordinary criminal justice realm”. For Ní Aoláin (2018) human rights violations are synonymous with states of emergency. Hederman et al. (2002: 14) rightly noted that “[e]mergency legislation may be abused for pragmatic political purposes”. It is a way of shifting the goalposts, the state in order to maintain legal provisions which are beneficial to its officials (i.e., longer detention times available for questioning) tries to extend the emergency. It is done by replacing one folk evil with the other which is at the time more frightening to the public. Mulcahy claims that the Northern conflict “might be used as a scapegoat for broader deficiencies within the [Irish] criminal justice system” (Mulcahy, 2002: 287). The provisions which originally related to paramilitary violence are currently used not in accordance with their initially intended purposes. The question remains if the law should be applied according to the will of its drafters or its usefulness, nonetheless, there are other issues concerning this legislation which were mentioned above. According to article 38.3.1° of the Irish Constitution “[s]pecial courts may be established by law for the trial of offences in cases where it may be determined in accordance with such law that the ordinary courts are inadequate to secure the effective administration of justice, and the preservation of public peace and order” (Constitution of Ireland,

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1945). The phrasing of that provision is fully aligned with the mechanics of moral panics. Since then, it is determined (quite probably by public opinion and political will) what is the level of inadequacy of the current legal systems in relation to the specific social circumstances (after the law was taken into account). In an unlikely scenario of the military junta, the same article can be used to establish courts which will be punishing those opposing that junta. Mulcahy (2002) observed that such a situation may lead to authoritarianism within government and criminal justice. A part of that process is an expansion of the criminal justice system (namely, by introducing more crime-related legislation, increasing the Gardai numbers. and the prison building programme) that happened after the Troubles. What is the impact of the Troubles on the criminal justice system of the Republic of Ireland? Since certain elements of the conflict had, according to Mulcahy (ibid.), a direct impact on Northern Ireland in a form of heavily armed police and non-jury courts which has the potential to spread to other European nations. Somewhat similar situations appear in other countries where elements of militarisation and the militarisation of behaviours are overwhelmingly present. One example of that situation is in France, where people can easily observe the undercover police regularly patrolling or being present in public spaces. Interestingly enough, these police forces are noticeable to the public since they all carry sidearms very visibly. That is supplemented by the observable presence of the uniformed police force carrying military-like weapons (e.g., machine guns). Colonialism was one of the paths through which militarisation entered Ireland. Reiner (2012) notes that Great Britain enforced its more militaristic and coercive model of policing in its colonies. Since gaining independence, Ireland maintained the colonial structure of its police force. As a result, at around 1922, the Irish people were still heavily policed since Ireland had three times as many police officers per capita as Great Britain (Connolly, 2007). Militarisation in Ireland grew on one hand because of the involvement of some civilians in political campaigns and on the other hand as a result

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of the state responding to these in a military manner.38 Nonetheless, the state had already resorted to tools of social control in other instances. Various forms of confinement which were available pre-Partition (1922) were used by the newly formed Irish Free State and retained by Ireland up until the early 1990s. In Ireland, other forms of social control were also employed to make the female population more docile. That connects with the length of sentences which were, to a degree, shorter in prisons than in other non-prison facilities. It is hard to ascertain how much of the military language was introduced only because of the actions of the insurgent social movement actors in Ireland or under the pretences of their actions. And how much of it was a post-colonial residue. For sure, the existence of the paramilitary organisations had a direct impact on the narratives present in the public sphere; and the military language and culture were present in the civil sphere of life. Both Official IRA and Provisional IRA operated with regular army structures (Hogan & Walker, 1989). As a response to these paramilitary groups, the Irish state, following the lead of Northern Ireland, employed a level of securitisation of police. Before that, the elevated level of social control present in the Irish public sphere meant that most of the Gardai members were not required to carry a weapon. The Irish military neutrality might have been a pretence under which the country wanted to remain out of sight of outside institutions ready to scrutinise the system of control employed by the state. The same military neutrality did not protect the Irish citizens from various forms of influence leading to enforced obedience. The same can be ascertained about the Schengen Agreement and Convention. It offers a unified framework for security, policing, and border control. For various political reasons, the Irish political elites decided that Ireland should remain outside of that arrangement. The church and state in Ireland operated in a symbiotic relationship as two liaising organisms. Ergo, the two influenced the Irish educational system and helped in maintaining nationalism by employing social machinery inclusive of social drill and conditioning which form a part of 38

Hogan and Walker (1989) offered a comprehensive account of the history of the legislation on the Isle of Ireland relating to political violence.

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the process of the militarisation of behaviours. The Catholic conservative ethos led to efforts of censors to extend paternalistic treatment over the Irish population (Rockett, 2004). Rockett compares that attitude to that utilised by a coloniser used towards its subjects. Such a disposition also resembles the one employed by the PPR towards the Polish population in the post-war years. While the state could make rural dwellers more obedient with the help of the church, people living in cities were subjected to a different level of policing. Therefore, there was a requirement to create an influential and persuasive enough narrative to build support for a more robust approach to urban dwellers. The public was exposed to information that crime is increasing in cities (also resulting from the activities of the paramilitaries) and a level of moral panic was created around that issue. Obviously more robust policing and exceptional legislative solutions were provided as a resolution to that problem. Many nations (including the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland) came into existence because of military struggles and conflicts. Nonetheless, a military method of governance—which might help in sustaining such a state in its initial stages—should not remain a default option long-term. If such a state is not transitioning out of the military model of governance, the chances are it will try to normalise processes as part of the militarisation of behaviours. The militarisation of behaviours is a useful tool to maintain power due to a concentration of mechanisms of control over the population. Consequently, both Irish states employed tools of social control and the militarisation of behaviours to subdue the people living in these states.

References Amnesty International. (1977). Amnesty International report 1977 . Amnesty International. Amnesty International. (1999). Republic of Ireland: Submission to the Committee to review the Offences Against the State Acts and other matters (No. EUR

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4 Subduing a Nation Through Military Influences (Militarisation and Demilitarisation)

Introduction Building on the earlier elements of this book, the purpose of this chapter is to create a background for a discussion on the process of the militarisation of behaviours. The militarisation of behaviours is a process utilised by the state when its citizens are treated by that state in a manner resembling the way the army relates to its soldiers. In other words, the militarisation of behaviours is employed to subdue a society or a part of it (or a group in the case of organisations). It is done similarly to the military restraining and governing its soldiers. The militarisation of behaviours is a (mass) process of social control where the state exercises its powers over the population. This process consists of parallel forms (tools) of social control and, what is important here, it is responsible for blurring the boundaries between a dichotomous divide between civilian and military life. Regarding the structure of this section, the first part is based on some historical influences of the military and exemplifies some enduring effects of military culture on society and state, which are visible contemporarily. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3_4

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It also demonstrates the significance of states to the formation of military, soldiers, and perceptions of both in civil spheres. The second part reconstructs discourses around concepts of militarism (war-preparation), and (de)militarisation. The third part is devoted to the concepts of moral panics and securitisation. Whereas the final section offers criticism of the above.

General Comments Behaviours and cultural values are historically entrenched. Consequently, some of the historical influences relating to the militarisation of behaviours are linked to the development of contemporary military and states which are somewhat rooted in that process. Here, the term militar y relates to soldiers or armed forces (Bowyer, 2015: 157; Soanes et al., 2006: 476). Some historical processes that originated in early configurations of military generated protoforms of military culture. These processes, then, permeated military culture (especially in the European context) and can be seen in its contemporary forms. Most states support an army for its safety and protection of its people, but also to preserve its internal and foreign interests. The importance of the military is connected to the role wars play in social development. In most contemporary states, the state and military are in a functional relationship. The military, in principle, when needed, protects or expands the boundaries of the state (the importance of war on shaping the statehood). To perform these duties, the army can gather sufficient resources and power to place itself in control of the state (because of the coup d’état ). The fact that the military can potentially seize power and form a government indicates that the military is an influential force in the state. The military creates its own culture to attract people into it (which is even more important in states with conscription as opposed to enlistment). Historically, the underlining assumption was that, if the state loses at war (or it is conquered), its people will be subdued to a foreign power. In that case, as citizens of a conquering state, they would not be able to retain the same social status. That increases the role of the military

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in the context of political leadership and other sources of authority. As such, in the face of a military conflict between two or more states, for that state, it was a matter of survival to combat other states; whereas for its citizens it was a matter of retaining their social and political status, goods, and if that was the case, ownership of land. In other words, the citizens (violently) protected themselves against social relegation, potential long-term violence, and discrimination under a new rule by fighting for their state. Whereas for the state, the war was a political and social tool employed to extend its influence. Thus, the military can influence social spheres through tools of social control like war, military language, and culture. The same mechanisms are employed by the militarisation of behaviours, which is why it is a powerful instrument of social control. The process of the militarisation of behaviours developed in the form of offshoots of other social processes or rhizome (Deleuze & Guattari, 2013). Privileged citizens shaped such a process and aimed it at the remainder of the civilians. Sometimes, it utilises aggressive techniques and structures (army and its soldiers, or the military counterinsurgency agency, like the Red Army’s SMERSH in the 1940s). State agents employ a process like that over time when some of its aspects are tested out and only retained if proven to be useful. Therefore, gradually, that process becomes multi-layered, more sophisticated, and intricate.

Military (Historical Overview) To unpack some of the militarisation of behaviours’ complexity, we must first look at some of its historical roots and influence. Below, I am presenting a discussion on some early forms of the military in the context of European history. In this part, I am aiming at recreating some historical background to the military. That is done to show the impact of early forms of military culture on contemporary armies and public perceptions of the military. Due to the extent of the subject itself and limitations of space, only selected historical foundations and influences are presented below. Here, some of the processes as part of the militarisation of behaviours are traced back to describe their importance and

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long-standing effects. I am doing that to demonstrate its potential impact on social spheres, and to show how vital those are in the context of discussions on the militarisation of behaviours.

Military—General Comments Lawrence (2014) notes that, in Europe, a change in the way war was carried out began during the Napoleonic wars. Napoleon initiated new warfare tactics and strategies. Then, standardisation, mass production, and systematic scientific research were used to bring new norms of mass destruction into battlefields. These processes and practices spread across the globe together with colonial conquest. In most societies, the military is an influential social power. In principle, it is an institution that possesses weaponry which could be utilised on a mass scale to control society(-ies) (Mabee & Vucetic, 2018; Mercadal, 2017). Also, it is an organisation of discipline and control over one’s body, and it is connected to and engrained in the history of military organisations (Howell, 2018). Similarly, the use of military power and force can be associated with attempts to solve political and social problems. Such a militarised approach can establish a militarised society in which social relations are dominated by violence and coercion (Uyangoda, 2005). It is because militarisation benefits those in control and helps them in capturing even more powers within the state, as militarisation occurs when a state manages a specific element of the public sphere in a manner analogous to army operations. However, when militarisation is employed towards the police force and segments of the criminal justice system, it is referred to as securitisation (Buzan et al., 1998; Kraska, 2007). Those are possible options for any social actor to attain power which resides within and outside of the state (Uyangoda, 2005). Nonetheless, power also affects relations between people and their economic and social (including gender) relations. Militarisation and the militarisation of behaviours prioritise military over civil rule, knowledge, and expertise; and favour a non-democratic modi operandi over any

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other form or expression of democratic relationships. When militarisation is employed, it is difficult to notice how social relations were and are permeated by a military agenda. Therefore, it is important to question the role of the military in the public sphere and discuss some examples of its early historical influences.

Historical Legacies of Military Due to the extensive scope of the subject, only some examples of military legacies and influences are present here to note the existence of these connections and the importance of the topic itself. The military exists due to nation-states which create and support it. Interestingly, the rise of nation-states can be attributed to the consolidation of political and military power and economic expansion of Europe in the early modern period (Bean, 1998). It can also be ascribed to the retention of the optimal size of those states in accordance with the administrative, technological, and legislative advancements of the day. The problems of command and control increased with an expansion of the size of a specific entity. An expansion of size multiplies problems associated with the flow and volume of information. That on its own can result in a delay in response between stimulus, decision, and reaction (ibid.). Thus, highly controlled military systems played a vital role in the establishment of the ancient state empires (Karsten, 1998). Warlords became dominant forces in towns built around fertile lands, where walls could be erected to secure central markets and the mercantile activities within those towns. After securing economic activities, a surplus value could be created and utilised for military purposes to strengthen the powers of those warlords, who could extend it within a certain radius from the town (ibid.). Therefore, the military was one of the tools used to secure and expand one’s influence. Many societies came into existence because of the actions of chieftains who were both civil leaders of their respective clans (as village heads), but also military leaders of those same people (Bean, 1998). A duality of that role meant that in times of uncertainty, they were the ones who led their people into battles. The militarisation of behaviours activates

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similar mechanisms. The mentioned duality of leadership is triggered and utilised whenever political leaders need to mobilise specific populous for their political (and as a result military) needs. That is connected to a proportion of military budgets to overall states’ budgets and a proportion of numbers of army personnel and the remainder of a population. Bean (1998) notes that substantial gradual changes in the mentioned proportions might indicate other social changes occurring in society (for example, the militarisation of behaviours). From the eighth until the fourteenth century, the untrained and inadequately armed “peasant levies usually did most of the dying and little of the killing” (Bean, 1998: 205). It was around 1450 when the cannon (a military tool) matured to become a destructive force against castles. That made a massive improvement in the besieging of large centres of people’s activities; and therefore, refined the art of war in favour of the aggressor state (the centralised power over its decentralised representations). Concurrently, military budgets grew exponentially. Bean (1998) notes that military budgets of medieval rules ranged approximately from rare 50% up to 75–80% of the overall budget was being spent for military purposes. In the late fifteenth century, revenues of Western European central governments were increasing, and most of that revenue was spent on wars and war-related expenses. The remainder was consumed by the ever-growing courts and bureaucracy (which enabled collections of additional money to fill the states’ coffers) (ibid.). Modern armies derive from the medieval feudal system. As such over the years, the army developed its own social structure (it can be condensed in the form of the ‘theory of the Army’) (Rose, 1946). The professionalisation of the army brought about change when the military became maintained continuously as opposed to only pre- and war times. The first professional army was organised by Calvinist woollen manufacturers and merchants in sixteenth-century Netherlands. That army consisted mostly of non-Dutch men and was organised against the usual bellum se ipsum alet (war should feed itself ) approach. It was a fully professional and regularly paid (all-year-round) military formation (Karsten, 1998); however, some early signs of the militarisation of behaviours were seen in France in the 1790s with a massive call to arms (which would be imitated elsewhere throughout Europe). Because of the

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scale of that call to arms, most men and many women were subjected to militarisation in their daily lives and could easily buy into that mode of operation of the state. It also gave rise to patriotism amongst recruits. As a result, a specific relationship (or more precisely a symbiosis) was formed between the state, its citizens, and the military. That symbiosis was present in public spheres (including schools and workplaces), and over time, permeated private spheres (for example, with the growth of the numbers of veterans and their organisations) (ibid.). It is especially apparent, during the war period, which lasted until the 1815 Paris Treaty (Davies, 2000). In Europe of that period with time passing and military technology advancing, militarisation entered a new era. It was a time of introduction to the professionalisation of the military. The consequences of that would be seen in the strengthening of the states and their identity around the idea of the state as a commonwealth and the common good of every person within the state’s boundaries. The late nineteenth century marks a change in military roles. In the USA, the military was utilised on many occasions during strikes to guard the property and to restore law and order (Karsten, 1998). That is only a step away from the military acting as interim governments on occupied territories, or later as advisers in countries with unstable political situation (by supplying advice and training). Simultaneously, a new type of relationship was developed between (and within) the frontier communities where an army was stationed at or nearby the borders (ibid.). That military–civilian relationship was symbiotic in nature; and it was encompassing social, economic, and security elements. As the army often became a negative reference group to local communities and its members, resulting in civilians fearing and loathing military personnel (especially those of foreign origins). A similar mechanism of othering (and tapping into fears of otherness) is used by (military) leaders to stimulate desired activities effectively. The military–society relationshipwhich is not new—was often a platform for some to move up the social ladder. In ancient Athens, a person of a lesser status could work their way up the societal ladder through military service, as the status of army persons was interchangeable with that of citizens. So, soldiers were treated as having a higher status than anyone else and were allowed, to an extent, to be part of the political decision-making (Vasillopulos, 1998). Some of the

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historical residues are visible in the form of cherishing soldiers as war heroes by mass culture. The same argument can be extended to an entire state which is employing the militarisation of behaviours. Daugbjerg and Refslund Sørensen (2017) assert that from 1989 onwards, as part of an overall change in internal and external policies, the Danish nation reinvented itself as a somewhat warrior nation due to interests in waging wars. Such a move required shifting of nation’s self-image from the state as a ‘diplomat’ to the state as a ‘warrior’. In the early 2000s, that alteration of the policy was strengthened by a Danish prime minister, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, who subsequently became the Secretary-General of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). This novel approach is still accepted by Danish people (ibid.). The military cannot be adequately discussed without consideration of the police force. As with state solidification, rulers started to invest more into security institutions; among those, the first ones were the armed forces and the judiciary. The early 1900s saw an outmatch of military numbers over the police. Simultaneously, the police force entered a path of professionalisation. That process depreciated a military role in internal security (Easton, 2017). That role alteration of state forces transformed the way we view them today, as the military became responsible for warfare and supporting an international rule of law, with police tasked with upholding public order, service delivery, and a national rule of law. In discussing the solidification of the policemilitary divide, Easton uses an example of the French forces, where the French gendarmerie was initially a police force and a part of the French Army. The same can be said about the UN Peacekeeping force and An Gárda Síochána. Both police and military are uniformed services commissioned by a government and can recourse to the state’s power and authority and use (legal) force (ibid.). Overall, militarisation and demilitarisation are discussed internationally and are considered fundamental and indispensable processes to policing. Regarding the academic discussions on the militarisation of police, Easton found two directions in which the debate is driven. Firstly, consideration is given to the police gaining a military character. Secondly, considering legal (constitutional) requirements, a discussion revolves

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around propositions on how to reverse this process and, as such, it loops around the democratisation and demilitarisation of police forces. The above shows how the military influences the police force as much as other civilian spheres. The relationship between the military and society is a historic and deeply rooted one. When we study that relationship, we can discover multi-layered links between society and the military (Karsten, 1998). Society and the military stay in a symbiotic and reciprocal relationship while feeding off one another. It is not a perfect kinship, but some tensions or differences will always exist between the two. Considering all the above, it is essential to discuss some of those influences.

Military Influence Academics and the public are increasingly recognising the importance of military influences on our daily lives. The below segment discusses some of these influences in the context of military ideology, controllability of the army, its responsibility, public perceptions, the social conditioning of soldiers and citizens, sentiments (military values and morale), and more generally, a permeation of military and civil spheres (through military coups, conscription, and propaganda). Military ideology reflects and replicates factors or social characteristics present within its formation. Whereas the army itself due to the way it is organised, whenever it is projecting any ideological elements onto society or its structure, it is also projecting its structural setup of castes, cults, and authoritarianism typical to the military (Mercadal, 2017). Thus, it is essential to pay attention to some of the social features and their elements. For the author, the military represents certain features which relate to structure (a highly regulated environment), strong hierarchy,1 resilience (associated with its permanent character which is a very potent idea), and a clear system of beliefs (inclusive of military honour). Together a sense of hierarchy, structure, permanence, and honour create a solid perception of the military in society. Weapons, other instruments, 1

Brotz and Wilson (1946: 371) emphasise that “[i]n a society organized in a hierarchy of command, power is sublet”.

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and most importantly, uniforms create an impression of order, structure, and knowledgeability. Those who project that impression can be seen as permanent and stabilising elements of one’s reality. Historically, in the grand scheme of things, armies are built on the idea of controllability of the army itself and its soldiers. Controllability denotes rigidly imposed levels of hierarchy and discipline within the army introduced to subordinate officers and soldiers.2 A recognised chain of command is of importance to create conditions where soldiers can adhere to the aim or orders imposed by a person at the top of that chain. Consequently, the army has ready-to-use answers, procedures, and methods (which in most cases offer a black-and-white overview of social reality) and creates a feeling of stability. That perception is transmitted to a society which is prone to buy into that conveyed message. The army due to a perception created around it; its structure; its social, political, and factual power; and ideological support from the state can leverage all the above to create opportunities and gain more social and political influence. The above is significant as, in principle, the army should be subdued to the state, not the opposite. The social culture of the army is conditioned (and governed) by the state’s current affairs, with enlisted soldiers being the most affected by that situation (Rose, 1946). If they consider a career as a soldier and connect their future with the army, they are in the most precarious of situations. When a conflict ends, they are effectively out of enlistment (employment). When acting upon suspicion of being out of work, enlisted (want-to-be regular) soldiers might lose their willingness to sacrifice themselves together and their overall morale. Those enlisted soldiers not considering a career in the military might share the same feeling. Besides, the ones higher in the army structure might be willing to intervene and prevent insubordination. Rose (1946: 361) refers to these attempts to increase control over the enlisted persons as the ‘customs of the service’. Given a loss of morale, military leaders can feel an institutionalised fear (of a loss of control over their subordinates). That feeling

2

That is not the case with the militarisation of behaviours since it is often very difficult to establish a source of it and the chain of command used to impose it.

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can lead to a firmer response of those leaders to reinstate their supposedly lost domination (in civilian settings political leaders can refer to the militarisation of behaviours). This argument can also be extended to citizens in states which are in either one of the three phases of conflict, the pre-war, war, or post-war stage (even in the final phases of a conflict, the post-war negotiation process is stressful due to uncertainty, a necessity to rebuild a fragile balance, and a need for a reconciliation). Since in-around wartimes create precarious conditions for the state population, these occasions can create settings for a greater reliance on the state’s decisions. Naturally, if the state induces a form of fear or other detrimental emotion associated with a threat of war, its citizens subjected to these emotions are more prone to adhere to the state’s will. That is, linked to moral panics, securitisation, and the militarisation of behaviours. Wilson (1998) argues that there is a disagreement between formal and informal military values. Nonetheless, it is less profound than the conflict between officers’ ethos (and honour) and their lifestyle. Since the above description is matching a civilian situation, it must also be said that senior state officials represent similar attitudes as the military officers discussed above. Considering that, Wilson discusses the importance of peacetimes to the coherence within and the morale of the troops. In his view, the ethos of honour must be maintained as professional soldiers spend more time at peace than at war. Similarly, the military must maintain its good name in society, but it also must be supported by a government in pumping a military ideology into a nation or into the educational system, with the primary purpose to create and retain a sense of nationalism. One of the main aims of nationalism is to create a sustained appreciation for military service so that people will be willing to join or refrain from opposing conscription (whichever is the case). Thus, the state is complicit, to an extent, in propagating elements of militarism in popular culture. Whereas some might argue that militarisation occurs at the doorsteps of a possible takeover of powers by the military, nonetheless in those circumstances, militarisation does not have to occur. In situations of a military coup, the political situation changes, and democracy is eroded; and, as a result, pathological social and civil relations are created (Mercadal, 2017). Consequently, in the case of robust incorporation of

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the militarisation of behaviours, the military is interfering with the state’s political decision-making processes. The danger is that even though the military might not be willing to take full control of the state, the military gains more power anyway than any other state body or entity (or the state itself ). The power balance is removed, and one of the state’s organisations (military) is gaining more real (the growth in the amount of weaponry and military personnel) and political power (an ability to bargain their power into a political influence) than the state itself, to which the army should be subdued to in principle. In those instances, the military is likely to utilise its justice system. Michał Matyasik (2017) echoes M. R. Gibson’s work on the apparent objective of the military justice system, as military regulations and the justice system promote efficiency, morale, and discipline. Consequently, it endorses obedience and maintains confidence in the army and military. It dissuades unlawful behaviour (which is also a part of the militarisation of behaviours), and it resembles the social conditioning of people to behave in a particular manner. The operational effectiveness of the military relies on the interdependence of civil spheres on military spheres, and vice versa (Rech, 2017). Matthew F. Rech signalises that in the USA, the American Army is continually active in the public sphere with a ‘virtual Army experience’, tours air shows. The same army sponsored a video game which became an enormous success. The fact that it is widely available and free of charge helped enormously. The army did not hide its intentions to increase the number of people signing up for military service by having to associate an exciting time spent playing a well-designed game (at no expense to the player) with a portrayed soldier’s life. That game was reshaping a perception of the military service and the army itself. The overall argument can be extended to most contemporary states making similar attempts to instil military culture into the public sphere.

Military Culture Military culture is a component of the military–civil relationship. Military culture relates to a military way of life (Wilson, 1998). It encapsulates all values associated with the military, which prevail at two levels

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(two social loci). Firstly, all military codes, principles, and standards exist in the military itself. Secondly, all military values became accepted by and incorporated into civilian spheres. Wilson prefers military culture over militarism due to its idealistic and polemical connotations which obscure the overview of it and the raison d’état associated with it. The permeation of the military culture into a non-military sphere is seen in the postwar Polish People’s Republic where, for example, sociology classes were sometimes delivered by soldiers-sociologists wearing military uniforms and weapons while teaching. In his early career, Zygmunt Bauman was a soldier-sociologist (Smith, 2017). During martial law (from 13 December 1981 until 22 July 1983), some journalists announced the news on public television wearing army uniforms. Military culture, according to Brian R. Price (2017), designates attitudes, traditions, practices, and norms of behaviour shared and perpetuated by militant groups (and also potentially by military structures). It emanated out of ancient warrior practices which unite and fraternise in time and space military personnel and combatants. William Brim (2014: 31 quoted in Price, 2017: 1098) defines military culture as a sum of “all knowledge, beliefs, morals, customs, habits, and capabilities acquired by service members and their families through membership in military organizations”. The last part is a crucial one, as it highlights the pervasive and ever-presence character of military culture. Wilson (1998) argues that military culture first entered civilian discourse in the nineteenth century. For him, one of the earliest examples of militarisation of civilian spheres were celebrations in Paris during the Carnival from the 1880s onwards (ibid.). In Europe from the feudal era, military culture and values instructed and influenced most of the non-ecclesiastical elites. Whereas historical and contemporary connections between military culture and religion (or religious groups) were especially important, as both can influence and strengthen one another. Both, as well, can influence political circumstances (medieval crusades, and a post-Arab Spring military situation) (Price, 2017). Thus, the dualistic division of military and non-military is to a degree redundant, as it is hard to draw a clear division between military and non-military knowing the long-standing cross-fertilisation between the two. Notably, the above

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cross-influence in the European frame of reference was strengthened by a further extension beyond elites through mass conscription. Similarly, this cultural cross-pollination created a space between the two sections of society where new patterns of authority, social control, and discipline could emerge together with new kinds of faith and belief mainly centred around the idea of a nation-state (ibid.). Then, the state’s authority supports the military authority, and vice versa. All of that happens in the public domain for most to see. Thus, for several years in the Polish People’s Republic, the national television broadcasted annual military music festivals. These were viewed by the population (due to a lack of other alternatives) as one of the highlights of summer times. At that time, only two television programs were available with a limited number of shows and with no programs during the daytime. The same can be asserted in the case of the royal wedding in the UK in 2018, which was supported by an overwhelming military presence. Similar examples can be found in other contemporary states. For Wilson (1998), military music and festivals trigger a feeling of glory and heroism. These feelings interlink with being a proud member of a specific nation (an overarching entity). Heroism is not the only element of military culture. Moreover, contemporary military cultures are in most cases hierarchical, and focused inwards, stressing the importance of the service, mission, and sacrifice to the group (Price, 2017). More broadly, military cultures are built around the idea of a warrior ethos developed over centuries of armed combat (ibid.) which itself would revolve around human features like loyalty, courage, strength, skilfulness, professionalism, and self-sacrifice. Price accentuates the importance and influence of military subcultures (navy, air forces, or special forces) to a group and selfidentity during wartime. Every army needs its culture to create a sense of belonging and cohesion by creating a reference point for soldiers (especially while on a battlefield). Soldiers can hold on to it, and military culture can be feeding their sense of self-importance and keep them convinced of their mission. Thus, soldiers rely on their culture, which is an integral part of the military structure. Thus, a well-developed military culture might facilitate the professionalisation of armies.

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The Rise of Military Professionalism First indications of the professionalisation of the military can be traced back to the Dutch forces where a sense of honour, as a social glue within organisations, was effectively replaced by the terms of one’s contract (and effectively, pay conditions) (Feld, 1998). That resulted in a change in the source of discipline; there was a shift from the inner code to the objective and materialistic standard of regular work for regular pay. A regular wage was, in principle, a source of continuous devotion to one’s duties and loyalty towards the formation (ibid.). The Dutch army was the first social system with orderly unified techniques and a system of control (unified weaponry and uniforms). That system was to replace morale with discipline. What becomes vital was a combination of good organisation, mechanical control, and regular wages. The mass model decreased several military factors into only two: (1) the accessibility and readiness of manpower, and (2) a continuous supply of manufactured weapons. That shift signifies a modernisation of societies and their changing needs. For the first time, the military placed more emphasis on leadership (skills) and social solidarity (ibid.). It is worth signposting that this point is essential to a discussion on leadership in the section on the development of Polish Criminal Law, as military leadership played a vital role in that development during the 1970s and 1980s. The new coherent and well-advised organisation of military, war, and leadership provided heads of states (or their equivalents) with (1) an unquestionable apparatus of coercion, and (2) a well-trained group of military bureaucrats (Feld, 1998). Those bureaucrats were able to overrun every level of society and could efficiently exercise military resources for their purposes. Feld draws attention to an interesting paradox that the Dutch government was the least absolute and the Dutch society was the least militaristic in Western Europe. That said, adequate leadership is necessary to exercise powers created by a combination of the coercion mentioned above and bureaucratic apparatus. The two acting effectively either in the army or society are a dangerous blend. In Feld’s (1998) view, the Dutch army was the closest establishment to resemble Machiavelli’s organisational effectiveness, nonetheless, at the

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same time the army setup did not pose a threat to the republican government in power at the time. Effectively, that allowed a new organisational culture to emerge, as it was one of the first examples of military culture (similar in its scope to the culture which appeared during the Industrial Revolution). He also points out that later, the French army and its structure of command were mimicking the social hierarchy. One of the earliest examples of industrial revolutions was “the industrialization of military behaviour in the Netherlands” (Feld, 1998: 434). Also, army officials gained some level of progression through the ranks. It was a form of social mobility. With that ability to move up the ranks, the army provided a possibility to become part of the nobility and effectively gain higher social status (due to army service and their devotion) (ibid.). Having discussed the role of military professionalism and leadership, it would be essential to look at war as an element in shaping the state, military, and public spheres.

War as an Instrument of Social Control To understand fully the importance of the military and processes of militarisation to social relations, it is beneficial to revisit some historical events and social processes, like war and the development of modern armies. For Wright (1951: 8), “war is a violent contact of distinct but similar entities”. Shaw (1991) sees war as a set of social processes which are related to other processes within society. That said, military institutions and culture are a product of, but also a stimulus for, social relations. Tarrow (2011) named three war-related processes: (1) mobilisation for war, (2) war-making, and (3) political conflict in war’s wake. All three influence decision-making processes in public spheres. Wright (1951) sees history as a contributing factor towards wars, as much as war is shaping history; and, together, scholars and state-people play an essential role in both of these social processes. According to Wright (1951), war is not a constant social factor, but a periodic recurrence, and it varies over time (depending on social and political conditions). Viewpoints on wars can differ as war can have aspects of it that will be objective or subjective (universal or particular).

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In other words, conditions that lead to a specific war or conflict will govern it to an extent. Similarly, wars can be catalysts of (temporary or permanent) social changes. The state and its officials can in conditions of one of the mentioned already, namely, the three phases of conflict, the pre-war, war, or post-war stage, use war (or threat of it) to subdue its citizens. War becomes an indirect tool of social control that can govern or affect people’s lives. Thus, the state triggered some of the social processes during and after the two World Wars since minorities and women were asked to take part in social life (including military service) more than they would in normal non-war life circumstances. Subsequently, these groups were asked in the post-war period to subordinate themselves again, and as a result, go back to their previously occupied social roles. States can also use wars in other ways to control their population. Stanislav Andreski (1998) is of the view that the origins of the war are to be found in culture, as war is a creation of culture (because it is nonexistent amongst mammals). Thus, he sees war as one of three factors inducing deaths more often than it is biologically inescapable; the other two are epidemics and starvation. Those factors can be used if the state does not actively pursue control measures of birth. Those (birth and death factors) collectively affect the composition of a society which after all might be influenced by the state. Wright (1951) in his A Study of War refers to some people’s view that war might be a crime that ought to be punished, a useful instrument, a legitimate and proper procedure, or a condition for which everyone must be prepared. Wars are fought using states’ proxy, soldiers.

The Soldier-Symbol Soldiers compose a large component of armies and statehood. A soldier embodies all things national (virtues, struggles, and hopes) (Daugbjerg & Refslund Sørensen, 2017). Thus, the soldier is considered by many, not only as an embodiment of the state but more so, the state itself (Bickford, 2011). In the common view, soldiers are blended into a mass of indistinguishable and unified representatives of the state, and as such,

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they represent an imagined community (Anderson, 1991) and an imagined idea of the state. Andrew Bickford (2011) sees reasons for that in states creating their ideologies based on the mythology of soldiers while turning those same soldiers as a result of mythic-like creatures. This process divides soldiers from the rest of the society but also creates a particular—privileged—category of people that others would like to aspire to and might join. It relates to the overall idea that soldiers resemble the history of the state through uniforms (and less so their uniformity). Wilson (1998) indicates that having and wearing military uniforms acts as a clear symbol differentiating friends from foes. In a more down-to-earth language, uniforms help distinguish military from non-military, also between one’s comrades and enemies, but also between units and ranks. Uniforms signify predominant and overarching military values (ibid.). Uniforms, in addition, act as a unifying tool helping soldiers to become more familiar with one another, but also to become closer through a means of commonality of their attire (which is a vital element of normalisation and incorporation of the military values into soldiers’ life). The militarisation of behaviours seizes that strategy of the normalisation and familiarity, and together with soldier-sentiment (hero-sentiment), those are utilised to rein in social groups. States wanting to affect social spheres can employ militarisation. Thus, the state promotes soldiers as the militarised arm of that state and its defender (Bickford, 2011). Also, Hedetoft (1993) notes that soldiers are tied symbolically to national heroes (a cult of civic heroism) who are praised by the national mythology and anthems which can be displayed (like soldiers’ statuses or triumphal arches). That said, the connection is built between national heroes and soldiers through their commonality in the fight. The fight is equivalent to the participation of citizens in the state, and a general call to action to strengthen and improve the state. Bickford (2011) views soldiers as walking memorials of history, a state, and collective memories; a reminiscence of the state’s power and its violence against others. Hedetoft (1993) indicates in the British context that there is a clear division between the feeling of patriotism in war and non-war times. In the case of wartimes, nationalism and patriotism are unconditional to an average British person. Whereas times of peace bring a relaxation

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in that attitude, where a British citizen displays some conditional forms of the above feelings towards the state. The former exemplifies an allcompassing common approach ‘we are in this together’ when people unite faced with a threat. While the latter relies on the idea that people look after themselves and those close to them when there is no major danger to their culture, way of life, and nation-state (as an umbrella to all of those). Therefore, it is so important to persuade people of the immediacy of a threat (real or imaginary), so that those people will be more united and more prone to accept the military rhetoric. Thus, the militarisation of behaviours as a comprehensive social process is designed to prepare for such conditions. Within that framework resides a term devised by Bickford (2011) called the military imaginary. It is a tool which is envisioned and utilised by the state to implement military service (which might be compulsory), so it would be connected to the normative ideal of the soldier (as a healthy person defending the state) and used to legitimise state’s violence, morality, and military tradition. The military imaginary is of importance to the interlink of the multiple military imaginaries within the state (of the state itself, the army, soldiers, and civilians) to continually persuade people to join the military.

A Citizen-Soldier When people enlist themselves, as noted by Bickford (2011), they do not come as ‘ready-made’. The state makes and shapes soldiers to maximise their potential for that state. The same applies when this argument is extended to the militarisation of behaviours, as citizens are not entirely predisposed to be, what we can call here, a citizen-soldier. When the state subjects its people to that process, they reach that point as quickly (and in general as much) as possible. Thus, one’s willingness to sacrifice and transcendent themselves for the sake of a nation (community, or merely a nationalistic idea) is the national benchmark of patriotism and national identity according to Ulf Hedetoft (1993). Similarly, an extension of that attitude is visible in the public sphere in the form of heroism and a vision of a citizen willing to surrender and offer themselves entirely for the good

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of the state. The above forms the basis for a successful introduction of concepts, being part of the militarisation of behaviours. There are several terms used to embody a deeply felt, incorporated, and communal experience (or connection) of a military kinship or bond (of camaraderie). It is usually in the form of a ‘lived affects’ of intimacy created between soldiers, morale, or esprit de corps (McNeill, 1997 cited in Adey et al., 2016). That said, the integrated and incorporated support for a common cause is one of the cornerstones of statehood and nation-building. Hedetoft (1993) notes that a nation-state creates a sense of a ‘Schicksalsgemeinschaft’ (‘community of destiny’), people who are prepared to offer themselves on the altar of statehood (and the state’s eternal life) and to be remembered and commemorated by that state for as long as it will last. As part of the study on the soldier patients during WWII, Weinberg (1946) discovered that during their recovery some soldier patients (as much as other soldiers would) struggled to exert a forgotten feeling of self-reliance which they were unprepared or unable to embrace (even considering family emergencies, like a sudden death of their relatives, including their parents). Being subjected to it through (1) training, (2) in a stressful environment of a battlefield, and (3) in a prolonged length of time, creates in people a level of dependency and habituation which is hard to leave behind. That said, one could appreciate the value placed in the process of re-socialisation of soldiers-veterans after wartimes. Parry and Aymerich (2022) provide us with an example of soldiers who are demobilised in conditions which remain highly militarised with high levels of militarised behaviours present in a community. The basic principle is to change the identity of the combatants so that they can transition back to civil life and regain their civilian identity. This is important since, for example, in the context of Iraq, a large number of combatants re-entering civilian life without support can undermine its stability and economic situation. Similarly, in cases when the state is exercising its control over its population (especially, if it is happening during prolonged periods, like with the militarisation of behaviours), those people who had their life taken over are prone to become dependent on the state on many levels. The state gains control over their lives and can assume its obedience through one’s dependency on that state. Personal inertia supports that process.

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Marleen Easton (2017) portrays armies as a bureaucratic form of public service offered to civilians. Internally, an army consists of a professional bureaucratic and rational doctrine mixed with elements of the traditional warfare culture. Besides, for the army, soldiers’ loyalty matters more than their education. Whereas externally the civil–army relations must be retained to maintain the army’s social legitimacy and stable inflow of recruits. Regarding social and cultural relations with society, soldiers themselves guarantee social legitimacy to the army. More broadly, the formalisation of army structures helped in the development and sustainment of the civil–military divide in society. Such a division (inclusive of a distinction between times of peace and war) is responsible for the formation of perceptions in the society which will inform the decision-making processes of its member. Tapping into that, the state can identify (using moral panics and securitisation) an enemy as part of its own populous (individuals and/or specific groups) and as such can consider them a threat to its existence. This identification, as a result, leads to the militarisation of behaviours of the state and its bodies. That, then, justifies a strong response to a growing number of dangerous people. The above shows the importance of the state and its formation in shaping and informing military and military culture. Over the years, several different military sentiments which can elicit emotive reactions entered the public sphere along with militarisation (remembering that honour is paramount in the army). Interestingly, the institution of the duel which is a way of modulating affairs of honour between the man of arms (a part of the military ethos and an instrument of the retention of group solidarity) permeated the civil spheres towards the end of the nineteenth century (while duelling was almost completely abandoned as a practice by officers) (Wilson, 1998). Another military sentiment of social importance is associated with one’s position in society. Ranks must be clarified for those who are militarised to be able to settle some social deputies, and instead of equality, one can observe the strengthening of divisions within societies because of the militarisation process. Ranks are, in a way, remains of the old aristocratic regime, with a clear-cut societal division of roles. To be adhered to, these require clarity of roles which are however unattainable in times of liquid modernity (see: Bauman, 2007; Bauman & Lyon, 2013; Delanty, 2000). If

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applied on an appropriate scale in a society, the process of permeation of military honour (and other emotive ways of behaving) incorporates privileges, distinctions, and pride of one’s status into the social structure (on macro, meso, and micro-level). That leads to a further distortion of the social equilibrium. It also confines the power to a close number of individuals who can grab, retain, and reproduce power associated with the mentioned process over time.

Concluding Remarks Military power translates into a tremendous geopolitical influence that would not be achievable without an extended military potential (Stavrianakis & Selby, 2012). Military potential and influence can be translated into political influence. So, for the state, it might be attractive to take the path of militarisation by extending investment into the military and trying to leverage that into gaining more (geo)political influence and recognition. Besides, Insook (2005) sees militarisation as a process which is promoted by the state through the creation of a feeling of urgency and necessity considering supposed national security. Through a constant presence of an army, military agenda, and culture stains all levels of decision-making processes in a state (at the governmental, meso, and community level), as violence is becoming ever-present in a public sphere.

Militarisation and Militarism Building on the historical context created in the above section, this part of the chapter is devoted to discussions revolving around topics of militarisation and militarism. Thus, different views on the concept of militarism are presented below, and those will be followed by a reflection on forms of militarisation (and demilitarisation). Together, these will form the basis for deliberation on the militarisation of behaviours.

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Militarism Militarism is a predisposition to seek military solutions applied to political problems and conflicts (Scott & Marshall, 2009: 472–473). Furthermore, militarisation is a process when a state applies a method resembling army operations to public sphere matters. Enloe (2004) portrays militarism as an ideology and militarisation as a socio-political process. Militarisation is a complex process which infuses militarism deeply into the core of society (ibid.). Whereas demilitarisation is a reversed process when the military character and influence on social spheres are eliminated or diminished (Carlton-Ford, 2017; Easton, 2017; Soanes et al., 2006). Many people approaching critical military studies and related fields encounter a definitional problem which should be disentangled. It is associated with the mixing of terms: militarism and militarisation. Both suffixes -ism (-izm) and -isolation (-ization) relate to actions captured in the form of a noun. Whereas -isms can also relate to states, principles, and doctrines. A suffix -isation is forming nouns denoting the act, process, or result of doing something, or of making something (Soanes et al., 2006). Thus, language difficulties and a lack of clarity might prevent studies on militarism and militarisation from further advancement. The term militarism, according to Mercadal (2017), was coined in the nineteenth century to denote the coup d’état and ideology led by LouisNapoleon Bonaparte, who became the first French president elected by popular vote. Nevertheless, militarist ideologies and societies have been there well before that. Contemporarily, militarism denotes a strong military presence, ideology, and superior policies any other ones imposed and supported by the state (ibid.). According to John Martino (2017), militarism describes the privileged role and function of the military in a society characterised by certain domination by the military over civilian life. It is based on the idea that citizens would be open about or appreciative of the military system of norms, ideals, and practices. Shaw (2012) sees it as a broad process which should not be limited only to the spreading of the military and its forms into a civilian sphere.

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Similarly, Howell (2018) and Price (2017) consider the possibilities of all matters being militarised, like people, values, cultures, and products. Mercadal (2017) sees militarism as an ideology, set of beliefs, or philosophy. Militarism, as a philosophy, can be responsible for the corruption of an initial purpose of the military in society (Mann, 1996). If employed at the state level (to an extent where the state is transformed into a militarist state), it can have a significant social, economic, cultural, and political impact on the state and its development. Militarism, to Jayadeva Uyangoda (2005), is an ideology that widens military influence in civilian life. Whereas militarisation is treated as a process that forms and instils militarist values and practices in society. Shaw (2012) takes the view that militarism represents an infiltration of social relations by military relations. While militarisation perpetuates militarism, demilitarisation reduces it. Some treat militarism as a symptom of the political underdevelopment of the state in which it occurs. Therefore, militarism endures in some developing countries (Mercadal, 2017; Reuschlein, 2017). Militarism, for Price (2017) is a controversial idea having a negative connotation that “highlights the tendency of a broader culture to be influenced by its military subculture” (ibid.: 1096). Militarism, for Stavrianakis and Selby (2012), can be defined more broadly as the preparation for, and conduct of organised political violence through social and international relations. Carlton-Ford (2017) sees militarism as consisting of several interrelated phenomena: establishing and up-keeping a substantial military potential of the state; the subservience of interests of others (including the state’s agencies) to the military ones; and finally, defending the state against external and internal enemies. Whereas the concept of militarisation relates to a specific aspect of militarism. Militarism cannot be confused with aggressiveness or a glorification of war or military structures. Similarly, militarism must be differentiated from military ideologies, which are principles praising and prioritising military activities (Shaw, 1991). In the context of post-WWII United States, C. Wright Mills (1999) claimed that the army grew in power, and around the same time, questions about the military and its influence started to become central to systems of power. Furthermore, militarisation can gain considerable influence over society. It can occur even if the military structures (and

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officers representing the military) do not represent the same level of influence in that society. Civilians (i.e., politicians) can employ militarisation in states in which the military has an insignificant standing in internal affairs. Correspondingly, a stable position of the military in a society does not mean inevitably an intensive process of militarisation in that society. So, those connections do not occur automatically in societies. Mercadal (2017) strongly argues that militarism is partly responsible for governments competing in the race of arms build-up. Similarly, militarism affects perceptions of the nation-state and simultaneous the growth of nationalist sentiment. Whereas Shaw (1991) acknowledges that contemporary, military build-up occurs independently of social militarisation and development of militarism. In other words, the military build-up (war preparation) does not have to entail militarisation (and the growth of militarism). Most of the above-mentioned authors see the application of the idea of militarism in the form of militarisation of certain aspects of life, mostly through the political lens (Joana & Mérand, 2014; Mabee & Vucetic, 2018). Militarism is a characteristic of world politics which is abiding and defining it nowadays. Examples of that viewpoint are captured by Mercadal (2017: 1067) as “political intervention, particularly in the way of coup d’état, defenestration, or overthrow of the civilian government, in order to establish military rule”. Moreover, military ideology (or militarism) can be a powerful way to persuade other social institutions in the state to adhere to or cooperate closely with the army. When deliberating militarism, it is hard to avoid a discussion on militarisation, as militarism is an overarching ideology responsible for militarisation (Carlton-Ford, 2017).

Militarisation Militarisation arises when a state controls a specific element of the public sphere, like army operations. It can occur when a conflict within or between nations arises (a military conflict); when a state starts purchasing weaponry (military build-up) to be prepared for that conflict (warpreparation); or when an uprising or insurgency is on the horizon (a

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military intervention; and militarisation of, and arming, the citizens). Enloe (2004) notes that militarisation happens most often during nonwar times. As a result, it also occurs when a resolution of a conflict is sought (by employing securitisation (see: Buzan et al., 1998); and when state officials are feeling uncertain of their position or safety (by utilising a military pacification; or militarisation of urban spaces [Wacquant, 2008]). Some academics (Shaw, 1991) also use this term in its narrow sense while referring to a growing presence of the military (or more precisely, the army) in the public sphere. Furthermore, words like defence and deterrence policies are used sometimes instead of militarism or militarisation (ibid.). Martin Shaw (ibid.) notes that under prevailing academic and public views, there are some social structures which can be subject to militarisation. These include international relations; state expenditures; bureaucracy; political and social life; forms of government; and finally, ideology. That said, political, ideological, and social militarisation should be accounted for when analysing modern warfare. Shaw notes that societies in which militarism is extended by war preparation undergo militarisation. What is interesting, the same author claims that during a process of war preparation a society can go through a process of partial demilitarisation. A nuclear age due to an increase in the numbers of nuclear weaponry and nuclear potential would be an example of such a situation. Militarisation occurs at its own pace. Nonetheless, there are instances where due to valid or superficial reasons the process happens quicker than usual. Those instances can be exampled by a state’s failure to maintain order during insurgencies or societal turmoil. Then, the state has a propensity to utilise the army for a short-term solution, or when a short-term solution is not achievable, it allows for the militarisation of the police. Militarisation is associated mostly with clear-cut situations where the state enters a path of prioritising the military and its rule over any other form of governance, for example, the Japanese military government of 1910–1945, and Korea after its superficial division in 1948 (Insook, 2005). South Korea exemplified an anti-communism militarisation (with a glorification of anti-communists, patriots, and moralisers within the

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state), whereas North Korea (and other USSR’s satellite states) represented an anti-capitalism militarisation. The South Korean account is a reversed situation of the Polish People’s Republic (PPR) regarding the state’s support for, and rejection of, certain ideologies as the PPR backed pro-communism ideologies in conjunction with the strong nationalism and sentiment for membership in the Soviet bloc. The only commonality is the process of the militarisation of behaviours. In both cases, the states decided to employ a strategy of strong incorporation of the military culture into a public sphere (through education systems, propaganda, censorship, and state policies and ideologies) as leverage against the influences of foreign powers and, to strengthen the state’s position and control internally as militarisation affects the state’s development.

Militarisation and Development The impact of militarisation on social development is difficult to assess uniformly, as some of its certain aspects enhance, and others hamper, social growth (Carlton-Ford, 2017). To date, most critical military scholars devoted their attention to economic militarisation (relating to the economic expenditure on the military) and social militarisation (focusing on the interrelations between the army and society). Whereas praetorian militarisation (discussing gaining influence and control over states and governments by the military) was somewhat neglected by theorists (ibid.). Praetorian militarisation (also on occasions referred to as praetorianism) prospers in countries with weak economies and governments. It is seen in countries recovering from colonialism during the first years following their independence. As colonial powers had no interest in developing self-governance in any form in their colonies while ruling them, these same colonial powers would not find it beneficial to help to build strong post-colonial states soon before or after abandoning their colonies (ibid.). In those countries, armies might have been the only stable leftover post-colonial and social institutions. As a result, many ideas about the social and economic development of post-colonial states revolved around the usage of the army. Militarisation is a reasonable strategy for the development of these states as people in those states

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portrayed the army as a stable structure which has the potential to help in the state’s development. Nonetheless, in most cases, armies retained funds that should be devoted to no-army purposes, which lead to a significant accumulation of economic power and amplified social capital by armies and their personnel. Militarism is also responsible for pouring more resources into the army, its equipment, and personnel in a belief that it would help counteract a growing danger of opposing forces and terrorism. That belief is fuelled by the media and by those in power but also the army itself (as in the case of the production of evidence which was used to persuade public and international opinion of the appropriateness to invade Iraq in 2003) (Martino, 2017). As a result, armies grew in numbers (regarding the professional and conscribed soldiers). The draftees then supplement a professional army whenever a need for that arises, and the army expands to meet the demands of a specific conflict. States began to support their military ability at a disproportionate level to any possible military conflict. A direct impact of that is now visible in the public sphere, and its reflection is seen in the education system at all levels.

Militarisation and Education A large army requires advanced preparations of young citizens for military service. The state needs to prepare a social ground in the minds of those young people so that they will be willing to sign up for military training (ibid.). To reach that goal, the state must incorporate military and nationalistic values into the educational system as, without it, the entire enterprise is not achievable to the required extent. In 1960, the US president, Dwight Eisenhower, coined the term military-industrial complex . It refers to “a network of intersecting and mutual interests of military and industrial organisations” (Johnson, 1995: 177). This concept, in principle, denotes cooperation of military and economy due to a highly profitable nature of war and warfare, and willingness on the side of the economically driven entities to support the conduct of war for its gains. Nonetheless, such cooperation is a threat to world peace, as it might be utilised to prevent employing and developing alternative

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conflict resolution strategies locally and internationally (ibid.). As such, the concept is a warning against the growing social influence of militarism (Kraska, 2007). Price (2017) highlights an unusual occurrence of the above complex being phrased differently (in a more detailed manner) as including an academic element which existed in earlier drafts of President Eisenhower’s famous speech on the military–industrial–academic complex.3 The word ‘academic’ was struck from the final version of that speech, and, initially, it entailed an element of militarisation of education. In the USA, to obtain higher education a person has three options: (1) finance it themselves and take on a substantial amount of personal debt, (2) attract external funding or apply for that which is available, or (3) voluntarily join the US army which might fund their education (for example, through the programmes offered to service people which are commonly known as the G.I. Bill). That way, the state can encourage more people to become militarised if they want to avoid taking on too much student loan debt. The burden of debt can be replaced with that of having to submit oneself to the state’s power and become a subject of militarisation. Martino (2017) suggests that in the North American context, some of the military programs aim to create a pool of reservists available in case of a conflict or just a need to conscribe them for any other reason. Young people are prepared for that purpose at both secondary and university levels through “university-based Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC) programmes or the secondary-school-based Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (JROTC) programmes” (ibid.: 1078). Those programmes are aiming at building and retaining a clear link between the state and its reserves based on traditions calling to mind the voluntary work of militias defending newly gained American territory. The same traditions should prevent the emergence of a European-style

3 “We annually spend on military security more than the net income of all United States corporations. This conjunction of an immense military establishment and a large arms industry is new in the American experience. The total influence—economic, political, even spiritual—is felt in every city, every State house, every office of the Federal government” (quoted in Ottosen 2009: 125).

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‘officer class’, and it is responsible for creating and retaining a connection amongst soldiers as equals willing to fight alongside and sacrifice themselves for one another. The Land Grant Act of 1862 was enacted in the USA as part of the effort to establish and grow colleges and universities. That legislation was solely responsible for the incorporation of military education into a reshaped American educational system (ibid.). In that context, Wright (1951: 5) notes that “new methods of education for citizenship, of serving the public, of compromising conflict interests, of propagandising group symbols, and of stimulating widespread participation in common tasks have gained a measure of success”. Similarly, in the USA in 2001 during the George W. Bush administration, military recruiters gained direct access to schools (students and their personal details) due to the renewal of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act, which was euphemistically referred to as ‘No Child Left Behind’ legislation (Martino, 2017). Competing forces are very much responsible for the military and militarism entering into the public sphere with more acceptance of warlike values. Similar situations occur in other states, like, the United Kingdom. For Martino, the ‘Global War on Terror’4 cemented those attitudes and allowed them to be brought to the fore of military attitudes. Especially in the USA, some schools started to rely on military strategies and tactics to retain control over their students. Some examples of military tactics employed by schools revolve around “the use of enhanced surveillance technologies, raids, random searches, sweeps, metal detectors, and checkpoints and the employment of armed security staff ” (ibid.: 1079). Those boosted efforts to maintain control within schools were responsible for establishing some schools as militarised zones. In so many cases, this was combined with the substitution of teachers by administrators who are disciplinarians. Instead of educating the youth, the school is disciplining them in a way resembling the army’s methods of gaining authority amongst its soldiers. Martino (2017) points out that the above process resulted in a change in the perception of the military 4

Badaliˇc (2019) that the same ‘war on terror’ was, in a matter of fact, a war against civilians (147,000 people died in Afghanistan and 65,000 people died in Pakistan).

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by youth as they started to identify military strategies and tactics with an appropriate response to (and resolution of ) any conflict. As mentioned already earlier, uniforms are a vital element of normalisation and incorporation of military values into soldiers’ life. The same can be said about school uniforms for students who must wear the same. Thus, an element of normalisation is blended with elements of commonality towards others. Uniforms can act as platforms for people to relate to one another, and as a result, be more prone to social standardisation and unification.

Militarisation of a Third Level Education Staying in the academic milieu, professionalisation occurs in a university context, as third-level education entities have an influence over and are influenced by professionalisation. Modern professions do not exist without a university education and vice versa. Some of the processes of militarisation (of behaviours) also happen in that same educational context. Especially in the post-9/11 USA, American universities became an arena for more robust corporatisation and militarisation (Howell, 2018). American science is intricately connected to the army, and both are benefiting from that connection (financially and knowledge-wise by an exchange of research and expertise). Howell (2018) maintains that most academic disciplines were categorised, organised, and shaped by conquest, warfare, and military funding supporting it. One of the most prominent influences of the military personnel on the educational system, as evoked by Howell (2018: 12), is Carl Brigham (a professor and scholar for the US Army and University of Princeton, and also a member and advisory council of the American Eugenics Society). Brigham created the Scholastic Aptitude Tests (SATs) which are the foundation of the USA educational system and one of the most excellent examples of standardised testing which originated within the Army. Another striking instance in the context of the militarisation of behaviours in third-level education is the usage of the college coat of arms (or more appropriately the college heraldic achievement [Puttock, 1985]). States grant these symbolic representations of power to specific

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institutions in a process designed by those states. When an entity is granting a symbolic representation (and value) to another institution, a symbolic transfer of values occurs towards that granted institution. Those values are associated with militaristic achievements, or more appropriately conquers. In other words, when universities are granted a coat of arms, a symbol of the power of the state with a military heritage is bestowed and engraved onto those institutions. In that way, the state imposes a military history, traditions, and culture associated with the symbol (of power) onto universities.

Militarisation by Other Means and Gendered Militarisation In the mid-twentieth century Asian context, when it comes to other forms of militarisation, we have to look into militarisation by other means (Loh, 2005) and gendered militarisation (Enloe, 2004; Insook, 2005). Malaysia is an example of the mildest form of militarisation conducted by civilian leadership. Whereas in the Philippines and Taiwan, it happened with substantial support from the army. In the cases of South Korea, Thailand, and Indonesia, militarisation was most visible as the military assumed power over the state and its matters ultimately (Insook, 2005; Loh, 2005). The differentiation of levels of militarisation is explained by Loh (2005) regarding the willingness of the states’ leaders to ally themselves with the USA. The United States acted as the main force responsible for the militarisation of these states and behind large expenditures on the army (which would benefit mainly the US military and economic sector). That attitude was combined with the overall fear of communism by those non-communist countries who wanted to protect themselves from ending up in the Soviet sphere of influence. Those same states accepted the idea of militarisation as a possible deterrent used against those trying to introduce or exploit the idea of socialism and undermine governments. Insook Kwon (2005) emphasises that militarisation of social and family relations is a process as part of the overall process of militarisation. Also, militarisation intersects with patriarchy (Dodsworth, 2019;

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Enloe, 2004; Uyangoda, 2005). That process subdues women in social and family settings to lesser and more socially demanding roles. Then, inter- and intra-family relations change and hurt females, but also the concepts of womanhood. A somewhat analogous situation occurred in the Polish People’s Republic. Insook (2005) notes that this happens as part of social militarisation, or more precisely, gendered militarisation. It is especially evident while looking at military prostitutes, militarised women workers, or military wives. Malaysia found itself in a situation where two major powers (the USA and the USSR) tried to gain and maintain as much influence as possible. The Malaysian state interpreted this situation of national security as a matter which should be addressed through means of law and order rather than the army (Loh, 2005). Thus, the state’s officials decided to increase the number of police forces (instead of army numbers). The colonial power successfully utilised such an approach during the time of Emergency (1948–1960). In 1948, the colonial government declared a state of emergency together with emergency regulations due to a murder of three European planters. Dodsworth (2019) raised a point about the role patriarchy played in the introduction and sustainment of securitisation. On the same token, militarisation as a broad process is functionally linked with the patriarchal structure upheld over centuries in the European context. Patriarchy and militarisation helped one another in maintaining the status quo where males had a dominant say about social and cultural matters. Both were useful to one another with aligned aims and goals as patriarchy was instilling militarisation into the minds of young males and forbidding females from partaking in the decision-making processes. Whereas militarisation was legitimising patriarchy as a leading form of social and cultural dominance by making it a reference point to any actions of males which were militarised. The ideology of war as a social factor that is associated with males and masculinity might be an example of such an interrelationship between the two. The process of gendering is neither entirely about women nor ideas of femininity (Insook, 2005). With regards to the military wives and the militarisation of females (for the benefit of the military), women’s lives are subdued and exploited by the military (and its direct and indirect needs) for the army to maintain its existence. Some features

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of the militarisation of women’s lives relate to a profound sense of sacrifice, patience, and patriotism. All those qualities should be owned and displayed by militarised females, no matter how difficult their circumstances would be (ibid.). That taps into the biological determinist argument endorsed by the ideology of women as natural caregivers (Chadwick & Little, 1987) offering support to their military families as part of their role of being females. Francis K. W. Loh (2005) discusses and analyses another form of militarisation, militarisation by other means which is introduced using coercive legalism. Malaysian government saw coercive legalism as the ‘rule by Law’ rather than the ‘rule of Law’. That is a mechanism for the state to maintain its power which resembles, or rather mimics, a balanced legal system with a democratic mechanism based on the constitutional system inherited from the British colonial power—several initiatives were introduced together with it (including restrictive laws) by the government. These had the purpose of transforming the disobedient people (the guerrillas and squatters) into citizens who would have a stake in the country and who adhere to the state’s rules. In restoring national security (which was redefined as ‘comprehensive security’), the state decided to use political and administrative initiatives alongside military operations and enactment and strict enforcement of the all-encompassing Emergency Laws (ibid.). Some of these laws imposed a temporary suspension of human rights in the state (with some cases of the enactment of these against constitutional provisions).

Parallels Between Different Concepts Relating to (De)Militarisation One can draw parallels between research carried out in the framework of socio-legal studies, criminology, and security studies. One such similarity relates to a study by Loïc Wacquant (2008) on the militarisation of urban marginality in South America, and more precisely Brazil in the 1990s. Wacquant refers to a social process which is internal to a state where a shift of attitudes occurred from penalisation to militarisation of urban marginality. As part of that process, virtual enemies of the

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state (residents of deteriorating favelas) were found, named, and treated accordingly. When enemies were identified, the state needed to persuade other citizens, these people were enemies of that state but also of the entire nation. By doing so, the state used the symbolic all-encompassing ideological structure to exclude and stigmatise a group of people for its purposes. The problem was identified in a growing rate of homicide, violence, and social disorganisation. A solution was proposed to treat ‘social trash’ accordingly (see: Propaganda discussing the process of dehumanisation and the concept of otherness). The state employed its police forces together with its army to deal with that issue. Wacquant (ibid.: 60) refers to it as the military police. Considering the fragile trust in public institutions, the spiral of violence accelerated with substantial input from the military police force. Then, the police violence was aligned with the control of the dispossessed by a force, which was a centuries-old national and post-colonial tradition. That tradition included a persistent legacy of police techniques and mutual antagonistic perception of the police force and those socially dispossessed. For Wacquant (ibid.: 62): “the means, scope, and intensity of the intervention of the police and judicial apparatus amounts to (re-)establishing a veritable dictatorship over the poor ”. The process of the militarisation of urban marginality leads to an expansion of the penal state beyond its reasonable and operable size. It also allowed state managers to bolster a deficit of their political legitimacy by reasserting state authority when those same politicians have little to offer to their electorate (Wacquant, 2008). Conversely, this process similarly to the militarisation of behaviours was initiated to rein in an entire state when state officials portrayed to identify a relatively small group of people. Those state officials depicted themselves as defenders of the order (considering the chaos which was partly their fault and responsibility). As part of that process, the state merged ideologically several social groups into one and later collectively branded them as enemies of the nation. The state was, in Wacquant’s view, tapping into a stereotype of people of African appearance as ones who were viewed as physically and culturally inclined towards lawlessness (ibid.). There are some differences between the militarisation of behaviours and the militarisation of urban marginality (MoUM). MoUM was a

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response to gang culture, while in the Polish People’s Republic, it was a consequence of a similar process employed by the state. Secondly, in the militarisation of urban marginality, the army is deployed on the streets against minority groups to accommodate the state’s primary obligation towards all its citizens. That situation effectively resembled a semi-state of war, with an ever-presence of the army in the public sphere (a visible presence of the army) against a specific social group. Whereas the militarisation of behaviours is responsible for internalising army behaviours and modus operandi by civilians without a need for a visible presence of the army, its equipment, and personnel (the invisible presence of the army and its techniques). Wacquant named several features of MoUM which would be somewhat different from the militarisation of behaviours in the way visible social divisions are created by “[1] the internal barricading of lower-class zones, [2] the external fortification of middle-class districts, and [3] the civic secession of upper-class enclaves of power and privilege but eventuates in the full-scale militarisation of urban cleavages” (Wacquant, 2008: 70). Whereas some could be utilised as a part of the militarisation of behaviours; nonetheless, the militarisation of behaviours mostly relies on covert operations and less visible forms of social control. When it comes to similarities, both processes are employed when the state is immensely failing its citizens but is trying to hold onto its power. In both instances, crime control is severe. Wacquant in the context of MoUM notes that “market economy and crime control fosters the practical reductio ad absurdum of the state to its repressive apparatus, and the merging of its civil and military forces for order maintenance. It turns public safety into a martial enterprise” (ibid.: 70). In that way, crimefighting creates a fertile ground for a masculinised political leadership employed for quick ‘fixes’ and instant ‘results’. That is localised in lower socio-economic city areas which become battlefields, where the state is engaged in “a literal war on their residents” (ibid.: 70). Also, simultaneous deployment of a penal state into targeted areas (of marginalities) leads to judicial and police repression. For Loïc Wacquant (2008), MoUM can occur when: (1) the state’s abilities to control its population are fading, or (2) in the absence of the social state. Either one of these can be combined with the simultaneous deployment of a penal state into targeted areas (of marginalities).

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That causes a derailment of life trajectories of those who are targeted (objects of these actions which resemble processes of objectification and dehumanisation of those people). That process is also responsible for the weakening of social and family ties and thus creating a space which can be filled by that state (resembling the State as a Substitute Parent situation discussed as part of the militarisation of behaviours). Then again, the state through its agents works to maintain an overpowering climate of distrust and fear of the authorities (which resembles a process of disenchantment). Finally, the state (through diligent actions of its law enforcement agencies) contributes directly to a deepening of the social and symbolic divide (which is bearing a resemblance to a process of otherness) (ibid.) and those elements are part of the militarisation of behaviours. Another striking similarity between the two processes lies in the fact of turning public space into “a martial enterprise” (ibid.: 70), merging the state’s civil and military forces to maintain order. Nonetheless, the two differ in the level and degree of the penetration of social life and its visible presence on a day-to-day basis. In both cases, the military supports the state’s civil apparatus. Nonetheless, in the case of the militarisation of behaviours, the military framework of thinking is utilised far more than the military equipment itself. Whereas MoUM benefits from the opposite situation, when the physical presence of the military is paramount, less so the usage of military tactics.

Demilitarisation A discussion on forms of militarisation would not be complete with an examination of demilitarisation. Demilitarisation is a reversed process of militarisation when the military character and influence on social matters are eliminated or lost (Carlton-Ford, 2017; Easton, 2017; Soanes et al., 2006). Demilitarisation can occur as a step forward in states which underwent either (or both) certain abrupt periods or effective systemic reforms. Marenin (2014) points at the post-1992 El Salvador as an example of a state which was demilitarised after a civil war. The National Police, which was controlled by the military, was dissolved, and

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the National Civil Police was reconstructed and made independent of the army. Thus, the army, due to its structure and power of its organisational authority was able to rein it back. Correspondingly, Carlton-Ford (2017) notes that the literature on civil–military relations might help assert demilitarisation by following a path of democratisation. Therefore, less democratic states can be democratised with varying levels of accomplishment; in most cases achieved through robust efforts of executive institutions combined with a foundation in the form of solid legislative bodies. That blend of executive and legislative efforts to exercise control over the military and decrease the military influence on the state organisations and their structure can be successful (see also: Diamond, 1992). Another element helping with the democratic transition rests on a limitation of involvement of active and former military personnel in governing the country (i.e., by restrictions on occupying ministerial and other positions in a government). Demilitarisation can also occur as part of grassroots processes when people organise themselves to form political pressures (Chenoy, 2005). Such a recent example of grassroots demilitarisation is demonstrated by a change in representations of guns by most of the biggest internet companies via the so-called ‘emojis’. A redesign of graphics presentations of handheld weapons occurred in 2018 on most online platforms in the aftermath of the Parkland shooting in the USA due to numerous demonstrations in support of the introduction of gun control laws in the USA (Anon, 2018). Similarly, in the case of the post-militarisation state, moral entrepreneurialism (a form of activism seeking to adopt or remove certain social or legal norms [Becker, 2014]) might act as a disruptive force in trying to achieve some form of stability and demilitarisation. The state itself will be in no position to remove the militarisation residue legislation. It is, firstly, since the militarisation of behaviours is a useful combination of tools imposing social control measures. Secondly, the politicians (acting as moral entrepreneurs) might be calling for keeping the legislation intact, as otherwise it would be treated and branded as the employment of a soft approach towards crime. As such, the state (and its officials) cannot be seen as weak. Conversely, an action taken

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by a non-state agent (including social activists) to tackle the problem of militarisation of the state would be considered treason against that state.

Police and Military—Interlinks Most often, demilitarisation emerges during post-war periods. Whereas historically wars in their varying forms were one of the primary activities of proto-states. To successfully wage wars, those proto-states first needed to preserve their power internally. Thus, internal and external coercion played a massive role in attaining contemporary state forms (Lea, 2016). For Marenin (2014), there is a clear correlation between the two coercive agencies of the state, the police and the military. Traditionally, these two agencies (or systems of agencies) were authorised and legitimised by the state to employ internally (by police) and externally (by the military) the use of force to deal with threats mostly in a legitimate manner. The connection between the two forces is that both have been given a task to protect societies from any threats (internal or external) and would be allowed to employ force while doing so (Howell, 2018; Marenin, 2014). According to Marenin (2014), in democratic societies, it was sanctioned by custom and law that the military would only intervene domestically when the state was unable to exercise its control over the internal state’s situation by any other means. So, the same force which historically protected the state and its boundaries is then utilised domestically. In that way, it poses a threat to residents rather than people living outside of the state. It can be viewed as a force established and utilised by the state (and its agents) to maintain the status quo within that state. Most of the discussion on militarisation relates to enforcement agencies, as, nowadays, militarised strategies are increasingly more visible and normalised (Tombs & Whyte, 2009). Nonetheless, currently, the military (or some part of it) is used internally within the state. That observable process is referred to as constabularisation, which is a somewhat different and reversed process to securitisation. Constabularisation of the military, according to Zavrsnik (2013), occurs when military personnel is deployed on a domestic front and for domestic security operations. In those instances, soldiers are not adequately equipped or even

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armed in the usual way. Constabularisation is a form of temporary demilitarisation of the army which can be seen, for example, in Ireland and as part of the United Nations missions. Marenin (2014) notes that the joint training and deployment of both military and police on the same international missions leads to a further blurring of the boundaries between the two forces. Because of that, we can observe (para)militarisation of policing and constabularisation of the military, and both processes are interconnected. The blurring of military and police tasks is nothing new, but it is more pronounced in modern times. Some of the processes partly responsible for that in the national arena are the war on terrorism, international and transnational (organised) crime; and in the international arena: the weakening of border controls, peacekeeping and peacebuilding interventions; and finally, both nationally and internationally in the way information is acquired, processed, and distributed (Marenin, 2014; Zavrsnik, 2013). In principle, the most significant difference between police and the military is the level of transparency of information which both can share with the population. Marenin (2014), highlights the need to retain a continuous openness of the police force (with a glaring exception of temporary secrecy relating to ongoing investigations for a duration of these), whereas the army can retain a great deal of secrecy (with minimal societal oversight). Transparency is severely limited due to the way national security is framed. That allows for secrets to be veiled from national and international players. Another difference lies in the level of jurisdictional oversight. The military, in most cases, has its separate legal system, with its legal acts and the court system. The police are accountable to public oversight and the courts; the military has its legal system, code of conduct, and ‘criminal justice’ institutions (military police, administrative tribunals and courts, and investigative units) (ibid.). One more important divergence relates to the level of professional discretion within the military and police force. For Marenin (2014), lower ranking police officers have a certain level of discretion to deal with matters at hand appropriately. It is the opposite in the military, where soldiers of lower ranks (especially the so-called non-commissioned ones) must follow orders scrupulously, while seniority of ranks means more decision-making discretion for officers.

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Military and police forces for centuries were indispensable assets in capturing and reining power over people and territory. Thus, Robin Law (1998) while discussing Goody’s work on West African states, notes that the ownership of the means of destruction was more important than the ownership of the means of production. Kraska (2007) considers militarisation regarding its function to blur an institutional division between the police and military, but also to dilute a more general distinction between war and law enforcement. Covertly, it must be emphasised that the militarisation of behaviours is a broader process through which a state blurs the boundaries even further.

Securitisation and Moral Panics Introduction The concepts of moral panics and securitisation are two parts of the same spectrum used by anyone who wants to affect social or legal norms and public spheres. This section aims to present these two concepts, discuss their interlinks, and offer a critique of these two processes. For clarity’s sake, moral panics and securitisation are detached from the sections discussing militarism, militarisation, and the militarisation of behaviours. Nonetheless, the two concepts form a part of the process of the militarisation of behaviours. In addition, moments of significance (moments in time when a major change happens) can generate favourable conditions for moral panics and securitisation to occur or vice versa.

Moral Panics and Securitisation—The Concepts The concept of moral panics can be traced back to 1831 (Horsley, 2017). Journalists would often refer to it, whereas Young (1971) by his study of subcultures and drug-taking brought it into academic debates. Relatively soon after that, it became one of the main fragments of a theoretical framework within post-1960s criminology due

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to Stanley Cohen (2002). Moral panics relate to a potential or imagined threat combined with moral outrage towards social actors (folk devils) and objects who embody a social problem. Moral panics occur in conditions of widespread agreement on the existence of that social problem, but it disproportionality creates a panic which erupts and dissipates suddenly and without warning (volatility) (ibid.: xxvi–xxvii). This concept encapsulates a media response towards minor acts of deviance of some individuals or groups in the form of misrepresented, exaggerated, and distorted minor transgressions which provoked public fears (ibid.). Such media representations feed the politics of reactionary governance and punitive social policy (Horsley, 2017). Moral panics are not a contemporary phenomenon, according to Henry (2007: 1089), with some examples of moral panics observed as early as the sixteenth century in Europe during witch hunts and throughout the twentieth century in the form of Nazism and fascism. Contemporarily, Cohen (2002) argues that the phenomenon of moral panics can be attributed to a theory of societal reactions to deviance. Moral panics can be seen as an analytic concept which relates to a characteristic category of social behaviour (which might be labelled as deviant), and it is indicated by an overwhelming feeling of an emergency associated with endangerment of social values which can be attributed to a folk devil ; and which triggers a disproportionate response from those who feel threatened (Bromley, 2007; Robert, 2007). Moral panics are an exaggerated version of a broader process by which elites maintain control over public concerns by manipulating them purposefully in a top-down manner (Hall et al., 1978; Horsley, 2017). Cohen (2002) emphasises that there is a requirement for visibility for this process to occur. Whereas the criteria for driving moral panics in the media, as identified by Cohen (ibid.: xxvii), are: “drama, emergency and crisis; exaggeration; cherished values threatened; an object of concern, anxiety and hostility; evil forces or people to be identified and stopped; the eventual sense of the episodic and transitory, etc.”. In Cohen’s view, those criteria are self-evident. It is where moral panics intersect with securitisation. Thus, securitisation is seen—in conditions of a disproportional panic—as a tool to address those social problems that triggered moral panics.

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Conversely, securitisation denotes a tendency to employ a military/war model of operations by police (and other segments of the criminal justice system) concerning problems of crime, drugs, terrorism, or other social problems (Buzan et al., 1998; Kraska, 2007). Both securitisation and moral panics are normative social processes which are utilised when a need arises to address a pressing social issue and to modify an approach (through strength or weakness) to that problem within that society. Garland (2002) referred to the above as productivity of moral panics (and securitisation) as those who have the power to influence changes by creating effects and leaving legacies. Whereas both processes can also be used instrumentally by moral entrepreneurs (Becker, 2014) to obtain their goals. In most cases, moral panics trigger an outcome in the form of either (or both) a social or normative change. After an occurrence of such a change, it is difficult to lift it following a moral panic period. Ivan Bacik (2004) notes that the law resists change similarly to many other institutions. Time has to pass to create a possibility to reverse an outcome of that change. Bishop and Feld (2014) are of the view that a similar unprecedented social momentum is needed to push for a change in an opposing direction to the original moral panic (which does not have to mean necessarily its reversal). Conversely, in the case when punitive measures are introduced, similar social support would have to be in place before any consideration would be given to moderation of those measures (e.g., for those to become more humane and sensible). Cohen (2002) believes that moral panics should not be confused with forms of mass delusion or hysteria, which are public reactions to some of the social problems not connected to a specific group of people (environmental issues, poverty, and so forth).

Evaluation of Moral Panics Goode and Ben-Yehuda (2009) discussed the concept and dissected it into five separate elements: concern, hostility, consensus, disproportionality, and the already mentioned, volatility. Firstly, a particular social issue is captured in the form of concern over an event reported by the media

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(the primary driver of an entire process) and which has the potential to create mass anxiety. Secondly, there is hostility towards an identifiable group of people who can be blamed for the anxiety and labelled as a result, in Cohen’s (2002) terms, as folk devils. That is linked with the growth of experts who build and exercise their newly acquired authority and acumen on the topic (Henry, 2007). Thirdly, at a social level, there is a degree of resemblance of a response to the situation and a certain social consensus is reached. Fourthly, at this point, a social response is widespread and exaggerated about the threat that this situation is posing to the population. Moreover, some might be calling to use proper measures like the police or to employ a process of securitisation. In addition, disproportionality assumes that one has a superior knowledge of reality, which is not objective, and on that basis, a reaction cannot be measured appropriately regarding a reaction to the situation. In contrast, reality should not be treated in binary or other mathematical terms to measure and weight action and reaction as proportionate or not (Greer & Reiner, 2014). Finally, the last element of the process relates to the volatility of the situation, where both the social and media attention devoted to the situation are suddenly appearing and disappearing in the public sphere (Goode & Ben-Yehuda, 2009). Also, volatility relates to a state of the liquidity of matters where everything postmodern is free-floating, ever-changing, and not to be grasped entirely by anyone (Bauman & Lyon, 2013; Greer & Reiner, 2014). Moreover, the occurrence of moral panics can be discussed using three different models grassroots, elite domination, and interest group conflict. In sociology, academics use the same three models to explain the creation of law and the legal system. Firstly, the grassroots model relies on the idea that a moral panic is a result of misguided anxiety caused by societal stress, which is projected onto a group of people and their behaviour. That can be a beginning, or a perpetuation, of labelling deviancies. Secondly, the elite domination model relies on the perception that those in power or leaders who are responsible for and steer moral panics in the way which is beneficial to them (by leading the public attention astray or away from matters that would weaken their power). Finally, the interest

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group conflict model rests on the idea of moral entrepreneurs exercising their influence through intensified efforts to define a social, moral domain and to determine social narratives. The latter can be explained by moral entrepreneurs targeting and undermining certain groups, and their competition (ibid.). In Cohen’s (2002) view, moral panics should be judged, having in mind the context in which these appear. Indeed, the mentioned groups and their representatives are acting within a social context, and they cannot be regarded in the same way as the laboratory animals being presented with a series of random stimuli. In addition, situations triggering moral panics and reactions to these panics relate to conflicts of interests and power (within a particular context). Whereas Garland (2007) believes that behind moral panics lies several social issues and processes. Broadly speaking, some of them relate to transformations in moral , social , or economic spheres. Other problems revolve around “threats to existing hierarchies, status competition, the impact of social change upon established ways of life, the breakdown of previously operative structures of control” (ibid.: 5). These can be used as justification for the securitisation of police. As a result, police can become tools of power for a political coterie (Connolly, 2007). There are two crucial elements of moral panics theory, which are omitted in the discussion around that theory (Garland, 2007). The first one is on the moral dimension of a social reaction to a social issue. Garland notes that most, but not all, issues can be moralised. Those issues that are not ‘moral’ should not, in his opinion, be analysed using a moral framework. The problem relates to a perception of a social issue as a symbolic warning of a more significant social problem or a threat to established social values. That issue is viewed as a significant threat to the existence of social cohesion or a social value system. For Henry (2007), one of the criticisms of moral panics, from the social constructionist perspective, is that it focuses too much on fear and intimidation sparked by the activity of a group of people rather than on that behaviour itself. Similarly, for Victor (1998), moral panics regarding crime and deviance rely on an image or perception of a group of people (rather than their real representations) as deviants. When a group of people is labelled as deviants, that triggers a social reaction

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against them, that action then legitimises accusations and inappropriate reactions which can give rise to urban legends. Then, authorities or experts (or those who portray themselves as such) may be taking the lead on the creation or steering of a narrative associated with a situation and might call for securitisation. That labelled group and their actual actions are irrelevant, as there is no need to identify them. Only a specific category of behaviour is essential to the situation, as it “may be created, vilified, and demonised, without any real people being accused” (Henry, 2007: 1090). Another general problem with moral panics relates to the attitudes of journalists, which can be encapsulated in the phrase trial by media (Greer & Reiner, 2014: 2819). For Greer and Reiner, that attitude has several components. Firstly, it includes a default position of guilty until proven innocent, which is a reversal of one of the main principles of the Western legal systems innocent until proven guilty. It acts as a social countermeasure to a justice system that is most of the time perceived as slow and inefficient. When employed by media that guilty until proven innocent attitude consists of righteous naming and shaming of those subjected to it, but also of criticism, denunciation, and overall contempt towards those same people. Greer and Reiner note that media (and news specifically) act as a proxy for public opinion. Having in mind that perspective, the media can exercise their influence in a way resembling a fulfilment of a social justice function. Contemporarily, an increase in some media outlets (including those off- and online) facilitates and accelerates at a media circle speed. As a result, the above processes are more vivid and to be encountered more often. That, then, can only be achieved when those processes are very intense, graphics, or convincing to its addressee. Otherwise, those processes are unable to capture one’s attention due to a short window of opportunity created by an ever-changing and short-lived media feed, which might be a reason moral panics persist in societies. Moral panics, for Cohen (2002), with all their problems and uselessness rearranged a theoretical landscape. Cohen noted that social constructivism and claim-making theories were not available when he formulated the concept of moral panics, and contemporary readers are in an advantageous position by having access to the depth of those theories. Moral panics are widely recognised, and discussed, but also more

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often nowadays criticised. Conceptually, Cohen created a space for a widespread academic debate on issues revolving around media and the use of moral panics. Deliberations on the process of securitisation partly occupy the same space.

Securitisation The concept of securitisation refers to state actors transforming topics of focus into matters of ‘security’. For Buzan et al. (1998: 24), “‘[s]ecurity’ is the move that takes politics beyond the established rules of the game and frames the issue either as a special kind of politics or as above politics”. For them, as a result, securitisation might be a more extreme version of politicisation. The matter can be securitised when “the issue is presented as an existential threat, requiring emergency measures and justifying actions outside the normal bounds of political procedure” (ibid.: 23–24) and when the public accepts it. The term securitisation was coined by Ole Wæver (1995) and instantly captured academic attention worldwide (Aradau, 2004). It is seen as a ground-breaking alternative to realist and neo-realist approaches to security which are looking beyond the state’s realm. By some, securitisation is seen as “a theoretical tool used to facilitate practical security analysis” (Taureck, 2006: 57). For the purpose of our discussion, we can consider two categories of securitisation, securitisation sensu largo (speech) and securitisation sensu stricto (actions). Securitisation sensu largo is a broader category which relates to speech and the way people discuss specific problems in the public sphere, while securitisation sensu stric to is a narrower category encompassing activities employed as part of that process. Both can influence one another and create conditions for the other to occur. Securitisation sensu largo can prompt a securitising move and as a result, trigger securitisation sensu stricto. Whereas the employment of securitisation sensu stricto can generate discussions in the public sphere in a form of securitisation sensu largo or voices opposing it. In the context of securitisation, security is often referred to as a state of being, a condition, or a process of practice (Nyman, 2018). For Phil

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Carney (2017: 490), security is contextualised in three different forms (1) security from threats (i.e., enemies); (2) security to (or access to) fundamental rights and goods; and (3) security of states of existence (peace or certainty). Security can be seen as a specific kind of politics occurring in five security sectors: military, political , economic, environmental , and societal (Buzan et al., 1998). The Copenhagen Peace Research Institute (known as the “Copenhagen School”) using constructivist thought in discussing security studies, considers security a speech act which is created by social actors (typically in a position of power) to achieve their agenda (Nyman, 2018). Wæver (1995) sees security in a negative light, as a failure to cope with reality constructively. Security measures seem to be ever-expanding and create (or be a creation of ) new threats and risks (Taureck, 2006). Thus, threats can be real or merely perceived (Nyman, 2018). Carney (2017) associates security and its origins (especially in the European context) with pastoral power exercised towards apprehensive, self-scrutiny, self-punishing, and guilty people through means of church pulpit and confessional. In that way then, people, or rather subjects, became agents of their subjection via self-surveillance. Confession as a method to obtain information helps maintain order thanks to knowledge obtained because of it. Discourse on security, as maintained by Stavrianakis and Selby (2012), since 1989 was spread beyond a nation-state territorial defence and encompassed matters revolving around the human, global, and environmental security; and topics of migration, trafficking, health, and minorities. The new ramification involves consideration of possible interventions and their consequences. Securitisation is seen as an extension, or more so as a substitution, of the Cold War debates on militarisation (Buzan et al., 1998). With the above, a shift of attention coincided, where discussions on the importance and influence of armies and militarisation were replaced with a broader concern with an application, acceptance, and endorsement of extraordinary security measures (Stavrianakis & Selby, 2012). Securitisation to be successful must have “three components (or steps): [1] existential threats, [2] emergency action, and [3] effects on interunit relations by breaking free of rules” (Buzan et al., 1998: 26). A need for the co-occurrence of those three elements of securitisation is viewed

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by Taureck (2006) as a sort of a safety feature preventing all social matters from ending up in its scope. Once a social actor (like a moral entrepreneur) identifies an existential threat, it can make a so-called securitising move to persuade the public about the imminence and danger of that identified threat to act upon it (Buzan et al., 1998). That securitising move entails an out-of-the-ordinary response aimed at that threat. The actor uses their power to socially construct or depict the threat, which requires a level of social skills and coherence (Taureck, 2006). Often when securitisation is discussed, its twin concept of desecuritisation, (the unmaking of securitisation) is also considered (Aradau, 2004). Ole Wæver (1995) perceives desecuritisation as a sign of normalisation where matters are dealt with in a (democratic) manner which is expected by the public in a public sphere (Taureck, 2006). Thus, both securitisation and desecuritisation are treated by Wæver (1995) as the political process. Whereas in Nyman’s (2009) view, the scope of matters which might be subject to securitisation ranges from non-politicised (not interfered with by a state) to politicised (within a political public sphere and being part of public policy). For Buzan et al. (1998) security is a social instrument which should not always be viewed as a positive matter, due to its many adverse outcomes. Thus, for Wæver (1995), we should aim for desecuritisation, as it would shift “issues out of emergency mode and into the normal bargaining processes of the political sphere” (ibid.: 4). However, the concept of desecuritisation, which is fundamentally connected to its mirror image of securitisation, Aradau (2004) notes, is also plagued by the same problems which suffocate the concept of securitisation.

Blurring Lines According to Buzan et al. (1998), the securitisation criteria are blurring nowadays, and there is a possibility of imposing security onto normal day-to-day situations or problems. Those must be “staged as existential threats to a referent object by a securitising actor who thereby generates

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endorsement of emergency measures beyond rules that would otherwise bind” (Buzan et al., 1998: 5). That would expose societies more to militarisation and the militarisation of behaviours. That extension of securitisation into new domains affected its ability to be all-encompassing and blurred its theoretical and practical capacity. For Stavrianakis and Selby (2012), those failures can be observed in the international military alliance structures, arms trade, military–industrial relations, and military dictatorships in some parts of Africa. The latter is caused partially due to the Eurocentrism of securitisation research (ibid.). In contrast, security studies, by broadening its scope, shifted attention from the military, but also allowed many to overlook and hinder critical scrutiny on problems of militarism and militarisation. Whereas militarisation seems to be focusing on an institution and organisation of war (within and outside of wars), and as such, it would be prone to discursive or materialist research. Nonetheless, it is of global relevance and usefulness due to its more extensive analytical capacity (ibid.). Securitisation expands under the umbrella of militarisation. Militarisation of police in Kraska’s (2007) view is a backstage phenomenon which emerged as a resistance or a corrective pressure in the dawn of a tremendous demand to incorporate community policing into the American police force operations. However, Jayadeva Uyangoda (2005) believes that militarisation grows as a response to internal conflicts, and it is historically connected with the emergence of a national security state. That is then linked with a state’s repressive and interventionist potential. Uyangoda sees securitisation as a process which is functionally connected and parallel to the process of de-democratisation (a characteristic which is shared with the militarisation of behaviours). Thus, a traditionalist approach of equating the use of force with all forms of interference in the social tissue (Buzan et al., 1998) only considers that any indirect actions would be in the form of a threat of violence. It does not take into account any forms of active or passive structural or societal setup which sway or prevent specific actions on the part of the population. This characteristic is the crucial difference between securitisation and the militarisation of behaviours. As the latter allows for active and long-term engagement and exposition of people

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to certain behaviours and processes that would affect the way people perceive and adhere to their reality. Of importance in the context of the militarisation of behaviours is that securitisation might be considered a pre-step in changing behaviours (Buzan et al., 1998; Windle, 2016), as security aspects of surveillance can be damaging to communities when applied due to a weakening of social ties and an erosion of a social tissue generated by security. Thus, suspicion and anxiety are created amongst community members (Carney, 2017). Hence, over the years, some dictatorships seemed to adopt national security rhetoric, which enabled the development of policies supporting the military and assisting in the implementation of social repressions (Mercadal, 2017). For Marenin (2014), securitisation of the police force progresses over time. To support his view, he laid out four assertions. Firstly, police will be complicit in changing its orientation towards a more forceful and more readily use of a dehumanising language of an enemy and threat, but also acting appropriately on that language (more on the importance of the use of language is discussed below). Secondly, an alteration of an attitude of the public service towards being hard on crime (by a redefined public order and safety threats) is going to occur over time. Thirdly, the police force will be quickly drawn into counterintelligence strategies and tactics which would possibly lead to an infringement of privacy and data. Finally, the above would result in a limitation of accountability and transparency (ibid.). Marenin concludes his work about militarisation with a brief warning that the process of militarisation is not the greatest threat to the police force and policing. In fact, more so in democratic countries, such a threat is posed by the politicisation of policing.5 The above relates to the role of the police force in applying the militarisation of behaviours and policing of society. The police force is a key factor influencing the

5 “Michael Banton argued many years ago [in 1964 in his book The policeman in the community] that there is a danger of developing a sociology for the police rather than a sociology of the police. The danger is quite simply that an occupation’s interests, those of the police elite and supporters, are in large part but not exclusively a reflection of their political interests and, to lesser degree, scholarly interests and theories” (Manning, 2014: 4512).

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process of the militarisation of behaviours, as police forces are accommodating some of the components of that process. That is then connected with the state’s surveillance abilities allowing for a further perpetuation of the state’s influences over its citizens.

Moral Panics, Securitisation, Moments of Significance, and the Militarisation of Behaviours There is an overlap between concepts of moral panics, securitisation, moments of significance, and the militarisation of behaviours. Broadly, moral panics offer opportunities to facilitate moments of significance and securitisation, as moral panics occur during disruptive times of a moral shift. Bearing that in mind, these occasions can act as particularly productive social venues for a revaluation of the roles of social tools like consensus and conflict in the social construction of specific behaviours (Bromley, 2007). The state or its agents might be able to utilise those moments in time and create moments of significance for that state by reshaping public opinion, affecting a public sphere landscape, incorporating a societal change, or introducing a change in a social structure. The state can exert this situation as an opportunity to justify the above where the use of force would seem like a natural and adequate response, and as a result, employ the militarisation of behaviours. Nonetheless, states are not the only actors opportunistically using moral panics. McRobbie and Thornton (1995) observed that an awareness created over the years around the concept of moral panics formed a situation where certain (commercially driven) groups made attempts to anticipate an emergence of moral panics around a specific topic to gain financially, utilise it as an opportunity to endorse their agenda or discount an agenda of another group. Similarly, one manipulative tactic could entail, according to Bromley (2007), manufacturing a mythical past of a group of people to simplify and facilitate scapegoating of that group considering growing dissatisfaction with that group. Unsurprisingly, considering manipulative tactics, a state might employ those same techniques directly or through its agents (which is one of the features of the militarisation of behaviours).

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Harris (2007) indicates that a state can divert attention from any suggestions that the state strengthens itself and decides to take severe measures against its citizens. One of the ways to achieve that is to identify a group of people (possibly a minority group, or more preferably a heterogeneous group which is dispersed or otherwise disorganised) as the state’s enemy. Such an action would justify a firmer state’s response to that group’s behaviour. On a side note, in future after employing that approach, it is difficult for the state agents to utilise other and less forceful means towards similar behaviours. In general terms, this is one of the reasons for the crawling of the militarisation of behaviours in contemporary societies. Likewise, at the time when the concept of moral panics emerged, one of the explanations for the specific situation in Great Britain was a social shift towards a post-industrial society. That shift created some social tension and unrest (Hall et al., 1978). Situations like that intensify calls from some moral entrepreneurs for a more authoritarian resolution of social problems (Hall, 2009). If acted upon, these situations can lead to the employment of the militarisation of behaviours. Also, a specificity of events described by Cohen (2002) was associated with a new level of mobility which became available to youth people at the time (via motorbikes of all sorts). Cohen suggests that this situation was not only highlighting physical mobility but also a social one. As those people have created a perception of not belonging to, or originating from, a specific social class (for example, they have been wearing clothes that could not be tied to a social class). As such, youth people initiated a process of blurring class boundaries which could be viewed as a sign of a post-industrial era, or more generally, a sign of a more profound social change. Moreover, Cohen (2002) commented that this situation in Great Britain rested on a portrayed level of organisation, as at the time, greater mobility and uniformity of clothing resembled a level of an organisation only attributed to the police (or other state formations). Bromley (2007) mentions that fundamental to the consideration of moral panics is a disproportionate and biased response of some social actors. Such a response could be linked to anxiety triggered by a social change, which might be very disruptive to those social actors.

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Equally important, moral panics focus attention on the nature of social life and deviancy as seen through a constructive lens incorporating interactions of claims-makers, folk devils, and society (as spectators of that social spectacle) (Bromley, 2007; Hall et al., 1978). On that basis, moral panics are a social reaction in the form of a shared outrage in pointing out a moral dimension to a situation and calling for stricter penalties for those involved in identified behaviours. More generally, that situation might in response create a demand for an introduction of new policies and more activity on the side of law enforcement agencies (securitisation) (Bromley, 2007; Kraska, 2007; Ritzer, 2007). Hence, the appearance of a greater organisation bore a resemblance to a more significant threat to a known societal order. Thus, the more significant the threat is, the more adequate the state’s response should be to it. Moreover, those are favourable conditions for a state to implement the militarisation of behaviours, as more observable elements of that process will be applied with public support for such measures. Similarly, a mass delusion can be fought, in Cohen’s (2002) view, when “a counter-suggestibility produced by the absurdity of some of the initial beliefs” (ibid.: 168) is followed by the feeling of the appropriateness of countermeasures employed in a specific situation. In most simplistic terms, if that is the case, citizens view the state as receptive to a problem only when it deals with that problem in a way these citizens perceive as adequate. A level of its engagement judges the adequacy of the state’s response to that specific socially problematic matter. Nonetheless, this is like an open invitation for the state to exaggerate its position and be tough on issues perceived by most people as threatening to a nation. As measures employed in achieving a feeling of adequateness of the state’s response are likely to exceed an essential level of state’s activity required in the situation, and then, the militarisation of behaviours is likely to be introduced by that state.

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Conclusions This section aimed to reflect upon concepts of moral panics and securitisation; and to contextualise these within the process of the militarisation of behaviours, as these concepts form a part of that process. However, for greater clarity, these concepts were discussed alongside the deliberations on the role of the military and concepts of militarism and militarisation. As it was shown above, moral panics and securitisation are important social processes. These processes are interconnected and can become an extension of one another. Both can occur during moments of significance to the development of a social system, nation, or state; or can accommodate an emergence of moments of significance to one of these. Moral panics and securitisation are used instrumentally in instances when a social actor (possibly a state through its agents) wants to influence the social or legal normative system or public spheres. Then, moral panics and securitisation can be used instrumentally to employ a process of the militarisation of behaviours. In my view, securitisation is only a sign of the militarisation of behaviours; or more so, securitisation is a by-product of the militarisation of behaviours. Obviously, it is part of that process, but it plays a part in making people obedient and it appears, among other reasons, due to the ever-present element of fear imposed on the thought processes of citizens and instilled by the state itself. Later, once the state begins implementing the militarisation of behaviours other actors happily play their part in increasing the size and magnitude of that mechanism which increases as a result of people’s obedience.

Criticism of Militarisation and Securitisation After revisiting some assumptions relating to militarism, militarisation, and the role of the army and police, we should shift our focus to criticism of these. Some criticisms relating to the concepts of militarism and militarisation relate to the idea that those two assume a prori existence of non-militarised circumstances (a military-free situation). That assumption is considered by Alison Howell (2018) and it is slightly misplaced

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due to the long-standing history of political and social spheres’ interconnectedness with military ones. Equally, such an approach undermines and even abnegates that militarisation is a product of war and war-like politics and behaviours, and it considers war as a process separated naturally from social spheres (ibid.). In contrast, war is an ultimate test of sovereignty when militarism may be essential for the state and its political elite to sustain itself (Mabee & Vucetic, 2018). When it comes to securitisation, the militarisation of police forces can be a very limiting concept, as it is only empathising its partial outcome and impact on reality, and as such, it takes public attention away from the processes of militarisation and the militarisation of behaviours. Howell (2018) proposes that militarisation should be in most cases substituted with a more-encompassing concept of martial politics developed by herself. Martial politics is a broader concept encompassing a historical context of war-and-peace occurrences; which considers its historical influence; and which should remove a before/after temporal effect and a duality of war and peace of the concept of militarisation. Nonetheless, Howell has not envisioned it as a total concept. In her view, this concept responds better to problems by being more precise in what it does. The concept of martial politics is somewhat inadequate to the post-power situation in racially homogenous states like Poland or postWWII PPR (from 1956 onwards) as a gender situation was less complex than that comparable to racially heterogeneous states where gender situation is far more intricate. In some cases, martial politics as the concept can dilute an understanding of the situation by adding criteria which are applicable in more socially diverse societies. Howell (2018) rightly notes that there is a mistaken belief that the origins of militarisation are to be found in the 1980s. As in the North American context, indigenous people and slavery were crucial to the (formation of ) the American criminal justice system. Her view was confirmed by the author’s research, as the process was rooted well before the 1980s. Also, in the context of the Polish People’s Republic, the state (trans)formed a Polish society, so that this state could become ethnically and religiously homogenised, and most people were treated not as citizens, but as part of the overwhelming whole, the society. Ironically,

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the PPR also used the process of homogenisation to differentiate and prioritise some social groups over others. Also, it is worth emphasising that the mentioned research confirms that militarism and militarisation (of behaviours) is not an instant process which occurs overnight. As a mechanism behind militarisation (of behaviours) with its consequences, these do not appear suddenly. Instead, militarisation accounts for a historically continuous process of influence of the military over (but also by) the state and its people with its ever-changing patterns and strengths. In other words, it is a continuous process that, to an extent, regards and holds influence over civilian life. Militarisation was always encompassing those temporal and continuous elements. Nonetheless, maybe these elements were not highlighted with enough attention and initial definitions of that process should be revisited. Militarisation (of behaviours) and military build-up supports and preserves a predominant status of cultural ideologies. Because of that, the state’s political domination is maintained using “the denial of multiculturalism, pluralism and democracy” (Uyangoda, 2005: 3). Jayadeva Uyangoda (2005) notes that militarisation has devastating consequences for those communities which are already marginalised and disempowered (see also: Hillyard & Percy-Smith, 1988).

Critiques of Militarisation and Other Relevant Concepts Another important consequence of discussions on militarisation is its underlying preparatory value for concepts discussing demilitarisation and desecuritisation. It assumes an encroachment of the peaceful order by militarism considering a presumed existence of ‘good old’ liberal civilian past one can retreat to. On that note, Howell (2018) discusses racial and gendered relations which for many centuries were influenced and defined by a state’s violence against specific groups of people. Alison Howell (2018) thinks that whenever the process of militarisation is recalled, that creates a space and possibility to call for demilitarisation. Therefore, the underlining assumption is that there is a way to revert to the pre-militarised state. The attractiveness of the

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concept of militarisation, according to Howell (2018), owes to the possibility of emancipation from military intrusion into civilian life. Similarly, in her review of the process of securitisation, Howell sees some instances of police behaviour, like an infamous situation in Ferguson, Missouri where unarmed teenager Michael Brown was shot by a police officer which was a moment of significance to a public recognition of a problem of militarisation of police. Importantly, a more positive form of police and policing to which the state can retreat simply does not exist. It is associated with the fact that policing techniques derived in part from colonial governance (ibid.). One of the great dangers concerning the usage of the concept of militarisation, as observed by Howell (2018), is that this concept can be applied and discussed superficially by contemporary academics. In the context of a hyperproduction of books and articles by scholars working in neo-liberal universities, Howell draws our attention to the fact that researchers might be tempted to reduce their inquiry into that subject by only studying the surface of military aesthetics in the civilian sphere of life which is hopefully not the case with this monograph.

Concluding Remarks As part of this section, concepts of militarism and militarisation were discussed together with some of the definitional difficulties relating to these two concepts. Next, militarisation was remarked on in the context of the development of the state and its educational system. Subsequently, other forms of militarisation were considered. That was supplemented with deliberation on interlinks between police and military in the context of blurring lines between these two. Consequently, the concepts of securitisation and moral panics were considered. Lastly, demilitarisation and some critiques of all the above processes were presented. All of that built a basis for the following discussion on the concept of the militarisation of behaviours.

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5 Elements of the Militarisation of Behaviours

Introduction As part of that chapter, I discuss several interrelated concepts. The militarisation of behaviours rests on the below pillars: 1. Bureaucracy and the Bureaucratic Structure: a. The State as a Substitute Parent including Creating Dependency and Standardisation of Experiences b. Bureaucracy and State’s Violence inclusive of Militant Trade Unionism and Social Machinery, Social Drill (Social Conditioning), Influencing Educational System and Introducing Nationalism 2. Propaganda consists of Daily Indoctrination, Fear-mongering Techniques, Social Differentiation, Dehumanisation, Otherness, Moral Panics, and Promotion of Social Compliance through Social Homogeneity, Indifference, Desensitisation and Disenchantment 3. Suspension in Time and Space (Chronotopes) 4. Military Language and Culture inclusive of Derogatory Language © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3_5

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5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

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The State of Exception and Emergency Legislation Norms and Legal Systems (Soft and Hard Law) Surveillance Professionals and Professionalisation Militarisation of the Public Sphere Normalising the Militarisation of Behaviours

I discuss all elements which can be utilised as part of the employment of the militarisation of behaviours by the state. Each element will be discussed briefly and placed in the context of that process. The above illustrates how multifaceted the process of the militarisation of behaviours is. All of these can become tools of social control used by the state, its agents, but also international entities (business, and/or international organisations of interest or with a specified purpose).

General Comments From a linguistic point of view, when two nouns (the militarisation of behaviours) are combined to describe a process, one can assume that the process will have a more limited scope than a single noun process (militarisation). As in principle, a single noun process should be more generic and more encompassing. Militarisation occurs when a state manages a specific element of the public sphere in a manner analogous to army operations. Whereas the militarisation of behaviours relates to a process utilised by the state when its citizens are treated by that state in a manner resembling the handling of soldiers by an army. It is an overarching mass process combining several known social techniques and tools employed by the state to regulate social behaviours. All those techniques and tools act as intermediaries and a means to enforce this process in a society. The militarisation of behaviours is used when those in power are increasing a level of control over the population due to an unsupported feeling of not attaining enough control or to evoke a lost control over the population. It might be employed as a response to the state’s problems (within or outside of that state), or perhaps, in the light of an intraor inter-state conflict. However, the conflict might be an imaginary one,

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as a threat of conflict might be beneficial to state officials. Those officials might use it as an opportunity to persuade people of a need to take action in a direction which militarises behaviours (or at least employs the process of securitisation or militarisation). In most cases, it is hard to notice the militarisation of behaviours. Those subjected to that process will most likely not give it any consideration, and the state officials would refrain from informing the public of its full employment. On that note, the intensity and disturbance created by the militarisation of behaviours are important, as those decision-makers who have seen effects and a real-world application of militarisation can be very much persuaded (and tempted) to employ this technique of social control once more (and then every time they feel like having any matter solved). It is a truism that the military can be brutally effective, nonetheless, such effectiveness is achieved without giving any consideration to the fragility of social relations. Likewise, that process exploits the permeation of the civilian sphere by the military one. It must be emphasised that the militarisation of behaviours can be successfully implemented without the enforcement of all the below elements. An application of some of these elements might suffice for the militarisation of behaviours’ primary goal—to subdue most of a specific society. As we can see from the Figs. 5.1 and 5.2, the militarisation of behaviours is intricate and complex, and it rests on several interrelated social processes and tools. All of those will be discussed below.

Bureaucracy and the Bureaucratic Structure The first part of the militarisation of behaviours discussed here relates to tools and techniques branded collectively under an umbrella of bureaucracy and the bureaucratic structure. It consists of the concept of the state as a substitute parent discussed together with dependency and standardisation of experiences; and structured violence and coercion (social machinery) which includes topics of military trade unionism, social drill (social conditioning), influences on the educational system, and nationalism.

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The Militarisation of Behaviours consists of processes relating to: Creating Dependency

The State as a Substitute Parent Bureaucracy and the Bureaucratic Structure

Standardisation of Experiences Militant Trade Unionism and Social Machinery

Bureaucracy and State’s Violence Daily Indoctrination Fear-mongering Techniques

Social Drill (Social Conditioning) Influencing Educational System Introducing Nationalism

Social Differentiation Propaganda

Dehumanisation

Suspension in Time and Space (Chronotopes)

Otherness Social Homogeneity Moral Panics

Military Language and Culture The State of Exception and Emergency Legislation

Promotion of Social Compliance through Inclusive of Derogatory Language

Norms and Legal Systems (Soft and Hard Law) Surveillance Professionals and Professionalisation Militarisation of Public Sphere Normalising the Militarisation of Behaviours

Fig. 5.1 The process of the militarisation of behaviours

Indifference Desensitisation Disenchantment

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The Militarisation of Behaviours pursues: Uniformity (Homogenisation) of Behaviours (and Experiences) Developing of Coping Mechanisms and Social Compliance Dependency on the State and Its Institutions Incorporation of Obedience as Part of the Daily Tasks

Complete Obedience

Fig. 5.2 The aims of the militarisation of behaviours

The State as a Substitute Parent (The Institutional Substitute for Parents) To control its society, the state can create mechanisms of dependency which relate to subordination or reliance on others (Scott & Marshall, 2009). When it comes to acceptance of state decisions, the time of exposure is of the essence. Similarly, to Weinberg’s (1946) point on dependency and habituation created by a prolonged length of time, Hollingshead (1946) comments on the creation of dependency on the state and its activity. In a broad sense, as part of the social circle of life, a child makes efforts to break the bonds of dependency and become sovereign and autonomous of their parents. Whereas, contrary to most children, the state encourages soldiers to stay dependent on its institutions (ibid.). As part of the process, the training reduces adults to infancy.

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A result of that is a structural dependency of the army, where the army becomes a substitute parent to its soldiers. Price (2017) in the context of British law uses the term a corporate parent (which would not be used here to avoid confusion due to specific definitional differences). By keeping oneself in an infantile-like state with the help of psychological and institutional devices, the army subordinates a person. As a result, they become vulnerable and need help from that army. Hollingshead (1946) highlights that the primary tool used by the army in achieving the above is to organise a soldier’s life both overtly and covertly. The above argument can be extended to an assumed passivity of people living in a state. Through the creation of the dependency on the state (the state as a substitute parent ), a person must be provided with goods and effectively be looked after. In employing that attitude, that state is standardising behaviours in public spaces (standardised work, pay conditions, and available goods)1 which is a form of militarisation of the public sphere. The above is very much connected with observations made by Hollingshead (1946). Using the Freudian framework, he asserts in relation to the role of the group in a formation of a collective identity (a military-superego), that collective identity can become a substitute for the Self (ego). The feeling of comradery relates to the service and honour (also induced in soldiers by that service)—similarly to the soldier-symbol attitude discussed previously. Military leaders cultivate and glorify that impression of self-sacrifice for the sake of the nation. An inducement of the military-superego, according to Hollingshead, leads to the incorporation of the soldier’s identity and forgetting of one’s identity as a citizen. The above can be compared with the militarisation of behaviours, and incorporation of the common attitude of citizen-soldier discussed earlier. Nonetheless, the downside of this transition is the development of an aggressive disposition towards civilians. Thus, it is hard to readapt such disposition during the readjustment from military to civilian life. For Hollingshead, that attitude is never lost and resurfaces in the form of a mental barrier for military veterans to come to accept their obligations as 1

Deleuze (1992) notes that people who are subjected to mass supervision are ‘dividuals’ not individuals where a response to their action is standardised based on their classification as having certain features and representing parts of samples, data, or markets.

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citizens. In other words, the attitude and feeling of commonality, which is very much needed on a battlefield are also responsible for disturbances during and after the transition back into civilian life. That said, once a person is effectively subdued to the militarisation of behaviours, that person would have great difficulty readjusting when circumstances change. This is one of the reasons why those subdued to that process support nationalistic and populistic movements in democratic circumstances when old regimes employing the militarisation of behaviours are gone. Then and there, firstly, no one offers them a proper transition into a new reality. Secondly, in the absence of that transition, old behaviours take over. Besides, once a state can exercise its parenthood over its population, it can further employ other social processes, including those of social control. The militarisation of behaviours can be viewed considering Hedetoft’s (1993) argument relying on the existence of national war and civic mentality (which are opposing sides of the same spectrum). Using that framework, the militarisation of behaviours is a structured process designed and employed to alter citizens’ attitudes from the civic side of the spectrum to the war side of it. The latter relates to ‘the mentality of war’ which is not only present during war times. For example, the British war mentality (which appreciates national togetherness) is associated with specific historical characteristics embedded in the culture as an aftermath of WWII and can be sparked by war or other significant conflicts (ibid.). The militarisation of behaviours occurs when the state is imposing on its citizens’ behaviours, which would pacify their independence and integrity. Most people respond to that by somewhat adhering to the situation (with or without hesitation and/or resentment) to preserve oneself in the light of the overarching power enforcing those behaviours on these people. The state and its officials might be tempted to utilise militarisation as a specific operation against insurgents and a war tactic (Uyangoda, 2005) in light of any conflict (even a non-existent one like a war on drugs). The only downside of the militarisation of behaviours for the state is that once that tactic is employed, it triggers a social response and any state employing the militarisation of behaviours should prepare itself for such consequences.

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Bureaucracy and the State’s Violence One of the ways for the state to prepare itself for any social repercussions triggered by the militarisation of behaviours is an operational bureaucracy which is a necessary tool for the practical implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. Bureaucracy is a highly complexed and developed social system organised around specific goals supported by a group of people (Johnson, 1995), and it was coined by Max Weber (1978). In its ideal type, bureaucracy consists of (1) a clear division of labour, (2) a hierarchical structure of authority, (3) a particular body of rules, (4) a separation between public and private, and (5) longevity of one’s employment within that organisational structure. Bureaucracy operates in the name of a specific nation or more precisely a specific state and carries out tasks commissioned by that state (or its agents). Guillermo A. O’Donnell (1988) emphasises the nation denotes an arch of solidarity that postulates homogenous (we) distinctive from other nations (they). The same author treats the state’s boundaries as margins for that national solidarity, which is contrary to Benedict Anderson’s (1991) findings relating to imagined communities and nationalism. Nonetheless, O’Donnell (1988) sees territoriality as a vital element of the state’s ability to control its citizens via means of coercion, as the state is a guarantor of the control and power within its boundaries. Green and Ward (2009) note two points on state violence, firstly on the bureaucratic violence (O’Donnell, 1988; Rodriguez, 2008), which is associated with rational planning with an explicit allocation of time, tasks, and actions; the second symbolic aspects of it relates to the way emotional and irrational ways forces are exercised. Examples of the former relate to the Stanford Prison Experiment (Zimbardo, 2008; Zimbardo et al., 1971); the Behavioural Study of Obedience by Stanley Milgram (1963); an unofficial obedience experiment carried out in the Cubberley High School in Palo Alto, California, United States, by a newly appointed history teacher, Ron Jones, which become known as The Third Wave (Jones, 1967; Jeffery & Neel, 2010); and contemporary examples of torture in Guantanamo. The latter is about how specific historical events unfolded; however, even in those situations,

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both approaches (emotional and rational) can be attributed to bureaucracy. In the context of bureaucratic control, Green and Ward (2009) remind us that state violence consists of both of those elements (when the state or its agents exert control over some area of the state’s activity and induces emotional response in those on whom it is exerted), as otherwise, it would not be referred to as state violence.2 Due to the long-term orientation of states and their agencies, states focus on delivering their agenda (in principle) in an emotionless manner. It is mostly done through a delegation of tasks to people on a lower level of that organisation. Such a delegation is partly responsible for the emotional detachedness from the initial decision, which might have been motivated by passion or eliciting emotions in the first place. For Green and Ward (2009), this argument is hard to sustain when this discussion moves into a pre-war, war, and post-war period. Thus, over the years vengeance and retribution acted as great factors influencing decisions to initiate conflicts with other states. Interestingly, in a similar context of overwhelming state interference in peoples’ matters, Nicos Poulantzas (1978: 203–204) uses suggestively a term called authoritarian statism. It entails strengthening the state control over and curtailment of all aspects of life which are supported by the considerable weakening of institutions of political democracy. In general, statism is a political system with the state having substantial and centralised control over social and economic affairs. According to Coleman et al. (2009), authoritarian statism resembled a relentless state’s attempts to mobilise around the criminalisation and control of certain social groups identified by that state for a specific reason. One can assume that conscription can be part of that process, as much as it can be used by a substitute parent in the context of the militarisation of behaviours. Zygmunt Bauman using Herbert C. Kelman’s (1973: 29–61, cited in Bauman, 2008: 21) framework of the state’s bureaucratic violence reminds us that only three conditions will have to meet collectively for that violence to occur. Firstly, violence must be authorised by the state’s officials (from a legally nominated entity). Secondly, actions must

2 Communists in Poland believed that the state is an instrument of violence (Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005).

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be routinised (based on practices and roles designed by the state’s officials). Finally, victims of violence must be dehumanised through means of ideological definitions and indoctrinations (the process of dehumanisation of people is discussed here separately). Bauman shows that the first two conditions are very familiar to most people and recognised as basic conditions necessary for a smooth operation of the bureaucratic machine. In his work, Bauman also describes the willingness and creativity of the bureaucratic employees (or using Weber’s [1978] term ‘bureaucratic administrative staff ’). Due to the way the administration is arranged, the bureaucratic staff has a propensity to overdo, and over-regulate the prescribed duties which are assigned to them (especially, if political forces assign these). Bureaucratic structures respond naturally in that manner to most tasks. It is a way to confirm the loyalty of bureaucrats (in accordance with the occupied hierarchy) and to self-praise a high performance of their work. In the context of democratic states and Argentina of the 1960s and 1970s, Guillermo O’Donnell (1988) signalises how effective bureaucratic structure is while responding to a perceived source of a threat by its own persistent and drastic measures. It can occur whenever the state struggles with an economic crisis or other crises (namely, the crisis of government, the regime, the expansion of the political arena, accumulation, or crisis of domination), and when feelings of increasing social and economic disorder are evident in the society. That might pressure the society to call for more pronounced means of restoring the ‘order’. Those are favourable conditions to emerge what O’Donnell calls bureaucratic authoritarianism. It is a highly oligopolistic structure led by a privileged group of people who would subordinate to the state by imposing strict control of the economy and public sphere, reversing any attempt to establish autonomies, and imposing restrictions on any forms of free expression in the public sphere. One of the main features that supposedly differentiates bureaucratic authoritarianism from other expressions of authoritarianism is its attempts to depoliticise the handling of social issues via means of bureaucratic objectivity and neutrality, which are supposedly based on technical rationality.

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Green and Ward (2009) strongly argue that state violence, in conjunction with bureaucratic arrangements creates inherently unstable conditions. Moreover, state violence is associated with sanctions to achieve the state’s goals via specific means. The state’s organisation is explicitly based on the state’s normative system (legal rules and ‘states of exception’ when those rules are broken). The legitimacy of the state’s actions will result in the struggle between its goals and the means to achieve them. Whereas the illegitimacy of the state’s actions will lead straight into secrecy3 and impunity (of state’s agents) and contribute to a lack of control over that state and its matters. Green and Ward (2009) relate to police violence in a manner resembling Goffman’s (1990) theory of backstage activities, especially when armies and businesses utilise Goffman’s strategic secrets against their opponents. Here, violence accommodates accomplishing tasks in a manner not sanctioned by the state’s normative system. Those violent activities of the police (or in other words, state agents) are not sanctioned, and cannot be displayed in the public sphere as the police would lose their effectiveness and the veil of state’s support. Nonetheless, those activities are covered by the backstage familiarity of roles and activities, where the front decorum is dropped, and behind the scenes, activities allow for a more flexible approach to problems displayed in the front stage (including delivering solutions to these problems).

Militant Trade Unionism and Social Machinery Militant trade unionism can act as a proxy concept to understand ways in which states and governments utilise the militarisation of behaviours (which resembles trade union processes) to achieve their own goals. Trade unionism is defined as a collective act of wage earners to protect and improve their working conditions (at work and home) (Allen, 1972). The practicability of the concept and its applications regarding research has been discussed by Donald Clark Hodges (1961). For Hodges, the

3 Such a mode of secrecy and suspicion can be initiated in democracies like that in Sweden (Ericson & Wester, 2022). Ericson and Wester talk about the Swedish openness and transparency which is fading away over time and how it is gradually replaced with secrecy.

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First World War marks a decline in militancy in the labour movement. Militancy relates to totalitarian tendencies and one’s inclination to participate in oppositional rhetoric or action (Soanes et al., 2006). The theoretical assumption drawn from that concept might be transplanted onto the social behaviours of people exposed to the militarisation of behaviours. In the framework of the PPR, militant unionism was embedded into the underlying assumptions of the socialistic republic in the sense that both relate in some way to syndicalism (a movement or ideology promoting workers’ control using common workplaces [ibid.]); or, to an introduction of a predominance of workers in decision-making processes related to the economy, state, and politics. As maintained by Hodges (1961), syndicalism relies on certain forms of violence. Thus, it can be assumed that syndicalism and its reflections in military unionism would be somewhat mirrored by the PPR state, which has seen its roots in labour movements. It does not preclude the usage of its principles in other non-socialist settings. In the framework of trade unionism, according to Allen (1972) militancy has become recognised as a good trade union practice. Militancy refers to methods and achievement (and not so much to aims), and its employment can be considered during strikes, warfare, aggression, and combat. As in principle, trade unionists are fighting for the improvement of conditions for themselves and those whom they represent. As such, a militaristic metaphor seems to be adequately applied by unionists to their roles and actions. Relating to the application of the militarisation of behaviours, the state can utilise two-tier militant unionism techniques. The first one resembles the way trade unionists treat their members ensuring control over them to reach unions’ goals and to improve the situation of its members over time in terms of pay, benefits, and working conditions. Based on that, the state can claim to do the same in trying to improve the conditions of its citizens but needs to retain control over these same people to achieve that goal. The second one rests on the state’s ability to act in relation to trade unions’ activities and to approach them as groups of people with at least one commonality. These techniques can be extended and used in a different context by the state with some additional actions imposed by people themselves, as these people might start to police themselves as

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much as others which is very much visible in the autocratic and, even more so, in totalitarian states. Most societies (if not all) no matter their advancement have a binding force which Bronislaw Malinowski (1970) calls social machinery. It is a form of mutual dependence which occurs due to “the equivalent rearrangement of reciprocal services, as well as in the combination of such claims into strands of multiple relationships” (ibid.: 55). Such mutual dependence relates to positive laws (civil law) governing social relations. In its basic form, these positive laws consist of a set of bidding rules and obligations (one’s right relating to someone else’s obligation) which are an integral part of the social tissue and structure of any society. These relations are not precluding some forms of aberrations. James Windle (2016) highlights the possibility of the existence of what he refers to in the Vietnamese context as coercive negotiations run by the military. These occur in a non-reciprocal manner as means of drug control while negotiated eradications are underway and opium farmers are forced as part of the rural development assistance to grow alternative and legal crops. This one-sided process described by Windle as a relative purity forces those farmers to restructure and organise alternative livelihoods, with some help from the state imposing that process. These actions (which are forms of securitisation) are a more humane military approach to a matter or problem at hand. Then, securitisation requires the cooperation of all parties involved in the process of an issue solving, even though only one side of the talks is proposing a specific change or intervention. The army acts as an intermediary for sending the message and delivering results for the state to extend its authority over a certain population in relation to specific issues (ibid.). This method is combining the soft (law) approach (or a negotiation process) with military strength and authority. Here, securitisation might be considered as a pre-step in changing social behaviours. Thus, coercion as a form of social control is “not a prerequisite of securitization: the breaking of norms of behaviour is enough” (Buzan et al., 1998: 351).

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Social Drill (Social Conditioning), Educational System, and Nationalism The state can employ structured violence and coercion to perform on its citizens what we will call here the social drill , which is a prominent element of the process of the militarisation of behaviours. According to the author, the social drill is a process resembling a military drill. It is performed in a public sphere and on people within a state employing the militarisation of behaviours. The rigidness that comes with the social drill suffocates independent thinking, independence, and personal agency. This process is subjecting people to overarching modes of behaviour and results in conditioning people to accept that the state can exercise power towards them. The only way to get the least obtrusive treatment is to adhere to it, and as a result, obey the state and its orders. It is one of the state’s coercive techniques. Coercion and normalisation of state’s coercion in its different forms and circumstances have been discussed in the last few decades on topics revolving around (but not limited to) sanity (Foucault, 1997; Goffman, 1963), people on parole (McCleary, 1978), or prisoners (Bean, 1983; Foucault, 1982; Garland, 1987). Here, the militarisation of behaviours (which relates to treatment obtained by citizens) taps into Garland’s (2002) culture of control . This process, in brief, rests on some political and cultural adaptations and the combination of three elements of responsibilisation, new managerialism, and an adaptation to failure incorporated into the criminal justice system, especially in the United Kingdom and United States (Garland, 2002; Walklate, 2009). Similarly, social control , according to Donald Black (1983), refers to a process by which people define or counter a deviant behaviour. Examples of that would be in the form of various conduct, like a scowl, reprimand, (constructive) dismissal, an arrest or lawsuit, committal to a mental hospital (see: ‘Coercive Confinement’), a riot, or a military reprisal. Most of the conduct, in Black’s view, referred to as crime is in the form of punishment or another expression of condemnation. It can be perceived when people defy the law on the grounds of a specific principle that they support (ibid.). All those are imposed to ascertain social discipline.

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Of relevance is Foucault’s concept of subjectification.4 Subjectification relates to the process of the production of the subject or ‘practices of subjectivation’ (Foucault, 2005). In that situation, the body is an instrument or intermediary of punishment. Thus, for Foucault, the power exercised on the body is conceived as a strategy employed by the state in a network of social relations. In these conditions, “power relations have an immediate hold upon it [the body]; they [the state] invest it, mark it, train it, torture it, force it to carry out tasks, to perform ceremonies, to emit signs. … the body becomes a useful force only if it is both a productive body and a subjected body” (ibid.: 25). Thus, the body becomes seized by the state. Moreover, the militarisation of behaviours is relevant in the context of that discussion as it also removes the power of self-determination over one’s body, using Foucault’s language, by coding the ‘lack of power’ (ibid.: 29) onto those bodies. On that token, discipline connects army behaviours with the militarisation of behaviours in civilian life. According to Rose (1946), whenever a discipline (in general and in following up orders) amongst the higher officers is enforced poorly, it has a detrimental effect on the army or civilian morale—whichever is the case. Sometimes, the army officers, in their view, are those to whom the rules and regulations do not apply. If that is the case, adhering to the overall duty, rules, and discipline of enlisted men will be affected. Following those who are corrupted is a bit harder than following those who are not. The same goes for civilian life when civilian leaders see themselves as better than others; it is hard to align with them. Therefore, one can assume that more senior personnel might be more susceptible to consider themselves of a better category.

4

The post-war Poland might have acted as an unexpected inspiration for Michel Foucault. Foucault lived in Communist Poland for several months. He arrived in October 1958 and was appointed the first director of the Centre for French Culture and Francophone Studies at University of Warsaw. While staying in Warsaw, Foucault finished writing his Ph.D. which was later translated into English as Madness and Civilisation: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason. There is evidence in his correspondence that he might have been inspired by the Communist reality while working on his Ph.D. thesis (Ryzi´nski, 2017) especially in terms of the level of social control, control of the body, and sexuality. Sometime in the middle of 1959, he was forced to leave by the Communist government. He briefly visited Communist Poland at least one more time on the 22nd of September 1982 while delivering humanitarian aid when martial law was still in place in PPR (ibid.).

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Similarly, these same people would have a greater sense of entitlement and privilege. When one follows that line of thinking even further, it becomes clear that the next matter which has a high possibility of occurring is nepotism. Nepotism within the army structure (which is associated with its social structure) has a detrimental effect on the morale in the army. Rose (1946) describes an instance of a possible outcome of such a situation when the officers (or those more senior in army structures) are actively promoting their subordinates only based on their willingness to obey orders (and nothing else in terms of their behaviour) and the length of their service. The same can be ascertained about civilian bureaucratic structures. The institutional system of rewards and punishments shapes officials to be like that, and over time, those who are exposed to these rules come to accept them (ibid.). Moreover, an acceptance of one’s situation is one of the basic premises of the militarisation of behaviours, and social drill utilises it effectively. There is a striking resemblance between social drill and education. Both rely on the repetition of tasks and their memorisation (i.e., as part of the education process). In the context of the third-level education in Poland, it meant that there was a residue in the way knowledge was provided to and consumed by students on all levels with memorisation as a default mode of studying. To an extent, a heavy emphasis on memorisation of dates and facts can facilitate a lack of employment of critical thinking skills while studying. Thus, forcing a person to act uncritically is a vital element of the social drill. As already discussed in the context of soldier-symbol and citizensoldier, symbolic representations have a vital role to play in creating certain perceptions in societies. The same can be said in the context of social drill and the militarisation of behaviours. Building on the Bakhtinian (Bakhtin, 1981) view of the specific symbols (figures of speech), one can assume that the state and its citizens become while incorporating social drill and the militarisation of behaviours, subjected to an overarching and overwhelming rule of the symbolic militant which is merely a state (and its agents) (Bemong et al., 2010; Hertzler, 1953). That terminology bears a resemblance to Gramsci’s concept of the state as a policeman (Coleman, 2009: 8; Gramsci, 1985: 262). That symbolic

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militant is a narrator dividing order between different people. In that way, the state becomes a symbolic figure; and in those conditions, the state is responsible for taking over one’s life (by giving orders, and on a virtue that these orders are adhered to by citizens). That relates to the already discussed concept of the state as a substitute parent; and as noted by Mariana Valverde (2015), this relates to an archetypical interpretation of a father figure—the Roman paterfamilias. Paterfamilias (the head of a family) was a person who was important for family relations in time and space (spatiotemporally), and symbolically, it also matches the Bakhtinian view of the state. To Bakhtin (1981), a position of the state (and its actions through its agents) is initiated within a specific moment and space (chronotope) when a particular value is assigned to actions of that state (and effectively assumed reactions to it by the citizen or group of citizens). This view is supported by an analogy between the household and the state by Markus Dubber (2005 cited by Valverde, 2015: 15) and how in Roman times, paterfamilias through their households and public roles were able to influence family and public law. The paterfamilias achieved that by interacting in and affecting both spheres (household and public sphere). Overall, the state as a figure of speech, or Bakhtinian stock character (ibid.: 15), is encapsulating the collective actions of all so-called agents of the state (i.e., people in power or who are exercising that power). In practical terms, and within the context of the PPR, the state took over the role of a parent figure and controlled the lives of the Polish people by its often, intensive, and direct interventions. Moreover, the symbolic militant can employ (when utilising militarisation of urban marginalities, rather than the militarisation of behaviours) an aggressive law enforcement strategy (Wacquant, 2008) which is a form of coercion using enforcement agencies combined with a legal system. That social control technique leads to a situation which is “indistinguishable from a military incursion into occupied territory in their tactics and effects” (ibid.: 66). In other words, when combined with military tactics and warlike destructiveness, according to Wacquant, it leads to penal penetration. That is a combination of aggressive policing with tough sentencing (employment of criminal law and criminal justice system) and a social displacement by sending those targeted to distant prisons (ibid.)

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to exercise social control more effectively. An example of the above is the state displaying its powers in Northern Ireland. To provide some authentication of the high level of crime, the state resorted to putting on a play in a theatre of crime control (Goffman, 1990). That was performed by a disciplined and armed police force ready to defend the population (Mulcahy, 2002). To place it in a broader context, initially penal practices were seizing the body in the ritual of public politics. Later, states and their representatives started to move away from the ritual of public torture and execution towards punishment of the soul (Foucault, 2005). Actions of police and the state related to the symbolic and social cauterisation (Philip Elliott, 1976 cited in O’Mahony, 2002: 413) of those who are a threat to the state or community. Social cauterisation (a removal of sections of communities or societies in an abrupt manner) relies heavily on symbols and symbolic values of actions and combines these with elements of the process of dehumanisation (Goffman, 1990). The criminal justice system in the Global North is heading in two different directions. Firstly, it is moving away from the theatricalisation (Szakolczai, 2015) of the spectacle of punishment towards the spectacle of the courtroom interactions. Secondly, the largely defunct spectacle of punishment (Foucault, 1982) is also replaced by the pre-punishment (Smilansky, 1994) spectacle organised by a securitised police force. It has a retributive character even before the judgement and punishment are enforced which undermines the presumption of innocence. The show-off of the police strength has an element of deterrence and can act as a form of moral restitution for any potential victims as the state is putting a lot of its resources into that demonstration of its strength. O’Mahony (2002) specified that at the same time, the reasons why these resources are used in this way and violence happens should not be questioned and the public can focus on the symbols of that state mobilisation. Such displays of power “involve a knowing and cynical manipulation of the symbols of state power and of the emotions of fear and insecurity which give these symbols their potency” (Garland, 1996: 460). Nationalism is another effective instrument of social control. Insook Kwon (2005) sees nationalism, censorship, and specific constraints and

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controls over the educational system as closely linked with coercive assimilation which is based on a harsh and burdensome treatment by the state of its people for nonconformity; and which acts as foundations laid for establishing a national consent. Insook observes (similarly to the Dutch approach discussed already) that the South Korean president and dictator, Park Chung-hee, during the 1960s and 1970s used strong nationalistic feelings to introduce the concept of a patriotic warrior or industrial soldiers (sanop chonsa). Therefore, it is an idea of blending working people with the reliance and subservience of soldiers which resembles a social drill. In other words, it was an imposition of an ideal coupled with soldiers’ diligence (with a bit of modesty), flexibility, and devotion to the persistence of labour workers. That, combined with a communal sense of shared responsibility for the Korean state of the matters, created a strong impression that everyone must sacrifice themselves for the good of the state and others within it. Such an approach can be encompassed in portraying work as a type of war and construction fields as combat fields, like in the South Korean example of the 1960s (ibid.). Thus, in terms of the above, the militarisation of behaviours was very clearly utilised, and it was responsible for ‘saving’ an entire nation from foreign influences. Whoever employs the process of the militarisation of behaviours can do that alongside several other techniques with the help of social and administrative structures (as mentioned already). The role of the bureaucracy and bureaucratic machine does not stop here. It is utilised as a part of other efforts relating to the militarisation of behaviours. Consequently, those play a crucial role; nonetheless, less emphasis will be placed below on highlighting that fact.

Propaganda The second collection of social tools as part of the militarisation of behaviours is discussed as part of the process of the state’s propaganda. It consists of daily indoctrination, fear-mongering techniques, social differentiation, the process of dehumanisation, the concept of otherness, moral

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panics (discussed separately), and finally, promotion of social compliance through indifference, desensitisation, and social disenchantment. Considering social machinery, as indicated by Terence H. Qualter (1985), the most significant concern to liberal democracies is their inherent stresses taking place internally within them, as such public opinion is often responsible for generating favourable conditions in which those stresses can arise more easily and facilitate social instability. In Qualter’s view, opinions alter expressions of one’s deeper characteristics, temperaments, or attitudes which are organised into relatively stable clusters. Alterations of public attitudes and expressions occur through means of propaganda. Propaganda is a conscious effort to manipulate attitudes and opinions (ibid.). It is of importance, as these tend to guide people’s behaviours. It can also be treated as behavioural (re)training. That said, it becomes clearer why states want to be in control of the (collective) opinions of their people. The militarisation of behaviours as a process utilises, whenever it is beneficial to the state, opinion control mechanisms. Frederic Bastiat (1998) over 150 years ago mentioned that the single greatest threat to one’s liberty is the government (or the state). In the PPR, the postwar Polish Communist government wanted to silence any alternative narratives developed against the newly established state’s ideology. One of the tools developed for that purpose was the act on the defence of peace enacted on the 22nd of December 1950 (Dz.U. Nr 58, poz. 521). Gardocki (2015) notes that it envisaged punishments for (alternative) war propaganda as a crime against peace. State officials wanted to control narratives and create coherent messages for the people. Whereas, in Ireland for the same reasons, the state developed and maintained tools of social control in a form of censorship over publications and film (see: ‘Censorship’). Qualter (1985) makes it clear that the most oppressive regimes have to preserve some manifestations of popular support. It must exist at any cost, and as such, if it is not present in a society (in ideal circumstances it should arise spontaneously), it needs to be created. Social support, as argued by Qualter, is a source of authority for states and rulers. Attitudes which are expressions of thinking and feeling (Soanes et al., 2006) shape and are shaped by social and cultural traditions, social institutions, and

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social normativity (Qualter, 1985). Those can be in the form of socially inherited traditional assumptions about the nature of the world and the role which societies occupy in it. Those traditional assumptions are part of the social fabric, which is not looked at daily, and as such, those stay mostly unnoticed. Likewise, social culture is a pervasive component of our daily lives, and people tend to unconsciously conform to these values and norms embodied by that social culture. Equally, those cultural values are responsible for a level of societal conformity. Conformity is a potent social regulator (of attitudes), as a low level of cognisance in popular consciousness is associated with it. Analogues are people’s propensity to adhere to a predominant social normative system (ibid.). Conformity can often incite more from a person than is required (Brotz & Wilson, 1946). Alexandre Flückiger (2009) calls it a phenomenon of social conformity. It is associated with a feeling of fear, which triggers complacency associated with peace of mind when people prefer pleasure over any form of discomfort. Nonetheless, social conformity can also be motivated by a process referred to by Flückiger as identification, which is a level of pride and joy associated with, or desire for recognition for one’s conformity to social rules. Alternatively, one might be motivated to conform to avoidance of social disapproval (Qualter, 1985). Conformity is also a necessary element of on-the-ground group control. It relates to the fact that people collectively when grouped, are prone to rash actions. A group atmosphere can be influenced and reinforced by “mass symbols like uniforms, martial music and rituals” (Qualter, 1985: 92). For example, that can be the case with the army wave, during which everyone as a part of the bonding experience, goes to the extremes of the newbies’ conformity (Brotz & Wilson, 1946). By controlling its power, the crowd can also desensitise people to a feeling of panic. Interestingly in the context of our reflections on the militarisation of behaviours, Qualter (1985) compares that crowd’s ability to self-maintain to a disciplined body of soldiers. Consequentially, such a grouping of concentrated people has the potential to influence those on-the-ground situations. Whereas those who can control that crowd through mentioned symbolic and other means (the militarisation of behaviours and propaganda) maintain control of the overall situation.

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Correspondingly, in my view, those controlling the crowd can also use those moments of a deep and lasting collective connection within that crowd to instil values and attitudes (which can be triggered even when people are outside of that crowd). Then, as a result, those instilled values and attitudes can influence public opinion in a premeditated manner via means of mass media, by effectively contextualising the crowd’s behaviour. A crucial element of that is daily indoctrination.

Daily Indoctrination—Turbo’s Dorosłe Dzieci Indoctrination, for the author, is a process of knowledge production and distribution which is controlled by the state (or other entity) and which is persuading people about how effective and positive outcomes of the state’s actions are. To exemplify the process of indoctrination as seen in the Polish People’s Republic (PPR) is it worth reverting to a specific Polish song that captured the essence and social conditions surrounding indoctrination. It is especially interesting considering the already discussed role of state parenthood. This song was created by the band Turbo, and it is called Dorosłe Dzieci (English: Grown-up Children) (Kupczyk, 1983). It is a story, or more precisely a protest song, of a generation of people who grew up during the 1960s and 1970s. Those people found themselves entrapped in the misery of the reality of the 1980s. The song was written in 1982 during the martial law imposed by the Military Government on the 13th of December 1981 and lasted up until the 22nd of July 1983. It is a vivid example of a song that managed to be accepted, or at least not opposed by, the censorship of the Polish People’s Republic in the early days after being aired officially. Dorosłe Dzieci offers an easy-to-grasp description of the social processes of indoctrination and political influence over most parts of social and private life in the years before 1982. It exemplifies the misery of anyone subjected to the overwhelming influence of the political and ideological power of that time. It was written in the form of successive descriptions of how the nation was taken over by the ruling party (controlled by the outside state, the USSR) and how that state was intervening in everyone’s private life. The song starts with a statement on how

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in schools everyone was taught definitions and dates relevant to the PPR. The author of Dorosle Dzieci, Andrzej Kupczyk (1983), refers to the idea of the school as a place of indoctrination. On that level, indoctrination was to offer one and only one opportunity to learn ‘the facts’ (specific relevant facts framed in a specific way). In the latter part of that track, the author is calling everyone to make, at least, an attempt to resist the back-then situation. The song ends with a sort of a promise that if resistance occurs, the situation might improve. That is captured by the two lines: “[a]nd when the rules of this game change | Maybe we will finally discover how to live” (ibid.: n.p.). Thus, as exemplified above, indoctrination was an ever-present process employed by the state which was imposed on everyone. In most cases in Communist Poland, the office of the censor was imposing indoctrination. Censorship can but does not have to be part of the militarisation of behaviours. In the context of experiences of communist satellite, states claimed that it was an indispensable element of the state’s control apparatus. Nonetheless, in other cases, like Ireland, states instead focus on maintaining control over and limiting access to information. As those can be harmful to any state, but those can also be helpful to the state’s enemies (other states, international, or internal organisations). That information might have a detrimental effect on state officials. In addition, the state, through its agencies and officials, can utilise some of the social processes like rumours, or other forms of retaining social cohesion. Therefore, in summary, censoring is one of the useful tools of social control but does not constitute an indispensable element of the militarisation of behaviours.

Fear-Mongering Another tool in the arsenal of propaganda is fear-mongering. As already indicated, fear is one of the strongest feelings induced by the state. Fear can make people adhere to social and legal rules. Conversely, fear is a robust social tool used to frighten people in order for them to refrain from specific actions. It is a powerful tool creating a differentiation within and between societies. The militarisation of behaviours is

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responsible for instilling fear into the public sphere. Associated with an inducement of fear is the concept of moral panics (discusses in a separate section). It is worth empathising that, moral panics are also utilised by non-state actors, the so-called moral entrepreneurs (Becker, 1973). Henry (2007) reminds us that the state is not the only entity that uses moral panics to influence social conditions (including a social or state’s normative system). Nonetheless, when it comes to states, these might for their purposes create conditions resembling war conditions or a threat of a possible inter-state conflict (war) which will induce a feeling of fear amongst its population. A rationale for such action might be, as stated by Coleman et al. (2009), to reconfigure social agendas or even those matters which are covered by these specific agendas. On a side note, moral panics might be used as social control mechanisms over the powerless as part of aggressive criminal control measures.

Social Differentiation, Dehumanisation, and Otherness As part of the militarisation of behaviours, the state can utilise propaganda by one of three similar processes, namely, social differentiation, dehumanisation, and the process of othering. Firstly, social differentiation is another way of governing the state’s populous in my view. A prime example relates to soldiers (and miners like in the case of the PPR) in certain countries. When a soldier offers their service to the state, it is in the form of their (military) duty (a priori duty which activates a posteriori commitment of responsibility of the state towards that person) towards the state which effectively is bounded by its duty towards veterans. Those mutual obligations extended in time and can act as a vehicle of social differentiation. Consequently, the state is obliged to act much more, but also more actively towards veterans (for their service to the state and the nation) than towards any other social group. In my view, social differentiation might be incorporated into a positive material basis (by compensating, gratifying economically, or directly in the form of preferential treatment

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of some social groups over others), negative material basis (by penalising financially, or through other punitive forms), positive ideology (flattering, glorifying, or even worshipping certain groups), or harmful ideology (by the process of othering ). The material social differentiation (both positive and negative) relates to the emergence of professionalisation (of state-, semi-state-, and non-state-based occupations). More broadly, some states, in order to persuade people willingly to conscribe to an army, incorporate a false sense of duty towards the state as part of the educational process (indoctrination) to sacrifice oneself for the nation. Professionalisation is also associated with a portrayal of the state as an entity supporting egalitarianism, while the state is creating an elitist society with extremely limited access of certain groups in society to the decision-making bodies and higher education. In a broad sense, professionalisation is an extension of social control and power by the state into professionals who are either working for that state or are affiliated with it through the state’s authority (and the virtue of the tasks bestowed upon them by that state). I will revert to this concept in the context of normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours. Social differentiation relates to the concept of dehumanisation (Bauman, 2008). For Angela J. Thurstance (2017), dehumanising the enemy is a psychological process by which an enemy is denied humanity by nullifying their human characteristics. Thus, the state presents a lack of these, or the presence of other undesirable attributes as a matter which needs to be fought with, for example, acts of evil, deprivation, vice, and deviancy. It is also a useful tool justifying a continuous engagement of that state in specific conflict with inside and outside enemies having those negative qualities. Organised dehumanising campaigns, propaganda, and rumours facilitate wartime horrors by relying on people’s fears of the unknown and their gullibility (as propagated information will often be accepted as factual) (ibid.). Dehumanising processes were not only present in the communist countries of the USSR and its satellites, but these also occurred, for example, in the United States in the 1950s and related to anticommunist witch hunts. Thurstance (2017) notes that in both cases, states were facilitating activities which damaged the social tissue of communities by creating a sense of distrust amongst people and creating

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narratives which supported such a situation. The process of dehumanising the enemy also relates to the concept of othering. When it comes to the sociological concept of the other (Bauman, 2008; de Beauvoir, 1949; Mead, 1967), which is a person different to the self , an entire array of possibilities opens up to states or any other powerful enough entities. For example, since the nineteenth century, the states using the ideology of nationalism exploited religion by othering people for their political gain. As part of that approach, nationalism was empowering some categories of citizens and disempowering others (Barzilai, 2004: 396). Othering relates to the Foucauldian understanding of societal divisions. Foucault (1982) saw it as a process which is used by states to create a binary differentiation between them and us to maintain the power relations in society, and as a result, to affect social relations. When an individual or a group are othered, everyone else is forced effectively to side with either party. Choosing that side that othered means that some potential privileges might be gained as a result. The state officials can offer some informal concessions, i.e., a life free from the state’s interference. For clarity of this discussion, we can divide otherness into internal and external. An internal process of othering occurs in and relates to people and groups within the state. That connects with the idea of internal enemies identified by the state (as in the case of militarisation of urban marginalities). Whereas when it comes to external othering, the state officials identify adversaries of that state and the nation in the form of foreign nations, nation-states, nation-like social groups, or religious groups. According to Alison Mountz (2009), external othering rests on the idea that one culture is differentiated (so, it would be easier to hate and despise it) and simultaneously one’s own culture is elevated and glorified (as a foundation for a national exaltation on the superiority of that nation, especially towards the one which is othered). The principle of external othering rest on the concept of imagined geographies discussed by Edward Said (2008), and his work on, and critique of, Orientalism. Imagined geographies are connected to Benedict Anderson’s (1991) idea of imagined communities which serves as the basis for a discussion on the emergence and global spread of nationalism. The above are concepts

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and principles that are aligned with the state’s propaganda, but these also strengthen the social compliance of those subjected to the process of othering.

Promoting Social Compliance One of the indispensable elements of the militarisation of behaviours is people’s compliance. Social compliance can be attained using social homogenisation, indifference, desensitisation, and disenchantment. The state would not be able to exercise its power fully without cooperation from some of its citizens. The same account is described by Bauman (2008) where organisations (including states) would not be able to stay in power without exploitation of people and social relations (see also: Durkheim, 1997; Etzioni, 1978; Goffman, 1978; Weber, 1978). To reach some level of social compliance, the state must create fear of whatever or whomever the state decides to make its primary enemy. Then, the state arranges the overall state’s structure to reflect and accommodate those conditions. Insook Kwon (2005) articulated that an element of fear is a necessary one to upkeep a public apprehension and aid confessions obtained through oppression or torture. That is, then, legitimised by the subservient and cooperative judiciary. To ascertain obedience, or at least to create conditions where passive compliance will become a default mode, the state as already mentioned must create a potent and efficient bureaucratic machine as “[t]he doctrine of a totalitarian state fundamentally rejects any limitations of power” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 58). Such a machine must rely on a strong hierarchy (similarly to an army structure) and a clear division of labour. A state’s bureaucracy oversees, amongst other tasks, an instillation into a society of (amongst others) a political culture; as, political culture explains, it legitimises and preserves the state’s institutions, practices, and values; as much as, society’s values, traditions, and myths (Qualter, 1985). One of the ways to ascertain compliance is through social homogenisation.

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Homogeneity and Social Compliance Paradoxically, the same state which uses techniques of social differentiation might be trying to homogenise that same society. One can look for explanations of that situation in the sociology of crime and deviance (Becker, 1973; Czekaj, 2007; Sumner, 1994) which is discussing the rationale for social norms and compliance based on the othering of those who do not conform to societal rules. The social norms rely on people’s conformity to these norms (see: ‘Propaganda’). So, whenever someone is trying to transgress the system, it retaliates to a degree by branding these transgressors as deviant. Homogeneity makes unique things more alike (Soanes et al., 2006). Qualter (1985) warns that too much emphasis is placed on assumed group cohesion, and not enough on interactions between individuals from that group with outside people which unquestionably shape the unity of that group. Moreover, not every member of a society will be equal, and to the same extent, socialised and accepting of the overarching societal values to which they are subjected daily (ibid.). That said, forced homogenisation of society is linked with a process of normalisation of norms bestowed upon its people by the state. The state can achieve social homogeneity by generating a sense of commonality of conditions and possibilities which can be predominately attributed to the sense of a community created around social conditions (or sometimes, rather, a lack of these). Anatoly Lunacharsky, who overlooked the Soviet Ministry of Education. propagated the culture of collectivism which was supposed to make people ready to die for their country and socialism (Ings, 2017). In situations, like in the PPR, where states generate a scarcity of goods, people might be bound together over the similarity of their situations and an apparent lack of access to elementary resources. On those bases, people can relate to one another and be in a position (similarly, to the situation described above) to build a sense of belonging to a group. That same group and its members can exchange a surplus of necessities with others for added goods or services. That on its own produces an economic situation where goods are bartered; and barter is a more direct form of an exchange of goods and social relations, as it requires more consideration and individual

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attention. It is also responsible for more consideration being devoted to acquired goods, and their value is viewed through their potential to be exchanged for something else. Those additional considerations are lost in a monetary uninterrupted capitalist economy operating in conditions of mostly uninterrupted supply and demand for goods and services. Those considerations and commonality of circumstances create the basis for an introduction and maintenance of a certain level of social homogeneity.

Indifference In a sense, the above social processes are also promoting indifference in the way people (subjected to these processes) behave. Similarly, one can claim that indifference is associated with the militarisation of behaviours. Thus, similar behaviour is commonly seen in various nations (namely, Polish and Irish nations). Indifference arises after a long-term inability to make changes in one’s situation combined with a lack of future perspectives. That, then, feeds into social compliance to an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness. As strange as it might sound, indifference acts in accordance with social homogeneity, as it creates a sense of ‘we are in this (misery) together’, even when people collectively feel that they are unable to make a lasting change in the face of the powerful state and its machinery. Both in an army and society, indifference can lead to certain degenerations of these systems. Rose (1946) describes some consequences of such an occurrence. It is when some enlisted soldiers can fulfil the requests of others in the army (similarly to an underground economy). Rose refers to those enlistees “as ‘big time operators’ (BTO’s) or ‘wheels’ (because they get around?)” (ibid.: 363). It is because of their ability to talk on a more human level to other enlisted soldiers in the army’s headquarters. In those instances, by utilising their underground channels, they can bypass the insensibility and indifference of the army system and personnel. BTOs due to their creativity and human approach can source most of the usually privileged items unavailable even to most officers. Over time, BTOs can create an open network of inner operations in the army. That account relates to the situation of the 1980s in the PPR, where a growing

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number of people created similar nets of mutual support. Some of those were directly commissioned or silently backed by the state or its officials. In addition, it is one of the reasons why the militarisation of behaviours was responsible for the emergence of organised crime in Communist Poland (Kaucz, 2016).

Desensitisation and Disenchantment Another way of asserting social compliance is through desensitisation. In a general sense, desensitisation relates to a behavioural therapy employed to overcome phobias or relax oneself while faced with stress factors. In a war context, desensitisation refers in most situations to the loss of valued physical, emotional, or moral senses that a person would like to retain otherwise (Isaac, 2017). Sometimes, an example of emotional desensitisation (as reported by military combatants) is referred to as distancing or numbing where a person is unable to feel either happy or sad. Logan M. Isaac (2017) identified four major groups of people with different degrees of responsibility for (and exposure to) the direct violence of war: (1) civilians and other indigenous non-combatants, (2) charitable agents (humanitarian aid workers), (3) government workers (diplomats and politicians), and (4) combatants no matter the side of the conflict. Similarly, Isaac discusses the possibility of a secondary trauma or compassion fatigue of professionals who are helping people overcome traumatic events to occur. The same can be observed in people who are exposed for prolonged periods to some of the discussed techniques associated with the militarisation of behaviours. It relates to the dehumanisation of people and the discussed treatment of soldiers (or civilians for that matter) as tools. Prolonged emotional desensitisation might lead to disenchantment (which is a disconnect from reality and the social and political situation). It is a form of social numbness or inertia, preventing a person from actively taking part in social life. Disenchantment, together with social homogeneity, desensitisation, and disenchantment, create a platform supporting social compliance.

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Suspension in Time and Space (Chronotopes) While employing the militarisation of behaviours, the state can decide to utilise factors of time and space. That can be done using a chronotope (spacetimes), which is the concept developed by Mikhail Bakhtin (1981) within language and discourse studies. In Bakhtin’s own words, chronotopes are “the intrinsic connectedness of temporal and spatial relationships that are artistically expressed in literature” (ibid.: 84). In a legal context, chronotopes relate to condensation in time and space when both are becoming denser and as a result, affect social norms (Valverde, 2015). Chronotopes are important in the context of our consideration of a suspension in time and space which is recognised and shared by at least three specific social groups: jurors (in short-term), postgraduate students (in short- and medium-term), and prisoners (in short-, medium- and long-term). Such suspensions are a common denominator of the (criminal) justice system, third-level education system, and the prison system (precisely an incarceration element of it). Huxley (2009) makes an interesting point that in a world in which the struggle for resources and land is constant, governments can justify a constant limitation of one’s freedoms in conditions of permanent insecurity of everything. While a person is suspended in time and space, they are unable to plan long-term, and the spacetime (chronotope) affects their ability to make decisions. That, as a result, causes frustration and is also financially debilitating (which is the most severe punishment in the neoliberal economy). In free-market economies, spacetimes place people in a position where they are unable to obtain a mortgage (in mediumand long-term), and where other means of securing one’s housing situation are either unavailable, like cash purchase or options of long-term renting are financially crippling. Conversely, such housing insecurity helps a person’s willingness to consider mobility and increases their social (and personal) uncertainty. Considering the above, the state might utilise chronotopes as tools of social control, as these can be used as a threat against disobedient citizens. When used, chronotopes perpetuate one’s insecurity and place them on a hard-to-break cycle of suspension in time and space by creating a state of permanent liminality (Szakolczai, 2000, 2017, 2022) in their life.

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One example of a legal chronotope would be a criminal trial (Valverde, 2015). It is a dense time where one’s legal destiny is discussed and determined through means of hard law in a specific space of courtroom settings. A criminal trial is a personal chronotope within one’s personal history. Considering the entire legal system, those personal chronotopes are composed of a collection of permanent streams of chronotopes. Thus, the legal system is creating and accommodating those reoccurring spacetime and it can influence and (re)shape these; so that, these permanent chronotopes in some form influence society. Criminal trials re-occur regularly (in specified intervals) in most societies; while an individual (the citizen or person of a different status) would be subjected to it only on certain instances (in principle, only on a few occasions during their lifetime, if at all). These are forms of permanent and reoccurring social rituals discussed above. As such, the power of criminal trials lay in the way these influence behaviours of those not desensitised to them. Those who are desensitised to being in that space, and walking into and out of it, are more prone to question its purpose and integrity. Whereas those who are going into and out of the chronotopic (spatiotemporal) courtroom and trial for the first time most likely will be traumatised by this overwhelming and overpowering experience. When that experience is recalled in the future, it will bring back memories of these traumatic events. A recall is a powerful tool which reproduces events (and the social values associated with those events). When an event is recalled and reproduced by other members of a society, it is responsible for reinforcing its initial effect. Its evaluation of being either positive or negative is irrelevant since the event would be reproduced within that society. Nonetheless, that evaluation of that event might influence one’s willingness to share it with others. One’s recall of events exemplifies the importance of the social role of gossip and information sharing in general to the formation of social norms (see: ‘The State as a Substitute Parent in Ireland’). One of the most appropriate contemporary examples where a suspension of time and space occurs relates to military boot camps (or a more proper description would be military re-socialisation or reconditioning camps) and religious convents. It is an extension of total institutions beyond its boundaries or more appropriately extending principles of

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total institutions into greater society. As shown by Goffman’s (1963, 1978) work on asylums or total institutions, people who are within the reins of these institutions are subdued to total control by them to strengthen their perception of collective identity at the expense of their self-identity. During an initial period of one’s staying in a total institution, a person would be subjected to a severe treatment referred to by Harold Garfinkel (1956) as a successful degradation ceremony. That process entails a demeaning and dehumanising experience, which is a preparatory step towards the social conditioning of that person. Through that process, a person is stripped out of their human qualities so that it is easier for them to accept information that they need to internalise as part of that conditioning process. It breaks down one’s mental barriers which should protect against open manipulation and daily conditioning (see: ‘Introduction to Social Control in Ireland’ and ‘Coercive Confinement’). Successful degradation ceremonies are also used as part of courtroom settings as a means of dehumanising people for their greater willingness to obey court rulings. States can extend degradation ceremonies in a more dispersed form into greater society. Nonetheless, for that to work more efficiently, the state needs to contain and hold its people as much as possible under its control. So, when it comes to a similar process occurring in a society, where specific constraints of time and space are imposed on people, it is harder to achieve that same effect. It is due to a range (or rather a stretch) of a state’s territory. Timewise, total institutions or courts would have a clear and prepared manner for one’s committal to that institution or the courtroom. Whereas in a situation of society due to somewhat unrestricted inner boundaries (the outer boundaries with a high degree of probability would be very much protected if the state is employing the militarisation of behaviours), the state might struggle to achieve that same effect of degradation ceremonies comparable to that of total institutions. Committal to an institution is marked by entering a specific space, while the same level of clarity is not achievable in a society. Yet, a person in their early stages of development will be conditioned through the education process, but what adds to the difficulty is that most people present within the state’s boundaries are at different stages of personal

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advancement. Thus, the state, instead of making a once-off degradation ceremony, can prepare periodically repeated social rituals (Turner, 1995), which act similarly to degradation ceremonies. Due to stable intervals, the state ascertains that all its population would be subjected to these ceremonies at some stage of their life and their development. In these instances, the state is performing a social drill, which was discussed already. It is a protocol which entails that the state’s agents (acting in a similar capacity to a drill sergeant in the army) prepare and perform specified parts of the process so that people would be subjected to an organised and persistent form of state conduct. Such conduct is a form of social conditioning. Some of the surveillance techniques can be used as part of that process as well, where one would adhere to rules based on the possibility of being watched (Bauman & Lyon, 2013; Bigo, 2006). The same can be said about criminal law and matters discussed as part of the hard–soft law divide. Time and space are essential factors for states employing the militarisation of behaviours.

Military Language (and Culture) Language is another standalone tool which can be utilised as a part of the militarisation of behaviours process. Language is an indispensable element of traditional social life and social interactions. It is a powerful social tool which can build or damage social realities, as much as it would affect a person exposed to it. For Michael Foucault (2002), language was responsible for constructing discourses and implementing ideas into social discourse. Another reflection which was relevant to the research that this book is based on is that language remains an essential tool to authors of (legal) textbooks and (legal) professionals. In addition, language is one of the main tools used by the state and military. Similarly, language is a flank through which elements of a military ideology can enter everyday discourses and affect people’s behaviours. According to Elkin (1946), language reflects some attitudes of soldiers. One of these is “the soldier’s self-image of solidarity, freedom from social restraint, and strength” (ibid.: 414), Also, a second one is their attitude towards authority. Elkin views it as a mixture of a dislike for the army’s

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authorities and its acceptance “with varying degrees of resignation, [and] bitterness” (ibid.: 414). He branded that collective attitude as soldier expressions and divides them into genres which could be named for our purposes as army expressions and non-army expressions. The army expressions are distinct to army life and, as a result, are only recognised within the army itself and amongst soldiers. Whereas the non-army expressions are present (and understood) within some groups of civilians and in civil spheres. Over time, the latter ones are manifested more often both inside and outside of army perimeters (ibid.). The non-army expressions can be seen as means for the army language and modus vivendi (way of life) to permeate civilian life and vice versa, and those facilitate the implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. Considering soldier expressions, Elkin (1946) divides the soldiers’ distinctive language into two separate categories: (1) habitual expressions, and (2) fashion expressions. Habitual expressions are those expressions which are articulated commonly throughout the army, and which are internalised by most soldiers during their careers. Fashion expressions are those expressions which would be either short-lived or relevant to a specific location (localised). With a change in a battlefield landscape, when entering a new country with a foreign language, soldiers tend to employ some single words from that foreign language in the common soldiers’ spoken dictionary (ibid.). In a way, the country where operations are held will influence the way soldiers relate to one another through language. Elkin views these expressions as “manifest[ing] an adjustment to new phenomena and new situations. Likewise, through creating a common universe of discourse to refer to their common experiences” (ibid.: 417). That same mechanism can be used as part of the militarisation of behaviours when the military language permeates the civilian one. One example relates to an abbreviation of the term ‘government issue’ (GI also referred to as ‘GI Joe’ or less often ‘GI Jane’) which is employed by the US Army towards its soldiers. Elkin talks about how the US soldiers internalised that term and how they refer to themselves using it (even though it is derogatory in nature). Nonetheless, over time, soldiers started to use that term with a sense of pride as it distinguishes them

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from civilians. In Elkin (1946: 418) words, “[a]ll these expressions indicate the soldier’s self-image of belonging to an Army consisting of men like himself, who undergo experiences like himself ”. That is associated with the process of standardisation and routinisation of behaviours in the army where every activity is designed and must be performed in a specific and prescribed manner. Conversely, it is a way to vent the rigidness of a situation by utilising language as a tool for (and of ) self-objectification. Elkin sees it as a strategy to create a caricatured and mocked image of how the army authorities view soldiers. When objectified, people are referred to as instruments or tools, i.e., a replacement for a broken-down (physically or mentally, or both) person on a battlefield (even if it was due to a lack of structured support) (Weinberg, 1946). In that way during and after WWII, the state and the army tried to exercise control over its soldiers, and a similar technique can be used towards civilians if the army decided that a soldier due to their anxiety or a form of disobedience upset operations of the army unit by affecting its efficiency (for example, by losing self-control, or not fulfilling their duties or orders from their superiors), that person was branded—in Weinberg’s words—as a deviant. Such an act of a state towards their soldiers (or civilians in case of the militarisation of behaviours) creates a space where others can ill-treat that branded person, and their distress can be further perpetuated. The underlying assumption, here, for soldiers and citizen-soldiers, is that “[w]hen the pride in your unit goes … down … so, does morale” (words of Captain Morton C. Wyatt quoted by Weinberg, 1946: 473). That is why when one person is branded, this process can damage the morale of a group, or even effectively break it up. Moreover, the military culture is strongly internalised by soldiers during their early days of intense training using language. When they would end up in the above state of mind where the army disregards them or brand them as deviant, they might feel that they are failing their unit and themselves. As confirmed by Weinberg, on many occasions during wartimes, those who were sent for treatment were still displaying concerns about their colleagues during their convalescence. That self-blaming mechanism referred to by Weinberg (1946) as expressions of self-condemnation is embedded in the conditioning (training) of

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soldiers, and in their culture which was imposed on them. In the context of the army and greater society, such a mechanism is a necessary element to retain unity and make sure people obey the rules of a group and a society. Moreover, such a mechanism might be part of the militarisation of behaviours. Objectification through language can be observed when people are referred to as numbers (man-days, etc.), or animals (human stock). The military tends to objectify people for more comfortable and speedy management of those people who are under their orders. The army is making sure that their human resources are well looked after regarding work assignments. A similar process can be used by the state to subdue its citizens by incorporating certain linguistic phrases into a daily life language. One example comes from colonial language highlighting the infantile qualities of persons who were treated as perpetual boys (Van Onselen, 1976) (similar examples are present in Ireland with a selfreference of boys and in Poland with synek as its Polish equivalent). The state or social groups can impose these linguistic phrases, but most effectively, these expressions are used on a large scale as part of the militarisation of behaviours. The general conclusions drawn by Elkin from the soldiers’ usage of language (and which are also applicable in the context of the militarisation of behaviours) is first that, an authority must be accepted by soldiers (or civilians in case of the militarisation of behaviours) as an essential element of one’s existence in an organisation. Secondly, authority is, on most occasions, viewed negatively. Thirdly, a person subdued to an overarching and overwhelming source of authority (i.e., the army or the state employing the militarisation of behaviours) might respond to it with “resigned acceptance” (F. Elkin, 1946: 422). In contrast, military language and culture can also create a space which allows for those immersed in it to feel individual freedom from the overall societal values and norms. F. Elkin (1946) and H. Elkin (1946) discusses that phenomenon considering the American soldiers. For them, these soldiers feel less responsibility towards (and more freedom from restraints imposed by) their society (and its values). As a result, they feel less bounded by social controls and taboos (relating to any sphere of social life, sexual characteristics, religion, one’s status, and so forth).

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Equally, language can in those circumstances be a tool for the expression of sentiments and attitudes within and towards society. In a way, language is a mechanism of socialisation through which people are building and retaining their social capital and status within their group and which can be used instrumentally by the state. Language in the hands of skilful people is a useful and powerful social tool. The state often uses language as an instrument of social control. In that vein, Kraska (2007) discusses a symbolic shift in the language used concerning criminality. In his view, the state’s language is shifting from “a redefining of criminality to ‘insurgency,’ and crime control to ‘low-intensity conflict’—requiring counter-insurgency measures carried out by both the US military and civilian police” (ibid.: 502). It is a way to soften up hard edges owned by some words which were utilised up-todate by the state. Such a shift is not only symbolic then, as it changes the way processes are branded, and the way these are executed. The same old routines and modi operandi simply gain, as part of that process, a new and more socially acceptable name. That allows for higher levels of social acceptability to those processes, as it lowers the threshold of acceptance to a level where people consciously are more prone to buy into it (without having to consider the real aim of these or how these are implemented). Employment of socially acceptable rhetoric combined with the objectification of people in a public sphere is a reliable indicator of the militarisation of behaviours. On that note, martial rhetoric , as maintained by Kraska (2007), has an important social role to play. Thus, it illuminates the common understanding of the political situation and politically driven populists’ decisions. That is especially visible regarding the usage of crime-control metaphors like the war on drugs. Those metaphors are utilised to form beliefs on problems relating to crime, drugs, and terrorism. The usage of that constructed militaristic language places the discussion on the above topics in the war and military framework, scope, and context. If that is the case, those discussions inevitably revolve around and prompt the usage of a military-like language and response to these situations, and it might signify an implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. A somewhat analogous view is represented by Howell (2018) in the context of institutional racism (in the

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United States), where her term martial politics symbolises a permanent framework of warlike relations applied to people of colour as one example of its application. As such, it allows us to mark systems of racism embedded within, and the usage of military language can create some awareness around certain racial issues. The above accounts exemplify how language can be used to affect one’s comprehension. Similarly, as suggested by Chilton (1987), euphemisms and metaphors are central tools utilised in the ideological discourse (which includes a military ideology). Equally, Chilton sees both euphemism and metaphors as control types of linguistics used to reify matters; where euphemism can be used to conceal and suppress, and metaphor can be utilised to legitimise a discussed subject. Both occupy the opposing side of the ideological discourse spectrum; with euphemism being on a negative side of a linguistic pole (as it obscures comprehension), and metaphor being on a positive side of the same pole (as it can function as an aid in understanding complex matters). As noted by Brian R. Price (2017: 1096), metaphors like “wolves, sheepdogs, and sheep” have great currency within modern military subcultures. Chilton (1987) notes that metaphor can stimulate the production of discourse together with nonlinguistic forms of control and coercion (the use of mass media and one’s right to speak). More broadly, euphemisms and metaphors act as strategies and tactics in a war of words (ibid.). In Chilton’s (1987) view, specific ideological (militaristic, capitalist, racist, or any other ideology) effects on language can be ascertained. Using one metaphor (patients, allergen, doctors, and so forth) as a framework for the other one (people, nuclear, weapons, governments, and so forth), Chilton mapped out the second metaphor based on the first one (as a reference point). In accordance with the theory of politeness phenomena (developed by Brown and Levinson and quoted by Chilton [1987]), a linguistic activity is a series of speech acts which can be somewhat hostile towards one’s interlocutor. In other words, a linguistic activity is a ‘face-threatening act’, as it can harm one’s social position, or using Goffman’s (1990) theory, one’s face. Considering the above, metaphors operate as mitigating language tools for contested subjects of conversations allowing for an acknowledgement or even a practical implementation of these contested topics into

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a conversation. So, metaphors allow a topic to be discussed by both parties, where this topic is less intimidating to one’s perception of self. As such, a metaphor can legitimise or exemplify a problematic topic by consolidating prevailing views relating to it, or it can help assimilate the problematic topic into socially acceptable language frameworks. Metaphors can also be used to mask or construct alternative views of reality (ibid.). That shows the importance of metaphors in employing the militarisation of behaviours, as military metaphors act as a softening tool allowing for smooth incorporation of a military language into the everyday discourse. Chilton observed that military weaponry was described (or rather nick-named) using nature or (wild) mammal metaphors in order for these weapons to be assimilated without difficulty into a common language and its structure. Whereas euphemism is frequently connected and associated with either or both a psychoanalytic concept of repression and an anthropological concept of taboo (Chilton, 1987). The latter association of war taboo was noticed from the early days of the twentieth century when some (in)famous euphemisms like collateral damage entered a collective conscience of an English-speaking public. On a side note, Chilton (ibid.) points out that some entities are euphemised using a particular attribute as ‘lawgivers’, ‘punishers of evil doers’, or in cases of armies people can refer to them as ‘peacekeepers’. That euphemistic naming reduces social attention devoted to these institutions and increases the acceptance of the actions of these organisations. It might also help in executing the militarisation of behaviours. Military language and military culture play an important role in attaining successfully some of the goals of the militarisation of behaviours. Language tools which are used for that purpose relate (but are not limited) to socially acceptable rhetoric, and objectification of people using language, euphemisms, metaphors, and narratives. These linguistic tools help and improve the chances of instilling military culture and the militarisation of behaviours into public discourse and civil spheres. Narratives are also powerful linguistic tools which can be employed as part of the militarisation of behaviours. One of the narratives, the state of exception, is interesting from a perspective of discussions on the use of language and limits of militarisation.

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The State of Exception and Emergency Legislation The state of exception, when introduced as part of the ordinary running of the state pupates into an ‘exceptional form of state’ (Poulantzas, 1978). Emergency rules5 are incorporated into all written constitutions (Neocleous, 2006). This is in accordance with the logic of those in power who want to have tools to maintain that power in case of social unrest. A military dictatorship is an example of a permanent arrangement of the state formation or transition. It occurs when conditions allow someone (possibly, one side of a conflict) to “capitalise on the power vacuum created by the transition” (Hough, 2007: 15). Hall et al. (1978) identified three stages of states moving towards an exceptional situation (or an exceptional state). The first stage is a tendency and shift towards legislative activity and towards informal control on and around the threshold of violence (Hillyard, 2009: 139). That first stage consists of two substages, first requires a distraction and an ideological puzzlement of the public about possible threats to a society and a social order, while the second substage sees a mobilisation of the state’s legal system (reinforced by the media) in support of a more authoritarian strategy. The second stage is the utilisation of informal executive actions which can move to the law as an instrument tackling the social problem (Gill, 2009). The third strategy is straightforward and relates to violence. These three stages lead to the changing of the social situation, but also allow for a distraction and usage of linguistic tools to facilitate that state of exception. In his studies of totalitarianism, Giorgio Agamben (2005) discusses the state of exception when a government introduces exceptional legal and political measures. The state of exception is in a close relationship with civil war, insurrection, and resistance, as it is the opposite of normal conditions. Agamben highlights the loss of human qualities and legal rights by a person subdued to that process. The state of exceptions 5

The attractiveness of emergency legislation as an easy and immediate solution was highlighted by Kilcommins et al. (2004). Also, Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004) speculate about states which use arbitrary power to exercise emergency situations where “a special zone will be set up in which normal laws do not apply” (ibid.: 73). That applies to the Polish situation in late 2021 where nearby the Polish-Belarusian border the law is suspended with a state of emergency being applied.

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allows for the creation of spaces of exception (like concentration camps) characterised by legal vagueness and arbitrariness of decision-makers (for example, directors or workers of concentration camps). In these spaces placed outside of the law, people can be deprived of rights and power. In his view, “[t]he state of exception is an anomic space in which what is at stake is a force of law without law” (ibid.: 39). In that space, the law attempts to annex and incorporate anomie. Any narrative tapping into a collective imagination can elicit an exceptionality of a situation. The threat is specified, and in response, a sort of state of emergency6 is introduced (like the state of emergency in Ireland and the introduction of the martial law of 1981 in Poland) when armies and army behaviours take over the state and its institutions. Nonetheless, it does not mean that the same narrative will hijack public attention for long enough allowing for that state of exceptionality to be kept longterm. The primary function of the right narrative, in the context of the militarisation of behaviours, is to create circumstances that would satisfy the public need for justice or another morally reasonable feeling while mitigating any opposing factors. The militarisation of behaviours occurs similarly when the right social and factual circumstances appear (or rather are introduced). Huxley (2009) makes an interesting point that in a world in which the struggle for resources and land is constant, governments can justify a constant limitation of one’s freedoms in conditions of permanent insecurity of everything. Mark Neocleous (2006) offers a radical view that emergency laws are a central idea relating to governing modern states and the renewal of that debate post-2001 only brought it to light again.7 A level of emergency and exceptional circumstances was created and maintained by some European states (and in some other places) over the last few decades of the twentieth century (Hillyard, 2009). Examples of countries which extended or maintained a state of emergency are the United States, , Israel, and Paraguay (Neocleous, 2006). In that context, 6

Neocleous (2006) stress that we can learn the most about the permanent emergencies but studying the history and tradition of the oppressed. 7 Neocleous (2006: 194) recalls the use by other theorists of terms like ‘state of siege’, ‘state of alert’, ‘state of readiness’, ‘state of internal war’, ‘suspension of guarantees’, ‘martial law’, ‘crisis powers’, ‘special powers’, and ‘curfew’.

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the state of exception is one side of the spectrum of coercive development and the Law and Order Society attitude is at the other end (ibid.). The former is a space symbolised by more discipline in general and a certain level of authoritarianism attained by disciplinary legislation. Whereas the latter is based more on the rule of law and the use of a more transparent normative system. The militarisation of behaviours uses Goffman’s (1990) secret derogation, or merely disrespectful addressing of an audience, where those who perform are agents of a state and citizens are simply an audience. The militarisation of behaviours is captured in the form of a specific state’s actions (masking the militarisation of behaviours process) which are presented to an audience as advantageous to them regarding their safety, health, or other personal or collective benefits. While the true aim is unknown to a greater public, the state can also demonstrate a disregard for, and at the expense of (ibid.), the people subjected to it (in the case of police work, Green and Ward (2009) refer to police working rules as an example of a discretionary grey area measures leaving enough space for their open interpretation). Similarly, militarisation can act as a bounding tool or experience (Goffman, 1990) for the state’s agents who are enforcing the militarisation of behaviours. Goffman’s theory is also useful in explaining the usefulness of other backstage derogatory activities (mocking the audience and planning actions restricting their status or choice) when the treatment of the absent is occurring at the expense of the audience. It is the opposite to respect displayed on the front stage for the audience. As a display of respect is needed in democratic societies for those same performers to be re-elected in due course. The pervasiveness of this situation is twofold. Firstly, those actions are false and hypocritical. Secondly, those same actions are, as mentioned by Goffman, a necessary element to retain the team’s (here, state’s agents) morale. If the former is right, it means that militarisation is not only driven by the state but is also powered by the internal operation and interplay of and between the state’s agents. One of the tools used to facilitate the above could be Goffman’s team collusion which is understood as “any collusive communication which is carefully conveyed in such a way as to cause no threat to the illusion that is being fostered for the audience” (ibid.: 175). That communication can

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incorporate secret signals used even during the performance to affirm the backstage solidarity and allow for the efficient and smooth incorporation of the militarisation of behaviours into the public sphere. State officials might decide to make such legislation a permanent feature of their rains. They can do that by the re-enactment of the emergency legislation, not repealing the existing one, or by transcribing it into ordinary legislation (Neocleous, 2006). Sim and Thomas (1983) drew our attention to that the politics of increased normalisation of emergency laws which happens alongside the delegitimisation and criminalisation of the marginalised communities. That ties to processes of othering and dehumanisation (see: ‘Social Differentiation, Dehumanisation, and Otherness’). Then, scapegoating becomes too obvious of a tactic to be used to blame for all the shortcomings of the state officials in fulfilling their duties. The perceived effectiveness of these processes increases when these are used together. The above processes are used while legal safeguards are being eroded which places people targeted by the state officials in an even more precarious position. That results in them being targeted and not having the access to means (of protection) that would be offered to the rest of the society. The outcome of such a situation is easy to predict; law and social institutions fail those which should be protected leading to perversions of conduct of staterun institutions. Regretfully, history knows too many examples of such situations.

Norms and Legal Systems States can effectively use norms to implement the militarisation of behaviours. Norms can be understood as all standards and customs prevailing in specific social spaces in the form of social norms (soft law) and enacted legislation of all levels (hard law). States enact legal norms (hard law) within their legal systems, which also rely on soft law. In the context of the legislative and governmental settings, nowadays rarely power is unequivocal (all on one side), no matter the contours of formal authority (Marx, 2017). With that in mind, the law, in conjunction with the militarisation of behaviours, became an effective instrument of social

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control leading to overplaying of that element in all social processes, as the law is a social instrument that can and needs to be controlled by the state. Both soft law and hard law are employed as tools to strengthen the message sent by the state to its citizens. Soft law is there to soften up the edges of minor and insignificant forms of disobedience. Whereas hard law (including criminal law) is employed to suppress any form of major (and possibly difficult to control in the future) disobedience. Thus, overall, the law is a relevant tool of social control designed and implemented according to the scale of a problem. In principle, greater disobedience requires stronger tools utilised by the state to tackle that disobedience (it is visible, for example, in aggressive forms of criminalisation of certain social groups). Hard law is employed whenever the state needs to take a firm stand on a matter, or when it wants to change social norms associated with a specific matter permanently. Whereas the subtle social processes in the form of soft law when used by the state (or other entities) create a reliable power structure which over time can help to keep control over the specific population. Soft law is an important power structure which is complementary to hard (enacted) law. Flückiger (2009) recognises the importance of soft law in social coherence and obedience. When the state uses soft law, it combines the strength of social norms and the state’s normative system to create an extensive tool of social persuasion. Then again, when soft law is coupled with military mechanisms of control by instilling a military culture into the public sphere, all these create a powerful and effective apparatus of social control. Nonetheless, the state (and its servants) might decide to resort to stronger reactions than in fact are needed. In that situation, society might react in the form of disappointment towards the state’s harsh response, or even worse, in the form of a strong disengagement or insubordination. When matters go out of the state’s hands, or when the state does not want to involve itself, people might resort to one example of social control in the form of self-help. According to Black (1983), self-help is an expression of an affliction, or objection to it, by unilateral aggression. Self-help, or more accurately self-regulation, is handled in a framework of collective responsibility or rather a collective liability for one another and

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the behaviours of others (ibid.).8 Self-regulation is a version of the soft law approach. It allows for a level of flexibility in societal relations, where within a group or a community people can ascertain a level of state’s allowance to self-regulate their space and behaviour. The state can allow for it only to an extent when its authority is not in jeopardy, and when its intervention in social relations is not required. Nonetheless, unlike soft law, self-help is usually more severe than the law itself. Black (1983) points out in the context of totalitarian states that, people might be refraining from handling their grievances in the form of self-help due to a state’s encouragement to make use of the state’s extensive apparatus of coercion. Hence, at the same time, the state empowers citizens by the value of, and threatens them by the worthlessness of, anyone’s confession to the state about someone else’s deeds. Black (ibid.: 42) uses Hobbes’ metaphor of a war of everyone against everyone to describe that permanent state of terror endured by citizens of totalitarian states. Similarly, Green and Ward (2009) observe that state terror can be distinguished from state-defined crime only by its humanising and educating mission. Thus, the state aims to pacify society through a rational application of the state’s monopoly on violence. That aim is also aligned with the overall process of the militarisation of behaviours.

Surveillance Another intangible element of the militarisation of behaviours is surveillance, which refers to systemic observations of persons or places covertly or overtly by various observation means (Gooch & Williams, 2007: 352). Building on the idea of the symbolic militant, when a state imposes certain norms on its society, it is doing that—amongst others—through means of the military (military language and culture) and administrative (bureaucratic) authority. Regarding the militarisation of behaviours, the state may use a varying degree of strength through enforcement and military powers, including surveillance.

8

On a side note, terrorism rests on an idea of collective liability of its victims (Ruggiero, 2017).

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There are two positions which people can occupy in relation to surveillance, the first one of the surveillance agents (watcher/observer/seeker) who is eager to obtain personal information about the second one of surveillance subjects (Marx, 2017). The role of surveillance agents might be central (i.e., police, private detectives, spies, work supervisors, or military personnel) or peripheral (e.g., shop attendants or doctors who must report information relating to their suspicion of one’s misbehaviour towards children) (ibid.). The police force in a state employing the militarisation of behaviours is a vital (but not the only) element of the state’s surveillance system allowing for a further endurance of the state’s influences over its citizens. The present-day surveillance relies on forms which go beyond the traditional vision and visual oversight by integrating sound, smell, motion, numbers, and words (ibid.). Several factors, including surveillance, significantly affect and imbalance relations between states and their citizens. Some of those would be the creation of citizen databases (including biometrics and fingerprints), secret trials, extended detention periods for people suspected of committing criminal acts, an extension of cases in the category of arrestable offence, an introduction of social orders, giving praises to terrorism, and finally blurring of the police and army boundaries (Hillyard, 2009). Surveillance (including contemporaneous facial recognition and vehicle number plates recognition) is another element of spatial control which can form a part of the militarisation of behaviours and distort that state– citizen balance, as surveillance is also a phenomenon which is an element of growing supervision and scrutiny over individuals by the state (and other entities) (ibid.). That is in stark contrast with a main ideological supposition of communist states of the primary role of the people in relation to the state’s apparatus as “[i]n doctrine of national socialism, a nation occupies the first place” (Wróbel & Zoll, 2014: 58). Surveillance can accommodate an introduction of some form of authoritarianism in its most severe forms (especially to those worst-off and minorities) (Gill, 2009). Also, authoritarianism fails in accomplishing its security goals by not controlling the involvement of “a numerically expansionist, surveillance-oriented, highly militarised and nakedly aggressive state form” (Coleman, 2009: 4) which might be more pronounced and visible in the context of the militarisation of behaviours.

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Professionals, Professions, and Professionalisation as Forms of State Control Professionals are partially responsible for implementing and normalising processes like the militarisation of behaviours. To discuss that, we must first investigate their position in society. Power can be asserted using a triangle of power (or cooperation). In that triangle, the three forces play their part in shaping reality. These are, first, a state (as an entity that accommodates the possibility of that cooperation and uses it for a specific pre-set purpose); second, the law as an instrument of social control capable of shaping the social reality and responding to it at the same time; and finally, professionals of different level and different disciplines. The final component is vital, as it consists of people that are (or are to become) decision-makers in matters relevant to the entire society and relevant to themselves. These professions and representing them professionals are manifold. Some examples will consist of legal professions (judges, lawyers including litigating lawyers, solicitors and barristers and any other relevant legal professionals depending on the origins of a legal system, politicians, and higher-level administrative public servants). They influence the state’s system as they are collectively designing it (or its parts), and they are responsible for maintaining that system in its shape. As a result, professionals can operate as an effective arm of the state in enabling social cohesion and transformations. Any reforms within or from outside must take into account the fact that professionals are immersed in that system. Also, their livelihood depends on professionals making sure that the system stays in place and benefits them (financially, or emotionally by feeling empowered, in control, and appreciated through their importance). Professionals and a process of professionalisation are essential to the military, and vice versa. Firstly, according to Julia Evetts (2003), professionalism is a normative system of values with certain meanings and functions which are utilised to create and retain the stability of the social system within and outside of a specific professional formation. The military is using professionalisation, at the macro level, as a mechanism of occupational rationalisation and change, and at the micro-level,

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as a mechanism of individualised control. Considering the normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours, professionalisation is a process that helps to preserve power for longer (Loh, 2005). Loh comments, for example, that militarisation occurred in Malaysia without the interference of the army itself. It occurred due to professionals and law, which have an enormous role to play. It was done by other means, which is also an option when employing the militarisation of behaviours. These other means included already mentioned coercive legalism (with its ‘rule by law’) and some elements of national security as ideology entrenched in the colonial past. Professionalism is introduced in the military by an increasing number of social functions, like bureaucracy, managerialism, accountability, and audit (Evetts, 2003), which resemble very much the process of the militarisation of behaviours. Professionalism cannot be viewed as a simple re-labelling of a performed duty, but it should be instead perceived as a significant appropriation or reconstitution of a work identity (and as control at a distance) where a professional logic is internalised by a person (ibid.). Due to changing nature of public spheres and constant privatisation of responsibility, states are using professionals and the process of professionalisation as a means to infuse more control into the public sphere. To achieve that, states bestow some authority (and as a result, power) on professional bodies and professionals who are members of these bodies. With a progressive process of professionalisation, a state or other entities are extending more of their influence into a social tissue (Deleuze and Guattari [2013] describe a similar horizontal process as rhizome), as professionals through their socialisation can relate to one another as their common identity is (re)produced through a commonality of shared education, experiences, background, or belonging to a professional organisation (Evetts, 2003). Moreover, one’s willingness to look for structural sources of authority (when personal ones are not present or seemed to fail a younger generation) is stronger than the lack of a stable ideology or conceptual framework (Garland, 2002) that will guide them through meanders of their newly embarked professional journey. During the 1970s and 1980s in the Global North, we have seen increasingly a situation where occupational groups started to successfully close the

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market to those who would not possess the qualification (Evetts, 2003). Any active state would be able to stop that process at its early stages, but most refrained from doing the same, as it was in a way beneficial to states to more or less passively support it over the years. Professionalism is a distinct version of occupational control of work (Evetts, 2003). On that note, professionalism is a sui generis control tool over the market. It can also be seen as a form of organisational and bureaucratic control. In the context of the professionalisation of military personnel, it can be considered as a normative value system and as a discourse of (and for) an occupational change (ibid.). In countries where there is no conscription and applying for military service is voluntary, professionalisation is used as a marketing slogan to attract recruits. One of the main aspects of professionalism within the military is its exclusive ownership of military expertise (ibid.). Nonetheless, it does not equate to control of access to solutions which are, then, discussed at a national level by politicians and by influential national and international actors. This way of looking at professionalism resembles the concept of guilty knowledge, as exclusive to army know-how and knowledge are within the army itself. That does not preclude politicians at a national level to set goals for the army. It is then for the army (via the appropriate chain of command) to decide based on their knowledge and expertise what is the best way in specific circumstances to deliver those goals. Considering the above, the military played an essential role in establishing and developing medicine, medical professions (doctors and nurses), and discipline of public health due to its usefulness of those in achieving army goals (Evetts, 2003; Howell, 2018). Medicine and medical professions benefited from a connection and cooperation with the army due to the founding and possibility to test some of the newly developed techniques on war fronts. Correspondingly, the legal profession benefited every time during the pre-end-of-the-war and post-war periods. The post-peace-deal phases are characterised by the (re)instatement of legal order and drafting of new legislation. Due to the employment of professionals by the state during those periods of preparations for and during rounds of peace negotiations, legal professions gained influence and benefited financially and professionally.

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After discussing how the military achieves its goals using professionalisation, we should shift our attention towards the military using the same process to play other aspects of social life down. On that note, Lindesmith (1946) discusses attitudes displayed by the army personnel during WWII towards the ‘academic officers’ or ‘ground-school instructors’ (or simply teachers). The army had imposed disenchantment, indifference, and dissatisfaction amongst these teachers who delivered basic training to enlisted persons. For Lindesmith (1946: 404), “the complaints of the ground-school instructors were different in that the entire setup and the treatment of the teachers appeared to them as a calculated insult and degradation of the profession”. The above attitude was visible through the meticulous preparation of teachers’ tasks (including those relating to teaching activities) by those of lower qualifications who would be open about their disregard for teachers and their work. These teachers, as a result, internalised that attitude towards them and their work. These teachers recognised soon that there was a low value assigned to their service (Lindesmith, 1946), and they started to treat their work accordingly. It is somewhat surprising in comparison to the discussion on professionalisation. The rationale for it relates to teachers representing a foreign element in army structures and not responding to the same control mechanisms (military hierarchy) which are present in army structures. In addition, teachers represent intellectual values which might not always be valued by an army and a state employing the militarisation of behaviours, as intellectuals are those, who can question the situation and be curious enough to inquire about the state’s actions and intentions. Thus, they can, in the officers’ view, potentially act subversively against the army or the state (whichever is the case), and as a result, teachers might be treated accordingly. Situations like that created a sense of indifference, a sense of inappropriateness to a situation, and a sense of correctness of lazy behaviours. In conjunction, all those are responsible for the employment of mindless obedience and social compliance as self-sustaining strategies. The same was done as part of the socialisation process in the PPR. People were led to believe that developing a mindset (as described above) would be viewed as a positive practice. Thus, regular teachers would be treated appropriately to develop that attitude and their pupils can also employ

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the same approach as part of their education and an intergenerational knowledge exchange process. On a broader level, teachers (similarly to the situation described above) in the context of the socialisation in PRR were a proxy, and effectively, the executors of the state’s decisions during times of the militarisation of behaviours. There are many other parallels here to the PPR situation. One relates to a greater society, where there was generally a lack of appreciation for people with qualifications (especially university graduates, less so for people with vocational education). The other parallel is that such a tier of social hierarchy permeated from the USSR. The Soviet block was established (as many other global entities) based on violence. Nonetheless, most of that violence was directed at intellectual groups (a form of scapegoating). Such an attitude was heavily present in the USSR. Since the Soviet block was responsible for setting up and maintaining the PPR in that specific shape using SMERSH and KGB (see: Dudek & Paczkowski, 2005; Persak & Kami´nski, 2005), some of the USSR modus operandi was introduced and maintained in the PPR over time. One such attitude was a reluctance of the state towards teachers (representing one of the intellectual groups), as it was often publicly stated by the officials, that intellectuals would be prone to foreign and subversive influences. Hence, teachers were treated as a less significant professional group which might be supervised by someone with fewer qualifications than an average representative of that group. In summary, a state (and an army) can achieve its goals through professionalisation. Granting that, professionals can be used instrumentally to support or downplay a specific social matter aligned with the state or military goals, and they can be part of an application of the militarisation of behaviours process.

The Militarisation of the Public Sphere All elements of the process of the militarisation of behaviours described so far can be responsible for subduing society subjected to it, eliciting selected emotions, and prioritising military principles over civil ones. As a result, those can lead to the militarisation of the public sphere where

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dynamics, principles, social hierarchy, and personal perceptions about self and society are altered. Gary T. Marx (2017) while discussing a contemporary society noted that, objectively, more is known nowadays (in what individuals know about themselves and others, and much more is known about them to the state and other entities). He makes an interesting comparison between society and prison, which is relevant in the context of the militarisation of behaviours, surveillance, and the militarisation of the public sphere. In his view, the high-security military and prison context are seeping into the entire society. Thus, Marx asks, if we are moving towards becoming a maximum-security society? As more information is shared about us and others, and where we are subjected to more control. Marx (2017: 1648) identified six characteristics of the maximum-security society: (1) a dossier society with a major role played by the collection, storage, and usage of (personal) records; (2) an actuarial (or risk) society predicting behaviours and risks based on past behaviours and other factual categories; (3) a suspicious society with a high level of mistrust; (4) an engineered society where choices are limited by the physical and social environment and alternatives are often unavailable; (5) a transparent society where matters are becoming progressively translucent; and where time, distance, physical barriers, and traditionally protected information are not confined anymore by the same constraints; and (6) a self-monitored society which is overtaken by an idea of autosurveillance (or self-scrutiny). The sixth point resembles an idea of liquid surveillance discussed by Bauman and Lyon (2013), and two concepts based on the idea of panopticon which was invented by Jeremy Bentham (1843) and later popularised by Michel Foucault (1982). The first one, synopticon was devised by Thomas Mathiesen (1997), and the second, ban-opticon was developed by Didier Bigo (2006). Even though Marx is not expanding these six points beyond the above short description, those seem to be self-explanatory, and as a result, many characteristics of the idea of the maximum-security society resemble and overlap with the militarisation of the public sphere using the militarisation of behaviours. Sandra Walklate (2009) claims that in Europe, an elementary change in the state–citizen relationship began in the 1950s. This change moves towards a functional correlation of obligations and responsibilities on

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the part of both a state and its citizens. Peter Gill (2009) evokes some British examples of an involvement between the army, enforcement agencies, and paramilitaries as captured by several legal and formal inquiries. Some of these were in the form of providing paramilitary or organised crime groups with information about other entities. Also, those related to withholding information, leaking documents, but also concealment of other documents, or destroying them. It also includes ‘cuffing’ (Patrick, 2014), with crimes not being recorded on the system properly (or at all), misleading investigators, tipping off on the possible raid, and even conspiracy to murder. The above resembles the situation in the PPR during the 1980s when the state facilitated the emergence and operation of organised crime groups (Kaucz, 2016). Hillyard (2009) notes the contemporary legislative output in some states is characterised by the normalisation of counter-terror and the spatialisation of social control . The former is responsible for the normalisation and social acceptance of measures and practices associated with counter-terrorism. It is characterised by a change in the way these measures are structured, but also in the way legal norms in relation to it are established. More often, these legal norms are incorporated into ordinary criminal law and are given a permanent status within that legislation. The latter denotes a focus on and distinct treatment of specific locations or districts of the social space. The two processes are changing the role of the law in society but are also closely connected to the criminalisation of social behaviour (ibid.) and might be a sign of the militarisation of behaviours. Correspondingly, Ken Worpole (1992) referred to social spaces within a framework of mental maps which were ways in which people construct (urban) spaces in their minds based on a perceived level of safety within them (while the specified time of the day is taken into account as well). Fear and space relate to the idea that “the processes of spatialisation of fear in contemporary Western urban space (fortification, privatisation, exclusion/seclusion, fragmentation, polarisation) and their relationships with feelings of fear of crime and violence” (Tulumello, 2015: 257) are connected. Tulumello (2015) reminds us that the perception of safety and fear changed during hypermodernity. One of the consequences of

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that change is the emergence of the concept of urban fear which relates to the spatially induced impression of fear (ibid.). Urban fear is seen in enclaves of barbarism, which are bounded spaces or situations (chronotopes or spacetimes) where ordinary life rules are suspended (Green & Ward, 2009). It is also the same space which allows for state agents to safely perform atrocious acts outside of their normal habitus, and which contains their behaviour as if it would only be allowed for and happening within that space. That said, by being outside of that space, a person feels relieved of their duty to perform activities that would not be done by them otherwise. That resembles the concept of commuting to homosexuality (attributed to Laud Humphrey) discussed by Wayne H. Brekhus (2004). This concept refers to a situation where people are presumably travelling to and from their temporary identity. Nonetheless, in that instance, the reference is made towards one’s true identity. Whereas in the above example, the person travels to their professional identity, which was obtained as part of professional training. The above encompasses a curfew in which a restriction of movement during certain times (presumably night-time) is part of it. It was also intruded during Martial Law in the PPR between 1981 and 1983. It is traditionally imposed by the military to gain control over a precise location (Hillyard, 2009). It is also one of the signs of the normalisation of emergency legislation and gradual incorporation of it into ordinary legislation. As, it permeated into the public sphere from the military and, as such, the army was the first proprietor of that tool of social and spatial control. Another illustration of militarisation of the public sphere relates to a changing relationship between central and local governments, or more so, the power relationship of the central government over the local one (Hancock, 2009). Lynn Hancock (2009) is also questioning how (if at all) the power associated with crime prevention was diffused downwards to communities. She notes that the local governance of Great Britain under the New Labour was shifting towards the power-dependence model, where local governance relies on the power of the state and from outside of it. That model requires local governments to negotiate strategies and tactics of local crime prevention (programmes).

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Overall, militarisation can occur in states which are undergoing a particular transformation (its establishment, reestablishment, or abolishment). Such transformation, regardless of the reason why a state is going through, is a fruitful soil for a process of militarisation and the militarisation of behaviours. We can refer to states which went through one of these transformations as post-militarisation states. In post-militarisation states, there is a high degree of possibility of a coup or a form of insurgency due to an immersion of the entire state and its citizens in a military mode of thinking. Training obtained during the war period or while being in an army (such as military strategy, equipment, and moralebuilding) may lead towards staging an attempt to overtake the power which (on its own or as part of it) leads to a spiral of aggression and degradation of a social tissue (a term often used in these situations is war atrocities). Some states might in those conditions engage in the further perpetuation of conflict as their modus operandi and effectively impose that on its citizens via militarisation (if it has not occurred already). The post-militarisation state is a space where it is easy to implement ideas and create social divisions, for example, using the process of othering (Becker, 1973). It is likely that in that space, social partitioning already exists in some form. In the circumstances of a post-militarisation state, some presently unassigned military serviceperson might enlist themselves to newly formed or already-established private military companies (PMCs) (Hough, 2007: 8); or just make themselves available (in any capacity) to paramilitary organisations as those who received military training might be involved in an insurgency against the same state that trained them in the first place. These people are well trained, disciplined, and in the right military-like mindset to fight against the state. Correspondingly, Lian Tuang Nah brings to the fore a contemporary Syrian example, where “today’s freedom fighter might morph into tomorrow’s terrorist, imparting war-fighting skills to insurgents might backfire” (Nah, 2013: 1). One can assume that the militarisation of behaviours is an attempt to tackle frontally and with full strength the conflict or its early forms. It is an abrupt way of conflict management situation lacking a resolution to a problem. In that situation, one might be dissuaded to do

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what they would not do in different circumstances. The militarisation of behaviours instead of being a social tool which unifies and antagonises those subjected to it. Considering several instances discussed in this section, these do not constitute an exhaustive enumeration of the effects of the militarisation of the public sphere. These were presented here to exemplify some of its effects. Of importance is that the militarisation of behaviours changes social dynamics and creates spaces favouring military modi operandi.

Normalising the Militarisation of Behaviours After examining elements of the militarisation of behaviours and exploring some effects of its implementation in the form of militarisation on public spheres, we should investigate some basics of normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours. Normalisation is treated, by Tim M. Riding (1997), as a family of ideas relating to a process of matching one’s lifestyle to that represented by a majority of people from a specific society or a group. Also, normalisation as a concept is used in disability studies, and it relates to attempts to level the life chances of people with disabilities to increase participation and decrease social exclusion (Culham & Nind, 2003). In that way, this concept is utilised to include a person in society. While in the case of a totalitarian state that the same tool is used to homogenise society to create a mass of commoners with shared interests. When a state is making attempts to normalise some of the behaviours (and modes of behaviours), that state makes sure that people exposed to that process will not question it (at present, but more importantly in the future). Firstly, a normalising process of a norm (or a set of norms) must be successfully internalised and accepted by those people who are exposed to it. Then, that norm or sets of norms become firmly embedded and can be perpetuated in that society, group, and/or family (social unit) by reinforcing these norms from within that social space. For new norms to be introduced into group thinking, the old ones must be undermined. Here, it is worth signposting the significance of moral panics which creates a space where group norms can be influenced and

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remoulded to accommodate norms relevant to the implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. Moral panics, as a practice, can be ordinarily noticed by a population. Whereas the militarisation of behaviours is more invasive and most likely is not perceived in the same way as normative alterations triggered by moral panics. When implementing the militarisation of behaviours, a state can try to affect not only norms, but also language, and public spheres. Regarding language, the last decades have seen increasing use of military terminology in civilian spheres (in religious and political rhetoric both conservative and radical). Wilson (1998) makes it clear that nineteenthcentury hymns and the Communist Manifesto itself were full of military references and language. That relates to previously discussed influences of military language and culture on civil spheres. Whereas, concerning social conditions, Peter Gill (2009) brings to the fore some examples of the permeation of ordinary life by technological surveillance tools. Namely, vehicle registration identification systems were, according to him, designed in the Northern Ireland laboratory for the identification of terrorists, but then were utilised in London in the 1990s for commercial and ecological purposes. It is a vivid example of a tool which originated in response to a constricted social problem and was later applied widely in society. Also, other examples of the permeation of tools relevant to the militarisation of behaviours into social spheres were already discussed. In a society, ex-military personnel have an important part to play in normalising the militarisation of behaviours. The lines can become blurred between civilians and combatants (Badaliˇc, 2019). Wilson’s (1998) research suggests that in the post-WWI period, ex-soldiers became carriers and propagators of military culture and would often organise themselves into dedicated groups. Given that, Wilson offers an enormously powerful example of Adolph Hitler, who was an excombatant, and who used his own experiences in the military to build his later political philosophy based on military culture. To an extent, the above influence can be ascribed to military conscription, the commonality of experience of becoming a soldier, and later, reverting to society. It can also be associated with experiences on battlefields which become engraved onto soldiers’ personalities, and which might be retained in their postmilitary life.

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Correspondingly, the role of a paramilitary in the process of normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours is significant. Wilson (1998) maintains that some of the British religious groups like the Salvation Army or the Church Army were organised primarily on the army model. Also, certain professions (namely, firefighters, police, and nurses), had a long-standing relationship with the army. Those professions have been using army-like uniforms and “simulacrum of military discipline” (ibid.: 544) for several purposes. One of them is to build a unity of their professional groups (see: Kaucz, 2016) and gain more authority within a society by feeding off the feelings and authority which societies grant to armies and soldiers. Nurses in Great Britain are a good example, as the nursing profession in its organised form originated out of the British army (Evetts, 2003; Howell, 2018). Considering professionals’ influence on normalising the militarisation of behaviours, impunity of administrative and professional structures within a state combined with secrecy and state terror can generate structural opportunities for officials to perform criminal activities (Green & Ward, 2009). That on its own possibly entails a personal conflict within state organisations (especially if there is a space for them to compete). Green and Ward see that as a space for soldiers and police where they can engage in a systemic process of the brutalisation of behaviours. From the point of view of a newbie to an enforcement agency, the message is clear, that they must act in the same manner as everyone else in that organisation. Besides, rules are suspended and do not apply directly to those who should be enforcing them and “where the ordinary rules of pacified social space do not apply” (ibid.: 124). Equally, the purpose of this manifestation of violence is to adjust newbies’ expectations and behaviours, and for them to be more attuned to behaviours of an entire formation. The militarisation of behaviours starts with the enforcement of norms and radiates outside of a formation onto the society. One of the ways to normalise the militarisation of behaviours is by undermining democratic mechanisms. The militarisation of behaviours shares, some features with a process described by Hillyard and PercySmith (1988, 1989) as a declining democracy and progressive coercion of the state. They observed that amongst other shortcomings of the British state, formal provisions which should be safeguarding against any

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abuses of power, scrutinising, and making those in power accountable are weak. That idea of a decline in democracy (democratic procedures and oversight) and a move towards state’s induced coercion contradicts mainstream claims that people nowadays own more liberty and freedom within democratic states than ever before. It might be a truism, but another reason for the decline in a democracy is the state’s propensity to secrecy which can form a part of the implementation process of the militarisation of behaviours. As such, this setup creates a particular imbalance in favour of those in power, as these people would be able to operate more freely to an extent. It would entail more freedom than those who would not have power. As internal and external constraints bound those lacking power. Whereas those with power will have more insider knowledge as to what is happening inside of the state and about those who are subjected to the state’s power and the state’s intrusive investigations into their behaviours (ibid.). Likewise, the decline in a democracy is facilitated by a disparity in balance regarding political participation, as people are in no position to access it on an equal basis. Furthermore, those in power are determined to incapacitate the autonomy and legitimacy of some of the intermediary institutions of the state (ibid.). Moreover, Hillyard and Percy-Smith (1989) are of a view that the 1980s and 1990s Britain is characterised by a few attributes which otherwise would be more associated with authoritarian or totalitarian states, namely, a suppression of information and limitation of access to it, censorship, and the use of propaganda (which can effectively form a part of the militarisation of behaviours). Their research exemplifies a permeation of the authoritarian modus operandi into democratic settings. Furthermore, the division between government information and partypolitical propaganda is more blurred than ever before. In other words, a certain level of impartiality which should be benefiting an overall population is mostly lost. With more information gathered and obtained by the state (in the form of information on income, personal and family history, geolocation, browsing history, phone records, medical records, and photographic and biometric data), that state has more control over its citizens, and as a result, citizens have less freedom (in a disturbed

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power balance). The above account shows that elements of the militarisation of behaviours are already present in this case in British society. With the implementation of a few other of its elements, British people might be exposed to a greater array of techniques associated with the militarisation of behaviours.

Conclusions The aim of the militarisation of public spheres and normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours is to attain social homogenisation, where any anti-state behaviours will be disapproved by people from the closest social circles (structurally at the lowest social level), and the state would not need to intervene. For that, the state needs to incorporate a robust and disempowering (to people) system of social norms which will be selfperpetuating and would only require the state’s intervention in case of their transgression (an intervention at a higher level of social hierarchy). Normalisation processes are not independent of the militarisation of behaviours but are inseparable from all elements of that process. Hence, normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours assists in the smooth incorporation of all processes of the militarisation of behaviours within a state employing it. This part aimed to show that some processes as part of the militarisation of behaviours are historically rooted and can have long-lasting effects. This section aimed to showcase the complexity of the militarisation of behaviours by placing that process in a theoretical framework. All elements of the militarisation of behaviours are exercised to create uniformity in society by homogenising behaviours and people’s experiences. While doing that, people develop specific coping mechanisms. That might help in attaining high levels of social compliance, but also specific dependency on the state and its institutions. When that is supplemented with the incorporation of obedience as part of the daily lives of those subjected to the militarisation of behaviours, the state can attain a high degree of social compliance and discipline, which, ultimately, are the goals of the process of the militarisation of behaviours.

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6 Conclusions and Recommendations

Introduction The militarisation of behaviours is a useful social instrument which can be employed by a state in favourable conditions, especially if the state is already in a post-militarisation stage. In times when a specific ideology is not rooted enough in society, the militarisation of behaviours offers an alternative as an effective approach to rein in a specific society and prepare it for indoctrination along the lines of a specific ideology. Its effectiveness lies in the way it is cleansing the nuances, histories, traditions, and cultures of specific groups (including minorities). That on its own is a preparatory step for homogenisation and unification of the population. The homogenisation leads then to the creation of a social space where people can relate to one another on the platform of the prescribed ideology dictated by the state. The militarisation of behaviours consists of several standalone theoretical tools (discussed already in length). To an extent, it has the potential to become widespread, as it can be employed by any state (examples of its employment are currently seen in Russia, Eastern Ukraine, and some African states). © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3_6

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One of the reasons why no one discussed the militarisation of behaviours to date is a blending of the state ideology and tools of the militarisation of behaviours. In the Polish context, for some, it was hard to separate a socialist ideology from the militarisation of behaviours due to a certain overlap (blending of ideology mixed with oppression). The state’s ideology was projecting a specific socialist-related line of thinking and logic (onto citizens and outside of the state), whereas the militarisation of behaviours was a practical social instrument which was utilised by the state to subdue its citizens (in accordance with the best interests of those in power and against the state’s ideology).

The Militarisation of Behaviours The militarisation of behaviours is combining tools of social control which augmented intensify their use and ramifications. This process is employed by states with a higher probability in certain situations when the state’s affairs are not in good shape, indicating a possible future conflict in a society. When the level of uncertainty reaches a certain point, the state, in order to rein the situation in, has a choice to switch to military mode. Then, in anticipation of conflicts within the state (between its citizens, and/or between citizens and the state, or even within the state institutions), the state changes its attitude towards its citizens to ascertain dominance in that predicted conflict. When expecting a conflict, the state first changes its language, and then, as a result, employs a military-like mode of operations leading further towards the militarisation of behaviours. Linking that with the Polish situation, it resembled an introduction of the military-like law and other social instruments in the PPR. That was done for two purposes. Firstly, the time just before and after 1945 signifies a post-war period with its different dynamics and specificity. That was associated with the fact that people heavily relied on customary law for smooth social cooperation in a time of a change of overarching political powers (or a threat of such a possibility). Thus, customary law is a part of the human capacity to make rules concerning one’s conduct (Ørebech, 2005). The simplicity and clarity of human exchange and cooperation in rough times

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can be in some way aligned with the simplicity of military law and discipline. Secondly, the militarisation of behaviours offered the state officials a practical solution to the post-war conditions of a disorder because of its simplicity and the employment of military discipline in enforcing it. In these circumstances, unconstrained cooperation is substituted with fear, which works as a platform facilitating domination and pacification of the citizens. Law sanctions and facilitates these actions by creating conditions resembling a war front (or extends these circumstances, like in Ireland by stretching the period of ‘emergency’). Together, law and state infrastructure inform people on who to follow, what to do, and if there is a need to die for that country. The militarisation of behaviours is a complex social process. By using all (or some) social tools, like bureaucracy (and the bureaucratic structure); propaganda, professionalisation; soft and hard law; military language and culture; surveillance and securitisation; militarisation of the public sphere; and by normalising all the above, the state is a position to introduce the militarisation of behaviours in a society. The militarisation of behaviours leads to situations where ordinary rights, and more generally, law (incorporating its underlying assumptions) are suspended. It is a liminal space (Szakolczai, 2000, 2017; Turner, 1995) and a time when people are prepared to transition into a new space and social situation. Militarisation, in general, leads to a creation of circumstances where people are subjected to it continuously and react as if they had it imprinted onto their behaviour (similarly to war memories of combatants). The suspension of norms (including legal ones) on its own creates a space where the state forcefully alters people’s behaviours by shifting them from one social situation to another. That transition is engraved onto one’s personality so profoundly that the state can retrieve it at any given point in the future by recalling related events or triggering a military sentiment associated with it. Leaders play an essential role, as most of the time, they are responsible for the incorporation of the militarisation of behaviours on a mass scale. Bauman (2012) notes that the idea of human self-determination has its limitations. It does not mean that that state should have the power to delimit one’s freedom utterly. That is brought to its extreme with the Chinese model of behaviour in a form of the ‘Smart Cities’

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programme in which any anti-state activity lowers a person’s chance for social advancement and social benefits of that burdensome social programme.

Early Signs of the Militarisation of Behaviours in Poland Besides staffing public posts with military personnel, there are other indications of the militarisation of behaviours. These should be perceived in conjunction with (and sometimes as a cause of ) other socially harmful processes. One of the primary signs of the militarisation of behaviours is when lawmakers believe that restraining the judicature with any legal norms is not socially beneficial. In those cases, effectively blanket norms are enacted, creating a space for judges not to be bound by legal norms. It was an attitude represented by officials of both Nazi Germany and the Soviets while taking control over Polish territory after WWII. That approach corresponds with Fuhrer’s controversial view that the judiciary exists, not to secure a superior idea of justice, but to secure the existence of the ruling powers (Czy˙zak, 2007; Konieczny, 1972). Another early sign of the militarisation of behaviours is when a state and its representatives begin using derogatory language when referring to specific groups or minorities. Both Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia used the concept of a pest when referring to those who commit crimes or directly oppose those in power (ibid.). Such a dehumanising attitude (Bauman, 2008; Goffman, 1963) is in stark contrast with the universal idea of justice and principles of ius (citizen’s rights secured by law). It also opens up the possibility to introduce extraordinary measures and a detailed (or special) version of justice mainly designed for that group of people who are not viewed as fully human. On a somewhat similar note, Garland (2002) reminds us that the twentieth and twenty-first centuries saw a re-emergence of a more punitive approach towards the criminal justice system in that penalties are becoming stricter and more retributive. A return of more repressive measures assisted a reappearance of the language of condemnation in the public sphere.

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The blending of roles is another early sign of the militarisation of behaviours. That was the case when the Nazi German police were assigned judicial roles to adjudicate as part of the Ad hoc Police Courts (Konieczny, 1972). It is a sign of blurring or diminishing the wellacknowledged idea of Baron de Montesquieu (of the tripartite separation of powers) when either a legislature, an executive, or a judiciary takes over roles from others. Similarly, changing the aims of the legislation by shifting its subject to another one—probably not intended by the original legislators or against the written authorisation of that piece of legislation—to suit those in power is another indication of the militarisation of behaviours. An introduction of secrecy and terror are proper indicators of the possible introduction of the militarisation of behaviours. Correspondingly, Konieczny (1972) suggests that at some point the military wartime law of the Nazi, not only introduced a fight against the state’s enemies, but it was also responsible for an introduction of an overwhelming terror aimed at everyone. A part of that, war terror is associated with the means of war communication, and it can be implemented by forbidding ownership of a radio receiver (and more so, radio stations) which was done by both the Nazi (ibid.) and the Soviets (Kładoczny, 2004). Utilising military-like language in the public sphere, like deploying troops, military grounds, etc., is one of the signs of the militarisation process resulting in a reassignment of social roles. From the language viewpoint, a social situation changes into a military one, and the landscape (then military grounds or a battlefield) becomes subordinated to military purposes. In that situation, people become either soldiers or civilians (a linguistic dichotomy which shapes the reality, leaving no middle ground between the two), and goods are viewed by considering their usefulness, strategy-wise. In that new reality, everything is subordinated towards its new combat purpose and value, and any potential altercations. Then, language can act as a tool of a social divide (by splitting people into either military or civilians). With that in mind, a similar process to the militarisation of behaviours was observed and described by Wilson (1998) in a more general European and contemporary context. In Wilson’s view, it is only in recent times that the extension of the

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military culture percolates beyond the military itself. On a more downto-earth level, it means that civil society (inclusive of all its members and not only elites) was (and still is) infused with military values. That resulted, in his view, in the creation of new general patterns of authority and social discipline associated with it—all leading to an introduction of a new kind of faith and beliefs revolving around the nation and the nation-state. On that note, Wilson calls for the abandonment of the outdated distinction between military and non-military, seeing it as anachronistic. It can be claimed that such a dichotomy is an artificial one in the circumstances where the militarisation processes have entered and remained in the public sphere. Again, it must be emphasised that the above early signs, and consequently conceptual parts of the militarisation of behaviours, do not have to occur all at once. These can be noticed solely or in conjunction with a few of these and can have varying levels of intensity. More contemporarily, in 2018, the Polish Parliament reduced instances where a person subjected to the civil or penal norms would be in a position to appeal a court verdict. In other words, there was a curtailment of options for an individual to challenge the state’s decisions. On the other hand, there were instances where the right to appeal was granted to the Attorney General. Currently, the office of the Attorney General is combined with the office of the Minister of Justice. As a result, the same person occupies both of these positions. Also, legal pathways were introduced for the Attorney General to appeal final judgments in basically any closed case. That allowed for abuse of power (there were already instances where politically sensitive court cases were revisited and awaiting new judgments). These also break one of the basic rules of the Polish legal system which is the permanency of the law. How is the above related to the militarisation of behaviours? The contemporary post-2015 changes in the Polish legislation resemble (1) the ways in which the 1940s decrees were enacted (gradually in separate statues which seemingly are not connected), (2) with very short vacation legis (from the time of its enactment to its legal enforcement), and (3) the overall purpose, for example, to make judges more susceptible to political pressure like in the case of the reform of the Constitutional Tribunal.

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In the aftermath of it, several politicians were elected to the newly reconstructed Tribunal and maintain a majority in it. Moreover, the manner and speed at which the Parliament worked on these were questionable (in some instances statutes were enacted in less than 24 h and often in the middle of the night). The speed at which legislation is passed can be a cause of concern (see: Kilcommins et al., 2004).

Warning Signs War from the very beginning of the first forms of statehood was a state’s tool used to control people, space, resources, and ideas. In a postconflict society, it is easier to introduce elements of the militarisation of behaviours which are likely already present in that society anyway. Any conflict changes the social structure and cooperation. The mode of operation and cooperation switches from ordinary bureaucratic governance into military-style war management. However, Enloe (2004) notes that militarisation happens most often during non-war times. One of the warning signs of the use of any overwhelming processes of social control like the militarisation of behaviours is exemplified by Hannah Arendt (1973). In short, Arendt offers us a valuable lesson that in places where books are being burnt, people might be burnt soon as well. Similarly, it might be a truism, but there is no better way to unite people than to make them believe that they have a common enemy. There are warning signs when the politicians start telling us that we need to unite against the enemy that is a threat to all of us, our society, and our way of life. Such a common enemy needs to be identified and fought with physically and mentally. Such an identification of a common enemy is followed by a call to adjust our behaviour since the situation changed and requires an alteration in the way we live. To protect ourselves, we are told that we need to alter our behaviours. To rephrase that, in order to maintain our good-old way of life, we are asked to alter that same good-old way of life. That makes sense, does it not?

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The Normalisation of the Militarisation of the State A practical implementation of the militarisation of behaviours rests on its smooth and uninterrupted execution by normalising some parts of that process. As noted already, there have been instances in the history of the PPR when militarisation was normalised by the permeation of military culture into a non-military sphere. That occurred when soldiersociologists delivered sociology classes while wearing military uniforms and weapons while teaching; Zygmunt Bauman was, in his early career, a soldier-sociologist (Smith, 2017). The normalisation of militarisation of the state and its processes happens over time when a piece of legislation of a military nature starts to permeate into a legal and social reality and becomes its common element. However, it is also happening when that legislation is used for purposes for which it was not intended (beyond the original scope of that legislation). Another way of normalising the militarisation of behaviours is to obscure a specific social process and dilute it through a series of small steps. That was the case with the implementation of the state of emergency in Ireland with the ‘judicial imprimatur’ (sanctioning) (Kilcommins & Vaughan, 2004: 56). In that case, a penal crisis was created where “the result-orientated potential of these extra-ordinary [military-like] provisions quickly looked attractive to the authorities” (ibid.: 56) and became utilised by these authorities. In the Irish context, when the antiterrorist rationale was no longer acceptable, the previous arrangements prevailed and were instrumental and justified by their appropriateness and usability to the state in battling organised crime. Organised crime was “a form of crime that has, without much debate, assumed the ‘folk devil’ security-threatening status previously only associated in Ireland with political violence” (ibid.: 56). That was an example of a gradual transition from the extraordinary measures into a normal state of affairs (Sim & Thomas, 1983). That situation resembled a transition of novice soldiers into a military-like life.

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Adjustment to Military-like Life As noted by Shaw (1991) nowadays, we can observe the unprecedented overlap between social and military developments. It was evident in the context of what was referred to during the Cold War period as total war when societies became militarised and war as a result socialised. That noted, Hollingshead (1946: 439) identified three self-explanatory phases (and several sub-phases) of the adjustment to the military situation (viewed as a social process in a life of a person) which would be applicable also in public settings. These were: (1) the premilitary, (2) the military, and (3) the postmilitary situations. Firstly, the premilitary situation might be in the form of preparation for possible participation in a military conflict, which is only potentially going to occur. Secondly, people who are subjected to the military phase will go through several significant sub-phases, including “induction into the army, basic training, specialised training, technical training, precombat manoeuvres, combat, and, finally, the postcombat period, and demobilization” (ibid.: 439). The final phase, the postmilitary situation, is, to an extent, selfexplanatory, as it is apparently only available to those who survived wartimes (but even at this point their social status and the economic situation might seem uncertain); or, in a civil environment, it is available only to those who are transitioning out of the militarised space (or times). The above phases are not only applicable to the situation of the American soldiers during World War II. Nonetheless, the reality in continental Europe also was not so transparent and clear-cut after all (especially regarding such a division of military phases). In the context of 1940s legislation in Poland, one can assume that the remainder of the Polish population which survived the burdens of the war were either in phase two (not-yet-demilitarised members of the Home Army) or phase three of the military situation (either demilitarised members of the Home Army or other civilians of mixed-status). When a society is in one of these two phases, it is easier for state officials to introduce the militarisation of behaviours. Also, for those who grew up in the context of a military conflict and, depending on their situation, phases one and two might be

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either blurred or even entirely overlapping. In the US setting, Hollingshead refers to an adjustment to the military situation as having its beginning in early childhood. Then, direct and indirect preconditioning factors “inherent in war and the personality-forming process establish a frame of reference for the person’s reactions to a war” (Hollingshead, 1946: 439). Such interference in the state of one’s mind and behaviour requires a set of interventions (one of the primary interventions was the establishment and usage of the 1940s decrees). For example, Hollingshead discusses the moment when a newly admitted recruit realises that they become a soldier by employing phrases like “you’re in the army now, soldier” (ibid.: 439). Then, it is a sign that “the active adjustment process between the self and the reality of the military situation has reached a critical point” (ibid.: 442). These interventions allow newly admitted soldiers to realise probably for the first time that their old civilian life is behind them. The opposite can be asserted about civilian life. Civilians quite probably would not register when they are subjected to the militarisation of behaviours by using a military-like language.

Soldiers’ Nostalgia, Commonality, and Social Control In discussing critical military studies from an evolving interdisciplinary perspective, Basham et al. (2015) remind us of several ways in which a military (and its apparatus) categorises systematically and bureaucratises soldiers’ bodies and minds. Of importance is that those bodies and minds are shaped by defiance and combat. As asserted by Adey et al. (2016), some soldiers in the British Navy will display an almost-nostalgia feeling given the loss of military cohesion as much as of group togetherness caused by changing social circumstances. One can associate that with a very influential training to which those soldiers were exposed in the early days of their military career. Adey et al. are of the view that it might be also associated with the use of common spaces and equipment by those soldiers on a daily basis which helps them identify themselves with others with whom they are sharing that equipment and amenities. It happens with any interactions which seem to be insulating and

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limiting a person from intimacy with others (ibid.). If the above argument is extended beyond the military culture and sphere, it could be argued that the same allowances to use items and spaces (which are only limited to a certain population based on their occupational, financial, or social situation) would have a potential to act similarly in creating a feeling of togetherness as in the army. For Foucault (2005), the power exercised on the body is conceived as a strategy employed by the state in a network of social relations. In these conditions, “power relations have an immediate hold upon it [the body]; they [the state] invest it, mark it, train it, torture it, force it to carry out tasks, to perform ceremonies, to emit signs. … the body becomes a useful force only if it is both a productive body and a subjected body” (ibid.: 25). The militarisation of behaviours is relevant in the context of that discussion as it also removes power to self-determination over one’s body, using Foucault’s language, by coding the “lack of power” (ibid.: 29) onto those bodies. If one compares the militarisation of behaviours with mass conscription before a military conflict or a regular war is to erupt, it becomes obvious what kind of powers the state gains over its population and why it is so beneficial to the state to try to employ that process of mass control on its populace. As mass conscription allows for mass control and takeover of powers from private hands (if at all) and allocating those in the hands of the state’s agents. The state can decide about a significant portion of its citizens and the remainder of them are still affected indirectly anyway. The militarisation of behaviours, considering its scale and mass character, is more subtle. Its employment is not so pronounced, nonetheless, it has a somewhat similar effect on the population to mass conscription. The militarisation of behaviours places an emphasis on an individual to adhere to the rules set as part of that process. Liquid modernity (Bauman & Lyon, 2013) does the same, it forces a person to take on board more roles and be more self-sufficient. That is especially apparent in the context of the neoliberal self-management approach (inclusive of self-obedience) and ways in which states utilise the process of the militarisation of behaviours. Thus, the militarisation of behaviours is more effective in conditions imposing personal self-limitation, and it is attuned

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to the dispersed sources of social control. Instead of relying on cooperation and consensus, the militarisation of behaviours is used to persuade people to act in a specific way. That way, consensus rather than being achieved is enforced. Alternatively, people are being deceived that the majority thinks in a specific way which is aligned with what is beneficial to the state officials. Also, the militarisation of behaviours is used to fill the governance vacuum or more specifically any aspects of social life which are not governed or controlled by the state. Since the militarisation of behaviours is an overwhelming process which can subdue people, it can force people to act in a specific way even when they are outside of spaces formally governed by the state. But it may not necessarily always be the case. Our attention is drawn by Deleuze (1992) towards a particular state of being in a form of modulation of behaviours which a nation-state can seek for its citizens. It is contrary to Foucault’s (1982) disciplinary model where the state attempts to mould citizens into a lasting conglomerate of people (Fussey, 2017). Following Foucault’s analysis of enclosed social environments (namely, family schools, hospitals, factories, or other social institutions like the army), Deleuze (1992) refers to these environments as having certain features of factories (one can encapsulate that overview in short as ‘society as a factory’) as being concentrated, controlling of distribution of space and time, and devising productivity in a confined spacetime. He sees a mode of factory-like operation of the mentioned disciplinaries societies (symbolised by a move from school to barracks, and from barracks to factories) being slowly replaced by, what he denotes as, societies of control . Deleuze perceives that shift from the disciplinaries societies towards societies of control as symbolised by several moves: from institutionalised healthcare to community healthcare; from the factory to the corporation; and from school to perpetual training. Whereas, in the societies of control (which are in a continuous variation), one is never in a position to reach a specified goal, like “the corporation, the educational system, [and] the armed services being [due to] metastable states coexisting in one and the same modulation, like a universal system of deformation” (Deleuze, 1992: 5). In these societies, an individual loses their human element and becomes ‘dividuals’, masses, samples data, or

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markers. In the process of that, a progressive and discrete instillation of a new organisation of power starts to occur (ibid.). In a way, one can assume that this shift is about a dilution of power and its ramification. As such, power in that form is more difficult to be perceived as coherent, but also simply seen in its traditional form. Nonetheless, a change in shape does not constitute a change in strength, as such power can be reinforced due to reduced resistance to a matter that might not be noted by the public anymore. As the public may not be alerted by its existence or operation any longer. That power might be exercised by the state or other entity. State coercion and violence (or a threat of it) can be met with (organised) political violence. Vincenzo Ruggiero (2017) points out that violence can be divided into authorised (institutional) and unauthorised (anti-institutional) violence. The former is associated with authority, the state or its agents, employing force (e.g., law-making violence); whereas the latter is a form of unauthorised violence which is aimed at the authority. Frederic Bastiat (1998) expressed a similar view where the only difference between state and non-state violence is the level of state authority assigned to it so that he differentiated legal plunder (legalised theft, also known as tariffs, protection, benefits, subsidies, encouragements, or progressive taxation amongst others) and illegal plunder. Terrorism sits at the end of the spectrum of violence and is viewed by Ruggiero (2017), as a pure form of violence. It can be defined as an exercised form of organised force imposed on a mass scale on civilians (ibid.). Frederic Bastiat (1998) perceived law as a force; as much as a concealed power. Bastiat represented a view that (the state’s) law has to be moral in the way that it cannot contradict natural law. In other words, it must be aligned with social normativity. Otherwise, considering the immorality of law people, in his view, have a cruel alternative, if they follow such law, of either losing their moral sense or losing their respect for that law.

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Limitations Previous research relating to militarism and militarisation focused on specific social problems connected to these concepts. Whereas the militarisation of behaviours emphasises the holistic approach in studying militarisation and other relevant processes discussed here. Nonetheless, due to the complexity of this theory, its practical applications are somewhat limited at present. To tackle that, more work is required to establish a protocol for asserting a level and extent of the employment of the militarisation of behaviours in those states that will be studied. Such protocol could be in the form of a list of comparators for a more explicit juxtaposition of at least two countries on the grounds of the implementation of the militarisation of behaviours. Kilcommins et al. (2004) stress theories cannot encapsulate every variation. This is not the point; the main idea is to gain a theoretical tool allowing us to effectively describe and examine social realities. Overall, one element which was intentionally omitted in the discussion on the militarisation of behaviours relates to the covert affairs of the state in the form of intelligence, espionage, and counterespionage. This is a topic in its right and would require a discussion on its development, which is beyond the framework of this book. Thus, only some elements of the state’s surveillance techniques have been considered here. Nonetheless, some of these techniques used to observe citizens would not work for the state, if these were not supplemented with intelligence and the actions of the state’s special forces. Many popular social theories originated or referred to matters happening in Britain. It is a truism that Britain (or any other country for that matter) is not a representative of the world and that everything that is happening in the world will not necessarily replicate itself in Britain. So, not every social process observed in Britain will be seen elsewhere, and vice versa. That is often forgotten by theorists and researchers in countries with a colonial past. On that note, I caution everyone about the over generalisations that one can make based on my research. I have tried to do my best to present my argument relating to the process of the militarisation of behaviours as one that is compelling and probable. Also,

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I attempted to demonstrate that the process itself is present and applicable elsewhere (in states and places outside of Ireland and Poland), even though I would prefer for that not to be the case. However, the process does not have to be employed everywhere. And, importantly, when it is used, its magnitude and forcefulness might vary.

External and Internal Reasons for Employing the Militarisation of Behaviours Having discussed the process of normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours, political-military leadership, decrees and their influence, early signs of militarisation, the normalisation of the process of the militarisation of behaviours, its limitations, and more generally adjustment to military life, it would be a worthwhile task to discuss briefly the rationale for employing the militarisation of behaviours by the state. When it comes to external reasons for the employment of the militarisation of behaviours, it is a social mechanism which can be employed by a colonial power to rein in its non-native territories. It can be, conversely, employed by a state which gained its independence at the expense of colonial power. The latter might be explained as a preparatory action against the possible future intervention of the colonial power to regain its control over that state. Whereas regarding internal reasons for the employment of the militarisation of behaviours, the militarisation of behaviours can be used as a tool against the internal powers which might be preparing for, or be at the brink of, a rebellion against the state employing that tool. As shown within the scope of the author’s research, it can also be used whenever the state’s officials are attuned to a military-like modus operandi and feel comfortable employing strict discipline as a model of governance.

A Different Point of View Discipline and other social mechanisms employed as part of the militarisation of behaviours resonate in society by creating a social and private response to that situation. Such a response to the militarisation

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of behaviours can be twofold. Firstly, one can adhere to the mode of behaviour devised by the state. Secondly, the same person can oppose it with varying forms of disappointment, ranging from a passive approach (e.g., by withstanding that treatment) to an active fight against the state on the other side of the spectrum. In any case, there is a price to be paid by that individual no matter which approach they choose. If a person is treated in a manner similar to the handling of soldiers (the militarisation of behaviours) and in case of active disobedience of those subjected to that treatment, the state’s officials can respond in a way resembling a military campaign against that person. Such an account is described by a well-known science-fiction writer and essayist Stanisław Lem (2016: 60–65). In his reprinted essay, Lem finally noticed in 1993 (four years after socialism collapsed in Poland) that he was no longer a fighter (or rather a guerrilla) of a Good Cause fighting amongst other writers with their enemy, the Polish People’s Republic (which symbolised all socialist countries). As part of that fight the writers, in Lem’s own words, camouflaged themselves with pseudonyms, masked allusion (or insinuation), pointed out their daggers drenched in poisonous irony at the totalitarian chest and sneered with words and songs with a belief (which could have been an illusion in the form of placebo) that they were fighting with the invisible enemy (the state). It was only then that Lem realised that the enemy fled, or instead crumbled like a sandcastle, and left those guerrillawriters militarised but without an enemy to fight with. No one, in his view, reported back to them with stand-down orders and collected their censorship-piercing ammunition. This left them aimless and resembling other trivial writers equipped only with their banal prose. That very vivid and exaggerated account demonstrates how much time must pass before one realises what has happened (when one was exposed to the militarisation of behaviours), but it is only the case if one has a revelation like that. The mechanism of social control which was engraved on people’s behaviours does not disappear completely and definitely not overnight. Sometimes, people still have a problem acknowledging such specific occurrences in their lives. That was the case with several socialist academics and their professional successors who were (and some still are) reluctant to admit that organised crime existed in the PPR (Kaucz, 2019). One alternative explanation is that since the mechanism exists

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and works in accordance with its principles any side mechanism might be relaxed to create a feeling that there is no longer a need to oppose it.

Conclusions This book has collected some historical traces of the militarisation of behaviours. I tried to demonstrate connections between several concepts and create foundations for a more detailed discussion about them. To reiterate, the militarisation of behaviours is a process that was discovered and discussed from a historical point of view of the development of the Irish and Polish criminal justice systems. It relates to a process of social control by which a state (or a non-state actor) tries to make people obedient. This way citizens are treated in a manner resembling the treatment of soldiers by the army. The historical impact of the militarisation of behaviours was discussed extensively, and one of the take-home messages from this book is that the militarisation of behaviours is a process that was (and still is) present, with different intensities in many states (in Poland, Ireland, and in other states). It is a process which is not readily observable, especially by insiders immersed in it for a length of time. The militarisation of behaviours is a powerful and overwhelming mechanism. When employed, it limits the number of opportunities an individual has in their life. As emphasised by Bauman (2012), a quest for order created by humans leads to a limitation of life choices and tools of social control (like the militarisation of behaviours) can be used for such a purpose. The militarisation of behaviours is a dangerous process as it combines very influential elements of social control mechanisms which, when used together can change behaviours and obscure the flow of democratic processes. For the last decade, the militarisation of behaviours started to become a process which is used more often by private entities whereas before it was employed predominantly by states. This book is an answer to the call issued by Pieter Spierenburg (2004) to study and analyse how structures of social control influence behaviours, especially in a comparative manner. Since the state has a limited capacity to control crime (Garland, 1996), state officials might

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want to rely on other forms of social control, like the militarisation of behaviours. Responding to a call made by Byrne et al. (2016), this book places more emphasis on the state than on individuals and tries to pinpoint actions of elites which can be treated potentially as crimes against civilian citizens. Stavrianakis and Selby (2012) are of the view that a systematic study of militarism (and international relations) is not seen in academia anymore. This book thus tried to fill this gap by re-engaging with and reinstating a discussion on the importance of militarism and militarisation (of behaviours) with the creation and running of the state and shaping of criminal law and, more broadly, the criminal justice systems. This book is not a story about a military build-up and simple expression of militarism happening at the state level. One of the assumptions behind introducing a state of affairs resembling a military conflict is that war creates conditions when rules are suspended. When the process of the militarisation of behaviours is employed long enough, people respond to it and become more obedient. While the propaganda injects narratives into the public sphere, those same people start to gradually buy into it. Therefore, the diversity of informational sources is so important. The militarisation of behaviours occurs when the state is imposing on its citizens’ behaviours, which would pacify their independence and integrity. When the militarisation of behaviours is employed, it is a sign of a weak state. As noted by Garland (1996), punitiveness might be seen as a sign of power, but it is an indicator of a frail authority and deficient controls. The militarisation of behaviours extends beyond a simple vision of tools of social control that try to achieve an awfully specific goal, like censoring and limiting exposure to material which is not acceptable by the state officials. The militarisation of behaviours operates in a public sphere and its overall goal is to force people to behave in a way that is deemed appropriate by the state officials or other bodies employing it. The militarisation of behaviours acts like an extension of all the correctional processes employed by the state as part of the criminal justice system which might lead to obedience to that state. At the edges of this process, there is a threat that more robust treatment in a form of the criminal justice system might be launched towards those not obeying. As a result, it is worthwhile for the state to control the

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system which is dispensing judgments (i.e., the courts, judges, prisons, custodial supervisors, and more generally the criminal justice system) to coerce the obedient and deliver on promises on major consequences in a form of severe punishment to the disobedient. That can be achieved by the politicisation of the judges and courts. As part of that politicisation, direct control over those involved in issuing judgments is the key to being able to deliver on that promise of severe punishment.

The Militarisation of Behaviours in Ireland The militarisation of behaviours is an instrument which was tested out in the conditions of war chaos, and it can often be retained afterwards when the war is over. This process of the militarisation of behaviours was also seen in Ireland which is a militarily neutral country, and which technically was not at war during WWII. Ireland is an excellent example of a state which employed elements of the militarisation of behaviours. Owing to the Emergency Powers Act 1939, the Republic of Ireland implemented some elements of the militarisation of behaviours via this legal instrument. This act was enacted to tackle some WWII issues, nonetheless, some of its parts were never formally lifted. Also, some of the legal tools of the Emergency Powers Act were used in Ireland during Northern Ireland’s Troubles as the state’s response to it. Here, a chapter was devoted entirely to a history of social control in Ireland between 1916 and 1998. A major part of that chapter is considering a history of coercive confinement. In it, a comprehensive literature review was carried out concerning all forms of total institutions in Ireland during that period (the direct provision facilities were excluded since these were set up after 1998). A section of that mentioned chapter is devoted to gendered experiences of punishment in Ireland. Females were punished disproportionately due to the perception of their role in Irish society. That was also discussed in the context of the theory of ‘state as a parent’. As noted, the process of the militarisation of behaviours works well with the elements of organised crime due to the nature and characteristics of the organised groups and the process itself. Also, any emergency legislation that is kept longer than initially required—especially when the

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emergency that triggered it passed—has a tendency to be used against organised crime. One such example is the Irish case of enactment and maintenance of the emergency provisions of the Offences Against the State Act 1939 (OASA). In Ireland, the militarisation of behaviours, one might question, was employed as a result of the emergence of paramilitary groups. Nonetheless, a strong opposite stance might also be defended that since the state employed the militarisation of behaviours people responded to that process by engaging with the paramilitary organisations.

The Militarisation of Behaviours and Globalisation in the Contemporary Context Globalisation allowed for a greater spread of tools of social control, but it does not necessarily mean that globalisation is the key factor in facilitating the militarisation of behaviours. Related to the above is the way globalisation and other forces (including non-state international players) are shaping or using militarism for their benefits and advances. The impact of globalisation on processes like the militarisation of behaviours or the introduction of panopticon techniques is becoming more common in contemporary states and societies. One of the more important features of contemporary social relations is the possibility of alerting (via means of diverse mass media and social media) a substantial number of people in society about a specific action of the state and means to support those claims are more available as well. So, one of the options for the state and its officials is to go undercover with some of their actions, especially those that will help preserve the state’s integrity and impose some of the elements of social control on its population. The subtler the forms are the better it is long-term for that state. As otherwise, people (if alerted about those state’s deeds) might actively oppose those and seek a change in power, by removal of those who would be identified as responsible. That said, one of the main reasons for the state’s officials to act secretively is the element of discoverability and public liability for those actions. In case, when an action will be publicly exposed the person still might have some options to cover their tracks. Only when a specific

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deed is discovered and connected to someone specific, that person might be held accountable for their actions (or rather wrongdoings). So, the punishment carries a political weight which might politically attract some people.

Propaganda, Disinformation, and the Militarisation of Information The contemporary militarisation of behaviours seems to be related more often to disinformation than the propaganda itself. Both are useful tools to subdue their citizens or to incite people to volt in a foreign country. Propaganda might be defined as a manipulative version of organised persuasive communication (Bakir et al., 2019). In their work on the UK military, Adey et al. (2016) discuss different manners in which boundaries are blurred within the military and how the military is transformed by all of the new forms of communication (especially, social media). Social media, in their view, produces “a diverse set of flows, conduits, and spaces through which military lives are now lived, expressed, and debated” (ibid.: 8). Wylie (2019) notes that the most important element in the current digital warfare is an imbalance of information and an asymmetry between the digital company and its user where the company knows so much more about its user than vice versa. That is the case, for example, with the controversy around the use of the spying software known as Pegasus which unfolded in Spain, Poland, and other European countries in 2022. In his book covering the story behind the infamous Cambridge Analytica, Wylie (2019) mentioned the idea which can be referred to as the militarisation of information. It can be defined as a process in which information is used by a state or an organisation (which might be working for the state) to spread false information amongst targeted populations. That can be done by creating narratives or counternarratives. It can be treated as an informational weapon used to misinform the foreign population. This process might be used to destabilise a specific state or region by inciting an uprising or mass protests. The militarisation of behaviours as a process is directed inwardly towards the population

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within a state. Whereas the militarisation of information is a process which is pointed out frequently outwardly at the foreign population. One of the side aims of the militarisation of behaviours is to detach a portion of a population from the rest by a virtue of differentiation. It is a similar state to that felt by soldiers returning from the front. They might feel detached from the rest based on their experiences. In the case of the militarisation of behaviours, the aim is to create a common set of experiences which will differentiate a section of a society from the rest and at the same time act as a bonding platform for those integrated into that sectioned group. That said, once a person is effectively subdued to the militarisation of behaviours, that person would have great difficulty readjusting when circumstances change. How is that connected with the discussion on homogenisation or harmonisation of society? It is about the homogenisation of most of the society and scapegoating the rest on a portion of that society, possibly on the minority. For example, China is doing that to the Muslims in their country by using the Xinjiang internment camps to ‘re-socialise’ Uyghurs and other Muslim minorities. This is why even though the book is primarily discussing the Polish and Irish legal and social context, the theory related to the militarisation of behaviours can be applied in other circumstances and it is a versatile and panoptic process which was shown in the book. As already noted, several strong indicators are confirming my suspicion that there is a possibility of the employment of that process outside of Ireland and Poland. However, it does not mean that it is employed everywhere. When utilised it will be done with varying degrees of success. The publication will be a timely one. During a global pandemic is it more obvious than ever that states are using tools of social control from the toolbox of the militarisation of behaviours to subdue their citizens. During ordinary times, the normalisation of the militarisation of behaviours assists in the smooth incorporation of all processes of the militarisation of behaviours within a state employing it. Whereas the global pandemic and its abrupt character exposed some of the attempts by certain states to suppress their populations. Most of the tools of social control used for that purpose are related to the process of the militarisation of behaviours.

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The Covid pandemic exaggerated the response of some of the state officials in states (like the United Kingdom or Poland) towards its citizens where freedoms were limited, and legislation changed. I do not mean a limitation of freedom by the introductions of lockdowns, but permanent changes in the legislation leading towards curtailment of personal freedoms due to the legislative substitutions which will be maintained in the post-pandemic era by these states. Due to the frequency of changes in the legislation (sometimes occurring days apart from one another) which meant to relate directly to Covid-19, it was hard for ordinary people to keep up with these legislative initiatives. That allowed the legislators to introduce more norms into drafts of the Covid-related legislation than was needed from the point of view of the pandemic.

Recommendations Building on the findings presented in this book, it would be a worthy task to study the militarisation of behaviours in post-1989 Poland and post-1998 Ireland and examine the contemporary impact, as there are several indicators that this process is still utilised.1 One could look through the prism of the militarisation of behaviours at the contemporary situation in other states. Such an investigation would be informative in asserting the level of implementation of the militarisation of behaviours elsewhere. It would be beneficial to investigate how the elements of the militarisation of behaviours entered the public sphere of life and are being used currently to influence opinions and dominate narratives. A followup investigation will be required on some of the early indications of the use of the process of the militarisation of behaviours in its contemporary forms in states like Great Britain (Cambridge Analytica and Brexit), the United States (the gamification of the military), France (a constant presence of the army in the public life), Russia (cyber warfare, troll farms, and

1 In Poland, one stark example relates to equipping citizens with semi-automatic guns as part of the Territorial Defence Force (established in 2015).

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the use of the “Gerasimov doctrine”), and China (an ever-present surveillance programme known as ‘Smart Cities’). In a similar vein, it would be welcomed to study further how the contemporary authoritarian states are using some of the tools of the militarisation of behaviours and compare it with the use of these tools by the democratic states. Such a scholarly investigation would contribute to a better understanding of how contemporary societies are governed (especially considering the digital sphere of life) and citizens within these societies are treated. Also, it would potentially result in citizens becoming more informed and empowered about processes relating to the militarisation of behaviours. So that the same citizens can find themselves in a better position to make decisions relating to their lives; and to be able to influence the level of surveillance that they are subjected to at present. Digital spaces can be another avenue into which further research can be extended. That could potentially lead to an examination of the contemporary forms of the militarisation of behaviours within and outside of the digital world. The globalisation of societies is bringing people from different countries and regions together. That creates opportunities for social progress but also produces conditions where these spaces are used and abused by states and organisations wanting to militarise behaviours. The Cambridge Analytica scandal showcased that people’s data is being used to sway opinions and even more so to incite emotions which can trigger actions that a person might regret when emotions fade away. Within the context of the new digital wars, it would be worth looking at how these mechanisms are being used to influence opinions. Cyberwar is an indispensable element of any contemporary arms conflict. It can act as a foreground before any physical element of a potential military conflict starts. At present, a divide between the civil (inside processes) and military (outside interventions) is blurred if not gone completely. At the same time, cyber warfare entered the civil sphere of life and can be as disruptive as a physical military conflict. It would be a sensible investigation while the issue of Irish neutrality is discussed in the public sphere at the minute and the European landscape is changing rapidly.

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The research potential of the concept of the militarisation of behaviours lies in the way states might try to persuade their citizens to implant medical and data collecting devices into their bodies (transhumans) for convenience or health’s sake. There is a potential to make people more obedient by gathering information on their daily and nightly activities and using that data, for example, to increase or decrease the prices of goods or services (the mentioned ‘Smart Cities’ programme is being trialled in China right now). Moreover, this research can be extended into an examination of social transformation through digital technology when it comes to the role computer systems, data science, and cybersecurity play in the enforcement of the militarisation of behaviours and how digital technology and culture can facilitate that process.

Final Remarks In conclusion, the militarisation of behaviours is a complex process consisting of several mostly interlinked elements mentioned above. When employed by the state, civilians become subjected to a treatment which is similar to that designed by the army for its soldiers. For the state, the main aim of the militarisation of behaviours is to subdue its citizens. In the process of doing that, people’s lives are affected and subjected to the will of that state. The process of the militarisation of behaviours allows those who are implementing it to gain more power. Relevant here is that not all the mentioned elements of this process must take place at once to ascertain the militarisation of behaviours, as the militarisation of behaviours can be implemented only with the presence of some of its components. Whereas the employment of several of these elements by the state would be a good indicator that behaviours of those living in that state are becoming militarised.

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Glossary of Terms

As maintained by Zavrsnik (2013), the constabularisation of the military relates to the situation in which a military staff is deployed on a domestic or local level (separately or alongside a police force), or as part of a domestic security operation. Chronotopes Chronotope is a concept conceived by Mikhail Bakhtin (1981) which refers to spacetimes—conditions where space and time are becoming dense. Chronotopes are spatiotemporal (condensed temporalisation and spatialisation) features of social life which create favourable conditions for moments of significance to occur. The Criminology of the ‘Extraordinary’ It is a framework proposed by Kilcommins and Vaughan (2004) to discuss the gradual incorporation of extraordinary measures into the realm of ordinary crimes. It consists of several methods employed to tackle paramilitaries, but which are used in Ireland to deal with ordinary crime (inclusive of organised crime). Demilitarisation It is a reversal of the militarisation process. Demilitarisation occurs when the impact of the military on social matters is removed or when it diminishes (Carlton-Ford, 2017; Easton, 2017; Soanes et al., 2006). Desecuritisation Desecuritisation can be defined as shifting “issues out of emergency mode and into the normal bargaining processes of the political sphere” (Buzan et al., 1998: 4). Constabularisation

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3

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Glossary of Terms

Guilty knowledge entails professional secrecy and any information relating to how to function as a member of a specific profession as smoothly and as comfortable as possible. Government A central-level state’s representation (an executive branch consisting of state agents) is designed to inform, direct, and execute the state’s decisions. Hidden Curriculum For Rees, the hidden curriculum denotes “the unofficial values system that students learn through informal interaction in extracurricular activities” (Rees, 2007: 2122). The hidden curriculum together with the manifest or formal curriculum (Scott, 2014) is forming a comprehensive educational picture of how (ways in which) knowledge is transmitted to students. Martial Law Martial law is a rule by military authorities imposed when the ordinary governmental machinery breaks down (using invasion, civil war, or resurrection) (Gooch & Williams, 2007: 240). Militarisation Militarisation is a process when a state treats a specific part of a public sphere in a manner resembling army operations. The Militarisation of Behaviours The militarisation of behaviours is a term used by the author and denotes a (mass) process of social control employed by the state (and less often by other entities) where civilians are subjected to a treatment (employed by the state) similar to that designed for soldiers. Militarism Militarism is an inclination to look for military solutions and apply these to political problems and conflicts (Scott & Marshall, 2009: 472–473). Moments of Significance It is an umbrella term proposed by the author which is combining multifaceted concepts developed over the years. Moments of significance are these moments in time when a major change occurred in the structure and/or in the way the elements of the structure (within the model) considerably interacted with each other which resulted in an extensive change inside of the structure (between the elements of it). Moments of significance can be in the form of one action(s); a change of leadership of a major institution, or when one event triggers an unprecedented reaction of either populous or political classes. Moral Panics It is an overreaction of media coverage of certain social events (initially minor acts of social deviance) which lead towards labelling of a particular group of people (homogenous or not) and results in a further perpetuation of the media coverage and overreactions to that situation (Cohen, 2002; Johnson, 1995). Moral panics happen when “[a] condition, episode, person or group of persons emerges to become defined as a threat to societal values and interests” (Cohen, 2002: 1). Guilty Knowledge

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287

A predecessor of the Republic of Poland. The Polish People’s Republic was a satellite state under the direct rule of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) from 1952 until 1990. PPR was a communist regime supported by the Soviets after the Red Army WWII occupancy. The Red Army accommodated a change of the state’s boundaries just after the Second World War, and it was present on the Polish territory until 1993. Professionalism Professionalism is a normative system of values with particular meaning and functions which are utilised to create and retain the stability of the social system within and outside of a specific professional formation (Evetts, 2003). Securitisation Securitisation is a process which occurs when a securitising move occurs (by being brought to public attention and endorsed by a social actor), and it is accepted by a social audience under favourable conditions (or context) (Buzan et al., 1998). Securitisation occurs when a matter is securitised which is when an “issue is presented as an existential threat, requiring emergency measures and justifying actions outside the normal bounds of political procedure” (ibid.: 24–25). Social Drill A term proposed by the author which refers to social conditioning used by a state towards its citizens resting on military drill techniques. It is one of the elements of the process of the militarisation of behaviours. State’s Agents Officials who due to their role assigned by the state represent its interests at its different (central or local) levels (see: Government). Textbooks Textbooks are a primary source of information for students and novices to a specific discipline discussed in those textbooks. Textbooks contain some historical knowledge necessary for an introduction of some of the historically rooted and relevant information. Moreover, textbooks are a source of culturally embedded biases and values. More specifically, textbooks act as an important frame of reference and sources of bias against some of the information delivered to students of a specific branch of law. Some elements of the hidden curriculum appear in textbooks (see also: Hafferty & Castellani, 2009). Polish People’s Republic (PPR)

References

Bakhtin, M. M. (1981). The dialogic imagination: Four essays. University of Texas Press. Buzan, B., Wæver, O., & Wilde, J. de. (1998). Security: A new framework for analysis. Lynne Rienner Pub. Carlton-Ford, S. (2017). Militarism and development. In P. Joseph (Ed.), The SAGE encyclopedia of war: Social science perspectives. Sage Publications, Inc. https://doi.org/10.4135/9781483359878.n411 Cohen, S. (2002). Folk devils and moral panics: The creation of the Mods and Rockers (3rd ed.). Routledge. Easton, M. (2017). Military policing. In P. Joseph (Ed.), The SAGE encyclopedia of war: Social science perspectives. SAGE Publications, Inc. https://doi.org/10. 4135/9781483359878.n423 Evetts, J. (2003). The sociological analysis of professionalism: Occupational change in the modern world. International Sociology, 18(2), 395–415. https://doi.org/10.1177/0268580903018002005 Gooch, G., & Williams, M. (2007). A dictionary of law enforcement. Oxford University Press. Hafferty, F. W., & Castellani, B. (2009). The hidden curriculum: A theory of medical education. In Handbook of the sociology of medical education (pp. 15– 35). Routledge. © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3

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Johnson, A. G. (1995). Military-industrial complex. In The Blackwell dictionary of sociology: A user’s guide to sociological language (pp. 177–178). Blackwell. Kilcommins, S., & Vaughan, B. (2004). A perpetual state of emergency: Subverting the rule of law in Ireland. Cambrian Law Review, 35, 55–80. Rees, C. R. (Ed.). (2007). High school sports. In The Blackwell encyclopedia of sociology (pp. 2121–2122). Blackwell Pub. Scott, J. (2014). Hidden curriculum. In A dictionary of sociology (4th ed., pp. 307–308). Oxford University Press. Scott, J., & Marshall, G. (Eds.). (2009). A dictionary of sociology (3rd ed. rev.). Oxford University Press. Soanes, C., Hawker, S., & Elliott, J. (Eds.). (2006). Paperback Oxford English dictionary (2nd ed.). Oxford University Press. Zavrsnik, A. (2013). Blurring the line between law enforcement and intelligence: Sharpening the gaze of surveillance? Journal of Contemporary European Research, 9 (1), 181–202.

Index

A

An Gárda Síochána 80, 103, 105, 108, 110, 130 army 26, 57, 268, 279 army operations 286 Home Army 25, 33, 38, 265 Polish People’s Army 24, 36, 38, 57, 58 Red Army 27, 34, 35, 125, 287 asylum 101, 108, 109, 219 Australia 72 Austria 19–21 authoritarianism 113, 131, 229, 233 bureaucratic authoritarianism 196

B

Behavioural Study of Obedience 194 Belfast 82, 83 Brehon laws 71

bureaucracy 2, 187, 189, 194, 195, 213, 235, 259 bureaucratic mechanisms 90 bureaucratic structures 2, 94, 187, 189, 196, 202, 259 bureaucrats 137, 196 social drill. See military drill social machinery 187, 189, 197, 199, 206

C

camps 25, 26 boot camps 218 concentration camps 228 internment camps 50, 74, 81, 84, 278 labour camps 25 military reconditioning camps 218

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2022 B. Kaucz, The Militarisation of Behaviours, Critical Criminological Perspectives, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16601-3

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Index

military re-socialisation camps 218 Nazi death camps 25 Catholic Church 5, 9, 88–90, 103, 106, 108, 110 Catholicism 4, 88, 91, 103 Celtic fringe 72 censorship 27, 48, 74, 96–99, 102, 149, 204, 206, 208, 246, 272 censorship apparatus 110 China 10, 278, 280, 281 chronotopes 61, 109, 187, 241, 285 chronotopic 218 spacetimes 61, 217, 218, 241, 268, 285 spatiotemporal 203, 218, 285 suspension in time and space 187, 217 civilians 42 civilian morale 131, 134, 201, 222, 229 civil rights 50, 87, 91, 102 civil-military 60, 160 civil-military divide 143 coercion 97 coercive assimilation 205 state coercion 269 structured coercion 189 coercive confinement 70, 78, 100, 101, 103, 105, 109–111, 275 colonialism 8, 149 communism 6, 26, 39, 40, 44, 46, 48 Communist Poland 2, 6 community 10, 45, 93, 102, 106, 141, 142, 144, 214, 232 community healthcare 268 community of destiny 142 community policing 172

mental maps 240 conditioning 114 constabularisation 161, 285 constitution 227 Bunreacht na hÉireann 73 constitutional provisions 9, 156 constitutional rights 77, 82 Constitution of Ireland. See Bunreacht na hÉireann Constitution of Poland 23, 35, 50, 89 Constitutional Tribunal in Poland 4, 262 counterintelligence 173 crime 97, 99, 105, 113, 115, 162, 165, 167, 173, 200 crime against peace 206 crime complex 75 crime control 100, 158, 204 fear of crime 240 organised crime vii, 40, 45, 63, 83, 86, 216, 240, 264, 272, 275 criminalisation 105, 111, 195, 230, 231, 240 criminology 48, 156, 163 criminology of the ‘extraordinary’ 86, 285 critical military studies 145, 266

D

daily indoctrination 187, 205, 208 death penalty 21, 22, 30, 32, 37, 42, 43, 46, 74, 78, 82, 84 capital punishment 78 death sentence. See death penalty

Index

decrees vii, 2, 6, 7, 22, 24, 30, 31, 33–35, 37–40, 50, 52, 262, 271 dehumanisation 92, 93, 159, 187, 196, 204, 205, 210, 211, 216, 230 de legel ferenda 46 delegitimisation 230 democratisation 131, 160 de-democratisation 172 dependency. See state as a substitute parent desensitisation 187, 206, 213, 216 distancing 216 numbing 216 de-Stalinisation 45, 47 de Valera, Éamon 78, 91 development 149 dictatorship over the poor. See militarisation of urban marginality differentiation 212 discipline. See military discipline; social discipline discrimination 125 anti-discrimination 85, 111 systemic discrimination 93 disenchantment 159, 187, 206, 213, 216, 237 disengagement 231 disinformation. See propaganda dividuals 268 docile bodies 61 Dublin 75, 83 Dublin Parliament 71

E

education 103, 150, 152

293

emigration 92 English laws 71 European Community 111 European Union 4, 73, 111 executions 78 mass executions 38 military executions 74

F

family 29, 91, 102, 103, 105, 106, 109, 110, 142, 203, 243, 268 family relations 154 family roles 108 father figure 7, 28, 29, 104, 109, 203 paterfamilias 203 women’s subordination 104, 107, 110 fear-mongering 187, 205, 209 five-year plans 63 folk devil 164, 166, 176, 264 France 113, 128, 279

G

globalisation 9, 60, 276, 280 gossip 108, 218 government 6, 23, 55, 71, 75, 128, 160, 196, 206, 216, 227, 241, 246, 286 anti-government 50 government issue 221 grassroots 160, 166 Great Britain 72, 73, 90, 98, 113, 175, 228, 241, 245, 246, 270, 279 guilty knowledge vi, vii, 236, 286

294

Index

H

L

Heavy Gang 95 hidden curriculum vi, 286, 287 homogenisation 179, 213, 214, 247, 257, 278 social homogeneity 187, 214–216 homosexuality 111 commuting to homosexuality 241 human trafficking 102 hyperproduction 180

language. See military language army language 221 colonial language 223 dehumanising language 173 derogatory language 187, 260 euphemisms 225 Irish language 90, 96 martial rhetoric 224 metaphors 225 military language 223, 224, 226 military references 244 mitigating language 225 narratives 226 soldier expressions 221 soldier fashion expressions 221 soldiers habitual expressions 221 leadership 137 duality of leadership 128 masculinised political leadership 158 military leadership 3, 40, 54–57, 59–61, 127, 132, 137, 192, 271 political leadership 3 political-military leadership 54, 56, 59, 271 legal systems 188 legislation Soviet legislation 22, 30 Lem, Stanisław 3 liquid modernity. See militarisation of behaviours-blurring lines

I

imagined communities 62, 140, 194, 212 imagined geographies 212 imperialism 8, 80 indifference 187, 206, 213, 215, 237 indoctrination. See daily indoctrination institutionalisation 102, 103 women’s subordination 104, 107, 110 institutionalised fear. See fear-mongering insubordination 45, 132, 231 internment. See internment camps Ireland 2, 4, 5, 8–10, 71, 73, 76, 78, 80, 87, 88, 91, 93, 103, 111, 113 Irish Free State 4, 74, 78, 80, 94, 102, 114 Saorstát Éireann 73 J

Jaruzelski, Wojciech (General) 57, 61

M

managerialism 200, 235 martial politics. See militarisation masculinity 29, 155

Index

maximum-security society 239 militant trade unionism. See bureaucracy militarisation. See militarisation of behaviour anti-communism militarisation 148 demilitarisation 130, 131, 145, 146, 148, 159–162, 179, 180, 285 economic militarisation 149 gendered militarisation 154, 155 grassroots demilitarisation 160 limitations 270 militarisation by other means 154, 156 militarisation of education 151 militarisation of information 277 militarisation of policing 162 militarisation of the public sphere 188, 238, 239 militarisation of urban marginality 156, 157, 203, 212 militarisation of urban spaces 148 post-militarisation states 242 praetorianism 149 praetorian militarisation 149 social militarisation 149 warning signs 263 militarisation of behaviours 3, 7, 13, 28, 40, 44, 48, 50, 52, 60, 61, 90, 92, 104, 107, 115, 123, 125, 133, 134, 140, 141, 157, 159, 174, 175, 180, 188, 193, 205, 207, 234, 239, 242, 244, 258, 271, 286 adjustment to military-like life 265

295

blurring lines 171, 180 implementation of the militarisation of behaviours xiii, 2, 5–7, 53, 57, 194, 221, 224, 244, 246, 264, 270, 279 militarisation of behaviours in Ireland 275 militarisation of Polish state railways 37 militarisation of the police 148 militarisation of the public sphere vii, 2, 192, 239, 241, 243, 259 normalising the militarisation of behaviours 2, 87, 140, 153, 171, 188, 211, 235, 243, 247, 264 militarised society 126 militarism 13, 135, 145, 150, 177, 286 militarization. See militarisation military 60, 62, 124, 145, 161 duel 143 ex-military personnel 244 flying martial courts 22 martial courts 51 martial enterprise 158, 159 martial rhetoric 224 mass conscription 136, 267 massive call to arms 128 military build-up 147, 179, 274 military conflict 125, 265, 267, 274, 280 military courts 23, 32, 37–39, 41, 42, 46, 50, 51, 74, 78, 84 military culture 114, 123–125, 134–136, 143, 149, 187, 222, 223, 226, 231, 232, 244, 259, 262, 264, 267 military custody. See internment

296

Index

military discipline 27, 38, 50, 83, 245, 259 military drill. See social drill military honour 131, 144 military ideology 131, 133, 146, 147, 220, 225 military imaginary. See military service military–industrial–academic complex 151 military-industrial complex 150 military influence 4, 10, 12, 13, 125, 131, 146, 160 military language 2, 3, 114, 125, 187, 221, 223, 225, 226, 232, 244, 259, 261 military leadership 3, 40, 54–57, 59–61, 127, 132, 137, 192, 271 military morale 131–134, 137, 142, 201, 202, 222, 242 military organisation of society 3 military organisations 126 military references and language 244 military service 129, 133, 134, 139, 141, 150, 236 military serviceperson 242 military society 61 military-society relationship 129 military systems 127 military trade unionism 189 military tradition 141 military training 150, 242 military values 131, 133, 135, 140, 153, 262 military weapons 113 militias 151 militocracy 57

paramilitary organisations 76, 81, 83, 86, 87, 96, 114, 115, 240, 242, 245, 276, 285 politeness phenomena 225 political-military leadership 54, 56, 59, 271 private military companies 242 soldiers 27, 139, 141 soldiers’ nostalgia 266 soldiers-sociologists 135 state of war 52 military-industrial complex. See militarisation moments of significance vi, 29, 163, 174, 177, 286 moral panics 86, 87, 124, 133, 143, 163, 165–168, 174–177, 187, 206, 210, 244, 286

N

nationalism. See bureaucracy national security 97, 144, 155, 156, 162, 173, 235 national security state 172 Nazi 33, 36, 38, 261 Nazi Germany 260, 261 Netherlands 128, 138 NKVD 6, 27, 34 norms 230 anti-paramilitary legislation 87 blanket norms 260 conflicts of law 20 hard law 2, 7, 89, 188, 218, 220, 230, 231, 259 martial law 40, 42, 50–52, 54, 61, 74, 135, 201, 208, 228, 241, 286 Nazi legislation 22

Index

paramilitary legislation 87 principles of law 21 soft law 2, 7, 89, 188, 220, 230–232, 259 sources of a formation of law 19 sunset clause 79 vacation legis 262 Northern conflict. See Troubles Northern Ireland 81, 87, 96, 114 North Korea 149

O

OASA. See Offences Against the State Act 1939 obedience 61, 78, 90 objectification 159, 222–224, 226 Offences Against the State Act 1939 75, 85 official criminal statistics 104 crime figures 104 crime rates 109 cuffing 240 low crime rates 99 Oireachtas 75, 82, 83, 97 Irish Parliament 82 oppression 30, 33, 43, 61, 213 othering 92–94, 129, 210–212, 214, 230, 242 otherness 187

P

panopticon 105, 239, 276 auto-surveillance 239 ban-opticon 105, 239 liquid surveillance 239 self-scrutiny 239 synopticon 239

297

partition Irish Partition 8, 72, 80, 91, 98, 114 Polish Partition 4, 19, 29 social partitioning 242 paternalism 97 patriotic warrior. See social drill patriotism 129, 140, 156 PCNL 24, 25, 30, 34, 35 permanent liminality 109, 217 permeation of military and civil spheres 131 Poland 2–6, 10, 20, 22, 26, 29, 34, 38, 44, 73, 88, 277 policing 73, 87 Polish Committee of National Liberation. See PCNL Polish People’s Republic. See PPR political duality. See duality of leadership postliminium 21 PPR 2, 25–27, 30, 33, 36, 38, 39, 41, 47, 52, 53, 58, 61 president 4, 85 President of France 145 President of Ireland 4, 85 President of Poland 4 President of South Korea 205 President of the Provisional Government of National Unity 34 President of the United States 150, 151 prisons 24, 26, 32, 45, 76, 100, 105, 114, 203, 275 professions v, vi, 90, 153, 236, 245 legal professions v, vii, 234, 236 military professionalisation 236

298

Index

military professionalism 57, 70, 138 military professionals 84 professionalisation 2, 57, 87, 129, 130, 136, 137, 153, 188, 211, 234, 235, 237, 238, 259 professionalism 136, 234–236, 287 professionals v, vi, 188, 211, 216, 220, 234–236, 238, 245 propaganda 2, 98, 149, 187, 205–207, 209–211, 213, 246, 274, 277 war propaganda 206 proto-states 161 Prussia 19 public sphere. See militarisation of the public sphere

R

recall 218 repressions 74, 173 repressionism 46 rhizome 125, 235 Russia 8, 19, 279

S

SCC. See Special Criminal Court Secret Security 25 securitisation 2, 13, 57, 124, 126, 143, 148, 165, 169, 176–178, 259, 287 desecuritisation 171, 179, 285 militarisation of the police 148 security service 24, 26, 27, 34, 40, 51 security studies 156, 170, 172

self-help 231, 232 self-regulation 231 separation of powers 82, 261 SMERSH 27, 125, 238 social cauterisation 204 social compliance 89, 92, 93, 187, 206, 213–216, 237 social conditioning. See bureaucracy social control xiii, 1, 2, 7, 26, 45, 49, 92, 96, 100, 104, 105, 114, 123, 125, 136, 138, 188, 189, 193, 200, 231 culture of control 200 military mechanisms of control 231 spatialisation of social control 240 social differentiation 187, 205, 210, 211, 214 social disorganisation 157 social drill. See military drill social discipline 39, 200, 262 socialisation 101 social machinery 114, 187, 189, 197, 199, 206 social relegation. See social compliance socio-legal studies 156 sociology 48 soldiers 42, 123, 125, 129 Solidarity 52, 57 South Korea 148, 154 Soviet 4, 8, 19, 25, 30, 32, 37–39, 43, 53, 57, 60, 149, 261 Special Commission for Combating Economic Abuses and Corruption 31, 36 Special Criminal Court 77–79, 83, 86

Index

standardisation of experiences 107, 187, 189 standardising behaviours in public spaces 192 Stanford Prison Experiment 194 state as a substitute parent 3, 107, 159, 187, 189, 191, 192, 203, 275 state of exception 79, 87, 188, 197, 226, 227, 229 emergency legislation 70, 87, 188, 230, 275 emergency powers 74, 75, 78–80, 82, 84 extraordinary legislation 77, 81, 86 extraordinary powers 86, 87 state of emergency 75–77, 79, 80, 82, 84, 86, 155, 228, 264 threshold of violence 227 state’s agents 287 state solidification 130 St. Vincent de Paul Society 89 successful degradation ceremonies 100, 219, 220 supergrass policy 81 Supreme Court in Ireland 4 surveillance 2, 101, 188, 232, 233, 239, 259

299

state terror 245 terrorism 46, 77, 81, 86, 91, 112, 165, 224, 232, 233, 269 terrorist 242, 244 terrorist decrees 36 universal terror 26 war atrocities 242 war on terror 152, 162 war terror 261 textbooks 17, 21, 22, 31, 281, 287 criminal law textbooks vi legal textbooks 30 theatricalisation 204 Third Wave 194 togetherness 193, 266, 267 torture 95, 194, 201, 204, 213, 267 total institutions 100, 101, 106, 219, 275 totalitarianism 49, 227 Training Corps Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (JROTC) 151 Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC) 151 transcarceration 100 transhumans 281 Troubles 8, 9, 76, 77, 80, 96, 113, 275

U T

terror 26, 36, 39, 261 anti-terrorist 264 counter-terrorism 240 normalisation of counter-terror 240 permanent state of terror 232 spatialisation of fear 240

Ulsterisation 81 uniformity. See homogenisation United Kingdom 8, 77, 81 unmarried mothers 101, 102, 106, 109 USA 134, 146, 151, 154, 228, 279 USSR 6, 24, 34, 36, 37, 44, 47, 58, 238

300

Index

political violence 73, 76, 114, 146, 264, 269 state violence 141, 179, 187, 194, 195, 197, 269 structured violence 189, 200 unauthorised violence 269 violence of war 216

V

violence 1, 73, 79, 97, 110, 125, 126, 144, 157, 172, 195, 198, 227, 238 authoritarian statism 195 bureaucratic violence 194, 195 civil violence 76 fear of violence 240 monopoly on violence vii, 97, 232 non-state violence 269 paramilitary violence 112 police violence 157

W

WWII 18, 25, 29, 32, 38, 40, 75, 84, 98, 142, 146, 193, 222, 237, 275, 287