From the title of Malcolm Gladwell’s new book, one would not guess that criminology was to play a key role in his argument. And indeed, three quarters of the book focuses not on criminology but the psychology of deception. Gladwell, in his usual style, tells a series of fascinating stories that center on the fact that we often misread strangers. And his argument is a convincing one, taking us from such disparate incidents as American spy agencies getting it totally wrong re spies in Cuba (who were actually working for Castro), to Chamberlain misreading Hitler over and over again, to Bernard Madoff’s ability to fool lots of savvy people to investing with him, and to Amanda Knox, who was imprisoned for participating in the murder of her roommate (despite an absence of evidence). What links these stories is that over and over again, smart people were simply not able to get it right. Many times as in the case of Madoff, or Jerry Sandusky (who was found guilty of 45 counts of child molestation), it was that the “offenders” seemed innocent, and despite evidence to the contrary along the way, it took years to bring them to trial. In others, like the case of Amanda Knox, the subject acted guilty, and despite evidence to the contrary, the investigators and the courts took her seemingly “off” behavior as proof that something was wrong and she was guilty. While there is little criminology in the argument that Gladwell makes here, these chapters are a fantastic read, and they set up what will most likely be the most influential mainstreaming of criminological ideas so far in the twenty-first century. Gladwell begins his book with Sandra Bland, a young African American woman from Chicago, who had just gotten a job at Prairie View A&M University in Texas. On the afternoon of July 10, 2015, she went out to buy groceries and was pulled over to the side by a 30-year-old white police officer named Brian Encinia. He told her that she had failed to signal a lane change. Their interaction, which was captured by video, represented a series of miscommunications that led eventually to Ms. Bland being handcuffed, arrested, and then jailed. Three days later, she committed suicide in custody. Gladwell is clearly incensed by this story, and he begins by linking it to the broader crisis in the relationships between police and African Americans that was beginning to trouble the nation at the time. He recognizes at the outset that prejudice and racism have a key role to play in these problems, at the same time that he knows that police incompetence in specific cases is also a strong potential cause. But this is where Gladwell departs from the traditional competing arguments to understand policing gone wrong. And this is how talking to the stranger links to his more general argument. Simply stated, the stories in the earlier sections of the book set up his primary thesis: We are simply going to make a lot of mistakes in assessing strangers. This is true for practiced spies, prosecutors and judges, for the leaders of our financial system, and for the police. And he marshals a good deal of research to show this is true. So in this context, the Sarah Bland case is not an aberration. When police stop strangers, there is a good chance they are going to misunderstand the cues that are given by those stopped—both in terms of innocence and guilt.
Talking to Strangers: What We Should Know About the People We Don’t Know
- Journal Article
From the title of Malcolm Gladwell’s new book, one would not guess that criminology was to play a key role in his argument. And indeed, three quarters of the book focuses not on criminology but the psychology of deception. Gladwell, in his usual style, tells a series of fascinating stories that center on the fact that we often misread strangers. And his argument is a convincing one, taking us from such disparate incidents as American spy agencies getting it totally wrong re spies in Cuba (who were actually working for Castro), to Chamberlain misreading Hitler over and over again, to Bernard Madoff’s ability to fool lots of savvy people to investing with him, and to Amanda Knox, who was imprisoned for participating in the murder of her roommate (despite an absence of evidence). What links these stories is that over and over again, smart people were simply not able to get it right. Many times as in the case of Madoff, or Jerry Sandusky (who was found guilty of 45 counts of child molestation), it was that the “offenders” seemed innocent, and despite evidence to the contrary along the way, it took years to bring them to trial. In others, like the case of Amanda Knox, the subject acted guilty, and despite evidence to the contrary, the investigators and the courts took her seemingly “off” behavior as proof that something was wrong and she was guilty. While there is little criminology in the argument that Gladwell makes here, these chapters are a fantastic read, and they set up what will most likely be the most influential mainstreaming of criminological ideas so far in the twenty-first century. Gladwell begins his book with Sandra Bland, a young African American woman from Chicago, who had just gotten a job at Prairie View A&M University in Texas. On the afternoon of July 10, 2015, she went out to buy groceries and was pulled over to the side by a 30-year-old white police officer named Brian Encinia. He told her that she had failed to signal a lane change. Their interaction, which was captured by video, represented a series of miscommunications that led eventually to Ms. Bland being handcuffed, arrested, and then jailed. Three days later, she committed suicide in custody. Gladwell is clearly incensed by this story, and he begins by linking it to the broader crisis in the relationships between police and African Americans that was beginning to trouble the nation at the time. He recognizes at the outset that prejudice and racism have a key role to play in these problems, at the same time that he knows that police incompetence in specific cases is also a strong potential cause. But this is where Gladwell departs from the traditional competing arguments to understand policing gone wrong. And this is how talking to the stranger links to his more general argument. Simply stated, the stories in the earlier sections of the book set up his primary thesis: We are simply going to make a lot of mistakes in assessing strangers. This is true for practiced spies, prosecutors and judges, for the leaders of our financial system, and for the police. And he marshals a good deal of research to show this is true. So in this context, the Sarah Bland case is not an aberration. When police stop strangers, there is a good chance they are going to misunderstand the cues that are given by those stopped—both in terms of innocence and guilt.