Minnesota, Moscow, Manhattan. Gus Hall’s Life and Political Line Until the Late 1960s

Scientists under Surveillance: The FBI Files

This article examines the shifts in the policy of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) in the United States in relation to the onset of the Cold War. It highlights that President Truman, unlike his predecessor Franklin Roosevelt, had a markedly different perspective on the Bureau's operations, emphasizing the necessity of compelling this agency to adhere strictly to laws and other legal norms. The analysis reveals that in the context of confrontation with the White House, FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover sought collaboration with ultra-conservative factions from both political parties. It is shown that Hoover initiated a campaign against communist influence in the United States, with the underlying aim of circumventing national leadership to further the objectives of the FBI. Notably, in 1950, a leader emerged among Hoover's supporters—Senator Joseph McCarthy. The rapidly coalescing "McCarthyite" movement gained influence and, in alliance with the Bureau, fostered an atmosphere of suspicion in America to hold accountable those individuals and organizations deemed by federal agents to be linked to Soviet intelligence or "disloyal." This article analyzes the complexities in the relationship between the FBI and the White House, characterizes the beginning of the Bureau's collaboration with radical conservatives in Congress, and traces the origins of McCarthyism. It also explores the evolution of public campaigns against communism, examines the associated repressions, and assesses the impact of the "loss" of China on this campaign and the president's stance.

In the late 1960s, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), a United States of America (US) intelligence agency, developed what is famously known as Counter Intelligence Program (COINTELPRO). Its mission was to surveil, misinform, misdirect and subvert or destroy black ‘subversive’ militant groups. The main intention of COINTELPRO was to ‘prevent the rise of a messiah’ who could ‘unify, and electrify, the militant black nationalist movement’. This insight is important as it reveals how those outside of black life (FBI) would invoke biblical language to define the possibility of revolution. This article through Black liberation theology seeks to present the idea of messianism as both an experience of Africans and oppressed peoples in the Global North and Global South. The idea of messianism is part of biblical reception in Africa and the African experience of colonialism. In South Africa, messianism would be observed from the perspective of African Christianity, while another form of messianism would be seen from Nat The Prophet Turner as well as the radical identity of Christ in Black liberation theology. The article will not take lightly the idea of surveillance of black militant groups in the same way as the priestly class surveillance Christ ministry. At the same time, the article would reflect on why lunacy is associated with those that seek to subvert oppression. This article seeks to discuss the role of messianism and militancy in Black or African Christianity and highlighting biblical reception and African affectivity.Contribution: This article explores the imaginative ways the Bible or its themes have been used by both the oppressor and the oppressed, often the latter using the Bible for its prerogative, namely, revolution and liberation.

The most likely scenario that we have to guard against right now ends up being more of a lone wolf operation than a large, well-coordinated terrorist attack. —President Barack Obama 1 Lone wolf and...

In January 1958 the Council of Ministers of the Romanian People's Republic launched a worldwide effort to showcase Romania's progress in health care. The decision reflected the Communist regime's medical Cold War diplomacy and was also a result of growing interest in what outside Eastern Europe was called “socialized medicine,” that is, a state-funded and organized health care system with equal and universal access for all citizens. Among the governments that wished to learn from Romania's experience were those of Bolivia and Argentina. Their representatives were invited to Bucharest for official visits or specialization courses. In the case of Argentina, the collaboration also stemmed from interwar encounters at international medical congresses between physicians of the two countries.This example of early exchanges between Romania and Latin American countries signals a broader research field that has recently emerged in Cold War studies: the multiple geographies of medical exchanges, mobilities, and conceptualizations in the 1945–1989 period. The volume edited by Anne-Emanuelle Birn and Raúl Necochea López is an essential addition to the growing literature about the relationship between health care, the bipolarity of the Cold War, and decolonization. Along with other pioneering studies, such as those by Marcos Cueto (Cold War, Deadly Fevers: Malaria Eradication in Mexico, 2007), Young-Sun Hong (Cold War Germany, the Third World, and the Global Humanitarian Regime, 2015), and Dora Vargha (Polio across the Iron Curtain: Hungary's Cold War with an Epidemic, 2018), the collection explores the fascinating terrain determined by the relationship between Cold War politics and rhetoric, on one hand, and notions of health, disease, and welfare, on the other.Peripheral Nerve brings two new dimensions to this scholarship. First, it offers a comprehensive panorama of Latin American cases of local, regional, and transregional alignments engineered by medical experts. It goes beyond the usual focus on U.S. interventions in and hegemony over this part of the world. The contributors convincingly emphasize the agency of Latin American actors, their ability to engage with multiple partners, and their savviness in taking advantage of the ideological competition between the two camps of the Cold War.Second, Peripheral Nerve brings a new chronological perspective for discussing health care entanglements, circulations, and partisanships: ideas, choices, and affinities during the Cold War were rooted in the interwar period. They are linked to the institutional and intellectual history of medical reforms in Latin America before 1945, to international experiences such as cooperation within the League of Nations Health Organization, or to the fascination with the Soviet Union's radical experiment in state-managed health care. Moreover, many of the contributors provide suggestive connections between pre-1989 policies and phenomena that unfolded after the end of the Cold War.The overarching theme of Peripheral Nerve is that of local agency and, consequently, of revising the history of the Cold War from its margins. Such an approach brings Latin America back into the global history of the period, a task flagged by other recent publications as well. For instance, in the introduction to the impressive volume Latin America and the Global Cold War, Thomas Field Jr., Stella Krepp, and Vanni Pettinà affirm that they compiled the book to revive “the history of what were once powerful interactions between Latin America and the rest of the Global South” (p. 2).Peripheral Nerve opens with a foreword by Gilbert Joseph, who places the volume in the general trend of “remaking . . . Latin American Cold War history” (p. ix). Three sections follow, each with its own distinct vantage point. The first deals with the interplay between leftwing internationalism and U.S. pressure on Latin America during the early Cold War. Katherine Bliss examines the biography of Lini de Vries, a former U.S. antifascist volunteer in the Spanish Civil War who sought to elude the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation by going into exile to Mexico in the 1940s. The Mexican government welcomed her contribution to rural health care reform, despite encountering criticism from U.S. officials. Nicole Pacino shows how the shrill anti-Communism of the 1950s in Washington led to the politicization of the Rockefeller Foundation's grants to medical schools in Bolivia, a departure from the institution's more ecumenical approach before 1945. Gabriel Soto Laveaga offers a fascinating study of how U.S. pharmaceutical companies skillfully employed Cold War rhetoric to control international prices and exert pressure on the Mexican government to open up its steroid hormone industry. If in the early 1950s a Mexico City company, Syntex Laboratories, controlled much of the world's steroid trade, by the end of the decade U.S. investors had purchased Syntex and relocated its headquarters to Palo Alto, significantly diminishing Mexico's domestic pharmaceutical capacities. In these three cases one can observe the degrees to which Latin American governments were able to maneuver in the increasingly troubled waters of U.S.-Soviet competition.The second section of the volume deals with the circulation of ideas and experts within the ideological camps of the Cold War. Each contribution underlines levels of ideological adaptation and transfer in various Latin American countries. Raúl Necochea López analyses how fertility surveys in Puerto Rico were the basis for U.S. advocacy of family planning policies throughout Latin America. He insists that this process antagonized Puerto Rican nationalists who used the Cold War to consolidate their position on the island. Gilberto Hochman and Carlos Herinque Paiva present the intellectual and ideological itinerary of parasitologist Samuel Pessoa. They link his fascination with Communist states’ health care systems (from the Soviet Union or China) and his membership in the Brazilian Communist Party to his interwar advocacy for medical, social, and economic reforms in the Brazilian countryside. The chapter provides glimpses into the multifaceted Latin American engagements with “socialized medicine.” From 1956 to 1961, Brazilian President Juscelino Kubitschek emphasized state centralization and planning of programs for the control and eradication of rural endemic diseases (p. 151). Jennifer Lambe examines the evolution of psychiatry in Cuba from the perspective of debates pitting Sigmund Freud against Nikolai Pavlov as central paradigms of the profession. She stresses the prerevolutionary roots of these discussions. She insists on the eclecticism, particularly in the 1960s, of Cuban responses to official attempts to emulate the Soviet focus on the Pavlovian tradition. She also shows how the two Soviet psychiatrists sent to Havana to advise on the revolutionary reform of the discipline had to acknowledge the diversity of local approaches (pp. 172–173).The third section is centered on the multidirectionality of Latin American medical experiences throughout the Cold War. Jadwiga Mooney focuses on two biographies—those of Salvador Allende and Benjamin Viel—when recounting Chilean attempts to create a national health service. For both men, Mooney emphasizes the pre-1945 origins of their reformist projects as well as the role of other health care models, such as the British or the Soviet, in shaping their visions of the Chilean medical system. Marco Ramos's chapter explores Argentinian psychoanalysts’ syncretic interactions and cross-fertilizations with Soviet, Western, and Third Worldist approaches in the field. These exchanges pushed some professionals to call in the 1970s for the “nationalization” of psychiatry so that it would better reflect Argentine realities. Ramos shows the shifting meaning of anti-imperialism and its embeddedness in the local context. This sometimes caused “failed encounters” (desencuentros) between strands of anticolonial medicine (p. 212). Cheasty Anderson contributes a study of Cuban medical teams’ activity in Nicaragua during the Sandinista regime. The Cuban government sought to insulate its medical workers from Nicaraguan society, beyond their medical provision tasks. Nicaraguan officials likewise safeguarded their policymaking autonomy. Anderson offers an engrossing analysis of daily contacts between Cuban personnel and the Nicaraguan population, but she does not fully explore the potential hierarchies of this interaction, particularly the Cuban superiority complex that sometimes appears between the lines of her interviewees’ accounts. Anderson could have also pursued a comparison between Cuban activities and East German doctors’ experience at the Carlos Marx hospital, created and operated by the German Democratic Republic in the 1980s. Iris Borowy has written a captivating account of this medical institution in the journal História, ciências, saúde—Manguinhos (2017). Peripheral Nerve would have benefited from a more comparative exploration connecting Latin American experiences with other instances of medical entanglement and circulation in different regions during the Cold War.Peripheral Nerve ends with a conclusion by the two editors that discusses the new vistas for research on health, medicine, and the Cold War in Latin America. The linchpin for the issues they raise is the central role played by international institutions (e.g., the World Health Organization or United Nations International Children's Emergency Fund) in global health care dynamics. These bodies offered world forums for various governments and their experts to pursue their interests, engage in dialogue, and imagine their positions in international political and medical hierarchies. Birn and López also explore the continuities across the 1989 threshold, underlining that the end of the Cold War did not bring “a wholesale rebooting of health philosophies and proposals in Latin America, instead hosting a mingling of the old and the new” (p. 272). They connect medical solidarities across the region during the post-2000 Pink Tide of elected left-leaning governments with programs first established during the Cold War. For instance, they show how the 2005 PAHO Declaration of Montevideo revived the primary health care principles of the Alma-Ata Declaration (1978), and they point out that the Cuban-Venezuelan Misión Barrio Adentro (Inside the Neighborhood) was an offspring of Havana's pre-1989 medical diplomacy. In this last case, they should have stressed the blatant manipulation of the program by Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro to ensure his and his party's reelection, as detailed for instance in extensive reporting by Nicholas Casey in The New York Times in March 2019.The volume edited by Birn and López is a trailblazing contribution to the global history of medicine during the Cold War. It presents geographies and expertise that recapture the complex connections pursued from Latin America, which equally echoed and defied ideological divides during the second half of the 20th century. Such versatile reading of international health care politics is highly topical for the present: the COVID pandemic has reopened debates about medical diplomacy, competition among health care models, and vaccine nationalism.

The second Red Scare refers to the fear of communism that permeated American politics, culture, and society from the late 1940s through the 1950s, during the opening phases of the Cold War with the Soviet Union. This episode of political repression lasted longer and was more pervasive than the Red Scare that followed the Bolshevik Revolution and World War I. Popularly known as “McCarthyism” after Senator Joseph McCarthy (R-Wisconsin), who made himself famous in 1950 by claiming that large numbers of Communists had infiltrated the U.S. State Department, the second Red Scare predated and outlasted McCarthy, and its machinery far exceeded the reach of a single maverick politician. Nonetheless, “McCarthyism” became the label for the tactic of undermining political opponents by making unsubstantiated attacks on their loyalty to the United States. The initial infrastructure for waging war on domestic communism was built during the first Red Scare, with the creation of an antiradicalism division within the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and the emergence of a network of private “patriotic” organizations. With capitalism’s crisis during the Great Depression, the Communist Party grew in numbers and influence, and President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal program expanded the federal government’s role in providing economic security. The anticommunist network expanded as well, most notably with the 1938 formation of the Special House Committee to Investigate Un-American Activities, which in 1945 became the permanent House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC). Other key congressional investigation committees were the Senate Internal Security Subcommittee and McCarthy’s Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations. Members of these committees and their staff cooperated with the FBI to identify and pursue alleged subversives. The federal employee loyalty program, formalized in 1947 by President Harry Truman in response to right-wing allegations that his administration harbored Communist spies, soon was imitated by local and state governments as well as private employers. As the Soviets’ development of nuclear capability, a series of espionage cases, and the Korean War enhanced the credibility of anticommunists, the Red Scare metastasized from the arena of government employment into labor unions, higher education, the professions, the media, and party politics at all levels. The second Red Scare did not involve pogroms or gulags, but the fear of unemployment was a powerful tool for stifling criticism of the status quo, whether in economic policy or social relations. Ostensibly seeking to protect democracy by eliminating communism from American life, anticommunist crusaders ironically undermined democracy by suppressing the expression of dissent. Debates over the second Red Scare remain lively because they resonate with ongoing struggles to reconcile Americans’ desires for security and liberty.

This article examines the US government's targeting of Arab Americans for surveillance and harassment in the wake of the 1967 Arab-Israeli war and the Palestinian terrorist group Black September's murder of Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics in 1972. In the late 1960s, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) included Arabs as targets of its COINTELPRO surveillance program, and in 1972 the Nixon administration created the Cabinet Committee to Combat Terrorism and the visa check system Operation Boulder to monitor Arab residents and Arab Americans. The federal government overstepped its constitutional boundaries and used its powers to repress Arab American activism on behalf of Palestine. The article explores Arab Americans' responses and resistance to government violations of their civil liberties. Ironically, the government's attempt to divide and intimidate Arab Americans actually served to heighten their unity and advance their activism.

Address for correspondence: Jonathan B. Tucker, Chemical and Biological Weapons Nonproliferation Project, Center for Nonproliferation Studies, Monterey Institute of International Studies, 425 Van Buren Street, Monterey, CA 93940, USA; fax: 831-647-6534; e-mail: jtucker@miis.edu. Since the Japanese doomsday cult Aum Shinrikyo released sarin nerve gas on the Tokyo subway in March 1995, killing 12 people, terrorist incidents and hoaxes involving toxic or infectious agents have been on the rise. Before the late 1990s, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) typically investigated a dozen cases per year involving the acquisition or use of chemical, biological, radiologic, or nuclear materials; however, FBI opened 74 such investigations in 1997 and 181 in 1998 (1). Although 80% of these incidents have been hoaxes, some were unsuccessful attacks (2). The vulnerability of civilian populations to chemical, biological, radiologic, or nuclear terrorism has been widely discussed, but information on historical cases is anecdotal and often inaccurate (3). Without a realistic threat assessment based on solid empirical data, government policymakers lack the knowledge they need to design prudent and cost-effective programs for preventing or mitigating future incidents. Responding to this knowledge gap, the Chemical and Biological Weapons Nonproliferation Project at the Monterey Institute’s Center for Nonproliferation Studies has compiled an open-source database of all publicly known cases from 1900 to the present in which domestic or international criminals or terrorists sought to acquire or use chemical, biological, radiologic, or nuclear materials. As of January 31, 1999, the database contained 415 incidents, both domestic and international. Each entry draws on multiple sources and includes a detailed description of the event and a list of citations. The project has conducted a preliminary analysis of the data to discern patterns over time in the frequency of such incidents, the underlying motives, and the choice of agent and target. The ultimate goal is to identify which types of individuals or groups are most likely to acquire and use toxic or infectious materials and for what purposes. Since the Monterey Database has been compiled from journalistic accounts and other unclassified sources, it may not be comprehensive or fully accurate. Incidents have been recorded only if they came to the attention of law enforcement or the news media, so the database does not include events that were not detected or whose existence remains secret. Despite these limitations, the information in the database indicates trends and patterns of behavior that may assist intelligence and law-enforcement personnel in focusing their monitoring efforts.

The article is devoted to the evolution of the American national cyber security strategies during the two recent decades. Ever since the late 1990s, cyber security has become one of the top national security priorities. However, every presidential administration had different approaches to ensuring cyber security. Theoretically, every cyber threat has at least three elements, each of which has to be considered to work out a robust cyber security strategy: the source of attack, the target of attack and the means of attack. The W. J. Clinton administration prioritized cyber threats only by the end of 1990s, and the major agency responsible for cyber security was the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), which meant that the government mostly countered criminal threats to commercial sector. G. W. Bush administration’s top national security priority was countering terrorism; hence, cyber security was integrated into most of the antiterrorist activities. National Security Strategy declared preventive action as a general approach to antiterrorist activities, which is why the government needed to collect and analyze a lot of personal data. The general government agency responsible for cyber security became Department of Homeland Security (DHS), and the cyber security policies included many legislative initiatives comprising the USA PATRIOT Act, new Foreign Intelligence Security Act (FISA), etc. Barack Obama’s cyber security strategy was part of the globalist agenda aimed at building international partnerships, as opposed to the unipolar world (the strategy of a previous administration). The Obama administration made an effort to implement deterrence policies to counter cyber threats. The general agency to deter cyber threats was the new CYBERCOM, created as a part of STRATCOM. Obama administration had to adopt a lighter legislation regulating government control over information – for example Freedom Act. Donald Trump’s cyber security agenda includes the development of offensive cyber capabilities, as outlined in the White House and Department of Defense cyber security strategies. While the distinction between offence and defense in cyberspace is very vague, obviously Trump’s strategy is aimed at countering American adversaries. Russian-American relations are of special concern in this regard, because the new technologies are becoming a part of a new arms race. And while the traditional arms control regime is collapsing, it triggers a number of destabilizing trends in contemporary international relations.

Wheeling into School and Out of Crime: Evidence from Linking Driving Licenses to Minimum Academic Requirements

Racism, Nursing, and Strategies for Change

Reviewed by: Cinematic Cold War: The American and Soviet Struggle for Hearts and Minds by Tony Shaw and Denise J. Youngblood Tobias Rupprecht Tony Shaw and Denise J. Youngblood, Cinematic Cold War: The American and Soviet Struggle for Hearts and Minds. 312 pp. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2010. ISBN 0700617434. $34.95. Scholarship on the Cold War has long focused on diplomatic maneuvering, military crises, and thus on the confrontational aspects of Soviet and U.S. foreign policy. From the 1990s, our understanding of this conflict has broadened tremendously: many historians have challenged a picture of northern hemispheric bipolarity by underlining the active role of Third World actors.1 Others have pointed at collaboration and exchange across the Iron Curtain, highlighting the role that politically exploited culture was to play in relation to external as well as internal audiences, and they have thus also shed light on what came to be called the home fronts of the Cold War. Scholars, visual artists, writers, musicians, engineers, and even industrial designers were to represent the superiority of their respective countries and the latter’s ideological bases. At the same time, these people took inspiration from colleagues of the other camp. The overwhelming majority of research on foreign and domestic consequences of this “cultural Cold War,” however, has been done from a U.S. perspective.2 [End Page 473] Soviet diplomatic and cultural outreach to the world and the Soviet home front remains understudied.3 Denise J. Youngblood of the University of Vermont and Tony Shaw of the University of Hertfordshire, England, take films and film production as a prism for their history of the Cold War. They are to be commended for giving equal space to the oft-neglected Eastern perspective in their smart and balanced comparative analysis of Soviet and U.S. cinema from the late 1940s through the 1980s. Not only did the postwar world see the beginning of the ideological confrontation of Western liberal capitalism and Eastern authoritarian socialism; it also saw a communications revolution and, in the Soviet Union—with some delay after Stalin’s death in 1953—ever higher numbers of films shot and viewers in cinemas. Youngblood and Shaw argue that the Cold War was fought, too, through many of these films, which let the masses participate in the conflict: “cinema shaped and reflected everyday Cold War mentalities and values” (6). One of the book’s strengths is that it includes cinematic propaganda with plain enemy stereotyping alongside films that did not refer directly to the conflicts and topics of the Cold War yet reflected mindsets and advertised lifestyles and ideologies. To begin with, Youngblood and Shaw study the political economy of filmmaking in different stages of the Cold War in both the Soviet Union and United States. The respective film industries, their relationship to the state, and the reception of films by audiences there are scrutinized based on unpublished scripts, censors’ reports, government documents, reviews, and box office receipts of dozens of Soviet and U.S. productions. Hollywood, as the authors describe it, was not only a “dream factory” that delivered escapist entertainment; many films, particularly those of the early 1950s, were heavily politicized, schematically anticommunist, and jingoistic. The ideological content of U.S. films was influenced by the self-interest of the capitalist studio owners, the political convictions of many filmmakers and of actors themselves, independent associations of moralist sleaze watchdogs, as well as the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Pentagon. By contrast, Soviet productions, after some “hard-core negative propaganda” (40) during late Stalinism, were not all ideology-laden. Few films dealt with the Cold War [End Page 474] directly, but many commented generally on the hypocrisy or superficiality of the West. During high tides of cultural liberalization, such as the Thaw under Khrushchev, several Soviet filmmakers even won prizes at Western film festivals with their artistically appealing and apolitical dramas. In the second part of the book, Shaw and Youngblood analyze ten representative Soviet and U.S. films from different stages of the Cold War in depth and set them in their cultural, social, and political contexts. The first pair of films, the Soviet Meeting on the Elbe (1949) and...

The relationship between the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Catholic Church was complex and changed over time. It is well-known that the bureau and the hierarchy of the church cooperated and supported each other during the early part of the Cold War. However, there is more to the story than that. This chapter explains how the bureau, for a number of reasons, pursued a relationship with Catholics during the late 1930s and World War II. As the author explains, however, the Catholic Church was never a monolithic entity, and the bureau maintained surveillance of progressive and radical Catholics who questioned the Cold War consensus. This chapter will focus on a little-known event at the end of World War II when the bureau played an important role in influencing the hierarchy of the Catholic Church to abandon its traditional liberal (or positive) anticommunism for a conservative (or negative) anticommunism.

In here, having a relationship with another girl? And it's sexual? It's a crime. Period.--Therapist, residential facility BEFORE THE MID-1970S, MOST FORMAL DISCUSSIONS OF JUVENILE CORRECTIONS did not include an explicit concentration on girls. Today, however, female juvenile offenders are no longer invisible and have become one of the fastest-growing segments of the juvenile justice system. For example, in 1975 girls represented 15% of juvenile arrests in the United States; 30 years later, they accounted for nearly one-third (Federal Bureau of Investigation, 2008). Juvenile court data suggest a similar trend: girls now comprise nearly one-third of all referred delinquency cases, and their adjudications have increased by 300% over the past three decades (Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention, 2006). Girls also have become an increasing proportion of juveniles in custody. By the turn of the century, girls' detentions rose by nearly 100%, and their commitments to secure facilities increased by 88% (Sickmund, 2004). In terms of private institutionalization, girl offenders, particularly chronic status offenders (runaway, truancy, and incorrigibility charges), were also more likely to be admitted to residential placements, training schools, or group homes, in comparison to their male counterparts who were more likely to receive day treatment (Chesney-Lind and Sheldon, 2004: 211). As a result, girls now make up 12 to 20% of all youth commitments. Due to the limited number of beds available in long-term state facilities, girls often wait nearly five months in detention for a residential placement to open. These findings have led scholars to examine current custodial conditions for girls, the institutional expectations that can exacerbate their future pathways back into the juvenile justice system, and the rationale behind correctional discretion and the decisions made for them (e.g., Bloom et al., 2002; Chesney-Lind and Sheldon, 2004; Mallicoat, 2007; Schaffner, 2006). Despite the growing academic interest in female juvenile offenders, studies on girls, sex, and juvenile corrections remain neglected and fairly scarce in the field of criminal or justice. In particular, the literature fails to show how the institution of youth corrections deals with lesbian, bisexual, and questioning (LBQ) youth and how such management techniques consequently affect girl offenders' identities and relationships. (1) This article addresses this paucity and uses feminist critical criminology to interrogate correctional professionals' perceptions of LBQ issues. Overall, it shows how staff construct and penalize girls for their within-institution sexual identity and activity. History of Girls, Sexuality, and the Youth Correctional System In the early years of the juvenile justice system, adolescent offenders were viewed as little adults, often receiving punishments--in the form of retaliation, retribution, and banishment--commensurate with older lawbreakers. By the late 1800s, increases in immigration, urbanization, and industrial jobs heightened poverty and subsequent societal concerns. Poor became synonymous with delinquent, as poor and neglected children often turned to criminal activity as a means of dealing with familial neglect and abandonment (Platt, 1977; Champion, 2001). Because incarceration with adult offenders did not seem to deter youth from criminal behavior, reform schools--Houses of Refuge--were founded. Their primary intent was to provide discipline and education to incorrigible youth who lacked desirable character--to save these children from themselves and their surroundings (Platt, 1977). The movement to create separate institutions for juvenile offenders was part of the larger Progressive Movement that, among other things, was ardently troubled about social evils such as prostitution (Chesney-Lind and Pasko, 2003: 56-57; Rafter, 1990: 54). …

Much of what we know about the manifestation etiology and prognosis for sexual offenders stems from research with adults. Despite the fairly high prevalence and harsh punishments for juvenile sexual offenders the field still knows little about the course and roots of these behaviors in youth. Developmental differences in psychopathology and amenability to treatment highlight the need for separate etiological and treatment models when dealing with juveniles. This chapter reviews our current understanding of adult sex offending and contrasts this literature with our gaps in knowledge pertaining to juvenile sex offenders. We conclude with suggestions for future research and treatment strategies. Sex offending behavior perpetrated by youth is not a rare phenomenon. Indeed about half of all adult sex offenders are thought to have initiated their criminal careers during adolescence. According to the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) juveniles were arrested for approximately 12.4% of all forcible rapes committed in 2001 (FBI 2002). Older statistics suggest that juveniles were responsible for approximately one-half of all child molestation cases committed in the United States in the late 1990s. Increases in violent crime among juveniles such as this led to nationwide legal reforms in the 1990s that lowered the age at which youths could be tried in adult criminal court and increased the severity of penalties available to juvenile courts. Now registration as a sex offender is among the penalties available for juvenile offenders in many states. (excerpt)