May 13, 2001
The Myth of Fingerprints
By SIMON COLE
uture historians of science and law
may well date the beginning of the end of fingerprinting to the opening
night of the third season of "The Sopranos." Coked to the gills, Christopher
Moltisanti, Tony Soprano's nephew, brings Livia Soprano's wake to an absurd
anticlimax as he muses on the claim that no two fingerprints are exactly
alike. For scientists to know this, Christopher reasons, they would have
to get everyone in the world together in one room to check. And not just
everyone in the world, but everyone who ever lived. Since this would be
impossible -- even using computers -- he concludes, "They got nothin."'
He's right, as it turns out. The claim that no fingerprint has ever
appeared twice was first popularized more than a hundred years ago, and
by dint of analogy (with other natural objects like snowflakes), lack of
contradiction and relentless repetition, this bit of folk wisdom became
deeply enshrined. By extension, it lent the technique of forensic fingerprint
analysis an aura of infallibility. More than just a useful tool, it came
to be regarded as a perfect system of identification, and examiners' testimony
at criminal trials came to be practically unassailable.
Until now, that is. In 1998, in Delaware County, Pa., Richard Jackson
was sentenced to life in prison for murder based largely on a fingerprint
match to which three experts had testified. The defense argued, unsuccessfully,
that it was a bad match. But after Jackson spent more than two years in
prison the prosecution conceded the error, and he was freed. In Scotland
a murder case was upended when detectives found a fingerprint at the scene
of the crime that belonged to a police officer -- who claimed she'd never
been there in the first place. To verify her claim, she brought in two
fingerprint analysts who attested that not only had her fingerprint been
misidentified, but so had the print, found on a tin at the home of the
accused, originally attributed to the victim.
As these cases suggest, the relevant question isn't whether fingerprints
could ever be exactly alike -- it's whether they are ever similar enough
to fool a fingerprint examiner. And the answer, it's increasingly, unnervingly
clear, is a resounding yes. A recent proficiency test found that as many
as one out of five fingerprint examiners misidentified fingerprint samples.
In the last three years, defendants in at least 11 criminal cases have
filed motions arguing that fingerprinting does not meet even the basic
requirements for scientific and technical evidence. The first such challenge
-- filed on behalf of Byron Mitchell, who was being tried for robbery --
involved five full days of testimony on the credibility of the technique
by leading fingerprint examiners and academic critics, including myself.
There's no way to say how these cases, some of which are still on appeal,
will be decided, but it is clear that puncturing the myth of fingerprinting's
infallibility and scientific validity poses a grave threat to its century-long
reign.
But ultimately, the most dangerous threat to fingerprinting may be cultural,
not legal. Much of the public's faith in fingerprinting has derived not
from law but from culture: from the ubiquitous use of the fingerprint as
a metaphor (think of chemical and electronic fingerprints); as an icon
(think of advertisements, mystery novels and the Court TV logo) of truth,
science and most of all, individual identity. Our fingerprints were unique,
and, therefore, so were we. As it happens, a new metaphor has arisen just
in time to fill the breach. These days we are increasingly apt to believe
that our individuality is vouched for by the unique arrangement of genetic
material in our cells. And DNA can now do nearly everything that fingerprinting
does. Forensic scientists can recover identifiable DNA samples from ever-smaller
traces of biological material, even the stray cells left by the smudge
of a finger. Forensic DNA profiling, which has notably shed the early nickname
of "DNA fingerprinting," is a perfect match for high-tech millennial sensibilities.
Old-style fingerprinting, with its reliance on human observation and its
correspondence to a romantic notion of our place in the universe looks
. . . well, just so last century.
If this is indeed the beginning of the end of fingerprinting, history
will be repeating itself. A century ago, fingerprinting was the upstart
rival of the world's dominant method of criminal identification: the Bertillon
system, which used 11 bodily measurements, facial features, birthmarks,
scars and tattoos to pinpoint individual identities. The transition to
fingerprinting was treated as proof that the world was growing more rational,
more discerning. But there may well come a time when our own genetically
enhanced descendants find our belief in the power of fingerprinting as
quaint as we find the Bertillon system.
What are we to make of the end of fingerprinting? Not simply that we
are growing steadily less gullible and more scientific. Rather, that the
consensus that coalesces around scientific ideas is more easily built than
we might like to think, that legal and public trust can be won over with
a culturally resonant image. Over the course of history, even those propositions
that seem most indisputable become fragile; our belief in them, fickle.
In this increasingly scientific era, it's a fact worth remembering before
we imbue the next foolproof system with the same aura of infallibility
that we once ascribed to fingerprints.
Simon Cole is the author of "Suspect Identities: A History of Fingerprinting
and Criminal Identification" (Harvard University Press). |