Understanding Criminal Behaviour:
Beyond ‘Red Dragon’1
Faculty of Science Public Lecture Series 2002-3
University College, Cork
John Horgan
Few areas of forensic psychology attract more public interest and generate more misconceptions
than offender profiling. This lecture, and accompanying paper, attempts to review the area, and
considers the nature of approaches to profiling before proceeding to evaluate and discuss their
overall validity and reliability. A critical appraisal of the current evidence suggests that although
there certainly is a limited place for offender profiling as an ancillary tool to police investigations,
albeit for a restrictive range and type of crime, we ought to treat with caution claims to the
validity and successes assumed of current incarnations of profiling. Its immense popularity may
be welcome in drawing attention to the work of forensic psychologists more generally, not least
in Ireland. However, failure to critically consider the practice, extent and accountability of
offender profiling and its practitioners may have unfortunate repercussions for the broader
development of forensic psychology.
Introduction
Since the mid-1990s, forensic psychology has enjoyed an exponential rise in popularity
both in academic settings and in the popular media. Indeed, this is such that it is now the
fastest growing speciality within the discipline of psychology. One primary driving force
behind student and public interest may have been the plethora of popular crime fiction
during that period, especially in film and television. Hollywood blockbusters such as
“Silence of the Lambs”, and more recently “Red Dragon” have successfully whetted the
appetites of would-be profilers drawn to psychology with expectations of becoming the
next Will Graham or Clarice Starling. In fact, at the Department of Applied Psychology
in UCC, we often receive enquiries from people seeking advice on ‘how to get a career in
profiling’. It can come as a bitter disappointment to some then that offender profiling –
generally the practice of deducing behavioural characteristics of an unknown offender
based on an analysis of aspects of that offender’s crime – is neither transparent in its
claimed successes (Silke, 2001), widely practiced (Davis, 1999), or indeed available as an
actual career in itself.
1
An updated, developed version of this lecture is published as Horgan, J., O’Sullivan, D., and
Hammond, S. ‘Offender Profiling: A Critical Perspective’, Irish Journal of Psychology
(forthcoming). Offprints are available directly from the first author. Contact details: Dr. John
Horgan, Department of Applied Psychology, University College, Cork, Ireland. Email:
[email protected].
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In an attempt to dispel such misconceptions it is necessary that we examine the nature
and effectiveness of offender profiling, as well as approaches to it, but a prerequisite is
that we first consider what exactly is meant by forensic psychology.
In general, forensic psychology involves the application of psychological theories,
principles and evidence to legal issues at a variety of levels of the criminal justice system.
Forensic psychologists, may, for instance, assess a defendant’s pre-trial fitness to plead,
advise legal professionals on the nature of interview strategies to be used with particular
kinds of witnesses or suspects, deliver expert testimony within the courtroom, and
sometimes advise on interview strategies used by the police in the interrogation of
suspects and witnesses (Howitt, 2002; Keppel & Walter, 1999).
While some forensic psychologists assist in the recruitment and/or training of police
officers, others provide counselling and psychotherapy services in the context of
occupational management issues, sometimes for problems such as post-traumatic stress
or duty-related victimisation.
Forensic psychology is still in its infancy in Ireland although it thrives in various
jurisdictions including the United Kingdom, several countries in mainland Europe, the
United States and Australia. In Ireland, forensic psychologists are currently found
working in academic settings engaged in teaching and research (on areas such as the
victimisation of children, child pornography, terrorism, delinquency, eyewitness
testimony, offender assessment, etc.), or for the Department of Justice, Equality and Law
Reform, prison and probation services in the assessment, treatment and management of
offenders.
The forensic psychologist may also assist police in their enquiries during a criminal
investigation. It is in this context that forensic psychologists may be ‘called in’ to provide
an offender profile.
Offender profiling
Within the context of criminological history more generally, the professionalisation of
offender profiling is a recent development and its thrust into the media glare has been
nothing less than phenomenal. Unfortunately, this is somewhat of a double-edged sword,
serving to rather obscure the true extent of the encouraging progress of forensic
psychology.
Currently, offender profiling refers to an assortment of practices, all of which entail a
psychologist or some other ‘external’ agency engaging at some level with the police in
order to assist a criminal investigation in some way. While a multitude of definitions
exist, a useful summary is provided by Gary Copson (1995), who defines offender
profiling as:
“Any predictions, recommendations and observations based on the inference
of offender characteristics from behaviour exhibited in a crime or a series of
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crimes, and offered to the investigators as the product of statistical or
clinical expertise” (p.v).
The logic of offender profiling, in the main, is that behaviour expressed in relation to the
commission of a criminal offence (which may be revealed before, during and after the
crime itself) enables the ‘profiler’ to draw conclusions about the dynamics of that
person's behaviour and personality (Michaud, 1986; Porter, 1983). In other words,
features of the crime scene are assumed to reflect features of the offender’s behaviour and
personality, such that understanding the nature of the crime scene and offence, we
presume to understand something of the offender (Davis, 1999). This may reveal clues as
to how offenders behave in everyday life, how they may be ‘distinct’ in some particular
ways from others, what may be motivating them to offend in particular ways. A principal
task of the profiler then is to dilute such deductions or inferences into a usable form for
the police investigators. While the profile will not identify the criminal per se, the profile
aims to help police investigators become “more attentive to individuals who fit that
profile” (Davis, 1999, p.292).
The earliest documented case of forensic analyses involving attempts at profiling
perpetrators probably date to forensic analyses of Jack the Ripper’s victims during the
Whitechapel murder cases of the late 19th century (Turvey, 1999). Turvey describes how
police surgeon Dr. George Phillips began to offer character inferences based on his
minute examination of the nature of the wounds inflicted on the killer’s victims and the
careful removal of their bodily organs.
Profiling also appears to have a basis in attempts to conduct personality assessments of
political leaders ‘at a distance’. The predecessor of the US Central Intelligence Agency,
the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) requested a profile of Adolf Hitler from
psychiatrist William Langer. Langer’s profile was solicited to attempt to inform the
interrogation strategy proposed should Hitler be captured or otherwise defeated (Canter,
1994). Langer successfully predicted that Hitler would choose to take his own life rather
than face capture.
One of the most celebrated early examples of profiling, however, comes from 1950s New
York, and derives from Dr. James Brussel’s psychiatric profile of a serial offender,
dubbed the “Mad Bomber” by the press. George Metesky, a disgruntled ex-employee of a
local utility company, detonated over 30 explosive devices in locations all over the city.
Brussel, a firm advocate of characterology and similar approaches that had dominated
19th century criminology, not only argued that “certain mental illnesses were associated
with certain physical builds”, but also advocated during the Mad Bomber case the
“diagnosis of an unknown offender’s mental disorders from behaviours evident in their
crime-scenes” (Turvey, 1999, p.7). Brussel’s profile became popularised when his
prediction that the offender would be wearing a buttoned, double-breasted suit was
realized when the police came to question Metesky.
Today, offender profiles tend to have one or more of the following objectives:
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1) The development of a description of an unknown offender, based on an
interpretation of crime scene elements of the unsolved offence (this is perhaps the
broadest, and most common purpose of profiling);
2) Establishing the probability of a future offence from the same offender based on
the crime scene analysis;
3) The linking of a series of unsolved crimes that appear to share distinct features
(e.g. often through linking ‘signature aspects’ – essentially personalized offenderspecific behaviours that reflect individual interpersonal behaviour and/or fantasy);
4) The development of an interrogation strategy to assist police in ‘asking the right
questions’. Again, this is based on a psychological portrait inferred from an
analysis of the crime scene and/or statistical data from offenders thought similar
to the unknown subject;
The profile then is the production of these types of information for the police in the hope
that it will somehow assist their efforts, even if only to help narrow down a list or ‘type’
of potential suspects.
In the main, profiling appears to be most useful in cases that suggest some psychological
disorder in the offender, especially in attempting to ‘profile’ personality from crimespecific behaviour, or in a series of unsolved crimes that suggest patterned or distinct
offence-relevant behaviours. Indeed, given these limitations, current concerns about the
broadening remit of profiling may be warranted in light of existing efforts to assert its
validity even within the remit of a relatively small number and type of offences. We
should realise then that profiling lends itself to use in quite a narrow type of investigation.
Profiles appear in cases of child abuse, abduction, but most typically in serious crimes of
a serial nature including burglary, rape, arson, and murder.
For the most part, the profiler is consulted in the late stages of investigation, and
examines the crime scene from a distance via materials provided by the police, and often,
but not exclusively, when police leads have been exhausted. It is something of a myth
that psychologists regularly visit crime scenes, although it does happen from time to time.
Typically, the information made available to a profiler will include case documents on
the crime scene, victim-related information, forensic information, including a
pathologist’s report, preliminary police reports, and a variety and range of photographs.
The profiler will also draw on a degree of personal experience or expertise relating to
knowledge of both the type of crime in question as well as the type of criminal suggested
from the analysis of the crime. It is important that the profiler should possess
criminological knowledge central to suggesting probable demographic attributes. In
some cases, the profiler, if a psychologist, will rely on experience from clinical case
studies, statistical models of offending and other potentially useful contributions. Overall,
however, the profile is basically a summary document, often not more than 6-10 pages,
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rooted in personal judgements, a degree of educated guesswork, common sense and logic,
and statistical and clinical probabilities. The profile is certainly not predicated on any
specific ‘absolutes’ (Ainsworth, 2000).
Profiles typically contain predictions of such information such as the offender’s sex,
approximate age, race and other general characteristics (Ault & Reese, 1980). Usually,
profiles contain suggestions related to whether or not the offender is likely to offend
again, whether or not the offender may be forensically aware (i.e. perhaps through prior
experience of the criminal justice system – e.g. via prior arrest - or through knowledge
gained perhaps through textbooks on criminal investigations or forensic analyses, or in
fact through previously undetected offences). In cases involving a sexual offence the
profile might suggest details of the degree of sexual maturity of the offender or the role of
specific fantasy themes in the offending behaviour (Turvey, 1999). Profiles may often
also contain information related to the offender’s likely responses to police questioning
and can result in the profile providing suggestions about the interrogative strategy to the
police (often of particular use in rape cases (Keppel & Walter, 1999)).
An important step in the production of a profile entails a reconstruction of the
offence. The focus here is on the interaction between the offender and victim. Victim
statements can thus be critical in order to ascertain the nature of verbal and physical
behaviour displayed by the offender. The profile may then convey some form of
classification of the offence. This can be important in indicating the likelihood of a reoffence in the future, so that the police and other agencies involved in the investigation
may develop an intervention strategy aimed at warning a potential victim or group of
victims (which may be symbolic or otherwise representative of the first known victim of
a possible series).
The above description of what profiling involves and the kinds of information provided
probably represent a non-controversial view of profiling. Whatever the differences that
might exist among the offender profiling community about some specific features of
profiling, there are some fundamentally critical points we need to bear in mind. Given the
multivariate nature of approaches to profiling, it is worth briefly describing the principal
approaches currently dominating the practice. These are, in order of their systematic
development: the FBI approach, the clinical psychological approach, the empirical datadriven approach (often encompassed under ‘investigative psychology’ or sometimes even
‘statistical profiling’ in the UK), and more recently, the geographical approach.
1. The FBI approach
The FBI’s Behavioural Science Unit, now its Behavioural Sciences Investigative Support
Services Unit (BSISSU), is the United States’ best-known clearinghouse for investigative
queries that merit the production of an offender profile (Davis, 1999; Michaud, 1986;
Porter, 1983). Typically, such requests derive from exhausted investigations at local
levels, or involve the flagging of a series of unsolved crimes, typically murder, spanning
two or more federal jurisdictions.
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The BSISSU, and the FBI’s entire approach to offender profiling developed primarily
from research conducted from the 1970s through to the early 1980s that saw FBI agents
interview and conduct detailed research on 36 imprisoned serial murderers (Ressler,
Burgess & Douglas, 1988) and build on that data through a mixture of personal
experience, intuition and educated guesswork.
The serial killer research represents the data pool from which the logical underpinnings
and statistical assumptions made about unidentified offenders (i.e. the unknown subject
of the profiles) were derived. All were male, and while 29 of the 36 were immediately
classified as serial killers, all of the offenders were suspected of having killed multiple
other victims. The nature of these offenders’ crimes was what allowed them to be typified
as a relatively homogenous group: often their murders involved elements of sexual
sadism, mutilation and often bizarre and/or ritualistic imagery or behaviour. The
relevance of these features, apart from suggesting broad psychological ‘problems’, was
unclear to investigating officers and the FBI’s unit was turned to in order to decipher
possible clues as to the ‘personality’ and ‘mental make-up’ of suspects in these types of
criminal cases.
In general, the FBI dichotomised the crime scenes of this group of offenders into two
broad categories – organised and disorganised (Ressler et al., 1988; Turvey, 1999).
Organised crime scenes reflected an overall level of control and planning, with offenders
bringing their own weapons with them and generally coming prepared. The organised
offenders carefully planned their offence, often using restraints in subduing the victim.
Again reflecting an overall level of organisation, the organised offender would take care
to transport the victim to a predetermined location both in the execution of the offence or
sometimes post-mortem to hide the location of the body. The victim of the organised
offender would be ‘personalised’, in that while the victim may have been a stranger, they
were seen to represent a vital element of the offender’s fantasy (Ressler et al., 1988).
Disorganised crime scenes on the other hand reflected polar opposites. The crimes often
appeared the result of unplanned, spontaneous ‘blitz’-style attacks, often subsequently
resulting in greater levels of exhibited violence reflecting an overall lack of planning and
forethought. The overall crime scenes were ‘chaotic’, with little effort made to conceal
either the victim, or materials used in the offence (e.g. weapons).
Both the organised and disorganised crimes were then correlated with characteristics of
the offender sample. Offenders with organised crime scene behaviour were found to
possess an average or above average intelligence level, were socially and sexually
competent, often living with a partner, were mobile (with a car), and often had a degree
of negative stress precipitating the crime itself (e.g. through personal turmoil at home, at
work, etc.). The organised offenders typically not only follow the reported progress of the
criminal investigation through the media, but would even change jobs or leave town as a
result.
Offenders who displayed disorganised crime scene behaviour, on the other hand, were
found to have below average intelligence levels, were socially, sexually and
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occupationally unskilled, were reported to be quite anxious during the commission of the
crime, lived alone, and would not bother to ‘follow’ the news reports or make subsequent
efforts to purposely avoid detection (Ressler et al., 1988).
While the organised offenders’ behaviour and personality appear to reflect psychopathic
behaviour (with the offender very much aware of their behaviour), the disorganised
offenders were more typically representative of the presence of some psychotic disorder
(Turvey, 1999).
Howitt (2002) praises the FBI research for essentially producing a valuable body of
knowledge from such a small sample size of offenders. The FBI model served as the
blueprint for the hundreds of profiles constructed by the Unit annually.
However, their findings and practices on which they were based have not escaped
criticism. Canter (1994, p.10) reminds us that the term ‘offender profiling’ was created by
the FBI, but that in doing so, they had inadvertently “created the impression of a package,
a system that was sitting waiting to be employed, rather than the mixture of craft,
experience and intellectual energy that they themselves admit is at the core of their
activities”. It is generally recognised that the FBI approach does not easily conform to
the rigours of scientific research (Godwin, 1998), and the dangers of both
overgeneralisation and oversimplification are clear from the nature and extent of the
research from which this dichotomy arose. In particular, trenchant criticism is offered by
Turvey (1999), who asserts that the organised-disorganised dichotomy is essentially a
false one, arising from “mistaken ideas about the developmental nature of criminal
behaviour and the value of crime-scene reconstruction” (p.148). This, Turvey argues, can
lead to confusion during the process of profiling as well as a failure to understand how a
particular offender’s behaviour may develop over time. The problem of the categories not
being mutually exclusive is also an issue raised by Godwin (1998), with the FBI
developing a third category (‘mixed’) into which some offenders who display elements of
both ‘organisation’ and ‘disorganisation’ are placed, or sometimes when the likelihood of
the presence of more than one offender exists (Davis, 1999).
To this day, the FBI (currently referring to their approach as ‘criminal investigative
analysis’) do not make any aspirations to the development of profiling as a scientific
endeavour, instead emphasising the primary role of basic ‘on the job’ law enforcement
experience as the best predictor of success in dealing with such crimes.
2. The clinical psychological approach
This form of profiling typically is performed by clinical psychologists or psychiatrists
who rely more heavily on clinical data and models of offending, although as Silke (2001)
asserts, the clinician will prefer to regard each case as unique thereby deserving a detailed
case-specific analysis and classification. In contrast to the FBI approach, clinical profiles
suggest that less effort is made to fit the offender into what essentially may be an
unsuitably rigid classification type, and rather than relying on investigative experience,
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the clinician relies on drawing inferences from expertise or experience with similar
crimes and offenders, often in forensic and/or mental health settings.
Given the increasing specialisation engaged in by psychologists (and forensic
psychologists in particular), this form of profiling may on the surface appear quite potent
for the police investigators: if the police consider consulting a psychologist on a rape
investigation, there are several ‘rape experts’ available for consultation, whereas if the
case involves serial arson attacks, one of several ‘arson experts’ are consulted, and so
forth. In sum, individual skills and specialities are available for exploitation to their
fullest potential.
Clinical profiling is not without its faults however, and despite the overtly
‘psychological’ base to this offender profiling approach, clinical profiling is not a
uniformly discrete process. For example, clinical profilers could easily arrive at different
profiles from the same profile inputs. This can reflect differences in the professional
backgrounds and training of the clinicians as well as differences in their theoretical
orientation within the discipline of psychology. Unfortunately, for the nature of the
information provided to the police, what can follow from this is that different importance
can be attached to interpreting aspects of the crime scene. In the context of efforts to
establish the scientific credibility of offender profiling, the clinical approach could then
be criticised as conceptually weak (i.e. we may in fact be simply identifying differences
in the styles and procedures of individual profilers). A related limitation here is that in
dealing with such an individualistic approach, there may be little sense of transparency
regarding how the profiler arrives at his/her conclusions.
From the police perspective, however, a traditional difficulty with clinical profiles is that
much of the information provided could be interpreted as of little practical use to them.
Some clinical profiles highlight issues to do with the significance of the murders to the
offenders, “internal conflicts and fantasy life” (Canter, 1989, p.12), all of which Canter
argues “are hidden from view and therefore not readily open to conventional police
investigation”.
3. The empirical data-driven approach
Given that a major focus in offender profiling has been the classification of offences it is
natural that a number of statistical approaches would emerge to address the problem. In
fact, such developments were inhibited in the early years of offender profiling due to the
fact that raw data was sparse and statistical treatments tended to be rather descriptive in
tone (Perkins, Hilton & Lucas, 1990). However, with the advent of efficient database
development the scope for statistical treatment of behavioural offence data has broadened
and become well established. The CATCHEM database was probably one of the first in
the UK developed by Derbyshire Police in response to the murder of three young girls
(Aitken et al., 1995; Smith 1990). Other databases quickly emerged (Davies, Wittebrood
& Jackson, 1997; Grubin & Gunn, 1990; Heritage, 1992) and the UK Police now
typically use the VICAP (Violent Criminal Apprehension Program) system originally
developed in Canada.
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The statistical procedures used vary enormously from Linear Discriminant Function
Analysis and Logistic Regression (Davies et al., 1997; Smith 1990) through
Multidimensional Scaling and Cluster Analysis (Canter & Heritage 1990; Grubin, Kelly
& Brundson, 2001) to the more statistically sophisticated Baysian Belief Networking
(e.g. Aitken et al., 1996).
One of the more prolific advocates of the data driven approach is Professor David Canter
at the University of Liverpool; he is one of the leading advocates of the development of
‘investigative psychology’ in the UK. Canter (1989; 1994) encourages an empirical
approach to profiling based on the collation of offence and offender characteristics and
their subjection to statistical modelling in order to support any inferences of profile
characteristics. The technique primarily employed by Canter and his colleagues (e.g.
Canter & Heritage 1990) was multidimensional scaling (MDS) in which offences and/or
their features were represented as points in space. The closer two points are found to be
the more similar they are assumed to be. The specific techniques employed by Canter
and his team derive from the work of Louis Guttman who developed the principle of
‘smallest space’ (Guttman, 1968). Thus the MDS methods typically used are usually
known as ‘smallest space analysis’ (SSA). Such an approach is essentially a way of
developing a categorisation system of offender behaviours (e.g. violent behaviour,
impersonal behaviour, intimacy behaviour etc.) thought to be crucial to understanding the
interaction between offender and victim. As such it is a procedure for identifying and
recognising patterns in large, complex datasets (Salfati, 2000). A major advantage of
this data analytic approach over many of the others is that MDS is very forgiving of
sparse and ‘muddy’ data, making very few assumptions about distributions or sample
size.
The data from each offence are inputted into the model and the profiler may be able to
ascertain the likelihood of a series of offences. Where some surface elements may ‘flag’ a
possible series, SSA attempts to assess the statistical probability of the offence being
committed by the same offender, owing to similarities and trends in offender-victim
interaction styles, before, during, and after the commission of the offence (also see Canter
& Larkin, 1993).
On the surface, the fact than an approach to profiling has proceeded with due caution paid
to developing a theoretical basis is regarded as a positive development. Such an
approach, if valid, would see the relative subjectivity of clinical judgement removed from
the profiling process. This is because the profile would be rooted in empirical research
and statistical probabilities deriving from a datapool of known offenders. What
distinguishes the statistical approach however, and this is indicative of how openly
critical Canter is of the FBI approach, is explained by Howitt (2002): the objectivity of
such an approach may indeed represent a favourable feature, but the conclusions from
such profiles may “not necessarily [be] more helpful to the investigators” (p.219), with
the possibility of missing “salient features of individual cases” (Silke, 2001, p.245) an
inevitable result of generalising across such large datasets (also see Turvey, 1999).
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One weakness that the data-driven approach has when compared to the clinical approach
is that the latter may be of use in bringing experience to bear on a number of wider, yet
equally pertinent issues. The statistical profile in isolation will not be able to offer
inferences about the perpetrator’s background or other predisposing influences (and how
these might influence the nature and/or extent of the offence in question).
However, when considered with the geographical approach, to be described next, such
data-driven approaches to profiling still represent the most encouraging progress made to
date to support the assumptions and assertions inherent in profiling construction.
4. The geographical approach
This approach is probably the most recent, and is most commonly associated with the
work of Kim Rossmo (1995, 1997). The basis for geographical profiling is that it may be
possible to locate the probable residential or employment base of a criminal. This is
based on an analysis of apparent patterns in the criminal’s offence characteristics. The
theoretical underpinnings of this approach essentially borrow, as above, from
mathematical and statistical models, but are interpreted on an individual basis through the
filters of environmental and cognitive psychology.
The approach involves assumptions about the spatial dimensions to behaviour (not
necessarily ‘criminal’), and as such Rossmo’s method is typically associated with the
need to understand the relevance of factors such as routine behaviour patterns of victims,
the location of the offence, demographic attributes of the surrounding environment, etc.
(Woodhams, 2002).
Encouragingly, geographical profiling does incorporate findings from other approaches.
Canter and Larkin’s (1993) work on serial rapists for instance suggests that offenders
operate within distinctive “offence regions”. Their analysis of 45 male serial rapists
illustrated that some serial offenders (the ‘marauders’) tend to hunt in areas with which
they are familiar: 87% of the sample move outwards from their home base to conduct
their attacks. Canter and Larkin also proposed the existence of ‘commuters’, thought to
travel to a ‘target location’ both to hunt for and victimise targets.
Canter and Larkin’s analysis demonstrated that offenders not only operate within
distinctive regions but that the distance travelled tends to correlate directly with the
distances between offences. The authors argue for the existence of ‘domocentric’
behaviour in rapists, and suggest that the principles offered may be useful for testing in
other, non-criminal behaviours (e.g. shopping, the search for new homes, etc.) (also see
Brantingham & Brantingham, 1981; LeBeau, 1987).
There are now a variety of computer software packages that will produce a colourful geospatial map of an area once the profiler has inputted the locations of a series of crimes.
One of these is the Rigel program (Woodhams, 2002), which takes the profiling input
details of several crimes and presents then a 2D or 3D surface map, displaying the
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“probable location of offender residence or employment using different colours”
(Woodhams, 2002, p.36).
Apart from the program taking, at times, up to two weeks to deliver its surface map,
Turvey (1999) chastises the method for being about as “enlightening” as sticking pins on
a big map and points to the perpetual error made by this and other forms of profiling in
that an attempt is made to infer “meaning” from behaviours which are often taken “out of
the overall behaviour and emotional context that it was produced in” (p.262).
Nevertheless, geographical profiling represents an interesting development, and will
continue to be tested in combination with data-driven approaches.
Does profiling work?
Current approaches to offender profiling do not easily lend themselves to objective,
empirical evaluation. In some cases, this is due to the wide variety of practices and
procedures (let alone the assumptions underpinning the appropriateness or otherwise of
subsequent deductive/inductive decision-making styles with which to reach conclusions)
that may constitute ‘offender profiling’ per se, as we will see below. It may well be the
case that an attempt to evaluate the validity of profiles may tell us more about differences
between the training, background and professional orientation of the profilers themselves
than any firm conclusions about assumed uniformity in the practice of profiling. Given
this, we ought to state that any profile must exist solely as an ancillary tool to a police
investigation: it is essential that the profile be viewed as such and its limitations
recognised both by profilers as well as the police.
This question ‘does profiling work?’ is not as easy to answer as we might imagine, and
indeed we may be forced to consider this question from a variety of perspectives,
diverging agendas and mixed outcomes. A direct answer assumes that profiles have
explicit objectives and that there is a sense of rigour associated with the refinement and
development of profiling practices. Unfortunately, neither represents the current reality of
offender profiling and numerous practical, conceptual and theoretical issues contribute to
the complexity of any attempt to evaluate the effectiveness and utility of offender
profiling.
To begin with, we ought to perhaps reiterate the immense task faced by the very prospect
of profiling. The profiler is essentially constructing a set of relatively subjective
judgements and offering hypotheses about a person whom the profiler has never met. The
potential for failure is therefore quite high (failure to reliably predict behaviour is already
a challenge in everyday clinical assessment cases when the psychologist has access to the
client). Some profiles are so vague as to be practically useless to the police, while others
are so specific as to invite a complete lack of corroboration on key features. In less
fortunate cases, this may end up skewing the nature of a police investigation, as the
examples to follow illustrate.
A significant problem in assessing profiling methodology involves lack of transparency.
In cases in which psychologists contribute, these are usually high-profile criminal
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investigations with an unrelenting glare of publicity on any technique used by the police,
especially anything remotely novel: the need for transparency and clarity is therefore of
paramount importance for all parties involved. It may not be so difficult to answer why
there are so few profiling cases made available for subsequent dissection and analysis –
we rarely hear of or see the failures. It is essential for the development of profiling that
the nature of the items provided in profiles must be individually assessed following the
conclusion of an investigation. This would allow us to check for instance, which aspects
of the profile have been correct, and which have been incorrect. It is inevitably the ‘hits’
we hear about through the media – often specific items of information provided in the
profile will be over-exaggerated in their importance (as evident in the Brussel case), but
the ‘misses’ still tend to be shrouded in embarrassment and acrimony, with no clear sense
of what was ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ about the profile. Relying on simplistic ‘accuracy rates’ to
ascertain whether or not profiling works can thus be misleading. Without access to
failures as well as successes, our conceptual development of this area will remain limited,
particularly regarding how we might refine the nature of profiling objectives to more
discrete, and possibly as a result, more achievable goals.
While most profilers operate alone in the construction of their profile, ‘group’
profiling is not necessarily more reliable: the team of psychologists and psychiatrists
established during the 1960s recommended to the police that the murders later associated
with Albert deSalvo, the “Boston Strangler”, were actually committed by two men, “each
of whom lived alone and probably worked as a schoolteacher” (Porter, 1983, p.3) and one
of whom was thought to be homosexual. In fact deSalvo lived with a wife, two children,
worked in the construction industry and as Porter reminds us, “would never have been
found by any of the policemen assigned to search the city’s homosexual community”
(p.3).
With this in mind, we should also note that the simplicity of definitions of profiling can
be deceptive in evaluating the effectiveness of the practice(s) of profiling (Howitt, 2002).
After all, all of the practices described in these forms of profiling reflect extremely
complex psychological issues that relate to behavioural consistency (i.e. incorporating
notions that we can actually derive any meaningful deductions or inferences at all from
crime scene ‘behaviours’ that enlighten us as to what ‘type’ of person the offender might
represent and the assumption that there is consistency in certain behaviours and
personality traits more generally), the homogeneity of types of offenders (a point
certainly represented in the FBI approach), and a host of other issues that, without
empirical research and hypothesis testing, leave aspirations to the scientific bases of
profiling wide open to easy criticism. The central hypothesis of profiling, according to
Canter and Heritage (1990) remains that “offenders differ in their actions when
committing a crime and that these differences reflect (and therefore correlate with)
overtly available features of the offender” p.187) – but this is certainly a hypothesis open
to empirical testing. If profiling is to be scientific (hence empirical), Boon (cited in
Woodhams, 2002, p.34-35) argues that we must accept that profiles must be falsifiable
and be “aiming to make a model of reality”. Boon argued that these difficulties could be
overcome in approaches to profiling, but that true empiricism is probably too great a goal
to aspire to. For present purposes, however, we can agree that the self-correcting nature
of the scientific method is absent from most approaches to profiling, and the
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unfalsifiability of both the methods and principles underpinning the conclusions of
profiles is akin to the conceptual problems that have plagued psychoanalytic analyses. In
fact, it might come as no surprise to its detractors that psychoanalytic notions remain
common in clinical profiles, and despite their unfalsifiability, their persistence owes
much to historical precedents: in Brussel’s profile of the Mad Bomber, the psychiatrist
deduced that Metesky hated his father but would love his mother - this derived from
Brussel’s interpretation of the way in which Metesky “rounded out the sharp points in his
W’s so that they resembled cartoon versions of a woman’s breasts” (in Porter, 1983, p.2).
Even if such assumptions are empirically tested, there are a variety of practical matters
we must consider in relation to strengthening the reliability of the methods used in
profiling and the processes than underpin them. For a start, the quality of the information
provided to the profiler (aside at all from any conceptual issues arising from inferring
motive or deducing behavioural characteristics from behavioural ‘indicators’) is
absolutely crucial to the process of producing a reliable profile. And, as with the
criticisms levelled at the clinical approach, it is inevitable that some data sources will
play a more significant role for individual profilers. It is not inconceivable that single
pieces of profiling input data may serve to skew the direction, nature and results of any
particular profile, regardless of what ‘kind’ of profiling produced it.
Evaluations of the effectiveness of profiling continue to be very rare, with literally less
than half a dozen such studies in existence (Copson, 1995; Jackson et al., 1993; Kocsis,
1995, Pinizzota, 1984). Perhaps the most enlightening appraisal of offender profiling is
that produced by, helpfully, a police officer. In 1995, Gary Copson, of the Metropolitan
Police Service in London, conducted a ‘consumer survey’ of profiling activities. Copson
(1995) scrutinised over 180 cases in which police investigators made use of 29 offender
profilers, all psychologists or psychiatrists.
In general, just over half the sample of police officers felt that they had received ‘some
additional information’, although when pressed, this amounted to 14% of the sample
agreeing that the profile had actually contributed in a practical way towards solving the
crime in question. Corroborated in Copson’s analysis is the fact that profiles therefore
rarely lead the police to the direct or immediate identification of an offender: although
this remains one of the core myths of profiling, Copson reported only 3% of cases in
which this appeared to happen.
The results are not all so negative however, and we have some reason for considering
other yardsticks for measuring the effectiveness of profiling. One positive finding from
Copson’s study was that over 60% of police officers surveyed felt that it was helpful to
have the profiler present. Many of these officers reported having been given a sense of
reassurance and encouragement in the formulation of their own opinions and decisions,
and having ‘experts’ on hand to reinforce those judgements felt beneficial. Consequently,
about the same number of officers reported that they would certainly consult a profiler in
future.
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The issue of difficulty in establishing the criteria for success was certainly illustrated in
the Copson study. However, the profilers’ information (most of whom would have
identified with the ‘clinical’ approach) appeared largely correct in over 2/3 of the data
provided, but unfortunately, and again owing to the lack of empirical work on such cases
following the conclusion of investigations, we are not clear on what kinds of information
(and what patterns if any exist within and between them) the 1/3 of ‘incorrect’ data
consisted of.
Conclusions
According to Silke (2001, p.243), offender profiling currently suffers from an identity
crisis, with descriptions synonymous with ‘offender profiling’ including: “psychological
profiling, criminal personality profiling, criminal personality assessment, criminal
behaviour profiling, offender profiling, criminal profiling or investigative profiling”.
Taken together with the multitudinal range of objectives expected (and proffered) within
and from offender profiles, it is little wonder then that offender profiling remains “neither
a readily identifiable nor a homogenous entity” (Gudjonsson & Copson, 1997, cited in
Ainsworth, 2000, p.103; also see Homant and Kennedy, 1998 for suggestions to
encourage distinctions between profiles in relation to their objectives). Although a sense
of diversity in the area is important for theoretical progress, Bekerian and Jackson (1997)
warn that too much diversity can lead to – and in the case of offender profiling to date,
has led to – unintentional fragmentation and confusion. Given the relatively mixed results
of profiling to date, we need to point to other influences to explain why offender profiling
still occupies its distorted reputation and rather undeserved recognition.
Part of this identity crisis is grounded in confusion about whether profiling necessarily
requires a scientific basis. In asking whether offender profiling currently ought to be
considered more an ‘art’, or soft science than anything remotely resembling sound
empiricism, the current reality of profiling, and ‘current’ is emphasised, probably reflects
an uneasy and perpetually shifting combination of both – the amount of each tends to
alternate, sometimes dramatically so, from profiler to profiler and case to case. For a
person to claim competence at any activity that might constitute the description of
‘profiling’, an in-depth knowledge and understanding of the specific type of offender
under scrutiny, as well as issues relating to the offence, is essential. Boon (cited in
Woodhams, 2002) asserts that offender profiling contains elements of ‘art’ in that
experience and creative talent play strong roles in the process of deducing a profile.
The profiler should certainly clarify to the investigation team exactly what information he
or she is likely to be able to offer and what the implications of that information might
entail. This assumes, of course, that the profiler is very clear on what information is
likely to be of use to the police. Sometimes profiles contain such jargon as to be of little
practical relevance for the investigation team. The importance of recognising and
acknowledging one’s limitations as a potential contributor to a police investigation
cannot be overstated. According to Turvey (1999, p.266), investigators should only
“enlist the services of competent professionals who are willing to engage in frank
discussions about the limitations of their method.” Similarly, the police need to realise
that it is unrealistic for any person, psychologist or otherwise, to possess an expert level
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of knowledge and understanding of every type of offence and offender. There have been
past instances where profilers have been quick to offer assistance to any number and
variety of offences, and the consequences have been damaging to existing attempts to
develop the scientific qualities of profiling.
According to Silke (2001), less than about 2% of all forensic psychologists will ever
engage in offender profiling. The reality of profiling remains such that although
Ainsworth (2000) describes the rate of profiling as increasing on an annual basis, it is still
not nearly as common as we might like to imagine. Although the FBI consistently and
systematically deliver profiles, UK and European practice is somewhat more contained
and restricted. And while it may be at least of some comfort that the majority of the
media-friendly profilers offering their unbridled assessments on the recent Washington
snipers case were not psychologists, it can only take one public relations disaster to call
into question not only offender profiling, but the parent speciality or even discipline
espoused by the profiler.
This was probably the only clear outcome of a lengthy and misguided police
investigation in the UK that began with the murder of a young woman and ended with
calls for offender profiling to be dismissed outright. Rachel Nickell was walking on
Wimbledon Common with her young son, and in broad daylight was stabbed to death in a
frenzied, vicious attack. Forensic psychologist Paul Britton was asked to help the
investigation, and was specifically asked to provide a profile of the likely offender.
Before long, the police identified nearby resident, Colin Stagg, as a possible fit to
Britton’s profile, but had no incriminating evidence to ensure his conviction. The police
found a sexual fantasy letter in Stagg’s apartment that Britton subsequently took as
support for his profile theory that the killer would possess violent, sexualised fantasies.
Britton subsequently advised the police to pursue a ‘honey-trap’ operation to ensnare
Stagg (Wilson & Soothill, 1996). Using an undercover female police officer to engage in
a relationship with Stagg, the officer (who used the pseudonym “Lizzie James”) would
offer Stagg sex in return for his admission that he was capable of the kind of crime that fit
the profile of the Nickell case. During the six-month undercover operation, however,
Stagg held firm and although he eventually admitted to “Lizzie” that he had been quizzed
by police investigating the murder, he adamantly denied he was responsible in any way
for it. After a lengthy investigation, the police team was still no closer to identifying
Nickell’s killer, and following a hearing at the Old Bailey, Britton’s role in leading the
investigation was “strongly condemned” by the presiding judge (Wilson & Soothill,
1996, p.13). The police were also openly pilloried for uncritically accepting the guidance
of the psychologist and allowing him to apparently exceed the boundaries expected of
any external support provided to the police.
Although the lessons were learned by the police as far as maintaining an objective
distance with psychologists was concerned, it is not merely the interests of individual
profilers that can suffer (after all, Canter, the most vocal critic of Britton, argued that
profiling itself was not at fault in this case, but that Britton himself had been unscientific:
“what we’re dealing with here [in Britton’s analysis] is opinion presented as if it’s based
on a great deal of expertise” (Wilson & Soothill, 1996, p.13).
15
Fortunately, one thing that unites all critics (constructive or otherwise) of offender
profiling is an acknowledgement of the lack of empirical research and the need to attempt
to develop a sense of rigour throughout offender profiling practices (Salfati, 2000). This
is inevitable if profiling itself is to develop, but is equally valid if forensic psychology
should continue to be associated with profiling in any way. Through extensive hypothesis
testing of the assumptions that informally underpin approaches to profiling, we should be
able to move profiling beyond its depressingly introspective equation to “the Rorschach
Test in the hands of the skilled technician” (Turco, 1990, p.150). That such empirical
testing is possible is evident from some imaginative work to date (e.g. Kocsis, Irwin,
Hayes, & Nunn, 2000).
Given the infancy of forensic psychology in Ireland, confusion and false expectations in
relation to the potential development of forensic psychology represent possible realities
that neither the police nor psychologists can afford to entertain. We only do so through
lack of openness, and the danger of any police force uncritically accepting psychological
services are obvious in light of the Rachel Nickell case. As Ainsworth (2000) reminds us,
although there is strong evidence to support the increasingly steady relationships between
psychologists and the police, the expectations of police investigators of offender
profiling, as well as the psychologists who engage in it, must be realistic, the process and
its conclusions must be clear, intelligible, and perhaps most of all, open to scrutiny.
Anything less than this would represent a disservice to both psychologists and the police.
We will conclude with mention of an issue, identified by Canter (1989), but which may
certainly be relevant to the Irish context. Canter asserts:
“police officers are unlikely to admit psychologists to their investigations unless
some mutual trust and reciprocal benefit is expected. This is a tricky cycle to break into,
because it is difficult to make a contribution until some experience has been gained, yet
difficult to gain experience until some contribution can be offered” (p.13).
If offender profiling is ever to be considered in Ireland should the need arise, this
fundamental challenge must be openly and successfully addressed by both the police and
forensic psychologists. For the moment, however, the initial onus may well be on
psychologists to demonstrate the relevance of their contributions to forensic settings. That
this is already happening (e.g. Taylor & Quayle, 2003) represents encouraging progress.
16
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