R. A. Duff

This is a response to ten critiques of my 2018 book The Realm of Criminal Law, by Stephen Bero and Alex Sarch, Kim Ferzan, Stuart Green, Doug Husak, Nicola Lacey, Sandra Mayson, Victor Tadros, Patrick Tomlin, Alec Walen, and Gideon Yaffe. I take the opportunity to explain the main aims and themes of the book, to clarify some of its arguments, and to note some of the ways in which those arguments need expansion, development, or revision. Topics discussed include: the usefulness and limits of ‘rational reconstruction’ as a method of normative theorising; public wrongs and the scope of the criminal law; the idea of civil order as central to a political theory of criminal law; wrongness constraints on criminalization; mala prohibita and regulatory offences; the ‘De Minimis’ principle; and criminal law ‘abolitionism’.

I discuss two problems for the standard Anglo-American account of recklessness, and the distinctions between intention, recklessness, and negligence. One problem concerns the over-breadth of recklessness as thus defined—that it covers agents whose actions display different kinds of culpability. The other problem concerns the importance attached to awareness of risk in distinguishing recklessness from negligence—that one who is unaware of the risk that he takes or creates sometimes displays just the same kind of fault as an advertent risk-taker. We can work towards solutions to these problems by contrasting the Anglo-American schema with the German schema: this distinguishes intention from negligence. Dolus eventualis, properly understood, constitutes a distinctive kind of fault, which should be distinguished from advertent negligence within the category of what the Anglo-American schema counts as recklessness: this helps to solve the first problem, of over-breadth. As for the second problem, we can see why the difference between advertent and inadvertent risk-taking is not always normatively significant by noticing that an agent’s failure to realise the risk he is creating can itself display a significant fault in the structure of the practical reasoning that informs his action—just the same kind of fault as that displayed by an advertent risk-taker. The upshot of this discussion is a new schema of types of criminal fault; I finally note some problems with the practicability of such a new schema.

How can a system of criminal punishment be justified? In particular can it be justified if the moral demand that we respect each other as autonomous moral agents is taken seriously? Traditional attempts to justify punishment as a deterrent or as retribution fail, but Duff suggests that punishment can be understood as a communicative attempt to bring a wrong-doer to repent her crime. This account is supported by discussions of moral blame, of penance, of the nature of the law's demands, and of the proper meaning and purpose of the criminal process of trial and verdict: it deals both with the ideals that should inform a system of criminal law and the extent to which those ideals are actualised in existing institutions and practices. The conclusion is pessimistic: punishment cannot be justified within our legal system; and this gap between the ideal and the actual presents us with serious moral dilemmas

Discussions of responsibility typically focus on the person who is held responsible: what are the conditions or criteria of responsibility; what can be done to or demanded of a person who is responsible? This paper shifts focus onto those who hold, rather than those who are held, responsible: what do we owe to those whom we hold responsible? After distinguishing responsibility as answerability from responsibility as liability, it attends mainly to the former, and points out the ways in which it is multiply relational: I am responsible for something to someone who has the standing to call me to account for it, under the norms of some particular practice. Responsibility as thus understood is also reciprocal: if you are to be answerable to me, I must treat you with a certain respect, attend seriously to your answer, and be ready to answer to you myself. The paper explores some of the implications of this point both for our moral dealings with each other, and for criminal law and the criminal trial.

The idea that crimes can usefully be understood as ‘public wrongs’, and that this can generate a plausible principle of criminalisation, has found some support in recent years; it has also been subjected to some sharp criticism. This paper aims to sketch the most plausible version of that idea, and to show how, once properly explained, it is not vulnerable to those criticisms. After a brief defence of the negative principle, that we may not criminalise conduct that does not constitute a public wrong, it explains the positive principle, that we have reason to criminalise conduct if it constitutes a public wrong, by drawing an analogy between criminal law and codes of professional ethics, and by appealing to the idea of civil order, as the normative structure of a polity—a structure that criminal law helps both to constitute and to sustain. Four objections are then met: that this account implies an unacceptable relativism; that it distorts the reasons that bear on criminalisation; that it cannot make room for those who do not identify themselves with the polity in which they live; and that it implies an unrealistically demanding conception of what is required for a polity to exist.

I discuss some of the roles that lay people play in relation to the criminal law, and how that law should figure in their practical reasoning: this will also cast light on the place of criminal law in a democratic republic. The two roles discussed in this paper are those of citizen, and juror. Citizens should be able to respect the law as their law – as a common law; but this must be a critical respect, captured in the idea of ‘law abidance’ as a civic virtue. Jurors are tasked with making normative judgments of guilt or innocence, as part of a process through which those accused of criminal wrongdoing are called to answer to their fellow citizens: they must therefore be able to understand the law, and make it their own – which raises the question of whether jury nullification can be an appropriate response to unjust laws.

Jerome Bickenbach has provided a fair and sympathetic account of my argument in Trials and Punishments, and has clarified some of the book’s obscurities - for which I am very grateful: I will focus my response on his main objection to my account of punishment, since I am not persuaded that the objection holds.Bickenbach argues that my ideal account of what punishment ought to be if it is to be adequately justified would actually show, if it succeeds, that criminal punishment cannot be justified at all. ‘Criminal punishment, it would appear, is unjustifiable when it is needed, but justifiable only if it is no longer required’. It would be justifiable if it was imposed on a criminal who shared the values embodied in the laws of the true community to which she belonged: but it would then be unnecessary, since in such cases ‘blame alone’ would suffice for the communicative and persuasive purposes which punishment should ideally serve. It would be necessary if the criminal was a committed nonconformist who rejected the community’s values: but it would then be unjustifiable, since in such cases it could not serve the purposes which punishment should ideally serve.