Turning 18 in the Netherlands is a big thing. Suddenly, from one day to the next, you can drink alcohol, vote in elections, and drive independently (preferably not in this order) . From that day on, legally, you are an adult, but mentally you might still be that geeky teen trying to find their place in the world. You might feel rushed to let go of your childishness, to become an independent, mature person — whatever that may be. In doing so, you might lose track of the person you are now.
Anxious teens don’t have a monopoly on the problem of self-description in the face of fast changes. As Kuhn famously pointed out, scientific disciplines go through crises too. During such a crisis, scholars question the epistemic standards of previously dominant theories in the search of new ideas. At times, it feels like society as a whole has been going through it too. While dealing with global issues like climate change and the depletion of scarce resources, issues grave and complex enough to demand practically all our attention, we are also inflicting harm upon ourselves. We fight wars and develop technologies in the hopes of bettering our lives, however the double edged sword of progress cuts deeper than we know.
All in all, the times are definitely a-changing. In this issue, our authors have written pieces that range from personal reflections to critical, scholarly analyses, digging deeper into what it means to change. We want to thank our Peer Review Panel and the Design Team from Minerva for their incredible work, and we hope you enjoy reading this issue as much as we enjoyed making it!
1 / Tongue-tilling Dimitriy Yaroshchuk
David Bebensee
Tessa Pino Sofia Llull Verdaguer
2 // The Swerve for Justice
3 /// I was a Castle
4 //// The City Has Eyes
5 ///// Cybercrime’s Loss of Innocence
Marisa Kruppa
6 ////// Dream Unburdened
7 /////// Nature, Nurture and the Gendered Legacy of War
Giorgia Kopf
8 //////// Frost
David Bebensee
9 ///////// Exploring Interdisciplinary
Dr. Han Van Der Strate
Dimitriy Yaroshchuk
The tongue your parents had I only touched a single time in a village with a sole telephone pole
Cracking, while your uncle showed me where we hid during the war and after and even now. The cows with crooked horns – is that why they call the city Кривой Рог?
Or Кривий Рiг, rather, but I can't even pronounce that the way your parents did. An army of them.
The bells, the cows, the cracking graves.
Do you still cross yourself, every time you pass them?
Do you still tear the weeds from between the marble, sweating and tugging all day long? I didn't see the change you promised me you'd bring.
I was too young to help you out, you said. I touched the marble crushing my father's father after death that day, a tongue of stone. The earth dry and cracking. Something about to break.
Legal Responsibility in a
Determined World
Revisiting “Free Will” in Criminal Justice Introduction
For centuries, human civilization has been built upon the assumption that we, as individuals, are the sole authors of our actions. We created our moral frameworks and legal institutions based on this conviction – how we assign responsibility and administer justice is shaped by the belief that people can and should be held accountable for their decisions. But what if ‘free will’ is merely a comforting mirage obscuring the unsettling truth that everything we do is an inevitable consequence of our biology and environment? This is the provocative argument proposed by biochemist Anthony R. Cashmore in his article The Lucretian Swerve: The Biological Basis of Human Behavior and the Criminal Justice System. In his view, human behavior is entirely the product of three forces: our genes, the environment, and stochasticism (‘randomness’). [1] There is no “ghost in the machine,” no immaterial agent issuing commands to the body. [2] Instead, our actions are governed only by the laws of chemistry and physics. According to Cashmore, denying this idea is like holding on to a modern form of vitalism, a belief long discarded in the natural sciences. Vitalism is the outdated belief that living organisms possess a non-physical force beyond the scope of chemical laws. [3] Cashmore claims that believing in free will similarly relies on an appeal to metaphysical forces which have no basis in modern biology. Although the author specifically critiques the concept of ‘free will’, he more broadly utilizes vitalism to reject Cartesian Dualism. René Descartes believed in a strict separation between the mind (an immaterial thinking substance) and the body (a material, extended substance). He imagined the mind as a non-physical soul that directs our physical bodies. [4]This dualist framework has influenced Western conceptions of the self and thus, of responsibility and justice. Yet, as neuroscience shows, what we call “mind” appears to emerge not from some ‘metaphysical soul’ but from the complex interactions of neurons and environmental stimuli. Dualism, thus, is rendered inapplicable. Utilizing neuroscientific evidence, Cashmore rejects vitalism and dualism, since both philosophies posit the existence of immaterial forces acting independently from physical laws.
Instead, Cashmore claims that free will is not a mystical force separating living from nonliving matter. Instead, what we call “will” is simply a biochemical output too complex for us to intuitively grasp, meaning that the idea that we can choose between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ becomes a biological fantasy. Thus, the author challenges the premise of the philosophical ‘Nature v. Nurture’ debate – that identifying the source of a behavior (whether genetic or environmental) can help us locate the agent responsible for it. Since all behavior is reducible to genetic, environmental, and stochastic factors, there is no autonomous “self” to be held morally accountable. This opinion piece offers a thought experiment: How should we conceive our legal systems if we acknowledge Cashmore’s argument? If we accept his thesis, we are not just confronting our metaphysical vanity – we are questioning the foundation of criminal law, where moral culpability is central. Drawing on Cashmore’s paper, this piece will explore the idea that holding on to the illusion of free will could obstruct the construction of a fairer legal system. Understanding this misconception might lead to a novel understanding of human accountability.
Cashmore’s Approach: From Lucretius to Libet
The title of Cashmore’s article recalls Lucretius, the Roman poet and Epicurean philosopher who thought that atomic “swerves” introduced randomness into the universe, allowing for freedom in an otherwise deterministic world. [5] Determinism is the belief that all events in the universe are inevitable. In criminal law, this implies that “it is physically impossible for an offender not to offend in the precise way and at the precise time that he does”. [6] Cashmore picks up on this idea but interprets it differently. He argues that randomness (what he calls ‘stochasticism’) does not rescue moral agency. To illustrate his point, we can consider the act of rolling a die. The outcome is random, but we do not think of the die as having made a choice. Similarly, when randomness is introduced into human behavior, it may break the chain of strict determinism, but it does not introduce moral freedom. Unpredictability is not the same as freedom – randomness does not confer responsibility any more than determinism does.
Neuroscience supports this claim. Benjamin Libet’s experiments in the 1980s demonstrated that neural activity predicting a subject’s decision to move occurred – and could be observed – hundreds of milliseconds before the subject reported consciously deciding to act. [7] Modern studies using fMRI technology to measure cerebral function have also shown unconscious brain activity up to ten seconds before a subject’s reported awareness of making a decision. [8] Therefore, consciousness seems to be more a narrator than an author – a commentator on actions already physically in motion. Cashmore constructs this argument biologically. He claims that our behaviors emerge from three factors: Our genes, which shape temperament, impulse control, and emotional reactivity; our environment, including childhood experiences, education, and trauma; and randomness, from neuronal firing patterns to unpredictable social interactions.
None of these components is chosen. Indeed, it is difficult to pinpoint a moment in our development where “we” existed independently of these forces, allowing us to freely choose who we would become. However, accepting Cashmore’s argument does not merely challenge the idea of moral responsibility; it dismantles it. This dilemma is ever central in the criminal justice system.
The Legal System and the Myth of Autonomy
Contemporary criminal law is grounded in a deontological framework, associated with Immanuel Kant, that insists on moral agency. To be guilty of a crime is not simply to have committed a harmful act (actus reus) but to have done so with intent (mens rea) –with the capacity to have chosen otherwise. [9] The ‘insanity defense’ is a rare exception. Rooted in the M’Naghten Rules, it acknowledges that some individuals, because of a mental disease active at the moment of a specific action, could not understand its wrongfulness. But the very existence of this exception reinforces the rule: most people, most of the time, are presumed capable of free, rational choice. Cashmore sees this as fiction. If genes and environment are not chosen, and if stochastic processes only add randomness rather than agency, then on what basis can we assign responsibility?
The assumption that people could have acted differently seems incoherent. [10] This critique of the notion of ‘culpability’ is not unique to Cashmore. As legal practitioners Greene and Cohen argue, recent scientific discoveries “change nothing and everything” for the law. [11] They do not invalidate legal practices immediately, but they undermine their conceptual foundation. Their point seems to stand today, because, even after neuroscientific discoveries about the absence of free will have been published, courts still punish individuals as though they freely chose their crimes. Even in extreme cases of offenders who suffered from severe psychological disturbances, jurors are instructed to assess whether the defendant knew right from wrong – or, at least, could have foreseen the moral consequences of his action. The deeper issue, whether he could have chosen otherwise, is never asked. The system, as it stands, cannot accommodate that question.
The implications of accepting Cashmore’s thesis are not merely academic. Our legal systems, built on retributive logic, assume that punishment is deserved because the offender chose to do wrong. But if choice is an illusion, retribution becomes ethically hollow. This does not mean we must abandon justice, but we need to redefine it. Utilitarian philosophers of the 18th century already faced this dilemma. According to jurist Jeremy Bentham, punishment is justified not because it is deserved but because it serves a pragmatic end: deterrence. [12] Thus, incarceration is no longer justified as a moral vengeance, but as a prevention of crime. This allows for restorative justice, a model of justice that emphasizes repairing the harm caused by criminal behavior rather than strictly punishing the offender. This reimagines justice as reconciliation. However, the concept of ‘free will’ has been the subject of philosophical debate, even after Bentham’s writings were published.
“Men are not punished for their crimes, but those crimes may not be committed.”
– Cesare Beccaria, On Crimes and Punishments (1764)
In the 20th century, legal theorist H.L.A. Hart explored the balance between deterrence and desert. He suggested that even if people are not metaphysically free, they can still be held accountable within a system that promotes societal order. [13] This offers a concession between the 5strict retributivism of Kant and Bentham’s consequentialism – although the state of having ‘metaphysical free will’ may be contested, the legal concept of responsibility can be clarified. Hart distinguished between ‘moral guilt’ and ‘legal responsibility’, arguing that the latter can be justified as a rule-based convention necessary for maintaining social order. [14] Uder this approach, holding individuals legally accountable could become less about blaming them in an absolute moral sense and more about ensuring that laws function as effective deterrents within a predictable legal system.
This is important because, even if we accept Cahsmore’s thesis and thus assume that behavior is caused by factors beyond the agent’s control, society still needs norm-inducing mechanisms to establish which actions are unacceptable. However, accountability would become a pragmatic construct, not a metaphysical truth. Therefore, Hart’s philosophy can be used to understand the implications of Cashmore’s thesis. We can accept the limitations of freedom while resisting the collapse of legal responsibility. In other words, justice can be preserved not by denying causality but by designing institutions that protect social cohesion. This might mean abolishing the insanity defense, not to expand punishment, but to shift focus. Rather than making excuses for the “insane” (as is the case with the M’Naghten Rules), we could treat all offenders as subjects of cause and condition.
The Role of Genetics and Neuroscience: Reframing Responsibility and Reforming Justice
Cashmore’s thesis, prima facie, seems to challenge the Kantian conception of the homo noumenon (the idea of the human being a purely rational agent). However, to make his argument legally plausible, Kant’s philosophical concept should not be entirely rejected. Cashmore invites a re-conceptualization of moral agency – human beings are not wholly autonomous from the physical world, but this does not mean that they are not reasonable or self-aware. His key point is not that humans are mindless automatons but that our sense of “free will” is misleading. What we experience as ‘conscious choice’ is the result of unconscious, materially grounded processes. Thus, accountability, in Cashmore’s argument, is not about moral blame but about social consequence. Individuals can still be held responsible because their actions have effects on others, but this responsibility is not retributive. If we accept Cashmo -
re’s thesis, we should build a novel legal system that, instead of being a mechanism of moral condemnation, is one of risk management. This reframing shifts the focus of legal responsibility from metaphysical autonomy to empirical vulnerability, prompting a re-evaluation of how the law interprets ‘intent’. This biological turn in legal theory allows professionals to target the causes of crime more precisely. Within this new paradigm, we could design policies that intervene earlier, more compassionately, and more effectively. Most genetic findings do not imply determinism in the strict sense because no gene codes for specific human behaviors, but they do suggest probabilistic vulnerability. [15] As such, behavior that society labels as ‘immoral’ may be the product of neurological damage and developmental deficits rather than conscious malice. This shift in framing humanizes the offenders, recognizing them not as villains to be punished due to their moral failures, but as persons shaped by forces beyond their control. This approach doesn’t eliminate the need for public safety or social accountability, but it abandons emotive arguments of moral vengeance.
Cashmore’s arguments underpin a model of justice in which sentencing is to be informed not only by the severity of the crime but by the risk factors of each offender. The goal would not be to inflict punishment for its own sake but to reduce future harm. Norway’s rehabilitative prison system offers a powerful example. There, recidivism rates are dramatically lower than in other European countries — not because Norwegian citizens are inherently more law-abiding, but because the system understands that criminal behavior often stems from specific social conditions. [16] Norwegian prisons emphasize rehabilitation over retribution, treating offenders not as inherently “bad” people but as individuals shaped by psychological vulnerabilities. Justice is served not by punishing that damage but by repairing it. This approach aligns closely with the implications of Cashmore’s thesis: instead of clinging to the illusion of absolute moral agency, an effective justice system must consider the biological and environmental roots of human behavior and how to address them.
Conclusion: Beyond Blame and Toward Compassionate Realism
This paper has examined Anthony R. Cashmore’s thesis that human behavior is the result of genetic, environmental, and stochastic factors, and that the concept of ‘free will’ is a biologically unfounded illusion. By tracing the philosophical and scientific roots of this argument, this opinion piece explored how modern neuroscience challenges the traditional belief in moral agency that underpins criminal law. This essay argued that maintaining belief in free will, despite mounting empirical evidence against it, risks upholding a fair and scientifically coherent legal system. Reframing accountability in light of Cashmore’s argument does not render criminal justice obsolete, but it does demand that we rethink its foundations. This opinion piece has demonstrated that the traditional model of criminal responsibility, grounded in deontological assumptions of moral culpability, is incompatible with our neuroscientific understanding of human behavior. Justice could become a system of pragmatic accountability that acknowledges the causality between external factors and specific actions. If we accept Cashmore’s argument, we should not understate the need to reconstruct criminal law in a way that prioritizes harm reduction and replaces retribution with rehabilitation. Accepting that individual actions are shaped by external forces in a deterministic sense does not weaken our legal systems. Instead, it can strengthen their ethical and scientific coherence.
References
1-15
1. Cashmore, A. R. (2010). The Lucretian swerve: The biological basis of human behavior and the criminal justice system. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 107(10), 4499–4504. https://doi. org/10.1073/pnas.0915161107
2. Ryle, G. (1949). The concept of mind. Routledge. (Originally published by Routledge & Kegan Paul; Taylor & Francis Group imprint)
3. Konopka, A. (2002). This is biology: The science of the living world: Ernst Mayr. Computers & Chemistry, 26(5), 543–545. https://doi.org/10.1016/S00978485(02)00025-6
4. Hawthorne, J. (2007). Cartesian dualism. In P. Van Inwagen & D. Zimmerman (Eds.), Persons: Human and divine (Chap. 4). Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780199277506.003.0004
5. Lucretius, T. (1994). On the nature of the universe (R. E. Latham, Trans.). Penguin Classics. (Original work published ca. 50 BCE)
6. Moore, J. (2016). Criminal responsibility and causal determinism. Washington University Jurisprudence Review, 9(1), 1–25.
7. Libet, B. (1983). Time of conscious intention to act in relation to the onset of cerebral activity (readiness-potential): The unconscious initiation of a freely voluntary act. Brain, 106(3), 623–642. https://doi.org/10.1093/brain/106.3.623
8. Soon, C. S., Brass, M., Heinze, H. J., & Haynes, J. D. (2008). Unconscious determinants of free decisions in the human brain. Nature Neuroscience, 11, 543–545. https://doi.org/10.1038/nn.2112
9. Veresha, R. (2016). Criminal and legal characteristics of criminal intent. Journal of Advanced Research in Law and Economics, 7(7), 1861–1867.
10. Searle, J. R. (1986). Minds, brains and science. Harvard University Press. 11. Greene, J., & Cohen, J. (2004). For the law, neuroscience changes nothing and everything. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 359(1451), 1775–1785. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2004.1546
12. Bentham, J. (1907). An introduction to the principles of morals and legislation. Clarendon Press. (Original work published 1789)
13. Hart, H. L. A. (1968). Punishment and responsibility: Essays in the philosophy of law. Oxford University Press. (Reprinted 1969)
14. Singh, J. P. (2014). From risk assessment to risk management: Matching interventions to adolescent offenders’ strengths and vulnerabilities. Children and Youth Services Review, 47, 1–9. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.childyouth.2013.09.015
15. Denny, M. (2016). Norway’s prison system: Investigating recidivism and reintegration. Bridges: A Journal of Student Research, 10(2), Article 7.
By Tessa Pino
Introduction
A few months ago, while researching drug use among students, I had the opportunity to ride along with the police for a night to gain insight into how they experienced the drug problem in Groningen. During this experience, we visited the surveillance control room, where live footage from CCTV cameras across Groningen’s city center is monitored. However, what I saw was not what I had expected. I had imagined seeing a large network of surveillance cameras, as I often hear and read about their presence. Instead, I was surprised by how few government-operated cameras were actually in place.
Groningen, with a population of 244,433, has notably fewer CCTV cameras than other Dutch cities of similar size, such as Eindhoven (248,948 residents) and Tilburg (230,521 residents) [1]. Eindhoven has 38 fixed surveillance cameras [2] and Tilburg 130 [3], whereas Groningen operates only 18 [4].
This moment changed how I think about surveillance in Groningen. And in a broader sense, it reflects how gaining new knowledge shapes how I see the world around me. Just as individuals mature by questioning assumptions and confronting difficulties, cities, too, evolve. With surveillance technologies becoming increasingly prevalent, the city of Groningen faces new challenges. Like any coming-of-age moment, it forces difficult questions: How much control is too much? And what kind of city does Groningen want to become?
A Necessary Evolution?
The practice of urban surveillance dates back centuries, though its methods have evolved dramatically with technological advancements. In pre-modern cities, surveillance was primarily conducted through human observation. Watchtowers, city guards, and informants maintained public order. However, during the industrial revolution in the 18th century, the rapidly expanding cities required a more systematic form of oversight. In response, the first police forces were established in major urban centers, and by the early 20th century, rudimentary surveillance methods such as photographic criminal records and street patrols became standard [5].
The introduction of CCTV in the mid-20th century marked a turning point for urban surveillance. First used in the 1940s for military purposes, it was soon adopted by law enforcement and private businesses to deter crime. By the 1980s and 1990s, many cities, particularly in the United Kingdom and the United States, had integrated extensive CCTV networks into public spaces [6]. Throughout the 21st century, higher resolution cameras, remote access capabilities, and networked systems have allowed for even more efficient monitoring and storage of footage. CCTV has become banal, and is now used (by governments) across the globe [7][8].
Closed-Circuit Television (CCTV) refers to a system of video cameras used to monitor and record activity in specific areas. Unlike public broadcasting systems, its footage is transmitted to a limited number of monitors. CCTV functions as a form of situational crime prevention (SCP), aimed at reducing criminal opportunities and enhancing the perceived risks associated with offending by increasing formal surveillance in specific areas. SCP strategies are grounded in the rational choice perspective, which views criminal behavior as purposive and goal-oriented, undertaken to satisfy everyday needs. This perspective suggests that offenders make decisions based on “choice
structuring properties,” such as the potential benefits and risks associated with committing a crime. By altering the physical environment through surveillance technologies like CCTV, SCP efforts seek to disrupt these decision-making processes and deter criminal behavior [9].
The practice of urban surveillance dates back centuries, though its methods have evolved dramatically with technological advancements. In pre-modern cities, surveillance was primarily conducted through human observation. Watchtowers, city guards, and informants maintained public order. However, during the industrial revolution in the 18th century, the rapidly expanding cities required a more systematic form of oversight. In response, the first police forces were established in major urban centers, and by the early 20th century, rudimentary surveillance methods such as photographic criminal records and street patrols became standard [5].
The introduction of CCTV in the mid-20th century marked a turning point for urban surveillance. First used in the 1940s for military purposes, it was soon adopted by law enforcement and private businesses to deter crime. By the 1980s and 1990s, many cities, particularly in the United Kingdom and the United States, had integrated extensive CCTV networks into public spaces [6]. Throughout the 21st century, higher resolution cameras, remote access capabilities, and networked systems have allowed for even more efficient monitoring and storage
of footage. CCTV has become banal, and is now used (by governments) across the globe [7][8].
Closed-Circuit Television (CCTV) refers to a system of video cameras used to monitor and record activity in specific areas. Unlike public broadcasting systems, its footage is transmitted to a limited number of monitors. CCTV functions as a form of situational crime prevention (SCP), aimed at reducing criminal opportunities and enhancing the perceived risks associated with offending by increasing formal surveillance in specific areas. SCP strategies are grounded in the rational choice perspective, which views criminal behavior as purposive and goal-oriented, undertaken to satisfy everyday needs. This perspective suggests that offenders make decisions based on “choice structuring properties,” such as the potential benefits and risks associated with committing a crime. By altering the physical environment through surveillance technologies like CCTV, SCP efforts seek to disrupt these decision-making processes and deter criminal behavior [9].
This relies on the so-called Panopticon EffeWct to work. The Panopticon, originally conceptualized by philosopher Jeremy Bentham, is a theoretical prison design in which a single guard can observe all inmates without them knowing whether they are being watched at any given moment. This uncertainty creates a state of perceived constant surveillance, leading individuals to regulate their own behavior. The Panopticon Effect operates similarly with CCTV. The mere presence of visible cameras can induce a sense of being watched, thereby encouraging people to conform to social norms and legal expectations. Even if surveillance is not actively monitored at all times, the potential that it could be is often sufficient to deter criminal behavior [10].
Thus, the psychological impact of CCTV, not just its technical capabilities, plays a crucial role in its effectiveness as a crime prevention tool. Unfortunately, reality is not as ingenuous as a theoretical prison. When a criminal knows where cameras are located, they might simply move to a different location. This can result in an unintended increase in crime in other locations, known as displacement [9]. Furthermore, another consequence of feeling watched is the chilling effect, a phenomenon where individuals self-censor or alter their behaviors due to the fear of being watched [11]. When people think that they are being observed, they may avoid certain activities, restrict their movements, or refrain from expressing controversial opinions. This limits freedom of speech, stifles creativity, and therefore undermines democracy. In order to combat displacement, CCTV use must be widespread. However, when surveillance is ubiquitous, the positive results of the Panopticon effect may be overshadowed by the negative consequences of the chilling effect.
The 18 fixed cameras in Groningen city centre.
Groningen, where approximately 25% of the population consists of students, is widely recognized for its vibrant nightlife [12]. Despite this reputation, safety concerns are prevalent among those who participate in the nightlife scene. 63% of nightlife-goers in Groningen have felt unsafe on the streets or in entertainment values at night [13]. The two primary factors contributing to this perceived lack of safety are the aggressive behavior of others and the influence of drug and alcohol consumption, two issues that are often closely linked. A substantial proportion of students in Groningen (67%) report having witnessed aggression that they attribute directly to drug use [14]. These concerns are reinforced by data showing that drug use in Groningen significantly exceeds the national average. For instance, 9.9% of individuals aged 16 to 25 in the province report having used cocaine, compared to 7% nationally [15][16]. Similarly, the prevalence of designer drug use, such as 3-MMC and 4-MMC, stands at 16.5% in Groningen, in contrast to a national average of 10% [17]. One of the measures taken by the municipality of Groningen to enhance public safety at night is the installation of CCTV cameras for surveillance. CCTV is widely recognized as an effective crime prevention tool, particularly in relation to drug-related offenses [9]. As a result, the first CCTV cameras in Groningen were installed in the year 2000 [18]. The implementation and effectiveness of these systems are systematically reviewed every five years to ensure continued relevance and efficiency [19]. At time of writing this, 108 government-operated cameras are registered in Groningen, 18 of which are fixed CCTV cameras specifically used for maintaining public order [20][21].
Data extracted from Gemeente Groningen (2025a)
Unlike most Dutch cities, where CCTV surveillance is typically managed by the national police, Groningen is unique in that this responsibility lies primarily with the municipality. The surveillance footage is monitored in real time by municipal employees and police officers during peak hours. Specifically, the nights from Thursday till Sunday, as well as during special events such as Koningsdag. Under standard conditions, the recorded footage is stored for a maximum of 28 days, unless there is a specific legal or investigative reason to retain it for a longer period [20]. Besides extra monitoring during events, Groningen also occasionally installs temporary extra CCTV cameras. For example, cameras can be installed at key locations such as the Grote Markt during major public events, like Koningsdag and New Year’s Eve [20]. Furthermore, as of 13 February 2025, temporary CCTV cameras have been placed in the Gele Loper area [22]. The Gele Loper, literally translated as “yellow walkway”, refers to the corridor between Groningen’s central train station (Hoofdstation) and the Vismarkt, distinguished by its yellow-painted pavement. This area is known for issues related to drug trade and prostitution. The current surveillance initiative in this area is officially temporary; after one year, the effectiveness of the cameras will be evaluated, and a decision will be made regarding their potential long term use.
Rethinking the Surveillance City
The addition or removal of CCTV cameras, such as in the Gele Loper area, often leads to debate among both citizens and local political parties. At the heart of these discussions is the trade-off between public safety and privacy. Concerns about the so-called earlier mentioned chilling effect, in which people modify their behavior due to a perceived loss of privacy, are frequently raised.
Yet these concerns are often shaped more by perception than by fact. In the course of researching my Bachelor’s thesis on the perception of surveillance, I surveyed 300 residents about how many fixed CCTV cameras they believed were operating in Groningen’s city center. Of the 228 valid responses, 82% overestimated the number, sometimes drastically. The median estimate was 50 cameras, while the actual number of fixed government-operated surveillance cameras was just 18. Many respondents even believed there were hundreds.
This mismatch between perception and reality suggests that the real source of discomfort may not be the cameras themselves, but the uncertainty surrounding them. Media portrayals of advanced, AI-powered surveillance systems contribute to a sense that we are constantly being tracked. In practice, however, no such AI systems are currently in use in Groningen. With fewer than twenty fixed cameras and a few temporary ones in place, surveillance remains relatively limited. Perhaps what people respond to is not the current state of surveillance, but the possibility of what it could become.
The question is no longer whether surveillance should exist, but how much of it is necessary, and who controls it. For many, the presence of CCTV in public spaces is a small price to pay for safety. At its best, CCTV offers a layer of protection without fundamentally altering how people experience public space. However, surveillance does not exist in a vacuum. It operates in a social, technological, and political landscape. And at its worst, surveillance can create a climate of fear and self-censorship, where people feel watched rather than protected.
Groningen, long celebrated as a free-spirited student city, is coming of age. Its growth into a more datafied space is inevitable, but the principles that define it - openness, independence, and civic engagement - must not be lost in the process. The city has eyes, but it must also have vision. If surveillance is to be a part of Groningen’s future, it should be implemented with the same transparency and accountability that the city itself has long championed. Otherwise, Groningen may find that in attempting to make its citizens more safe, it has also lost its character.
CCTV
On CCTV surveillance in Groningen
CCTV
References
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8. Doyle, A., Lippert, R. K., & Lyon, D. (Eds.). (2012). Eyes everywhere: The global growth of camera surveillance. Routledge. https:// doi-org.proxy-ub.rug.nl/10.4324/9780203141625
9. Piza, E. L., Welsh, B. C., Farrington, D. P., & Thomas, A. L. (2019). CCTV surveillance for crime prevention. Criminology & Public Policy, 18(1), 135–159. https://doi.org/10.1111/1745-9133.12419
10. Fyfe, N., & Bannister, J. (1996). City Watching: Closed Circuit Television Surveillance in Public Spaces. In The Urban Geography Reader (1st ed., pp. 364–372). Routledge. https://doi. org/10.4324/9780203543047-45
11. Murray, D., Fussey, P., Hove, K., Wakabi, W., Kimumwe, P., Saki, O., & Stevens, A. (2024). The Chilling Effects of Surveillance and Human Rights. Journal of Human Rights Practice, 16(1), 397–412. https:// doi.org/10.1093/jhuman/huad020
14. Huistede, L. et al. (2025). Onderzoek naar recreatief drugsgebruik onder Groningse universitaire studenten. Science Shop, University of Groningen. https://research.rug.nl/en/publications/onderzoek-naar-recreatief-drugsgebruik-onder-groningse-universita
15. Trimbos-instituut & WODC (2025). Nationale Drug Monitor, editie 2025: Cocaïne 4.2 Gebruik: volwassenen. Nationale Drug Monitor. https://www.nationaledrugmonitor.nl/cocaine-gebruik-algemene-bevolking/ 16. Strating, G., & Bogičević, L. (2025). Waarom vinden we dit eigenlijk normaal? Jongvolwassenen over hun mentale gezondheid, stress en middelengebruik. GGD GHOR Nederland. https://ggdghor. nl/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/Rapportage-Kwalitatieve-onderzoek-GM-JV-2024.pdf
17. Trimbos-instituut & WODC (2025). Nationale Drug Monitor, editie 2025: NPS 8.2 Gebruik: volwassenen. Nationale Drug Monitor. https://www.nationaledrugmonitor.nl/nps-gebruik-algemene-bevolking/ 18. Gemeente Groningen. (n.d.). Zo gaat de gemeente om met privacy. https://gemeente.groningen.nl/zo-gaat-de-gemeente-om-metprivacy
19. Gemeente Groningen. (2011). Cameratoezicht. https://gemeenteraad.groningen.nl/Documenten/Collegebrief/Cameratoezicht-2. pdf
20. Gemeente Groningen. (2025). Sensorenregister Gemeente Groningen. https://data.overheid.nl/dataset/groningen-sensorenregister-gemeente-groningen
21. Van Kastel, Q. (2019). 228.530 geregistreerde beveiligingscamera’s in Nederlands straatbeeld. VPNGids. https://www.vpngids. nl/nieuws/228530-geregistreerde-beveiligingscameras-in-nederlands-straatbeeld/
22. Holsappel, W. (2025). Gele Loper-gebied in Stad krijgt minimaal jaar cameratoezicht. RTV Noord. https://www.rtvnoord.nl/ politiek/1257785/gele-loper-gebied-in-stad-krijgt-minimaal-jaar-cameratoezicht
23. Gemeente Groningen (2025). Aanpak gebied Gele Loper. https://gemeente.groningen.nl/aanpak-gebied-gele-loper
Gele Loper area according to Gemeente Groningen [23]
Loss of InnocenceCybercrime’s
By Marisa Kruppa
Introduction
In a dimly lit interview on the YouTube channel Soft White Underbelly, the hacker known only as Gummo reflects nostalgically on the early days of the internet, an era marked by curiosity, optimism, and boundless creativity. He recounts sleepless nights spent discovering vulnerabilities, driven not by malice but by sheer fascination and an idealistic belief in digital freedom. To hackers like Gummo, cyberspace was a frontier for exploration rather than exploitation, a landscape of endless possibilities where rules were few and innovation thrived. Yet, Gummo acknowledges that this innocence could not last; as technology matured, so did its darker applications, prompting increasingly rigid and bureaucratic regulatory frameworks aimed at controlling what had once been seen as uncontrollable [1]. This maturation from optimistic idealism to complex regulatory realism epitomizes the very notion of “Coming of Age”, marking cybercrime’s loss of innocence and posing critical questions about how effectively our legal systems balance security, innovation, and freedom in an everevolving digital world. As university students are constantly connected through laptops, smartphones, and cloud-based services, we often take for granted the invisible digital infrastructure that powers our daily lives. Whether it’s storing lecture notes on Google Drive, sending personal messages over encrypted apps, or submitting coursework via university portals, we rely on secure digital systems without giving much thought to how vulnerable they really are. Yet, beneath this convenience lies a complex web of cyber threats and regulatory efforts, ones that shape not only national security but also the privacy, autonomy, and safety of individuals like us. Understanding the evolution of cybercrime and the laws that attempt to control it isn’t just a theoretical exercise.
The hacker subculture first took root in the vibrant environment of Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), especially within its legendary Tech Model Railroad Club, where students eagerly explored and experimented with technology [2]
An iconic example of their playful ingenuity was the creation of the game Spacewar!, one of the earliest digital games, developed in 1962 by MIT students who wanted to explore and showcase the capabilities of their new PDP-1 computer. They championed openness, decentralized control, and the belief that technology should be freely accessible and endlessly adaptable, ideals that significantly influenced the birth and ethos of opensource software movements [2]. This spirit found a philosophical voice in McKenzie Wark is an Australian-born media theorist and renowned for her influential work, A Hacker Manifesto (2004), which reimagines Marxist theory for the digital age. In this text, Wark introduces the concept of the “hacker class”, individuals who produce new information and abstractions, and contrasts them with the “vectoralist class,” who control and commodify information through intellectual property laws. The manifesto critiques the commodification of information and has significantly impacted discussions around digital freedom, intellectual property, and the politics of information in the 21st century [4].
Early examples, like MIT’s hacker culture and Wark’s compelling manifesto, highlight the fascinating evolution from hacking as playful exploration to a formidable force reshaping cultural norms and disrupting technological control. Hacker culture emerged as an unsettling challenge to the dominance of powerful corporate interests. These foundational ideas ultimately paved the way for the complicated modern landscape of cybersecurity regulation we navigate today. timism, and boundless creativity. He recounts sleepless nights spent discovering vulnerabilities, driven not by malice but by sheer fascination and an idealistic belief in digital freedom.
Early Cyberculture: The Age of Innocence
Cybercrime has evolved significantly, transforming from isolated acts of digital mischief into sophisticated global criminal networks characterized by complex, well-organized structures and innovative methods. These networks mimic legitimate businesses, utilizing specialized skills across interconnected groups to perpetrate widespread financial crimes, such as credit card fraud and identity theft [5]. At first, cybercrime was rooted in small-scale exploits driven by curiosity or personal financial gain. Today, however, cybercriminal enterprises function within highly structured digital ecosystems, leveraging innovation to maximize illicit profits and minimize risks through anonymized, encrypted communications and advanced operational techniques.
This growth mirrors legitimate global business ecosystems, showcasing international value chains that involve diverse criminal actors specializing in distinct roles, from malware developers to brokers managing stolen data [4]. Such complexity signifies not just the loss of the initial optimistic innocence associated with the early internet but represents a challenging shift for legal frameworks, forcing international law enforcement and policymakers to continually adapt in order to effectively address cyber threats.
The evolution of cybercrime from playful experimentation into a global menace reached a critical tipping point with incidents like the infamous WannaCry ransomware attack in 2017. The WannaCry ransomware incident constitutes one of the most extensive and consequential cyberattacks recorded in contemporary cybersecurity history. Consequently, WannaCry not only illuminated significant inadequacies inherent in existing cybersecurity frameworks and emergency response strategies but also underscored the urgent necessity for robust international legal cooperation, to effectively mitigate and respond to evolving cyber threats. Ultimately the incident dramatically illustrated how hacking had transitioned from youthful curiosity into sophisticated criminal enterprises, capable of crippling essential services and institutions. This ransomware operated by encrypting critical files on infected computers and demanding payment in Bitcoin for their release, effectively holding digital assets hostage [5]
What set WannaCry apart was not only its unprecedented scale, impacting over 200,000 systems across 150 countries, but also its tangible disruption to vital public infrastructure, including hospitals, government agencies, universities, and major global corporations such as FedEx and Nissan. This incident marked a clear escalation in the severity and legal complexity surrounding cyber threats, prompting significant scrutiny from legal experts and policymakers worldwide. It challenged existing regulatory frameworks and highlighted the inadequacy of traditional legal mechanisms in addressing crimes that transcended national jurisdictions and operated anonymously through encrypted digital channels [5]
might also place significant administrative and financial pressure on emerging tech companies—especially startups that lack the resources to navigate complex compliance requirements.
In stark contrast, alternative perspectives like crypto-anarchy advocate radically different principles, prioritizing absolute decentralization, anonymity, and individual autonomy. Crypto-anarchist frameworks propose an environment free from government surveillance and interference, relying heavily on encryption and decentralized technologies like blockchain to protect individual freedoms and privacy [10].
One of the most prominent real-world examples of crypto-anarchy was The Silk Road, an online black market launched in 2011 on the dark web. It was designed around the principles of decentralization, anonymity, and resistance to government control. Users could purchase illegal goods, particularly drugs, using Bitcoin, which provided pseudonymous transactions, and access the platform through Tor, a privacy-focused network that anonymizes internet traffic [11].
This approach contrasts with traditional state-centric frameworks, which typically prioritize collective security, governmental oversight, and centralized control. Crypto-anarchy’s philosophy argues that such decentralization and anonymity can better safeguard freedoms and drive innovation without bureaucratic restrictions, presenting a provocative critique of existing regulatory models [10]. However, it also raises critical questions about accountability, more specifically the potential misuse of anonymity [10]. Thus, the ongoing challenge remains to develop adaptable regulatory frameworks capable of integrating the strengths of both approaches, ensuring effective cybersecurity without sacrificing essential freedoms and innovation.
It is becoming increasingly clear that cybercrime regulation, though well-established, risks premature rigidity as it struggles to keep pace with rapid technological change and cyber threats. While frameworks like the EU Cybersecurity Act and GDPR offer a structured approach to cybersecurity, they can inadvertently become stagnant under the weight of bureaucratic complexity, lagging behind dynamic cybercriminal methods. Prof. Murdoch Watney, from the University of Johannesburg, advocates for adaptive and globally coordinated approaches, emphasizing the necessity for a United Nations-led cybercrime treaty that harmonizes legislation and fosters international cooperation to address cross-border cyber incidents effectively [12]. Looking ahead, innovative regulatory mechanisms such as regulatory sandboxes, the use of soft law for greater flexibility, and strengthened public-private partnerships could offer promising solutions. These methods might ensure regulations remain dynamic, responsive, and proportionate to evolving threats and technological advancements. Yet, as we consider these future-oriented strategies, critical questions arise: Can truly global cooperation ever be achieved given diverse national interests and geopolitical tensions? And importantly, how do we ensure that regulations designed today remain relevant tomorrow, effectively balancing security imperatives without compromising innovation and fundamental freedoms? Ultimately, cybercrime regulation reminds us vividly of life’s inevitable transition from innocence to realism. Just as we mature individually, accepting that growth is often accompanied by loss, our collective digital maturity demands the acknowledgement that the internet, once a symbol of boundless creativity and freedom, now requires thoughtful, deliberate, and dynamic governance. While cybersecurity might appear distant and abstract, affecting only nations or faceless corporations, in reality, it is intimately woven into our everyday lives. From personal photos stored in the cloud to financial transactions conducted effortlessly on smartphones, our digital footprints make us vulnerable in ways we rarely consider. Thus, the call for innovative, reflective, and adaptive regulation is not merely bureaucratic rhetoric; it is a pressing necessity to safeguard the most personal aspects of our identities, relationships, and freedoms. The path forward lies not in reactive rigidity, but in embracing a regulatory maturity that evolves in tandem with the technologies shaping our very lives. As users of technology, we must not be passive observers, but active participants in shaping a fair and adaptive regulatory landscape.
Conclusion
By Marisa Kruppa
Ultimately, cybercrime regulation reminds us vividly of life’s inevitable transition from innocence to realism. Just as we mature individually, accepting that growth is often accompanied by loss, our collective digital maturity demands the acknowledgement that the internet, once a symbol of boundless creativity and freedom, now requires thoughtful, deliberate, and dynamic governance. While cybersecurity might appear distant and abstract, affecting only nations or faceless corporations, in reality, it is intimately woven into our everyday lives. From personal photos stored in the cloud to financial transactions conducted effortlessly on smartphones, our digital footprints make us vulnerable in ways we rarely consider. Thus, the call for innovative, reflective, and adaptive regulation is not merely bureaucratic rhetoric; it is a pressing necessity to safeguard the most personal aspects of our identities, relationships, and freedoms. The path forward lies not in reactive rigidity, but in embracing a regulatory maturity that evolves in tandem with the technologies shaping our very lives. As users of technology, we must not be passive observers, but active participants in shaping a fair and adaptive regulatory landscape.
References
1-12
1. Hacker interview-Gummo. (2020, December 10). Hacker interview-Gummo. YouTube. https://youtu.be/g6igTJXcqvo
2. Araújo, L. M. de. (2018). Hacking Cultural Heritage [Dr Thesis ]. https:// media.suub.uni-bremen.de/handle/elib/1520
4. Kraemer-Mbula, E., Tang, P., & Rush, H. (2013). The cybercrime ecosystem: Online innovation in the shadows? Technological Forecasting and Social Change, 80(3), 541–555. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.techfore.2012.07.002
5. Mohurle, S., & Patil, M. (2017, May 5). International journal of advanced research in computer science. Ijarcs.info; International Journal of Advanced Research in Computer Science . https://www.ijarcs.info/index.php/Ijarcs
6. Regulation (EU) 2019/881 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 17 April 2019 on ENISA (the European Union Agency for Cybersecurity) and on information and communications technology cybersecurity certification and repealing Regulation (EU) No 526/2013 (Cybersecurity Act) (Text with EEA relevance), L 151/15 (2019). https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=celex%3A32019R0881
7. Council of Europe. (2001). Convention on Cybercrime (Budapest Convention). https://rm.coe.int/1680081561
8. GDPR. (2018). General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). https://gdpr-info.eu
9. Enver Buçaj, & Kenan Idrizaj. (2015). The need for cybercrime regulation on a global scale by the international law and cyber convention. Multidisciplinary Reviews, 8(1), 2025024–2025024. https://doi.org/10.31893/multirev.2025024
10. Zhuk, A. (2024). Crypto-anarchy: a paradigm shift for society and the legal system. Journal of Computer Virology and Hacking Techniques, 20(4), 697–723. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11416-024-00525-1
11. Love, D. (2013, November 6). Silk Road 2.0. Business Insider. https:// www.businessinsider.com/silk-road-2-2013-11?international=true&r=US&IR=T
12. Watney, M. (2012). The Way Forward in Addressing Cybercrime Regulation on a Global Level. Journal of Internet Technology and Secured Transaction, 1(3), 61–67. https://infonomics-society.org/wp-content/uploads/jitst/published-papers/volume-1-2012-3/The-Way-Forward-in-Addressing-Cybercrime-Regulation-on-a-Global-Level.pdf
Nature, Nurture and the Gendered Legacy of War Introduction
The persistence of war in human history remains a central concern in both political science and international relations, continuing to shape global headlines and poli cies. War once seemed far away for citizens of Europe, until it suddenly arrived on their doorstep. In his article “Humans, Chimps and Bonobos,” political scientist and biopolitics scholar Albert Somit highlights the harsh truth: most people have never experienced a time of true peace [1]. Over the course of 5000 years of human history an estimated 14500 wars have been fought, which suggests that war isn’t a flaw in the system, but rather an integral part of it.
The essay aims to explore the question why human societies repeatedly engage in war, which is a question that is very complex and multifaceted. At the heart of this question lies one of the oldest debates in human thought: the nature versus nurture debate. Is human behavior determined by biology and genetics or is it shaped by society and culture? If war is a natural outcome of human evolution as an instinct passed down through aggressive ancestors, then perhaps conflict is unavoidable. On the other hand, if war is a learned behavior, reinforced by culture and historical narratives, then it can also be unlearned and changed. Depending on what lens the question analyzed from, the answers to the question vary. This paper will take a mixed approach by looking at biological and philosophical perspectives and mer ging them to understand how gender and masculinity intersect at war.
To address the question, the essay draws from a multidisciplinary approach that combines insights from evolutionary biology, philosophy, gender studies and inter national relations. This analysis will critically view both biological predispositions as well as constructions of violence. The essay will prove how warfare is neither a result of nature or nurture but rather that the role of masculinity underlines the intersection of nature and nurture which led to a violent global system, where war was the main solution to solve conflicts. Ultimately, the essay will explore how a feminist perspec tive offers an important critique on traditional power politics and helps shape a future of international relations where war is not the continuation of politics.
Rousseau, on the other hand, had a much more optimistic view and argued that humans are inherently peaceful. He argues that humans in their natural state are cooperative and morally innocent. In his view, it is not human nature, but society that corrupts. War is not a product of biology, but of inequality, greed, and artificial hierarchies. Man made systems reward power and greed, which also means that if we can change these systems, war can be ended.
[6] The distinction in the nature of humankind matters, as Rousseau’s argument especially ties in with the philosophy that warfare is shaped mainly by nurture and not by natural instincts of humans. In 1986, the Seville Statement on Violence was published and signed by a group of leading scientists from around the world. Its message was clear: war cannot be justified by claiming that humans are biologically destined for violence. Aggression, they argued, is not an unavoidable part of our genetics.
Scholars of the “nature” school of thought, particularly those who focus on genetics, argue that war and violence are ingrained in human nature. The hypothesis is that aggressive men had higher chances of survival and reproduction, which led to their genes being passed on more frequently. A shocking example is Genghis Khan, a 13th-century Mongol military leader. Around 8% of men in Central Asia today share his Y chromosome. That’s roughly 1 in every 12 men. [2] This example illustrates that the genes of aggressive, dominant men were more successful in reproduction. While biological explanations suggest that aggression is innate and comes from the need for human survival, it raises an important paradox. If a human’s instinct is to survive, why would they risk their life by going to fight? At first glance, this seems contradictory as going to war increases the chance of being killed, not surviving. This is where the concept of team aggression comes in. Humans have learned that survival is more likely in larger and more organized groups as cooperation makes it easier to hunt effectively, defend each other and share resources. In warfare, organized groups gained a clear advantage, because coordinated strategies were more successful than individual fighters. [3] Because of this, humans are willing to fight not just for themselves, but for their group’s survival. In a broader sense, the group that men fight for can be their country, culture, religion, or ideology. The more people identify with their group, the more likely they are to defend it, even violently, because group survival historically meant individual survival. [4]
Humankind: Competing Philosophies and the Power of Culture
Genetics may help explain which traits are more common in humans, but it doesn’t settle the deeper question: What is the true nature of humankind?
Are we motivated by peace, or by violence?
Philosophers have debated this for centuries. Two of the most influential thinkers, Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Thomas Hobbes stand on opposite ends of the spectrum. Hobbes famously described humanity with the phrase “homo homini lupus: man is a wolf to man.” [5] According to him, humans are born into a state of war. In his view, without a powerful authority to enforce rules, humans would be in a constant state of conflict. The natural outcome of humans is war, that they fight in response to threats, competition and distrust.
[7] Scholars Lagerspetz and Segal, who research cross-cultural psychology, support this view and emphasize the powerful role of culture in shaping human behavior.
In the modern era, that means everything from media, film, video games, to national narratives and historical myths. Culture doesn’t just reflect aggression, it often glorifies it.
[8] The glorification of warfare becomes more important later in the paper when discussing the role of gender.
Additionally, the nurture perspective questions the notion that men go to war because of team aggression. While patriotism and a sense of pride in one’s country may be a factor that draws men to the military, when it comes to war many men do not actually want to go. A prime example for this is the war in Ukraine, where men were obligated to stay in the country in order to defend the country. The nurture side can agree that there might be some form of aggression in human nature, however this does not mean that we can prevent war. Especially through learning lessons of the past, such as both world wars, where millions of people lost their lives. The tragedies should serve as a warning and reminder that history must be remembered to prevent its repetition. [9]
Masculinity at War: Where Nature meets Nurture
Attentive readers may have realized that when speaking about war we mainly refer to men. To fully understand why war persists, we must understand how masculinity is constructed in both biological and cultural terms. It has mostly been men who have actively fought in wars, which raises the question as to whether war stems from a patriarchal society. Traditionally, so it has been argued, war is a male dominated field as American International Relations scholar, Joshua Goldstein suggests that men are traditionally warriors while women are caretakers. [10] Psychologist Hector Garcia supports this view that men are warriors, because being more successful in wars meant greater reproductive success, as exemplified earlier with the story in Central Asia. [11]
However, there is also a cruel side that has not been highlighted yet. Wars have a very strong link to mass rape. An example of this is the Soviet occupation of Germany after the second world war, where it was estimated that up to 100.000 women were raped in the city of Berlin alone, as well as most likely over 1.4 million in East Prussia, Pomerania and Silesia. [12] Some of these rapes have also resulted in pregnancies, which again contributes to the argument over violent genetics which has carried on for generations. In an article for The Guardian, Antony Beevor argues that during the Soviet invasion, factors such as a highly sexually repressed society contributed to the development of intense and violent sexual urges among soldiers. [13] Regardless of the underlying reasons for war, there is a clear and troubling correlation between sexual violence and conflict, suggesting that the link between violence and reproduction persists. Nevertheless, this cannot fully explain the bigger picture. As Mountford et. al. emphasized in their article researching the genetics of language, genetics do not work in isolation. [14]
Equally important are cultural structures that shape male identity, especially those that associate masculinity with physical power, dominance and control. [15] Hymns like the German anthem, which proclaims “Unity and justice and freedom for the German fatherland,” help shape cultural ideals of masculinity. The use of fatherland shows a masculine framing of national identity, one that needs protection, strength and loyalty for the patriarchal state. These cultural aspects in combination with media such as movies on the military praise male heroism. These gender norms glorify war through modern media as discussed in the paragraph on the nurture of war. Clausewitz famously stated that “war is a continuation of politics by other means”. [16] What he meant by this was that war serves as an extension of political goals, allowing states to pursue their interests when diplomatic or peaceful means fail. Therefore, war becomes a culturally normalized method for countries to resolve conflicts, further romanticizing it as a tool for asserting national strength and dominance. The section demonstrates how gender in warfare functions at the intersection of nature and nurture, with biological factors being amplified by cultural expectations, social norms and media representation.
The Future of Warfare: Feminist International Politics to Prevent Wars?
If wars are such a male dominated field, what does it mean for modern international relations? There have been political analyses conducted in places where women have been on the frontlines and it resulted in lower military spending as well as a greater focus on social systems through healthcare and education. Feminist politics are generally about ensuring “all voices are represented within decision making processes, either within a country or at the global stage.” [17] However, as of 2020 only 23% of delegates in peacekeeping missions are women, despite research that has shown that women’s involvement in politics creates lasting results. Amongst other points, one important point is strengthening “women’s participation in preventing violent conflicts.”19 Feminist international relations is not directly linked to women wanting to stop all wars while men in power want to continue conflicts. Rather, feminist politics shift the focus away from dominance, military power and territorial influence, and towards justice and inclusion. For feminist foreign politics, the emphasis lies on amplifying the voice of marginalized groups (gender, race or class based) and finding solutions for more equality in the global system. War is not an inevitable outcome of international relations, but a symptom of structural inequality that must be addressed through new policies using diplomacy and new approaches to security and cooperation.
Conclusion
The question why humans continue to go to war is very complex. From an evolutionary perspective, there is the suggestion that it is hardwired into our genes. The cultural perspective highlights how violence is learned and that the answer does not lie in one single factor, but in a web of influences through modern media or a long history of culture. The role of gender in warfare shows the association between power, violence and masculinity. Mass rapes during wartime and the historical dominance of men in battles may have contributed to the continuation of the problem. Gender as a construction by society has also glorified violence as a solution which built the international political systems that we live in today.
As the world shifts to being more aware of gender perspectives in international relations, the hope is that a feminist approach to international relations could pave the way for a different way of power politics. Feminist politics is not about the gender divide of one being more peaceful and the other more violent, it rather challenges the foundations of power politics, emphasizing the need for a shift of focus from force to cooperation. If these power structures in the global system based on race, gender and other marginalized groups are redesigned, it could ultimately reduce the frequency and justification of war in global politics.
Bibliography
1. Somit, A. (1990). Humans, chimps and bonobos. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 34(3), 553–582. https://www.jstor.org/stable/174195 (p. 561)
2. Potts, M., & Hayden, T. (2010). Sex and war: How biology explains warfare and terrorism and offers a path to peace. Dallas, TX: BenBella Books. (p. 11)
3. Dawson, D. (1996). The origins of war: Biological and anthropological theories. History and Theory, 35(1), 1–28. https://doi. org/10.2307/2505625 (p. 9)
4. Bowles, S. (2009). Did warfare among ancestral hunter-gatherers affect the evolution of human social behaviors? Science, 324(5932), 1293–1298. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1168112
5. Bowles, S. (2009). Did warfare among ancestral hunter-gatherers affect the evolution of human social behaviors? Science, 324(5932), 1293–1298. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1168112
6. Dawson, D. (1996). The origins of war: Biological and anthropological theories. History and Theory, 35(1), 1–28. https://doi. org/10.2307/2505625 (p. 9)
7. Somit, A. (1990). Humans, chimps and bonobos. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 34(3), 553–582. https://www.jstor.org/stable/174195 (p. 557)
8. Somit, A. (1990). Humans, chimps and bonobos. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 34(3), 553–582. https://www.jstor.org/stable/174195 (p. 557)
9. Goldstein, J. S. (2001). War and gender: How gender shapes the war system and vice versa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (p. 10)
10. Garcia, H. (2019, November). Why do we make war? [Video]. TEDxSanAntonio.
11. Beevor, A. (2002, May 1). The Russian soldiers raped every German female from eight to 80. The Guardian.https://www.theguardian. com/books/2002/may/01/news.features11
12. Beevor, A. (2002, May 1). The Russian soldiers raped every German female from eight to 80. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian. com/books/2002/may/01/news.features11
13. Mountford, H. S., & Newbury, D. F. (2019). The genetics of language acquisition. In J. S. Horst & J. von Koss Torkildsen (Eds.), International handbook of language acquisition (p. 35). London: Routledge.
14. Connell, R. W. (1998). R. W. Connell’s ‘Masculinities’: Reply. Gender and Society, 12(4), 474–477
15. Clausewitz, C. von. (1976). On war (M. Howard & P. Paret, Trans.). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. (p. 87)
16. Vishwanath, A., & Mukund, A. (2022). Feminist foreign policy approaches to strengthen multilateral cooperation. Journal of International Affairs, 75(1), 145–154.
17. UN Women. (2022, September). Feminist foreign policies: An introduction. UN Women. https://www.unwomen.org/sites/default/ files/2022-09/Brief-Feminist-foreign-policies-en.pdf
A Conversation with Dr. Han Van Der Strate
Exploring Interdisciplinarity
In this edition of the Honours Review, we sat down with Dr. Han van der Strate, one of the coordinators at the Honours College, to talk about his role, the value of interdisciplinarity, and how students grow throughout the programme
To begin, can you tell us a little bit about yourself and your role within the Honours College?
I’m currently the Education Coordinator of the Honours College. I originally studied biology and earned my PhD in Groningen, but I found myself more interested in teaching than in doing molecular research. Over time, I became more involved in education, especially through the deepening part of the Honours College within the Faculty of Science and Engineering. In my role now, I help organise courses that bring together ideas and experts from across different disciplines and faculties. That’s what I really enjoy—getting a full picture by mixing perspectives and disciplines. It’s fascinating to see how specialists from completely different fields can connect their research and ideas. Besides this, I am currently following an educational programme that helps me better understand the theory behind pedagogy. It has been valuable in giving me frameworks to reflect on how and why the Honours College works the way it does.
The Honours College prides itself on its interdisciplinary programme where students from different backgrounds work and learn together. How does the Honours College promote this collaboration and what are the challenges that arise when trying to get students from different disciplines to collaborate?
Yes, absolutely. One of our key goals is to encourage students to experiment within their own field while learning how to connect it with others. Every discipline has its own language and ways of thinking, and we want students to step beyond that—beyond their comfort zones. That’s why the programme starts with a skills module: it teaches collaboration, communication, and openness while working on a complex issue. Working in groups, listening, and understanding different approaches is central to solving such issues.
One challenge we’ve noticed post-Covid is that many students aren’t as used to working in teams anymore. That’s why we emphasize group work and learning from each other. For example, at the Honours Festival, students solve a case from the perspective of their own discipline and then collaborate with peers from other disciplines. This can lead to friction or breakthroughs—and both are valuable.
In the end, it’s not just about scientific knowledge. Soft skills such as communication, openness, and willingness to make mistakes are just as important. You have to be able to share your knowledge, not just have it. This requires an open mindset. That’s something I always say is totally different from a regular degree programme — because it’s more of an exchange of perspectives, where you’re working together with students from different disciplines with totally different skill sets. Honours students are already somewhat familiar with the borders of their home-discipline, but we are still asking a lot from second year bachelor students, because I think I only started to see some of these boundaries when I did my Phd. Only then did I really experience where the friction on these boundaries with other disciplines lies and how to identify the possible ways to deal and learn from these frictions. And maybe you think you know already, but still I think you have to experience it before you can see the broader picture. We hope to provide that experience.
You noted that Honours College students need certain skills, like a willingness to make mistakes. Can you elaborate on this and how you try to instill these skills? You should be in the Honours College to make mistakes, you know? That’s also something that is part of getting into the right mindset. If you always receive high grades, maybe you’re not as familiar with failure. But as I said, I think it’s a lot about learning by doing. So, do something! If it goes wrong, it doesn’t matter. You learned something. Regarding the fear of failure; that is probably something more present in Honours students than in students of regular degree programmes. So that’s something that we need to — and hopefully can — help with.
To illustrate, we had a course called ‘Garbage Patchwork’. This was an interdisciplinary course with lectures covering a range of disciplines, but there was no lecturer from law. At the end of the course students had to give a presentation about a specific type of plastic, also in an interdisciplinary group. One law student said in her presentation that she missed a lecture that approached the topic from a legal perspective. And then I thought like ‘Oh, wait a minute, but you yourself can bring this to the group.’ And this is not her fault, instead it all has to do with us creating a safe environment and getting students into the right mindset. If you are missing something in an Honours course from your own discipline, bring it up. It is never wrong to do so. There is always something you can add. That was a moment where I realized we had to change something. That is actually why we started the Interdisciplinary Mindset course. Some students already do this automatically, but some are kind of uncertain. They need to step out of their comfort zone and know that they are allowed to make mistakes.
Lastly, in the Honours College the process is more important than the end results. Students are often used to aiming for a high grade only, but the goal of the HC is all about the process. That’s much more important. You learn by doing. It’s not about what the end product is — not that that’s completely to be ignored — but the process is more important. You need to get used to that. Usually, you might be happy with the course if you get a specific grade, but for us it is more a question of ‘What did you learn from the experience of working in an interdisciplinary team?’. So this is something that I realised that we need to work on explaining to the students. In these aspects it is probably a totally different programme from your regular degree programme. And this should also be the case in the future.
What are the ways in which students can reach out and how do you use that to improve the programme?
Firstly, we always look at the course evaluations. We furthermore ask students from the Programme Committee to talk with their fellow students about their thoughts. But, of course, we should really emphasise in the beginning that we are really there to facilitate you, students, using your own ideas. Asking them ‘How would you like to solve something?’
I think we also need to adapt our course evaluations so that they are not merely critical assessments, but that they become something you do together. You have to co-create course evaluations with the students because when you have typical course evaluations you tend to get less useful answers. We should instead ask questions like: What would you like? How should the course develop? I think it would be really nice if we build the course evaluations in such a way that we can really build on each other. Not really asking questions that demand you to write positive or negative points, but more like ‘how can we actually make it better?’
I think it’s also important, of course, to explain our educational vision to the lecturers. So that they can be in the same mindset. They sometimes have moments during lectures when students want to add something from their own field and the lecturers can feel like their understanding of that other field is limited and might not be open to it.
While actually, these are the kinds of things that I think are key; to give the students the chance and opportunity to connect different disciplines. In the broadening module you study a topic or problem – only through six evenings, and twelve lectures – but you also learn something about the lecturer’s perspective on the topic. And then, as a student, you can add your own perspective, and maybe even one or two more from your fellow students. Because then you’re learning something. Lecturers should remain open — and I believe most are — but it can still be unfamiliar territory for them. They might not be used to having a class of students from all different disciplines.
On that note, I would be curious to hear about how you have seen the Honours College already change. What was it like in the first few years you were working at the Honours College, and how is it different now?
I think interdisciplinarity has always been a motivator for the Honours College. In earlier years, there was more of a focus on skills, but also personal development, which is not that present in regular degree programmes. So that was a big part of the Honours College. The programme, due to financial constraints, has recently been reduced from 45 to 30 ECTS, we have had to focus more. That’s why we changed the personal development part and tried to make the skills more related to interdisciplinarity. In a way, it also helps because students have less time, and so they have to be more focused on one specific topic; interdisciplinarity. Lastly, the students are always changing and, in response, the programme is always developing.
So what are the plans for the future? What do you think the Honours College will look like over the next 10 years?
What I always try to promote is for the Honours College to be a space for innovations in education. Recently, we made a broadening module around earthquakes. At that time, the different faculties had totally different thoughts about this complex issue. So when we tried to build a course around this with lecturers from different disciplines. We presented the idea to several lecturers and there were a lot of different opinions about how to solve the issue. At first, we doubted whether it would be worthwhile to offer a course on the topic. But as they continued discussing we found a lot of insightful friction between the disciplines and at the end of the hour they had developed a broader perspective on the topic. I was totally happy with it, because then they were really engaged to do something around the topic. The different lecturers also indicated that they would like to visit each other’s lectures to dive more into the topic themselves. So you really get more engaged lecturers. And actually the fun thing is that students didn’t like it that much, because they were students from all around the world and they didn’t fully realise the big issue that earthquakes are in the region. So afterwards this became a kind of lecture series for people from Noord-Groningen. We want to facilitate these kinds of projects where complex issues are tackled collaboratively. The Honours College thus wants to be a kind of testing ground for practices in education, because in our programme you can try to co-create new educational forms together with the participating students. So, as lecturer you have the freedom to try these things out and if it’s working you can bring it to your own faculty.
Author Names
Cybercrime’s Loss of Innocence: Marisa Kruppa
Frost: David Bebensee
I was a Castle: David Bebensee
Dream unburdened: Dimitriy Yaroshchuk
Tongue-tilling: Dimitriy Yaroshchuk
The City Has Eyes: Tessa Pino
The Swerve for Justice: Sofia Llull Verdaguer
Gendered legacy of war: Giorgia Kopf
Board Member Names
Organizational/External Officer: Maria Katsanevaki
Editor in Chief: Twan Tromp
Internal Officer: Nicole S. Puchel
PR Officer: Katie McClellan
Peer Review Panel
Alice Rampinelli
Franziska Duerkop
Daniel Gakes
Srishti Bendigeri
Alice Conforti
Shane O’Byrne
Nell Nicks Hardevik
Daria Vorobyeva
Graphic Design
Maya Corrêa
Justus Kruiper
Eke Koch
Photography
Yaela Zijlstra (page 1-2)
other pages:
Justus Kuiper and Maya Corrêa
The Honours Review is a student publication by the Honours College of the University of Groningen, the Netherlands.
We thank our reviewers, authors, and artists from the Minerva Art Academy for their incredible work and support in making this issue. We also extend our gratitude to the Honours College team of the University of Groningen for their help and financial support.
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