(Reprinted from the newsletter of the American Society of Criminology, Division of Critical Criminology and Social Justice, 33(1), pp. 10-13, published June 3, 2025)
It is an honor to pay tribute to Vincenzo Ruggiero, a highly respected professor and criminologist at Middlesex University, who passed away earlier this year.
Not only was Vincenzo a colleague, but he was also my friend.
I’m not sure when I first met Vincenzo, but I was introduced to his scholarship shortly after earning my doctorate.
His work, especially Understanding Political Violence: A Criminological Approach (2006), Penal Abolitionism (2010), and Power and Crime (2017), has significantly impacted the field and my scholarship.
Vincenzo’s scholarship was meticulous, rigorous, thoughtful, and provocative. It is an excellent example of the type of articles, chapters, and books that shape our thinking and future scholarship.
Vincenzo had a rich history, full of meaningful experiences that predated his career as an academic. During the 1970s, he was “involved in penal reform campaigns [in Italy]. In 1976, he founded a bi-annual paper on prison issues, coordinating a network involving prisoners, their families, and reform activists, and in 1977 established a new publisher ‘Senza Galere’ (‘Without Prisons’) – later renamed ‘Ruggiero Edizioni’. The press mainly published fiction and poetry and all authors were prisoners serving a sentence or exprisoners. As Vincenzo suggested, this was surely an early example of ‘Convict Criminology’” (South, 2024), a field I co-founded three decades ago.
These works are a testament to his ability to combine his practical work and politics with his scholarship.
My relationship with Vincenzo deepened when I served as co-chair (2013-2015) and later chair (2015-2017) of the American Society of Criminology (ASC)’s Division of Critical Criminology, which was later renamed the Division of Critical Criminology and Social Justice. During this time, we regularly discussed the state of the discipline, the division itself, the quality of scholarship being produced, and areas for improvement.
For the past decade, Vincenzo and I shared meals at nearly every ASC meeting, sometimes joined by colleagues and friends. These dinners, always accompanied by excellent red wine, were filled with wide-ranging and profound discussions.
And if dinner wasn’t on the agenda, we often found ourselves at a relaxed wine bar or restaurant late into the evening, enjoying a late-night bottle together. I got to know him better during these conversations and in these contexts.
One particularly memorable experience outside of academia was in July 2015, when Vincenzo invited my wife and I to his home in Ghizzano, Italy. Nestled in the hills of a picturesque Tuscan town, we had the pleasure of meeting his partner, Cynthia and hearing about their daughter, Lucia, whom they adored.
We enjoyed a delightful dinner at an exquisite restaurant in an outdoor setting. There, we savored plates of food prepared with locally sourced ingredients, paired with superb Tuscan wines.
After Cynthia returned to London, the three of us visited the nearby town of Volterra, sharing lunch. In the evening, we all attended an opera in Peccioli, performed at an amphitheater with rows of seats carved out of a mountainside. In addition to spending a few days at Vincenzo’s house, we witnessed his culinary skills and tasted the food he prepared. One evening, he graciously cooked pasta topped with a wonderful homemade tomato sauce.
Our relationship continued beyond Ghizzano. We would continue to hang out at ASC conferences, including the Division of Critical Criminology and Social Justice socials.
In addition to his sharp mind, I saw a wry sense of humor. With the exception of me periodically misspelling his last name, which I did on a handful of occasions, rarely did I see Vincenzo pissed.
Although he often appeared to play cards close to his chest, his heart was always in the right place.
We knew many people in common, and it is clear that Vincenzo touched the lives of those who knew him well. His passing is a profound loss, not only to criminology and criminal justice, but also to the many people who knew, admired, and loved him.
References
South, Nigel (2024). Obituary Vincenzo Ruggiero, British Society of Criminology.
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/Screenshot-2025-06-03-at-1.38.18 PM.png13161324Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2025-06-08 03:29:302025-09-28 11:56:58Good Food, Great Wine, and Unforgettable Conversations: A Tribute to Vincenzo Ruggiero (1951–2024)
Growing up, whenever rice was prepared and served in our household, you could almost guarantee it would be Uncle Ben’s Converted rice; white, tasteless, quick, and dependable.
When I moved out and began cooking for myself, I started wandering into health food stores. That’s when I discovered a whole world beyond Uncle Ben’s: basmati, brown rice, long grain, short grain, etc.
Later, as I tried to master Japanese cooking, I realized just how many varieties of japonica rice exist (e.g., Akitakomachi, Haenuki, Hitomebore, Koshihikari, Sasanishiki, etc.), each with its own flavor, texture, preparation methods, best uses, and so on.
Now, what seemed like a bland easy-to-prepare staple became a window into a unique history, culture, geography, and craftsmanship.
As I kept learning, I had more questions.
And what I realized was this:
The more time you spend with your subject or skill, combined with the greater curiosity and creativity you can muster, the more layers of complexity you will uncover.
That’s what separates dabbling as an amateur from developing as an expert.
Photo Credit:
Title: Japonica rice field in Japan
Photographer: “No machine-readable source”
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/Image-Rice_japonica_akituho.jpg480640Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2025-06-01 03:14:462025-06-01 03:14:46Japanese Rice, Curiosity, & Expertise
Although corrections is one of my primary scholarly research areas, I’ve never been entirely comfortable with the term. And yet, I still use it.
So, what do most scholars, practitioners, and journalists mean when they use corrections? Broadly speaking, the term refers to the institutions/facilities (i.e., prisons, jails, detention centers), policies, practices, programs, laws, and people (i.e., inmates; correctional officers and administrators; and other correctional workers) related to incarceration.
That said, the shift from terms like penology and punishment to corrections wasn’t neutral. It was a deliberate rhetorical move, designed to humanize the system during a politically sensitive era. The idea was to recast the purpose of incarceration as something rehabilitative rather than purely punitive.
The core problem with the term “corrections” is that very few people sentenced to a correctional facility are actually “corrected.” This raises several questions. Most importantly, what exactly are the goals of corrections? What should people be “corrected” to, and to what end?
Traditionally, corrections are said to have four principal goals: punishment, public safety, deterrence, and rehabilitation. Most criminologists, correctional staff, and incarcerated individuals would agree that the system is very effective at punishing people. But when it comes to the other three objectives, the system largely falls short.
Rehabilitative programs, if they exist at all, are often underfunded, poorly implemented, and overshadowed by institutional priorities that emphasize security and control over transformation.
And when we talk about “correcting” people, what are we imagining them being corrected into? Presumably, into law-abiding citizens. But that’s a harder sell in a society where political and corporate elites regularly break the law and do not face meaningful consequences. When crimes of the powerful go unchecked, the moral authority of the system erodes, and so does the assumption that being “law-abiding” is a universally agreed-upon ideal.
In this situation, the term corrections doesn’t just overpromise. It obscures.
So, where does that leave me and us?
I still use the term corrections, not because I believe in what it implies, but because it provides a shared reference point. I want people to quickly understand what topic I am discussing, and the word corrections allows me to communicate this efficiently and improve the likelihood that I will be understood.
Moreover, I don’t believe that any appropriate alternative terms have the same traction in mainstream discourse.
Thus, I use the term with caution. I stay aware of what it hides and encourage others to do the same.
Photo credit:
Photographer: California Department of Corrections
Title: Overcrowding in California State Prison
https://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/Prison_crowded.jpg498750Jeffrey Ian Rosshttps://jeffreyianross.com/wp-content/uploads/jeffrey-ian-ross-logo-04.pngJeffrey Ian Ross2025-05-25 12:46:292025-06-08 12:15:45Why I Use the Word “Corrections” (Even Though It Makes Me Uneasy)
Good Food, Great Wine, and Unforgettable Conversations: A Tribute to Vincenzo Ruggiero (1951–2024)
/by Jeffrey Ian Ross(Reprinted from the newsletter of the American Society of Criminology, Division of Critical Criminology and Social Justice, 33(1), pp. 10-13, published June 3, 2025)
It is an honor to pay tribute to Vincenzo Ruggiero, a highly respected professor and criminologist at Middlesex University, who passed away earlier this year.
Not only was Vincenzo a colleague, but he was also my friend.
I’m not sure when I first met Vincenzo, but I was introduced to his scholarship shortly after earning my doctorate.
I was drawn to his work because it explored issues that resonated deeply with me. Vincenzo had an impressive command of political science, sociology, criminology, and criminal justice, focusing on political crime, especially crimes of the powerful and corrections.
His work, especially Understanding Political Violence: A Criminological Approach (2006), Penal Abolitionism (2010), and Power and Crime (2017), has significantly impacted the field and my scholarship.
Vincenzo’s scholarship was meticulous, rigorous, thoughtful, and provocative. It is an excellent example of the type of articles, chapters, and books that shape our thinking and future scholarship.
Vincenzo had a rich history, full of meaningful experiences that predated his career as an academic. During the 1970s, he was “involved in penal reform campaigns [in Italy]. In 1976, he founded a bi-annual paper on prison issues, coordinating a network involving prisoners, their families, and reform activists, and in 1977 established a new publisher ‘Senza Galere’ (‘Without Prisons’) – later renamed ‘Ruggiero Edizioni’. The press mainly published fiction and poetry and all authors were prisoners serving a sentence or exprisoners. As Vincenzo suggested, this was surely an early example of ‘Convict Criminology’” (South, 2024), a field I co-founded three decades ago.
These works are a testament to his ability to combine his practical work and politics with his scholarship.
My relationship with Vincenzo deepened when I served as co-chair (2013-2015) and later chair (2015-2017) of the American Society of Criminology (ASC)’s Division of Critical Criminology, which was later renamed the Division of Critical Criminology and Social Justice. During this time, we regularly discussed the state of the discipline, the division itself, the quality of scholarship being produced, and areas for improvement.
For the past decade, Vincenzo and I shared meals at nearly every ASC meeting, sometimes joined by colleagues and friends. These dinners, always accompanied by excellent red wine, were filled with wide-ranging and profound discussions.
And if dinner wasn’t on the agenda, we often found ourselves at a relaxed wine bar or restaurant late into the evening, enjoying a late-night bottle together. I got to know him better during these conversations and in these contexts.
One particularly memorable experience outside of academia was in July 2015, when Vincenzo invited my wife and I to his home in Ghizzano, Italy. Nestled in the hills of a picturesque Tuscan town, we had the pleasure of meeting his partner, Cynthia and hearing about their daughter, Lucia, whom they adored.
We enjoyed a delightful dinner at an exquisite restaurant in an outdoor setting. There, we savored plates of food prepared with locally sourced ingredients, paired with superb Tuscan wines.
After Cynthia returned to London, the three of us visited the nearby town of Volterra, sharing lunch. In the evening, we all attended an opera in Peccioli, performed at an amphitheater with rows of seats carved out of a mountainside. In addition to spending a few days at Vincenzo’s house, we witnessed his culinary skills and tasted the food he prepared. One evening, he graciously cooked pasta topped with a wonderful homemade tomato sauce.
Our relationship continued beyond Ghizzano. We would continue to hang out at ASC conferences, including the Division of Critical Criminology and Social Justice socials.
In addition to his sharp mind, I saw a wry sense of humor. With the exception of me periodically misspelling his last name, which I did on a handful of occasions, rarely did I see Vincenzo pissed.
Although he often appeared to play cards close to his chest, his heart was always in the right place.
We knew many people in common, and it is clear that Vincenzo touched the lives of those who knew him well. His passing is a profound loss, not only to criminology and criminal justice, but also to the many people who knew, admired, and loved him.
References
South, Nigel (2024). Obituary Vincenzo Ruggiero, British Society of Criminology.
https://www.britsoccrim.org/vincenzo-ruggiero-obituary/
Photo Credit
Title: Vincenzo Ruggiero
Photographer: Middlesex University
Japanese Rice, Curiosity, & Expertise
/by Jeffrey Ian RossGrowing up, whenever rice was prepared and served in our household, you could almost guarantee it would be Uncle Ben’s Converted rice; white, tasteless, quick, and dependable.
When I moved out and began cooking for myself, I started wandering into health food stores. That’s when I discovered a whole world beyond Uncle Ben’s: basmati, brown rice, long grain, short grain, etc.
Later, as I tried to master Japanese cooking, I realized just how many varieties of japonica rice exist (e.g., Akitakomachi, Haenuki, Hitomebore, Koshihikari, Sasanishiki, etc.), each with its own flavor, texture, preparation methods, best uses, and so on.
Now, what seemed like a bland easy-to-prepare staple became a window into a unique history, culture, geography, and craftsmanship.
As I kept learning, I had more questions.
And what I realized was this:
The more time you spend with your subject or skill, combined with the greater curiosity and creativity you can muster, the more layers of complexity you will uncover.
That’s what separates dabbling as an amateur from developing as an expert.
Photo Credit:
Title: Japonica rice field in Japan
Photographer: “No machine-readable source”
Why I Use the Word “Corrections” (Even Though It Makes Me Uneasy)
/by Jeffrey Ian RossAlthough corrections is one of my primary scholarly research areas, I’ve never been entirely comfortable with the term. And yet, I still use it.
So, what do most scholars, practitioners, and journalists mean when they use corrections? Broadly speaking, the term refers to the institutions/facilities (i.e., prisons, jails, detention centers), policies, practices, programs, laws, and people (i.e., inmates; correctional officers and administrators; and other correctional workers) related to incarceration.
That said, the shift from terms like penology and punishment to corrections wasn’t neutral. It was a deliberate rhetorical move, designed to humanize the system during a politically sensitive era. The idea was to recast the purpose of incarceration as something rehabilitative rather than purely punitive.
The core problem with the term “corrections” is that very few people sentenced to a correctional facility are actually “corrected.” This raises several questions. Most importantly, what exactly are the goals of corrections? What should people be “corrected” to, and to what end?
Traditionally, corrections are said to have four principal goals: punishment, public safety, deterrence, and rehabilitation. Most criminologists, correctional staff, and incarcerated individuals would agree that the system is very effective at punishing people. But when it comes to the other three objectives, the system largely falls short.
Rehabilitative programs, if they exist at all, are often underfunded, poorly implemented, and overshadowed by institutional priorities that emphasize security and control over transformation.
And when we talk about “correcting” people, what are we imagining them being corrected into? Presumably, into law-abiding citizens. But that’s a harder sell in a society where political and corporate elites regularly break the law and do not face meaningful consequences. When crimes of the powerful go unchecked, the moral authority of the system erodes, and so does the assumption that being “law-abiding” is a universally agreed-upon ideal.
In this situation, the term corrections doesn’t just overpromise. It obscures.
So, where does that leave me and us?
I still use the term corrections, not because I believe in what it implies, but because it provides a shared reference point. I want people to quickly understand what topic I am discussing, and the word corrections allows me to communicate this efficiently and improve the likelihood that I will be understood.
Moreover, I don’t believe that any appropriate alternative terms have the same traction in mainstream discourse.
Thus, I use the term with caution. I stay aware of what it hides and encourage others to do the same.
Photo credit:
Photographer: California Department of Corrections
Title: Overcrowding in California State Prison