MARGINALITY, POWER, AND SOCIAL STRUCTURE: ISSUES IN RACE, CLASS, AND GENDER
RESEARCH IN RACE AND ETHNIC RELATIONS Series Editor: Rutledge M. Dennis Recently Published Volumes: Volume 10: The Black Intellectuals – Edited by Rutledge M. Dennis Volume 11: The Sociology of Oliver C. Cox – Edited by Herbert Hunter
RESEARCH IN RACE AND ETHNIC RELATIONS VOLUME 12
MARGINALITY, POWER, AND SOCIAL STRUCTURE: ISSUES IN RACE, CLASS, AND GENDER EDITED BY
RUTLEDGE M. DENNIS Department of Sociology and Anthropology, George Mason University, USA
2005
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Dedicated to my Grandchildren Shay, Justin, Desiree, Shaphan and Cierra With love, Papa
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CONTENTS LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
ix PART I
THE AGE OF MARGINALITY Rutledge M. Dennis
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PART II: DEFINING MARGINALITY: HISTORICAL AND CONTEMPORARY PERSPECTIVES MARGINALITY: A CONCEPTUAL EXTENSION Robert J. Dunne
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NO OWNER OF SOIL: REDEFINING THE CONCEPT OF MARGINALITY Janet Mancini Billson
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THE MARGINAL MAN: EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT Thomas H. Jenkins
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PART III: YOUTH AND MARGINALITY EXCLUSION, CIVIC INVISIBILITY AND MARGINALITY: THE MURDERS OF STREET YOUTH IN BRAZIL Martha K. Huggins
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THE IMPACT OF RELIGIOSITY ON DEVIANCE AND CRIMINAL ACTIVITY IN YOUTH AND YOUNG ADULTS Kimya Nuru Dennis
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SOCIAL CAPITAL AND THE IMPACT OF VIOLENCE AMONG EARLY ADOLESCENT AFRICAN-AMERICAN MALES Joseph B. Richardson, Jr.
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PART IV: MARGINALITY AND THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF ETHNICITY AND GENDER IDENTITY ETHNIC BOUNDARIES AND INTERMEDIARIES IN THE RESETTLEMENT OF INDOCHINESE REFUGEES Jeremy Hein
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MARGINALIZING THE MAJORITY: MIGRATION AND THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF IDENTITY AMONG UIGHUR MUSLIM WOMEN IN CHINA Sadat Obol
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TRANSCENDING “THE MARGINAL MAN”: CHALLENGING THE PATRIARCHAL LEGACY OF ROBERT E. PARK Mary Jo Deegan
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PART V: CLASS AND MARGINALITY THE MARGINAL STATUS OF TEACHERS IN AN ELITE SCHOOL SYSTEM: SECONDARY EDUCATION IN NINETEENTH AND EARLY TWENTIETH-CENTURY FRANCE Frederique Van de Poel-Knottnerus and J. David Knottnerus
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WILLIAM J. WILSON’S “GHETTO-RELATED BEHAVIORS,” VALUES AND POVERTY: A TEST Martha A. Jacob
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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Mary Jo Deegan
Department of Sociology, University of Nebraska-Lincoln, USA
Kimya Nuru Dennis
Department of Sociology, North Carolina State University, USA
Rutledge M. Dennis
Department of Sociology and Anthropology, George Mason University, USA
Robert J. Dunne
Department of Sociology, Colorado College, CO, USA
Jeremy Hein
Department of Sociology and Anthropology, University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, Eau-Claire WI, USA
Martha K. Huggins
Department of Sociology, Tulane University, New Orleans, LA, USA
Martha Jacob
Domican University, River Forest, Illinois, USA
Thomas H. Jenkins
Department of Sociology, University of Cincinnati, Ohio, USA
J. David Knottnerus
Department of Sociology, Oklahoma State University, Stillwater, OK, USA
Janet Macini Billson
Department of Sociology, George Washington University, USA
Sadat Obol
Department of Sociology, Rutgers University, USA
Joseph B. Richardson, Jr
The University of Chicago, USA
Frederique Van de Poel-Knottnerus
Department of Foreign languages and Literatures, Oklahoma State University, Stillwater, OK, USA ix
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PART I
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THE AGE OF MARGINALITY Rutledge M. Dennis As we move into the 21th century, we might ponder the pithy and insightful epigram of Talleyrand who asserted that the more things change, the more they remained the same. Such an epigram may be appropriate as we chart the evolution of ideas, events, and behavior from the 20th century and as we are alerted to ideological and social structural tendencies of an evolving new century. We were told with much fanfare at the end of the previous century that a global community would await us, that many social structural forces which hitherto sanctioned and supported inequities and perpetrated brutality against the weak and disinherited would weaken or disappear. However, the dialectical nature of societal change demonstrates that we can have severa1 thematic developments operating simultaneously. That is, on several levels and in many areas, actions, behavior, and the institutional networks which reflect a global community may be emerging. But this emergence does not hide, nor could it, the fractured world within which the excluded and the disinherited live. In this fractured world many are unprotected or semi-protected: members of oppressed ethnic groups, females, the young, the old, the impoverished, the lower castes, and those belonging to outcaste or suppressed religious faiths, and those persecuted. There are paradoxical features of marginality, and viewed closely, these features may be called dual paradoxes in the same manner that I have used the term “dual marginality.” The paradoxes relate to the fact that though many refer to those marginalized as being “outside” of the social sphere, a good case can be made that the marginalized are both “outsiders as insiders” and “insiders as outsiders.” That is, no one or no group can evade or escape from the social sphere, in the
Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 3–8 Copyright © 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12001-1
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same way that Ellison’s Invisible Man is really not invisible, but rather is seen, but simply ignored. But being ignored does not mean that you will not play a variety of roles in a society. You are ignored because with power, position, and status do not view you as important to recognize, except within limited economic, political, or cultural boundaries. For this reason, we focus on those marginalized because there are social as well as personal consequences for both the marginalized and the non-marginalized within the larger society, as well as for the larger world. When one charts the events of the past 50 or so years: the wars, social movements, rebellions, and revolutions, what is clear is the precipitation of these events have their foundation in collective grievous (real or imagined). Nietzsche’s concept of resentiment is a useful concept to explain those social and psychological consequences of being the outsider-insider and the insider-outsider. In countries which attempt to adhere to democratic principles and have social movements and groups which attempt to hold the feet of national, state, and local government to the fire on issues related to those marginalized, the struggle continues because marginals continue to experience the social, economic, political, medical, and cultural consequences of their outsider-insider/insider-outsider status. In such countries safety-valves exist because there are processes and procedures to address, though often not to abolish, the inequities due to marginalization. The empirical studies of Kimya N. Dennis, Joseph Richardson, Jr., Martha Huggins and Myriam Mesquita illustrate various programs and practices designed to ameliorate the problems confronting marginalized youth in the United States and Brazil. Dennis’s article probes the relationship between religiosity and delinquency and concludes that delinquency is multidimensional and empirical findings linking it ts religiosity remains “largely inconsistent.” Her study looks at background issues of community disorder, neighborhood breakdown, and family and friendship network ties and measured religiosity by determining if the youth and young adults viewed religion as important and whether they attended religious services. Based on these two indicators she found that youth and young adults who attended religious services regularly and found religion to be important were more likely to view criminal activity as wrong and, therefore, less likely to commit acts of deviance. Utilizing the theoretical concept of social capital, social network analysis, ethnographic methods, and extensive case studies, Joseph Richardson, Jr. studies adolescent violence among young urban African-American males. Though the methodologies of Dennis and Richardson are different, they both analyzed youth through the prism of crime and deviance, social networks, and the social disorder and neighborhood breakdowns. Richardson’s research, drawing on a fouryear longitudinal ethnographic research study, looks at the social capital, strategies used by these youth and their families, to prevent the youth from involvement in serious violent behavior over the youth’s life-course. The Huggins/Mesquita article
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explores the brutality surrounding the killing of marginal male street youth (the jobless, parentless, those black and dark-brown, and the uneducated) in Brazil and how, though the killings are illegal and represent deviant behavior, Brazilian society sees the killings as necessary in preserving a strange sense of societal order. The article highlights the case of “double consciousness” within the society, and is almost a classic case of “blaming the victim.” As a post-script to the article, the national press and media in the United States have recently focused on the youth street killings and this has forced a section of Brazilian society to move to punish those engaged in these killings. The concept of marginality is closely linked to identity, for the simple reason that we tend to live our lives in and through “identity shelves”: males-females; dominant-nondominant. At some point, we are each “the other,” the current literature indicates that though we all have identity shelves, not all the shelves are tightly attached, thus, there is room for identity construction in many areas. Jeremy Hein’s ethnographic and life-history study looks at the resettlement system for Indochinese refugees and the process by which ethnic boundaries are created, intermediary roles are created, and eventually, how marginal individuals are recruited for these intermediary roles. The marginality of the caseworkersintermediaries is highlighted in as much as they must act as the group in the middle, between the refugee community and the dominant (white) social service providers. In other words, these intermediaries are the boundary maintenanee keepers, and what is unique here is that these marginal intermediaries are those already societal marginals, so in a sense they may be yet another example of this editor, Rutledge M. Dennis’ use of the term “dual marginality.” The paper by Sadat Obol plays on Dennis’ dual marginality theme but goes one better by proposing a “triple marginality” for Uighur Muslim women in Xinjiang Province whose status altered due to the in-migration of large numbers of Chinese into the province. Prior to the Chinese in-migration these women experienced gender inequalities because of the Uighur culture as well as Isiamic law. Using her life story and family history as case studies Obol then relates that post-migration Uighur women now had to confront race and ethnic marginality since they were not Chinese, and, in addition, faced religious marginality because the Chinese sought to downplay or abolish religious practices and institutions. Like in so many cases paradoxes abound, and in this case, one of the consequences of the domination of the Chinese in Uigu life was the diminishing role of male dominance as the only source of marginality for Uighur women. Retaining her paradoxical position, Obol labels the process of marginality as rather complex and problematic in that “It is largely oppressive, but ironically it can simultaneously be partially liberating.” Mary Jo Deegan explores the gender theme which highlights Obol’s paper, and begins by reconstituting Park’s concept of “the marginal man.” She then challenges Park’s patriarchal assumptions as they
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are linked to both sociology and the larger society. Rejecting Park’s marginal man as a “. . . powerful, able-bodied, heterosexual, white male . . .” calls for an examination of “the marginal woman” in which the structural forces shaping women such as race, age, physical abilities, ethnicity, religion, class, and sexual preferences would be emphasized. The articles by Martha Jacob and Frederique Van de Poel-Knottnerus and J. David Knottnerus present different views on class, the latter, the marginal status of teachers in an elite school system, and the former, a test of Wilson’s thesis on inner-city residents and whether or not they adhered to basic American values. The elite school system study is significant in that it almost replicates the marginal status of female teachers in American society up to the late 1950s and early 1960s. Using the historical case study and employing a methodological procedure known as “literary ethnography,” the authors explore and define the position of these elite school teachers as marginal because they occupied a position between their class of origin, the lower working class, and the classes with which they were educated and which they later taught, the bourgeois classes. The authors conclude their study by hypothesizing that replicating the study in noneducational settings might proffer similar examples of rnarginality if the variables were comparble, Martha Jacob’s reassesses William J. Wilson’s critique of the marginal urban poor, and rethinks the conlusions from his 1987 study. She asserts that Wilson’s position is somewhat, though not fully consistent, with Oscar Lewis’ “culture of poverty” thesis, and she posits the view which she attibutes to Wilson, in which inner-city behavior is the cause of the never-ending poverty in America. Jacob asks the question: Were those in Wilson’s study who professed beliefs in “American” values (hard work, taking the initiative, and having a strong sense of morality), not the same respondents who displayed “ghetto-related” behavior? Using Wilson’s data from his “Urban Poverty and Family Life Survey of Chicago 1987” survey, Jacob concludes that looking only at one dimension of Wilson’s study, and using OLS regression models, she asserts that the vast majority of Wilson’s respondents who expressed belief in “American” values had never engaged in “deviant” or criminal behavior and notes that values are important indicators of whether the individual engages in deviant behavior or Wilson’s “ghetto related behavior.” I don’t think Wilson would refute that point, but much larger issues which Jacob raises, but admits to not having the time to address, are the possible connections between poverty, deviance, and individual behavior. Each of the theoretical papers had unique features which I believed might be of interest to readers. Robert Dunne’s paper begins with the early conceptualization of marginality, moves through re-definitions and re-conceptualizations of the term, then provides the reader with contemporary empirical case studies of the individuals, groups, and nations which might be labeled marginal. He
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frames his arguments around issues of the working class, modernization, global underdevelopment, surplus populations, social domination, and social control. He also positions marginality as a dialectica1 schema shifting between centrality and marginality, and asserts that pure forms of marginality are difficult to find because marginality is not absolute and there is a flux and flow as another dialectic is at work, that of social integration and social distance. Lastly, Dunne leaves us with an empirical assignment: that of validating through research, degrees of marginality. Janet Mancini Billson’s article assesses the historical origin of marginality and then re-defines the concept’s parameter. She then proposes that we analyze several dimensions of marginality: Essential versus Processual Marginality; Changeability of the Situation; Salience; Visibility; Cultural conflict; Group conflict; Attitude of Feeder-Group; Permeability of Recipient-Group; Direction of Identification, and Voluntary Nature of Position. These dimensions will assist us, she notes, in exploring even more dimensions of the concept, plus answer questions germane to the term itself, such questions as whether different types of marginality are related to differences in degrees of closures against internal groups, whether types of marginality are related to the distribution of scarce resources; Who determines the existence of marginality, and what happens in cases of multiple marginalities. It is interesting and instructive that these very questions are at the heart of Obol’s study. Lastly, Thomas Jenkins’ paper takes us back to a reexamination of Park and Stonquist, but he does so by rooting the concept of marginality and its linkage to European trade and commerce, Western slavery, colonialism, imperialism and immigration. Jenkins concludes his paper with an analysis and critique of the manner in which Park and the concept of shaped American sociology. He argues that the concept of marginality, though worn, is still appropriate in as much as it illustrates and relates to contemporary social phenomena and psychological consequences just as it did in earlier times. The papers in this volume represent a wide range of perspectives on marginality, but whether mainly theoretical or empirical, they illustrate common themes, issues, and problems germane to assessing, defining, conceptualizing, and studying individuals and groups, and for Dunne, nations which are marginal to other individuals, groups, and nations. Either directly or indirectly, all of the articles highlight the fact that when we discuss marginality we are probing the degree to which power is held and/or exercised by one individual, group, or nation to the detriment of other individuals, groups, or nations. The consequences of this powerpowerless or dominance-nondominance dialectic is situational and contextual, but we can note, using history as a guide, that the marginalization of one group is often not accidental, but results from a carefully crafted desire to exploit, use, or abuse power and dominance to secure or maintain an historical position, or to marginalize another in order to acquire such a position or place. A crucial
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question central to each of the papers in this volume is the question and the problem of de-marginalization. It appears that a large percentage of individuals and groups advocating and leading wars, rebellions, social movement, and revolutions, mentioned earlier, were designed to do just that The process of de-marginalization has been, of necessity, a strategy to alter the status quo, and to make the last, the first. One of the first steps those of us in the academy can make in the alteration of the status quo is to insure a degree of theoretical clarity in our use of terms such as marginality. Secondly, methodological clarity is just as important as theoretical clarity, and is a necessary second step. Lastly, I am a firm believer in methodological pluralism and sought this in selecting the articles for this volume.
PART II: DEFINING MARGINALITY: HISTORICAL AND CONTEMPORARY PERSPECTIVES
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MARGINALITY: A CONCEPTUAL EXTENSION Robert J. Dunne The term “marginality” conjures up images that promise rich analytic depth. Unfortunately, concepts such as marginality are often “fuzzy” and lack the specificity that would allow them to serve as analytic tools capable of much fruitfulness. The terms “marginal,” “marginality,” “marginalize” and similar derivatives are currently found in sociological literature with some frequency, but they are usually used as descriptive labels and are often redundant terms for other concepts. The question is, does the concept-marginality have any analytic use? In this essay I will argue: (1) that the concept has never been conceptualized in such a way that it could have much analytic value; and (2) but that it can be conceptualized in a way that will prove to be analytically fruitful.
EARLY CONCEPTUALIZATIONS OF MARGINALITY The concept of marginality was introduced in 1928, in an essay by Robert Park titled “Human Migration and The Marginal Man.” The essay was primarily concerned with migration rather than marginality. This is understandable when one considers that migration to the U.S. was a major phenomenon at that time. Park made only a few comments about marginality in his essay, using the term to refer to the crosspressures generated by overlapping involvements in two cultures simultaneously that migrants were assumed to experience.
Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 11–27 © 2005 Published by Elsevier Ltd. ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12002-3
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Following the publication of Park’s essay a number of scholars also used the concept “marginal.” Yet, as in Park’s original essay, there was a tendency to focus on other topics while only incidentally labeling something as marginal. Thus, Smith’s (1934) essay on racially mixed populations in Hawaii bore the term “Marginal Man” in the title, but failed to develop the concept. This was also true of Cressey’s (1935) essay on mixed race people that were the product of unions between British sailors and Indian women. Slotkin’s (1943) essay also contained the words “Marginal Man” in its title but did not develop the concept and, indeed, only used the term once in the body of the essay. In 1937 Stonequist published a book titled The Marginal Man that carried an introduction by Park. Stonequist’s interest was colonialism and the adjustment native people made to European domination. Following a suggestion in Park’s original essay, Stonequist turned his attention to the mental state of native populations. He concluded that two factors were crucial: first, the extent to which the native sought to assimilate into European culture; and second, the extent to which the native’s efforts to achieve assimilation were rebuffed. Stonequist concluded that if the desire for assimilation was great and the rejection fairly complete, the native was likely to experience bitterness and confusion that could result in forms of mental illness, criminal actions, or other expressions of personal dysfunction. This became known as the Park-Stonequist framework-marginality produces personal disorder. In 1955 Kerckhoff and McCormick, working within this framework, reported that Chippewa Indian youth who identified with whites, yet were not accepted by whites, had higher numbers of personality abnormalities as measured by a personality inventory. Other works, however, have been more problematic; either criticizing the ParkStonequist framework, or suggesting reconceptualizations. In 1941, Goldberg published an essay titled “A Qualification of The Marginal Man Theory.” Though his findings were actually consistent with the theory, he did insist on one variationmembers of a nondominant culture, living in an area dominated by another culture, could be normal provided they successfully pursued the goals of their own culture. In 1956 Antonovsky published an essay in response to Goldberg in which a “refinement” of the marginal man concept was promised. Actually, Antonovsky reported a study in which he found several different ways in which a member of a nondominant group could adjust to the domination of another group. He concluded that marginal status did not have to produce anything like the disordered personalities hypothesized by Park and Stonequist. Even earlier, in 1947, Green questioned the scientific value of the marginal man concept. He concluded that it was based on circular reasoning, i.e. those who are disturbed are labeled marginal, and suggested that the clarity (as opposed to ambiguity) of one’s position in relation to dominant and nondominant positions is probably the most important
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consideration. In 1952 two works were published. Golovensky evaluated the ParkStonequist formulation empirically and concluded that so-called marginal people were no more likely to exhibit signs of personal disorder than nonmarginal people. He stated that “The marginal man concept, in its broadest sense, is a sociological fiction based on a stereotype . . . a caricature . . . an exaggeration and distortion of a fact” (p. 335). Golovensky concluded that the marginal man concept could only have application in very specific and restricted circumstances. Wardwell, on the other hand, did see a positive use for the concept but in a greatly altered sense. His study of chiropractors put the focus on the extent of integration of social roles. He stated, “The Chiropractor is not marginal in two distinct cultures, as the term ‘marginal man’ ordinarily would imply. He is simply an incumbent of a role that is marginal” (p. 348). By that he meant that expectations were unclear and, consequently, sanctions inconsistently applied. Finally, Dickie-Clark’s (1966) study of the coloureds of Durbane also expressed dissatisfaction with the concept as presented by Park and Stonequist. Dicky-Clark objected to the heavy emphasis on personality, which he called naive, and instead proposed to emphasize situations in which hierarchical rankings are inconsistent with each other. He states: The comprehensive definition put forward in this study was derived from the literature on marginality and rests on the contention that the marginal situation is a special case of hierarchical situations. What makes an hierarchical situation marginal in character, is any inconsistency in the ranking of individual or collectivity . . . such inconsistency is the essence of the marginal situation, or what might be called sociological marginality (p. 185).
Thus, the Durbane coloureds rank above blacks but whites look down on them, they are in a marginal situation as Dickie-Clark conceptualizes it. But being in a marginal situation was not found to produce disordered personalities, as Park and Stonequist hypothesized. The conceptualization of marginality that has grown out of the Parkian tradition is certainly problematic. One must question what the concept helps us to understand. Several scholars have used the concept only as a label in discussions that really seem concerned with other topics. Other scholars have criticized its scientific adequacy, and others still have produced inconsistent empirical evidence concerning the consequences of marginality. Even DickieClark’s conceptualization of the marginal situation is problematic because even though his research disfirmed the Park-Stonequist hypothesis, he has not presented a clear enough conceptualization so that we may grasp just what it is that his formulation is to help us understand. However, though the Parkian heritage is problematic, it does suggest something interesting. In his original essay Park’s comments about marginality, cursory as they were, conveyed a sense of a person or group that had been cut off or isolated
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from the mainstream of social life. Then the ambivalent and somewhat inconsistent nature of the concept became apparent. Stonequist, Kerckhoff and McCormick, Wardwell, and Dickie-Clark all emphasized the importance of a person or group failing to be fully integrated into dominant societal structures. But it is interesting to note that Goldberg, Antonovsky, and Golovensky reacted to this notion by emphasizing the ability for individuals to achieve satisfactory integration into nondominant groups. I believe both insights are accurate, though undeveloped.
A DIFFERENT DIRECTION A more contemporary scholar, Edward Shils, has also dealt with some of these concerns in his book Center and Periphery (1975). Though not writing in the Parkian tradition, Shils concept of periphery nonetheless captures the sense of marginality. To Shils, every society that is not in a state of collapse has a center – a social loci of power. Distant from the center is the periphery. Shils also recognizes that local centers exist at some distance from the societal center and that individuals are, to some extent, oriented toward them. Shils concept of distance,1 i.e. the distance that separates peripheries from societal centers, is conceptualized in two ways: first in terms of stratification (differences in wealth and power), and second in terms of the societal center setting cultural standards to which more distant individuals and groups attempt to conform. Shils formulation is not without its problems. In places his discussion is sketchy, and his depiction of society is somewhat formal and static. His conceptualization fails to capture the dynamic and messy character of real societies. Two qualifications are especially important. First, Shils’ concept of social distance requires fuller development. Park and some of those writing in response to him suggested the importance of a person or group’s integration into a dominant culture. I propose that social distance be understood in terms of resource flows. The term “resource,” as I will use it, refers to several categories of necessary, useful, valued or enjoyable things. Goods and services are the most obvious examples but I also include such things as social support, and such ideational entities as accurate information (Barley et al., 1992; Burt, 1992; Cook, 1982; Pawlik, 1992; Powell, 1991; Wellman et al., 1988; White, 1992). Thus, the greater the flow of resources to and from centers and individuals or groups, the more adequately they are integrated. Social distance would be minimal and they would not be marginal. On the other hand, minimal resource flows would indicate poor integration, great social distance and marginality. Since resources flow more or less well, social distance will be more or less great. Thus, marginality is a matter of degrees not an absolute.
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Second, Shils’ cursory acknowledgment of multiple local centers requires development. Though Shil’s claim that any functioning society has something resembling a single societal center is certainly correct (Domhoff, 1978; Johnsen & Mintz, 1989; Knoke & Laumann, 1982; Marger, 1987; Mills, 1956; Mintz & Schwartz, 1985; Mizruchi, 1982; Rhodes, 1991; Tepperman, 1988; Useem, 1984), he does not deal extensively with the multiplicity and complexity of nonsocietal centers. It is my contention that we must take account of the extremely large number of nonsocietal centers that every complex society contains (Fischer, 1982; Ibarra, 1992; Stokowski, 1994; Wedel, 1992; Wellman et al., 1988; Wheeldon, 1969). It is also important to recognize that these local centers are located at varying distances from the societal center, i.e. some of them will be marginal (Arnold, 1970; Becker, 1963; Brake, 1985; Hebdige, 1979; Mars, 1984; Yinger, 1972). Furthermore, in reaction against the Park-Stonequist formulation Goldberg, Antonovsky, and Golovensky emphasized that individuals who were not integrated into the dominant culture could still develop satisfactory adjustment, often through integration into nondominant groups. The extension of these ideas which I propose implies a critique of Shils’ conceptualization. Individuals and groups do not always seek to conform to the cultural standards of the societal center. In fact, though marginality is often the result of exclusion by the societal center – or, stated in the terms I proposed above, due to restrictions of resource flows imposed by dominant persons or groups – this is not always the case. Individuals and groups will often be found to prefer being oriented toward local centers, sometimes even marginal local centers, rather than the societal center, i.e. they may create flow restrictions in order to establish some autonomy from the societal center. Marginality may sometimes, or to some degree, be voluntary. And a final observation. Marginality is distance from a center. This proposition, coupled with what has been said above, leads to the following conclusion. Just as one may be distant from the societal center, i.e. the flow of resources to and from the societal center is restricted, this is also true for any local center toward which one may be oriented. Marginality is a multidimensional phenomenon in that a given person may be simultaneously integrated with one or more centers while being marginal from one or more other centers.
CONSIDERING SOME CASES At this point, I believe it would be helpful to consider a few cases to illustrate the analytic use of the conceptualization being offered. In dealing with any particular candidate for “marginal position,” two considerations will be foremost: First, consideration of the individual or group in terms of their dual position, i.e. distance
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from both societal and local centers. Second, consideration of resource flows, and obstruction of flows that either integrate positions with centers or constitute the distance that separates them. Let us consider five cases: low-level employees, surplus populations, criminals, the stigmatized, and communities in the hinterlands of underdeveloped nations.2
Low-Level Employees Were I writing at an earlier time, I might have used the sub-heading “The Workingclass,” and in one sense that is exactly the category I wish to comment about. However, the term working-class is so frequently equated with blue-collar factory laborers that questions might be raised concerning the inclusion or exclusion of white-collar workers, and increasingly today pink-collar workers. I believe, therefore, that the term low-level employees best serves my intentions. They work at the bottom of the chain of command in manufacturing, services, and sales (Gans, 1988; Gilbert & Kahl, 1993). Management recognizes its need for them but regards their skills as commonly possessed or easily established by “on job training” and, therefore, regards them as easily replaceable. Pay and working conditions, consequently, are not good but there is some meaningful variation depending on applicable legislation, union representation, seniority, and other factors (Bluestone, 1974; Doeringer & Piore, 1971; Piore, 1977; Thurow & Lucas, 1972; Wachtel & Betsey, 1972). In considering this category of people, the major flows are easily identifiable. Labor, a resource or resources resulting from labor, flow from these workers toward centers called businesses where the workers are employed. These businesses participate in economic relations which further circulate the flow of resources more widely through the societal economic system. Another major flow involves taxes and the information upon which taxes are assessed. These flows can be societal, or sub-societal (to governmental centers at national, state and in some cases, local levels). Influence is another concern. It involves the success workers have communicating information by which their concerns may receive consideration by employers and government officials. Generally speaking, workers do not have much influence, and it is not surprising that workers realize this and do not, therefore, make many influence attempts. On the other hand, resources also flow to them. We may call this “trickle down.” In the case of low-level employees it is usually adequate to allow workers to afford a life-style that is above the subsistence level. This helps explain the lack of political unrest among these people, but here we must also consider ideational
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flows emanating from the societal center that play important social control functions. In terms of information denied, information manipulated, and information manufactured the societal center provides a steady stream of media that seems particularly effective in confusing issues so that lower-level employees find it difficult to participate in the political process in ways that would allow them to advocate their own interests effectively (Entman, 1989; Gans, 1988; Parenti, 1993; Sheehan, 1970). Here we see content being communicated, but because it is often not accurate information, it must be recognized as having a dual status: it represents both an information flow and an obstruction or distortion of the flow of information. One of the most important parts of the explanation for the relatively passive adjustment workers make involves their integration with local centers which offer them a series of resource flows that focus on personal satisfactions such as leisure time activities (Gans, 1988; Stokowski, 1994; Wellman et al., 1988). Family and coworker networks, church organizations, recreational organizations, and informal associations all offer meaningful and rewarding involvements. It is important to note that such involvements and their activities must, necessarily, be consistent with (or deviate minimally from) the standards of the societal center. If it were otherwise, affiliation would be stressful rather than recreational. An overall conclusion finds workers to be only intermediate in marginality. The societal center and many local economic centers need them. However, their expendability does not gain them more than barely adequate trickle down. Information flows also are of a mixed nature. Such flows allow little influence for these people and media flows provide evidence of social control attempts. Locally, however, workers and their families are usually well-integrated into networks that offer personal gratification and much of the most important part of the social control dynamic is located at this point. Particularly in the latter sense, they are rarely marginal.
Surplus Populations Historically the surplus population has been identified as a category of people, of significant number, that is not matched by functioning statuses in the existing social order. That is, at points of time in the history of given societies, something happens that creates a crisis (usually economic or demographic) of such magnitude that a significant percentage of the society’s population can no longer find places to fit into societal resource flows (Cipolla, 1965; Meuvret, 1965; Mizruchi, 1983; Spengler, 1968). It is as though mass job elimination suddenly took place and many people were set adrift. Our concern is with the marginality of such people.
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The definition of this category of people is largely in terms of disruption of resource flows. But this is not usually a case of exploitation.3 Usually the societal center is not acquiring resources from these people. In the case of surplus populations the disruption is more complete than that. Surplus populations simply are only tenuously involved in the societal flow of resources. It would be easy, if this were the only consideration, to conclude that such people constitute the most marginal of all social categories. The facts, however, are more complex than that. First, surplus populations do not generally exist in their status as surplus for very long – survival considerations do not allow it. Consequently, in their usually short existence, they remain marked by their former social and cultural characteristics as people who were integrated into community life. Their orientation, consequently, is to become reintegrated. That is, a willingness to become reinvolved in societal and local resource flows characterizes these people. At local levels important flow patterns generally persist for some time. Survival is predicated on much of this, as local charity bears witness. In most cases the displaced are reabsorbed into their old statuses when the crisis has past. Another pattern uncovered by several scholars involves the concern leaders at societal centers feel when they learn of the problem. One result is the mobilization of resources to establish or extend institutions that can provide places for the surplus population (Howard, 1943; Mizruchi, 1983). Here information flows provide de facto influence that can result in changes in the flow of resources. Social control is also a consideration. Those at the societal center are usually concerned that the existing order be maintained, especially to the extent that it bears on their interests. Their concern with the flow of information reaching them about the state of the hinterland is at least partly understandable in these terms. The surplus population becomes a social control problem for them if this surplus population begins to disrupt the social order. As indicated above, some leaders at the societal center respond by trying to reintegrate such people. But when this is not possible, some of the surplus population may become disruptive in response to the unresolved crises that they encounter (Cohn, 1970; Hobsbawm, 1959; Meadows, 1944; Rotz, 1976). At this point, even wise societal leaders will decide to take social control measures that go beyond the ordinary (MacMullen, 1966; Mangione, 1972; Piven & Cloward, 1972). However, the record also presents us with many cases of adaptive-integrative responses such as emigration to places of new opportunities and changing economic structures that provide new statuses to reabsorb the surplus population. In these cases, the populations rendered surplus maintained their orientations toward integration into larger societal networks and did manage to find new statuses for themselves (Chambers, 1965; Cipolla, 1965; Koellmann, 1965; Meuvret, 1965; Moore, 1978; Slicher Van Bath, 1968).
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As a concluding statement, we recognize then, that surplus populations are one of the most extreme cases of marginality. Yet even here we find evidence of integrative forces at work. Some resources circulate to these people, particularly at the local level. The population in question usually remains oriented toward reintegration. Such populations do, of course, constitute a potential threat to the social order and those who are not reintegrated relatively soon may become recruited into other marginal adaptations.
Criminals There are, of course, a plethora of issues in the study of criminology. To avoid some of the most subtle, I will confine my considerations to groups and individuals that have developed a commitment to gaining their sustenance, and additional material wealth, by violating laws they know law enforcement agencies prosecute. The activities that mark the criminal, then, involve resource flows, i.e. criminals take things illegally. Criminals may also attempt to avoid giving resources back; that is, they may avoid labor that would contribute to society, or they may avoid paying taxes. More likely, they do some work at least as a cover and pay some taxes while supplementing their income by their criminal activities (Abadinski, 1985; Ermann & Lundman, 1987; Mars, 1984; Steffensmeier, 1986). In any case, they attempt to develop an adjustment to social life in which some of the relationships between center and periphery are reversed. Or stated more correctly, criminals attempt to be center-like in that they seek to benefit from the resources produced by others that the criminals can make flow to themselves. Flows of information are also crucial. Criminals must learn a great deal in order to know where vulnerable resources are available, and what techniques will allow resources to be acquired (Prus & Irini, 1980; Spradley & McCurdy, 1972; Steinitz & Solomon, 1986; Valentine, 1978). At the same time they attempt to control information to the extent that social control officials either cannot learn of their actions or cannot make an adequate case against them to allow for successful prosecution. In the case of information acquisition, being embedded in a criminal network is often useful but it is also dangerous because such an information flow may be tapped by social control officials who also seek information (Marx, 1988). The local, or in large criminal networks even extra-local, network may also provide useful resources, i.e. goods and services such as capital to acquire needed equipment or money for bribes, the services of lawyers, bail bondsmen, or even manpower (other criminals with special skills). Whether or not a given criminal will have access to this veritable cornucopia of criminal resources depends on their
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own position in the local criminal network. Are they part of the local center? Do they have good access to the center, and thus fairly open availability? Or, are they marginal with little inside information, little access to insiders, and no influence to speak of? The final consideration is the permeability of the line that supposedly separates criminals from noncriminals. First, let’s consider resource acquisition. Criminals need noncriminals as victims, i.e. as stores of resources from which they can supply themselves. Once resources are converted into legal tender, criminals also need noncriminal retailers so that these criminals can acquire the goods that will allow them to live the lifestyles to which they aspire. Both these cases constitute forms of integration into society. In some cases a reversal of this relationship also occurs. Some criminals provide noncriminals with goods and services that are illegal (Abadinski, 1985; Carmen & Moody, 1985; Chambliss, 1978; Ermann & Lundman, 1987; Miller, 1986; Perkins & Bennett, 1985; Steffensmeier, 1986; Wise, 1973). In other cases, criminals work out deals with social control officials to allow criminal activities to be carried on unmolested, or even protected, by the very societal force that pretends to be trying to stop them (Chambliss, 1978). In all these cases we see that the line that is often thought of as separating criminals and noncriminals is actually permeated by resource flows. In conclusion, a study of resource flows reveal that criminals are found to be considerably less marginal than one might think. They actually are integrated, in a parasitic manner, into the noncriminal society and dependent upon it. They are also integrated into their own local centers, benefiting from local resource flows, and at least some of the most important distinctions we can make about types of criminals depend on their position within such networks.
The Stigmatized Stigma is not easy to define (Goffman, 1963). It depends a lot on certain characteristics of the definers and the defined. My concern is with the person who carries a stigma and how others respond to that person. The primary distinction, here, is whether the individual can hide the stigma, and thus remain integrated into society, or is known as stigmatized and is therefore forced to try and meet many of their needs by relying heavily on a network of similarly stigmatized others. Since resource flows to the stigmatized are often restricted, it is easy to understand why the stigmatized would attempt to hide a stigma and remain integrated into larger social networks. It is also clear why stigmatized people attempt to break down barriers of prejudice and gain acceptance in society. But understanding resource flows can also explain why some stigmatized individuals remain, however covertly,
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associated with stigmatized networks – because only there can they acquire certain types of gratification. The homosexual community is a case in point. In order to acquire sustenance the stigmatized must be integrated into society but this integration is usually unequal and often exploitative and oppressive. Recognized stigma obstructs the flow of resources from larger social centers to the stigmatized but resource flows from the stigmatized is rarely as restricted. Stigmatized groups and individuals usually come to be relied upon, by the nonstigmatized, to provide goods or perform services that the nonstigmatized regard as beneath them. In this unequal way, an interdependence does come to exist (Bloom, 1987; Takski, 1993). The above comments have already implied the importance of information flows. Secrecy and deception play key roles in hiding those stigma that can be hidden (Goffman, 1959, 1963, 1969). Information flows are also crucial in the ability of some stigmatized individuals to find those covert networks they seek out, e.g. homosexuals (Harry & DeValle, 1978). An interesting aspect of the dynamic stigmatized individuals experience is that local networks of the nonstigmatized are often more punitive toward the stigmatized than the societal center and its associated networks. A typical effort to break down barriers of prejudice involves information flows from the stigmatized to the societal center, and often to a wider societal audience that transcends local communities, in an effort to plead their case (Bloom, 1987; Carson, 1987; Lyle, 1968). Of course, obstacles to these flows exist. Ryan (1976) has found that beliefs about the stigmatized are important obstructing factors. The point here, however, is that when successful communicative efforts can give stigmatized people some de facto influence, resource flows may be redirected to assist them. Finally, we need to consider the local centers of the stigmatized themselves. For those stigmatized who are capable of hiding their stigma, such networks may be minimal or nonexistent. For example, those formerly convicted of felonies but who have become successfully integrated into the life of their communities may not even know each other or be oriented toward any sort of “X-con” local center. However, for the overtly stigmatized, such as racial minorities, the resource flows generated by their own local centers may be crucial to survival and lifesatisfaction. In conclusion, stigmatized individuals and groups vary tremendously. Some whose stigma cannot be easily hidden can be quite marginal, especially in their local communities. But even in such cases, minimal and unequal resource flows are found that bind the stigmatized and the nonstigmatized together. Then, in terms of intra-group relations, the stigmatized may be well-integrated into their own local centers that channel important resources to them. In this sense they are
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not marginal. Those who are able to hide their stigma are in a different position. Integration into the nonstigmatized world is much more complete. Resources flow to and from such people more normally. Consequently, they are less likely to be marginal.
Communities in the Hinterlands of Underdeveloped Nations The social transformations taking place in economically less developed nations are of great significance (Balassa, 1980; Gulger & Flanagan, 1978; Harris, 1986; Kemper & Foster, 1975; Mayer & Mayer, 1974; Roberts, 1978). One of the aspects of this process is the developing societal integration and accompanying problems that are being encountered (Cheema & Rondinelli, 1983a, b; Migdal, 1988; Stohr & Taylor, 1981). Though indigenous communities that were largely untouched by Western influences existed during the colonial period, few continue to exist today (Goodland & Irwin, 1975). During the last half century, even the most remote communities have been effected by modernization and they are developing ties with a larger world beyond their local regions. However, the strains that accompany change have produced resistance and dissension in some cases but these conflicts are primarily concerned with how material wealth will be distributed rather than attempts by native peoples to isolate themselves from the outside (Eckstein, 1989; Gulger & Flanagan, 1978; Hutton & Cohen, 1975; Mayer & Mayer, 1974; Pearse, 1970; Walton & Ragin, 1989; Whitehead, 1973). The relationships that exist between societal centers in developing nations and local communities in the hinterlands vary a good deal. Some developing nations channel considerable resources to their hinterlands to extend infrastructure, and gather information in an effort to bring the outlying people into the larger social network. Sometimes such efforts seem to fit a pattern of exploitation and control, while in other cases the intent seems to be to offer opportunities to participate in economic development. Poorer nations are often unable to expend many resources in such efforts. In such cases, local indigenous peoples, especially those located in difficult terrain, are less effected by modernization and less wellconnected to national centers beyond their own local area (Goodland & Irwin, 1975; Pearse, 1970). Such cases may come as close to marginality as any we will find. Yet, even in the case of the more isolated local communities, internal flows of resources indicate that groups and individuals are rarely marginal from local centers. Rather, most participate in a rich cultural life. Even in the case of local communities that have been penetrated by the nation builders, the typical pattern is the continuation of attachment to local centers (Gilbert & Gugler, 1992).
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This pattern has been found to hold even in the case of those who leave the local community and migrate to cities (Gulger, 1991; Gulger & Flanagan, 1978; Kemper & Foster, 1975; Mayer & Mayer, 1974; Roberts, 1978; Vatuk, 1972; Velsen, 1960). In conclusion, even in underdeveloped nations, what we find is not so much marginality but a growing societal integration complemented by integration on a more local scale. Resource flows are generally more localized compared to developed nations; that is much of what is meant by the term “underdeveloped.” Consequently, though we may conclude that economically less developed nations contain communities that are somewhat marginal from the societal center, evidence suggests that marginality from local centers is not prevalent.
CONCLUSIONS An analysis of resource flows has revealed important aspects of social integration and social distance. We can meaningfully speak of centrality and marginality. However, pure forms of marginality are hard to find. In the cases considered here, purposely chosen because they are thought of as marginal, we still find resource flows, though sometimes with significant restrictions. Even when social distance from the societal center is great, i.e. when the flow of resources to and from the societal center or its allied centers is restricted, integration with local centers is often evident. Marginality is not an absolute. We must think of it in terms of degrees. Though we are justified in using the term to refer to those individuals or groups that are most distant from centers, we must be careful how we use this concept. Even though an individual or group may be marginal from a given center (perhaps the societal center) they may be integrated into one or more local centers, perhaps even a local center that is marginal in relation to the societal center.
NOTES 1. In 1959 Emory Bogardus published a “social distance” scale. However, he failed to adequately ground it conceptually. Consequently, it is unclear just what it measures. Also see Bardis (1956, 1961, 1962), and Pettigrew (1959). Social network analysis also uses the concept “distance,” but in a manner that largely lacks conceptual substance (Berkowitz, 1988; Erickson, 1988; Scott, 1991). 2. I have decided not to consider revolutionaries and secessionists because those cases are very complex and I simply could not do justice to them in the brief space allowed here. 3. For a case that did include exploitation see Chambers (1965).
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Slotkin, J. S. (1943). The status of the marginal man. Socioloy and Social Research, 28, 47–54. Smith, W. (1934). The hybrid in Hawaii as a marginal man. The American Journal of Sociology, 39, 459–468. Spengler, J. J. (1968). Demographic factors and early modern economic development. Daedalus (Spring), 433–446. Spradley, J., & McCurdy, D. (1972). The cultural experience. Chicago: Science Research Associates. Steffensmeier, D. (1986). The fence. Totowa, NJ: Rowman & Littlefield. Steinitz, V., & Solomon, E. (1986). Starting out. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Stohr, W. B., & Taylor, D. R. F. (Eds) (1981). Development from above or below? New York: Wiley. Stokowski, P. A. (1994). Leisure in society. New York: Mansell. Stonequist, E. V. (1937). The marginal man. New York: Russell & Russell. Takski, R. (1993). A different mirror. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. Tepperman, L. (1988). Collective mobility and the persistence of dynasties. In: B. Wellman & S. D. Berkowitz (Eds), Social Structure: A Network Approach (pp. 405–429). New York: Cambridge University Press. Thurow, L., & Lucas, R. (1972). The American distribution of income. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office. Useem, M. (1984). The inner circle. New York: Oxford. Valentine, B. (1978). Hustling and other hard work. New York: Free Press. Vatuk, S. (1972). Kinship and urbanization. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Van Velsen, J. (1960). Labor migration as a positive factor in the continuity of Tonga tribal society. Economic Development and Cultural Change (April), 265–278. Wachtel, H., & Betsey, C. (1972). Employment at low wages. Review of Economics and Statistics, 44, 121–129. Walton, J., & Ragin, C. (1989). Austerity and dissent: Social bases of popular struggle in Latin America. In: W. L. Canak (Ed.), Lost Promises (pp. 216–232). Boulder, CO: West View Press. Wedel, J. R. (1992). Introduction. In: J. R. Wedel (Ed.), The Unplanned Society (pp. 1–20). New York: Columbia University Press. Wellman, B., Carrington, P. J., & Hall, A. (1988). Networks as personal communities. In: B. Wellman & S. D. Berkowitz (Eds), Social Structures: A Network Approach (pp. 130–184). New York: Cambridge University Press. Wheeldon, P. D. (1969). The operation of voluntary associations and personal networks in the political processes of an inter-ethnic community.” In: J. Clyde Mitchell (Ed.), Social Networks in Urban Situations (pp. 128–180), New York: Humanities Press. White, H. C. (1992). Identity and control. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Whitehead, L. (1973). National power and local power: The case of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia. In: F. F. Rabinovich & F. Trueblood (Eds), National-Local Linkages (pp. 23–46). Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Wise, D. (1973). The politics of lying. New York: Vintage. Yinger, M. (1972). Countercultures. New York: Free Press.
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NO OWNER OF SOIL: REDEFINING THE CONCEPT OF MARGINALITY夽 Janet Mancini Billson INTRODUCTION The concept of marginality has endured a checkered history since it was first coined in 1928 by Robert Park in his seminal essay, “Human migration and the marginal man.”1 Elaborated on by Everett Stonequist (1937), adopted as given by countless sociologists, and attacked for its lack of scientific rigor by others, the concept has been stretched into an elasticity approaching the proverbial Procrustean bed (cf. Goldberg, 1941; Golovensky, 1952). Although marginality has historically played an important role in sociological thinking, the term’s lack of precision has led to confusion and disparate usage in recent years. In this chapter I will clarify the concept of marginality, to delineate the multiple meanings it has come to hold, and to redefine its parameters. In addition, I will identify several dimensions along which we can analyze marginality in order to help predict its consequences for both individual and society. Finally, I will suggest research areas to which application of the concept of marginality might be fruitful. Although marginality theory was originally cast in terms of the “marginal man,” women equally experience marginality, both individually and as a group. Therefore, I have employed “marginal person” except in quoting the classical 夽 An
earlier version of this chapter appeared as “No Owner of Soil: The Concept of Marginality on Its Sixtieth Birthday,” International Review of Modern Sociology, Autumn 1988, 18: 183–204. Reprinted with permission. Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 29–47 © 2005 Published by Elsevier Ltd. ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12003-5
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writings. Of all social phenomena, marginality, can hardly be thought of as bounded by gender, race, religion, ethnicity, class, or other defining categories.
A MULTIPLICITY OF MEANINGS Marginality has been redefined beyond the initial emphasis Park and Stonequist placed on the cultural marginality of persons and groups. A reading of the sociological literature since 1928 reveals at least three distinct ways of using the term “marginality.” For ease of discussion, I designate them cultural marginality, social role marginality, and structural marginality, according to whether the linchpin of marginal status rests in cultural differences, individual roles, or location in the social structure. Cultural marginality refers to the dilemmas of cross-cultural contact and assimilation that dominated classical statements. Race, ethnicity, religion, and other cultural differences are the defining variables in this type of marginality, which usually stems from a hierarchical valuation of two cultures in which an individual participates. One either belongs to the “in-group” or remains in the “out-group.” Relations between the two fall along the lines of either acceptance or rejection, belonging or isolation (Glass, 1962; Gordon, 1978; Harman, 1987; Herrick, 1977; Jacob, 1980; Woods, 1972). Gist (1967) and Gist and Wright (1973) distinguished between social and cultural marginality (both of which I define as cultural marginality). They documented how a clash of cultures produces a measurable psycho-social impact on the individual’s personality, as well as ambiguities of status and role. Such impacts include anxiety, depression, identity confusion, anger, and even suicide. The intermingling of cultures, races, and ethnic groups continues to weave an important part of the fabric of contemporary society and to stimulate study of the marginal person (Bunster & Chaney, 1985; Human, 1981; Lee, 1995; Mayer, 1961, 1980; Smith, 1980; Willie, 1975). Cultural marginality exists in every modern society because not all individuals or groups share equally in a common culture (Endruweit, 1981). With the redrawing of political boundaries, intermarriage, the flow of immigrants and refugees across international borders, and frequent internal migrations, cultural marginality is both omnipresent and important to understand within the context of majority/minority relations, racism, ethnocentrism, prejudice, stereotypes, and intergenerational cultural change. The “intellectual fringe” in any society, comprised of authors, social analysts, and pundits who position themselves on the edge – and who belong to neither the in-group nor the out-group – offer another example of cultural marginality (Eckstein, 1990; Gray, 1991).2
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Social role marginality occurs when an individual cannot fully belong to a positive reference group because of age, timing, situational constraints, or when an occupational role is defined as marginal. Examples include women breaking into traditionally male-dominated professions (Aisenberg & Harrington, 1988; Bowker & Cox, 1982; Cuthbert, 1987 [1942]; Holderness, 1987); minorities trying to acquire an equal education (Miller, 1994); membership in a role that lies between two bracketing roles (like the adolescent, poised between childhood and adulthood) or the amateur (Stebbins, 1979); or membership in marginally-defined groups such as chiropractors (Rosenthal, 1981; Wardwell, 1952) or merchant seamen (Forsyth & Bankston, 1983). Wittermans and Krauss (1964) considered this “structural marginality,” but I prefer social role marginality because it is the person’s or group’s role that produces marginality, not his or her location in the social structure. We will see later that social role marginality often changes as a person moves from one role to another, or his or social role moves toward a less marginal definition. Social role marginality better describes the lack of fit experienced by the individual into the group. In the case of the adolescent, for example, the “restriction of institutionalized roles” prevents full group membership. Structural marginality, the third prominent usage of the term, refers to the political, social, and economic powerlessness of certain disenfranchised and/or disadvantaged segments within societies. It springs from location in the socioeconomic structure of society, rather than from cultural or social role dilemmas. Structurally marginalized groups have drawn extensive attention particularly from sociologists in Europe, Latin America, and South America (Achleitner, 1981; Barel, 1982; Bennholdt-Thomsen, 1981; De Queljoe, 1974; Ferrarotti, 1978; Ferrarotti & Bolaffi, 1981; Garcia-Zamor, 1982; Geremek, 1987; Guarrasi, 1978; Levy-Stringer, 1977; Marie, 1981; Meinardus, 1982; Oliven, 1981; Perlman, 1976; Rodriguez, 1981; Statera, 1981; Tap & Malewska-Peyre, 1993; Velez-Ibanez, 1983). The original “marginal man” idea cross-fertilizes with conflict perspectives on oppression and exploitation to create contemporary conceptualizations of structural marginality. Scholars often describe structural marginality as an inevitable consequence of capitalistic economic systems and as closely related to the crime, violence, ghettoization, and unyielding poverty that characterize such systems (BennholdtThomsen, 1981; Chabannes & Bancal, 1976; Marie, 1981; Rodriguez, 1981). Although Ferrarotti (1981) terms this “social marginality,” his reference a process whereby people move from a proletariat to an under-proletariat condition parallels what I call, more broadly, structural marginality. In focusing on the interrelationships among marginality, poverty, and stratification, Germani defines marginality as the “lack of participation of individuals and groups in those spheres in which, according to determined criteria, they might be expected to participate”
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(1980, p. 49). It is this usage of marginality that dominates recent literature.3 Structural marginality also includes those who fall outside of mainstream social organization – gangs, bohemians, gypsies, the homeless, and anarchists (cf. Sibley, 1981; Mizruchi, 1987). Finally, refugees constitute a more extreme form of politically-generated structural marginality (Chakrabarti, 1990). Besides identifying these three types of marginality, we can delineate several dimensions that help us understand the nature of particular marginal situations. First, however, I will review the classical statements of marginality theory and their weaknesses.
THE CLASSICAL STATEMENTS: “BETWEEN TWO FIRES” In Park’s introduction to The Marginal Man (Stonequist, 1937), he referred to the interpenetration of cultures resulting from expanded contacts between Europe and other parts of the world. Thus Park prepared the stage for Stonequist’s work. The setting is a marginal area, “a region where two cultures overlap and where the occupying group combines traits of both cultures” (Stonequist, 1937, p. 213). The plot emerges from the fact that, for Stonequist, the two cultures are antagonistic as well as different. The main character is the marginal man, struggling to forge an identity “between two fires” (Stonequist, 1937, p. 101). The marginal person may be a “racial hybrid” such as the Eurasians of India or the Cape Coloureds of South Africa, or a “cultural hybrid” such as Europeanized Africans or the children of immigrants. Stonequist defined the marginal man in terms of individuals and groups who move from one culture into another, or who in some way – through marriage, education, or birth for example – find themselves linked simultaneously with two cultures: The marginal man is . . . poised in psychological uncertainty between two (or more) social worlds; reflecting in his soul the discords and harmonies, repulsions and attractions of these worlds, one of which is often “dominant” over the other; within which membership is implicitly if not explicitly based upon birth or ancestry (race or nationality); and where exclusion removes the individual from a system of group relations (1937, p. 8).
Following William James, Stonequist acknowledged that since each of us has as many social selves as we have audiences, we experience at some point in our lives the kind of “dual personality” associated with marginality. But the causes and effects of culturally-determined marginality intrigued Stonequist more than individually determined accidents of psychology. A subsequent treatment of
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the marginal man by Antonovsky (1956) delineated much that was nebulous in Stonequist. Antonovsky suggested that marginality occurs when two cultures, one of them dominant and attractive to the other, are in contact, especially for more than one generation. The marginal group internalizes the patterns of the dominant culture, but cannot readily integrate them with their own values and goals. Attempts to belong to the dominant culture may be met by discrimination on the one hand and condemnation for “betrayal” on the other, as in the case of attempts to “pass.” Antonovsky also stressed the “superior reward potential” of the dominant culture as a factor in its attraction to the marginal group. The example of African Americans readily comes to mind (Majors & Billson, 1992). Milton Gordon (1964) argued that marginality is more likely to be a problem when a person engages in “systematic” (as opposed to “exceptional”) primary group contacts across ethnic rather than class lines. He contended that contacts across class lines are associated with vertical mobility and, in the United States at least, are condoned if not encouraged. This mirrors Stonequist’s concentration on racial and ethnic hybrids. From this brief perusal of the earlier literature on marginality, we can see that the concept refers to a social phenomenon characterized by unsatisfactory, conflicting, inadequate, or unstable definitions of a person’s self and/or his or her role relationships with others. Marginality is not limited to the immigrant or racial/cultural hybrids of which Stonequist wrote. Rather, any time a person (or group) feels caught between two identity-providing orientations, but is not allowed to embrace the preferred role – or either role (because of structural or social limitations) – he or she is in a marginal situation.
PROBLEMS WITH THE CONCEPT Clearly scholars perceive marginality as being a problematic situation for the individual or group experiencing it. Its antecedents and consequences are diverse and it manifests itself in different forms and degrees of seriousness, yet we use the term as though it were a unitary phenomenon. “Marginal man” is an omnibus term that, by including everything includes nothing (1947, p. 168). We must apply the term carefully and only after we specify its parameters. The more contemporary writing on marginality, as noted above, stresses the structural marginality of disenfranchised populations within societies, whose lack of access to the means of production and the mainstream’s reward system results in perpetuation of poverty and powerlessness. While conflict analysis helps us understand the plight of much of the world’s population, this treatment of marginality stems not from Park and Stonequist, but from Marx and Engels,
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and focuses on societal rather than personality dynamics. Yet, although structural marginality may have a separate intellectual foundation and somewhat different sources in society, many of its manifestations and implications for social processes are similar to those of cultural and social role marginality. A second problem with the concept of marginality is that some scholars have equated uncertainty of social belonging (cf. Lewin, 1948) with the personality conflict Park and Stonequist defined as central to the marginal “personality type.” To a greater or lesser degree, scholars have observed that being marginal renders one subject to identity confusion, personality disorder, insecurity, anxiety, lack of inner harmony, even self-hatred. The marginal person may beg, borrow, steal, or rent a sense of social belonging, but to use Simmel’s words in describing the stranger (Wolff, 1950), he or she is “no owner of soil.” Yet, other social conditions (alienation, anomie, poverty, or rapid social change) may produce uncertainty of social belonging, anxiety, or self-hatred, as in the case of structural marginalization of peoples within a larger society (e.g. Native Americans). Conversely, because of other personality or social factors, a marginal situation as defined by social scientists may not be anxiety-producing for the individual involved (Campbell, 1980). Thus, confusion may exist between “objective” and “subjective” marginality. A third problem is that marginal situations range from the trivial to the lifedetermining, from the temporary to the permanent, and from the individual to the societal (some would even argue global, as in structural marginalization of whole segments of the world population). In other words, whether the marginality stems from cultural, social role, or structural sources, we assume that its parameters are equally significant. In the next section I offer several dimensions along which we can describe or measure marginality. These dimensions are not exhaustive, but may help to clarify what we mean when we use the terms marginal or marginality and to predict their consequences for individuals or groups. Following in the traditions of Stonequist, Park, and Merton, the dimensions best describe cultural and social role marginality.
DIMENSIONS OF MARGINALITY Whatever form marginality takes, the extent of personal discomfort varies, ranging from “. . . an inner strain and malaise, a feeling of isolation or of not quite belonging” to “discouragement and perhaps despair” (Stonequist, 1937, pp. 201, 202). The extreme is mental disorganization and/or suicide. I suggest that the degree of personal maladjustment (or social change), and consequently the importance of a given marginal situation for sociological study, is a function of the interplay of
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several dimensions.4 I present them here in proposition form in order to highlight theoretical components that might help us predict which marginal situations will be most likely to produce anxiety, discomfort, or lack of fit (from either the individual’s or the community’s point of view). Research can determine which dimensions tend to be associated with each other or with particular types of marginality. 1. Essential vs. Processual Marginality: The more essential the marginality, the more likely it will result in maladjustment or change. Both cultural hybrids and adolescents may occupy marginal positions, but the nature of their marginality varies in terms of source, structure, and permanence. One is in an essential marginal position; the other is in a processual marginal position. Essential marginality: This type of marginality concerns the plight of individuals whose roles place them “in the middle” between two potentially salient reference groups. Essential marginality implies structure and stasis; a situation that is marginal by virtue of structural limitations; marginality by definition. For example, the foreman cannot become “just one of the boys” nor a member of the top echelons of management. Presumably neither group would allow him to encroach upon the boundaries of their specific role territories, nor would he be able to fulfill the role of foreman successfully were he to do so (Wray, 1949). A second kind of essential marginality occurs when individual or group heritage is based on two distinct and possibly antagonistic sources. A woman who is by birth part English and part Indian cannot be wholly English or wholly Indian (by biological or cultural definition), but combines certain traits of both groups. This person cannot change the fact that she is Anglo-Indian, any more than can a mulatto or Metis or Chinese-American. Marginality may also be inherent in a choice a person makes (acquired or achieved status rather than ascribed), as in the case of a man and woman who marry across faith or racial lines and find themselves outcast in their communities of orientation. Figure 1 illustrates the intersection of two cultures when intermarriage creates essential marginality. A third kind of essential marginality occurs when a smaller and/or subordinate group is contained within the boundaries of a larger and/or dominant group. Stonequist described this position well: “The clearest . . . marginal types are often those who culturally belong to the dominant group, but racially are members of the subordinate group” (1937, p. 221). For example, a successful black doctor in modern America is culturally a member of the middle class (which also contains other racial groups), and racially is a member of the subordinate group. This simultaneity of membership can be represented by the diagram for “A is a proper subset of B” – that is, A shares the defining qualities of B (income, education, professional status, values), but in addition has some distinctive quality that sets A apart within B (race). Figure 2 illustrates this type of essential marginality.
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Fig. 1. Essential Marginality (a).
Fig. 2. Essential Marginality (b).
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A broken line around A could represent the phenomenon of an individual “passing” as a member of the reference group. Further examples of essential marginality include the nouveaux riches (they meet all qualifications for upperupper class membership except, by definition, “old family” lineage and tradition); the visiting professor; the diplomat; the exchange student; the lay minister. In some cases of essential marginality the role is marginal. If the person chooses to leave the role, he or she is no longer marginal (e.g. nurse practitioner, diplomat, exchange student). Similarly, if a person is marginal because of membership in a subordinate group, that marginality can recede or disappear if the relationship between dominant and subordinate groups reverses during the person’s lifetime (as in the softening of apartheid in South Africa). Processual Marginality: Processual marginality is dynamic rather than static. The person is not by definition marginal because he or she is a product of two different groups. The person’s transition between two groups creates his or her marginality. The person attempts to move from one social position to another. Marginality occurs when, in the process of moving from the feeder-group to the recipient group (usually a positive reference group), the person is still partially rooted in the former, but has not yet been fully accepted by the latter. Figure 3 illustrates processual marginality. Depending on the stage of transition, we can draw the
Fig. 3. Processual Marginality.
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circles closer to group B or to group C. Note that we can show person A as being oriented toward (→) two groups, rather than as a member of either or both. Processual marginality includes situations of recruitment or training such as internship (student→intern→doctor), a transition facilitated by achievement; and adolescence (child→adolescent→adult), a transition of ascription. Other examples of processual marginality are recruits or replacements; the apprentice in a trade or profession (the intern, the graduate teaching assistant); converts (religious, political); or, in general, any situation in which a person moves vertically or horizontally between conflicting, competing, or contradictory statuses. I address below the degree to which essential and processual marginality form a permanent and central part of the individual’s life. 2. Changeability of the situation: The more permanent and unchangeable the marginal situation, the greater the degree of maladjustment. Essentially marginal situations tend to be permanent; processual marginality tends to be less permanent and more changeable. Stonequist emphasized the significance of racial and nationality group membership conflicts because he felt these represent “relatively fixed and permanent” characteristics of the person who is marginal, thus intensifying marginality (1937, p. 7). Wardwell argued that the marginality experienced by chiropractors feels less disorganizing because it results from their choice (an achieved rather than an ascribed status). Chiropractors can renounce that status, whereas, say, a black person cannot decide not to be black (1952, p. 340). Garcia-Zamor (1982) found that blacks in Brazil hold a relatively permanent position of marginality because the forces of tradition (including late abolition of slavery) and rigidities of the status quo hamper social change. D’Souza (1979) analyzed slum households in the Punjab region of India and found that occupancy of the lowest position in the social hierarchy is socially inherited and perpetuated, thereby making it unlikely that marginality will be mitigated over time. A corollary to this proposition centers on the question of whether the person can change the marginality or must rely on others to redefine his or her position. This becomes critical in the case of the young person who submits to hazing as part of initiation rites into fraternal membership. 3. Salience: The more central the marginal situation to a person’s identity, the greater the degree of maladjustment. Park, for example, noted that gypsies are not truly marginal people because they carry their “home ties” with them (1928, pp. 890, 891). Their marginality is territorial in nature, limited in its emotional impact by the persistence of traditional social, cultural, familial, and occupational patterns. Their marginality, insofar as it exists, is peripheral to their core identity. Similarly, Wardwell suggested that the marginality of chiropractors is not as central
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to them as is the marginality of blacks, because occupational identities, though powerful, are not as “all-pervasive” as racial identities (1952, p. 340). Bowker and Cox (1982) found that sociologists teaching in social work departments exhibited few of the characteristics of marginality, because many of the professional sources of identity stem from common intellectual grounds and shared concerns. 4. Visibility: The more visibly marginal the person, the greater the degree of maladjustment. Hughes distinguished between “subjective” marginality, visible only to the individual (as in the case of passing), and “objective” marginality, visible to both the person and to others (1949, p. 59). The more visible the person’s marginality, the fewer arenas of interaction or audiences will he or she be non-marginal in – hence the increase in the degree of maladjustment. Hidden marginality may create severe tensions in and of itself. There arises also the possibility that a person may not feel marginal at all, but is perceived as such in the eyes of others. Baltzell (1964, pp. 62–70) wrote of the completely acculturated person who is still defined as a member by descent of a religious, ethnic, or racial minority (cf. Dickie-Clark, 1966a, b). 5. Cultural conflict: The greater the extent and degree of differences in the cultural forms of the two identity-providing groups, the greater the degree of maladjustment. A person emigrating from Canada to the United States might be expected to experience less maladjustment, all other things being equal, than a person moving from Canada to Senegal. As Green (1947) pointed out, differences in cultural forms do not necessarily imply conflict between culture groups as political and social entities. Golovensky’s criticisms of marginality relate to this dimension: The marginal man concept is a “sociological fiction based on a stereotype” (1952, p. 335). Since no culture is monolithic, everyone is marginal to some extent. I suggest that differences in and of themselves do not create marginality, especially within the context of a pluralistic ethos. Differences that remain irreconcilable with a person’s community of orientation or original weltanschauung create anxiety (cf. Turner, 1964). The work of Bunster and Chaney on rural women who migrate to Peru’s cities is instructive. The women must reconstruct “survival networks” or “links to kin and community that make the difference between what people can earn and what they need to live successfully in the city” (1985, p. 7). This process is all the more difficult in the face of pronounced language, racial, and ethnic differences between the migrant and the urban culture. 6. Group conflict: The greater the conflict between two groups as political and social entities, the greater the degree of maladjustment for the marginal person caught between them. As Stonequist argued, if significant hostility exists between two groups, then “the problem of the individual whose sentiments and career are
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bound up with both may well be acute” (1937, p. 3). The plight of the marginal person is that he or she aggravates the feeder-group in the process of moving toward acceptance by the recipient group – and incurs the wrath of the latter for not moving fast enough (in the case of processual marginality). In the case of essential marginality, the person is subject to the anxieties generated by conflicting multiple loyalties (Willie, 1975). In either case, the degree of hostility between the two groups amplifies this tension (cf. Kerckhoff & McCormick, 1955). Human’s study of black managers in South Africa documented the “inner strain and malaise” that can result from occupying a marginal role between two groups that are in heated and persistent conflict. The black manager is “living a schizophrenic existence . . . in a no-man’s land between two cultures . . .” filled with inconsistencies and role conflicts” (1981, pp. 11–13). 7. Attitude of Feeder-Group: The more the marginal person’s feeder-group protests, resents, or resists his or her movement into the recipient group, the greater maladjustment. This pertains to processual marginality, and assumes that the person wishes to become a member of the recipient group. Slotkin (1943) suggested that if the feeder-group is subordinate to the recipient group, the marginal person’s position between the two will be threatening to the feeder-group, especially if it is disorganized. Maintaining the boundaries of the group may take precedence over individual needs for mobility or acceptance. Of course feeder groups vary in their strength. The family is automatically emotionally significant, but may be disorganized; other feeder groups vary in emotional valence and organization (Riesman, 1980). 8. Permeability of Recipient-Group: The more the recipient group protests, resents, or resists the marginal person’s movement into its ranks, the greater the maladjustment. The marginal person is one who “seeks to abandon one membership group for another to which he is socially forbidden access” (Merton, 1957, p. 266). Echoing Merton’s position, Hiro (1973) reported a tendency for some West Indians to re-identify with their culture after they discover that native English people do not particularly reward identification with being English. Many claim that even their English-born children are not accepted as “true English,” and consequently renew their West Indian loyalty. Presumably this reaction would tend to mitigate the sense of marginality, since it reduces the power of the English as a positive reference group. As one respondent related, “As a young child I wanted be called an Englishman.” By 1969 he considered himself a “West Indian and a black person” (1973, p. 87). Kanter (1977) illustrated this principle in her portrayal of the “O” among “X’s” – the woman executive who finds herself alone among hostile males at an executive meeting. Similarly, Githens and Prestage (1977) described the marginal experience
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of American women who try to enter politics only to find that men engaged in the political arena are “reticent” in accepting them. Pellow (1983) argued that women as a group might justifiably be considered marginal. She studied urban African women who play “innovative” roles in penetrating resistant male bastions of power, identifying still with women as their chief source of identity, but also with the male opportunity structure (cf. Saraceno, 1980; Schirmer, 1982). 9. Direction of Identification: The closer to “equal” identification with both groups, the greater the degree of maladjustment. This dimension is related to the above two dimensions, but is nonetheless distinct. Green claimed that a person who participates in two cultures will experience marginality only if he or she identifies simultaneously (and about equally) with both (1947, pp. 170, 171). The assumption here is that a stronger identification with one or the other group (or heritage) will help resolve the conflicts inherent in marginality. The work of Mayer (1961) on native migrants to East London (Cape Province) South Africa indicated that the process of being accepted by the urban system may take ten to fifteen years. During this time some migrants are what he termed “double-rooted.” They identify with and keep up with news, contacts, and culture of the town of origin. At the same time they establish contacts, learn the culture, and participate in the daily life of the city: “While some of them clearly feel as countrymen in exile, and others equally clearly have leanings towards urbanization, there remain a large class who seem intent on keeping a footing in both camps” (1961, p. 224). The double-rooted engage in a classically adaptive dual identification: They try to think not in terms of “either/or” identity, but in terms of “both.” This may afford them security in the event they are not accepted into urban life in the end, but it retards their opportunities for adjusting successfully to their adopted city. Other research indicates that dual identification may result in cultural enrichment and addition rather than replacement, loss, or conflict, as in the case of the “150% Man” described among the Montana Blackfeet by McFee (1968). Golovensky claimed that marginality will occur only if the person moving toward a new group denies his or her previous heritage (1952, p. 338). This does not apply to those who are born marginal. For example, people with racially different parents may find that society will not accept denial of one race or the other in their genetic heritage. Also, Golovensky’s position implies that clinging to the “old ways” will lessen marginality; many second-generation persons would name that as the very curse that slowed the process of assimilation for their immigrant parents. For them it would only serve to prolong marginality (cf. Cohen, 1975, on “assertive marginality.”) Finally, Hughes (1949) suggested that equal identification in both directions will inevitably intensify maladjustment. Long rites of passage perform a positive
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function because they ensure that marginals will not exist among the graduate group of new members – priests, nuns, or doctors, for example. Their identification with the role will be complete. This is reminiscent of the “Americanization” movements of the early part of this century when native-born residents believed the only response to the waves of immigrants hitting our shores was to turn them into 100% Americans. Full assimilation obviated any conflicts in identification or loyalty, diminishing marginality and its concomitant anxieties and problems of social control. 10. Voluntary Nature of Position: The more voluntary the marginal person’s status, the less likely the maladjustment. We can predict that involuntary occupation of a marginal position will have more devastating social and psychological consequences for individuals and groups than the marginality imposed by free choice (e.g. marrying across racial lines). The case of forced exile or imprisonment in a “relocation” camp, as with Japanese residents of the United States during World War II, clearly represents an involuntary imposition of marginal status. Theoretically, structural marginality may always be involuntary. For instance, Perlman (1976) argued that the privileged classes impose the structural marginality suffered by poor, urban Mexicans. They are not marginal by choice – they are marginalized through oppression, exclusion, stigma, stereotyping, or societal conflict. Velez-Ibanez (1983) used this same perspective in his study of marginality in urban Mexico. (Refugees and “displaced persons” from war-torn regions constitute another although slightly different example.) Consequences can be far-reaching for societies that force marginality on segments of their populations through exile, slavery, camps, or institutionalized racism/sexism. It is under involuntary conditions of marginality that individuals and groups may be motivated to create extremely cohesive subcultures that may become crucibles of resistance or revolution. In contrast, some argue that the case of homelessness in modern American society is “voluntary” acquisition of marginal status. In the face of recent trends toward deinstitutionalization, cutbacks in federal funds for social services, anti-vagrant backlash ordinances, and pressure from the general public to keep the homeless out of sight (and mind), the question of voluntariness becomes increasingly questionable and assumes critical importance both theoretically and for policy implications (Gelman et al., 1987).
CONCLUSION Marginality, which scholars have treated as a unitary concept, in fact encompasses at least three distinct types (cultural, social role, and structural). The effects
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of marginality on a person’s identity and psycho-social well-being are not absolute, nor are the effects on cohesiveness and identity of groups and subcultures. The consequences of marginal status depend on its permanence, centrality, voluntariness, and whether it is essential or processual in nature. Relationships between two identity-providing groups and their attitudes toward the marginal person also help determine the degree of maladjustment associated with marginality. These propositions regarding the severity of maladjustment linked with marginality may shed light on its significance as a social phenomenon and may stimulate further research and theoretical reformulations. Questions that will continue to refine the concept of marginality and stretch its usefulness include: Are societies characterized by different types of marginality by virtue of differences in degree of closure against internal groups? Are different systems of distribution of scarce resources related to particular types of marginality? To what extent are political, economic, and social change issues (so central to structural marginality) also related to cultural and social role marginality? What are the dynamics of subcultures that grow up around social role marginality (adolescence, for instance)? How does marginality relate conceptually to concepts such as role conflict, reference group, and social ambivalence? Who determines the existence of marginality? What happens when individuals and groups experience multiple marginalities? What types of marginal positions are likely to result in socially constructive vs. destructive behavior, personally uplifting or debilitating responses, active or passive reactions? Answers to these and other questions will help lift the concept of marginality out of the morass of confusion into which it has fallen and will make it an even more powerful theoretical tool for continuing analysis of society in an age that is, if anything, characterized by marginality and marginal people.
NOTES 1. Predating Park’s first usage of “marginal man,” Thrasher had referred in 1927 to the gang as an “interstitial element” that falls between immigrant groups in the city’s social organization. 2. This does not include those who have used the term “marginal” to refer to lack of integration of the self or personality (Muller, 1987).
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3. A recent Library of Congress computer search yielded 195 entries under “social marginality” (what I refer to as “structural marginality”). Of these, 96 were focused on marginalized populations of Spain, Portugal, Latin America, or South America; 39 were focused on English-speaking nations; 23 on Germany; 22 on France; and 15 on Italy. Entries regarding cultural marginality or social role marginality were small in number, reflecting a shift away from use of the concept in terms of individual experience toward structural marginality. 4. I use the term “maladjustment” for convenience and lack of a more neutral term which would still embrace the multiple potential problems associated with marginality. Marginality may in fact produce innovation, creativity, or other positive consequences for individual and/or society. The work on role conflict suggests that marginality can actually have positive effects through reducing demands for conformity and increasing role flexibility, role choices, or innovation. Such groups as the Amish, Doukhobors, Hutterites, and Mennonites choose to set themselves apart from the mainstream and to use their socio-cultural isolation to build group cohesion. Within each group, however, it is still possible for individual members to feel part of a community, rather than marginal. Also, individuals may take advantage of a marginal position to gain special privileges or assistance, “milking” it to the fullest extent (e.g. the “perpetual adolescent”). Nonetheless, the sense in which marginality has been utilized historically (and is used here) implies that the person who experiences a marginal role will be faced with special problems of “adjustment” which others in non-marginal roles will not have to face.
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Cuthbert, M. V. (1987). Education and marginality: A study of the negro college woman graduate (1942). New York: Garland. De Queljoe, D. H. (1974). Marginal man in a colonial society: Abdoel Moeis’ Salas asuhan. Papers in International Studies: Southeast Asia Series, 32. Athens, OH: Ohio University, Center for International Studies. Dickie-Clark, H. F. (1966a). The marginal situation. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Dickie-Clark, H. F. (1966b). The marginal situation: A contribution to marginal theory. Social Forces, 44(March), 363–370. D’Souza, V. S. (1979, March–September). Socio-cultural marginality: A theory of urban slums and poverty in India. Sociological Bulletin, 28(1–2), 9–24. Eckstein, N. T. (1990). The marginal man as novelist: The Norwegian-American writers. New York: Garland. Endruweit, G. (1981). Entwicklungssoziologische Perspektiven fur die kulturelle Situation von Minderheiten in Europa. (Prospects in developmental sociology for the cultural situation of minorities in Europe). Schweizerische Zeitschrift fur Soziologie/Revue Suisse de Sociologie, 7(2), 199–221. Ferrarotti, F. (1978). Mercato del Lavoro, Marginalita Sociale e Struttura di Classe in Italia (Labor market, social marginality and class structure in Italy). Milano: F. Angeli. Ferrarotti, F., & Bolaffi, C. (1981, Spring). Social marginality and violence in neourban societies. Social Research, 48(1), 183–222. Forsyth, C. J., & Bankston, W. B. (1983, May). The merchant seaman as a social type: A marginal life-style. Free Inquiry in Creative Sociology, 11(1), 8–12. Garcia-Zamor, J.-C. (1982, May–August). El marginalismo del negro brasileno (The marginalism of the Black Brazilian). Revista Paraguaya de Sociologia, 19(54), 67–77. Gelman, D., et al. (1987). Forcing the mentally ill to get help. Newsweek (November 9), 47–48. Geremek, B. (1987). The margins of society in late medieval Paris (Trans. from the French by Jean Birrell). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Germani, G. (1980). Marginality. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books. Gist, N. P. (1967). Cultural vs. social marginality: The Anglo-Indian case. Phylon, 28(December), 361–375. Gist, N. P., & Wright, R. D. (1973). Marginality and identity: Anglo-Indians as a racially-mixed minority in India. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Githens, M., & Prestage, J. L. (Eds). (1977). A portrait of marginality: The political behavior of the American Woman. New York: David McKay Company. Glass, R. (1962). Insiders-outsiders: The position of minorities. New left review, 17(Winter), 34–45. Goldberg, M. M. (1941). A qualification of the marginal man theory. American Sociological Review, 6(February), 52–58. Golovensky, D. I. (1952). The marginal man concept: An analysis and critique. Social Forces, 30(March), 333–339. Gordon, M. M. (1964). Assimilation in American life. New York: Oxford University Press. Gordon, M. M. (1978). Marginality and the Jewish intellectual. In: Human Nature, Class, and Ethnicity. New York: Oxford University Press. Gray, P. (1991). Marginal men: Edward Thomas, Ivor Gurney, J. R. Ackerley. Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan. Green, A. W. (1947). A re-examination of the marginal man concept. Social Forces, 26(December), 167–171. Guarrasi, V. (1978). La Condizione Marginale (The Marginal Condition). Palermo: Sellerio Editore.
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Herrick, R. (1977). The paradox of marginality. In: A. B. Shostak (Ed.), Our Sociological Eye: Personal Essays on Society and Culture (pp. 67–77). Port Washington, NY: Alfred. Hiro, D. (1973). Black British, white British. New York: Monthly Review Press. Holderness, M. (1987). Marginal woman. Barnsley: M. Holderness. Human, L. N. (1981). The black manager in a white world: A new perspective. Working Paper 81–02. Pretoria: University of South Africa. Jacob, J. C. (1980, Fall). Urban poverty, children, and the consumption of popular culture: A perspective on marginality theses from a Latin American squatter settlement. Human Organization, 39(3), 233–241. Kanter, R. M. (1977). Men and women of the corporation. New York: Basic Books. Kerckhoff, A. C., & McCormick, T. C. (1955). Marginal status and marginal personality. Social Forces, 34(October), 48–55. Lee, J. Y. (1995). Marginality: The key to multicultural theology. Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Levy-Stringer, J. (1977). Les marginaux: Une nouvelle force politique en France (Marginals: A new political force in France). Paris: Fayolle. Lewin, K. (1948). Resolving social conflicts. New York: Harper & Brothers. Marie, A. (1981). Marginalite et conditions sociales du proletariat urbain en Afrique: Les approches du concept de marginalite et son evaluation critique. (Marginality and social status of the urban proletariat in Africa: An approach from the concept of marginality and a critical evaluation). Cahiers d’etudes Africaines, 21(1–3) (81–83), 347–374. Mayer, P. (1961). Townsmen or tribesmen: Conservativism and the process of Urbanization in a South African city (Xhosa in Town) (With Iona Mayer). Cape Town: Oxford University Press. Mayer, P. (Ed.). (1980). Black villagers in an industrial society: Anthropological perspectives on labour migration in South Africa. Cape Town: Oxford University Press. McFee, M. (1968). The 150% man, a product of Blackfeet acculturation. American Anthropologist, 70, 1096–1103. Meinardus, M. (1982). Marginalitat: Theoretische aspekte und entwicklungspolitische konsequenzen (Marginality: Theoretical aspects and consequences for political development). Fort Lauderdale: Breitenbach. Merton, R. K. (1957). Social theory and social structure. New York: Free Press. Miller, E. (1994). Marginalization of the black male: Insights from the development of the teaching profession. Mona, Jamaica: Canoe Press. Mizruchi, E. H. (1987). Regulating society: Beguines, bohemians, and other marginals. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Muller, R. J. (1987). The marginal self: An existential inquiry into narcissism. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press International. Oliven, R. G. (1981, October–December). Aspectos economicos, politicos y culturales de la marginalidad urbana en America Latina (Economic, political, and cultural aspects of urban marginality in Latin America). Revista Mexicana de Sociologia, 43(4), 1627–1643. Park, R. E. (1928). Human migration and the marginal man. American Journal of Sociology, 33(May), 881–893. Pellow, D. (1983). Marginality and individual consciousness: Women in modernizing Africa. Working Paper 28, Women in International Development. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University. Perlman, J. E. (1976). The myth of marginality: Urban poverty and politics in Rio de Janeiro. Berkeley: University of California Press. Riesman, D. (1980). Personal communication (April 16).
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Rodriguez Silverio, R. (1981, October–December). La marginalidad estructural en Paraguay Analisis de uno de los sintomas paradigmaticos de subdesarrollo (Structural marginality in Paraguay: Analysis of one of the paradigmatic symptoms of underdevelopment). Revista Mexicana de Sociologia, 43(4), 1579–1625. Rosenthal, S. F. (1981, October). Marginal or mainstream: Two studies of contemporary chiropractic. Sociological Focus, 14(4), 271–285. Saraceno, C. (1980). La condizione femminile come caso specifico di emarginazione? (Is woman’s condition a specific instance of emargination?). Quaderni di Sociologia, 29(3), 524–534. Schirmer, J. G. (1982, September). Working women’s marginalization in Denmark: Traditional assumptions and economic consequences of social and labor market policies. Journal of Sociology and Social Welfare, 9(3), 450–462. Sibley, D. (1981). Outsiders in urban societies. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Slotkin, J. S. (1943). Status of the marginal man. Sociology and Social Research, 28(September), 47–54. Smith, M. E. (1980). The Portuguese female immigrant: The ‘marginal man’. International Migration Review, 14(1, Spring), 77–92. Statera, G. (1981). L’ipotesi autogestionaria come risposta all’emarginazione e alla violenza sociale (Self-government as a reply to marginality and social violence). Sociologia e Ricerca Sociale, 2(4, April), 7–20. Stebbins, R. A. (1979). Amateurs: On the margin between work and leisure. Beverly Hills: Sage. Stonequist, E. V. (1937). The marginal man: A study in personality and culture. New York: Scribners. Tap, P., & Malewska-Peyre, H. (1993). Marginalites et troubles de la socialisation. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Turner, R. (1964). The social context of ambition. San Francisco: Chandler. Velez-Ibanez, C. G. (1983). Rituals of marginality: Politics, process, and culture change in urban central Mexico, 1969–1974. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wardwell, W. I. (1952). A marginal professional role: The chiropractor. Social Forces, 30(March), 339–348. Willie, C. V. (1975). Oreo: A perspective on race and marginal men and women. Wakefield, MA: Parameter Press. Witterman, T., & Krauss, I. (1964). Structural marginality and social worth. Sociology and Social Research, 48(April), 348–350. Wolff, K. H. (1950). The sociology of Georg Simmel. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Woods, F. J. (1972). Marginality and identity: A colored creole family through ten generations. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University. Wray, D. E. (1949). Marginal men of industry: The foreman. American Journal of Sociology, 54(January), 298–301.
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THE MARGINAL MAN: EVOLUTION OF A CONCEPT Thomas H. Jenkins A double minded man is unstable in all his ways. James 1:8
INTRODUCTION The concept of Social Marginality, one of the most used terms in sociology, owes much of its existence to the Marginal Man concept, formally introduced by Robert E. Park in the late 1920s, and further specified and established by Everett V. Stonequist in the late 1930s. Since then the concept has been developed further and refined; and contemporary social scientists find the concept of social marginality useful in their empirical research and as the basis for theoretical arguments (see, for example, Burkhardt, 1983; Gibbs, 1987; Starr & Robers, 1980; Weiman, 1982). The literature reflects three distinct overlapping phases in the use of the term: (1) marginal personality (Marginal Man); (2) marginal group (social marginality); and (3) marginal community (sociological, ecological). While the relevance of these latter two phases is dealt with in the postscript, the principal focus of this paper is to trace the historical and interdisciplinary intellectual development of the Marginal Man concept. Much more attention was given the concept during the 1930s and 1940s than in subsequent decades, and a definite waning preceded a more recent and slight upsurge. Therefore older sources (and sometimes original ones) assume a greater importance than would otherwise be the case.
Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 49–67 © 2005 Published by Elsevier Ltd. ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12004-7
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THE MARGINAL MAN The sociological concept, the Marginal Man, “originated” with Robert E. Park, then at the University of Chicago (Hughes, 1949). Park gave the first clear articulation of the hypothesis and introduced the concept (Hughes & Hughes, 1952, p. 189) in his essay “Human Migration and the Marginal Man.” But Hughes (1949) in a critique of Park’s essay, advanced the idea that Park stood on the shoulders of others who had gone before him. The Marginal Man, according to Park, arises out of racial and cultural conflict situations in the development of new societies and the merger of new peoples and new cultures (Park, 1937). Park, and others following him, have pointed to several types of etiological conditions associated with the social production of the Marginal Man: by way of social change, including wars; human movement; culture contact; racial, political upheaval; cultural and ethnic conflict; and social status mobility. Park himself (1928) specified the following: human migration and resettlement, and classically the Diaspora; revolution; racial-cum-cultural change; and processes attendant to international and world economics. He later (1937) alluded to the historic development of cities and the process of civilization. Stonequist (1937) introduced additional features of the concept: religious and class conflict; and science vs. theology. Park, Stonequist and various writers during a period covering some 50 years or so have mentioned or alluded to still other situations associated with the Marginal Man: colonialism and/or imperialism (Ferrante, 1995; Park, 1937); culture contact, including both when (Locke & Stern, 1946); and where (Hughes & Hughes, 1952) people meet and mingle; social mobility and status (Hughes & Hughes, 1952; Krech & Crutchfield, 1948; Stonequist, 1937); and as in Merton (1973/1993), when changes in “Status sets” occur (relatedly see also Feagin, 1989); and especially acculturation and assimilation (Park, 1928), which when racial, may involve intermarriage and miscegenation, producing the mulatto and the idea of racial “passing” (Hughes, 1958, 1994; Locke & Stern, 1946; Myrdal, 1944). The Marginal Man personality, Stonequist (1937) wrote, is most clearly portrayed in individuals who live in “two or more historic traditions, languages, political loyalties, moral codes, or religions.” Appearing as the American mulatto, the Asiatic mixed blood or the European Jew, he lives in two cultural worlds in each of which he is a stranger (Coser, 1977/1971). Specifically, he is intimately associated with both, but is at ease and at home in neither. And when these two cultural worlds are hostile to each other, he is in his psyche and in his personality, palpable evidence of culture conflict. He is on the margin of two cultures. On the other hand, he is, as Park writes, “the individual with the wider horizon, the keener intelligence, the more detached and rational viewpoint” (Park, 1937,
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pp. xvii, xviii). He is, then, a personality type who has received a special type of acculturation in several rival groups between which there is a high level of culture conflict. While Park was the first to show the relevance of the Marginal Man concept to sociological analysis, this paper suggests the following: (1) That the Marginal Man, defined by Park, is the product of historical events and social conditions that result in a number of personality problems; (2) That before Park introduced the concept in 1928 in his insightful paper, “Human Migrations and the Marginal Man,” scientific explorations in the area of human behavior had already produced insights, ideas, and techniques which served as materials out of which the concept developed; (3) That before Georg Simmel, Park and Stonequist provided a scientific framework for the problems related in the Marginal Man concept, the idea of marginality had already been examined in serious, philosophical and popular literature; and (4) Finally, that developments in sociology, and Park’s role in them and his personal experiences, were important elements in the formulation of the concept; that Park was himself a marginal man.
ANTECEDENT HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENTS Historical epochs cannot totally explain or be accountable for the development of science, concept or doctrine. Still, we could not conceive of Newton without the advance in technology, mathematics and physics that preceded him. It is within this context and indirect connection that we analyze the relationship between the rise of commerce and its social effects in the Middle Ages. This relationship has a bearing on the very origin of the Marginal Man. A case can be made, therefore, that the contact of diverse peoples in great numbers and the global spread of commerce precipitated this worldwide contact of peoples which resulted in the formation of a new personality type (Braudel, 1985; Dobb, 1947; Geremek, 1977). Following the revival of commerce in Western Europe after 1100 A.D., the gradual growth of trade was followed by the trader and the trading community (Dobb, 1950; Ferrante, 1995; Park, 1928, 1937). There was a concomitant shift from the manorial economy, characteristic of the feudal order, to international exchange and trade (House, 1936, p. 4). Aiding this growth of trade was the attraction of exotic wares and the possibilities of a surplus market (Braudel, 1986). Great fleets were dispatched to the East and West from Venice and Genoa in the thirteenth century. These forces precipitated the rise of urban civilization – first primarily commercial and later more and more industrial. In the middle of the process of growth and urbanization of populations and the changes in social
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classes, littoral, border personalities developed. The Crusades had similar impacts and similar results. One of the greatest consequences of the spirit of trade was that it helped provide motivation for the great explorations (see Ferrante, 1995, pp. 21, 22). These later in turn followed more directly upon the heels of nationalism in Europe. The national monarchies, anxious to enrich themselves and their countries with the fruits of trade, fostered the exploratory sea journeys: Magellan, Columbus, De Gamma, and others, gaining knowledge of remote parts of the world and assisting in the world-wide colonization process. By the early part of the nineteenth century nationalism had taken firm roots; this is seen especially in the colonial and imperial policies of European conquest and trade (Braudel, 1986; Frieden, 1994; Marcuse, 1972; Miliband, 1969). This was not unusual since historically, the state, based on conquest, sought to extend its control over greater territory and more peoples (Braudel, 1986; Ferrante, 1995; Park, 1937). Likewise, European nations had long been trading globally: Dutch, British, Spanish and other national ships, discovering ever new islands, like the Fijian and Hawaiian. European traders, vagabonds and others were brought into contact with island natives: “marrying,” or taking concubinage with native women; some allying with local native chiefs and gaining little “spheres” of economic control. Many produced in their contact with natives, special types of personality problems. The acceleration of industrial development after 1870 and the improvements in transportation and communication, was accompanied by a revival of interest in colonial expansion, evolving into economic imperialism (Dobb, 1950; Frieden, 1994). This economic – and therefore also political – interest in-so-called “backward” societies meant that large numbers of Europeans migrated to these countries. One of the consequences of this expansion was “the appearance, in the wake of every European invasion, of a mixed blood population,” (Park, 1937) due in part to the intermarriage and non-marital sex relations of Europeans with native populations, and due also in part to a presence of non-European races imported into the colonies to do the rough work on plantations for which the local natives were deemed unfit (Firth, 1970; Maude, 1981; Sahlins, 1958; Sowell, 1994). Take the example of Fiji. Before the nineteenth century the only inhabitants were Fijians (Melanesians already modified by contact with the Tongans and Samoans of Polynesia) (Miller, 1940). Beginning about 1880 Indians were imported as laborers to work the plantations of the Colonial Sugar Company and elsewhere. From 1881 to 1911 – 30 years – the number of Indians increased from 588 to 40,286. (As of early 1988, the island’s population was 44% native Fijian, 50% Indians, fueling a Fijian military coup) (Scott, 1988; see also Sowell, 1994). Europeans
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increased from 2,671 to 3,707. “Half-castes” more than tripled, from 771 to 2,410 (Miller, 1940). The half-castes were members neither of their own villages nor of the “white invader’s” group (Miller, 1940). They were physically, socially and culturally marginal. Hybrid people produced in such societies, wrote Park (1937) “ordinarily occupied a status somewhat below that of the colonizing European, but above that of the ‘pure blood’ native, particularly if the hybrids were the product of the interbreeding of stocks so physically divergent that the resulting mixed person could readily be distinguished from both parents.” In such a situation the halfcaste tended to conform to the personality of the “marginal man.” “That is to say,” wrote Park, “one who is predestined to live in two cultures and two worlds.” Park explained that marginal types characteristically are able “to look with a certain degree of critical detachment upon the diverse worlds of their parents. At the same time they are likely to feel themselves not quite at home in either” (Park, 1937). Not only, then, were border personalities being formed in the newly rising urban centers of Europe; and not only was the European affected both at home and abroad by urbanization and migration; but also peoples of simple societies were being affected similarly and the developing marginal personalties, at first an incidental problem, became a pronounced one; a problem felt by those directly affected and observed by missionaries and others. In the eighteenth, nineteenth, and early twentieth centuries the migration of people from Europe to America for political, religious and economic reasons, entailed the uprooting of old cultural lives and the task of making adjustments to a new environment and a strange culture (Park, 1928; see also Ferrante, 1995). And the capitalist industrial development in the United States was accompanied by problems of adjustment of people migrating from rural to urban communities (Halberstam, 1986). This process produced many unsettled, limbiferous mentalities or marginal personalities.
ANTECEDENT DEVELOPMENTS IN SCIENCE The role of science was not consistent in different eras or different countries during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. For example, it was rather insignificant as an intellectual force in eighteenth century England (Durant & Durant, 1967). This was so because the Royal Society of London and the British Parliament were more interested in applied research for industrial development than in scientific theory and ideas. On the other hand, in early eighteenth century France, in the age of Napoleon, science blossomed because “the French excelled in pure science (making) France
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the most intellectual of nations” (Durant & Durant, 1975, p. 322). Celebrated by such work as that of Joseph-Louis Gay-Lussac’s experiments in terrestrial magnetism, it also was the period when philosophy was in the gradual process of becoming science – a vision embedded in the “positive philosophy” of Comte (in 1830). Philosophy was considered ‘science’ when it applied “to mind and consciousness, (and science’s) methods of specific hypotheses and careful observation” (Durant & Durant, 1975, pp. 142, 330). Overall, however, later developments in the natural sciences left an intellectual heritage for social scientists of the early twentieth century, including Park and his academic compatriots. The method of induction as developed in the physical sciences (as well as in philosophy), for example, was viewed as a model and a guide to modern social investigation and analysis. The analysis of universal trade and conquest presented above was designed to illustrate the process by which the inductive procedure could assist in discovering examples of the Marginal Man. Also necessary to the Marginal Man concept, of course, were the elements of abstraction and generalization from the concrete and the particular as explained in the philosophy of science (Reichenbach, 1962, pp. 5, 6) and Weber’s (1949) discussion of ideal types. Before Darwin’s Origin of the Species, Lamarck cautions us against the overuse of abstractions which might tend to replace real humans: “Species . . . is a concept, an abstract idea; in reality there are only individual beings, or things; and the classes, kinds, or species into which we group them are merely . . . intellectual tools for thinking of similar objects which are, however, incorrigibly unique” (Durant & Durant, 1975, p. 328). The use of these elements is illustrated by Stonequist in his appraisal of the theoretical utility and sociological significance of the Marginal Man concept. Stonequist refers to such previously existing terms as “Eurasian,” “Anglo-Indian,” “cape coloured,” “Europeanized African,” declasse, “half-caste,” “deracine,” “metis,” “parvenu,” “denationalized,” and he writes: By bringing such scattered terms under one embracing concept – the marginal man – comparison and analysis are furthered. Elements common to all may be abstracted, and the major outlines of the situation and personality defined (Stonequist, 1937, p. 211).
DEVELOPMENTS IN SOCIAL THEORY, SOCIAL SCIENCE RESEARCH, LITERATURE The Marginal Man, as outlined by Park and Stonequist, can be subsumed under the rubric of “culture,” and is tied to the evolution of the latter. In short, the conception of a marginal man is indebted to all those scholars – Montesquieu,
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Comte, Ferguson, Lippert, Muller-Lyer, Boas, Bachofen and others – who helped to formulate, develop and refine the idea of culture, and the field of cultural anthropology (see House, 1936, pp. 259–272). On the opening page of Park’s “marginal man” paper (1928, p. 881) he writes, “It is in the mind of the marginal man that conflicting cultures meet and fuse . . .” Basically, he concluded, “. . . the marginal man is a study, not merely of personality, but of culture conflict” (Madge, 1962, pp. 523, 524; Park, 1937). In addition to the usefulness provided by the culture concept, the studies of “social types,” provided a frame of reference for the Marginal Man, and both of these – the concepts of culture and social types – were developed before 1921. Later, Louis Wirth, Park’s student, used “social types” as an analytical device in his book, The Ghetto (1928), and expounded on its utility in his teaching at the University of Chicago. In addition, studies by psychologists and others led to the development of general theories of personality; while still other thinkers provided insights on the subjects of personality and personality conflicts. Park wrote in his concluding sentence (1928, p. 881), “It is in the mind of the marginal man that the processes of civilization may best be studied.” In other words, the mind or the personality is a very appropriate focus for studying processes of the larger society within which and under whose influence the personality is formed. This idea of understanding the larger unit through one of its component parts had been promoted in Germany by the tradition of Hegel and Ranke and later was developed by the nominalist, Max Weber (Gerth & Mills, 1946, pp. 55–59). In perhaps Weber’s most notable study, for example, capitalism was viewed as an institutional reflection – or institutional manifestation – of the Protestant ethic (Also, the nominalism of Weber, Sombart and others was shown in their interactionist position in their use of the term verstehen, viz., “interpretative understanding or using one’s own experience to grasp a social phenomenon” (Goode, 1988, p. 24; House, 1936, p. 394)). The nominalist tradition attempted to interpret the individual person – or institution, act or style of work – by seeing it as “a ‘document,’ ‘manifestation’ or as an ‘expression’ of a larger morphological unit that underlies particular data” (Field, 1980; Gerth & Mills, 1946; House, 1936; Veatch, 1954; relatedly see also Barnes, 1937; Coser, 1971; Eberle, 1970; Gerth & Mills, 1954; Gosselin, 1990; Lipset & Lowenthal, 1961; Sorokin, 1928). For others such as Cooley, the “larger” social unit could be as small and immediate as the primary group (see for example, Charon, 1995, p. 191). “This mode of ‘understanding’ the particular by seeing it as a document of an underlying whole,” it was argued, “is rooted in German romantic and conservative thought . . .” (Gerth & Mills, 1946, p. 56). In his book, Du Role de Determinism Social (The Socially Determined Role of the Individual – or – The Individual’s Socially Determined Role), Draghicesco of France in 1906
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provided corroborations of the nominalist hypothesis (Sorokin, 1928, 121ff). He maintained that “The . . . psychical processes owe their existence to, and are but the psychological reflections of, the corresponding social processes” (Sorokin, 1928, p. 123). (Historically, this hypothesis, in philosophy, far antedates this tradition in German thought: in classical Greece, Aristotle, countering Plato’s reality-onlyin-universals argument, asserted that “universals are only convenient intellectual concepts . . . (for) reality resides only in the observed and the concrete – in individual examples of things or particulars, (significant) chiefly as representations of the general class or type to which they belong” (Barnes, 1937, p. 142; Boorstin, 1983/1985, p. 394). Following the ideas of De Roberty (also of France), Draghicesco indicated that the “individual soul” is but a microscopic reflection of the social world. About the same time, contemporaries Georg Simmel and Emile Durkheim in their works, and in their own way, developed a series of theories which led to the same conclusion; namely, that “the social processes of differentiation and integration are correlated with the psychological processes of discrimination and synthesis; that the human mind, in short, is but a reflection of a social world and its characteristics” (see Sorokin, 1928, p. 123; and relatedly Madge, 1962, p. 523). Over time this kind of social analysis took different, modulated forms: “the link between character and society” (Parsons & Whitle, 1961); character vs. personality and identity (Giddens, 1991); and self, individual and community (Crowley, 1987). But today closer to the positions of Draghicesco, Cooley, and others, with quite different aims, is the “communitarian” literature illustrated by authors such as Derek Phillips; Stephen Hall and Adam Swift; and Shlomo Avenari and Avener de Shalit (see Etzioni, 1994). Research on human nature before the emergence of the Marginal Man had indeed leaned heavily toward the study of personality. Scientific inquiry into the problems of personality, Park himself (1921) noted, was stimulated greatly by observations of abnormal behavior such as hysteria and loss of memory, where the cause was not organic, and, therefore presumably psychic. A school of French psychiatrists and psychologists represented by Charcot, Janet, and Ribot had made worthy contributions to an understanding of the maladies of personality (Garraty & Gay, 1981/1987, pp. 954, 961; The Hutchinson Encyclopedia, 1995, p. 520). The work of Freud, Jung, Breuer, Adler, and others in psychiatry had thrown a great deal of light upon the role of mental conflict, repression, and “the wishes,” in the growth of personality (see House, 1936). Cooley (1902) already had made allusions similar to those that Draghicesco, Simmel and Durkheim made later in 1906, through Cooley’s formulation of the “looking-glass” self: the personality is the person’s conception of himself or herself in terms of others’ attitudes toward him or her (Charon, 1995, p. 133). In this way
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the personality was seen as the reflection of the individual’s objective role in a larger group (Cooley, 1902, pp. 152, 153), as cited by Stonequist (1937, p. 142 et passim). In developing their theories of the nature of the “individual soul” De Roberty, Durkheim (especially in Le Suicide and Representative Individuelles) and Simmel, all touched on what later would become the core essence of the Marginal Man. They maintained not only that the “individual soul” is just a microscopic reflection of the social world, but also that “if an individual is a member of antagonistic groups, his psychology will be full of conflicts and contradictions; if he is affiliated only with solidary groups his ‘soul’ will be ‘solidary’ also” (Sorokin, 1928, p. 446). Even more pertinent, in the study of intergroup conflict as manifested in the aberrant individual, George E. Vincent in his essay, “The Rivalry of Social Groups,” wrote poignantly, as quoted by Park in his (and Burgess’) famous textbook: The theory of group rivalry throws light upon the individual. The person has as many selves as there are groups to which he belongs. He is simple or complex as his groups are few and harmonious or many and conflicting . . . The conflicts of conscience are group conflicts (Park & Burgess, 1921, p. 609).
A similar idea had been developed in a different context by William James in “The Divided Self and Moral Consciousness,” in his The Varieties of Religious Experiences in 1907, some three years earlier. Both Park and Stonequist referred to James’ works, including James’ published course, the book, Psychology, published in 1920 (Lewis, 1993; Park & Burgess, 1921; West, 1995). Prior to Park’s “marginal man” paper in 1928, then, there was an accumulation of materials, from social thought and by investigations on the part of psychologists, sociologists, and others, to provide insight, interest, stimulation, guides, and fertile, relevant grounding for the kind of marginality deciphered in the studies undertaken by Park and Stonequist. Further contributions to the eventual development of the Marginal Man concept were made by N. S. Shaler and Edward Byron Reuter, clearly acknowledged by Park and Miller (1921), long before he published “The Marginal Man.” In his book, The Neighbor: The Natural History of Human Contrasts, Shaler (1904) examined the problems of the African as the African was affected by the counter stresses of his own native culture and that of the European colonizer’s, a problem detailed subsequently by others (see, for example, DeMarco, 1943). Later, dealing with the problem of the racial hybrid during World War I, Reuter (1918) published a volume based on a study of racial hybrids: The Mulatto in the United States. In it, he described reactions characteristic of this “in-between social type,” and pointed out that “where a color line has been drawn against them by the superior group in
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the population, they everywhere have tended to form an intermediate caste in the population” (1918, pp. 367–377). This landmark book, appearing a full decade before Park’s “marginal man” paper, was one of several books and articles that Reuter published over a 23 year period (1918–1941) dealing with race and race mixture. In addition to these theoretical developments, the “life history” gradually emerged as a methodological tool. It was a staple instrument of Chicago social science. And it was put to use often by Park who had made a race relations survey in which he laid great stress on the utility of life histories (Park, 1924). Park’s Marginal Man concept and Stonequist’s dissertation on the subject are based largely on the content of the life history, since apparently that was the way to get into the “mind of the marginal man” (Stonequist, 1937). Park’s appreciation and use of this technique were neither incidental nor an historical accident. Developed in time for Park’s and Stonequist’s use, the life history appears to have had a curious developmental history of its own, which in turn provided an indirect contribution to the Marginal Man. It had been found earlier, as Park himself reported, that autobiography and biography provided valuable source material both for the study of the subjective life and the individual’s objective social role. Three great autobiographies, cited by Park and Miller (1921, p. 147), which inspired the writing of personal narratives, “are themselves representative of the different types: Caesar’s Commentaries, giving his detached, impersonal description of his great exploits; the Confessions of St. Augustine, displaying his intimate self-analysis and intense self-reproach, and the lesser known De Vita Propria Liber by Cardan.” Cardan’s “scientific selfexamination” effort is remindful of Kierkegaard’s admonitional tract, For Self Examination (1851/1990). Later, considerable attention was given by scholars to the steady accumulation of autobiographical and biographical materials, which were interpreted from the point of view of psychiatry and psychoanalysis. “The study of Der Fall Otto Weininger by Dr. Ferdinand Probst,” Park and Miller (1921, p. 147) wrote, “is a representative monograph of this type.” The value found in the use of the personal history as an instrument of investigation into the subjective aspect of personality problems is suggested by a number of documents with which Park and Miller (1921) was familiar: Count Leo Tolstoy, My Confession (1887); Booker T. Washington, Up from Slavery (1901); Helen Keller, The Story of My Life (1903); W. E. B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk (1903); Oscar Widle, De Profundis (1905); James Weldon Johnson, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man (1912); and B. F. Cummings, The Journal of Disappointed Men (1919).1 Park regarded “Life Record of an Immigrant” in the third volume of Thomas and Znaniecki’s classic The Polish Peasant in Europe and America (1927) as a premier instance of the sociological use of this device.2
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In the meantime, the problem of status dilemma incident to colonization, slavery, migrations of freed slaves, etc. had long been recognized and addressed in American literature, and relevant views were expressed in literary terms, often by writers who personally were involved and/or directly concerned. Park found great interest in such writings. In this literature may be found many arrows pointing to a perception of the marginal personality. The best example of this is contained in two writings of W. E. B. DuBois, who produced both academic and non-academic work (Partington, n.d.; Wolff, 1959). In “Religion in the South” (1928) he discussed the freed man as the confused person who was torn between glowing promises and the realities of actual treatment. Earlier in his book, The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois in 1903 commented on the subjective aspects of this status confusion: “It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others” (Park & Miller, 1921). He also referred to it as a “two-ness” feeling, like “an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two . . . strivings, two warring ideals in one dark body” (Stonequist, 1937, p. 145). Thirty-eight years later a similar type of “two-ness” would be identified as “selfdivision,” a characteristic of the “Outsider” (Wilson, 1956, p. 14). In addition to Park and Miller (1921) and Stonequist (1937) this “doubleconsciousness” and related aspects of DuBois’ The Souls of Black Folk was of interest to a host of subsequent scholars, including four during the ensuing 51 years: Myrdal (1944), Locke and Stern (1946), Lewis (1993) and West (1995). Interestingly, there is evidence that Park and Dubois had some teachers in common at Harvard, especially William James, whose discussions of the “epiphenominal nature of mind,” “alternating selves,” and “primary and secondary selves” (Lewis, 1993, p. 96) and his famous lecture, “The Divided Self and Moral Consciousness” (Park & Miller, 1921) apparently were attended by both.
PARK AND DEVELOPMENTS IN SOCIOLOGY Two considerations link Robert Park himself to the formulation, theme and content of the Marginal Man concept: (1) immigration and urbanization studies as dominant climates of American sociology along with Park’s role as a champion of the use of concepts in social research; and (2) Park’s own career and life experiences. Studies of the American Indian were a large feature of the work of American ethnologists after World War I. Somewhat similar, both before and after that war, American sociologists’ analysis of the immigrants’ problems of adjustment and assimilation was the prominent line of investigation in a rash of “Americanization” studies. (Hughes, 1949). Carpenter, Fairchild, Sutherland, Miller, Bogardus, and
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Thomas and Znaniecki were among the authors of a preponderant literature stretching from 1915 to 1928. They included Park. His co-authored book (with Miller, 1921b), Old World Traits Transplanted, his landmark paper, “Human Migration and the Marginal Man” and related work, reflected his abiding interest in the immigrant, the immigrant press, and migration (Park, 1952). It will be recalled, he felt in fact that migrations and related cultural transplantation were among the primary modern situations in which social marginality occurs. Park also was familiar with urbanization, an acknowledged social source of marginality. Even in the 1980s, urbanization was deemed very important in the study of social marginality (Sibley, 1981). Two notable landmark studies of the ecology and sociology of modern urban life were Park’s “Modern Society” (1942) and his jointly-authored book, The City (Park, Burgess & McKenzie, 1925). In the former he discussed social complexity in modern communities as an effect of territorial expansion of populations incident to the spread of the world economy. Meanwhile, by the early 1930s American sociology already showed a rapidlygrowing favoring for research activity. This was accompanied by a widespread conception of “research” as something that depreciates theoretic, qualitative work (House, 1936). Increasingly in the United States, moreover, sociology began to develop as a research specialty (House, 1936). Interestingly, the Chicago School, the nation’s preeminent sociology department under Park’s leadership, contributed greatly to this emphasis (Madge, 1962). Overemphasis of research – especially empirical research – was roundly criticized in the 1950s (Mills, 1959), cautioned against in the 1960s (Merton, 1968; Mitchell, 1968), and in the 1970s (Gouldner, 1970); and more recently it has been confronted by still others in the 1990s (Anderson, 1992; Barzun, 1991). Long before these complaints, however, several American sociologists in the 1930s sought to bring some balance to the sociological enterprise in this respect. Earle E. Eubank of Cincinnati, Floyd N. House of Virginia, and Herbert Blumer and Park of Chicago were leading advocates of “the idea that concrete sociological research may be largely futile and even harmful when it is not guided by carefully conceived notions about the things to be studied” (House, 1936, p. 424). They pointed out the methodological importance of concepts to the science of sociology (House, 1956, pp. 385, 424). The Marginal Man is one among the array of concepts included in Park’s acknowledged contributions to sociology (see Burgess, 1945).
LIFE AND WORKS OF PARK There is a vital line connecting Simmel, Park, and Stonequist. In his book, Soziologie in 1908, Simmel formulated the concept of the “stranger,” giving it
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sociological significance: “In the whole history of economics the stranger makes his appearance everywhere as the trader, the trader his as the stranger” (Park & Burgess, 1921). To Simmel, Park (1928), Stonequist (1937), Coser (1977), Lewin (1948) and others, the quintessential “Stranger” (and/or “Marginal Man”) is the emancipated European Jew, but also other Jews and other minorities, especially the mixed blood; the immigrant (especially the second generation); and the trader, especially one in international commerce. The key illustrative stranger/marginal figures mentioned (all initially by Park) have been George Santayana, Ludwig Lewisohn and Heinrich Heine. Some of the marks of the stranger are: mobility, objectivity, confidante, freedom from convention, and abstract relations (Park & Burgess, 1921). The stranger is not an essential part of any group, yet he or she is functionally close to many groups. He or she is a floater between groups. Simmel was a representative of his own concept. He was a “stranger” in the German academy, an object of antisemitism, a target for resentment about his unconventional academic style and he suffered from a consuming bias against sociology by his colleagues (Levine, 1971/1993). Unlike Durkheim, Simmel was a loner, with respect to potential references, peers and mentors. And most cruelly, he “spent nearly all of his career writing and lecturing at the University of Berlin without the benefit of a regular faculty appointment” (Levine, 1971/1993, p. x). While in Germany Park was closely associated with Simmel; in time they became good friends. Beginning in 1921, Park introduced Simmel’s “stranger” concept to a generation of American students at the University of Chicago, in his (and Burgess’) famous introductory sociology textbook. One of those students was Everett Stonequist who in the late twenties learned of the Marginal Man concept in one of Park’s classes and linked it to related studies of his own (Stonequist, 1937, p. vii). Stonequist received advice from Park on ways to validate this hypothesis (Park himself, often failed to follow up on leading ideas he himself initiated). Whereupon Stonequist set out to work on the project which ultimately resulted in the publication of his dissertation, as The Marginal Man, in 1937 – nine years after the publication of Park’s “marginal man” article. Park himself, in a very real sense, was a marginal man; his life bespeaks it. He never became an integral part of any group, by comparison to most of those around him. From his student days to his death in 1944, unlike the sedentary Giddings at Columbia, he always was on the go, seldom remaining in any one place or with any particular group for very long, and even so, without continuity. He kept inordinately busy with surveys, teaching, lecturing, traveling – in the U.S. and around the globe. “The Stranger” concept was appropriate to many aspects of Park’s life: he was like an alien, working and studying among various kinds of people in different parts of the United States, or in foreign societies or foreign cultures.
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Nothing conveys this “marginal man” and “stranger” impression of his experience so well as a brief synopsis of Park’s life (Abercrombie, Hill & Turner, 1988; Coser, 1977; House, 1950; Hughes, 1949, 1964; Kuper & Kuper, 1989; Levine, 1971/1993; Lyman, 1992; Madge, 1962; Mitchell, 1968; Park, 1950; Shils, 1991). Born in Luzerne County, Pennsylvania in 1864, he grew up in Red Wing, Minnesota, received his Ph.B. at the University of Michigan in 1887, his M.A. at Harvard in 1899, and his Ph.D. at Heidelberg in 1904. He later earned the Doctor of Humane Literature from the University of Michigan. He was a newspaper reporter for several years until 1914 or 1915. Shortly before getting his Ph.D., he studied and traveled in Europe from 1899 to 1903. It was during this time that he came into close association with Simmel and learned of the latter’s conception of “the stranger.” This association in one sense was part of a general pattern of influence at the time that German sociologists exerted on American sociologists (Coser, 1977, pp. 374, 375; House, 1936, pp. 377, 392; Kasler, 1985) and specifically of the influence Simmel had on Park, Burgess, Shaler, Ross and others, through the ideas of the Formal Sociologistic School, founded by Tonnies and Simmel (Coser, 1977; House, 1936; Sorokin, 1928; Weinstein & Weinstein, 1989). From 1904 to 1905 Park was Assistant in Philosophy at Harvard. Most of the time from 1905 to 1914 he spent doing educational work among blacks and spent time as a muckraker. From 1914, to his death in 1944, Park worked in the academy and was in turn: a lecturer in sociology at Chicago until about 1923; a professor in the University of Chicago from 1923 to 1936; and a visiting professor in Fisk University from about 1936 to the time of his death. Remindful of Simmel, Park during his 22 years at Chicago, despite his contributions, spent nine years in the lowly status of “professorial lecturer” for a fixed nominal salary, under the dominant “spiritus rector,” Chairman Albion Small (Coser, 1977). He was 59 years old before being appointed full professor. In these respects Park (Coser, 1977) and Simmel (Wolff, 1950/1964), can be said to be tragic figures, though Simmel was a member of a minority group and Park was not. With reference to Park’s work at Fisk, which was then an all-black school, Cayton and Drake once wrote, significant to this discussion of Park’s insights and marginality: . . . on the other hand, any white person – including the lightest blond – can, if he wishes, pass for colored. Dr. Robert Park, the eminent sociologist, on two occasions passed for a Negro in order to obtain a room in a Negro hotel (Drake & Cayton, 1945, p. 164).
During his Chicago period, Park traveled and lectured in the Orient in 1929 and 1930; was a research professor of sociology in the University of Hawaii in 1931 and 1932. In the fall of 1932 he lectured at the Yenching University in China (Fei & Chih-I Chang, 1945). He was a delegate to the fourth Pacific Science Congress in
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Java, 1929; a University of Chicago delegate, 1927–1931, to the Institute of Pacific Relations, under whose cooperation his Earthbound China study was carried out. As already mentioned, he was director of the Race Relations Survey of the Pacific Coast from 1923 to 1925. He traveled and studied race relations problems in India, Africa, and Brazil in 1933. In what became his famous memorandum, published posthumously, he said he suspected that he had tramped through the streets of more cities in the world than anyone (Park, 1950). Park’s life, then, was an orientation to the essential nature of the Marginal Man concept, a concept he fashioned in a sense, in light of the historical events and social phenomena antecedent to his work, and from the efforts of philosophers, writers, scientists, and social scientists who went before him. Historically and sociologically considered, this pattern, like the overall pattern presented in this paper, illustrates the cresive, cooperative nature of the emergence, development, establishment and use of theories and concepts.
POSTSCRIPT The Marginal Man has its manifestation apparently as a psychological consequence, in the form of the tug and pull of a marginal personality. In final analysis, however, it is a social psychological problem of role conflict, rooted in the sociological reality of intergroup relations. According to House (1936), its better seen as a phenomenon of psychological sociology. That is, it occurs in the process of social differentiation, contrast and conflict of contending, hostile, competing social groups. These groups may be egalitarian; more often they have dominant-subordinate relations. Differences in race, nationality, ethnicity, political orientation, sex identification, or geographic/spatial or social status location, may be the apparent, most visible factors operating (Browne, 1977). In the end, however, ideology, perceptions, attitudes and values, informing and vitiating social relations and intergroup behavior, and active in social interaction, are the real factors that account for the marginalization of social groups and personalities. The social definition of competing, conflicting or alienated groups – and thus of their individual members – appears to be the critical element in the social production of the Marginal Man. The term “Social definition” as used here, includes legal and political determinations. In this sense, a clear significance of social definition in these matters, has been the varying legal definitions of African Americans, by different states in the U.S. in the 1930s and 1940s (Myrdal, 1944, 113ff). A parallel example are the politico-legal definitions in the 1980s of Cuban refugees, either as “excludables,” and/or “deportables” or “illegal aliens” under constitutional interpretations (Carelli, 1987).
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In the career of the Marginal Man concept these sociological considerations seem clearer today than in the past. This rescues the concept’s relevance from being restricted to events and problems of the past, such as those of Park’s and Stonequist’s times. The concept has developed over the years – through news, historical accounts, literature and social science – by increments and adaptations. In these ways it has embraced newer and still newer events and social problems, suggested today by situations of: the urban homeless; Appalachian whites; illegal aliens from Mexico, Cuba and Jamaica; so-called “temporary” workers or “guest workers” from southern and eastern Europe working in northern and western European countries; American Indians on reservations and in big cities; the elderly, especially the active retirees; and women as the “new” workers in the work force, straddling the line between the ideologies and cultures of the workplace and the domicile. Further, our subject concept still is appropriate because the newer events and problems bespeak essentially the same kind of social phenomena and social and psychological manifestations and consequences discussed in this paper. Thus the Marginal Man still is a useful, heuristic device for analyzing and understanding modern and contemporary social problems and processes. And as the social conditions which tend to create marginal situations continue to develop in the changes, fusings and mixtures occurring in an increasingly global society (Geremek, 1980; Giddens, 1991) the Marginal Man concept may continue to be pertinent to social investigation and research.
NOTES 1. Auxilliary sources: Benet’s Reader’s Encyclopedia (3rd ed.) New York: Harper & Row 1987 (Keller); Alfred Lindesmith and Anselm Strauss. Social Psychology (rev. ed., 2nd printing) New York: Dryden Press 1957 (Thomas & Znaniecki); and Ian Ousby (Ed.) The Cambridge Guide to Literature in English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1991 (Cummings, Johnson, Washington, Wilde). 2. Robert E. Park and Ernest W. Burgess. Introduction to the Science of Sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press 1921 (Tolstoy).
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PART III: YOUTH AND MARGINALITY
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EXCLUSION, CIVIC INVISIBILITY AND MARGINALITY: THE MURDERS OF STREET YOUTH IN BRAZIL Martha K. Huggins INTRODUCTION On July 9, 1991, sixteen-year-old Jefferson C. was shot to death in the entryway to his family home in a poor district on the periphery of Brazil’s sprawling S˜ao Paulo City. Jefferson, like many other murdered youth in Brazil, did not know his father; he lived with his younger siblings and mother, a washerwoman, in a one-room cardboard-stucco-and-wood-structure; he dreamed of earning enough money to add a room where he could entertain his friends. But Jefferson’s dream was an illusion: His earnings had always been well below the subsistence level. Jefferson had begun working when he was seven, mostly in the informal sector, where he pieced together a meager income gathering scrap metal and cardboard, selling fruit, washing windows, and helping out a fishmonger and a stone mason. Jefferson had been looking for a “regular job” – one covered by minimum wage and social security legislation. But his search had been in vain, for, as his mother explained, “employers don’t hire draft-age boys” (Arruda, 1991, p. 21). Jefferson’s story puts a human face on Brazil’s youthful murder victims, the majority of whom are poor black or dark-brown males between 15 and 17 years old. These are the youth most likely to die at the hands of a stranger. Girls of all ages are relatively less likely to be murdered by strangers, being most often killed
Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 71–92 Copyright © 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12005-9
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by a family member or close associate of her family. This study focuses on youth murdered by strangers in Brazil.
EXCLUSION AND MURDER: A THESIS As a sociological analysis, this study focuses on victim-generating sociostructural situations and the social creation of victims. Rather than concentrating on individuals’ predispositions or overt motives for murdering Brazilian youth, or the victims’ specific alleged misbehaviors and threats, or on some generalized “culture of violence,” we identify the conditions that transform particular kinds of Brazilian youth into “social problems” and “symbolic assailants.” It is this study’s thesis that modern Brazilian social structures powerfully shape poor Brazilian youths’ vulnerability to being murdered by strangers. Such youth come from the segments of Brazilian society most marginalized socially, economically, and politically. They thus become civicly and politically nonpersons rendering them virtually powerless as political and social outcasts within the legitimate system. It is my thesis that when such civic invisibility is combined with high social visibility as symbolic assailant, youth are especially vulnerable to murder. But what socio-cultural conditions foster this conjunction of civic invisibility and social visibility as symbolic assailant? Paradoxically, the same conditions that render poor youth insignificant and powerless in the civic arena contribute to their being socially visible and thus defined as dangerous to others. Poverty pushes poor youth onto the streets to secure their survival within a job situation in which they have no protectors. Yet among all poor youth who work on Brazilian streets, the bearers of multiple social stigma – those who are black, teenage, and male – are most powerless and most vulnerable to murder. Their stigma as dangerous outsiders is symbolized by their being labeled “street children” (meninos de rua or piretes) an image that dehumanizes them and reinforces their status as social threats deserving of violent control. I will return to this thesis after discussing the characteristics of victims and perpetrators.
STUDYING MURDERED YOUTH This study is based on the author’s extensive work on street children. The author’s three years of field research in shelters and outreach programs for “abandoned” street children in S˜ao Paulo and Recife – two of Brazil’s biggest cities – provided an opportunity for exploring the lives of poor Brazilian youth. The author has gathered primary and secondary data from human and children’s rights agencies
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and groups, from Brazilian newspaper reports, and from the published statistics of UNICEF Brazil. Examining these sources reveals great variation in statistics on youth homicides. For example, Rio de Janiero Military Police statistics indicate that no more than 196 youth were assassinated in 1991. The office of the Governor of Rio de Janeiro State maintains that 245 youth were murdered in 1991. The Brazilian National Street Children’s Movement’s (MNMMR) regional coordinator for Rio State declares that in 1991, 340 youth were murdered there (JB 11/23/91a, b: Cid.5). Difficulty in deciding which statistic is most reliable has been reduced by selecting the most unbiased of several sources, based on the authors’ knowledge of bias within each data source. Clearly, official statistics carry no guarantee of statistical reliability or validity. Indeed, Brazil’s statistics on youth murders are thought to underestimate by up to one-half the actual number of youth homicides in Brazil annually (Dimenstein, 1991; Mesquita, 1993; MNMMR, 1991). In the first place, most figures include only Brazil’s largest cities – S˜ao Paulo, Recife, Salvador da Bahia, and Rio de Janeiro – failing to include youth murders in other Brazilian cities and in rural areas. Second, even statistics for the most populous urban areas do not include the bodies dumped in well-hidden graves, and they fail to count the murders recorded as “traffic accidents” or “suicides.” Third, the families of murdered children often fail to report these murders, fearing perpetrators’ retaliation (Dimenstein, 1991; Huggins, 1991a; MNMMR, 1991). Finally, where agents of the State are involved in youth murders, pressure is especially great to distort or undercount the killings. Yet in spite of such problems, researchers and human rights activists still know a great deal about youth homicides in Brazil, as will be evident. Because of the possible bias associated with any single data source, especially considering the involvement of on- and off-duty police in youth murders, the best research strategy was to triangulate data sources whenever possible – crosschecking each source against several others to find the mean between them. In this analysis, at least two data sources, and three whenever possible, were used for each statistical finding. Thus, while the data now available on youth murders in Brazil are far from perfect, they do provide a reliable profile of victims and their murderers; this provides a firm foundation for analyzing youth murders within a broader sociostructural context.
STATISTICS ON YOUTH MURDERS In S˜ao Paulo municipality between 1970 and 1990, reported murders of youth climbed 1,440% (Estado 5/5/92: Cid. 1), an increase greater than for adult
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homicides and outpacing S˜ao Paulo municipality’s overall population growth and growth in the size of the municipality’s 15- to 17-year-old population – the age group most likely to be murdered by strangers (Mesquita, 1993, p. 89). More recently, between 1988 and 1991, more than seven thousand poor children and adolescents were murdered in Brazil – the vast majority by strangers (CPI-Menor, SP, 1993; JB 12/6/91a, b, pp. 1–4). And instead of youth murders decreasing during Brazil’s transition from military rule to formal democracy (1985 to the present), there has been a steady increase in this violence during the political transition period. For example, for all of Brazil between 1985 and 1992, the number of children and adolescents officially recognized as murdered grew 101%, while adult murders increased by only 76% (Globo 11/2/93, p. 10). As for increases in absolute numbers in youth homicides, in 1988, in Rio de Janeiro, S˜ao Paulo, and Recife, one youth was killed on average every two days. The next year, four poor youth were murdered in these cities every day (MNMMR, 1991). Rio de Janeiro, in Brazil’s affluent Center-South region, had a 50% increase in these murders just between 1992 and 1993 (O Globo 11/2/93, p. 10). And Pernambuco state, in Brazil’s impoverished Northeast, had slightly over fifteen youth murders monthly during the first nine months of 1994 – 50% higher than the monthly average for the last six years (SEJUP 11/17/94).
SOCIOLOGICAL PROFILE OF MURDER VICTIMS The social image of murder victims is that they were poor, idle youth who were criminals and without family, thus dangerous to themselves and others. Indeed, there is evidence that some portion of street youth engages in petty theft, although not associated with violence to the degree communicated by stereotypes. As for youth crime in 1991, according to Brazil’s national news weekly VEJA (5/29/90a, pp. 32–35), just in S˜ao Paulo City’s Prac¸a da S´e, children committed over thirty-two thousand thefts and robberies annually – or up to three thefts per child daily. Now, clearly, deprivation and crime often go hand-in-hand: “The destitution, exclusion, and relative deprivation that [poor youth] face certainly suggests that they would experience levels of need, alienation, and anger [sufficient to explain] theft and violence” (Anonymous, 1994, p. 3). However, in three Brazilian cities, up to two-thirds of the murdered youth did not have police records (Mesquita, 1990, 1991, 1993; MNMMR, 1991). And in a more recent Rio de Janeiro study of 336 assassinated youth, 95% had no criminal record (SEJUP 11/24/94). This discrepancy between the image of murdered youth and the realities of their lives suggests the need to consider media and social stereotypes about murder victims in light of the data about murder victims.
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Income While precise economic information on Brazil’s murdered youth is not available, it is clear that the great majority of youth murdered by strangers are either very poor – totally dependent on their own meager substandard earnings – or are children of Brazil’s low-paid and often unemployed, working class. Clearly, poverty structures a young person’s vulnerability to murder by a stranger – especially when considered in combination with skin color and gender, as we shall demonstrate shortly (CPIMenor, 1992; Dimenstein, 1991; Mesquita, 1993, 1995; UNICEF, 1991).
Occupation Data from three Brazilian cities demonstrate that at the time of their murders, most of the young homicide victims were full-time, if badly paid workers (Mesquita, 1990, 1991, 1993; MNMMR, 1991). In Brazil’s biggest cities, many poor kids toil well in excess of forty hours a week (Campos, 1991; Fukui et al., 1985; Rimbaud, 1980; VEJA 12/19/90a, b, p. 33). And like the adults from whose families they come, the majority of working urban youth must survive in Brazil’s urban informal economic sector – the small-scale, unlicensed activities (many in ambulatory street sales) that pay no government taxes, lack social security and health protection, and do not receive the minimum wage, low as it is. In fact, Brazil’s informal sector employs about 60% of all urban workers (Greenfield & Prust, 1990; Kowarick, 1994).
Family Status Over a third of the murdered youth in three Brazilian cities lived with birth family or in some kin-based residence; many others visited frequently with kin, even though the stereotype is that they had lost all connections with birth family and other kin (Mesquita, 1990, 1991, 1993; MNMMR, 1991). We will return shortly to a discussion of family connections among poor youth.
Age Eighty percent of Brazil’s young murder victims are between fifteen and seventeen years old, a far greater proportion than this age group’s percentage of the Brazilian youth population (Brazil Network, 1992; CPI-Menor, 1992; Dimenstein, 1991; GAJOP, 1991a, b; Mesquita, 1993; SEJUP 11/17 and 24/1994; UNICEF, 1991,
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p. 111). In S˜ao Paulo State, for example, 15- to 17-year-olds constitute 16% of the population, yet here too they make up 80% of the known youthful murder victims (CPI-Menor, SP, 1993; Mesquita, 1993, p. 89).
Gender Youthful males as a whole are murdered by strangers in much greater numbers than their proportion in the Brazilian population. This general trend shows up in S˜ao Paulo State, where in 1989 one girl was killed for every six boys; in 1990–1991, one girl was murdered for every five boys (Mesquita, 1991, 1993), even though the gender distribution of S˜ao Paulo’s overall population is 50.4% male, 49.6% female (IBGE, 1992). At the same time, the younger the murder victim, the more likely they are to be female (Mesquita, 1993; MNMMR, 1991). For example, in 1991 in S˜ao Paulo State, among older adolescents almost 90% of the murder victims were male; females were most prevalent among the under ten murder victims, constituting slightly over half of these homicides (Mesquita, 1991; MNMMR, 1991, Table 1). On average, the proportion of all violent deaths that are homicides among boys remains about the same multiple of girls’ murder rate, although their respective increases are about at the same rate. For example, in 1989 in Brazil’s northeastern city of Salvador, homicides made up 19% of the violent deaths of young men; they rose in 1990 to 32% of these deaths; among young girls in Salvador, homicides were 8% of all violent deaths in 1989; they rose in 1990 to 13% (UNICEF, 1991, p. 111).
Color In Brazil, the vast majority of the youth who are murdered by strangers are dark-skinned. For example, data on youth murders between 1984 and 1989 Table 1. Gender of Murdered Youth in S˜ao Paulo State, 1990–1991 (in Percent). Gender
Under 10
11–14
15–17
Total
Female Male
53 47
32 68
10 38
21 89
Note: Where figures do not add up to 100%, the gender of the victim could not be determined or was not indicated. Source: Mesquita (1991, pp. 7, 10, 13).
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Table 2. Dark Population and Murdered Youth’s Color in Three Major Brazilian Cities (in Percent). City Rio de Janeiro Salvador S˜ao Paulo ∗ IBGE
Victims Dark
Population Dark*
56 87 50
39 68 25
(1992).
in sixteen Brazilian states indicate that 52% of the victims were “black” (i.e. listed as negros or pretos – the darkest among Brazil’s many-graded color rankings) (JB 4/8/90, p. I-18). Even taking into consideration the complicated classifications for skin color in Brazil, there is an emerging consensus among most Brazilian researchers and human rights workers that black youth are murdered in much greater proportions than their numbers in the Brazilian population (Brazil Network, 1992; Globo 11/2/93, p. 10; Huggins, 1991b; Mesquita, 1993; Penha-Lopes, 1994; SEJUP, 11/17&24/94; UNICEF, 1991, p. 111). For example, data from the city of Salvador da Bahia show that in 1990, 87% of that city’s young murder victims were dark-skinned; only 7% were white (See Table 2). Yet dark-skinned Brazilians make up only about 68% of the population of Salvador (IBGE, 1992; Mesquita, 1993; MNMMR, 1991). In Rio de Janeiro, 56% of the murder victims were dark-skinned, compared to 39% of the city’s population (IBGE, 1992; Globo 11/2/93, p. 10).
PERPETRATOR CHARACTERISTICS The youngest murder victims – more commonly girls – were most likely to have been killed by family or close family associates, not by strangers (GAJOP, 1991a, b; Mesquita, 1991). The older youth were most likely to have been killed by strangers, namely, the private “rent-a-cops” or off- or on-duty police, whether alone or as part of a “death squad,” or the “justice-makers” (justiceiros) (Folha 12/7/91, pp. 1–10; GAJOP, 1991a, b; JB 12/6/91a, b, p. I-4; Mesquita, 1991, 1995). Interestingly, these perpetrators are also very likely to have low incomes and live in the slums. As Table 3 indicates for S˜ao Paulo, in the majority of youth murders in Brazil, the perpetrator will never be officially identified (Mesquita, 1991, 1993). Using S˜ao Paulo State as an example, between September 1990 and August 1991, in 78% of the youth deaths the murderers were not known to the police; in such cases most researchers make the assumption that the perpetrator was a police-linked extermination group (Mesquita, 1993, 1995). Data suggest that in most Brazilian
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Table 3. Perpetrator of Youth Murder S˜ao Paulo State, 1990 (in Percent). Age Under
10 11–14 15–17
Perpetrator Family
Friend
Police
Priv. Sect.
Exterm. Group
Lone Assail.
Unknown Perpetrator
32 7 5
14 7 1
8 7 17
– 4 2
– – 9
– – 2
30 32 41
Note: “Others” accounts for percentages not totalling 100%. Source: Mesquita (1991, pp. 9, 12, 15).
cities reporting youth murders, young girls are much less likely than boys to be murdered by such a group; their chances of being victimized by an extermination group goes up when they are in close physical proximity to a male marked for murder (Dimenstein, 1991; GAJOP, 1991a, pp. 24, 25). One explanation for the lower probability of young girls’ death from an extermination group is that Brazilian male stereotypes about women “protect” some young women from murder. According to this thesis, a paternalistic ethos presumably insulates these young girls from assassination by male strangers (CPI – Menor, 1992, p. 23; Dimenstein, 1991). Of course, such protection is often associated with physical abuse by the males who are these young women’s associates. A related hypothesis about young women’s lower probability of being murdered by an extermination group is that young girls are less likely to be considered criminally dangerous – i.e. as “symbolic assailants” – and thus less likely to be murdered by strangers, including death squads. Another hypothesis is that young girls’ commodification as prostitutes provides protection from death squad assassination. As one Recife City street prostitute put it, “We have a body to sell; we serve men” (in Dimenstein, 1991, p. 22). Yet the same young women who have been sold off to the streets by, or fled to them from violent and sexually abusive homes, usually have as their only reward brutalization by clients, venereal disease and AIDS, or death from a botched abortion (Dimenstein, 1992; Estado 11/14/92). A final explanation for young girls’ lower likelihood of murder by death squads underscores the differential work locations associated with gender roles. In urban Brazil, poor female youth – due to their predominant social and work roles in house cleaning, child care, or prostitution – spend more time indoors than boys. Being indoors seems to insulate girls from murder by strangers, while at the same time increasing their vulnerability to death at the hands of a family member, close family associate, or intimate non-relative. Thus, while life on the streets
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Table 4. Murdered Youth in S˜ao Paulo State Mode of Death by Age (in Percent). Age Under
10 11–4 15–17
Mode Shot
Raped
Suffocated
Beaten
Burned
Knifed
36 64 86
29 18 –
9 5 –
9 5 –
6 – –
3 9 5
Note: Percentages do not add up to 100% due to rounding errors. Source: Mesquita (1991, pp. 8, 11, 14).
heightens the social visibility of stigmatized, outcast, youth, this is presumably spared “deviant” prostitutes who serve men indoors – suggesting that gender role definitions generally affecting physical location of work powerfully structure Brazilian youths’ vulnerability to murder by a stranger.
MODE OF DEATH Among murdered youth, the manner of death varies somewhat by gender and age, although as Table 4 indicates for S˜ao Paulo, all age groups are most likely to have died from multiple gunshot wounds. However, the youngest murder victims – more likely to be female and to have died at the hands of kin – are most often killed by suffocation, beatings, and/or burns, after having suffered sexual victimization. In middle childhood, where girls fall to a third of the victims, next to being shot, death is most likely to have been caused by knifing, suffocation, and/or beating, again often after sexual assault. Late adolescent youth, mostly males who die primarily at the hands of strangers, are killed by guns – usually associated with mutilation and torture (CPI-Menor, 1992; Dimenstein, 1991, p. 18; Mesquita, 1991, 1993; MNMMR, 1991, p. 57; UNICEF, 1991; VEJA 5/29/91).
MURDER MOTIVES As for why some Brazilians murder poor youth, a simplistic answer would be that the murders grow out of Brazilians’ socialization within a Latin American “culture of violence,” implying that a distinctive Latin American culture motivates this violence (see Wolfgang & Ferraucti, 1967). But since the United States has its own “culture of violence” – with up to twelve youth homicides a day (CDF, 1993) – we
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must question that Brazil’s violence against youth is the result of a characteristically Latin American culture of machismo. Concomitantly, the increasing numbers and proportions of youth murders in such non-Latin countries as India, where the predominant targets are outcast youth (Chic. Trib. 6/15/86, pp. 3–6; NYT 3/25/92, p. A-7), suggests that more than a Latin American culture of violence shapes youths’ exceptional vulnerability to murder in Brazil. In any case, some other explanation than a globally constructed “culture of violence” is needed to explain the increases in violence against Brazilian youth. A more salient motive behind the youth murders is profit. Many murderers receive a fee for services rendered: Prospective victims auctioned off to the lowest bidders; some shop owners and commercial associations have assassination teams on retainer. In July 1991, the going rate for killing a street youth was just half that month’s adult minimum wage (Estado 8/19/91, p. 9). It is ironic that a street youth is worth more dead than the child’s labor would earn in two weeks even at an (unlikely) adult level. In a related motive, many business people see “street children” as bad for business: The glue sniffers and pilferers are said to scare away shoppers and hold down sales (VEJA 7/28/93a, b, p. 18). Besides, the poor youth who toil in Brazil’s informal sector – particularly those who hawk the same goods as the rent-and tax-paying shops, and at lower prices – are considered unfair competitors. Thus some merchants or their commercial associations pay police, rent-a-cops, and extermination groups to kill annoying children (Boletim, 1993; Dimenstein, 1991; GAJOP, 1991a, b; Mesquita, 1991; MNMMR, 1991). While it is true that hired guns and extermination groups are paid very little by U.S. standards, even these earnings are no doubt helpful in an economy with few jobs and low salaries – especially for police (who make up a large portion of the perpetrators) whose earnings are so low that they must live in the same slums as those they control. Given these economic realities, any extra money is extremely useful. Another motive for the youth murders is Brazilians’ frustration with the failure of the formal justice system, including its inability to control “dangerous” youth. It seems to legitimize vigilantism that Brazil’s 1990 Juvenile Code “O Estatuto da Crianca e do Adolescente” (ECA) in principle requires giving any juvenile alleged law breaker the same legal rights as adults – including not taking away their liberty unless the infractor is caught in flagrante, or where there is a judicial order for arrest. Once charged, the youthful alleged law breaker has the right to a court-appointed attorney, to confront his/her accuser, and to have parents or guardians present at proceedings (NEV, 1993). This potentially lengthy process – combined with the fact that there are insufficient facilities for incarcerating adjudged lawbreakers – has led many Brazilians to charge that the 1990 juvenile code fosters juvenile crime
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by tying the hands of the police and other officials. Since the system “protects” juvenile lawbreakers, the only recourse presumably is to murder them. It also motivates potential murderers that most killers enjoy immunity from punishment. According to this explanation, the murders continue because the murderers – whether official police, rent-a-cops, or extermination groups and individuals – get away with it. Their impunity grows in part out of an absence of public pressure to do something about the killings: At the very least, many Brazilians are disinterested in the murders; yet just as many others actually support this violence. For example, in one listener poll conducted by Recife’s sensationalist “Radio Globo” program, there was three-to-one support for the youth exterminations (GAJOP, 1991a). And in July 1993, when the state government of Rio de Janeiro set up a special telephone line for securing confidential information about the murderers of a group of seven male street youth (who had been gunned down while huddling with a group of thirty-nine other street youth at Rio de Janeiro City’s Candelaria Cathedral), twice as many people called their support of the murders as condemned them (Penha-Lopes, 1994, p. 16). And while the murderers’ identities are now known, none to date has been adjudicated or punished for this crime. Killers’ immunity grows out of the failure of the justice system and the state to punish for murder. In fact, the Brazilian state is very unlikely to act in most violence against the poor. For example, one study of all “suspicious deaths” (read: unsolved murders of the poor) in S˜ao Paulo State between 1982 and 1986 disclosed that police investigations were opened up in only 1% of the cases (Mesquita, 1990, 1991, p. 8). For youth murders in several Brazilian states, a police inquiry was opened up in only 20% of the cases (Folha, 8/8/93). Between 1986 and 1992, even where a perpetrator was known, in only 36% of such cases were police investigations ever opened up. Even then, only 20% of the youth murderers identified by the police were actually found guilty and punished (Dimenstein, 1991, p. 40).
MARGINALITY AND EXCLUSION A structural explanation for the youth murders, roots this violence first in class and racist exclusion. We propose that because of their outsider status and civic invisibility, poor youth who are dark skinned, male, adolescent and on the streets are transformed into symbolic assailants and thus vulnerably exposed as dangerous outsiders. In Brazil, the reality of class exclusion – which in fact applies as well to many of those who kill poor youth – is founded on severe socially structured inequality: The poorest 50% divide up barely 15% of the national wealth while the richest
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10% hold more than half (Drexel & Iannone, 1989, pp. 13, 14). Sixty million people (almost half the Brazilian population) live on a total family income of less than forty dollars a month (VEJA 12/19/90a, b, p. 33). Many poor adults who are in competition with poor youth for any piece of the system’s spoils, are able to distance themselves from youth of very similar social and economic status by stereotyping them as deviant and criminal. In turn, the supposedly more respectable poor Brazilians can feel that they are the hard-working honest poor. By so doing, a segment of the poor has relocated itself in social space vis-`a-vis a group of despised and deviant “others” (Caldeira, 1992). Economic conditions in the 1980s were propitious for such intra-class stereotyping. By the late 1980s – after a decade of roaring inflation (NYT, 7/25/93), stunted wages, and massive worker layoffs – the urban informal sector’s class composition had begun to change. Recession hit hard the previously somewhat better off, more privileged salaried and unionized adult (primarily male) workers. And as these workers lost their jobs, they increasingly sought relief in the informal sector. Thus, for example, in greater S˜ao Paulo, almost half the city’s new informalsector workers had recently held regular jobs in industry (42%), in services (19%), or in commerce (15%) (Estado 11/6/91, p. 4; JT 11/5/91, p. 18). As these workers entered the informal sector, they took the jobs of the poorer Brazilians who had traditionally survived there – youth, blacks, the elderly – pushing down these workers’ already meager earnings, and intensifying the competition for economic survival between different sectors of the Brazilian poor. Of course, as I have already argued, racism also plays an important role in poor Brazilian youths’ marginality, exclusion, and vulnerability to murder. The darkest Brazilians – adults and children – hold the worst jobs, get the lowest pay (even for the same jobs as lighter Brazilians), die youngest, have the least education, live in the most precarious housing, hold very few elected posts, and have few high positions in business, government, or the military (see especially Caipora Women’s Group, 1993; Dzidzienyo, 1972; Fiola, 1990; Penha-Lopes, 1994; VEJA, 7/7/93a, b). Ethnicity structures the probability of being among Brazil’s poorest and having to live off the streets. In turn, visible ethnicity also powerfully structures who among poor youth is most likely to be murdered, primarily through cultural images of crime and criminals. For example, as a Brazilian popular saying has it: “If a white man is running, he must be an athlete; if a black man is doing the same, he must be a thief” (Penha-Lopes, 1994, p. 14). Penha-Lopes (1994) argues that black men in Brazil’s urban public spaces are more likely to be searched by police or to become the object of police violence. As for the latter, three years ago the leader of Salvador da Bahia’s Olodum music group (featured on Paul Simon’s “Rhythm of the Saints” album) was shot by police while rushing with his suitcase through
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a Brazilian airport: Apparently police assumed that a black man with a suitcase must have stolen it from a tourist! (Penha-Lopes, 1994, pp. 8, 9). Clearly, an important mechanism driving the youth murders is fear of crime. Yet it must be emphasized that such fear – as a motive for the killings – has a complicated relationship to the amount of known crime. For as Mark Fishman (1978) pointed out for New York City, sometimes fear of crime more powerfully shapes public and government reactions to presumed deviants than the actual extent of their criminality. Thus, the violence against poor Brazilian youth and the public’s acceptance of youth killings, may be the result of how the public sees a segment of the youth population, and not simply a product of these youth’s actual criminality, a point that we shall develop later. Certainly, this lesson emerges from research on the Gebusi of South-Central New Guinea: These people, who are reportedly otherwise peaceful and egalitarian, have the highest measured murder rates in the world. These high homicide rates apparently result from a belief that death is invariably the result of witchcraft. After a seance to discover the perpetrator, someone is sent to kill the alleged “witch” who is thought to have cast the spell causing another’s death (Miller, 1993). The hapless alleged perpetrator is then held accountable for an event that she or he may not have actually caused, although the “objective” reality is less important than the socially constructed one: It is the belief in witches that has structured social action and fostered the violence. Similarly, within the Brazilian context poor youth are candidates for murder because they are deemed criminal and without family and other civilizing connections – in effect, feral. This stereotype enhances fear about a social category – the children of slums – already the subject of much apprehension and loathing. The image of poor youth, in general, and of poor black male teens, in particular, transforms such youth into objects to be controlled and eliminated before they destroy “good” social order. Indeed, the Brazilian high military command has even asserted that without military planning the street child “problem” will become by the year 2000 a serious threat to Brazil’s internal security (VEJA 5/29/91, p. 37). According to Caldeira (1992), this demonizing of the urban poor grows, in part, out of images about how poor urban dwellers live. Their precarious squatter slums are culturally configured as “residences, but not ‘proper’ residences”: The favelas are “on a usurped terrain” and inhabited by people who “do not pay city taxes, . . . do not have an official address, and . . . are not property owners” (Caldeira, 1992, p. 83). The brutalizing realities of favela life are turned against the poor, placing them in a liminal social status that is in Brazilian society but not really of it – at least not belonging to the parts of society reserved for “respectable” Brazilians (see Scheper-Hughes & Hoffman, 1994). And since the slums are thought to exemplify
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all that is dangerous and bad about Brazil, favela residents are, by definition, criminal (Caldeira, 1992, p. 84). Media discourse routinely links negative images about poor people to urban criminality. For example, when the Brazilian press reports on the murder of a poor child – commonly referring to the victim as a menino de rua, menor, or pivete – an image is evoked of a glue-sniffing, familyless, dirty, thieving, dangerously violent delinquent. This is the “street child” who gets media attention; these are the children whom many Brazilians – and foreign tourists – want out of “their” public spaces; the places reserved for proper civic actors. These are the kids that Brazil can presumably do without. In fact, contrary to these popular images of poor youth, the majority of them have ties to family and kin: They are on the streets to work, turning over most of their paltry earnings to relatives (Campos, 1991; Fukui et al., 1985; Jornal do Brasilia, 10/12/93: Cid. 1; Rimbaud, 1980). Indeed, research demonstrates that if street youth do not visit kin more regularly, it is not for lack of desire to do so. Their family often lives several bus rides from urban streets where they work, making it difficult to get home every day. In any case, a return home would very likely be associated with family demands on them: If they remain away from home they can at least control some of their meager earnings (Campos, 1991; Huggins & Rodrigues, 2004). As for another erroneus image, rather than “street children” constituting a homogeneous mass of deviant outsiders, as the stereotype suggests, Brazil’s street children” can be divided into meninos na rua – children on the streets – and meninos de rua – children of the streets (Huggins, 1991b; Huggins & Mesquita, 1996; Nason, 1994). And there are still further subdivisions within each of these two global groupings, as the Rizzinis’ research in Rio de Janeiro illustrates (UNICEF, 1990). In fact, the Rizzinis found that about three quarters of Rio’s street youth were “children on the streets” – the “family-based street workers” and the “independent street workers.” Among the former, 21% were young male adolescents who worked on the streets and attended school regularly. The majority of these family-based street workers (59%) had close contact or lived with their two-parent families and had very little involvement with drugs or other illegal activities (UNICEF, 1990, p. 84). Jefferson, whose murder introduced this study, was such a youth. Another half of the Rizzinis’ Rio de Janeiro youth sample were “independent street workers,” mostly adolescent boys (72%) who lived in two-parent families (62%). Although these youth often slept on the street, they returned home frequently; they were not able (31%) to attend school regularly. Sixty-two percent of the independent street workers had used drugs, and 45% had engaged in other illicit activities. A majority of these independent street workers (60%) had had encounters with the police, and/or had been sent to institutions for abandoned children (UNICEF, 1990, p. 84).
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A much smaller set of Brazilian street youth (a quarter of the Rio de Janeiro sample) are “children of the streets” (meninos de rua) who fit more closely the stereotype of a “street child” – living on the street, maintaining very little or no contact with birth or adoptive family and kin, and necessarily engaging in some illegality. Yet a fact completely obscured by media stereotypes and daily talk about crime and criminals is that the largest portion of the youthful murder victims fit more closely the street-based family-linked youth workers, than these hard-core street youth who have lost contact with their families. In any case, the latter constitute a minority of all youth on the streets of Brazil’s large urban areas. For example, one census of children on S˜ao Paulo streets found that, while 4,520 of the street youth could be categorized as “children on the streets” (the “family-based” and “independent” street workers), only 895 youths – or between 16 and 17% – could be labeled “children of the streets,” living more or less permanently on the street (JT 10/8/93, p. B-7). Still, not all of these streetbased youth committed serious violent crime, and none of them committed crime all of the time – the image suggested by stereotypes about street children. For example, a 1993 survey of how “hard-core” S˜ao Paulo street kids spent their days and nights showed that the majority of their time was devoted to walking around – both day and night, and then to working, begging, or thieving during the day. At night, they had to be vigilant against danger and try intermittently to sleep. In fact, the hard-core street children spent most of their time struggling to secure their survival against cold, hunger, danger, and loneliness, as a day in the life of a S˜ao Paulo street kid demonstrates. In 1993, Romalho, 16, had already lived two months at the entrance of the Prac¸a da S´e Metro Station. He had previously lived in the hole of a thick building – until the Military Police invaded and threw him out. Now, Romalho begs all day: He does not have work documents and cannot get a “real job.” At night, Romalho and another boy take refuge in the warm dry Metro station entrance, until the Military Police evict them from it too. When Romalho is able to rest, he ‘thinks about [his] life,’ but he worries about his girlfriend, Patricia, who disappeared three months ago and is pregnant with their child.
In scarce moments of rest, Romalho daydreams about becoming a samba dancer. But his dreams of this bright future are broken by the sad realities of his situation: “What am I going to do with my life? I don’t have money to get a work document. I even tried to get help from Projeto Vida [a social service organization] and they wouldn’t let me in.” Still, Romalho is proud that, even though he has “been hungry, [he has] never robbed: I just want to be a samba dancer, that’s all” (JT 10/8/93, p. 7-B). The Rizzinis Rio de Janeiro study of street children found that only 15% of the interviewees were, like Romalho, “children of the streets.” The youth in this category were, on average, fourteen-year-old boys who had come from two-parent
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families (53%) but who at the time of Rizzinis’ research lived permanently on the street. Among such youth, almost 60% had been involved in illegal activities: Over 80% had used drugs; slightly over half had been arrested and sent to an institution (UNICEF, 1990). Another subcategory of hard-core street youth on Rio de Janeiro’s streets are the “children of street families” who live on streets with their mothers. These children, who constituted 13% of the Rio de Janeiro sample, were without doubt the poorest and most disadvantaged of the various categories of street youth – younger (10.4 years) and with very fragile or no connections to non-street kin, and a more continuous generational history of street life. At the same time, these “children of street youth” were less likely than the other “hard-core” children of the streets to have used drugs (57%) or to have engaged in other illegalities (39%) – suggesting, of course, that the older street kin secured their childrens’ survival. In any case, the children of street families remained on the streets for only about 1.3 years, on average, a shorter period than other hard-core street children, who lived full-time on the streets for three to four years (UNICEF, 1990). Christina, 20, is both typical and an exception to other street families. In 1993, she had already lived ten years near S˜ao Paulo’s Prac¸a da S´e, before being rounded up in a police dragnet and sent to a facility for abandoned youth. Christina had survived on the streets with her infant children by begging and petty theft – shoplifting at department stores or grabbing valuables from passersby. Still, Christina has a strict ethic about theft: “I will not steal from a pregnant woman, a woman with children in her arms, or old people.” Christina prefers to steal from “office boys and ladies men” (JT 10/8/93, p. 7-B). But Christina is deeply disillusioned about the realities of her difficult life: In her words, “No one is [on the street] because they want to be; no one chooses this life.” (JT 10/8/93, p. 7-B).
A SOCIOLOGY OF EVIL As we have already argued, negative stereotypes about poor youth provide a foundation for the youth murders by drawing symbolic parentheses around “proper” society and its “good” citizens and offering a quick formula for differentiating the “good” and “conforming” poor who stay in their places from the deviant poor who make “improper” use of the social spaces reserved for true civic actors. In her application of this thesis to crime in Brazil, Caldeira (1992) explains that in Brazil, “evil” – which is the opposite of “reason” – “is what does not make sense [and] . . . takes advantage of people’s state of precarious rationality.” Accordingly, some Brazilians are more susceptible to being seduced by evil than others: Poor people are thought to be “closer to nature . . . further away from reason and rational
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behavior”; others with high vulnerability are “children, women, teenagers, . . . and people in a stage [sic] of disturbed consciousness, like drug users” (Caldeira, 1992, p. 97). However, because women and children are thought to be easier to control, they are considered less susceptible to the forces of evil than young men who “are drawn into environments where evil abounds [ – ] the main one being the street [itself] . . . where they encounter drugs which disturb consciousness (Caldeira, 1992, p. 98). Caldeira thus offers a very good explanation for poor teenage boys’ greater vulnerability to being murdered: They are seen as beyond the influence of reason. Once something is defined as beyond reason and thus evil, it cannot be reformed and must be eliminated. Even the methods of killing poor youth reflect these images of dangerous others. A common murder ritual involves raping the victim, male or female, carving up the victim’s chest, cutting off the genitals, pulling out the eyes, burning the body, before or after execution by multiple gun shots (CPI-Menor, 1992; Dimenstein, 1991; Mesquita, 1991, 1993; MNMMR, 1991; VEJA 5/29/91). In the process, the murder victim is literally brutalized out of existence – like a cancer being excised from society (Martins, 1991). And more than just guaranteeing a youth’s permanent exclusion, this violence sends a powerful message to Brazil’s “dangerous class”: If the poor step out of line they are murdered; at the very least, their suffering from such violence is ignored. And if social exclusion is not guaranteed by the violence against demonized youth, then it is symbolized by Brazilians’ neglect of victims’ and families’ suffering. Besides murder reinforcing exclusion, it also maintains inter-class relations. For as we have seen, the killers of poor youth are usually on- and off-duty police, private security cops, and police-related death squads – actors who share social class and status with their victims. Yet, if the poor are in violent conflict with one another, they have less energy for challenging the larger social system. And in the absence of any effective state action to ameliorate human misery, the killings provide an illusion that something is being done about human suffering.
SOCIOLOGY AND MARGINALITY A perspective that looks at “social control at the margins” (Aday, 1990), suggests a more macro sociological explanation for the youth murders by arguing that they are part of a dynamic equilibrium that involves a perceived normative violation or alleged violation (the behavior of street youth) and the social controls against it (torture and murder). Now, according to Aday’s argument, to the extent that a society is relatively stable and dynamically integrated around some form of commonality and solidarity – whether such integration is positive or negative for
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the groups involved – there will be less deviance and less need for overt social controls to regulate it. In contrast, a society in a state of flux and change is associated with less commonality and interconnectedness and more blatant social controls (Aday, 1990). In terms of how stereotyping and torture and murder enter into this dynamic, it could be argued that “the systematic demonizing of any sector (with the poor and powerless being a convenient one) may be a reaction to some larger processes of societal disintegration which gives rise to . . . feelings of “meaninglessness, dissonance, disaccord, and helplessness” (Anonymous, 1994). In turn, the “vigorous efforts to impose social control on a demonized group generate a new sense of clarity, unity, and purpose and help reduce feelings of meaninglessness, dissonance, disaccord, and helplessness” (Anonymous, 1994, p. 4). In other words, social control reestablishes “order” and gives a new sense of power and control to the powerless. Indeed, in the decade since Brazil began its formal redemocratization process, following over twenty years of authoritarian rule, a number of structural realities have seriously shaken Brazilian social structure and polity. During the 1980s the proportion of national income held by the richest 1% of the population increased from thirteen to 17%, and that held by the poorest 50% fell from thirteen to 10% (Caldeira, 1992, p. 37). To make matters worse, this was a period of high inflation, serious economic recession (“stagflation”), and widespread worker layoffs. High inflation forced Brazilians to live day-to-day and set aside long-term projects and goals. And high unemployment – especially in the better-paid auto, textile, and steel industries – meant that more and more Brazilians were having trouble anchoring themselves and thinking optimistically about upward social mobility. Caldeira (1992) argues that as a consequence, “social interactions” [became] tense and patterns of sociability [underwent] deep transformations,” as a good number of Brazilians came to feel that “basic institutions [were] falling apart” (Caldeira, 1992, p. 21).
CONCLUSION Sociology is ill-prepared to explain the relationship of Brazil’s youth murders to a youth’s marginalization, civic invisibility, and social visibility as symbolic assailant. And, in fact, it helps ensure the sociological invisibility of murderers and victims that popular discourse about the murders is structured to hide their presence even from sociological awareness. For example, from a strict sociology of deviance perspective, there are three ways of defining deviance and of identifying criminals and victims. A legalistic definition sees deviance as any activity that
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breaks the laws or other formal rules of a group. A social consequence approach sees deviance as activity that does significant harm to an individual or collectivity. While the labeling perspective (Becker, 1973) considers as deviant any activity that calls up negative social reactions from the collectivity or its agents. Now, according to the first definition, the murderers of poor youth are deviant because murder is illegal in Brazil. Yet, as we have shown, this is not how many Brazilians see it. And in any case, Brazil’s legal system does not negatively sanction most youth murderers. This helps ensure that most perpetrators escape legalistic assignment of criminality. However, if we take deviance to be any activity that causes significant social harm, then according to this social consequences criterion, the perpetrators of youth murder are deviant – although often not formally criminal. Still, by killing Brazilian youth they are eliminating part of the generation that is Brazil’s future, and by engaging in vigilante justice they are undermining development of legal recourse against crime. However, as we have said, many Brazilians see those who kill “street children” as social servants who must keep order in the face of an ineffective police and justice system. Yet whether or not such youth actually committed property crimes, these are not capital offenses in Brazil – a country that, in any case, does not have the death penalty. Thus, such youth – who are at most only criminals allegedly – cannot legally be murdered by either private citizens or the state. Finally, according to a labeling perspective, poor urban youth are deviant since a large part of the Brazilian population treats poor youth as deviant outsiders who are deserving of harsh punishment. Thus, whether through academic definitions of deviance and crime, or through an elaborate process of social scapegoating, the poor youth who are killed each day in Brazil are often conceptualized as deviants rather than victims. Their socio-political marginalization is paralleled by sociology’s lack of clear theoretical guideposts for explaining their murders. It is my hypothesis that the transformation of violence victims into criminals is most likely to occur where violence is seen as apolitical and anomic; where violence victims are marginalized and socially stigmatized and rendered relatively powerless vis-`a-vis their victimizers and the larger social system. This, in turn, provides fertile soil for a “culture of denial” (Cohen, 1993, p. 103) that helps to neutralize the youth murders (see Sykes & Matza, 1957). Brazilians’ neutralization discourse includes: (a) denying that any injury really occurred: “poor youth commit violence against each other; their murder is only an extension of violent lives”; (b) dehumanizing the victims: “street youth are feral discards of undersocialized parents”; (c) rejecting state culpability for youth murders: “their murderers are lone-wolf killers who are merely settling accounts in the only way they know how”; (d) appealing to a higher good to justify the murders: “street youth are dangerous
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social evils that threaten the very fabric of Brazilian society,” as Brazil’s military claims. This neutralization discourse helps foster the invisibility of youth murderers and their victims and exempts state agencies and organized society from responsibility for the violence against poor youth. In fact, of course, the youth murders are part of the rational organization of Brazilian society, even though images of these “vigilantes” portray them to the contrary. Yet, blaming poor youth for all that ails Brazil averts thinking about the socio-structural conditions that throw some Brazilian children onto the streets for survival. It disregards the fact that youth are on the street because their families have no resources to send them to school, and there are not sufficient schools for them to attend (Miami Herald, 3/15/94, pp. 1, 4A). It discounts the fact that children live and work on the streets because they do not have adequate food, social space, or sanitary conditions at home, and thus must survive in even more unsafe and unsanitary public spaces in order to help support their families. Like most stereotypes, the Brazilian image of poor urban youth – as dangerous street children – personalizes the social problem of youth murders and helps mute social consciousness about their relationship to such structurally rooted social problems as inflation, unemployment, debt, hunger, and brutal land and other wealth inequalities – all infinitely more corrosive of Brazil’s newly democratizing state than the petty crimes of some “street children.” While recognizing the seriousness for poor families of having their children captured by the streets and by its drugs and violence, we need to ask what better and more permanent solutions to youth homicides might be found, if we were not distracted by the assumption that the victims of this violence are part of the social problem rather than its symptom.
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Campos, M., Machado Malta (1991). Infˆancia abandonada o piedoso disfarce do trabalho precoce. In: Jose de Souza Martins (Ed.), Massacre dos Innocentes. S˜ao Paulo: Ed. Hucitec. Chicago Tribune (Chi.Trib.) (1986). Med schools fear skeleton pinch (June 15), 6–3. Childrens’ Defense Fund (CDF) (1993). The state of America’s children. Washington, DC. Cohen, S. (1993). Human rights and crimes of the state: The culture of denial. Austrialian and New Zealand Journal of Criminology, 26(July), 97–115. CPI-Menor (1992, March). Destinada a Investigar o Exterminio de Criancas e Adolescentes no Brazil. Relat´orio Final. Brasilia: Cˆamara do Deputados. CPI-Menor, S. P. (1993, October). A Comiss˜ao Parliamentar de Inquerito para Investigar o Menor. S˜ao Paulo: Assembl´ea Legislativa. Dimenstein, G. (1991). A Guerra dos Meninos: Assassinatos de Menoresno Brazil. S˜ao Paulo: Editora Brasiliense. Drexel J., & Iannone, L. (1989). Crian¸ca e Miseria. S˜ao Paulo: Editora Moderna. Dzidzienyo, A. (1972). The position of blacks in Brazilian society. In: B. Whitaker (Ed.), The Fourth World: Victims of Group Oppression. New York: Schocken. Estado de S˜ao Paulo (Estado) (1991, August 19). Exterm´ınio de Menor Negado por Comerciante. Estado de S˜ao Paulo (Estado) (1992). Assassinatos de Menores Aumentam 1, 440%. May 5: Cid.1. Fiola, J. (1990). Race relations in Brazil: A reassessment of the racial democracy thesis. University of Massachusetts at Amherst: Monograph Series. Fishman, M. (1978). Crime war as ideology. Social Problems, 26(June), 531–543. Folha de S˜ao Paulo (Folha) (1991). CPI Culpa Policais por Morte de Crianc¸as. December 7, I-10. Folha de S˜ao Paulo (Folha) (1993). So 20% de Crimes Contra Crianc¸as Recebem Punic¸a˜ o. August 8, I-15. Fukui, L. et al. (1985). A Quest˜ao do Trabalho Infantil na Grand Imprensa Paulista na Decada de 70. Revista de Estudos Pedagˆogicos, 66 (152), 28–46. GAJOP (1991a). Grupos de Exterminio: A Banaliza¸ca˜ o da Vida e da Morte em Pernambuco. Olinda: GAJOP. GAJOP (1991b, January-September). Levantamento de Homic´ıdios de Crianc¸as e Adolescentes. O Globo (Globo) (1993). “Violˆencia Contra Menor Aumenta 50% no Rio. November 2, Rio-10. Greenfield, S., & Prust, R. (1990). Popular religion, patronage, and resource distribution in Brazil. In: E. Smith (Ed.), Perspectives on the Informal Economy. Washington, DC: University Press of America. Huggins, M. K. (1991a). Vigilantism and the state in modern Latin America. New York: Praeger. Huggins, M. K. (1991b). Lost childhoods: Assassinations of youth in democratizing Brazil. Unpublished Paper. Huggins, M. K., & Mesquita, Myriam M. P. de Castro (1996). Exclusion, civic invisibility, and symbolic assailant status as explanations for youth murders in Brazil. Childhood: A Global Journal of Child Research, 3(1). London: Sage. Huggins, M. K., & Rodrigues, S. (2004). Kids working on Paulista Avenue. Childhood: A Global Journal of Child Research, 11(4) IBGE (Instituto Brasileiro de Geogr´afia e Estatistica) (1992). Anu´ario Estat´ıst´ıco do Brazil. Rio de Janeiro: Fundac¸a˜ o Instituito Brasileiro de Geografia e Estaistica. Jornal da Tarde (JT) (1991). Camelˆos os Novos Filhos da Crise Economica. November 5, Cid.–18. Jornal da Tarde (JT) (1993). Secretaria Conta Meninos de Rua. October 8, 7−B. Jornal do Bras´ılia (1993). Crianc¸as Encontram Trabalho na Rua. October 12, Cid. 1. Jornal do Brazil (JB) (1990). ONU Prequisou Morte de Menor em 16 Estados. April 8, I-8. Jornal do Brazil (JB) (1991a). Assassinatos de Crianc¸as. November 23, Cid., 5.
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Jornal do Brazil (JB) (1991b). CPI Aponta 7 Mil Assassinatos de Crianc¸as nos Ultimos Anos. December 6, I-4. Kowarick, L. (1994). Social struggles and the city: The case of S˜ao Paulo. New York: Monthly Review Press. Martins, J. de Souza (1991). Lynchings – Life by a thread, street justice in Brazil, 1979–1988. In: M. K. Huggins (Ed.), Vigilantism and the State in Modern Latin America. New York: Praeger. Mesquita, Myriam M. P. de Castro (1990, July). State and society: A violation of the right to life. Unpublished Paper presented at the University of Coimbra, Portugal. Mesquita, Myriam M. P. de Castro (1991). Assassinatos de Crianc¸as e Adolescentes no Estado de S˜ao Paulo. S˜ao Paulo: Documentac¸a˜ o Gr´afica, NEV/USP. Mesquita, Myriam M. P. de Castro (1993). Assassinatos de Criancas e Adolescentes no Estado de S˜ao Paulo. Revista Cr´ıtica de Ciencias Sociais, 36, 81–102. Mesquita, Myriam M. P. de Castro (1995). Homiadios de Crianc¸as e Adolescentes: Uma Contribulcao para a Administrac¸a˜ o da Justica Criminal em S˜ao Paulo.” S˜ao Paulo: Minist´erio P´ublico do Estado de S˜ao Paulo/UNICEF. Miller, W. J. (1993). Humiliation. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Miami Herald (1994). Resource-rich Brazil failing its children: A school system in chaos. March 14: 1, 4A. MNMMR (1991). Vidas em Risco, Rio de Janiero: Movimento Nacional de Meninos e Meninas de Rua. Nason, Q. (1994). Menimos de Rua: An Espistemology. Master’s Thesis, Joseph H. Lauder Institute of Management and International Studies, PH: University of Pennsylvania. NEV (1993). Os Direitos Humanos no Brasil. S˜ao Paulo: USP/NEV/CTV. New York Times (NYT) (1992). Hundreds tortured to death in India, rights group says. March 25, A-7. New York Times (NYT) (1993). Brazilians learning to beat dizzying inflation. July, 25, 11. Penha-Lopes, V. (1994). An unsavary union: Poverty, racism, and the murders of street youth in Brazil. Unpublished Paper. Rimbaud, C. (1980). 53 Millions d’Enfantes au Travail. Paris: PLON. Scheper, H. N., & Hoffman, D. (1994, May/June). Kids out of place. NACLA, 27(6). SEJUP (Servico Brasileiro de Justica) (1994, November 17 and 24). Rio de Janeiro, Peacenet, 155–156. Sykes, G., & Matza, D. (1957). Techniques of neutralization: A theory of delinquency. American Sociological Review, 22, 664–670. UNICEF (1990). O Trabalho e a Rua: Crianc¸as e Adolescentes no Brasil Urbano dos Anos 80. Rio de Janeiro: UNICEF. UNICEF (1991). Bahia: Suas Crianc¸as e Adolescentes of que Esta Acontecendo? Salvador: UNICEF. VEJA (1990a). Meninos de Rua: Os Filhos da Mis´eria e do Crime. May 29, 32–35. VEJA (1990b). Cidadoes da Rua. December 19, 38–48. VEJA (1991). Meninos de rua: os filhos da miseria e do crime. May 29, 32–35. VEJA (1993a). O Morte Como Rotina, July 28, 20–22. VEJA (1993b). A Cinderela Negra, July 7, 66–71. Wolfgang, M., & Ferfaucti, F. (1967). The subculture of violence: Towards an integrated theory in criminality. London: Tavistock.
THE IMPACT OF RELIGIOSITY ON DEVIANCE AND CRIMINAL ACTIVITY IN YOUTH AND YOUNG ADULTS Kimya Nuru Dennis INTRODUCTION Juvenile delinquency is the commission of a status or delinquent offense. The difference between status and delinquent offenses is that a status offense is only criminal for juveniles and includes such an offense as truancy. Delinquent offenses are criminal for both juveniles and adults (Samaha, 1997). According to the Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention, an estimated 2.5 million people under the age of 18 were arrested in 1999. Thirty-two percent of these arrests were of youth under the age of 15. Among the 2.5 million arrested, OJJDP statistics for 1999 show that 103,900 youth were arrested for violent crimes; 541,500 youth were arrested for property crimes; and 198,400 youth were arrested for drug abuse violations (Snyder & Sickmund, 1999). Research indicates that many factors contribute to juvenile delinquency, including but not limited to race, gender, education level, socioeconomic status, and single-parent households (Agnew, 1993). An extensive amount of research has been conducted on the impact of religion and religiosity on delinquency, including that conducted by Charles Tittle and Michael Welch (1983), Knudten and Knudten (1971), Rodney Stark (1996), and John Cochran (1994). It is theoretically assumed that religiosity, or a sense of religious devotion, is a possible deterrent or “re-directing” factor in youth delinquency (Kornblum &
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Julian, 1995). Juveniles must be dissuaded from believing that nobody cares, nothing matters, and any type of behavior is acceptable or permissible. Religious affiliation and involvement can be methods of including youth and steering them towards acceptable behaviors. Religiosity and religious institutions can be used to encourage positive behavior, underline the benefits of moral living, and as an outreach to those in need by bringing them back into a community (Kornblum & Julian, 1995). The theoretical link between religiosity and delinquency has been tested, but the findings are rather mixed. For instance, Cochran (1994) found the relationship between religiosity and delinquency to be spurious, meaning that the relationship is contingent upon other factors, such as family and peer attachment. However, Stark (1996) found the relationship between religiosity and delinquency to be significantly independent of other factors. Given such a variation in findings, the issue of the relationship between religiosity and delinquency remains unclear and requires further study. Therefore, this paper will examine this relationship. It is important to note that the research presents a difference between religion and religiosity. While religiosity encompasses religion, religion does not entail religiosity. Religiosity encompasses religion in that most individuals can attribute their faith-base or belief system to a particular religion (Anderson & Taylor, 2000). Individuals can claim religious affiliations or denominations without necessarily practicing or being devoted to that faith. Religion refers to a specific set of beliefs, usually attributed to a specific religion, faith, or denomination (Johnston, 2001). Whereas, religiosity surpasses the boundaries of a particular faith, belief, or denomination and highlights the intensity and consistency of practice. Religiosity focuses more on an individual’s belief system and moral standards, in which the individual is a willing and active participant (Johnston, 2001). A relationship between religiosity and delinquency can be expected because of the common view that religious interaction encourages ties to conventional institutions and individuals (Elliott, 1985). With regard to deterring juveniles from delinquent acts, Knudten et al. (1975) found it necessary to increase youth involvement in religious institutions. According to Knudten et al. (1975), in order to nurture moral conduct, juveniles must see both the importance of religious practices and the positive religious environment of their home. Thus, the religious affiliation and involvement of the youth and the religious climate of their environment are significant. Individuals use their own religious beliefs and involvement, and those of family and peers, to help create social rules and meanings to guide their experiences (Zanden, 1990). Basing social rules and meanings on religious values can foster moral conduct and “religious behavior” (Zanden, 1990). The level of a youth’s connection to religious institutions and the involvement of their peers in religion can serve as a way to deal with failure and disappointment. Religiosity can also offer alternatives to depression, suicide, and committing
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delinquent acts (Zanden, 1990). To illustrate, Romig (1989) found that delinquent acts were most likely to be committed by youth who did not have emotional attachments to school, job, church, or other pro-social institutions. As a result of this lack of emotional attachment, youth have no positive alternatives for handling failure, depression, and other emotions. This refers to the issue of religious faith and the ability to seek strength from sources outside of oneself. In this sense, delinquency would be impacted by the youth’s adherence to religious and spiritual alternatives. Romig (1989) found a relatively low rate of delinquency among juveniles and young adults associated with religious organizations. However, regular attendance was found to be of importance. Through regular attendance, religious institutions can influence youth by doing their part in delinquency prevention and setting forth moral, ethical, and spiritual values. Romig (1989) concluded that religious institutions play a role in deterring youth from committing delinquent acts and preventing future acts of delinquency. Based on the fact that there is a plausible correlation between the ability of religiosity to influence delinquent behavior, combined with the mixed results regarding the topic, this study seeks to test the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency. Secondary data analysis from Wave V of the National Youth Survey, conducted by Delbert Elliott (1980), will be used to examine this relationship. The limitation of such a study is the reliance on the original researcher’s conceptualization and operationalization of the concepts examined. Varying measurements of religiosity and delinquency will be discussed, along with a more detailed explanation of the National Youth Survey, in the section on Methodology.
LITERATURE REVIEW The purpose of the present study is to examine the relationship between juvenile delinquency and religiosity. This section considers five essential areas: (a) the theoretical foundations; (b) a look at the research relating to religiosity and delinquency; (c) religious ecology; and (d) methodological issues. Social bond, social control, social learning, and social disorganization theories will be examined as they relate to the issue of delinquency and religiosity through a youth’s attachment to conventional or delinquent institutions and individuals. The role of religion as a moral guide and a form of social control will be considered. Neighborhood disorder will be examined as it relates to social disorganization and the need for youth to have a stable environment. Finally, this chapter will present the methodological issues regarding the study of religiosity and juvenile delinquency.
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SOCIAL BOND, SOCIAL CONTROL, SOCIAL LEARNING, AND SOCIAL DISORGANIZATION There are four theories that are generally used to link religiosity and delinquency: social bond, social control, social learning, and social disorganization. Briefly, social bond refers to attachment, investment, and involvement between individuals and groups that either leads to conformity or non-conformity (Stark, 2001). The demand for social conformity is the core of social control. Social controls are the methods and strategies that regulate people’s behavior within society (Zanden, 1990). Social learning is closely related to the notion of social bond attachment in that individuals learn positive or negative attitudes and behaviors from social institutions such as family, peers, and schools (Samaha, 1997). Social disorganization refers to the poor housing and neighborhood conditions that can weaken the moral fabric of those within that environment. The assumption with these theories is that a breakdown in “appropriate” community ties influences the likelihood that a youth will engage in criminal activity (Babbie & Maxfield, 1998). Social bond, social learning, social control, and social disorganization are pertinent in examining the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency because of the focus on the environment and societal influences. Youth who are surrounded by disorder and neighborhood breakdown have a greater potential to interact with unconventional institutions and individuals, therefore becoming less prone to adhere to conventional moral guidelines. As a result, such youth are more likely to commit acts of delinquency (MacIntyre, 1996). Youth become attached to, and learn behaviors and beliefs from, those institutions and individuals with which they come into the most contact or identify with (Romig, 1989). There are a number of studies, including Benda and Toombs (2000), and Mason and Windle (2001), that have tested a number of these theories or a combination of these theories with religiosity. The mixed findings underline the importance of examining the studies closer in terms of those that have found support for the relationship between religiosity and delinquency and those identifying the relationship to be spurious.
A LOOK AT THE RESEARCH RELATING TO RELIGIOSITY AND DELINQUENCY There are a number of factors that are considered in the relationship between religiosity and delinquency. Therefore, the research relating to religiosity and
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delinquency have mixed findings. This research will be reviewed in terms of: (1) research supporting the relationship between religiosity and delinquency; and (2) research suggesting additional explanations beyond religiosity.
RESEARCH SUPPORTING THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN RELIGIOSITY AND DELINQUENCY The independent effect of religiosity on juvenile delinquency is outlined to address those studies that found the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency to be statistically significant and independent of other factors. To address the direct impact of religiosity on juvenile delinquency, the following will be reviewed: (1) religious participation and commitment; (2) stigmatization; (3) age of respondent; and (4) secular and religious constraint.
RELIGIOUS PARTICIPATION AND COMMITMENT It is important for youth to be able to identify with others in hopes of gaining an understanding of self through knowledge of what surrounds them. Thoroddur Bjarnason (1998) explored the Durkheimian concept of anomie, as it relates to adolescents. Anomie is the loss of morale associated with losing one’s social identity. This loss of morale and identity results in a sense of hopelessness and uncertainty (Durkheim, 1897/1951). In direct response to the Durkheimian concept of anomie, Bjarnason (1998) found that religiosity decreased individual-level anomie. This is due to religiosity’s moral constraint and its tendency to inspire individuals to adopt lawful and healthy behaviors. Bjarnason (1998) examined a structural model of social control, social support, religious participation, and their perceived effects on constraint among adolescents. Religious participation was found to increase the perception of social constraint for youth. However, no independent effect was found for religious orthodoxy and divine support on anomie. The results of the Bjarnason (1998) study indicate that religious participation is one of the factors that increase a youth’s constraint on participation in unhealthy activities. Bjarnason (1998) referred to the protective nature of religion in its consistent pattern of enhancing the adolescent’s quality of life by offering youth alternatives to feelings of loneliness and failure. Through a greater sense of selfworth and higher levels of involvement in conventional institutions, youth are more likely to choose healthy and conventional interactions and behavior (Bjarnason, 1998).
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STIGMATIZATION An example of the emotional vulnerability of youth is in the effect of stigmatization on them. The direct impact of religiosity on socialization was the emphasized by Brega and Coleman (1999) in a study of the subjective stigmatization of Black youth. A stigma is defined as something that is frowned upon by others based on negative views and stereotypes. Based on this definition, Brega and Coleman (1999) found that a large percentage of the youth in the study had a positive attitude toward the black church and would attend church if it were their choice. This is contrary to the perception that youth are increasingly non-religious and alienated from morals and religious beliefs. To the contrary, Brega and Coleman (1999) found that religion is more important to youth than many assume it to be, with a 1992 Gallup Poll finding that 95% of American teenagers believe in God. Within this 95% of American teenagers who believe in God, 93% of them believe that God loves them; 93% were affiliated with religious groups or denominations; and 80% thought religion was important (Brega & Coleman, 1999). Youth with stronger commitments to the church were found to be less stigmatized. Therefore, intervention should be designed to increase levels of commitment and involvement in religious activities. The perception of divine love and support counteracts feelings of doubt and the stigmas imposed by society. The focus of the Brega and Coleman (1999) study is on race and how racial stigmas can be lessened through a youth’s commitment to religious activities and racial socialization. A lack of self-esteem and negative self-concept can increase the likelihood that a youth will display negative behaviors. Being generally applied, such commitment to religious activities increases self-esteem and self-worth. The likelihood that a youth will act out in a deviant fashion is decreased, as well as the likelihood that the youth will be stigmatized because of delinquent behavior.
AGE OF RESPONDENT Benda and Toombs (2000) examined the significance of family and peer attachment as they relate to religiosity and delinquency through social bond and social learning. This research suggested that religiosity is significantly related to the commission of violent acts. The effect of religiosity on violent acts is not largely attributed to participation. However, a combination of religious participation and age of respondent enhanced the impact of religiosity on violent acts. In reference to peer and family attachment, older respondents were found to have a greater sense of self, therefore being less influenced by family and peer interactions. This suggests
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that religiosity is more important to older respondents because they are most likely to rely on spiritual guidance and have formulated their own beliefs system. Age of respondent was also a factor uncovered in a study of religiosity and substance use and abuse conducted by Miller (2000). The author cited an inverse association between religiosity and substance use and abuse. Substance use and abuse are significant forms of delinquency in that there are limited secular sanctions and tend to be deemed private acts. Individuals can often hide such behavior from public scrutiny. As a result, individuals turn to the alternative sources of peers, family, and religion when they choose to discontinue such deviance (Miller, 2000). It was found that adolescents are more impacted by religiosity than adults due to the fact that adolescents were seeking to be “protected” from the harsh outcomes associated with choosing negative alternatives (Miller, 2000). The direction and purpose that the adolescents sought could, in part, be found in religiosity and a belief in a higher power (Miller, 2000). The greater impact of religiosity on adolescents than adults is partially attributed to the fact that older respondents tend to be less likely to be searching for the purpose and direction that religiosity can offer (Miller, 2000).
SECULAR AND RELIGIOUS CONSTRAINT Johnson (2001) addressed delinquent associations and how they factor into the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency. With consideration given to social bond and social learning theories, Johnson (2001) hypothesized that the direct effects of religiosity on delinquency were significant when beliefs, delinquent associations, and socio-demographic variables were held constant. Johnson (2001) further hypothesized that the impact of religiosity on delinquency was partially mediated by beliefs and delinquent associations. Delinquent associations were expected not to have a direct influence on a youth’s decision to commit acts of delinquency. Instead, it was expected that religiosity has more of an influence on what types of interactions a youth has and whether the youth has delinquent associations. Through this degree of influence, Johnson (2001) found that an adolescent’s religiosity had a significant effect on moral values, peer relations, and behavioral patterns. Thus, the effect of religiosity on delinquency is consistent and not spurious or indirect through secular variables and secular social constraints. The effect of religiosity on juvenile delinquency is partially due to how participation in religious activities affects individual perceptions and beliefs regarding delinquent behavior (Johnson, 2001). With such a constant reference to religious guidelines and secular social constraints, there is a need to decipher which controls are religious versus the
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more secular forms of control. Cochran (1988) made a similar distinction and noted the failure of researchers to make the distinction between social standards and religiosity. Religious standards and secular standards sometimes conflict in that what is deemed delinquent or unacceptable may vary. The deterrent factor of religion on secular deviance, such as drug use, was found to be weak because it was overpowered by more secular constraints on deviance enforced by secular social control sanctions or institutions (Cochran, 1988). However, premarital intercourse, infidelity, and being a dishonest person often have less secular ramifications. These acts may be more influenced by the individual’s religious views than by how society, in general, views and sanctions such acts. Despite the variability of the effects of religion on different forms of deviance, Cochran (1988) maintained that the religiosity and the general concept of delinquency, without offense-specificity, are inversely related and that relationship should no longer be questioned.
SUMMARY The studies outlined the independent and statistically significant effect of religiosity on juvenile delinquency through religious participation and commitment, stigmatization, age of respondent, and secular and religious constraints. These studies found that religiosity lessened a youth’s likelihood to commit acts of delinquency through measures of religiosity such as attendance and commitment. Age of respondent, social bond, and social attachment were found to be related factors, however the main impact on delinquency was found to be religiosity. A distinction was made between religious and secular constraints to clarify the effect of religiosity on delinquent, independent of more secular control factors (Cochran, 1988). Therefore, these studies have examined a variety of factors related to delinquency but have consistently uncovered religiosity (whether participation, commitment, or religious constraints) to be the most important influence on delinquency.
RESEARCH SUGGESTING ADDITIONAL EXPLANATIONS BEYOND RELIGIOSITY Although the previous section uncovered studies that show a direct impact between religiosity and delinquency, there are several studies that reveal a spurious relationship between the two variables. These studies will be presented by discussing the relationship with regards to: (1) family and peer attachment; and (2) secular sanctions.
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FAMILY AND PEER ATTACHMENT The ability of youth to become attached to conventional or unconventional individuals and institutions delves into social bond and social learning theories. Social bond and social learning pertain to the attachments, expectations and the relationship between youth and those within their immediate environment. Albrecht (1977) contrasted much of the previous literature and found religious variables to be weak predictors of deviance, particularly for victimless and self-reported deviance. However, peer expectations and parental attachment were found to serve as better explanations for deviance. Given this, Albrecht (1977) recommended the use of a multivariate model to examine a combination of factors, resulting in a new research model using three sets of factors: religion, peer behavior, and family relationships. Therefore, Albrecht (1977) found that, outside of more secular constraints, religiosity had an influence, but was not a strong predictor of, or deterrent to, delinquency. Mason and Windle (2001) also addressed youth attachment to conventional individuals through a cross-temporal study of the relationship between family, social support, and adolescent alcohol use. It was hypothesized that family and social support are indirectly related to a change in drinking behavior primarily through intervening variables, including religiosity. Mason and Windle (2001) found that religiosity might be an important “mediator” of the relationship between family relationships and adolescent substance use. Religion, along with family, school, and peer influences, affects alcohol use in adolescent. Religion was found to have a significant direct effect on adolescent drug use, because of the possibility that youth religious involvement reinforces family values and attitudes regarding alcohol consumption (Mason & Windle, 2001). Elifson (1983) found a weak to moderate relationship between religiosity and delinquency. It was maintained that religiosity is a poor predictor of deviance, due to the close ties of religion to family and moral influences. Because of this, the direct contribution of religiosity was void. Religiosity was possibly one of many influences on delinquency and it was noted that religious young people were less likely to be delinquent. However, this was more attributable to the type of family and friends religious youth have. Due to the various intervening factors that motivate a youth’s religious participation, religiosity’s effect as an independent variable was found to be statistically insignificant. The support of family and friends often leads to a youth’s participation in the conventional activities, such as religious practices. Rhodes and Reiss (1970) conducted a cross-sectional, multivariate analysis of the combined interrelationships between religious orientation, individual and family participation, age, race, sex, SES, and nuclear family structure. The results indicated that parent church attendance had a direct relationship to delinquency. Further, children whose parents attend the same
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church as they do displayed lower levels of delinquency. Delinquency and truancy rates were higher for youth who did not have a specified religious affiliation. Based on these findings, Rhodes and Reiss (1970) concluded that delinquency is not dependent on religious affiliation or participation, but there is a definite relationship between the two. Again, the elements of family participation, family structure, and parent interaction must be examined to get a firmer grasp of the issues that surround religiosity and juvenile delinquency.
SECULAR SANCTIONS Cochran (1994) found additional support for the findings that the effects of religion on delinquency lessened when secular social controls are present. The potential spurious nature of the relationship was questioned and the effects of indicators of impulsivity and sensation seeking, moral influence, and social control were controlled for. Cochran (1994) found that religious participation and religious salience are strong and significant predictors only for alcohol and tobacco use. However, the correlation between religiosity and deviance was found to be spurious. For every category of delinquency, the effect of religiosity variables declined when social control factors, such as the possibility of social sanctions for acts, were introduced. For acts such as assault, the effect of religiosity was reduced to insignificance. Cochran (1994) found that a “blanket impact” of religion on delinquency is an overgeneralization. However, a significant effect of religiosity on deviance should be limited to legal substance use, such as tobacco and alcohol where there are limited secular social controls. Cochran (1994) argued that social control variables are more useful in explaining or impacting all the measured forms of delinquent acts. Benda (1995) hypothesized that status offenses, alcohol, and drug use were more influenced by religiosity than person and property crimes. It was hypothesized that the impact of religiosity would be reduced to insignificance when social control and other social support factors were introduced. Little support was found for the hypothesis that drug use and drug abuse are more impacted by religiosity than property crimes or crimes against persons. However, Benda (1995) found religiosity to be modestly related to certain forms of delinquency. There was a possible relationship between religiosity and delinquency, but no more than the relationships between delinquency and other variables of social control. Hadaway (1984) examined the effects of religiosity on drug and alcohol usage, in combination with other secular sources of social control. The question was whether a relationship existed between religiosity and delinquency, after other social controls are introduced. Whether religion has a separate effect on delinquency is discussed through social context and normative climate. Hadaway (1984) believed
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that drug use is victimless and not greatly condemned by society, therefore the effect of religion should be stronger. Alcohol and drug use were more condemned by the church than by other segments of society. Higher levels of religious activity, belief salience, and orthodoxy are associated with lower levels of drug and alcohol use when there are few other constraining societal factors (Hadaway, 1984). Due to varying strengths of religiosity measures, Hadaway (1984) were weary of making generalizations regarding this relationship. This was based on their position that there is no such thing as a “simple” relationship between religion and delinquency. The impact of religiosity varies based on the moral context given to the acts through society and varies from context to context. An example of this would be the minimal independent effect of religion on aggressive delinquent behavior, such as assault. Such acts are deemed morally unacceptable by society and are constrained by secular social controls (Hadaway, 1984).
SUMMARY The outlined studies reveal that additional factors may be better explanations for delinquency or that there is no independent and statistically significant relationship between delinquency and religiosity. For many of the studies, religiosity did not have a significant or independent effect because delinquency was more attributable to they types of peer and family interactions. Further, religiosity was only found to be significant in that it reinforces family values, but does not offer any additional guidance. Secular social controls were found to deter youth from delinquency because of the threat of sanctions for delinquent behavior (Hadaway, 1984). Secular social sanctions may be more visible and evident to youth, as opposed to the threat of religious sanctions. Some youth may not see religious sanctions as realistic and are skeptical of whether they will actually materialize.
RELIGIOUS ECOLOGY: MORAL COMMUNITY VERSUS SECULAR COMMUNITY It is important to emphasize the conditions within the immediate environment of the youth. The youth may be affected by the level of, or perception of, disorder within the community. Youth are more likely to be pro-social if individuals who are capable of nurturing and promoting overall wellness and religious awareness surround them. Therefore, if youth do not receive positive reinforcements through their exposure to family, friends, and institutions, they will choose negative alternatives to gain acceptance and deal with life’s struggles (Bjarnason, 1998).
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Religious ecology will be examined through: (1) moral community versus secular community; and (2) neighborhood disorder.
MORAL COMMUNITY VERSUS SECULAR COMMUNITY Stark (1982) agrees that the environment is extremely important in instilling certain values and beliefs. The goal of Stark (1982) was to test that the contradictory literature and findings were a result of the dissimilarities of the “religious ecology” of the sampled communities. It was argued that communities, where religious commitment is normal, would produce individuals that are less likely to commit deviant acts. In addition, in secularized communities, “devout” juveniles are just as likely to commit deviant acts as are “irreligious” juveniles. Stark (1982) believed that this was the reason for the previous findings that there is no effect of religion on delinquency. Many of the initial studies were conducted using secularized West Coast communities. The results of these studies could only be generalized to similar communities. However, studies conducted in other parts of the country have yielded strong results regarding the effect of religiosity on juveniles. According to Stark (1982), previous findings have been so contradictory because of the variations in moral climates. Individual religiosity only constrains delinquency when there is a moral community that can reinforce religious convictions. Thus, community-level religiosity is more important than individuallevel religiosity. Stark reiterated these findings in a 1983 Presidential Address to The Association for the Sociology of Religion. Stark reemphasized the importance of a juvenile’s surroundings (moral community) and the notion that individuals select friends that hold similar beliefs. Furthermore, a moral community makes it possible for religiosity to have a strong effect on the youth. Stark urged his colleagues to seek the collective effects of religion and stop treating religiosity as an individual trait. In agreement with Stark (1982), and Tittle and Welch (1983) hypothesized that the extent to which religiosity influences conformity varies directly with general normative dissensus in a given context, and with normative dissensus concerning specific offenses. Tittle and Welch (1983) defined normative dissensus as the underlying dimension that reflects social guidance. The emphasis is placed on social contexts, religious contexts, and abiding by religious norms. Individuals within a religious context tend to be less prone to delinquency from fear of losing respect within their religious community. Tittle and Welch (1983) found support for the ability of religious involvement to constrain deviant behavior. Religiosity increased in significance when “secular
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moral guidelines” were unavailable, or had lost their influence on deviance. Individual religiosity had more of a constraining effect on deviance within secularized and socially disorganized contexts. These secularized and socially disorganized environments did not have the capacity to produce the conformity of social norms, thus the religious effects on deviance increased because there were no other social factors to intervene. This contradicts the moral community findings of Stark (1982) in that the moral community does not encourage the effect of religiosity. Tittle and Welch stated that their explanation requires further research utilizing more and “better” data. Cochran and Akers (1989) contradicted the findings of both Stark (1982), and Tittle and Welch (1983) in a study of the Hellfire Hypothesis (religiosity ensures conformity to its beliefs, rites, and rituals through the threat of hellfire for sinners), the Antiasceticism Hypothesis (behaviors that violate ascetic values, but are not consistently disapproved of in secular settings such as premarital sex, are more likely to be affected by religiosity), the Norm Qualities Hypothesis (deviance is affected by the normative climate of religious denomination), and the Moral Communities Hypothesis (deviance relates to the moral and religious climate of surroundings-religious communities). This research focused on these hypotheses as they may relate to marijuana and alcohol use. Cochran and Akers (1989) found that there is a weak correlation between religiosity and alcohol use. There was even less of a correlation between religiosity and marijuana use. The effect of religiosity on alcohol use varied based on the normative climate of various religious affiliations. There was no denominational difference in attitudes toward marijuana usage because almost all denominations disapprove of marijuana use. For marijuana use, no support was found for the moral community hypothesis. Weak support was found in reference to alcohol use and the moral community hypothesis (Cochran & Akers, 1989). Cochran and Akers (1989) concluded that there is a direct inverse relationship between religiosity and delinquent behavior. The main focus was discovering the social contexts that condition this religious influence. The assumption was made that the relationship between religiosity and delinquency would be the same under various conditions. No support was received for the notion that the impact of religiosity on delinquency is most evident in religious communities. Future research is essential to provide a more accurate measure of religiosity and delinquency under various conditions to see if this holds true. Stark (1996) furthered his previous findings (1982) in a reexamination of the 1969 findings of Hirschi and Stark. In this study, Hirschi and Stark reported that religious practice and beliefs do not have an impact on delinquent behavior. Stark examined how it is possible for religiosity to limit delinquent behavior in some communities and not others. In examining this, religiosity
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was ignored as an individual trait, and viewed as a social structure and a group property. Stark (1996) found that religiosity must be nurtured by social environment to produce conformity to the norms and be accepted by the majority within that environment. Youth are well aware of the norms within their peer groups. If these peers are not religious, religion is not a consideration in their daily interactions with one another. A youth’s level of religiosity may be lessened by the religious indifference of peers. However, in relatively secular ecological settings, religious subgroups can help nurture a youth’s religiosity. Baier and Wright (2001) implemented the Moral Community Hypothesis in an examination of the effect of religion on crime and determine whether religious beliefs deter criminal behavior. The researchers asked two questions: (1) what is the direction and magnitude of the effect of religion on crime; and (2) why previous studies vary in the estimation of this effect. Three main hypotheses were tested: The Moral Community Hypothesis (whether more religious settings exhibit higher levels of religious deterrence), the Type-of-Crime Hypothesis (religion is a more effective deterrent of non-victim crimes than person and property crimes, based on social institutions working together as deterrents), and the Methodological Difference Hypothesis (the varying findings of previous research have resulted from methodological differences). Baier and Wright (2001) found that religion does have some deterrent effect. In reference to moral community, studies that selected more religious communities resulted in findings indicating the negative effects of religion on crime. Thus, a correlation between moral community and the effect of religiosity on crime can be inferred. Within the literature studied, support was found to indicate that religion has a greater deterrent effect on non-victim crimes. Data collected later found greater support for the deterrent effect of religion because later studies tend to use small samples with more females and non-whites. Less racially diverse samples, including majority white subjects, produce less of a deterrent effect for religiosity. Religious ecology is important with regard to the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency because the delinquent or religious ideals of youth can be nurtured by the climate within their family or neighborhood. Youth receive positive or negative reinforcement for positive or negative behaviors. From the negative reaction of others youth gauge what activities are accepted and encouraged. As Baier and Wright (2001) had found, the Moral Community frowns upon delinquent acts and encourages conventional and moral behavior. With such a moral fabric and religious foundation, a youth is not standing alone, in his or her beliefs, or isolated. Instead, the youth has the support of family and community in the choices that he or she makes.
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NEIGHBORHOOD DISORDER Evans (1995) introduced measures of social ecology and found significant effects for religion on deviance for specific measures of religiosity. The authors stressed the perception of social integration in the neighborhood and community-level disorganization. Religious effects on deviance for adults was not so much dependent on the context in which religion is being measured, but on which particular variables were implemented as religious indicators (Evans, 1995). For instance, the effect of religion may vary based on the specific form of deviance it is measured against, such as drug use, assault, or theft. However, this is not as important as what behavioral or attitudinal measures are implemented in the conceptualization and operationalization of religiosity, such as religious participation or the importance of religion. As an individual trait, religiosity had an influence on a variety of deviant acts regardless of the introduction of secular controls or social and religious contexts (Evans, 1995). The author did not find support for the Moral Community Hypothesis specifically, but entertained the notion that individual religiosity can be influenced by association with others, along with the level of order or disorder within the community. The purpose of the Johnson (2000a) study was to question the commonly held notion that disorganization lowers youth level of optimism and the availability of positive interactions and alternatives, therefore leading to the unlikelihood that youth will have a sense of religiosity. Instead, Johnson (2000a) examined the “invisible institution” of the black church and assumed that religiosity can be achieved in environments ridden with disorganization and disarray. In addition, the degree to which an individual’s religious involvement significantly mediates and buffers the effects of neighborhood disorder on youth crime was addressed through the historical and contemporary significance of the black church. Johnson (2000a) concluded that black youth who frequently attend religious services are less likely to engage in criminal activities than their peers who do not. A significant and positive relationship was found in reference to the argument that black youth living in neighborhoods characterized by disorder are more likely to engage in criminal activities compared to their counterparts living in neighborhoods characterized by order or relatively low levels of disorder. The level of the effect of the neighborhood disorder on serious crime was found to be dependent upon the level of a resident’s religious involvement. Johnson (2000a) found religious involvement to have an inverse effect on juvenile delinquency and that this single-item measure of religiosity was valid, but imperfect. Johnson (2000b) examined the theoretical backdrop of social disorganization, “resilient youth,” and how youth can “escape from the crime of inner cities.”
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Johnson (2000b) hypothesized that individual religiosity is protective in helping at-risk youth, such as those living in poor inner city areas to escape from drug use and other illegal activities. Individual religiosity was defined as the extent to which an individual is committed to the religion he or she professes and to its teachings, such that the individual’s attitudes and behaviors reflect this commitment. Johnson (2000b) further hypothesized that religious inner city Black male youth are less likely than their non-religious peers to engage in criminal and deviant activities. It was suggested that church attendance is significant across all three measures of deviance, while religious salience is not significantly related to any of the dependent variables. The authors also suggested that research in religiosity and deviance use multidimensional measures of religiosity to prevent the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency from being overlooked (Johnson, 2000b). Jang and Johnson (2001) studied neighborhood disorder and individual religiosity in relation to drug use in adolescents. Neighborhood disorder is defined in this study as conditions that “signal a breakdown of the local social order” or are “viewed as troublesome and/or threatening by its residents.” The “broken windows” metaphor is referenced in explaining how neighborhood disorder and the perception of disorder takes the ability of controlling what happens in the neighborhood away from the residents (Jang & Johnson, 2001). Residents either leave the neighborhood or remain silent out of fear of being victimized. The appearance of disarray makes the neighborhood a target for unsavory characters and unruly behavior (Jang & Johnson, 2001). Because of this neighborhood disorder, Jang and Johnson (2001) proposed that the youth are not presented with a safe haven or alternatives to the disarray and there are few positive role models. An environment for uncontrolled and unmonitored behavior is fostered. Adolescents living in such conditions are less likely to be religious because of the weakened attachment to the family and prosocial and religious institutions, such as the church (Jang & Johnson, 2001). The results indicated that the neighborhood disorder results in the availability of delinquent associates and activities. Individual religiosity lessens the positive effect of disorder on drug, alcohol, and tobacco use. Youth religiosity and an attachment to conventional institutions can serve as a survival tactic in such an environment. The effect of religiosity remained significant, although it lessened when social learning and social bond were controlled for (Jang & Johnson, 2001b).
SUMMARY The moral climate and level of disorganization of a youth’s neighborhood can influence whether or not the youth will choose positive alternatives to delinquent
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behavior and associations. It is important for youth religiosity to be reinforced by those the youth interacts with. If youth do not see that they are supported and encouraged to live a positive lifestyle, they may not see the overall benefit of such positive alternatives and behavior. This concept fits into Moral Communities Hypothesis in that youth must be surrounded by likeminded others. Further, the relative absence of likeminded others and positive role models is a trait of neighborhood disorganization.
METHODOLOGICAL AND RESEARCH ISSUES The findings regarding the relationship between religiosity and delinquency present both consistencies and inconsistencies. There is often an emphasis on the need to refine the measures of “religious factors,” and to more carefully conceptualize and construct measures that would permit greater comparability in findings. Studies have measured religiosity through religious participation, religious attitudes, the internalization of religion, and the quality of one’s religious experience as measurements of religiosity. Religiosity is also defined as a code of ethics, set of beliefs, a belief in a divine influence, and religious values. Religiosity is consistently found to be multidimensional, encompassing various factors (Miller, 2000). These factors are subject to interpretation and are unlimited which makes measurement increasingly difficult. At the same time, researchers have acknowledged religiosity as a multidimensional variable, while stating that one particular measure, such as church attendance, suffices in terms of gauging an individual’s religiosity (Brega & Coleman, 1999). Studies weight heavily on the methodological issues surrounding religiosity and delinquency. These methodological concerns cause researchers to look for more reliable measures. The primary concerns of the following studies are with the methodological issues that result in inconsistent findings. The primary concerns of Knudten and Knudten (1971) were the problems of measurement within the realms of religious research and juvenile delinquency. There was a need for greater certainty regarding the effects of religion and crime across color and socioeconomic lines. The issue with previous studies was that they looked at religion and criminal deviance in terms of preference, affiliation, observable church attendance, and other similar and unreliable variables. Knudten and Knudten (1971) suggested that future studies examine the quality of an individual’s religious commitment and experiences, the perception of the strength of religion and prayer, and the meaning of God to the individual.
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Knudten and Knudten (1971) pointed to the contrast of such studies, in comparison to those that have concluded that there is a definite relationship between religiosity and delinquency. Such inconsistencies in previous findings are partially attributed to the limited conceptualization and measurement of religiosity. Religiosity cannot be exclusively measured based upon church attendance. It is important to consider various elements, such as religious values, beliefs, and influence. However, this may still be a narrow perspective on religion. Knudten and Knudten (1971) found the relationship between religiosity and delinquency to be unclear because there has been no consistent scientific evidence regarding the connection, or lack of connection, between the two. Knudten argued that this might be resolved through more collaborative efforts, on the part of researchers, to encourage a more vast “dissemination of data.” Johnson (2000c) examined the ambiguity of the measurement of religion through a systematic review of the previous and current research regarding religiosity and juvenile delinquency. The Systematic Review (SR) is said to be an innovative review strategy that allows for a replicable assessment of specific research literature. The SR minimizes the opportunity for bias and surveys a specified period, utilizing the leading journals within the field of research. This study followed up on previous Systematic Reviews to gain insights on religion by examining and critiquing the state of the more recent literature. Johnson (2000c) intended to find out how researchers treat measures of religiosity in published studies of delinquency and whether the research methodology employed affects the research findings. For the systematic review, Johnson (2000c) identified: (1) if the relationship between religiosity and delinquency was not specified; (2) if there was no relationship between religiosity and delinquency; (3) if there was an inverse relationship; (4) if there was a positive relationship; and (5) if there was a mixed or reciprocal relationship between religiosity and delinquency. Johnson (2000c) found that 67% of the studies treated religion as the central explanatory variable. Most of the studies in the systematic review found religion to be inversely associated to delinquency. Salience and attendance were the two most frequently used variables in measuring religion. The majority of the studies used one or two measures of religion – failing to examine religion as a multidimensional variable. In general, researchers continually overlooked religious measures and did not include religious measures in general studies on delinquency. Instead, religious measures tended to only be included when the study is specifically directed toward the relationship between religiosity and delinquency. This systematic review reminds researchers that methodology has an important effect on findings and can lead to a misinterpretation of the relationships between variables.
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SUMMARY Methodological limitations are credited with the inconsistent findings of much of the previous research in the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency (Knudten & Knudten, 1971). Primarily, the operationalization of both religiosity and juvenile delinquency are the issue. Religiosity can be measured multi-dimensionally or through a single item measure. Church attendance and religious salience are two measures that capture the behavioral and attitudinal measures of religiosity. However, the behavioral measure of church attendance is also used singularly to measure religiosity. As a result, studies may conclude that religiosity has no independent effect on juvenile delinquency based on such a single item measure as church attendance. Delinquency can be measured based upon attitude towards deviance and delinquent acts. In addition, delinquency has been grouped based on seriousness of offense. Thus, the effect of religiosity may be found for some forms of delinquency but not other forms. Generalizing an overall effect of religiosity on juvenile delinquency can become difficult.
OVERALL SUMMARY A significant amount of research has been devoted to the study of the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency. Juvenile delinquency is attributed to many factors. Social bond, social control, social learning, and social disorganization are theories most often used to explain delinquent behavior. These theories suggest that delinquency is dependent upon how the youth interprets and interacts with those in their immediate environment. In other words, youth can learn both delinquent and conventional behaviors through association with family, peers, and institutions. There is a question of whether delinquency is directly affected by the association, bonding, and attachment of the youth to individuals and institutions or if the religiosity of the youth is the primary factor. The emphasis on youth interaction with conventional individuals and the level of social disorganization underlines the importance of the religious climate in the community. Unreligious peers and family members may ostracize religious youth. Therefore, the youth will learn that conventional behaviors are not rewarded and adjust the behaviors accordingly. In a religious environment, conventional activities and behaviors are stressed and supported. Youth are nurtured and encouraged to seek family and peer approval through conventional activities. The opinions of family and peers are important in that they mold and shape the youth’s frame of mind, giving them
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a point of reference from which they can decipher which behaviors get positive reactions. The various measures of religiosity and juvenile delinquency have resulted in inconsistent findings. Overall, there is a relationship between religiosity and delinquency. The previous studies that have found no relationship between religiosity and delinquency tend to use a different methodology than those studies that found a relationship. For instance, attendance to religious services and religious salience are the more common measures of religiosity. In terms of delinquency, there are numerous acts that can be defined as delinquent. Some researchers make the distinction between drug offenses and violent offenses. This may result in religiosity having a greater influence on one form of delinquency than another, while additional delinquent acts are not measured. Thus, varying measures influence what studies have indicated regarding the relationship between the religiosity and delinquency. This relationship may be uncovered in an analysis of some forms of delinquency and not others. The present study will test the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency. Social bond, social control, social learning, and social disorganization theory refer to the level of interaction, attachment, and influence between the youth and the family and community. There are numerous factors that impact a youth’s ability to choose from delinquent and conventional activities. The effect of religiosity on juvenile delinquency is important in developing and nurturing moral standards and religious and conventional alternatives for youth. The relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency will be considered separate from the influence of the more secular concepts of social bond, social control, social learning, and social disorganization.
METHODOLOGY The purpose of the present study is to examine the relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency. A secondary analysis of data from Wave V of the National Youth Survey (Elliott, 1980) was conducted. The National Youth Survey is sponsored by the National Institute for Mental Health and the Office of Juvenile Justice Delinquency Prevention. National Youth Survey data was collected for three purposes: (1) to estimate the prevalence and incidence of delinquency and drug use among U.S. adolescents; (2) to assess causal relationships between drug use and delinquency; and (3) to test a comprehensive theory of delinquency (Samaha, 1998). This National Youth Survey (NYS) has been conducted eight times from 1976 to 1989 using a nationally representative probability sample of youth aged 11–17
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in 1976 (Elliott, 1980). Through a panel survey, the youth were interviewed once a year from 1976 to 1981, and irregularly until 1989. A multistage cluster sampling technique was implemented to create a representation of U.S. households. An individual within each selected household was interviewed in person (Samaha, 1998). The NYS shows how youth behaviors and attitudes can change over time, from adolescents into adulthood. Therefore, it is important to use data that most closely fit the general purpose of this study: to examine the influence religion has on the behavior of youth. Waves VI, VII, and VIII were conducted when youth were in early adulthood, as such, many of the interview questions pertain to behaviors and attitudes closely associated with spousal familial ties and career. Given this, Wave V of the NYS was selected because respondents were ages 15–21. This age group is important because the oldest respondents are in early adulthood and the younger respondents are in later stages of adolescents (Johnson, 2000a). In this age range, respondents have begun to form their own opinions and beliefs outside of those of their parents and families. Participation in activities is based more on free will than parental persuasion. In this regard, age of respondent was considered to be a factor in determining whether the effect of religiosity on delinquency is a reflection of the actual respondent or on the influence of the family on the respondent (Benda & Toombs, 2000; Miller, 2000). Table 1 shows the demographic information for the sample. The average age of respondent is 17.87, with a range of 15–21. Most of the respondents are white (19%) with a fairly even distribution of males (53%) and females (47%). The majority of respondents report living in a suburban/rural area (64%) rather than an urban area (23%). Finally, 80% of the youth report living in a two-parent household with the majority of the primary wage earners achieving at least a high school education. Specifically, 24% have below a high school education; 29% earned a high school education or equivalent; 17% report some college; 10% received a college degree; and 6% received a post graduate degree. In sum, the respondents can be described as 17–18 year old white males, from two-parent households, with a principle wage earner education at the high school or equivalent level, and who live in suburban/rural areas.
PRIOR RESEARCH USING WAVE V OF THE NYS Two prior studies used Wave V data in a study involving youth and religiosity. Jang and Johnson (2001b) used Waves III-V and a portion of Wave I in a study of the relationship between neighborhood disorder, individual religiosity, and adolescent illicit drug use. Jang and Johnson (2001b) measured religiosity
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Table 1. Descriptive Statistics for Socio-Demographic Variables. Variable Age 16 18 20 21 Mean Ethnicity Non-white White Gender Female Male
Number
Percent (%)
509 527 492 197 17.87
29.5 30.6 28.6 11.4
364 1361
21 79
807 918
47 53
Area of residence Urban Suburb/rural Missing
391 1096 238
23 64
Household 1 parent 2 parent Missing
107 1386 232
6 80
420 494 286 174 108
24 29 17 10 6
Parent education Below high school High school/GED 1–3 yrs. college College grad Post grad degree
in terms of attendance, participation, and salience: (1) frequency of attending religious services; (2) importance of religion in respondent’s life; (3) time spent on community-based religious activities on weekends; and (4) the importance of involvement in these community-based activities. Delinquency was measured through the frequency and seriousness of 35 non-drug related acts. Beliefs regarding delinquent behavior were measured along with delinquent association. Age, race, sex, place of residence, family income, and background of family disruption were controlled for. Johnson (2000a) used Wave V to study the relationship between black youth, attachment to the Church, and neighborhood disorder. Johnson measured neighborhood disorder through how much of a problem eight situations, including vandalism, are in the respondent’s neighborhood. How often the respondent attends
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church was used as the religious involvement of religiosity. Johnson (2000a) cited previous research in indicating that such single item measures of religiosity have been used to address the relationship between delinquency and religiosity. In addition, Johnson (2000a) attempted to study religiosity through behavioral measures as opposed to attitudinal measures. Family involvement, perceived closeness to family, and family listens to problems were used to measure family attachment. Time spent with deviant peers was used as a measure of deviant peer association and conventional attitudes were measured through beliefs associated with delinquent acts. Delinquency was measured through a 19-item combined scale of general crime and broken into minor and serious crime, including felony assault and theft. Johnson (2000a) only used categorical responses, frequency of delinquency and drug use offenses were not used. Socio-demographic variables included age, sex, family class, family intactness, and family size. The current study will add to the existing studies by considering two measures of religiosity and focusing on delinquent and criminal activity. Specifically, this study will investigate the following research hypotheses: (1) Youth who are more likely to attend religious services are less likely to engage in delinquent behavior. (2) Youth who view religion as more important are less likely to engage in delinquent behavior. (3) Youth who are more likely to attend religious services are less likely to have a positive attitude toward delinquency. (4) Youth who view religion as more important are less likely to have a positive attitude toward delinquency.
MEASUREMENT Religiosity is the primary independent variable of interest and is measured in two ways. First, is the attendance to religious services which is a single statement followed by a five-point response scale ranging from “never” to “several times a week.” The importance of religion is the second measure. Specifically, the survey asks “how important is religion” and respondents select from a five-point response scale ranging from “not important” to “very important.” Juvenile delinquency, the dependent variable, is measured in several ways capturing the extent to which the respondents engaged in delinquent acts and their perception of how wrong it is for one to engage in a variety of delinquent behavior. Factor analyses were performed to create the specific dependent variables used for the analysis.
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The NYS provides questions that address the perception and frequency of committing delinquent and criminal acts. Instead of looking at a single item measure for the dependent variable, a combination of measures was used and multiple versions were tested. Correlation matrices were performed to detect those measures with a correlation of 0.4 and above. A series of factor analyses were conducted to determine the appropriate factors to measure the intended concepts. Based on the factor loadings, measures were extracted with Eigen values greater than 1.0 producing two dependent variables: perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior and actual criminal activity. Perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior consists of the combined measures of “how wrong is it for someone to”: “break into a vehicle (0.807),” “cheat on a (school) test (0.612),” “hit someone (0.654),” “sell drugs (0.698),” “drink alcohol (0.574),” “use marijuana (0.651),” “steal something over $5 (0.797),” “steal something over $50 (0.769),” and “destroy property (0.758),” as shown in Table 2. The matrix response set for each variable consists of a four-point scale ranging from “not wrong” to “very wrong.” The original range was maintained by dividing the sum of the variables by the total number of variables in the factor, producing an alpha coefficient of 0.8486. Table 2. Factor Analysis Identifying Dependent Variable. Factor
Factor Loading
Perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior How wrong is it for someone to . . . Break into a vehicle Cheat on a (school) test Hit someone Sell drugs Drink alcohol Use marijuana Steal something over $5 Steal something over $50 Destroy property Actual criminal activity What is the rate at which you . . . Damaged property Sold marijuana Stolen something over $5 Stolen something over $50 Stolen a vehicle
Eigen Value 4.494
0.807 0.612 0.654 0.698 0.574 0.651 0.797 0.769 0.758 2.272 0.639 0.699 0.715 0.672 0.641
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Table 2 also shows the Eigen value and factor loadings for the variables used combined in the factor analysis for actual criminal activity. Respondents are asked at what rate they committed the following criminal acts: “damaged property (0.639),” “sold marijuana (0.699),” “stolen something more than $5 (0.715),” “stolen something more than $50 (0.672),” and “stolen a vehicle (0.641).” A matrix response set ranges from “never” to “2–3 times a day.” There was an attempt to maintain the original variable range of 1–9 by dividing the sum of the variables by the total number of variables in the factor. However, the range for the factor of actual criminal activity is 1–4 because of the variations among the frequency to which an individual may have engaged in one activity but not another. This range can still be interpreted as higher numbers indicating higher frequency of engagement in actual criminal activity. This factor produced an alpha coefficient of 0.5872. Previous research has indicated an influence of the family, secular social controls, neighborhood disorganization, and peer influence on youth behavior. To test the impact these factors may have on the relationship between youth deviance, criminal activity, and religiosity, the following variables are controlled for: social disorganization, social learning, social bond, and social control. The NYS also provides questions that address the conditions within the respondent’s environment and what types of activities the respondent’s peers engage in. Social disorganization and social learning are not single-item measures. The appropriate correlation matrices and factor analyses were conducted, resulting in the use of a combination of measures. Table 3 shows the variables combined to produce a factor for Social disorganization and social learning. The variable social disorganization (Eigen value = 3.660) combines: “abandoned houses (0.658),” “assaults/muggings (0.785),” “burglaries/thefts (0.728),” “run down buildings (0.664),” “sex assaults/rapes (0.762),” “vandalism (0.754),” and “winos/junkies (0.701).” A three-point response matrix ranges from “not a problem” to “problem.” The original range was maintained by dividing the sum of the measures by the total number of measures in the factor, the alpha coefficient is 0.8414. Table 3 also reveals an Eigen value of 3.969 for Social learning. Social learning combines the items which ask respondents how many of their friends have: “sold drugs (0.676),” “destroyed property (0.724),” “hit someone (0.617),” “stolen something over $5 (0.780),” “stolen something over $50 (0.786),” “suggest respondent break the law (0.650),” “use marijuana (0.585),” and “broken into a vehicle (0.785).” A five-point response matrix ranges from “none of them” to “all of them.” The original range was maintained by dividing the sum of the measures by the total number of measures in the factor, the alpha coefficient is 0.8150.
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Table 3. Factor Analysis Identifying Control Variables. Factor
Factor Loading
Social disorganization
Eigen Value 3.660
What conditions are present in respondent’s neighborhood . . . Abandoned houses 0.658 Assaults/muggings 0.785 Burglary/theft 0.728 Rundown buildings 0.664 Sexual assault/rape 0.762 Vandalism 0.754 Winos/junkies 0.701 Social learning How many friends have . . . Sold drugs Destroyed property Hit someone Stolen something over $5 Stolen something over $50 Suggest respondent break law Use marijuana Broken into a vehicle
3.969 0.676 0.724 0.617 0.780 0.786 0.650 0.585 0.785
Social bond is measured through the single-item measure of respondents’ perceptions of closeness to the family. This single-item measure of Social bond is appropriate based on previous research that has used similar single-item measures. Johnson (2001a, b) utilized the perceived closeness of family, referred to as family bonding and family attachment, as a measure of social bond. This is an important measure because family attachment is arguably the most basic and important form of attachment. Hennessey Hayes (1997) did not measure family attachment as an indicator of social bond, but asserted that the diminished quality of family relationships signifies “the breakdown in conventional social bonds.” Social bond is measured through whether or not the respondent feels close to family. Respondents choose from a response range of “strongly disagree” to “strongly agree.” Secular social control is measured by asking respondents if it is most important that family and friends have a good impression of them. Respondents choose from a response range of “strongly disagree” to “strongly agree.” This measure is included because the opinions and expectations of family and friends often provide either positive or negative reinforcement to youth behavior (Stark, 1984). Therefore, opinions and expectations potentially have the most impact on behavior when the youth values and seeks approval (Stark, 1984).
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ANALYSIS The relationship between religiosity and juvenile delinquency will be examined through descriptive statistics and appropriate bi-variate analysis. A multi-variate analysis will be conducted if the bi-variate relationships are found to be significant.
LIMITATION A limitation in using Wave V of the National Youth Survey is the reliance on the operationalization and conceptualization of the original researcher. However, based on prior research, the delinquency and religiosity measures are believed to be appropriate for the purpose of this study. A second limitation is the fact that the study is based on self-reported delinquency which relies heavily on respondent memory. In studying youth delinquency, self-report studies are effective in gauging the frequency and occurrence of deviance that may not have resulted in an arrest or other sanction. When asking respondents about current beliefs regarding delinquency and religiosity, the beliefs reported are not necessarily those that the respondents adhered to at the time of the commission of the acts. An issue may be how such attitudes and beliefs would have impacted the past commission and how it could prevent the future commission of delinquent acts (Menard & Elliott, 1994).
RESULTS Several 2 and regression analyses were employed to examine the following hypotheses: (1) Youth who are more likely to attend religious services are less likely to have a positive attitude toward delinquency. (2) Youth who view religion as more important are less likely to have a positive attitude toward delinquency. (3) Youth who are more likely to attend religious services are less likely to engage in delinquent behavior. (4) Youth who view religion as more important are less likely to engage in delinquent behavior. This section will summarize the results of the bi-variate and multi-variate models and will be organized by examining each dependent variable separately.
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Table 4. Perceptions Toward Deviant and Criminal Behavior. Attendance Religious Services
Not wrong (1.00) A little wrong (2.00) Wrong (3.00) Very wrong (4.00)
Never
Several Times Year
Once or Twice Month
Once Week
Several Times Week
Total
13 69% 149 38% 213 22% 12 10%
4 21% 100 25% 209 22% 13 11%
1 5% 70 18% 182 19% 14 12%
0 0% 65 16% 270 28% 35 30%
1 5% 10 3% 90 9% 43 37%
19 100% 394 100% 964 100% 117 100%
Note: 2 = 195.522, Significant @ the 0.05 level. ␥ = 0.408.
DELINQUENCY: PERCEPTIONS TOWARD DEVIANT AND CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR Table 4 presents the results concerning the first measure of religiosity, attendance religious services. The greatest number of respondents, regardless of religious attendance, responded in the third category of the “wrongness” scale, indicating they view deviance and criminal behavior as “wrong.” Among those who perceive deviance and criminal behavior as “wrong” there is little variation with regards to religious attendance. To illustrate, 22% have never attended, 22% report attending “several times a year,” 19% report attending “once or twice a month,” 28% report attending “once a week,” and 9% report attending “several times a week.” However, there is some variation with those who view deviance and criminal activity as “not wrong” with the majority (69%) having “never” attended religious services. This is compared with those who view deviance and criminal behavior as “very wrong” with the majority of respondents (67%) attending religious services at least once per week. The bi-variate relationship is statistically significant (2 = 195.522) at the 0.05 level. Table 5 presents the results concerning the other measure of religiosity, importance of religion. The greatest number of respondents, regardless of religious attendance, responded in the third category of the “wrongness” scale which is “wrong.” Of those who view deviance and criminal activity as “wrong,” 5% reported that religion is “not important,” 13% reported that religion is “not too important,” 30% reported that religion is “somewhat important,” 26% reported that religion is “pretty important,” and 26% reported that religion is “very important.” There is little variation in those who view deviance and criminal
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Table 5. Perceptions Toward Deviant and Criminal Behavior. Importance of Religion
Not wrong (1.00) A little wrong (2.00) Wrong (3.00) Very wrong (4.00)
Not Important
Not too Important
Somewhat Important
Pretty Important
Very Important
Total
7 37% 34 8% 51 5% 0 0%
5 26% 105 27% 126 13% 10 9%
6 32% 141 36% 286 30% 15 13%
1 5% 69 18% 246 26% 14 12%
0 0% 45 11% 253 26% 77 66%
19 100% 394 100% 962 100% 116 100%
Note: 2 = 223.567, Significant @ the 0.05 level. ␥ = 0.449.
activity as “not wrong” with 37% reporting that religion is “not important,” 26% reporting that religion is “not too important,” 32% reporting that religion is “somewhat important,” and 5% reporting that religion is “pretty important.” This is compared with those who view deviance and criminal behavior as “very wrong” with the majority of respondents (66%) reporting that religion is “very important.” This example illustrates that there is a positive relationship indicating, the more a respondent perceives deviant and criminal behavior as “wrong,” the more the respondent perceives religion as important. The differences found in the cross-tabular presentation are statistically significant (χ2 = 223.567) at the 0.05 level. The multi-variate analyses, Table 6, indicate that the aforementioned bi-variate relationships between the two measures of religiosity and one’s perceptions towards deviant and criminal behavior are maintained. The direction of the relationship is positive between both perceptions towards deviant and criminal behavior and attendance religious services and the importance of religion. Table 6 also reveals significant relationships with the following variables and the dependent variables: age, ethnicity, social bond, social learning, social disorganization, and social control. A positive relationship is revealed with regard to the relationship between social bond, social disorganization, and perceptions towards deviance and criminal activity. The relationship indicates that the respondents with a greater sense of social bond, closeness to family, and who live in neighborhoods characterized by conditions of disorganization, have a greater perception of the “wrongness” of deviance and criminal activity. An inverse relationship is uncovered between ethnicity, social learning, social control, age, and perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior. This indicates that older respondents, white respondents, and those who report having more
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Table 6. Ordinary Least Squares Regression Models Examining Perceptions Toward Deviant and Criminal Behavior by Attendance Religious Services and Importance of Religion. Variable
Perceptions Toward Deviant
Attendance religious services Importance of religion Age Ethnicity Gender Social bond Social learning Social disorganization Social control
R2
= 0.401
0.177* – −0.113* −0.112* −0.043 0.131* −0.400* 0.068* −0.183*
Criminal Behavior R2 = 0.415 – 0.217* −0.134* −0.088* −0.032 0.121* −0.392* 0.059* −0.182*
Note: The numbers presented are standardized beta coefficients. ∗ Significant at 0.05.
friends who have committed acts of deviance and criminal activity, are less likely to perceive deviant and criminal behavior as wrong. Additionally, among respondents who view the impression of peers and parents as most important are also less likely to perceive deviant and criminal behavior as wrong. When the control variables are considered, in addition to the independent variables of attendance religious services and importance of religion, 40% of the variance in the dependent variable is accounted for (R 2 = 0.401) and 41% of the variance in the dependent variable is accounted for (R 2 = 0.415), respectfully.
DELINQUENCY: ACTUAL CRIMINAL ACTIVITY Table 7 presents the results concerning the first measure of religiosity, attendance religious services. The greatest number of respondents, regardless of religious attendance, reported behavior within the first and lowest category of the actual criminal activity scale. These respondents who commit criminal acts at a “low” frequency are more likely to have attended religious services (75%) than to “never” have attended (25%). At least half of the respondents in the “higher” level of actual criminal activity (categories 3 and 4) have “never” attended religious services. Among those in categories 3 and 4 who have attended, the level of attendance is less frequent. This cross-tabular presentation uncovers an inverse relationship between actual criminal activity and attendance religious services. Respondents with higher levels of actual criminal activity are less likely to attend religious
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Table 7. Actual Criminal Activity. Attendance Religious Services
Low 1.00 2.00 3.00 High 4.00
Not Important
Not too Important
Somewhat Important
Pretty Important
Very Important
Total
356 25% 22 44% 5 50% 3 60%
311 22% 12 24% 1 10% 2 40%
258 18% 7 14% 2 20% 0 0%
362 25% 8 16% 0 0% 0 0%
141 10% 1 2% 2 20% 0 0%
1428 100% 50 100% 10 100% 5 100%
Note: 2 = −24.385, Significant @ the 0.05 level. ␥ = −0.369.
services. The relationship is statistically significant (χ2 = −24.385) at the 0.05 level. The results of the bi-variate analysis for importance of religion and actual criminal activity are reported in Table 8. Respondents within the first and lowest category of actual criminal activity are more likely to perceive religion as “pretty” to “very important” (48%) as opposed to “not too” and “somewhat important” (46%) or “not important” (6%). Respondents within the second category of actual criminal activity are more likely to perceive religion as “not too” to “somewhat important” (72%) than “pretty” to “very important” (18%) or “not important” (10%). Respondents in the third category of actual criminal activity are more likely to perceive religion as “not too” to “somewhat important” (40%) than “pretty” to “very important” (30%) Table 8. Actual Criminal Activity. Importance of Religion
Low 1.00 2.00 3.00 High 4.00
Not Important
Not too Important
Somewhat Important
Pretty Important
Very Important
Total
81 6% 5 10% 3 30% 2 40%
230 16% 14 28% 1 10% 1 20%
423 30% 22 44% 3 30% 0 0%
319 22% 7 14% 2 20% 2 40%
372 26% 2 4% 1 10% 0 0%
1425 100% 50 100% 10 100% 5 100%
Note: 2 = −43.468, Significant @ the 0.05 level. ␥ = −0.440.
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Table 9. Ordinary Least Squares Regression Models Examining Actual Criminal Activity by Attendance Religious Services and Importance of Religion. Variable
Actual Criminal Activity R2
Attendance religious services Importance of religion Age Gender Ethnicity Social bond Social learning Social disorganization Social control
= 0.332
−0.007 – −0.066* 0.068* 0.043 0.004 0.546* −0.015 0.040
R2 = 0.332 – −0.019 −0.066* 0.067* 0.040 0.005 0.543* −0.014 0.039
Note: The numbers presented are standardized beta coefficients. ∗ Significant at 0.05.
or “not important” (30%). Respondents in the fourth and highest category of actual criminal activity perceive religion as “pretty important” (40%) or “not important” (40%) as opposed to “not too important” (20%). There is an inverse relationship between actual criminal activity and importance of religion. Respondents with lower levels of actual criminal activity perceive religion as more important. The relationship is statistically significant (χ2 = −43.468) at the 0.05 level. The multi-variate analysis in Table 9 indicates that the aforementioned bi-variate relationships between actual criminal activity and attendance religious services and actual criminal activity and importance of religion are not maintained. Table 9 does reveal significant relationships between age, gender, and social learning with the dependent variable of actual criminal activity. Specifically, there is an inverse relationship between age and actual criminal activity indicating that older respondents have lower frequencies of self-reported criminal activity. The relationship between gender and actual criminal activity is positive indicating that male respondents have higher frequencies of actual criminal activity. There is a positive relationship between social learning and actual criminal activity which indicates that respondents with more friends who have committed deviant and criminal acts have higher frequencies of self-reported criminal activity. The multi-variate relationships account for 33% (R 2 = 0.332) of the variance in actual criminal activity.
RESULTS SUMMARY The variations found in the cross-tabular presentation for perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior and attendance religious services and for perceptions
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toward deviant and criminal behavior and importance of religion are statistically significant (χ2 = 195.522; χ2 = 223.567, respectfully) at the 0.05 level. Likewise, the variations found in the cross-tabular presentation for actual criminal activity and attendance religious services for actual criminal activity and importance of religions are statistically significant at the 0.05 level (χ2 = −24.385; χ2 = −43.468, respectfully) and in the expected direction. Only the bi-variate relationships regarding perceptions toward deviance and criminal activity are maintained in the multi-variate models. The multi-variate analyses also show significant relationships between age, ethnicity, social bond, social learning, social disorganization, social control, and perceptions toward deviance and criminal behavior. In addition, the multi-variate analyses show significant relationships between age, gender, social learning, and actual criminal activity.
DISCUSSION Despite the constant concern, and continuous research, regarding religiosity and delinquency, empirical findings remain largely inconsistent. This study examined the effect of religiosity on delinquency by measuring religiosity as importance of religion and attendance religious services. Delinquency was measured by perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior and actual criminal activity. Some support was found for the relationship between religiosity and delinquency. As hypothesized, the bivariate analyses indicated a positive relationship between both measures of religiosity and perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior, and an inverse relationship between the measures of religiosity and actual criminal activity. Youth and young adults who attend religious services and find religion to be important are more likely to view minimal behavior as wrong and less likely to commit acts of deviance. These findings support those of Cochran (1988), Brega and Coleman (1999), Bjarnason (1998), Benda and Toombs (2000), and Miller (2000). Cochran (1988) found variability in the effects that religiosity has on different forms of deviance. Thus, he made the distinction between secular constraints, of social standards, and religiosity. Cochran (1988) concluded that, without offense specificity, religiosity and delinquency are inversely related. Brega and Coleman (1999), Benda and Toombs (2000), and Miller (2000) found that religiosity, with consideration given to the age of respondent, has a significant impact on delinquency. Bjarnason (1998) found that religion encourages more conventional activities and interaction with more conventional individuals. Therefore, religiosity has a direct impact on youth. Although the present study and previous studies support a relationship
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between religiosity and delinquency, different aspects of religiosity were measured. These previous studies measured religiosity through participation and commitment to religious services, secular versus religious constraints, religious beliefs, and attachment to conventional or religious institutions and individuals. This study measured religiosity through the importance of religion to the respondent and the frequency of attendance to religious services. These findings contrast those of Albrecht (1977), Mason and Windle (2001), and Elifson (1983). Albrecht (1977) found that peer expectations and parental attachment serve as better explanations for delinquency than religiosity. Mason and Windle (2001) found that religion is only appropriate as an intervening variable, but the primary relationship is between family relationships and adolescent substance use. Elifson (1983) found a weak relationship between religiosity and delinquency. Family and peer attachment are more significant and make the influence of religiosity void. The bivariate and multivariate analyses for perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior indicated that perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior are influenced by religion. The direct effects of religiosity on delinquency are significant even when additional factors, including delinquent association and socio-demographic variables, are considered (Johnson, 2001). However, the inverse relationship uncovered in the bivariate analysis for actual criminal activity is not maintained in the multivariate analysis. Instead, actual criminal activity is better explained through age, gender, and social learning. This data suggest that older respondents have lower frequencies of self-reported criminal activity. The significance of respondent age partially supports Benda and Toombs (2000), and Miller (2000). Both found that religion, in general, has a significant impact on delinquency and that the salience of religion is enhanced by the age of the respondent. In contrast with the present study, Benda and Toombs (2000), and Miller (2000) did not indicate that the effect of religiosity on delinquency is insignificant when the age of the respondent is considered. Instead, Benda and Toombs (2000) found that older respondents find religiosity to be more important because they are more likely to rely on spiritual guidance as opposed to familial guidance. Miller (2000) found that younger respondents are more impacted by religion because they are still seeking direction and relief from negative lifestyle choices. According to Benda and Toombs (2000), and Miller (2000), age has an indirect effect on delinquency because of the varying salience of religion for younger and older respondents. In reference to gender and social learning the current study found, male respondents with more delinquent friends have greater frequencies of self-reported criminal activity. This finding is consistent with those of Albrecht (1977), and Elifson (1983). Albrecht (1977) found that religious variables are influential, but
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are not strong predictors or deterrents of delinquency. Instead, peer expectations and parental attachment provide a better explanation. Therefore, Albrecht (1977) recommended the use of a multivariate model to consider the three factors of religion, peer behavior, and family relationships. Elifson (1983) found a weak to moderate association between religiosity and delinquency. Religiosity is one of the many influences on delinquency, but the types of friends and family are most important and influence the youth’s participation in both religious and delinquent activities.
LIMITATIONS AND IMPLICATIONS The secondary data analysis of the NYS limits the study to the measures made available by the original researcher. This reliance on the conceptualization and operationalization of the original researcher places limitations on the measures and furthers the methodological concerns of previous research concerning religiosity and delinquency. This study addressed some of these limitations and methodological concerns. As with 67% of the literature within the systematic review conducted by Johnson (2000c), this study treated religiosity as the central explanatory variable. Johnson (2000c) also found that salience and attendance were the two most frequent measures of religiosity. This study used these two measures to account for the multidimensionality of religion and the need for more meaningful measures, such as importance of religion (Knudten & Knudten, 1971; Miller, 2000). The use of religious attendance and religious salience are not perfect measures of religiosity because there remain other dimensions of religiosity, including religious beliefs and a belief in a higher power (Miller, 2000). These additional measures are not included in the present data. However, the measures of religiosity that are included provide a combination of perception and behavior that offers a broader interpretation of religiosity than a single-item measure would. Some researchers, including Bjarnason (1998), Brega and Coleman (1999), and Benda and Toombs (2000), find the single-item measure of religious participation to be an appropriate indicator of religious commitment. This single-item measure of religious participation, or attendance religious services, limits the scope of religiosity and does not account for the value placed on religious participation and commitment. In addition to considering the categories of delinquency to be included, this study made the distinction between actual criminal activity and perceptions toward deviance and criminal behavior. This captures the multidimensionality of delinquency and again acknowledges the importance of both perceptions and behavior. Previous researchers, including Cochran (1994), also used various indexes and categories of delinquency. A limitation in the inclusion of a range
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of variables for both measures of delinquency is that certain types of offenses, including status offenses, were omitted because of the 17–21 age range of the respondents. For example, within certain contexts, alcohol consumption is neither illegal nor deviant for 21 year old respondents. Therefore, the age of respondent and the inclusion of specific offenses influenced the self-reported frequencies and perceptions toward the acts. Further, type-of-offense specificity is a consideration when examining the overall relationship between religiosity and delinquency (Cochran, 1988). The relationship between religiosity and delinquency is supported in the bivariate analyses, for both measures of delinquency, and in the multivariate analysis for perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior. However, the multivariate analysis for perceptions toward deviant and criminal behavior uncovered additional issues concerning the impact of religiosity on the behavior of youth. The multivariate analysis indicated that social learning is one factor that better explains actual criminal activity. Within the literature that supports the relationship between religiosity and delinquency, there is an assumption that religion influences what types of peers that youth associate with (Bjarnason, 1998; Johnson, 2001). As indicated by Benda and Toombs (2000), and Miller (2000), the age of the respondent is a factor in the relationship between religiosity and delinquency. These findings do not negate the overall influence religiosity may have on delinquency, but may reinforce the notion that the influence of religiosity is far reaching. This study has left issues for future research on religiosity and delinquency. There is a need for a continual evaluation of the measures for both religiosity and delinquency. An aspect of this involves different types of religion and different denominations within religions. This may especially be true regarding the concept of “attendance religious services.” It is important to consider variations in religious services, such as family and community worship. It would be interesting to find how different types of services, such as family and community prayer services or sessions devoted to religious readings, influence youth behavior. The approach taken in this study raises issues regarding the inclusion of measures beyond general religious salience and attendance that will incorporate the differences in religions and denominations within religions. Future research regarding religiosity and delinquency should explore the significance of the age of respondent and the different types of delinquent offenses. Both age of respondent and delinquency-type are considerations when using delinquency scales. Age and delinquency-type should be accounted for to determine what impact they have on the relationship between religiosity and delinquency. Research should further examine the contrast between the influence religiosity has on the perceptions of youth regarding delinquency versus the
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influence religiosity has on actual delinquency. While religiosity has an overall influence on delinquency, the contrast between perceptions and behavior deserves further consideration. Youth with religious ties are more likely to be attached to conventional institutions and individuals and less likely to be delinquent. Research involving religiosity and delinquency is valuable for families, community leaders, and religious leaders. Understanding how religiosity influences delinquency allows families and religious and community leaders to become more proactive in providing positive religious alternatives for youth. These positive religious alternatives are centered in solidifying the foundation of religious values and beliefs that carry out into youth perceptions of self and their behavior. There must be a collaborative effort on the part of the family and the community to show youth that there are alternatives to self doubt, depression, and delinquency.
REFERENCES Agnew, R. (1993). Why do they do it? An examination of the intervening mechanisms. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 30(3), 245–266. Albrecht, S., et al. (1977). Religiosity and deviance: Application of an attitude behavior. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 16(3), 263–274. Anderson, M., & Taylor, H. F. (2000). Sociology: Understanding a diverse society. U.S.: Wadsworth. Babbie, E., & Maxfield, M. (1998). Research methods for criminal justice and criminology. CA: Wadsworth. Baier, C., & Wright, B. (2001). If you love me, keep my commandments. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 38(1), 3–21. Benda, B. (1995). The effect of religion on adolescent delinquency revisited. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 32(4), 446–466. Benda, B., & Toombs, N. (2000). Religiosity and violence: Are they related after considering the strongest predictors? Journal of Criminal Justice, 28, 483–496. Bjarnason, T. (1998). Parents, religion, and perceived social coherence. The Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion (Dec 1998), v. 37 i4. Brega, A., & Coleman, L. (1999). Effects of religiosity and racial socialization on subjective stigmatization in African American Adolescents. Journal of Adolescents, 22, 223–242. Cochran, J. (1988). Religiosity on secular and ascetic deviance. Sociological Focus, 21(4). Cochran, J., et al. (1994). Is the religiosity-delinquency relationship spurious? Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 31(1), 92–123. Cochran, J., & Akers, R. (1989). Beyond hellfire: An exploration. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 26(3), 198–225. Durkheim, E. (1897/1951). Suicide. New York: Free Press. Elifson, K., et al. (1983). Religiosity and delinquency. Criminology, 21(4), 505–527. Elliott, D. (1980). National youth survey – United States. Wave V [computer file]. ICPSR version. Boulder, CO: University of Colorado, Behavioral Research Institute [producer], 1988. Ann Arbor, MI: Inter-university Consortium for Political and Social Research [distributor], 1994.
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Elliott, D. (1985). Explaining delinquency and drug abuse. CA: Sage. Evans, L. D., et al. (1995). Impact of religion, secular controls, and social ecology . . . Criminology, 33(2), 195–213. Hadaway, K., et al. (1984). Religious involvement and drug use among urban adolescents. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 23(2), 109–128. Hayes, H. D. (1997). Using integrated theory to explain the movement into juvenile delinquency. Deviant Behavior, 18(2), 161–184. Jang, S. J., & Johnson, B. (2001). Neighborhood disorder, individual religiosity, and adolescent use of illicit drugs. Criminology, 39(1). Johnson, B., et al. (2000a). The ‘Invisible Institution’ and black youth crime. Journal of Youth Adolescence, 29(4), 479. Johnson, B., et al. (2000b). Escaping from the crime of inner cities. Justice Quarterly, 17(2). Johnson, B., et al. (2000c). A systematic review of the religiosity and delinquency literature. Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice, 16(1), 32–52. Johnson, B., et al. (2001). Does adolescent religious commitment matter? Journal Of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 38(1), 22–44. Johnston, R. (2001). Religion in society. NJ: Prentice-Hall. Knudten, M., & Knudten, R. (1971). Juvenile delinquency, crime, and religion. Review of Religious Research, 12(3). Knudten, M., et al. (1975). Social problems in a changing society. VA: Reston Publishing Co. Kornblum, W., & Julian, J. (1995). Social problems (8th ed.) NJ: Prentice-Hall. MacIntyre, A. (1996). A short history of ethics. NY: Touchstone. Mason, W. A., & Windle, M. (2001). Family, religious, school and peer influences on adolescent alcohol use. Journal of Studies of Alcohol, 62, 44–53. Menard, S., & Elliott, D. S. (1994). Delinquent bonding, moral beliefs, and illegal behavior. Justice Quarterly, 11, 173–188. Miller, L., et al. (2000). Religiosity and substance use and abuse. Journal of the American Academy of Child Adolescent Psychiatry, 39(9), 1190. Rhodes, A., & Reiss, A., Jr. (1970). The ‘Religious Factor’ and delinquent behavior. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 7, 83–98. Romig, D. (1989). Juvenile delinquency. OH: Merrill Publishing Co. Samaha, J. (1997). Criminal justice (4th ed.). MN: West Publishing Company. Snyder, H., & Sickmund, M. (1999). Juvenile offenders and victims: 1999 national report. Washington, DC: Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention. Stark, R. (1984). Religion and conformity. Sociological Analysis, 45, 273–282. Stark, R. (1996). Religion as context: Hellfire and delinquency one more time. Sociology of Religion, 57, 2. Stark, R. (2001). Sociology (8th ed.). CA: Wadsworth Publications. Stark, R., et al. (1982). Religion and delinquency: The ecology of a lost relationship. Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency (January). Tittle, C., & Welch, M. (1983). Religiosity and deviance. Social Forces, 61(3). Zanden, J. W. V. (1990). The social experience (2nd ed.). NY: McGraw-Hill.
SOCIAL CAPITAL AND THE IMPACT OF VIOLENCE AMONG EARLY ADOLESCENT AFRICAN-AMERICAN MALES Joseph B. Richardson, Jr. Few studies in criminology have examined how poor African-American families access, accumulate and utilize social capital in communities often characterized as “resource-scarce” to move their children, particularly at-risk adolescent males, away from engaging in serious violent behavior. Furthermore, few studies in criminology have examined how the utilization and capitalization process of social capital by poor families for at-risk adolescent males influence their resistance, desistance or persistent involvement in serious violent youth behavior over the adolescent life-course. Although no theoretical concept can fully explain the relationship between poverty and serious youth violence, social capital appears to be a valuable theoretical tool for examining the relationship between race, poverty, and serious youth violence.
This paper devotes particular attention to short-term developmental changes in behavior among at-risk early adolescent African-American males, specifically, through the utilization of social capital as theoretical and analytical tool to explore serious youth violence over the early-adolescent life-course. Although, no single study can fully explain how the heterogeneity and variation of social capital within schools, families and communities can account for desistance in violence or in the creation of pathways that contribute to fostering serious violent behavior among this target population, this paper attempts to systematically approach these issues using the concept of social capital as a theoretical tool for exploration and analysis.
Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 131–170 © 2005 Published by Elsevier Ltd. ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12007-2
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This paper is based on a four-year ethnographic case study of the social context of adolescent violence in schools, communities and families using a cohort group of eight early adolescent African-American males and their families. This research study was conducted in, Soulville, a poor and predominately African-American community in New York City. The sample group was comprised of a heterogeneous group of eight early adolescent African-American males (ages 12–16) all of whom attended, Soulville Junior High, a socially disorganized and resource scarce junior high school located in the Soulville community. Ethnographic participant observations were initiated in beginning of the sample group’s 7th grade year and terminated at the completion of their 10th grade year in high school. Because early adolescence typically marks the onset of delinquency, this age group was particularly important to the study. It provided the opportunity to ethnographically document the experiences of at-risk youth as they entered early adolescence and moved through the adolescent life-course.
DESCRIPTION OF SAMPLE Eight young men were used as intensive case studies for the sample. The sample group represented a diverse and heterogeneous cross-section of early adolescent male youth living in Soulville. These young men were placed in four native categories of young men in the Soulville community. The four categories were created based on ethnographic observations of youth culture in Soulville and the native linguistics or “street slang” used by adolescents in Soulville to identify members of their peer group. In addition, in-depth discussions with numerous students in the school and community to identify which young men in the sample group fell into these specific social categories. The native social categories used by students in the school and young people in the local community were broken into four distinct social categories: thugs, shotcallers, b-ball players and dolos. The term “thug” was a popular term used by Soulville youth. This social construct is a widely used term in contemporary hip hop music. The urban male bravado philosophy of “thug life” a lifestyle embraced by slain rap artists the late Tupac Shakur and the Notorious BIG, for many young men in Soulville defined their own social identities. Thugs earned their street reputations and respect by exhibiting a form of bravado which promoted an “almost fatalistic willingness to die for their respect and honor on the street.” Thugs embraced the thug philosophy of “death before dishonor.” Author Ellis Cose (2002), in his powerful social critique of African-American males in the seminal classic, The Envy of the World: On Being a Black Man in America provides a compelling argument why young
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African-American males living in urban areas across this nation have been lured to the “thug life” culture: Many young African-American men have taken this hip-hopped, thuggish character to be the essence of who and what we are. We even relish in our power as cultural trendsetters, as the ultimate arbiters of cool. But this power is of a very paradoxical sort, for though we set a substantial part of America’s cultural agenda, many of us are living marginal lives and feel incapable of surviving, much less thriving in the world beyond the hood. Yet even if the culture of entertainment were not pointing black males toward a life of mayhem and self-destruction, many of us would still feel compelled to lived the so-called “thug life.” Why? Like so much about life as a black male in America, the answer is something of a paradox: Self-destructive as the macho-street attitude can be in the long-term, in the short-term it can life preserving, which is to say that the very attitude that sends so many of us to the morgue sometimes can seem like our only hope for survival. And I mean this in a both physical and a psychological sense.
Shotcallers was also a native category used by Soulville youth and taken from contemporary hip-hop music. Shotcallers were known as street saavy young men who earned their reputation for their mastery of “urban cool.” These young men were the urban trendsetters and often set the styles and trends that other young men in the school and community imitated. Shotcallers were the pioneers in youth culture and set the standard for coolness through their style of dress, their innovative use of street slang, provocative story telling abilities, and their ability to attract girls. Unlike thugs who earned their reputations through fighting, violence and crime, within the social context of Soulville shotcallers rarely engaged in delinquent or violent behavior. However, shotcallers were still well-respected by young men and women in their peer group. Ballers in a traditional sense were known as the “jocks” or “athletes” in the community. These young men earned their reputation and street respect among their peer group through their display and mastery of superior basketball skills. Superior basketball players in the Soulville community were referred to in local jargon as “being nice in ball.” Like thousands of young African-American males living in urban areas, these young men used basketball as a form of escape from ghetto poverty. In many ghettoes across the nation, sports and entertainment, basketball is perceived by many black male youth as the only viable and legitimate means to make it out of poverty. Through participation in the numerous basketball leagues in Soulville, ballers were exposed to forms of social capital through the mentoring and supervision of older African-American men who served as coaches. Elijah Anderson often characterizes these men as “oldheads.” Ballers also accumulated cultural capital by often traveling with their respective basketball teams on national tournaments located in cities across the country. For many young men, particularly, those in the sample participation in these leagues allowed them
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to be exposed to a world outside of Soulville. Consequently, these leagues often served as “community bridges” to the mainstream. The final category in the sample group were “dolos.” Dolo an urban colloquialism derived from the phrase “to do solo” represented those young men who were typically perceived by their peer group as loners. Dolos were not attached to a specific peer group and often tried on many hats of social identity over the adolescent life-course yet no peer group appeared to be a good social fit, often resulting in young men in this group being outcast. Thus, these four native categories of young men in Soulville, were used to examine the varying heterogeneity of social capital possessed among each individual member and how social capital was accessed and deployed to achieve specific objectives and goals. These goals and objectives varied from utilizing social capital to escape ghetto poverty and violence to utilizing criminal capital to gain street respect. Using the relatively new theoretical tool, social capital (Coleman, 1990), this study examined how sample members and members of their families utilized the social resources and social relationships embedded within their social networks to resist, desist, or persist in engaging in serious violent behavior over time. How social capital is accumulated and utilized over-time, a process known as “capitalization” (Hagan, 1993), was also examined to determine whether changes in capital over the adolescent life-course influenced changes in youth behavior. Existing research on social capital and delinquency has left open many questions regarding how the heterogeneity of social capital among diverse groups of impoverished African-American male youth influences the level of participation in serious youth violence. Although social capital is an attractive concept for studying serious youth violence, few studies on social capital and youth development have managed to operationalize social capital in terms that are measureable (Furstenberg & Hughes, 1995). Furstenberg and Hughes (1995) note that, “measuring social capital is not straightforward.” Although, social scientists tend to measure social capital by the quantity and quality of social relationships, the measures are of social capital are indirect, incomplete and not comprehensive (Furstenberg & Hughes, 1995). Consequently, there is no definitive method of measuring social capital nor is there a method used to measure the accumulation of social capital over time (Hagan, 1994a, b). Because delinquency theorists and researchers do not know much about how to measure social capital or the capitalization process, current methods of operationalizing social capital and measuring it are grounded in the pioneering work on social capital conducted by Coleman (1990), Furstenberg (1995), and Hagan (1994a, b). Coleman (1990) measured social capital based social relations and social structures that facilitate some form of social action and purpose for the actor.
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However, the method that Coleman used to measure social capital was not clearly defined. Many of the measures Coleman used to measure social capital were inextricably linked to the formation of human capital. Several of the variables Coleman (1990) used to measure social capital, specifically within the family, were the presence of either two-parents or a single parent in the household. Coleman (1990) hypothesized that social capital within the family that provided a child access to adult human capital heavily depended on both the physical presence of adults in the family and on the attention given by adults to the child.
SOCIAL CAPITAL, THE AFRICAN-AMERICAN FAMILY AND SERIOUS YOUTH VIOLENCE One of primary goals of this manuscript examines the theoretical underpinnings and implications of social capital within African-American families and its impact on serious youth violence among at-risk African-American male adolescents. It has been extensively documented in the criminological literature that many poor, innercity African-American youth share similar ecological conditions that characterize poor socially disorganized neighborhoods, e.g. poor schools, lack of recreational facilities, few neighborhood “oldheads” to regulate behavior, high unemployment, deteriorating housing. These poor communities often characterized as resource deprived, translates into few sources of community-based social capital for families to draw upon that will foster the escape from ghetto poverty and the violence which so often accompanies poverty (Bursik & Grasmick, 1993; Jarrett, 1995; Sampson & Lauritsen, 1994; Shaw & McKay, 1942). Although these studies identify the relationship between ecological variables and youth violence, they fail to explore how social capital is accessed, accumulated and utilized by poor African-American families for the social benefit of their children. Few studies have examined how families utilized social capital within their own social networks (e.g. family, community residents and institutions, employment contacts) to move their children away from engaging in serious youth violence. Thus, minimal literature exists on the relationship between family-based social capital, urban AfricanAmerican families and serious youth violence.
SOCIAL CAPITAL AND FAMILIES Bourdieu (1973) refers to social capital as the ability of families to successfully manage the material and symbolic resources that they possess for the benefit of its membership. Furthermore, Bourdieu views family as a “collective subject” not
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a simple aggregate of individuals that makes its members “feel required to act as a united body.” Families behave in a manner that should reflect a “solidarity of interests.” According to Bourdieu it is assumed that those families that are successful in mobilizing social capital are generally more successful. Expanding on Bourdieu’s concept of family-based social capital, Furstenberg and Kaplan (2004) posed these empirical questions: How is social capital generated and accumulated within families? How do families possessing the elements of family-based social capital mobilize it in everyday life, that is, how is capital wisely or foolishly invested? What are the consequences of the possession of family-based social for the longterm welfare of children as they grow up? Why and how does social capital lead to certain forms of success? Although there have been numerous articles and studies that have analyzed social capital (Coleman, 1990; Putnam, date; Rose & Clear, 2002), few studies have explored how social capital is generated and accumulated within families. A lesser number of ethnographic research studies have explored how social capital is produced within families and its consequent influence on serious youth violence. Furstenberg and Kaplan (2004) note “how social capital is produced within families is a question that has been more assumed than examined by researchers.” Furstenberg and Kaplan (2004) also note that “all too little ethnographic work exists on the ways that parents create family worlds: rules, rituals, and routines that regulate children’s everyday behaviors and impart a sense of what is normal.” In the sociological literature, there has been a paucity of studies that specifically examined social capital, families and serious youth violence. Few studies have utilized the concept of family-based social capital to examine serious youth violence among sub-populations of at-risk African-American male youth. Although existing qualitative data indicate that a range of creative family strategies enhance the likelihood that adolescents will complete high school, minimal existing qualitative data have highlighted the creative family strategies that enhance the likelihood that at-risk adolescent youth will avoid engaging in serious violence (Jarrett, 1995). In light of the burgeoning literature on family-disruption and delinquency (Sampson, 1987, 1995) within the sociological and criminological literature, much of that literature in fact, has been limited to exploring the causal relationship between black family disruption and juvenile delinquency. Although several conceptual frames of analysis (i.e. social disorganization, subculture of violence, post-effects of slavery on black families, concentration of poverty,) have been used to explain the relationship between black family disruption and juvenile delinquency, few theorists have incorporated social capital theory as a conceptual framework for analysis.
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Contemporary explanations for the link between black family disruption and serious youth violence among at-risk African-American male youth, has widely focused on the absence of fathers within African-American households. Sampson (1987) argues that urban black violence and black family disruption are largely mediated by black male joblessness. This argument is contextualized from the standpoint that black male unemployment results in the desertion or abandonment of black males from their households which in turn increases the prevalence of poor single-female headed households. As a result, poor singlefemale headed households typically lack the agency, informal social controls and social capital to monitor and supervise the behavior of black male youth. The outcome of the scarcity of black men within urban families lends itself to substantial increases in black family disruption which correspondingly increases rates of black murder and robbery, especially among juveniles (Sampson, 1987). Other arguments on the causes of serious youth violence have been premised on marital and family disruption within black families often contributes to a decrease in formal social controls at the community-level. For example, Bloom (1966) found that areas with high family disruption had low rates of participation in community politics, recreation and educational activities. Kellam (1982) found that black single-parent mothers in a poor community in Chicago participated less often in social and political organizations than did mothers in two-parent families. Sampson (1987) notes that “this evidence suggests that communities with pronounced family disruption may experience a weakening of formal and voluntary organizations, many of which play crucial roles in linking local youths to wider social institutions and in fostering desired principles and values.” Family disruption within black communities often leads to attenuated informal social controls as well (Felson, 1986; Felson & Cohen, 1980; Sampson, 1986). These informal social controls include the enforcement of rules, rituals and norms within the household (i.e. curfew, chores, grounding or punishment for inappropriate behavior etc.). Other examples include neighbors and community residents assuming responsibility for supervising, monitoring and regulating youth activities. Cohen and Felson (1979) argued that two-parent households provide increased supervision and guardianship not only for their children and household property but also for public activities in the community. Furthermore, Cohen and Felson (1979) argue, “the single-parent household gives the community only one parent to know and hence reduces the potential linkages which can be invoked for informal social control.” None of these issues regarding family disruption, single-female headed households and the decrease of both formal and informal social controls has
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been the subject of research studies in serious youth violence and delinquency among African-American youth that explicitly employs the concept of social capital. To truly understand whether these arguments are plausible explanations for juvenile delinquency and serious youth violence, the answers to these questions highly depend on gaining better information on what goes on inside poor AfricanAmerican families. This is a topic that requires close daily inspection of the daily life of parents and children, as well as how parents manage the interaction of family with the world beyond the household (Furstenberg & Kaplan, 2004). According to Coleman (1990), the most striking element of a structural deficiency of social capital in modern families is the single-parent family. However, Coleman also acknowledged that if two-adults are physically present yet do not provide strong relations with children than a lack of social capital also may exist. Furthermore, Coleman addressed the concept of community bridging and measuring social capital noting that if parents form relationships with other adults that do not cross generations or from other sources social capital is also missing. Coleman also addressed measuring social capital by determining how much time parents spend with their children working on homework. This process was another means of measuring the strength of the relations between parents and children. Coleman defined this process as measuring intergenerational closure. Intergenerational closure was measured and represented by a network diagram that described the relations between parent and child and relations outside the family. Coleman used the following type of diagram to represent intergenerational closure, (a) represents the child while (b, c, d) represent two parents and a sibling.
Coleman hypothesized that the existence of intergenerational closure provides a quantity of social capital available to each parent raising children-not only in matters related to school but to other matters as well. Closure of the social structure was also determined as another form of social capital because it encouraged trustworthiness, and the proliferation of obligations and expectations. Coleman also measured the lack of social capital in the social networks of children by diagramming social networks that lacked closure. Networks without
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social closure are highlighted in the following diagram, with (a) representing the child and (b, c, d, e) representing parents, siblings and extended kin.
Social capital within the family was also measured by Coleman (1990) in terms of the following variables: (1) parental expectations, i.e. mother’s expectation of children going to college; (2) the frequency of children talking to parents about personal experiences; (3) time and effort spent by parent with child on intellectual matters; (4) single parent versus two parent families; (5) number of moves since the 5th grade, an indication that numerous moves made by a family reduced the level of social capital; (6) Number of siblings-more siblings was hypothesized to reduced the level of adult attention, thus reducing social capital; and (7) Mother working while child was young, an indication that the level of parental monitoring in critical development stages was also absence, thus reducing social capital. Social capital outside the family was measured as the parents’ relations with institutions and individuals within the community (Coleman, 1990). Voluntary relationships with organizations such as the local school PTA were used as a measure of social capital. Affiliation with organizations that produced both a public and private good constituted a significant measure of social capital. Social relations by adults with other individuals within a community constituted a measure of social capital. Coleman (1990) hypothesized that the decline in parental involvement in associations with other parents in the local school and community organizations constituted a loss of social capital to all parents connected to the school and community. The severance of those relationships weakened social capital for both parents and their children. Measures such as the quality of school and religious affiliation were also considered as measures of social capital. These measures of social capital were diagramed in network charts, similar to those identified above. Although statistical analyses were used to explain these measures to social capital outcomes, Coleman failed to descriptively explain the nature of relationships among actors within-families and in the community. In their classic study, Social Capital and Successful Development Among AtRisk Youth, Furstenberg and Hughes (1995) built on the measures established by Coleman (1990) to measure social capital within the family and outside of it. Some of the measures closely resemble the within-family measures of social capital mentioned by Coleman; while others build on his general notion of parental
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investment (Furstenberg & Hughes, 1995). The first three measures of social capital in the Furstenberg study gauged the degree of extended family exchange and support systems. It was presumed that families with stronger ties to extended family produced more social capital for at-risk youth to draw on. Like Coleman’s study, Furstenberg and Hughes included similar within-family measures of parental investment in youth such as: (1) help with homework; (2) sharing activities; (3) mother’s monitoring of child activities; and (4) mother knowing friends of her children by name or sight. Other within family measures include: Family Cohesion. Support to and from own mother. See siblings or grandparents weekly. Father in home (this included either biological or stepfather). Parents expectations of school performance. Mother’s educational aspirations for child. Mother’s encouragement of child. Mother attending school meetings. The last measure stated “mother attending school meetings” was often considered both a within family measure of social capital and also an indication of institutional involvement or extra-familial dimension. A second set of community measures used in the Furstenberg study also complimented the measures of parental community involvement used in Coleman’s study. Furstenberg and Hughes (1995) measured social capital by examining family links to the community. Social capital measures were gauged by the mother’s involvement in the extended family, church and friends. However, like Coleman’s study, Furstenberg reveals that although the study highlights involvement of parents within various social networks little was done to explain the nature of these relationships. Furstenberg (1995) noted, “the bare fact of involvement tells little about the nature of these relationships.” Consequently, in both studies there is a significant gap in the literature that fails to descriptively address the nature and quality of the relationships in the social relations that produce social capital. It is important to note that in the Furstenberg study, within-family and community-based social capital measures appeared to be strongly related to socioeconomic achievement. Specific measures of social capital that were strongly related to favorable youth outcomes were family cohesion, presence of biological father, shared activities between parents and children, mother’s educational aspirations for her child, parents knowledge of children’s friends, strong help network (extra-familial networks), residential stability, mother sees a close friend weekly, friends’ educational expectations and the quality of the school. Surprisingly in the study (Furstenberg & Hughes, 1995) within-family
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and community-based measures of social capital such as parents attendance at school meetings, parents helping with homework and child’s characterization of neighborhood were not consistently associated with successful youth development outcomes. Furstenberg and Hughes (1995) concluded that the results of their study suggested that social capital maybe a useful tool in examining and explaining how and why certain children manage to avoid disruptive and delinquent behavior. However, they also noted that there is a great need to clarify the concept of social capital and recognize the problems of thinking of social capital as a common set of measurable factors and variables. In light of the distressing factors that impact poor African-American male youth, families and communities, how poor African-American families access, generate, accumulate and deploy social capital in environments often in short supply of it to prevent at-risk African-American male youth from engaging in violence is a subject of great importance but few studies have explored this process. Most studies of communities, families, poverty and youth violence often examine social capital from a deficit model, particularly when examining the structural deficiencies of the African-American family. However, many of the creative ways that these families have used to generate social capital to move young men away from engaging in serious violent behavior can be found in their ability to utilize extended familial and fictive kinship networks. Clearly, there has been much discussion about the structural disadvantage and deficiency of single-female headed households in poor communities to provide informal social controls for at-risk youth (Coleman, 1990; Sampson, 1987). Coleman (1990) described single-female headed households as a “structural deficiency in family-based social capital.” However, this perspective is quite limited because it fails to acknowledge how single-female headed households often are extraordinary managers of social capital when accessing and deploying social resources that move at-risk youth away from serious violent behavior. One of the most under-explored areas in the family-based social capital and youth violence literature has been an emphasis on the extended familial and fictive kinship relationships that influence youth behavior. In the author’s longitudinal ethnographic study of social capital in urban communities, schools and families and its impact on serious violent behavior among at-risk African-American male youth, the author found that positive youth outcomes were often tied to socially supportive relationships with extended familial members (grandparents, aunts, uncles or siblings) and fictive kinships (i.e. godparents). In this study, participation in serious youth violence among sample members was not necessarily tied to the presence of a traditional two-parent nuclear family as much as the outcomes were tied to the varying levels of family-based social capital
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which a family possessed. Single mothers often tapped into extended familial and fictive kinships as vital sources of social capital for their children often equal to if not more than the efforts made by two-parent families. Single mothers often did an extraordinary job in seeking out resources within the local community and mainstream that would move their sons away from engaging in serious violence. Families headed by single mothers often viewed as “structurally deficient” and lacking the social capital to prevent serious youth violence, in this study, were in many instances much more skillful in garnering and deploying social capital for the benefit of their children than the prototypical two-parent nuclear family. Although much empirical research on broken families (i.e. single-female households) depicts Black youth, particularly young Black males, having the greater propensity to engage in violent and delinquent behavior, the ethnographic data collected in this study indicates otherwise. In the eight case studies of young men who were followed in this adolescent lifecourse study, three of the young men were from a traditional nuclear two-parent family. Six of the eight young men resisted engaging in serious youth violence over the adolescent life-course. Surprisingly, the two sample members who persisted in serious violent behavior over the adolescent life-course (i.e. homicide, assault, robbery or battery) were from two-parent households. These two sample members were also the only young men in the sample group actively involved in youth gangs. More importantly, these two parent families were not as socially integrated into the local and mainstream community as many of the single-female headed households in the study. As a result of their social isolation, these two parent families failed to develop social contacts and connections with extended family members, fictive kin, community residents and institutions that would move them away from engaging in serious violence. Consequently, these families also heavily relied on social institutions such as the criminal justice system and family court system to serve as “surrogate parents” to provide the formal and informal social controls to prevent delinquency. However, these institutions lacked the capacity to effectively serve as “surrogate parents.” In many instances, these institutions fostered asocial behavior, delinquency and chronic participation in youth violence. Juvenile justice facilities were often breeding grounds for juvenile offenders to join violent youth gangs. These youth outcomes are quite contrary to those studies that have predicted a higher propensity for delinquency and violence among young men from broken families. Although these findings can not be generalized to a wider population due to such a small sample size, within this study these findings may suggests that single-female headed households often did a better job in seeking out resources that would enable their children to avoid engaging in violence. These findings may lead to future research regarding whether “one good parent” is often better than “two bad
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parents” in fostering successful adolescent development. Furthermore, the findings of this study also suggest that single-female headed households did an exceptional task at socially integrating themselves into the local community and mainstream. Examples of this social integration were participation in church, tenant/block organizations, community organizations, involvement in local school associations (PTA), etc. All of these indictors have been previously used as measures of social capital. These methods of social integration allowed the opportunity to develop social contacts and connections to gather knowledge, information and resources that could be utilized to move at-risk youth away from engaging in serious violence (i.e. violence prevention/youth development programs, etc.). In closing, Furstenberg and Kaplan (2004) note, “a family’s social integration or isolation from the neighborhood or broader community is perhaps the most central predictor of its ability to command social capital. However, we are just beginning to study the processes that lead to social isolation or integration.” Based on the ethnographic data gathered from eight intensive case studies over a four year period these are the most significant findings:
KEY FINDINGS Poor African-American families deploy a variety of social strategies, and utilize various sources of social capital, to foster pro-social behavior used to prevent their children from engaging in serious violence. High quality relationships and strong social ties within familial social networks were more likely to result in at-risk youth resisting or desisting from engaging in serious youth violence. When parents and family members were socially integrated into the local and wider community they were better equipped to access, acquire and deploy social capital for the social benefit of their children. A family’s social integration or social isolation from the neighborhood and broader community is perhaps the most central predictor of its ability to command social capital. Social isolation reduced the flow of information, knowledge and resources into the social network of families and at-risk youth that could potentially move at-risk youth from engaging in violent behavior. Socially isolated families often heavily relied on assistance in the parenting process from state institutions such as schools, the criminal justice, juvenile justice and the family court system. These institutions often lacked the capacity to serve as “surrogate parents.” Consequently, children from these families were more likely to engage and/or persist in violent behavior.
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Socially isolated families often “burned bridges” of social support by placing too heavy a load on extended family members, fictive kin and community institutions to assist in the parenting process. Single vs. Two Parent Households – Single parents, particularly, single mothers, did an extraordinary job in seeking out resources within their immediate, extended and fictive kinship networks as well as in the local and wider community to move their children away from engaging serious violence. African-American men in both traditional (biological father, stepfather) and nontraditional father roles (uncles, grandfathers, brothers, older cousins) emerged as primary caregivers and valuable sources of social support for at-risk youth.
THE EMERGENCE OF THE AFRICAN-AMERICAN UNCLE AS A SOURCE OF FAMILY-BASED CAPITAL Within poor African-American families, grandmothers often serve as surrogate parents for their grandchildren. Anderson often referred to the symbolic matriarchal role of the black grandmother in poor African-American families as a “heroic figure.” Although much work has been done on the role of the AfricanAmerican grandmother, minimal empirical work exists on how extended male family members (i.e. grandfather, uncle and brother) and fictive kin (i.e. godfather) serve as significant sources of family-based social capital. In this study of social capital and youth violence, African-American men, specifically African-American uncles, played a vital role in facilitating young African-American males from either refraining or desisting from engaging in serious violent behavior. In many instances in this study, African-American uncles often filled the void left by the absence of biological fathers within single-female headed households. Similar to the role of the African-American grandmother, these men often assumed the role of primary caregivers for young African-American males. From the eight case studies used in this study, four of the young men had uncles who served as primary caregivers and participated in the collective parenting processes with single-female parents. Two of the case studies particularly highlighted the increased role that these men played in single-female headed households and in the lives of at-risk African-American youth.
CASE STUDY#1: CLYDE In the first case study Clyde (Category Shotcaller) had four uncles that collectively and actively participated in a collaborative parenting process efforts with Clyde’s
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single-parent mother. Two of the uncles had been previously incarcerated and made strong efforts to divert their nephew from the criminal justice system. Through their collective efforts, this young man managed to graduate from high school without engaging in one act of serious violent behavior during the four-year period of the study. The excerpt from Clyde’s case study was taken from the author’s fieldnotes: The most important change in Clyde’s social network occurred when Clyde’s Uncle Timothy was paroled from prison and returned to Soulville to live with Clyde and his mother (Rhonda Brown) in their small two-bedroom apartment. Timothy immediately assumed the role of father-figure and primary caregiver to Clyde and his younger brothers. Upon his return from prison, Timothy became Clyde’s primary caretaker when Rhonda Brown was given permanent employment at the post office. Timothy now assumed the role of checking Clyde’s homework and monitoring his studies. He also attended open school nights and PTA meetings at Clyde’s high school. During this period, Clyde’s older cousin Rocky also entered Clyde’s life. Although Rocky was Clyde’s older cousin, the family considered him to be a fictive “uncle.” This kind of fictive relationship occurred in other case studies as well. When Timothy or Tommy (another uncle) were not actively engaged in monitoring and supervising Clyde’s activities, Uncle Rocky, who was recently discharged from the army played an integral role in mentoring and parenting Clyde. Although Clyde’s Uncle Tyrone was incarcerated he still remained active in Clyde’s life as well, providing him with sound advice about life and why he should acquire a solid education and employment so he would never end up in prison. During Time 2, Rhonda Brown also started a new relationship with a local barber, Robert, a well known older gentleman in the Soulville community. Robert also provided social support caring for Clyde and his two younger brothers when Rhonda returned to work. Again, the emerging role of men as crucial sources of social capital within urban black families in this case study supports the argument that the presence of fathers and men within the extended family unit produced a wealth of family-based social capital in the form of additional monitoring/supervision, income, material goods, and effective communication.
Clear and Rose (1998) argue in their seminal article “Incarceration, Social Capital and Crime: Implications for Social Disorganization Theory” that incarcerated offenders represent both assets and liabilities to their families and communities. Incarcerated men often serve as valuable resources within familial networks. These individual familial networks are often disrupted through incarceration which in turn disrupts communities. Clyde’s case study briefly touches on the unintended consequences of incarceration and the additive socially supportive value men contribute to their families once they are released from prison. Clear and Rose (1998) note “if offenders are solely a drain-if they are resources to some members of the community and if they occupy roles within networks that form some basis for informal social control-their removal or incarceration is not solely a positive act, but also imposes losses on those networks and their capacity for strengthened community life.” This case study also highlights the importance of adult re-entry and the social capital these men provide to families upon release back into the community. In
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this case study, Clyde’s Uncle Timothy immediately assumed the role of primary caregiver and surrogate father once he was released from prison. Consequently, in this case study the impact of incarceration had a significant impact on removing a valuable source of family-based social capital from Clyde’s familial network. One could also assume that once Clyde’s other uncle, Tyrone, who was incarcerated at the time of the study was eventually released from prison, he too would serve as a primary source of social capital within Clyde’s familial network since he had been doing so while behind bars. In neighborhoods deficient of social capital, where young men are often left on the streets unsupervised and unmonitored, the presence of these men in lives of Clyde served as a deterrent to his involvement in serious violent behavior. The collective efficacy displayed by these men in parenting their nephew in many respects refutes popular public opinion regarding the absence of positive nonbiological father figures in the social landscape of at-risk African-American male youth. Within Clyde’s family, uncles provided sound advice to Clyde on how to manage himself on the streets which Anderson (2000) refers to as “the code of the streets.” This understanding of the code of the streets which was passed down generationally from uncle to nephew served as a blueprint on how to survive in Soulville. In this excerpt “Rocky” an older cousin of Clyde whom he often fictively referred to as his uncle provides some insight on the code of the streets that he taught to Clyde: Rocky: I’ve been in trouble with the police before and Clyde knows that. So the advice I give is just keep his nose clean. You know what I’m saying. Go to school. The main thing for him is to stay in school and go to college. You know live your life. Cause college is something I didn’t get to do but I know it would be good for him. That way he can meet different people, he can meet a new friend everyday in college. And more importantly he’s not stuck here (in Soulville), because sometimes you can get stuck here. I tell him that he has the opportunity to go anywhere he wants to go. The doors are wide open for him. He’s got a lot of choices. There are so many ways for him to make an honest buck. Just use the knowledge and capabilities you have and you can be anything you want to be. There’s nothing holding him back. It’s just which opportunity he chooses because he’s got more than one. But as far as the streets go, I tell him that he’s going to have to know how to handle himself out there on the streets. I tell him that the police will stop you for anything. So whatever they ask you just say “yes sir” or “no sir.” You have to act like you’re giving them respect so they know you’re not disrespecting them. That is why I tell him to always say “yes sir” and “no sir.” Cause today man, you can’t even move when they stop you, you can’t even dig in your pockets. Cause’ they think all young black men are carrying guns but that’s not really true. I also tell Clyde how he don’t need no gang. I don’t even know why people join a gang today anyway. We got a big family. You know what I’m saying. He’s got uncles, a father and cousins so I tell him anything you have a problem with you can come to us. He’s got a lot of
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role models in his life to look up to. So I don’t even see being in a gang in his picture because he knows “we” would “check him” on that. I tell him if he has any problems, they can always be handled. He always has somebody to talk to.
Uncle Rocky also monitored and supervised Clyde’s activities while on the streets of Soulville, thus, providing an additional informal source of social control. Although the neighborhood of Soulville was socially disorganized in many respects, men such as Rocky provided informal social control that allowed the neighborhood to self-regulate itself. Clear and Rose (1998) note that “social capital is the essence of social control for it is the very force collectives draw upon to enforce order.” In this interview with Rocky he discusses how he monitored Clyde’s behavior on the streets of Soulville: INT: So do you ever run into Clyde on the streets? Rocky: Yeah, most definitely. Sometimes when I walk the avenue, I will see him. I call him over and we will stop and talk. The first question I ask him is “where are you going?” then I ask “what time are you going home?” Then I get on the phone and call his mother and I tell her “Look Rhonda, what you want me to do with him, you want me to send him home or what?” Most of the time she’s like as long as he’s with you he can stay out. I’m like okay because I don’t feel cool unless I know everything is alright.
CASE STUDY#2: JALEN In this case study, Jalen (Category-Baller), greatly benefited from the social capital provided by two uncles, Big Rich and Uncle Stephen. In order to explain the value of uncles in the life of Jalen, it is important to contextualize the historical context of men in his family. This is an excerpt from the very first interview with Jalen: My uncle Rich use to be in jail, my other uncle Ronald was in jail too, and my other uncle, Dickie, is in jail now and so is my father. Two of my cousins Mark and Tucker are locked up too. My family got a long record, if people in my neighborhood or the police know you’re a Smith, they’ll be like oh I know you’re going to jail. That’s why I don’t like being a Smith, I really want to change my last name. You know, I want to change it for emergency situations like say for instance someone gets robbed around here and accuses me of it, if they know I’m a Smith then they’ll think I probably had a pretty good chance of doing it. I mean my family just has a bad reputation around here . . . If I had one wish, I just wish I could change my name. – Jalen Smith, Age 13, 1997.
Jalen had participated in over twenty basketball leagues in Soulville. It was a safe haven and a refuge for social and cultural capital. The leagues provided social capital through exposure to older African-American men “old heads” who served as coaches in the league and mentors to the players. However, in the absence of
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Jalen’s biological father who was incarcerated during the length of this study, his paternal uncles served as valuable sources of social support. Standing at 6 + 6, and 280 pounds, Jalen’s Uncle Rich known as “Big Rich” for his intimidating and imposing physical presence, often accompanied the Jalen’s basketball team as a chaperone when the team traveled out of the state. Big Rich attended all of Jalen’s games. Rich was well known by the coaches in the league and by the men in the local Soulville community. Big Rich was regarded as a neighborhood celebrity and was respected by everyone in the community for being a tough no non-sense kind of guy. Rich had earned his reputation and notoriety in the neighborhood as an enforcer for an organized crime organization in Soulville. He was once an enforcer for Soulville’s Black Mafia. Big Rich had served five years in prison but was now working as a welder. Based on his reputation and strong community ties, Rich was asked by Jalen’s AAU basketball league officials to chaperone the team on trips. Jalen greatly benefited from his uncle’s notorious reputation and strong community ties. Big Rich’s constant involvement in monitoring Jalen’s activities, and his expansive social networks in the community provided Jalen with additional familybased capital as well as community-based social capital. His role as a significant male figure in Jalen’s social network again highlighted the often ignored role of men in African-American families in their generation and production of social capital (Furstenberg, 2001). In this Time 1 interview, Jalen discusses how he benefited from his uncle’s reputation and social ties in the community: INT: So do you think Big Rich gets a lot of respect in the neighborhood? Jalen: Yeah, in my neighborhood and all around really. Every time we walk around here, he stops to talk to someone like on every block. Like at least two people on every block. INT: Do you think he’s like a celebrity around here? Jalen: Yeah! INT: So how do feel about that? Jalen: Its cool because when I’m with him people be like oh that’s Rich’s nephew so they look out for me and now I’m cool with like almost everybody around here.
Big Rich served as a source of social capital that provided Jalen with protection while on the streets of Soulville while his other uncle Stephen, a high school teacher and track coach provided the necessary social capital to provide Jalen with “community bridging” capital to mainstream institutions (e.g. exposure to colleges and universities). As Jalen transitioned from junior high to high school, numerous high school coaches were heavily recruiting Jalen. During this process, Jalen’s older cousin “Steven” who Jalen fictively referred to as “Uncle Steven” assumed the role of Jalen’s guardian. Steven was a track coach and gym teacher at Eisenhower High, a school that with a reputation in the city as a basketball powerhouse. As a
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track coach, Steven had extensive experience dealing with unscrupulous recruiters and scouts who would use desperate measures to recruit impoverished and na¨ıve young men such as Jalen to their schools. Confident that Steven would steer Jalen in the right direction, the Smith family collectively decided that Steven should serve as Jalen’s guardian when negotiating with high school recruiters. Ultimately, the family decided that it would be best if Jalen attended Eisenhower High where Steven could closely monitor his progress. In Time 2, Steven would assume the role of a father-figure, guardian and mentor in Jalen’s life. Steven tremendously aided in protecting Jalen from the many college coaches and scouts who were attempting to recruit him to their universities. This recruitment process started as early as his 9th grade year in high school. In this Time 2 interview with Jalen’s mother she excitedly talked about the importance of having Steven in Jalen’s life: Valerie Smith: I don’t what I would do without Steven, especially with things like basketball and track, because I don’t know too much about those things, so I’m happy he’s here for him. If he takes him to play ball or wants to talk to him about condoms, whatever, I let Steven do whatever he wants with him. I told Stephen if I get a call or mail from the colleges, I will contact him first because he knows more about this scouting stuff than I do. Steven calls Jalen all the time, they be on the phone for like hours, I’m glad it’s a male figure in my family that can talk to him like that. INT: So why do you think he’s been so involved in Jalen’s life? Valerie Smith: Because we’re family but he just doesn’t do it cause we’re family, he’s been working with children for years even before my son started going to Eisenhower. He used to have a camp and he use to take kids down South like he’s done with Jalen. He’s been a good influence on children because Steven had a hard, rough life coming up and he made it, so he’s just giving back. Now he’s working on his doctorate degree, he’s got a master’s degree and all that.
Thus, although there have been numerous discussions and debates regarding the social capital that African-American men provide to their communities and families, it has been assumed that poor communities characterized by singlefemale headed households often lack the social capital to encourage children to complete their education, discourage them from engaging in delinquency and crime and sanction them appropriately in informal and intimate relationships. This manuscript argues that even in homes absent of biological fathers, there are often other male figures who serve socially supportive roles to these mothers and their children. The previous case study highlights the important sources of informal control provided by African-American uncles to the children of their siblings. Currently, not much is known about the networks so fundamental to social capital and social control. More importantly within criminology, not much work has focused on the nature of networks and their impact on residents, family
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members and communities, other than to assume enhanced networks lead to increases in social control (Clear & Rose, 1998).
CASE STUDY #3: COREY The next case study in this paper highlights an extraordinary relationship where an uncle assumed permanent parental guardianship over one young man in the sample. When I first met Corey (Category-Dolo), he was 12 years old and lived with his mother and older brother in a renovated tenement building on the south side of Soulville. Corey’s father, Curtis Townsend, spent the majority of Corey’s childhood going in and out of prison before he was murdered when Corey was 10 years old. There were few organized recreational youth centers in his south side neighborhood and fewer older male mentors. Although this area was much safer than his former neighborhood in northern Soulville, it lacked the community-based social capital resources that seemed to be abundant in the central and northern neighborhoods of Soulville. Consequently, the vast majority of the social institutions that provided positive community-based social capital for young men in Soulville were located over twenty blocks from Corey’s home. Unfortunately for Corey, there were no community centers within walking distance of his home. In this excerpt Corey elaborates on the absence of community-based social capital in his southside Soulville neighborhood: Corey: My neighborhood is boring, its dull and dead. There’s nothing to do around here unless we make something to do like chase kids and beat them up or something like that.
During the first year of the study, Corey’s older brother, Darryl, spent a year in prison for armed robbery. Darnell was also a high school dropout. In this excerpt from an interview with Corey he discusses why he so desperately wanted to be successful in life: People always tell me don’t be like your older brother, because he gets into a lot of trouble. I don’t want to be like him, with no life and no job. I want to have a future. Cause’ I was realizing that everybody was looking forward to me doing good in school because my brother dropped out. I wanted to make my family proud. So I stopped hanging out with my friends, I left them alone, that’s why they’re getting left back, getting in trouble and stuff like that and I’m graduating. I left them alone and had to do what I had to do. I’m just dolo now. I’m just by myself because you can’t trust people. People are backstabbers, they don’t want you to get ahead. – Corey, Age 13, (one week before his graduation from Soulville Junior High).
While Tina Jackson invested much of her time in creating positive pathways for youngest son Corey, her oldest son Darnell, 19, spent the majority of his time
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getting into trouble hanging out on the streets of Soulville. As Darnell moved further into a life of crime, Tina Jackson focused more of her efforts and energies on keeping Corey from following the same destructive path. In this excerpt, Tina Jackson discusses her problems with her oldest son, Darnell, and the efforts she made to keep her youngest son, Corey, from getting into trouble. INT: As Corey gets older do you have any serious concerns about him? Tina Jackson: Definitely, especially about being with the right people and going in the right direction. His brother, Darnell, is getting into a lot of trouble being with the wrong crowd. He’s 19 and I’m about to kick him out the house because he’s not doing anything with his life but hanging with the wrong people you know the “do nothing crowd.” So you can understand by seeing that, I don’t want Corey with the wrong crowd and especially not to hang out on the corners around here. All of my family is so spread out, so we are basically down here alone and its rough down here. The ghetto is a rough place for a young black man, there are a lot of policemen doing dirty things to young black boys around here, they’re just looking for young boys to harass and lock up, like they did my older son. He was arrested for a mistaken identity for a robbery and had to go to jail for a week. That was the most terrible and miserable thing I’ve ever been through. I don’t want that to happen to either one of my boys again. That’s why I will always send Corey to some type of after school activity, something to keep his mind busy because its rough out here.
Corey’s mother, Tina Jackson heavily relied on the advice and support of her family, particularly her brother Melvin, to assist her with raising her two boys. The Jackson family collectively engaged in resolving all family problems and disputes. They shared a consensus and connectedness on the rules, rituals and values that were instilled in Corey. When families act as a united body and make choices that reflect a “solidarity and mutuality of interests” they are more successful in mobilizing social capital for their children. A system that is high in social capital is one which its members believe that they are indebted or obligated to respond to the needs of other family members (Furstenberg, 2001). At the core of this familial unit was Tina’s mother-in-law, Eldoise Townsend, her brother, Melvin and her closest sister, Janice. In this excerpt Tina Jackson discusses how she relied on the advice and support of these family members to participate in raising Corey: INT: So who do you rely on when you have problems with Corey? Tina Jackson: Usually, I speak with the family about him, you know. Like his grandmother Eldoise, which is my mother-in-law, my sister Janice or my brother Melvin.
As Corey approached his first year in high school, he was assigned to Browning High School. Browning High had a notorious reputation in New York City as one of the worst high schools in the city. It was known for serious violent youth gangs and for high levels of violence. It was also the site of a recent school shooting.
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Although Corey’s Uncle Melvin had been consistently involved in Corey’s life it was at this juncture that Melvin decided to assume permanent parental guardianship over Corey. Melvin and Corey’s mother, Tina Johnson, collectively decided that it would be best if Corey spent his high school years living with his uncle in Dallas, Texas. Melvin had been raised in Soulville, as a result, he had personally experienced the many pitfalls that prohibit young men from Soulville from achieving success. In Soulville, parents often sought safe havens of refuge outside of Soulville for their children. As in Clyde’s case study, where his mother often sent him to stay with his uncle in the serene Pocono Mountains on the weekends, Corey’s family sought to use Melvin for this purpose as well. Melvin was a primary resource of family-based social capital within Corey’s familial network and often used as a primary resource of social support. Jarrett (1995) notes “a supportive adult network structure is the first characteristic of the community-bridging family pattern. Parents ability to provide broader opportunities for youth derives from their embeddedness in extended, often socio-economically heterogeneous, kinship networks. Linked by kinship and friendship ties, various adults provide parenting functions for youth. Social networks that provide additional adults, such as grandmothers, older siblings, godparents, neighbors, and biological or fictive kin, furnish young people with additional care, concern and resources (Anderson, 1990; Aschenbrenner, 1975; Hollman & Lewis, 1978; Jarrett, 1992; Jeffers, 1967; Martin & Martin, 1978; Valentine, 1978; Williams, 1978).” The community-bridging family patterns used by Corey’s mother to tap into her brother who lived in Texas expanded broader opportunities and life chances for Corey. Moreover, the social obligation, trustworthiness and responsibility to family members are variables inherent in social capital theory. Social capital stems from a sense of trust and obligation created through interaction among community and family members and serves to reinforce a set of prescriptive norms (Clear & Rose, 1998; Coleman, 1990). In this study, Corey’s uncle exhibited a social responsibility and obligation to his sister and his nephew to remove Corey from an environment in Soulville that was often toxic and highly volatile for young African-American men. The toxic environment in Soulville had already begun to destroy the life of Corey’s older brother, consequently, Melvin believed that a change in environment would encourage Corey to complete his education, and discourage him from engaging in serious violence, delinquency and crime. Similar to several uncles highlighted in this paper, Corey’s uncle would serve as an informal source of social control. Within the Jackson family, the collective parenting process incorporated by Tina Jackson and her brother Melvin, allowed for effective monitoring of Corey’s activities as well as expanding his life chances. Jarrett (1995) notes “parents of socially mobile youth often lack the resources to carry out socialization functions alone. In response, other adults provide supervision, care and guidance for poor
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African-American youth. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, fictive kin, older siblings and others assume shared or complete parenting roles and responsibilities.” In this case study, an African-American uncle assumed parental guardianship of his nephew while simultaneously emancipating him from the poverty and lure of crime in Soulville. In this excerpt, Tina Jackson, Corey’s mother, discusses why her brother wanted Corey to relocate to Dallas from Soulville: Tina Jackson: My brother wants Corey to come and live with him now that he’s getting ready to go to high school. He wants to keep Corey down in Texas because he believes that it will be better for him. I’m contemplating letting him go because its nice down there and its more of a country environment and Corey likes it down there, he gets to go fishing and ride bikes and all kinds of stuff. But my brother he is so serious about him coming down there, he wants to make Corey a Texas person, he doesn’t want him to be in Soulville anymore. I think my brother wants Corey to change his whole lifestyle and live down there. But I told him not to force Corey to stay let him make his own decision. I don’t want my brother to force Corey to stay there but my brother keeps pushing it and pushing it calling here everyday asking “when are you sending Corey down to stay with me?” But as a mother I’m not sure if I want him to go.
Ultimately, Corey went to live with his Uncle Melvin and his uncle’s wife in a suburb of Dallas, Texas. Corey attended a LBJ high school that embodied high academic standards, a school which was in stark contrast to the gang-infested and poor academic performing Browning High School. Corey became a solid B student at LBJ and also joined the school’s basketball team. Throughout his high school career, Corey had not been involved in one incident of violence or delinquency. Corey’s move to the South also represented the changing patterns of African-American mobility and re-migration patterns to the South. Mobile African-American families are now re-migrating back to the southern cities they once fled to escape poverty and oppression. Within the last two decades, the “new South” has become a vibrant “new” promised land for African-Americans. In the 2004 June issue of Black Enterprise magazine, eight of the top ten cities for African-Americans to live were located in the South. By the close of the study, Tina Jackson, had totally changed her once skeptical views on sending Corey to live with her brother. Tina Jackson: I’m happy that I sent him to Texas with my brother, I miss him, but I figure what’s good for him is good for me too. I want the best for him. I think he has a better chance down there to achieve his goals. There’s a better school system there and from what I saw the teachers put more time into the kids, they seem to care a little bit more. That just seems to be the way of the South you know, people are more caring and sensitive. If he would have stayed here I really don’t know what the situation might have been but I would have tried as much as
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JOSEPH B. RICHARDSON, JR. possible to keep him out of those situations but it would have been rough. More importantly, he really likes it down there, its warm all year round and he likes to go fishing a lot with his uncle. He has a basketball court in the back of the house, he fishes on the weekends and he rides bikes with his friends. It’s a more easy going type of environment, you know country like. I am glad that my brother (Melvin) convinced me to let him go.
Although this section has highlighted the important role of African-American uncles as valuable sources of family-based social capital for at-risk male youth and their families, there is much needed research in the role men play in the creation of family-based social capital. Unfortunately, current research has not helped to expand the concept of social capital beyond the emphasized nuclear family norm. There is a need in the study of at-risk youth to gain better information on what goes on within the family, specifically, the interactions at-risk male youth have with extended male family members and fictive kinship networks. Furthermore, the four sample members who maintained positive relationships with African-American uncles either resisted or desisted from engaging in serious violence over the adolescent life-course. In all of these case studies, uncles played a significant role in influencing adolescent behavior. The data revealed that when single-mothers utilized extended male family members, specifically uncles, to serve as surrogate fathers and positive role models, at-risk young African-American males were less likely to engage in serious violent behavior over the adolescent life-course. The findings of this study reveal that there is the vital need to explore the various forms of family-based social capital within African-American families, and how these forms of family based capital directly or indirectly influence adolescent violent behavior. More importantly, we must begin to further explore that poor African-American families are not a monolithic or homogeneous group in the varying sources of capital they possess. How we begin to untangle these issues must be addressed in future research on social capital, the African-African family and serious youth violence. One of the most significant findings of those outlined above were the overreliance of socially isolated families on state sanctioned institutions such as schools, the criminal justice system, the juvenile justice and the family court system. Several parents in the sample relied heavily on state sanctioned institutions such as the criminal justice system and family court to assist in parenting their children. Generally, when parents isolated themselves from the local and wider community and failed to establish informal and formal associations with other families, neighborhood residents and kinship networks, they often relied heavily on social support from state sanctioned institutions such as the criminal justice system and family court.
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CASE STUDY #4: SLY It was thoroughly documented in this study that a family’s integration or isolation from the neighborhood and broader community was perhaps the central most predictor of its ability to command social capital. Out of the eight families in the study, two families failed to integrate themselves into the local and wider community. Both families acted as socially isolated entities in their local environments. One family, the Howard family was treated by community residents as social outcasts. The Howard family had “burnt out” all their informal social ties and support in the Stacks by placing too heavy a load on friends, neighbors and local community institutions (i.e. The Boys Club) to monitor, supervise and regulate their son, Sly (Category-Thug), activities in the local community. In this excerpt from an interview with Sly’s father, he discusses how Sly’s delinquent behavior led to the local community residents reluctance to monitor Sly’s behavior leaving a void in their community-based social capital: INT.: So around here, in your building and in this neighborhood, “Do you give older people the right to reprimand Sly if they see him doing something wrong? SLY, SR.: No I could never do that it wouldn’t work. INT.: How about your neighbors? SLY, SR.: No. Because with Sly, I know that I can’t reprimand him but so much, so it really wouldn’t help matters, it would make it worse. Because it’s already bad enough if the child won’t listen to you and you’re the parent. And if you put your hands on him that will really give him the fuel and the energy to try to scheme, because he’s not no dumb kid, he would probably call the police. INT.: He’d call the police on them? SLY, SR.: Yeah (laughs). If he will call them on me, the parent, just imagine what he would do to them. And I won’t put people through that, I just tell them if he do anything, leave him alone and come and call me up. If it gets to the point that you can’t do anything, just call the police on him and lock him up, because it’s to that point you know. Sly got himself a little reputation around here, it makes me feel kind of embarrassed sometimes but then I say, I’m not totally embarrassed because I know children going to be children. And see some adults is as worse as the children and they look at the parents like the parents should dig a hole and put the child in it and then cover it up, but it don’t happen like that you know. But I’m trying to reach him as much as I can.
In this excerpt from a Time 2 interview with Sly’s mother, Ms. Howard, she discussed her only form of quality time spent with Sly and her newfound celebrity in the criminal courthouse: INT: What kinds of activities would you and Sly do together? Mother: Who – me and Sly? INT: Yes.
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Mother: What did Sly and I used to do together? We used to go to court a lot together, that’s number one. That’s the number one thing we did together. The social worker and the lawyer told me they gone give me a bed there one time. They did. They said, “Every time we see you, you here.” Everybody knew me in the courtroom. I’ve been goin’ to the courthouse so much, all of them knew me. INT: Even the court officers? Mother: All of them officers, all the probation officers they joke and say they gonna give me a job there. Everybody knew me in that courtroom and one of ‘em actually said, “Why you so known in the courtroom?” I say, “I don’t know.” He say, “I know, because of Sly.” Yeah, everybody know me in the courtroom. I would go to the fourth floor, everybody would say “Hi Miss Howard.”
In this study socially isolated families such as the Howard family, heavily depended upon the social support provided by state sanctioned institutions (i.e. criminal justice system, juvenile justice system and family court) to assist in parenting their children. These families readily acknowledged that they used the police, juvenile justice and family court system to “shake their children up” hoping these agencies of formal social control would change the unruly behaviors of their children. Because these parents were often incapable of enforcing rules, rituals and normative behavior within their households, they relied heavily on the, the school, criminal justice system and the family court system to serve as the primary enforcer of rules, rituals and normative behavior. In this excerpt from an interview Sly’s father, Mr Howard, discusses how he planned to use the police to “shake his son up”: INT.: So was it your decision that you wanted Sly to spend the night in jail? SLY, SR.: You damn right it was. Because I wanted to teach Sly a lesson. He cannot go through life disrespecting his parents, you cannot go through life jumping in an adult’s face because a child should learn how to be a child at any extreme, you know what I’m saying. Because later on in life, if you don’t learn it at this stage, there is going to be some big trouble later on. Me and Sly went down to the police station and they took us to some kind of room where we sat down and then they held Sly overnight. So I figured they would keep Sly for a month or two and tell him that this is his new home and Sly would figure, “Well I would rather be home than be here” and then he would change his act. And they would give him some kind of counseling. But that never happened, they just let him go.
For Sly, the criminal justice system became almost a surrogate parent. Over the course of his early adolescent years Sly was literally raised by the criminal justice system. For Sly’s mother, accompanying Sly to court for his numerous criminal cases became their shared activity. It seemed that by traveling with her son to various court dates, Mrs. Howard had achieved some form of purpose as a parent. Strangely enough she had achieved some form of self-actualization as a parent in
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her newfound notoriety in the criminal courthouse. However, the Howard family’s over-reliance on the criminal justice system as a surrogate parent only fueled Sly’s serious violent behavior. Here is an excerpt from an interview with Sly’s mother which highlights her over-reliance on the juvenile justice system as a surrogate parent: Sly’s Mother: The way Sly was goin’ in a way I’m glad he got locked back up again because he was back doin’ what he continued to do all over again and you know, he wasn’t doin’ too good. So I say, “everything turned out for the best,” because when the probation officer interviewed me and asked me did I want Sly to come back home, I told the probation officer, “No I don’t want him back home now” because I really didn’t want him back in my home. I said, “No, I don’t want him back home,” and he said, “Well I just knew you’re gonna tell me you wanted him back home,” that’s what the probation officer told me. He said “I could get you in front of the judge and say you want him back home.” But when the judge looked at me and asked me, “Ms. Howard, do you want your boy back at home?” I told the judge, “Listen, don’t send him home” – because the judge knew that I meant it. I really don’t want him to come back home.” I told the probation officer I didn’t want him to come home cause’ the last thing I need is for him to get killed in the streets. He needed to grow up some. Maybe he’ll grow up some and maybe if he stays up there, he’ll learn some discipline and maybe he’ll be a better person. That’s what I’m gonna pray happens.
During the lengthy stints that he was incarcerated, Sly acquired more negative social capital. Although his parents believed that the criminal justice system would “straighten” Sly out, his incarceration produced the opposite effect. His strong ties to the criminal justice system seemed to encourage and validate his reputation as a “thug.” In urban areas, the perception of serving jail time among young black males is often perceived as a badge of honor and a rite of passage. In the criminal underworld of Soulville, going to jail or “doing a bid” was a normative aspect of everyday life. While incarcerated Sly joined the Bloods and earned a reputation in prison as a feared gangbanger. Consequently, Sly left the prison system a more hardened criminal. The reputation he earned in prison as a feared gang banger was carried back to the streets of Soulville where he continued to build his reputation, earning his stripes by “banging for Bloods.”
CASE STUDY #5: MANNY Another sample member, Manny (Category Shotcaller), also resided in a home where his single parent mother was socially isolated from the larger community. Manny’s mother, Mary Lopez, spent much of her time at home watching television.
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Mary Lopez had no friends, family members or fictive kin. Consequently, she relied heavily on her social worker and psychiatrist for social support. She utilized the family court system “to shake her son up” when Manny began the pattern of running away from home and missing months of school. She hoped that the system would “lock him up” temporarily and that this scare tactic would force him to change his behavior. Here is an excerpt from an interview with Manny’s mother, Mary Lopez, prior to a family court date for her son, Manny: INT: Mary Lopez: INT: Mary Lopez:
Has Manny ever been to court before or is this his first time going to court? This is his first time so I hope it’s going to shake him up a little. So what do you hope that the judge does? I hope the judge will put something in his mind that is really going to scare him and make him think of school. INT: So what do you want the judge to do with him? Mary Lopez: I hope he’ll put him in a boarding school or group home, the way I feel he needs to be punished a little.
Fortunately, for Manny the family court system assigned him a home school tutor and did not place in him in the city’s group home system which in New York City often serves as a second tier juvenile justice system. One can only speculate that if Manny had been placed in the city’s group home system, he may have eventually followed the same criminal career path as Sly. By Time 2 of the study, Manny had established an affiliation with the Crips. Gang affiliation is a street status that will be discussed later in the paper. Thus, when parents failed to integrate themselves into the local and wider community, they limit the level of information and social contacts that could potentially flow into their social networks. Consequently, these parents have few options or resources available to them that could aid in effectively parenting their children. Both Sly and Manny may have had other alternatives available to them such as Job Corps or Boot Camp. Without the parents’ social integration into the local and wider community that would foster the development of more social contacts, knowledge and information, formal state institutions such as the criminal justice system and the family court system became the primary community-based resources that these families utilized for social support. However, these institutions do not have the capacity to serve as effective parents to children. As a result, these children became more likely to engage in serious violence and were also more likely to drop out of school. By the end of the study, both Sly and Manny were the only two young men in the sample group to drop out of school and also to engage in chronic delinquent and serious violent behavior.
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THE CAPITALIZATION PROCESS Key Findings: The Capitalization Process At-risk youth who accumulated more pro-social capital over the adolescent lifecourse, were more likely to refrain or desist from in engaging in serious youth violence. Greater levels of social capital were accumulated over the adolescent life-course as at-risk youth expanded their social boundaries, contacts and relationships outside of the Soulville community, a process defined as “community bridging.” When at-risk youth experienced significant losses in sources of pro-social capital over the adolescent life-course they were more likely to engage and/or persist in serious violence and drop out of school. Some at-risk youth in this study used “criminal capital” (i.e. youth gangs and criminal relationships) to gain street credibility and respect. The accumulation of criminal capital over the adolescent life-course led to persistent violent behavior and delinquency. How the developmental sequence of network structures changed over time and how that process either directly or indirectly affected participation in serious youth violence is an issue of great importance in the study of adolescent development and delinquency. Hagan (1993) refers to this process as life-course capitalization. How the capitalization process affects adolescent behavioral development over time is important in measuring how nested networks of families, neighborhood institutions, schools and peers of sample members may influence behavior at different points on the adolescent life-course. Hagan (1998) noted that the aggregation and accumulation of social capital over the adolescent life-course can significantly shape, determine and alter life outcomes. Consequently, over the adolescent life-course individuals either augment or deplete their net capital positions which have the transformative potential to influence life course trajectories (Hagan, 1998). This transformative process is often identified by turning points in individuals’ lives, events or experiences that might alter the trajectories of life course development. In this study, these transitional turning points were identified by Time 1 and Time 2. Time 1 represented the beginning of early adolescence (12–14). This period was marked by the sample members’ 7th and 8th grade years in junior high school. Time 2 was identified by the transitional move to high school (9th grade) which is typically marked as period of mid-adolescence (14–16). During both of these periods, sample members often experienced several developmental changes.
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Sample members experienced several developmental changes such as biological and physiological changes brought on by the onset of puberty. As sample members entered high school, shifts occurred in peer groups as well. Some young men had become more sexually active and others began experimenting with drugs, particularly alcohol and marijuana (e.g, Sly & Manny). Some young men continued to participate in or joined organized teams, while others had dropped out of sports. In this study, those young men who either resisted or desisted from participation in serious youth violence in Time 1 continued to follow the same pattern of behavior in Time 2. In the majority of these case studies, these sample members continued to augment their capital resources over the adolescent life course via the expansion of their social networks. Sample members such as Clyde and Corey all expanded their social networks during Time 2. In Time 2, Jalen (Baller Category) and Corey expanded their social networks and augmented their capital resources through their participation in recreational sports and activities. During this period, Jalen emerged into an all-star athlete in two sports, track and basketball. He was the subject of several articles in the city’s newspaper. His involvement in the Soulville basketball leagues, ultimately lead to a basketball scholarship to a division I university in Southern California. In Time 2, Corey joined his high school basketball team at his new high school in Dallas, Texas. Furthermore, in Time 2, Corey expanded his social networks and capital resources merely by moving to another state with relatives, where he was afforded the opportunity to attend a quality high school, thereby increasing his human capital and he socially benefited from residing in a middle class community. For Corey, moving out of Soulville to a much more productive social environment greatly increased his life chances and opportunities. Family life for most of these young men changed as they moved from early adolescence to mid-adolescence. In several instances, extended family members (i.e. uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents), fathers and boyfriends increased their parenting responsibilities in the lives of the sample members. As a result, these sample members experienced an increase in family-based social capital. In Time 2, Corey’s uncle, became Corey’s primary parent/guardian when Corey moved to his uncle’s home in Dallas. Jalen’s, Uncle Stephen, assumed the role of track coach, mentor, guidance counselor and to a certain degree “sports agent” fending off college basketball and track recruiters. During this period, Jalen’s mother remarried another man “Darryl.” Jalen referred to Darryl as his father and acknowledged on several occasions that Darryl “acted more like his father than his biological father ever did.” In Time 2, Clyde’s, Uncle Timothy, moved back into his Clyde’s home after returning from prison and immediately assumed the role of a father figure in Clyde’s life. After returning from a stint in the Army, Clyde’s older male cousin “Rock”
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also assumed parenting responsibilities acting as Clyde’s “eyes and ears” on the streets of Soulville. Robert, the boyfriend of Clyde’s mother, actively engaged in monitoring, supervising and regulating Clyde’s behavior. In addition, his Uncle Tommy continued to take Clyde on weekend trips to the Pocono Mountains. It is important to note, however, that these case studies all highlighted how the accumulation of pro-social sources of social capital over time positively affected youth outcomes and behaviors.
CRIMINAL CAPITALIZATION Unlike other sample members who acquired positive social capital over time, Sly continued to accumulate more negative capital over the adolescent life-course. Hagan (1993) refers to the accumulation of negative capital over the adolescent life-course as “criminal capitalization.” Lacking other sources of social, human and cultural capital, Sly was drawn to the promise and allure of a criminal lifestyle. His embeddedness in criminal contexts allowed him to generate more criminal contacts over time. For Sly, his deep immersion in the Bloods allowed him to develop more criminal contacts over the adolescent-life course. Consequently, the gang became a critical resource for the acquisition of criminal capital. Consequently, “instead of functioning as a progressive and liberating agent capable of transforming and correcting the youngsters’ economic plight, the gang assisted in reinforcing it” (Padilla, 1992). Hagan (1993) notes, “criminal embeddedness can be a source of criminal capital that results in short-term benefits (i.e. street respect and honor) but it is a liability in terms of academic success and prospects for stable adult employment.” Sly’s criminal embeddedness isolated him from conventional social networks (i.e. Soulville Boys Club) that would have been integral in helping him to attain legitimate employment and valuable academic resources. Hagan notes, “it is the criminal embeddedness in crime networks, including the criminal justice system, that often seals the academic and economic fate of these youth.” As a result, “this culture of defiance at best dooms the boys to jobs just like their fathers hold” (Moore, 1989). For Sly, he appeared to be following the same career trajectory as his father, he was rapidly preparing himself for a low-wage occupation.
THE CAPITALIZATION PROCESS FOR CRIMINAL ENDS Sly and Manny’s ties to local youth gangs and cliques highlighted how social capital may also be used to achieve anti-social goals. Therefore, social capital in
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certain instances may be used for less socially desirable goals that are not consistent with normative expectations. The example of how members of organized crime use their criminal ties to La Cosa Nostra or the “Italian-American Mafia” to achieve success is not considered laudable by most mainstream Americans. However, we must acknowledge that if social capital has validity, it should operate equally well regardless of the content or purpose of the objectives (Furstenberg, 2001). Sly and Manny all used their social ties to local gangs as a resource to earn “respect” and credibility on the street. Being associated with a recognized gang or crew afforded these sample members the opportunity to gain street respect and in many instances provided protection or “back up.” In Soulville, where a high value was placed on “street respect” and “getting props” (defined as proper respect from peers), being associated with a feared gang or crew in Soulville was a relationship premised on the acquisition of negative social capital. Analogous to being a “made man” in La Cosa Nostra which entitled an individual in this small close knit circle to street respect and protection, official members of gangs or crews were also entitled to the similar social benefits. This was true for Sly yet not for Manny. Sly’s membership to the Bloods entitled him to protection and street respect. Through shared norms and a sense of common group membership to draw upon, Sly utilized these social ties to acquire respect. However, because Manny’s ties were premised on a nebulous and often undefined “affiliated” status with the Crips, he was not afforded the same social benefits such as mandatory “back-up” in a fight. Ironically, these sample members were products of families that remained relatively socially isolated from the local community. Their parents had failed to establish quality informal and formal social ties with neighbors and local institutions. Because the level of family integration into the local community is a central predictor of its ability to generate social capital, these young men were exposed to few sources of positive social capital in the local community, which may in turn have led them to acquire the kinds of social capital they perceived as necessary for their own survival. Thus, we must acknowledge that social capital is not necessarily used for prosocial outcomes such as resisting or desisting from participating in violent behavior. Social capital may also be used for less desirable outcomes yet it should operate equally regardless of the content or purpose of its intended objectives. Like Sly, Manny had relatively little positive family-based social capital. Manny’s had no extended family to rely on for social support. Furthermore, his mother’s psychological condition prevented her from developing positive relationships with local residents and community institutions. By Time 2, Manny also began to accumulate criminal capital through his “affiliated” status with the Crips. As an affiliated associate of the Crips, Manny embedded
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himself in a high risk criminal network. Through his criminal embeddedness in the street gang culture, Manny developed numerous criminal ties. During Time 2, he had developed several close friendships with members of the Crips. These social ties provided him with easy accessibility to firearms, drugs and more importantly social status. However, like Sly, his criminal embeddedness in these criminal contexts socially isolated him from conventional social networks which prevented the acquisition and accumulation of positive social capital. The costs of his criminal embeddedness and affiliation with the Crips greatly increased the likelihood of victimization. Although he was affiliated with the Crips, his “affiliated” status did not entitle him to mandatory back-up. Eventually, Manny fought a Blood over a dice game and as a retaliatory act by the Bloods he was violently attacked by three members of that gang. This violent attack resulted in his hospitalization. When sample members were unable to generate and accumulate positive family, community and peer group based social capital over time they were more likely to engage and/or persist in serious violence. The accumulation of negative social capital over time known as “criminal capitalization” also resulted in the likelihood of these sample members engaging in acts of serious violence as both offenders and victims.
FINAL THOUGHTS In conclusion, there is much needed research on social capital within schools, communities and families and how social capital influences youth behavior, specifically, serious youth violence. Social capital and ethnography appear to be innovative contemporary conceptual tools and research methods that are ripe for the task of examining the social resources embedded within communities, schools and families that at-risk youth may utilize to escape ghetto poverty and violence. How social capital is generated and accumulated by communities, families and schools for the success of at-risk is still an area which is more assumed by researchers than examined. Consequently, researchers and theorists should develop a more sophisticated approach towards conceptualizing, measuring and incorporating social capital and ethnographic methods into research agendas that will assist in increasing our understanding of the effects of social capital on adolescent advantage or disadvantage.
REFERENCES Anderson, E. (1990). Streetwise, class, and change in an urban community. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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Clear, T., & Rose, D. (1998). Incarceration, social capital and crime: Implications for social disorganization theory. Criminology, 36(3), 441–478. Coleman, J. S. (1990). Foundations of social theory. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Cose, E. (2002). The envy of the world: On being a black man in America. New York: Washington Square Press. Furstenberg, F. F., & Hughes, M. E. (1995). Social capital and successful development among at-risk youth. Journal of Marriage and Family, 57, 580–592. Granovetter, M. (1973). The strength of weak ties. American Journal of Sociology, 78(6), 1360–1382. Hagan, J. (1993). Structural disinvestment and the new ethnographies of poverty and crime. Contemporary Sociology, 22, 327–331. Hagan, J. (1994a). Crime and disrepute. Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press. Hagan, J. (1994b). The new sociology of crime and inequality in America. Studies in Crime and Crime Prevention, 3, 7–23. Sampson, R. J. (1987). Urban black violence: The effect of male joblessness and family disruption. American Journal of Sociology, 93, 348–382. Shaw, C. R., & McKay, H. D. (1942). Juvenile delinquency and urban areas. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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APPENDIX The appendix includes social network time charts for each sample member. Social network charts were broken into two time periods, Time 1 (12–14 years old, early adolescence) and Time 2 (14–16 years old, mid adolescence). Each network chart was supported by ethnographic narratives which describe in rich detail the quality and nature of the relationships and ties. Strength of ties was based on the frequency of interaction between the sample member and members of the social network. Granovetter’s Strength of Weak Ties (1973) was incorporated in the social network analysis to determine whether weak ties would allow greater information, knowledge and resources to flow into the network.
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PART IV: MARGINALITY AND THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF ETHNICITY AND GENDER IDENTITY
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ETHNIC BOUNDARIES AND INTERMEDIARIES IN THE RESETTLEMENT OF INDOCHINESE REFUGEES Jeremy Hein INTRODUCTION Robert E. Park’s model of race and ethnic relations has been the subject of considerable criticism in the recent revival of research on diversity. Yet one of the most enduring concepts in Park’s work is that of the “marginal man.” The idea that the interaction of different groups often creates individuals who share the identities of both but are fully accepted by neither has persisted in the social science literature since first introduced by Park in 1928. Gunnar Myrdal ([1944] 1964) believed the contradiction between the American creed and white racism promoted marginality among African Americans. David Riessman (1954) identified as marginal other directed people who forsook their identities without being able to acquire those they sought. Robert Merton (1968) located marginal individuals within his concept of reference groups, where individuals lost acceptance in their own groups before they achieved acceptance in new groups. Although it fits well with theories of ethnicity emphasizing the social construction of ethnic boundaries (Nagel, 1994), the concept marginality is not as widely used as it might be. In this chapter, I argue that marginality makes two theoretical contributions to the social constructionist perspective of ethnicity.
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First, it calls attention to the fact that ethnic boundaries connect groups and often overlap. This observation provides theoretical balance to the prevailing emphasis on the reactive, and thus mutually exclusive, formation of ethnic identities (Hannan, 1979; Nagel & Olzak, 1982; Olzak, 1992; Portes, 1984). Second, the concept marginality provides a means for making macro-micro linkages within the social constructionist perspective, an essential task given that this perspective seeks to explain the formation of social identities (Hein, 1994; Waters, 1990). At the macrolevel, the intersection of ethnic boundaries creates marginal positions that perform bridging functions between groups. Self-selection or recruitment often channel marginal individuals into these marginal positions. To illustrate these insights, this chapter analyzes how the resettlement of Indochinese refugees under the auspices of the welfare state creates overlapping ethnic boundaries, marginal positions within these boundaries, and marginal individuals within these positions. Voluntary agencies partially funded by the federal government to assist refugees shape the refugees’ initial adaptation through location of housing, type of work, and use of the social welfare system. Caseworkers must negotiate refugees’ acceptance of these resettlement plans. Agencies recruit refugees for this intermediary role, and they tend to hire former minorities, particularly ethnic Chinese from Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. Fieldwork in New York City and San Francisco reveals that the greater the marginality experienced by caseworkers due to conflict between the refugee community and the agencies, the greater the proportion of ethnic Chinese in these jobs. But regardless of work setting, ethnic Chinese give career reasons for doing the work while Vietnamese, Laotians, and Cambodians give altruism as their motive, indicating how self-selection and recruitment locate marginal individuals in marginal positions that bridge ethnic boundaries.
MARGINALITY AND THE MARGINAL INDIVIDUAL Park’s conception of the marginal individual evolved from his work on urban ecology, race relations, and the assimilation of immigrants. He first outlined the theory of the marginal individual in his 1928 article “Human Migrations and the Marginal Man.” Influenced by an ecological model of race and ethnic relations, Park believed that group interactions followed a sequence: contact, competition, accommodation, and assimilation. Between contact and assimilation the model depicts both positive and negative encounters as groups previously isolated from each establish their cultural, economic, and territorial boundaries. While it is now known that assimilation is not a predestined outcome for all race and ethnic relations, interaction across ethnic boundaries is very much central to
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modern research on diversity (Lamphere, 1992). According to Park, along these boundaries are unique individuals who embody the overlapping of groups and the social conflict such contact often entails. In his introduction to Everett V. Stonequist’s book (1937, p. xvii) The Marginal Man, Park writes: “The marginal man is a personality type that arises at a time and place where, out of the conflict of races and cultures, new societies, new peoples, and new cultures are coming into existence.” Stonequist went further than Park in elaborating how certain individuals came to represent the larger process of social change that occurred when groups interacted for the first time. Park’s belief that “racial and cultural hybrids” constituted a unique personality greatly influenced Stonequist’s thinking about marginality. While emphasizing the psychological dimension of marginality more than Park, Stonequist retained Park’s interest in the societal roles of marginal individuals: The marginal man is the key personality in the contacts and fusions of cultures. It is in his mind that the cultures come together, conflict and eventually work out some form of adjustment and interpenetration. His life history incorporates the objective cultural process; his mind reveals it’s motivations and meanings; and his actions define its particular procedures and goals (Stonequist, 1964, pp. 343, 344).
For both Park and Stonequist, marginal individuals experienced intense strain because of their affiliation with divergent, often conflicting, groups. The experience of being “on the margins of two cultures and not fully or permanently accommodated to either” is the feeling most universally associated with marginality (Park, 1950, p. 370). Nonetheless, marginality is more than an individual’s sense of psychological stress resulting from an uncertain social identity. Marginal individuals embody group relations at the micro-level, and their dilemmas result from conflicting group memberships rather than personal troubles: [A] sense of moral dichotomy and conflict is probably characteristic of every immigrant during the period of transition, when old habits are being discarded and new ones are not yet formed . . . . [Yet] it is in the mind of the marginal man that the turmoil which new cultural contacts occasion, manifests itself in the most obvious forms. It is in the mind of the marginal man – where changes and fusions of culture are going on – that we can best study the process of civilization and progress (Park, 1950, pp. 355, 356).
This conception of marginality, both Park and Stonequist acknowledged, came from their reading of Georg Simmel’s ([1908] 1950) essay “The Stranger.” Building on his analogy between physical and social space, Simmel drew upon his experiences as a German Jew to conceptualize the stranger as a social type (Coser, 1977). The stranger is apart from the group, but must interact with it, and thus is socially close and distant at the same time. Yet it is only “when the stranger seeks to identify himself integrally with the group into which he has moved, [and] is
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held at arms length, that he has evolved into the marginal position” (Stonequist, 1937, p. 178). Thus in contrast to the common sense meaning of marginality as exclusion, Simmel identified marginality as inclusion without acceptance. Drawing upon his theory that conflict drew groups into a close relationship and promoted rather than limited interaction, Simmel argued that strangers often choose to shuttle between cultures. Frequently they perform intermediary roles, such as Jewish entrepreneurs in Europe during the middle ages. Stonequist also noted that marginal individuals often performed intermediary roles. In European colonies, Stonequist observed, businesses and governments often employed “Westernized Africans” and “Anglo-Indians” because of their bicultural skills. Among European immigrants in the United States, the partially assimilated often adopted the intermediary role of interpreter or teacher. The founders of the concept marginality clearly laid out a model describing how the intersection of ethnic boundaries creates marginal positions frequently performed by marginal individuals. Two forms of marginality are implicit in this model. Simmel articulates a structural view in which marginality is a position between opposed groups that is often formalized into an intermediary role. Stonequist presents a more psychological conception in which marginality is an identity among individuals whose group affiliations are derived from opposed groups.
MARGINALITY AND THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF ETHNICITY Simmel, Park, and Stonequist’s concept of marginality is an untapped theoretical resource for contemporary theories of ethnicity based on the social constructionist perspective. According to this perspective, members of an ethnic group actively shape their ethnicity. This view differs from an earlier perspective that defined ethnicity as a deeply rooted identity based on lineage, values, and other primordial traits (Issacs, 1975; van den Berghe, 1981). In contrast, most contemporary theories consider ethnicity to be emergent (Yancey et al., 1979), symbolic (Gans, 1979), reactive (Portes, 1984), and situational (Waters, 1990); in short, a social construction (Nagel, 1994). The constructionist perspective draws heavily on Barth’s (1969) concept of an ethnic boundary to conceptualize ethnic identity. Rather than ethnicity emanating from the cultural content of a group, it is the group’s social organization that demarcates one ethnic group from another and shapes the meaning of ethnicity. Thus from the social constructionist perspective:
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the origin, content, and form of ethnicity reflect the creative choices of individuals and groups as they define themselves and others in ethnic ways. Through the actions and designations of ethnic groups, their antagonists, political authorities, and economic interests groups, ethnic boundaries are erected dividing some populations and unifying others. Ethnicity is constructed out of the material of language, religion, culture, appearance, ancestry, or regionality. The location and meaning of particular ethnic boundaries are continuously negotiated, revised, and revitalized, both by ethnic group members themselves as well as by outside observers (Nagel, 1994, p. 152).
Because ethnic boundaries connect just as much as they separate, group interaction is a central mechanism in boundary construction. Yet interaction inevitably leads to some overlapping group affiliations, such as in workplaces and administrative bureaus. These settings contain marginal positions that require particular individuals to perform boundary maintenance functions. These intermediary functions between opposed groups can engender marginality for the people who perform them. People who are already marginal, however, can enter these positions through self-selection or recruitment. The resettlement of Indochinese refugees in the United States offers an important case for analyzing this process.
RESEARCH METHODS AND DATA During 1982–1983, I was a participant observer in a New York City voluntary agency that resettles Indochinese refugees and interviewed Indochinese caseworkers at six agencies. During 1984–1985, I was a participant observer in the New York agency’s affiliate in San Francisco and interviewed caseworkers at seven agencies. In all I obtained information on 15 resettlement organizations: five of the ten national voluntary agencies that resettle Indochinese refugees in both their San Francisco and the New York offices, three other agencies in San Francisco only, and two other resettlement organizations in New York only. The New York survey represents the Indochinese staff of five voluntary agencies, a refugee employment project, and a mutual assistance association. The last organization had a Vietnamese director but it was still part of the American social welfare system: it had clients, not members, lacked a mechanism for refugees to influence policy, and depended completely on federal and state funding. I selected these agencies for breadth: they represented the most prominent organizations involved in resettlement in 1983, a period of heavy refugee influx. The San Francisco survey represents the Indochinese staff employed between 1980 and 1985 at eight voluntary agencies operating during this period (one no longer existed
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by 1985 and I obtained information about it from its former director). Ethnicity of past workers was determined through interviews with current staff and/or agency supervisors. I selected these agencies to gain historical depth: 1985 was a period with a low arrival rate, and the area had a longer history of Indochinese resettlement than did New York. As a participant observer I assisted caseworkers with their work, attended office meetings to discuss cases and policy, worked with agency records, and held discussions with supervisors. Altogether I obtained information on 89 past and current Indochinese caseworkers and interviewed 36 (18 in New York and 18 in San Francisco). I obtained permission from agency supervisors and from the caseworkers themselves before holding the interviews, which were conducted in English. I used a short questionnaire on demographic characteristics, and then asked open-ended questions on life histories and work-related problems to produce a dialogue with the caseworkers. At the end of my field work I had interviewed all the Indochinese caseworkers in San Francisco voluntary agencies, and (because of access problems) four-fifths of those in the New York agencies, at each respective time.
ETHNIC BOUNDARIES AND MARGINAL POSITIONS There were only 18,000 Vietnamese in the country when the first wave of refugees arrived in 1975. By 1991, there were more than 1 million refugees from Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia in the United States. From the beginning, the American state took a direct role in promoting the adaptation of the refugees by funding social welfare programs for them (Hein, 1993a). Formally institutionalized by the Refugee Act of 1980, the refugee resettlement program consists of the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR) in the Department of Health and Human Services, and the Bureau of Population, Refugees, and Migration (BPRM) in the State Department. Most funding for refugees comes from the ORR, which reimburses the states for refugees’ public assistance and medical costs, and directly funds social services related to employment and language training. However, the greatest contact between refugees and social welfare organizations occurs in the voluntary agencies that sponsor the refugees to United States (Hein, 1993b). The BPRM provides a per capita grant to the voluntary agencies for each refugee they sponsor. As a result of this state sponsored resettlement, one of the most salient ethnic boundaries between the refugees and American society occurs within the voluntary agencies that provide essential social services to the refugees for their first few months in the United States. Manning this boundary are caseworkers recruited from the refugee population. Typically working under native white supervisors and without social work degrees, these paraprofessional caseworkers serve as
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intermediaries between refugee communities and resettlement officials. A manual used in their training describes the job in terms that Simmel, Park, and Stonequist would have immediately recognized as a recipe for marginality: As a human service worker with one foot in each culture you . . . have some special roles to play. You will not only be a counselor but a translator, an interpreter, and a mediator. You will have to play these roles for your clients, your co-workers, your supervisors, your agency and perhaps even for policy makers at all levels of government and administration (Friedman et al., 1981, p. 2).
Caseworkers’ position in voluntary agencies is marginal because they must represent two groups – the refugee community and social service providers – who frequently have opposed interests. The degree of marginality entailed by this intermediary position, however, varies with the structure of local ethnic boundaries.
Variation in Resettlement Policy Indochinese caseworkers are a type of “street-level bureaucrat” who face resource limitations and contradictory expectations in implementing public policy designed at a higher administrative level (Lipsky, 1980). These constraints often lead to conflict with clients. In the field of refugee resettlement, the use of public assistance by refugees is the greatest area of contention between caseworkers and clients. According to the ORR (1988, p. 157): “Welfare dependency is probably the most commonly used measurement to assess the status of the domestic refugee resettlement program and the progress that refugees are making in becoming selfsufficient.” A native white supervisor of a welfare office reports how this policy can produce marginality for caseworkers, who are expected to represent the often mutually-exclusive interests of refugees and the social welfare system: “My staff, who were themselves former refugees, were accused and suspected [by welfare department officials] of enticing the refugees to apply for assistance” (Pullen, 1986, p. 48). Resettlement policy varies by region, however, and the importance of public assistance differs in each locale. In New York City it was a major source of marginality for caseworkers, while in San Francisco it was less important. In New York City caseworkers had to make agonizing decisions about whether a refugee should apply for cash public assistance – and thus be able to enter English or job training programs – or take a low-paying job which offered little chance for advancement. Clients preferred the former, agencies the latter. Caseworkers’ intermediary function was to adjudicate this conflict on a caseby-case basis, and native supervisors monitored their decisions regarding public assistance. Caseworkers’ decisions provided supervisors with a means to evaluate
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their position in the conflict between agency directives and loyalty to the refugee community. Supervisors at several New York agencies confirmed the marginal position of caseworkers in discussing their attrition. Some caseworkers left because of pressure from clients who accused them of siding with the agency by asking them to take jobs they did not want. Other caseworkers were forced out by supervisors who believed that “they were not pushing the work ethic enough.” One supervisor’s description of events during the summer of 1981 indicates just how intense this conflict could become: The Cambodians were pushed to work too fast by our agency and other voluntary agencies because of staff’s heavy caseloads. We treated them like previous groups because there wasn’t time to change resettlement procedures. Unlike the Vietnamese they didn’t come here with their families intact. They didn’t have the support they needed. In the end the Cambodians united against us and refused to look for work.
While caseworkers in New York City battled with clients, events in San Francisco had restructured the ethnic boundary between refugees and American social welfare organizations, diminishing the marginal position of caseworkers there. Beginning in 1980, California resettlement policy sought to prepare clients for life and work in the United States through language training, vocational education, and cultural adjustment services, rather than requiring them to seek immediate employment in any type of job. In 1981 the California Office of Refugee Services designated a Southeast Asian mutual assistance association to coordinate the evaluation and service referrals of all refugees in San Francisco. Caseworkers in voluntary agencies had previously performed this task, and the policy greatly reduced their major source of conflict with clients. As one caseworker recounted: Between 1975 and 1979 our job was hard. We had to push our clients to go to work. If they didn’t accept our ideas of resettlement we wouldn’t help them. I had a lot of fights with my clients then. Many wrote letters to our director in New York City and to congressmen. Then in 1980 we stopped pushing people to work and only encouraged them. Now my job is a lot easier.
In San Francisco there was an abundance of government-funded refugee services and a policy that encouraged refugees to acquire language and job skills before entering the labor market. New York City had few services specifically for refugees and resettlement policy stressed that employment precede training. Caseworkers occupied marginal positions in both cities, but the irreconcilable group affiliations that created this marginality was more severe in New York City, where resettlement policy stressed early employment.
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Variation in Refugee Community Organization In Southeast Asia the most prevalent norms governing help seeking are to confine to the family problems that would create public shame and to avoid confronting others directly with problems that could cause public embarrassment (Khoa, 1981). American social services are based on a very different set of norms and the refugees’ need to “save face” inhibits their use of these services (Egawa & Tashima, 1981). Some suggest that caseworkers can overcome this service barrier by linking the American system to the helping network of the ethnic community (Moon & Tashima, 1982). The presence of a Vietnamese, Laotian, or Cambodian community, however, is itself problematic for caseworkers. Indochinese communities did not exist when the first refugees arrived in 1975, and federal policy has supported their dispersal since that time. Thus community building is a task that falls to resettlement agencies and therefore to caseworkers. Their failure to carry out this task in a manner compatible with agency policy and ethnic conceptions of helping can further heighten their already marginal position. In New York community building was an important task; in San Francisco it was not important. The refugees who arrived in New York City in the early 1980s generally were not received by relatives. Although the Indochinese numbered some 8,000 in all, the difficulties of locating inexpensive apartments adjacent to each other, and the reluctance of resettlement agencies to “ghettoize an area” because of the potential for racial tensions, led to small, dispersed refugee settlements. New arrivals had difficulty in reuniting with compatriots, and caseworkers needed to undertake community-building activities. Thus caseworkers in New York were more intrusive into clients’ lives and this behavior conflicted with a cultural reticence on the refugees’ part. One caseworker articulated a common sentiment when she remarked: “I try to avoid saying anything that will make a client angry. I will usually ask a friend or neighbor to tell him.” Another stated: “I try to put all my clients together so that I can ask them to help each other out, even pick up new arrivals at the airport. It’s easier for me that way.” Caseworkers attempted to create an ethnic helping network in response to the marginality generated by community-building activities. In San Francisco, most resettlement provisions were made by a relative or by the refugees themselves, leading to a substantially different ethnic boundary than the one that existed in New York. The Bay Area has been a popular resettlement location among the Indochinese since 1975, when the Tenderloin area of San Francisco rapidly became the commercial and residential center for the nearly 20,000 Indochinese in the city, facilitating the ability of new arrivals to be selfreliant. Voluntary agencies considered San Francisco an “impacted area” by 1980 because there was one Indochinese refugee for every 53 inhabitants, the lowest
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ratio in the country. As a result, the only refugees from overseas sent to the city were those sponsored by an immediate relative residing there. This individual, termed “the U.S. relative,” became responsible for providing services that a caseworker would have provided if the arrival had been what the agencies called a “direct case.” The residual intermediary functions of San Francisco caseworkers consisted of negotiating the relatives’ helping role, rather than supplying services directly to clients. One caseworker reported: I call a sponsor and say you have relatives coming next month – you have to find them jobs, or register them with welfare, and housing. If the relative is in school they can help a lot, but if they work, one of us will have to find a friend to help.
The San Francisco agencies use of Southeast Asian kinship to facilitate their operations, combined with the size and density of the Indochinese community, diminished the marginality associated with caseworkers’ intermediary role. Conversely, the pattern of refugee arrivals and the housing situation in New York inhibited the development of Indochinese communities and exacerbated the marginal position of caseworkers there.
RECRUITING FOR A MARGINAL POSITION The 36 caseworkers I interviewed had the following occupational backgrounds in their homelands: 12 in American government, military, or business; 12 with no work background (they had been high school or college students); seven in the private sector (business and the professions); and five in the civil service or army. These occupational backgrounds contrast sharply with those of the predominantly agricultural labor forces of Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. They are less atypical when compared with the occupational backgrounds of Indochinese refugees in the United States, only 18% of whom were farmers or fishers, while 43% were sales or clerical workers, and 13% were professional and managerial workers (U.S. ORR, 1985 [a source contemporaneous with my interviews]). Nonetheless, caseworkers usually have a higher class status than their clients. The ethnicity of caseworkers, however, is what most differentiates them from clients. Ethnic Chinese constituted 42% of my survey of 89 Indochinese caseworkers from New York City and San Francisco. As of 1975 the ethnic Chinese formed less than 5% of the combined populations of Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia (Center for Applied Linguistics, 1981). Rumbaut and Weeks (1986) found that the ethnic Chinese made up 17% of San Diego’s Indochinese population. My discussions with caseworkers indicate that the ethnic Chinese might comprise about 20% of all Indochinese refugees in the United States.
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The ethnic Chinese in my sample are marginal individuals because of their group’s historical position in Southeast Asia as a middleman minority (Bonacich & Modell, 1980). They were recruited by European colonialists to introduce a money economy to the indigenous peasant society, an ideal-typic example of the marginal individual (Burling, 1965). Since the colonial period they have continued their intermediary functions as a prosperous commercial class linking peasants with urban markets (Esman, 1975). Indeed, of the fifteen ethnic Chinese interviewed in my sample, seven had worked for a U.S. organization in their homeland. Yet ethnic Chinese refugees in the U.S. have been unable to reproduce an entrepreneurial niche, and lag in cultural and economic adaptation in comparison to other Vietnamese (Desbarats, 1986). They are not accepted as Chinese by immigrants from Hong Kong, Taiwan, or mainland China, nor can they identify fully with the Vietnamese community (Gold, 1992). This combination of contradictory identities meets the criteria for marginality. The fact that this marginal position contains ethnic Chinese at more than twice their proportion in the Indochinese population requires explaining how marginal individuals come to serve as intermediaries in an ethnic boundary. An assistant director at a voluntary agency notes that budget limits and the ethnic diversity of refugee migrations pressure agencies to hire refugees who have the broadest ethnic group affiliations and who speak several languages (Wright, 1981). Through this recruitment strategy, agencies can serve the greatest number of clients while minimizing the number of staff members hired. Thus agencies recruit members of their client population who were minorities in their homeland. One San Francisco supervisor recalled organizing the agency’s office in 1975: “Our staff was initially our clients or their friends. They all started as volunteers: three Americans, six Vietnamese, and one Chinese Lao. Only the Chinese Lao was hired specifically for language ability.” This comment suggests the different motives of ethnic Chinese and other Indochinese for entering a marginal position, the subject of the next section. Selective recruitment by voluntary agencies on the basis of linguistic skills leads cumulatively to the over representation of minorities. Of 40 Indochinese caseworkers in the New York City survey, 63% were members of minority groups from mainland Southeast Asia: the ethnic Chinese accounted for 48%, while the remainder were Cambodian and Laotian minorities from Vietnam. Of 49 Indochinese caseworkers in the San Francisco survey, 37% were members of minority groups of which almost all were ethnic Chinese. The greater prevalence of marginal individuals in New York than in San Francisco agencies suggests that variation in the structure of ethnic boundaries shapes the recruitment of individuals into marginal positions. The greater
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marginality of the intermediary roles in New York led to greater recruitment of marginal individuals to fill them. To gauge more precisely the association between the marginality of an intermediary role and the hiring of marginal individuals, I distinguished two types of voluntary agencies in San Francisco. On the basis of their organizational relationship with clients, I noted whether agencies had routinized resettlement methods or negotiated the methods for each new case. The ethnic Chinese made up 51% of the combined Indochinese staff of those San Francisco agencies that negotiated services with clients (five in all), where caseworkers occupied more marginal positions due to greater demands that they serve as intermediaries. This figure is about the same as that found for the New York agencies as a whole (48%), where marginality was high in all work settings. The ethnic Chinese represented only 19% of the staff at those San Francisco agencies that routinized services with clients (three in all), where caseworkers occupied less marginal positions because they performed fewer intermediary tasks. This figure is nearly identical to the proportion of ethnic Chinese in the Indochinese population as a whole, estimated to be 20%. This strong relationship between the marginality of an intermediary job and the hiring of marginal individuals to patrol an ethnic boundary can be substantiated further by analyzing two intermediary jobs in the Refugee Resettlement Program in the San Francisco Department of Public Assistance. The “intake” job is highly marginal, while the “carrying” job is much less so. One voluntary agency director, formerly employed by the Department of Public Assistance, describes the two jobs and clearly identifies the intake job as the most marginal: Intake workers see more of clients, more face-to-face contact and hours. Carrying is mostly by phone and through forms. Intake workers establish eligibility. They have a book of rules this thick, but clients don’t fit the rule book so the workers really have to interact with them. Intake workers are the front-line workers who don’t always know which side of the line they are on.
Consistent with the pattern found in the resettlement agencies, ethnic Chinese accounted for 57% of the seven intake workers, but only 15% of the 20 carrying workers. The other workers were from Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia, or Hong Kong, Taiwan, and American-born Chinese (these Chinese were evenly distributed between the two jobs). Altogether I have presented five occupational environments in which caseworkers work: all New York City resettlement agencies; routinized and negotiating voluntary agencies in San Francisco; and intake and carrying jobs in the Refugee Resettlement Program in the San Francisco Department of Public Assistance. In contrast to the proportion of 20% ethnic Chinese in the Indochinese population, the proportions ranged from 57% ethnic Chinese at the intake job to 15% at the carrying job. The mean value was 52% at the three jobs where
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moderate to intense marginality was present; 17% was the mean at the two jobs where marginality was minimal.
SELF-SELECTION FOR A MARGINAL POSITIONS During the life-history portion of the interviews I sought to discover why these caseworkers worked in such stressful intermediary jobs rather than other occupations. I found three types of motives – altruism, career advancement, and a combination of the two – which were closely related to the workers’ ethnicity. Responses citing the plight of specific refugee groups, the help required by refugees in general, or an affinity for helping people indicated the altruistic motive. An unambiguous statement of this motive came from one Vietnamese: “I am Vietnamese so I want to help other Vietnamese.” He had worked in every regime to occupy his country since the 1930s: France before 1940, the Japanese during World War Two, the Viet Minh before partition in 1954, and the United States until 1975. But he interpreted his occupational career without citing any of these intermediary experiences. Altogether 16 caseworkers expressed this orientation; all were Vietnamese, Laotian, and Cambodian. Even if these caseworkers are exaggerating their commitment to the job, it is still significant that only those from the majority ethnic groups felt compelled to present an altruistic motive for doing an intermediary job. Responses indicating a career-advancement motive cited the linguistic skills necessary for the job, the relevance of prior employment, and the monetary or prestige value of the job. A Chinese Vietnamese expressed a purely career motive that emphasized her work as an intermediary: “I already knew English and had worked for the [United States] government in my country and as a translator in a [refugee] camp in Thailand.” A Chinese Cambodian, whose family had owned an agricultural transportation business, drew a direct parallel between his role in Cambodia and that in the United States: “It’s just like in Cambodia. Most of my clients were farmers. There the Chinese run their lives by buying what they grow. Here I have to tell them what to do.” Altogether 14 caseworkers described their motivation in terms of an occupational career; all but one were ethnic Chinese. Responses indicating a mixed motivation combined commitment to refugees with career goals. One Chinese Vietnamese explained, “I wanted to help my people. I worked at the Department of Social Services for a short time. Then I got this job. Now I’m interested in employment development – how to help them become more self-sufficient.” Another ethnic Chinese stated, “I’ve been doing [resettlement work] a few years and have adopted the American way a lot. I’ve learned a lot from American social workers. I like a job where I can help people
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help themselves.” Altogether five ethnic Chinese and one Lao Vietnamese held this orientation. All were women, and two-thirds had worked for an American organization in their homeland. The fact that only women combined altruistic with career motives suggests that gender may influence an individual’s ability to adapt to a marginal position.
CONCLUSION Park’s model of race and ethnic relations has drawn considerable criticism in recent years (some of it well deserved), yet his concept marginality continues to provide important insights into the nature of race and ethnic relations. When used within a social constructionist perspective, marginality makes two contributions: reconceptualizing an ethnic boundary and making macro-micro linkages between boundaries and individuals. The social constructionist perspective of ethnicity examines how groups create ethnic boundaries, often by interacting with adversaries, to give themselves a distinct identity. Park conceived of marginality as the result of intergroup contacts that create contradictory identities. Building upon insights from Simmel and Stonequist, one can distinguish between a marginal position created by overlapping ethnic boundaries, and a marginal identity resulting from affiliations with opposed groups. The social constructionist perspective tends to portray ethnic boundaries as isolated from each other, as if there were a social void between them. Yet group relations without group contact (for example, what Park termed competition), are much less common than group relations with contact (either in the form of conflict or accommodation, to use Park’s terms). Boundaries separate groups, but they also connect groups. An almost inevitable consequence of boundary contact is the overlapping of groups in some settings. The resulting conflicts in group affiliations for individuals who are simultaneously members of both groups, but fully members of neither, create marginal individuals. Marginality also contributes to the social constructionist perspective of ethnicity by making a link between macro and micro levels, and essential task for this perspective given that it seeks to explain the creation of identities. Along the seam connecting one ethnic group to another are intermediary roles that perform bridging functions. These roles generate marginality because the individuals performing them must cross the boundaries they patrol to knit the groups together. Given the marginality engendered by this position, it is not uncommon for previously marginal individuals to enter them through self-selection or recruitment. The resettlement system for Indochinese refugees illustrates this process. It reveals the formation of an ethnic boundary; the resulting interaction of distinct
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ethnic groups; how this interaction creates marginal positions through intermediary roles; the process by which marginal individuals are recruited into these roles; and how these individuals then define these roles in ways consistent with their identities. Specifically, resettlement under the auspices of the welfare state transforms Indochinese refugees from political migrants to welfare clients, thus creating an ethnic boundary between the refugees and American society within social welfare organizations. The organizations providing social services need some refugees as intermediaries. These refugees are employed as caseworkers, and the marginality of their jobs is greatly influenced by the goals of resettlement policy (work or social services) and the organization of the refugee community (emerging or established). Marginality for caseworkers is greatest in locales where policy emphasizes early employment and in which the refugee community is still in its early stage of development. The marginal position of ethnic intermediaries is directly related to the structure of the ethnic boundaries in which they operate. Refugees from the upper strata of their homelands’ class hierarchy, many of whom had worked for the U.S. government before the socialist revolutions of 1975, fill these intermediary roles. More importantly, ethnic Chinese and other minorities from Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia are over represented in these jobs at more than double their proportion in the Indochinese refugee population as a whole. Not only are marginal individuals recruited for an intermediary role, but they are particularly prevalent in those work settings that engender the most marginality. But regardless of which ethnic boundary they patrol, former minorities tend to view their work as part of an occupational career, while those from the majority groups overwhelmingly express an altruistic motive for being intermediaries. Just as when Park first wrote about marginality in the 1920s, international migration continues to connect disparate groups and create marginal positions and identities.
REFERENCES Barth, F. (1969). Ethnic groups and boundaries. Boston: Little and Brown. Bonacich, E., & Modell, J. (1980). The economic basis of ethnic solidarity. Berkeley: University of California Press. Burling, G. (1965). Hill farms and paddy fields. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Center for Applied Linguistics (1981). The peoples and cultures of Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. Washington, DC: Center for Applied Linguistics. Coser, L. A. (1977). Masters of sociological thought: Ideas in historical and social context. New York: Harcourt Brace Javanovich. Desbarats, J. (1986). Ethnic differences in adaptation: Sino-Vietnamese refugees in the United States. International Migration Review, 74, 405–427. Egawa, J., & Tashima, N. (1981). Alternative service delivery models in Pacific/Asian communities. San Franicisco: Pacific Asian Mental Health Research Project.
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Esman, M. J. (1975). Communal conflict in Southeast Asia. In: N. Glazer & D. P. Moynihan (Eds), Ethnicity: Theory and Experience (pp. 391–419). Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Gans, H. (1979). Symbolic ethnicity: The future of ethnic groups and cultures in America. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 2(1), 1–20. Gold, S. J. (1992). Refugee communities: A comparative field study. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Friedman, J., Tobin, J. J., & Koschman, N. L. (1981). Working with refugees: A manual for paraprofessionals. Chicago: Travelers Aid/Immigrant Service. Hannan, M. T. (1979). The dynamics of ethnic boundaries in modern states. In: J. Meyer & M. T. Hannan (Eds), National Development and the World System (pp. 253–275). Chicago: University of Chicago Publications. Hein, J. (1993a). States and international migrants: The incorporation of Indochinese refugees in the United States and France. Boulder: Westview Press. Hein, J. (1993b). International migrants or welfare clients: The selection of a master status for Indochinese refugees by American volunary agencies. Journal of Sociology and Social Welfare, 20(1), 115–130. Hein, J. (1994). From migrant to minority: Hmong refugees and the social construction of identity in the United States. Sociological Inquiry, 64(3), 281–306. Issacs, H. R. (1975). Idols of the tribe: Group identity and political change. New York: Harper & Row. Khoa, L. X. (1981). Southeast Asian social and cultural customs: Their contribution to resettlement. Journal of Refugee Resettlement, 1, 27–47. Lamphere, L. (1992). Introduction: The shaping of diversity. In: L. Lamphere (Ed.), Structuring Diversity: Ethnographic Pespectives on the New Immigration (pp.1–34). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lipsky, M. (1980). Street-level bureaucrats. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Merton, R. (1968). Social theory and social structure. New York: Free Press. Moon, A., & Tashima, N. (1982). Help seeking behavior and attitudes of Southeast Asian refugees. San Francisco: Pacific Asian Mental Health Research Project. Myrdal, G. ([1944] 1964). An American dilemma. New York: McGraw-Hill. Nagel, J. (1994). Constructing ethnicity: Creating and recreating ethnic identity and culture. Social Problems, 41(1), 152–176. Nagel, J., & Olzak, S. (1982). Ethnic mobilization in new and old states: An extension of the competition model. Social Problems, 30, 127–143. Olzak, S. (1992). The dynamics of ethnic competition and conflict. Stanford: Stanford University Publications. Park, R. E. (1928). Human migration and the marginal man. American Journal of Sociology (May), 881–893. Park, R. E. (1950). Race and culture. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Portes, A. (1984). The rise of ethnicity: Determinants of ethnic perceptions among Cuban exiles in Miami. American Sociological Review, 49(3), 383–397. Pullen, J. (1986). Resettlement [second panelist]. In: P. I. Rose (Ed.), Working with Refugees (pp. 48–51). New York: Center for Migration Studies. Riessman, D. (1954). Individualism reconsidered. Glencoe. IL: Free Press. Rumbaut, R., & Weeks, J. (1986). Fertility and adaptation: Indochinese refugees in the United States. International Migration Review, 20, 428–465. Simmel, G. ([1908] 1950). In: K. W. Wolff (Ed.), The Sociology of Georg Simmel. Glencoe, IL: Free Press.
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Stonequist, E. V. (1964). The marginal man. In: E. W. Burgess & D. J. Bogue (Eds), Contributions to Urban Sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Stonequist, E. V. (1937). The marginal man. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. U.S. Office of Refugee Resettlement (1985). Report to Congress: Refugee resettlement program. Washington, DC: Department of Health and Human Services. U.S. Office of Refugee Resettlement (1988). Report to Congress: Refugee resettlement program. Washington, DC: Department of Health and Human Services. van den Berghe, P. L. (1981). The ethnic phenomenon. New York: Elsevier. Waters, M. C. (1990). Ethnic options: Choosing identities in America. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wright, R. G. (1981). Voluntary agencies and the resettlement of refugees. International Migration Review, 15, 157–174. Yancey, W., Erickson, E., & Juliani, R. (1979). Emergent ethnicity: A review and reformulation. American Sociological Review, 41, 391–403.
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MARGINALIZING THE MAJORITY: MIGRATION AND THE SOCIAL CONSTRUCTION OF IDENTITY AMONG UIGHUR MUSLIM WOMEN IN CHINA Sadat Obol INTRODUCTION This study examines changes in the identities of Uighur Muslim women as a result of the in-migration of the Han-Chinese1 population to Xinjiang, China. Since the Communists’ rise to power in the People’s Republic of China, and the inmigration of Chinese people in massive numbers, there has been a sharp decline in the proportion of the Uighur population vis-`a-vis the Han-Chinese in Xinjiang (Gladney, 1990; McMillen, 1979). As a result, Uighurs, the indigenous population, quickly became a minority population in their own homeland. This heavy influx of Chinese into the region, along with the social, economic, and political forces of change brought about by the establishment of the People’s Republic of China and the formal annexation of Xinjiang into one of its provinces, has profoundly changed the social identities of the Uighurs. The more specific changes in the identities of the Muslim Uighur women, representing one instance of marginality being thrust upon an indigenous population by the in-migration of another more powerful group, is the central focus of this paper.
Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 191–206 © 2005 Published by Elsevier Ltd. ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12009-6
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The paper relies upon personal life histories, focusing on the experiences of two generations of Uighur women: my mother’s generation (the pre-migration generation) which came of age during the 1960s and my generation (the after migration generation) which was born during the 1960s. By focusing on these two generations within the context of the increasing influence of the Chinese population, I show that during the shift from my mother’s generation to my own, there was a move from a single source to multiple sources of marginality (women within a male dominated society) to a triple source of marginality (women within a male dominated society; Muslim within a non-Muslim society; and Uighur within a Chinese dominated society). This shift from a single source to multiple sources of marginality is important because it created opportunities for agency while, at the same time, produced new constraints and new sources of marginality.
MARGINALITY REVISITED The term marginality was adapted by Robert Park from the work of Simmel (1965). Although Simmel did not use the term “marginal man,” he conceived the marginal man as “the stranger.” According to Simmel, the “stranger” is one who is not of the group in which he or she participates, but one who brings forth qualities to it which do not and cannot originate from the group itself due to a unique position of objectivity. In “Migration and the Marginal Man,” Park characterizes marginality as a state of limbo between at least two cultural life-worlds as a result of human migration and cultural conflict (Park, 1928). More specifically, for Park, this migration of people primarily refers to the movements of a relatively small, economically, socially, and politically powerless population from rural areas into urban labor markets of the industrial, capitalist societies. Following Park’s conception of marginality, most studies of the topic have focused on instances where migrants move from the country into the city. They have therefore concentrated on instances where people in transition cross the threshold from the old world to the new;2 Or on the interactions among cultures, races, and ethnic groups.3 The subjects of these studies are characterized as experiencing marginality because they are neither able to identify fully with the world from which they left, nor with the new world which they have entered. It is for this reason, according to Park, that the marginal person is always in a state of ambivalence. Taking Park’s concept a step further, Raymond Lee (1990) argues that in some special cases of marginality, populations can convert to the dominant status within a society and change their marginalized situations. He looks at the offsprings of Chinese and Indian parents who maintain an ambivalent existence between Chinese
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and Indian communities but are able to blend into the Malay community because they look and speak like Malaysians. In his case, the Sino-Indians are different from other marginal groups because they are presented with a paradoxical choice: to remain on the fringes of the Chinese and Indian communities but still feel a sense of pride over a dual heritage, or to become a Malay and eventually lose the advantage of being an ethnic chameleon: by choosing “Malay” identity they lose the ability to be Chinese or Indian in Chinese and Indian environment. He argues that it is the availability of this choice that distinguishes them from other marginal groups. Therefore he argues that marginality is not merely a type of social powerlessness in dominant-subordinate relations, but that it can sometimes also involve choices of actions to alleviate that powerlessness. Weisberger (1992) more forcefully argues that the marginal person constructs responses designed to resolve and alleviate their double ambivalence rather than merely remaining in a state of limbo. He presents four ways in which marginal persons construct their responses to their ambivalent situation. These four ideal typical responses are: (1) assimilation; (2) return; (3) poise; and (4) transcendence. According to Weisberger, assimilation in this case, denotes the marginal person’s absorption of the host’s cultural standards, in the course of which he or she may sacrifice the practices and beliefs of the original culture, especially when the members of the host culture are hostile to the newcomer. Regarding the return response, the marginal person may double back to his or her original group after confronting the host culture. The return actually results in a reconstruction, as the one who returns, changed by his or her exposure to the host culture, interprets culture in new terms. Transcendence, in this context, would constitute the attempt to overcome the opposition of the two cultures by creating a third culture which is supposed to surpass or reconcile the other two cultures. Poise represents a response where the marginal person abides in the ambivalence, refusing to resolve it, despite the cost in loneliness or anxiety. From this perspective, the marginal person is always actively seeking out ways by which to resolve his or her marginality in society rather than merely accepting their marginal situations. Even given the advancements that have been made understanding the concept of marginality, it still needs further development. Significant in this regard is that the present conception fails to take into consideration situations where it is the indigenous population that becomes more marginalized. In the tradition of Park, the subjects of studies initially become marginalized because they or their ancestors voluntarily moved and made contacts with other cultures, races, or ethnic groups. But this idea does not encompass the complexity of marginality. Because given the right structural trends (e.g. in-migration) marginality can befall an indigenous population as well. Thus, it is not only an issue for immigrants.
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While migration is at least a tactically voluntary form of marginalization, indigenous people who experience the in-migration of powerful immigrants are faced with a completely involuntary imposition of marginality. In essence, they do not move to their marginal status, rather, their marginal status moves to them and is forced upon them. Thus, rather than focusing upon the migrants as becoming marginalized as the result of their movement, the larger context of this paper is a situation in which the social, political, and economical power of the migrant marginalizes the indigenous population. As discussed here, marginality is of a nature more complex than simple oppression. While it generally can be largely oppressive, ironically marginality can also be simultaneously partially liberating-creating new ways of thought and new avenues of agency. That is, marginality can create a dialectic of negative consequences as well as unintended benefits that allow for the possibility of new avenues for human agency. In some cases, more marginalized groups might experience career or social choices that are not readily available to the less marginalized group. For example, my mother’s generation was less marginalized (as I will show later) than my generation, yet my greater marginalization also came with many choices that were not readily available to her. In this instance we are thus discussing a dialectic: a definite trade off exists between the sacrifice of cultural and social identity due to marginalization and the increased awareness of other worlds that it creates for segments of the population. This article asserts that people do not have to migrate in order to become marginalized. Indigenous people can be reduced to a state of marginality through the in-migration into their community of a more powerful and populous group. Before proceeding with the discussion, I must provide the reader with some introductory information on Xinjiang and it’s people, the Uighurs.
THE UIGHURS IN XINJIANG The word “Xinjiang” literally means new dominion or new frontier in Chinese. It is the largest province in the People’s Republic of China. With an area of 635,829 square miles, Xinjiang occupies one-sixth of the total territory of the People’s Republic. It is located along China’s western frontier, bordering three Soviet Central Asian republics (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikstan) on the West, the Mongolian People’s Republic on the Northwest, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kashmire, and Tibet on the South, and the Qinghai and Gansu provinces in the East. Before the mass in-migration of Han-Chinese which began in 1950, the population of Xinjiang had traditionally been over 90% non-Chinese. In 1949, the major
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ethnic groups in the area and their approximate share of the region’s total population were: Uighurs (75%), Kazakhs (9%), Han-Chinese (6%), Chinese Muslims or Hui (4%),4 and others (6%) comprised of Kyrgyz, Mongols and Daurs, Manchus, Sibos and Soluns, Tajiks, Uzbecks, Tatars, and Russians (McMillen, 1979). Some 85% of Xinjiang’s peoples were Muslims in 1949. A smaller proportion were either Buddhists or Lamaistic Buddhists. The vast majority spoke Turkic languages and used the Arabic script. At that time, the population of the area was just over 4 million (McMmillen). Shortly after 1949, the Chinese Communist authorities undertook a massive program to resettle the Chinese from “China” proper to the Northwest with the intended goal of increasing the Chinese component of the region’s population. In 1950, one year after the Chinese communists wrestled control of the country from the Nationalists, they wanted to further expand their territory with Xinjiang in mind. Claiming Xinjiang in the name of helping the so-called “underdeveloped” region and its people, the Chinese government made Xinjiang5 into one of their provinces. Immediately following the formal annexation of Xinjiang, the government started the process of sending Chinese people from other parts of China into this region on a massive scale. Today, the Han-Chinese people make up more than 50% of the region’s total population. Hence, the largest indigenous population, Uighurs, became a minority group in the region. Soon after the Communists, under the leadership of Chairman Mao Zedong, took control over the country, they started to gradually resettle the Chinese people throughout the Northwest. Since the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) had virtually no established organization in Xinjiang prior to liberation, the government sent veteran People’s Liberation Army (PLA) officers in positions of administrative authority and control to establish and build a Party organization in the province. During the periods of 1958–1959 and 1963–1965, which respectively coincided with the Great Leap Forward, the rise of Sino-Soviet border tensions and unrest among the minority nationalities in Xinjiang, tens of thousands of young and middle-aged Chinese-settlers poured into Xinjiang.6 As they entered, they were able to claim some of the rich and abundant natural resources of the area, all in the name of helping the local people develop their land. The population change also brought about tremendous changes in the social, cultural, and everyday realities of the indigenous population. While all sectors of society were affected by those changes, I focus specifically upon the middle-class Uighur women of Xinjiang who were forced to the fringes of society and became more and more marginalized in their homeland as the Chinese gradually became the dominant group in the region. First, I will discuss the marginal situation of the Uighur women in Xinjiang before the in-migration of Chinese people to the region. Then, I will analyze the triple marginality of the
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Uighur Muslim women that was brought about as a result of the in-migration of the Chinese to the region.
UIGHUR WOMEN DURING THE PRE-MIGRATION PERIOD: SINGLE SOURCE OF MARGINALITY The Uighur women of Xinjiang in the pre-migration period had to deal mainly with one kind marginality, gender-based marginality.7 This single source of marginality was the result of the patriarchal nature of the Uighur culture. In explaining maledominated society which reduced women to marginal statuses, I will draw upon my mother’s personal experiences for examples. During this period, the family was the center of a woman’s everyday activities. Indeed, historically the position of women in Xinjiang is inextricably linked to patriarchal familial values. Inequality between men and women was reflected in their different roles. For example, women could not hold a religious position or even work outside the home. In addition, they did not have the legal right to own property. Women were expected to stay home and raise children. The more children a family had, the more respect it commanded. Since these activities represented a woman’s main social responsibilities, she was often blamed if her children did not grow up to become good and just people. Especially in the case of raising a daughter, it was primarily the mother’s task to make sure that the daughter was properly raised and protected so that she would remain a virgin until she was to be married. Because of this, education was not commonly sought for women. In fact, education among Uighur women was actually seen as a liability. Women who had their own thoughts were considered troublesome to men. Some sayings of my mother’s generation often proclaimed a woman’s ignorance as a virtue.8 During this time, the sexual division of labor was very clear. Uighur people believed that men and women were different and expected very different things from each other. The prevailing themes were reinforced. Women were expected to have children and take care of the home while men earned a living working outside the home in an office or tending the family farm. They were the sole financial providers. Polygamy was also practiced although not on a wide scale. In matters of divorce or separation, the paternalistic structure of the society was again quite evident as illustrated by one of my mother’s personal experiences. My maternal grandfather left my grandmother when my mother was very young. But because of the patriarchal descent rule, my mother’s paternal grandmother received custodial rights over her and raised her. In Islamic religion, women have very little control in family matters. Any child automatically belongs to the man in the case of a divorce or separation.
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Another important gender role required that girls be married off at a very young age.9 If they did not get married beyond a normal marrying age, they were often treated as abnormals. There were no courting rituals. Usually, when a man wanted to marry someone, he would approach the girl’s father and ask for her hand in marriage. If the father agreed, a huge dowry consisting of money and material goods such as clothing and gifts would be paid to the bride’s family by the groom’s family. In essence, the bride was bought and as such became the property of the husband. Because they were usually married to older men, there was a likely possibility that the woman were often dominated and treated like a child while still being expected to bear and raise children. This arrangement did not provide my mother’s generation with many opportunities outside the home. The gender inequalities resulted from the Uighur culture as well as Islamic law. During my mother’s youth, Islam was the prevalent religious force shaping her life. Coupled with her religion, a strong cultural influence reinforced the inequality between the sexes. As an Uighur woman, she had to observe strict Islamic and cultural rules when it came to preserving gender roles, and the rules were unequal. For example, during burial processions, a female who had already experienced her menstrual cycle, was excluded from the burial site. Hence, a perfectly normal biological function of a female’s anatomy was used as a criterion on which to evaluate religious and/or sexual purity. From a very early age, women learned that they were not “clean,” and thus, unwelcome at religious sites. While these religious and cultural influences resulted in gender marginality, offering no opportunities outside the home, they did provide my mother’s generation with a strong sense of ethnic/religious identity and belonging. The Uighur people formed a very tight knit, traditional community. My mother shared several childhood memories with me, illustrating the strong ethnic bonds she shared with others. For example, when she a young girl, on any given cultural occasion, tradition dictated that she and all her female friends would dress up in very beautiful and colorful “ethnic” clothes and have their hair tied up in long beautiful braids. For her, it was very hard not to forget how a little girl in Xinjiang was to behave. This common cultural and traditional practice, along with several others, characterized my mother’s childhood as being relatively free of the conflict associated with cultural, religious, and ethnic marginality resulting from social oppression. The women of my mother’s generation experienced only one major source of marginality, being women within a male dominated society. Racially and religiously, they were not marginalized. Although this single source of marginality did not impinge on their cultural and religious identity, my mother’s generation experienced a marginality which provided them with diminished social, economic,
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and political influence within the patriarchal culture in which they lived. For her generation of women, the same forces which kept their social identities intact prevented them from experiencing the myriad of human opportunities.
UIGHUR WOMEN DURING THE POST MIGRATION PERIOD The changes that were the result of the in-migration had a significant impact upon conditions in the region. After the migration period, Uighur women had to deal with a new set of societal issues. Some of these issues had a negative impact, such as Chinese dominance and changes in religious beliefs. Others were positive, such as the diminishing role of male dominance in society: There was a move away from male dominance as the only source of marginality for Uighur women to several competing sources of marginality, such as racial and religious marginality. When I was growing up, the Chinese had control over Xinjiang and changes in various sectors of society were being implemented. The changes created conflicts between peoples, between generations, and even within the same generation. With all these forces in play, the marginality experienced by the Uighur people became more complex because the society was increasingly complicated. The women of my generation felt the pushing and pulling forces of what I characterize as a triple source of marginality, one based on gender, race and ethnicity, and religion. Although it is apparent that these forms of marginality coexist and undoubtedly interrelate with one another, I will discuss each one separately to facilitate more lucid thoughts on the subject.
GENDER MARGINALITY Women are marginalized because of their position as women in a patriarchal society.10 However, the effects of male dominance were tempered by the inmigration. The population change altered the relationship between the sexes, which resulted in diminished gender marginalization (relative to my mother’s generation) of the Uighur Muslim women in Xinjiang. Uighurs are Muslims and believe in strict and separate gender roles. When the Chinese Communists introduced the campaign to bring equality between the sexes, women of the older generation began falling back on their racial, ethnic, and religious identities, ironically reinforcing their gender marginality. For these women, seeking affirmation through racial and religious identity carried the unintended consequences of maintaining a negative oppressive gender identity.
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This created intergenerational conflicts as well. For example, where my mother’s generation was brought up with strict Islamic rules, the behavior of men and women was generally dictated to them without question. Single men and single women could not physically be in the same place for prolonged periods of time without the presence of a third party. The women of my generation, on the other hand, were taught at school that there were no intellectual or moral differences between males and females. Women, in fact, were often encouraged to mingle with men. On a personal level, this provided some conflict between my mother and me. She was very cognizant of her role as a woman in Uighur society. What I had learned in school seemed to threaten her beliefs. She often misconstrued my behavior as well as the behavior of the women of my generation as generally immoral. For example, every time a male class-mate of mine came to our house, my mother steadfastly refused to leave the room and leave us alone. From the perspective of her generation, a girl and a boy should not be left alone. She told me when I was quite young that women of our society had to be careful about men, to make sure that a man would not take advantage of a woman. She went on to say that men in the patriarchal society only wanted one thing from a young woman or a girl, and once they got what they wanted they would leave her in shame. She warned me that nobody would find a female who had premarital sex socially desirable. I understood her concern due to the high degree of gender marginality she experienced. Based on the tone of her voice, it was apparent that her generation felt totally powerless in the face of male dominance. However, my generation did not share the same degree of urgency or concern or even belief in male dominance. I assured her that I would not let any man take advantage of me. During my generation, the male and female roles were not as clearly defined as they were in the generation before the in-migration of Chinese. Both males and females could go to school. During this time, Mao Zedong was approaching the peak of his power. His ideologies were prevalent in all facets of Uighur society. One of his sayings captured the essence of the times. He used to say, “Women hold up half the sky,” meaning that women can do anything that men can do. This idea instilled in the women of my generation an attitude that there were unprecedented possibilities and opportunities available to us. The world provided by my generation’s educational opportunities revealed to me that women could serve and perform multiple roles in society. We could hold jobs outside of the home, serve in public offices, or run businesses. Our lives did not revolve solely around the home or the family. We realized that our circle of influence had grown. Due to the migration, my generation, therefore, experienced a smaller degree of gender marginality. Gender marginality still existed, however, it became subordinated to other forms of marginality such as racial and religious marginality.
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RELIGIOUS MARGINALITY Uighur women were also marginalized because they were Muslims in a nonMuslim country such as China. Many Chinese were atheists, and they prevented the Uighur people from practicing Islam. The government closed down mosques and made it difficult for practicing Muslims to become party members. The people of my grandparents’ generation who had been fully steeped in religion, were relegated to praying behind closed doors. After my grandparents died, prayer and praying were no longer even a small part of our family’s activities. The change was so significant that the Uighur children of my generation commonly made fun of those who prayed because we were taught at school that “religion is the opiate of the people,” and hence not good for us. I grew up with parents who were not atheists, per se, but they did not practice Islam either. This was the case because they could not practice Islam given the fact that they had government jobs within the Chinese Communist Party. There was no discussion of their religious beliefs in our home; that was common in the homes of those of my generation. Although my parents, like many parents of their generation, did not practice Islam openly, Islam was still ingrained in the culture of everyday Uighur life. Religion, with all its accompanying traditions had been passed on from generation to generation with seemingly effortless continuity. However, the presence of Chinese rule and oppression caused a break in the chain that was to link my generation to my mother’s. Under the post-migration government, Islam served as a particular point of ridicule for the Chinese. I still remember an instance where my Chinese schoolmates made fun of a Muslim school-mate who observed Islamic rules and practices. It was during the Ramadan festival. All of the students from the school were taken to the countryside to help some of the farmers harvest their wheat. While on lunch break, Fatimah11 took out a book she had brought with her and started to read it. The Chinese students kept asking her to bring out her food and join us to eat. She said that she was not hungry, but they would not leave her alone. They did not understand that she was fasting during this Islamic holy month. She could not tell them the truth of her fasting because such religious observances were not allowed. Another situation where my school mates ridiculed someone because of religion involved another young girl named Salimah. According to Muslim custom, women have to cover their hair when in public, Salimah observed this custom by wearing a scarf on her head. The other students often made fun of this by taunting Salimah and pulling the scarf off her head. Finally, Salimah relented and only wore the scarf on her way to and from school but never during classes. Young girls of my
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mother’s generation never had to face the types of isolation and social coercion that are reported here.
RACIAL AND ETHNIC MARGINALITY Another source of the Uighur women’s marginality is being Uighur in a Chinese dominated society. The society of my generation was marred with racial conflict and marginality. This was due to the fact that our customs and life styles were different from the Chinese. Yet, more obvious than either of these were the physical differences that existed between the Chinese and the Uighur people. I became aware of these differences as a young child. I can remember my parents telling me, “We are not Chinese and we should always remember who we are.” We were brought up believing our cultural and religious identity made us who we were and we were constantly reminded not to forget that. I first became aware of our physical differences with the Chinese when my formal education began. I started school when I was 6 years old, and unlike my mother, I was sent to an all Chinese school. I was the only Uighur in my class. I did not know the Chinese language when I first went there. I first became cognizant of my Uighurness on an occasion that made it abundantly clear that I was different from all my class-mates. The Chinese people have very little body hair. Compared to them, I had quite a bit. One day my mother bought me a light green shirt that was made of a material I had never seen or touched. I liked it so much so that I decided to wear it to school to show it off to my school-mates. Before then I never made any judgements about my body. I merely accepted myself as I was. On this day, I arrived in class earlier than usual, hoping that the girls would notice my pretty shirt. I was noticed, but not in the manner that I desired, however. Someone pointed at my arm and said, “Look at her arms, she has so much hair.” Suddenly all the girls gathered around me, not to complement me for my pretty shirt, but to speculate about something that to them seemed so apparently abnormal: the hair on my arms. I was terribly embarrassed and angry yet I could do nothing. For the rest of that day I could only wonder painfully how my classmates could be so mean and lament why my parents had created me differently from all my classmates. I left school early and cried all day. When my mother got home she asked me what happened. I was so furious at everyone. I screamed and asked her why I was so different from my school-mates. My mother tried to explain to me that body hair was a natural phenomenon, and that I should not be ashamed of having it. She said, “The Chinese and we are different people; that is just one of the differences.” She said that physical differences are most noticeable to children and that children
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tend to say things or behave without thinking. She also told me that they could sometimes be mean without knowing it. She reassured me that as I grow older I would realize that people are the same in ways that mattered more than physical appearances. The Chinese often exploited our physical differences to claim that we were genetically as well as culturally inferior. It was very easy for the government to spread misinformation when it had “physical evidence” to back up it’s claims. I would describe the Uighurs as somewhat emotional, demonstrative people who possess a rich and vivid cultural heritage. When contrasted against the prevailing stoic persona of the Chinese, these characteristics of the Uighurs provided the Chinese with the ridiculous argument that Uighurs were “less evolved” and too “hot tempered” due to less developed intellectual capacities. Uighurs are always portrayed in the popular culture as a people who are care-free, naive and somewhat childish.12 The Uighurs too, emphasized our differences and promoted a segregated society. Intermarriage was strictly forbidden. The Chinese and Uighurs did not socialize outside of school or work. We had separate dorms and dining halls at all levels of schools. Uighurs and Chinese did not live in close proximity if it was economically feasible. In most buildings, one section was designated for the Chinese and another for the other ethnic groups. There are both Chinese and Uighur schools in Xinjiang. However, most of the Uighur schools are under-funded and under-staffed. For Uighurs to have educational opportunities equal to those of the Chinese, they must attend Chinese schools. As a result the majority of Uighur parents (mine included) felt a Chinese education was better than little or no education and started sending their children to Chinese schools. They felt that this was the only viable way for the children to succeed in society. My years of Chinese schooling proved both liberating and confusing. I was liberated in the sense that while in school I assumed an identity that transcended both race and culture. In high school and later at my university, I did not consider myself as a minority Uighur in a sea of a predominantly Chinese student body. Rather, I was just another student, thirsty in my quest for knowledge. I made friends with some very interesting and intelligent people in school, both Uighur and Chinese. We were all seriously devoted to our studies and supported each other vigorously in reaching our academic goals. However, whenever I ventured outside the sphere of my academic life, feelings of liberation and intellectual acuity were replaced by a nebulous haze of confusion. The rules of segregation alluded to earlier now took the place of the calm, rational thought processes I had employed in school. It was often very difficult to deal with such a tremendous role conflict. The degree of ethnic and racial marginality that I experienced was sometimes so great I felt paralyzed and trapped, not knowing where I belonged. There are numerous incidences in my life that made me feel like I was caged in, forced to abide by the notions which made no sense. My parents always taught me
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that human beings are equal, and that I should be nice to everyone. Yet, relations between the Chinese and the Uighurs in my family’s neighborhood were full of tension. Two particular examples stand out in my mind whenever I think about the racial unrest. One deals with Uighur racism, the other, with Chinese racism. The first incident happened following my first year in college. During the summer break, my Chinese friends heard that I was back for summer. They decided to organize an outing in my honor and gathered approximately a dozen people from my high school class. Many of these people brought their bicycles with them and drove us to the scenic Yilly River bank to have a picnic. I was the only Uighur in the group of twelve people, which incidently consisted of six men and six women. We brought our own food. Just as we were going to enjoy the food and each other’s company, I saw an Uighur man looking suspiciously at us. He was particularly staring at me, seemingly with anger and disgust. I tried to ignore him, however, he would not leave. Soon he was next to me with three other Uighur men. They made derogatory remarks to me in Uighur, which none of the Chinese understood. They called me such things as “whore,” “traitor” and “dirty woman.” The men would not leave, and I feared that they would further humiliate me, or even beat me physically. The men had assumed that since there were an equal number of men and women at our picnic, the outing must have been some kind of group dating (six couples). He shouted, “How dare you come here with these Chinese people!.” I was afraid that I might be beaten right there and nobody would help me. Luckily for me, one of the Chinese men in our group knew one of the Uighur men. Somehow he managed to persuade these men to calm down, convinced them that there was nothing going on, and that I would not do this again. The second example involves a couple of different incidences in school where racism existed among some of my Chinese teachers. This racism manifested itself in more subtle forms. I remember vividly how one of my teachers used to use me as an example to criticize the other Uighur students because he did not consider them to be bright enough. “Why can’t you be more like Sadat? She is one of you,” he would say when he was scolding other Uighur students. Later on, during my high school and college years my professors openly told me that I should not marry an Uighur man because it would be such a waste and would lead to a lower social standing. “You are too smart for them, nobody would understand you. You should marry a Chinese man.” was what my professors so casually said to me. These examples of racism contributed to the third component to an already volatile mix that the triple sources of marginality gave my generation. These experiences that were both good and bad. On the one hand, my generation was in conflict on several fronts. Children and parents had varying views on gender behavior; Muslims and non-Muslims understood little of each other; And Uighurs and Chinese had a mutual animosity toward each other. On the other hand, this triple
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source of marginality provided our generation of women with certain freedoms and choices my mother’s generation never knew existed. Despite the positive consequences of marginalization, it is the negative ones which have provided a more significant impact on our lives. Since the Chinese in-migration to Xinjiang and the reduction of Uighurs to the minority status in that province, Uighur women have had to deal with this kind of marginality creating a more complicated way of life than that experienced by the pre-migration generation.
CONCLUSION I have shown through the experiences of Uighur Muslim women in Xinjiang that marginality is a phenomenon that need not be confined to an immigrant population. This paper further develops the concept of marginality to exist in a context that is merely not the experience of the immigrant, or even a small minority ethnic or religious group. Rather in this case, marginality befell an indigenous population as the result of the in-migration of a large and powerful group. In the process of this discussion, one can see that the marginality focused upon is more complex than that of simple oppression. It is largely oppressive, but ironically it can simultaneously be partially liberating. It does this by creating new ways of thought and new avenues of agency. That is, the triple marginality of Uighur women in post-Migration Xinjiang creates a dialectic of negative and positive consequences that allow for the possibilities of new avenues for human agency. The experiences of the Uighur Muslim women in Xinjiang also illustrate the ways in which race and religious identities compete and overshadow gender identity as we have seen in the case of the post-migration generation. While gender identity was the sole source of marginalized identity for the pre-migration generation of women, it became somewhat submerged during the post-migration period. While gender identity was still important to these women, it was overshadowed by the greater degree of importance placed on marginalized race and religious identities. This changing degree of gender identity importance exemplifies the flexibility of the gender identity as an important category. In closing, although tremendous strides have been made to understand the concept of marginality, the topic needs further development. This paper represents one modest attempt to do so.
NOTES 1. Henceforth I will use the term “Han-Chinese” synonymously with “Chinese” for simplicity’s sake.
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2. See for example, Smith (1980); Harman (1987); among others. 3. See for example, Willie (1975); Mayer (1961, 1980); Smith (1980); Bunster and Chancy (1985); among others. 4. The Hui differ from the other Muslim groups in China who speak Turko-Altaic or Indo-European Languages. Unlike the other Muslim groups, the Hui speak Chinese and look Chinese. They are the real Chinese Muslims in a sense. 5. Although the Chinese had first conquered this region during the Han Dynasty and named it Xinjiang(new Frontier), the indigenous people of that land never used the name Xinjiang until much later after the Chinese Communist’s dominance in the region. Throughout history, scholars have refereed to it as Eastern Turkestan, Chinese Turkestan, Chinese Central Asia, or Uighuristan. Even today, many Uighurs abroad still call the land Eastern Turkestan. 6. According to McMillen, the Han settlers came primarily from Jiangsu, Hubei, Hunan, and Anhui provinces, but thereafter largely hailed from Shanghai and its environs. For a more detailed discussion of the resettlement movement, see Lynn T. White, “The Road to Urumchi: Rustication from Shanghai Through the Cultural Revolution,” unpublished paper presented at the 27th Annual Meeting of the Association for Asian Studies, San Francisco, March 25, 1975. 7. Since the Uighurs lived in a society that was racially and religiously homogeneous, racial and ethnic marginality was not an issue. People of my mother’s generation went to schools whose entire enrollment consisted of Muslims. 8. For example, “A woman without any talent is a virtuous woman.” and “A woman’s head is there just to carry her hair.” are two such sayings. 9. There is no exact age girls at which were married off, but most of the women of my mother’s generation were married by the time they were 15 or 16 years of age. 10. See Hacker’s (1951) early discussion of women as a marginalized group like other minority groups. Also Pellow (1983) and Billson (1988) argued that women as a group might justifiably be considered marginal by virtue of being oppressed. 11. This name is a pseudonym. All names that appear in the article are pseudonyms as well unless they are the names of historical figures. 12. See for example, Thierry’s (1989) discussion of how the colorful portrayal of minorities in China as often derogatory, colorful, and colonial.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT I want to thank Professor Richard Williams for his helpful comments and suggestions.
REFERENCES Billson, J. M. (1988). No owner of soil: The concept of marginality revisited on its sixtieth birthday. International Review of Modern Sociology, 18, 183–204. Bunster, S., & Chancy, E. M. (1985). Sellers and servants: Working women in Lima, Peru. New York: Praeger.
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Gladney, D. (1990). Muslim Chinese: Ethnic nationalism in the People’s Republic of China. Cambridge, MA: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University Press. Hacker, H. M. (1951). Women as a minority group. Social Forces, 30(1), 60–69. Lee, R. L. M. (1990). The paradox of belonging: Sino-Indian marginality in Malaysia. Ethnic Groups, 8, 113–126. Mayer, P. (1961). Townsmen or tribesmen: Conservatism and the process of urbanization in a South African City (Xhosa in Town). (With Iona Mayer). Cape Town: Oxford University Press. McMillen, D. H. (1979). Chinese communist power and policy in Xinjiang, 1949–1977. Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press. Park, R. (1928). Human migration and the marginal man. The American Journal of Sociology, 33, 881–893. Simmel, G. (1965). The stranger. In: K. H. Wolff (Ed.), Essays on Sociology, Philosophy, and Aesthetics. New York: Harper & Row. Smith, M. E. (1980, Spring). The Portuguese female immigrant: The marginal man. International Migration Review, 14(1), 77–92. Thierry, F. (1989). Empire and minority in China. In: G. Chaliand (Ed.), Minority Peoples in the Age of Nation-States. London: Pluto Press. Weisberger, A. (1992). Marginality and its directions. Sociological Forum, 7(3), 425–445. Willie, C. V. (1975). Oreo: A perspective on race and marginal men and women. Wakefield, MA: Parameter Press.
TRANSCENDING “THE MARGINAL MAN”: CHALLENGING THE PATRIARCHAL LEGACY OF ROBERT E. PARK Mary Jo Deegan INTRODUCTION Robert E. Park is a pivotal figure in Chicago sociology, a school of thought that dominated the discipline between 1892 and 1940 (Faris, 1967; Kurtz, 1984). Park’s legacy is both insightful and problematic for a number of reasons, and I analyze one severe flaw in his epistemology here: his patriarchal worldview and practice. I do this by examining two patriarchal processes: (1) his sociological discourse for claiming and disclaiming the intellectual resources influencing the concept of “marginal man”; and (2) his use of men’s standpoint as “the standard” for marginal experience (Smith, 1977). The historical production of this concept is important in analyzing the patriarchal context of sociological discourse (Smith, 1974a, b), and the competition over authorship that characterizes patriarchal sociology. Dorothy E. Smith explains that: The discourse is maintained by practices that determine who may participate in it as fully competent members and by an organization and re-organization of relations among participants through the medium of their work. To be recognized as a proper participant, one must produce work that conforms to appropriate deferences and is locatable by these other devices in the
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traditions, factions, schools, etc. whose themes it elaborates, whose interpretive procedures it intends, and by whose criteria it is to be evaluated (Smith, 1977, p. 17).
By disassociating the origin of ideas from their practice in powerful relations, moreover, the author as a gendered agent is hidden. Since gender is the most fundamental division within society (Goffman, 1977), the gendered discourse of sociology perpetuates and creates these divisions in articulated, sex specific ways (Smith, 1974a, b, 1975). My intention is both to reveal the patriarchal bias in Park’s ideas and to recover the lost potential of the concept of marginality. Park is criticized, therefore, from a feminist perspective and reincorporated within a feminist sociology. This feminist project involves the recreation of sociology so that women are not “marginal” to our understanding of society, but integral to it. This process incorporates female experiences and authority to epistemologically reconstruct a discipline that cites primarily men (Deegan, 1991). The patriarchal legacy of the Chicago school is thereby transcended and its previous limits are opened to new horizons (Deegan, 1995). Robert E. Park (1950, 1955), like his Chicago colleagues George H. Mead (1934) and Jessie Taft (1915; Deegan, 1986), theoretically supported this reconstruction since he showed us that language shapes our selves, institutions, and society. Gendered language, moreover, fundamentally organizes our social meanings, gestures, and responses within the self and toward the other. Thus this is a feminist re-organizing of sociological knowledge on marginality. I do this by critically examining Park’s concept of “the marginal man” and its production in a specific time and place. I then introduce the new concept of the “marginal woman” and use both concepts to define a third, “the marginal person.” Finally, I briefly consider the relation between marginality and minority groups.
“THE MARGINAL MAN”: ITS PATRIARCHAL LOCATION AND MEANING IN 1928 Park’s concept of the “marginal man” “officially” appeared in 1928, in his article: “Human Migration and the Marginal Man.” Park defined the “marginal man” as a person between cultures; e.g. a migrant, immigrant, or wanderer. This person is characteristically spiritually unstable, intensely self-conscious, restless, and suffers from malaise (1928, p. 893), with a temporal dimension between the old and new self (1928, p. 892). One possible outcome of the struggle between this divided self is disillusionment, but another possible outcome is greater breadth in thought and action.
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Park claimed here that his idea emerged from Simmel’s writings on “the stranger” and “cosmopolitans” (see Simmel, 1971a, b, pp. 143–149, 324–339). Park notes that the stranger is less prejudiced, more objective, and more comprehensive in judgment than the person isolated in one community. This positive benefit is achieved at a high price, however. Immigrants, for example, experience painful moral conflicts “when old habits are being discarded and new ones are not yet formed. It is inevitably a period of inner turmoil and intense self-consciousness” (1928, p. 893). The use of Park’s (1928) article for defining the concept “marginal man” is problematic, however. The major topics illustrating the concept actually emerged over a decade earlier in a different political and intellectual location from that claimed by Park in 1928.
W. I. THOMAS AS THE MARGINAL MAN: PARK’S PATRIARCHAL PRACTICE FROM 1918–1928 Although Park credited Simmel as a central influence on the concept of the marginal man, Park does not cite the even greater continuity between this idea and the work of his Chicago colleagues, notably W. I. Thomas. There were several patriarchal benefits for Park to note that he owed a more profound intellectual debt to Thomas than to Simmel. These advantages are rooted in the patriarchal academy and the politics of that discourse (Smith, 1977). First, Park was influenced by Simmel and this is not contested here. In fact, Park studied with Simmel in the winter of 1899–1900 (Jaworski, 1995). It is striking, however, that Simmel was legitimated as a sociologist in the United States by Park’s former chair, Albion Small. [Small was the first chair of the Department of Sociology at the University of Chicago and the first editor of The American Journal of Sociology (AJS).] Small actively promoted Simmel’s ideas in AJS, for example, and translated seven of Simmel’s articles there (Jaworski, 1995, p. 394). Park’s claim of Simmel as a mentor, therefore, was politically sound in 1928. Second, in addition to Simmel, Park had another mentor, W. I. Thomas, who brought Park to the University of Chicago in 1913. Thomas persuaded unsympathetic university administrators, who did not perceive Park as central to the faculty between 1913 and 1918, to hire Park, albeit in a part-time position. Park remained a “professorial lecturer” from 1913 until 1923 when he was promoted to full professor (Rauschenbush, 1979, pp. 179, 201). Thomas was politically, administratively, and intellectually Park’s mentor from 1912 until 1918, years when Thomas and Park shared ideas and became friends (Rauschenbush, 1979, pp. 75, 76).
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Third, Park’s article on the marginal man continued an intellectual tradition that was fundamentally articulated by Thomas and Florian Znaniecki in The Polish Peasant in Europe and America (published in five volumes between 1918 and 1920). Although this book was widely acknowledged as the most important sociological text in sociology for the next two decades (Blumer, 1937; Deegan, 1988), Park does not cite it as an influence on his understanding of marginality and immigrants in his 1928 article.1 Fourth, and most strikingly, Park’s work in 1928 directly parallels that found in Old World Traits Transplanted (1921), a text written primarily by Thomas and probably with the help of Park and Herbert A. Miller. The authorship was falsely attributed to only Park and Miller between 1921 and 1951. In the latter year, a letter from Allen T. Burns, the director of the series in which the book was published, to Ernest W. Burgess documented that Thomas “primarily” wrote the text. This letter was published in an anthology of Thomas’ writings that was edited by Edmund H. Volkhardt (1951, p. 259). (A 1971 reprint of the book by Patterson Smith finally listed Thomas as first author and also reprinted the letter.) This complicated fiasco of false authorship is discussed in greater detail in Volkhardt (1951, pp. 259–260), Janowitz (1977), Rauschenbush (1979, pp. 92, 93), and Deegan (1988, pp. 184, 185), so I only summarize the major issues here. Thomas was arrested in 1918 by federal agents on a charge of violating the Mann Act, a law that prohibited crossing a state line to commit a crime. Thomas was charged with the crime of crossing the state line between Illinois and Indiana to commit adultery. After he was arrested under highly suspicious circumstances (see Deegan, 1988, pp. 178–186), the charges were dropped and the case was never prosecuted. Although the law states that Thomas was innocent until proven guilty, the academy did not recognize these civil rights. Thomas was fired from the University of Chicago and ostracized completely from the male academy until 1923. At this time his successful publication of The Unadjusted Girl restored him to the unenviable position of being a “tainted” but legitimate sociologist. After being dismissed from the University, Thomas was financially and intellectually sponsored by Ethel (Mrs. William F.) Dummer (Platt, 1992) who, unlike Park, rejected Thomas’ stigmatized status. Thus Old World Traits Transplanted, like The Unadjusted Girl, was underwritten substantially by a woman outside the male academy who continued to have faith in Thomas as a sociologist. Dummer was an active figure in both of these enterprises. Thus she read early drafts of the Thomas book that he called Immigrant Heritages and sent to her in 1920. Thomas clumsily explained to her a few months later why it was renamed Old World Traits Transplanted: This title was not chosen by me, but conforms to the general plan to get that sort of titles (sic). You will understand the fact that my name is not on the book. I really did the work in the place
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of Miller, who undertook it originally. Of course my name would have gone on except for my record. But it was a friendly arrangement, made on the basis of money (W. I. Thomas to Ethel Dummer, 4 February 1921, Dummer Papers, folder 785).
As a marginal man, Thomas lost ownership of his ideas. They became commodities sold to bring prestige and power in the academy, but only for acceptable authors. In this letter, and elsewhere, Thomas never named Park as a co-author of the text.2 Winifred Rauschenbush, Park’s biographer and assistant for many years, recalled this situation as more volatile than Thomas presented it in the letter cited above. Rauschenbush wrote: “When Thomas realized what was happening, he was enraged. A scholar of outstanding reputation, he had already suffered one body blow when he was asked to resign (sic) from his Chicago professorship, he was not prepared to take a second blow tamely” (Rauschenbush, 1979, p. 92). Thomas, according to Rauschenbush, wanted to know why Park participated in this “gentleman’s agreement.” Whatever the personal strains between Thomas and Park, Thomas’ professional acceptance remained somewhat “marginal” until 1928, when he served as president of the American Sociological Society. By 1928, however, Thomas was reincorporated into the white, male world of sociologists, the same year that Park published his first article on the marginal man. Thus many of the ideas expressed by Park in his 1928 article were analyzed after Old World Traits Transplanted was published and Thomas had been personally restored to honor, but even then Park did not acknowledge this tainted connection. We must assume that Park at least read the book that he “opportunistically appropriated.”3 The intellectual linkages between this book and the 1928 article are easy to see, for Thomas specifically addressed the problems of marginal people in Old World Traits Transplanted. Here he discussed in depth the immigrants’ struggle between the old and new worlds’ values and everyday life (compare to similar points in Park, 1928, p. 892). Changing values and their new definitions (Park, 1928, p. 893; [Thomas], Park & Miller, 1921, pp. 3, 47) are particularly problematic because values guide behavior and give it meaning. This theme continued earlier ones elaborated by Thomas, particularly in his co-authored book on the Polish peasant. Although Park stressed the “cosmopolitan” marginal man, Old World Traits Transplanted discussed the range of “immigrant types” (pp. 81–118) and the often high cost of “demoralization” because of conflicting definitions of the situation (pp. 69–80). In fact, some Jewish immigrants, the group that Park thought often epitomized the marginal man (Park, 1928, p. 891), perjoritively called a Jew who adapted too quickly and easily “within the cosmopolitan group of the ‘Americanized’ Americans” the “allrightnick” ([Thomas], Park & Miller, 1921, p. 101). The opposite type of “cosmopolitan immigrant” never changed
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any traditional behavior, and the Italians called this type of Italian immigrant a “caffone” ([Thomas], Park & Miller, 1921, p. 103). In a particularly poignant “life history,” [Thomas,] Park and Miller document that “the ‘educated’ immigrant is usually more misadapted (sic) than the workman” (1921, p. 104). They use a “Polish intellectual,” as their example (pp. 107–118), a group represented by Znaniecki, co-author of The Polish Peasant in Europe and America and Thomas’ friend. These criticism of “the cosmopolitan” and the process of assimilating too quickly to American society are absent from Park’s discussion of “the marginal man.” Thomas and his “helpers” clearly defined major issues and conflicts for immigrants in 1921, although the 1921 text included more experiences of both sexes than Park’s (1928) article (see the discussion of Thomas’ work on women in Deegan, 1988, pp. 202–208). One of Park’s authorial acts, therefore, was to delete the presence of women in his mentor’s writings; to omit the Jewish immigrants’ criticism of Jews who were “too cosmopolitan”; and to ignore the intellectual’s difficulty of finding sophisticated ideas and colleagues. Park’s claim of intellectual continuity with Simmel in 1928 and not with Thomas is now revealed as a highly political act. On the one hand, Simmel was sponsored by Small, Park’s former boss and the person who personally fired Thomas. On the other hand, Park tried to distance himself from the messy situations surrounding Old World Traits Transplanted, including Thomas’ censure by his male colleagues, Park’s professional benefits from Thomas’ disenfranchisement, and the more intellectually challenging observations in that text. Park thereby disassociated himself – albeit for a period of decades that is now ending – from a more complex situation with “dirty linen” (Thomas discussed this problem of “tainted backgrounds” for sexually mature women in 1923). The concept of “marginal man” takes on new meaning when it is viewed from this specific context of patriarchal practice and discourse. Understanding this context is much more that revealing a scandal. One positive benefit of examining Thomas’ influence on Park is that Park’s work becomes more intellectually connected to the “first” Chicago faculty, and specifically to “symbolic interaction” (an argument also advanced by Barbara Lal, 1990, 1994). This makes Park’s work less “unsystematic,” a charge leveled even by Park’s student Edward Shils (1991), but Park also appears to be a less striking figure than that of the single, isolated “great man,” a claim also advanced by Shils (1994). Another vital benefit is that Thomas regains his rightful claim as author. The incorporation of women in his work, his professional associations with female colleagues, his ostracism from the company of “good” men, and his now legitimated ideas supply a missing piece of academic history that is important for his reputation and the work of his colleagues. Re-connecting the work of Thomas and Park leads to clearer institutional relationships, too. For example, Park’s collaborator Ernest Burgess (e.g. Park
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& Burgess, 1921) was trained by Thomas and by Thomas’ former teacher and colleague, George H. Mead. Thus Park and Burgess were closely tied to the “first” Chicago school. In addition, this reclaiming of Thomas’ ideas raises new questions: e.g. Was Burgess involved in the conspiracy of changed authorship? More positive connections can also be made. For example, Helen MacGill Hughes calls Old World Traits Transplanted “the companion volume” (Hughes, 1968, p. 418) to Park’s The Immigrant Press and Its Control, published in 1922. Her interpretation specifically advances the idea that Thomas’ influence on Park extends to other parts of Park’s writings as well (the only monograph Park authored alone). U. G. Weatherly arrived at a similar interpretation in his review of The Immigrant Press and Its Control in AJS. He found this second book seamlessly dealt “with one particular phase of immigrant activities, supplementing the general analysis of immigrant heritages undertaken in a previous volume in this series, Old World Traits Transplanted, by Professors Park and Miller” (1922, p. 807). Thus any contemporary analysis of Park’s epistemology must account more thoroughly for Thomas’ influence and authorship in Old World Traits Transplanted which, in turn, makes other scholarship on Thomas and Park more logical. Accounting for Park’s patriarchal practice is integral to Parkian scholarship: It is not “an aberration” but foundational to his work and ideas. Thomas, furthermore, was not only central to the genesis of the concept of “marginal man,” he became a “marginal man” in reference to his own work and ideas. Thus he was a highly educated, powerful, white man born in the USA, yet his life shows that marginality is not limited to Park’s exemplars of immigrants and men of color. Thomas was a “marginal man” because he was ostracized by his professional colleagues, including Park, and this raises questions of occupation, capital, and the control of knowledge by sociologists in the production and obfuscation of marginality.4 Park’s unjust treatment of Thomas created a legacy that continued for decades. Despite the indisputable evidence of Park’s debt to Thomas, Park continues to be acknowledged as the major figure generating the concept of “the marginal man” (e.g. Turner, 1967, xxxix–xl). Park’s patriarchal practices until 1928 became even more problematic, however, over the next decade, from 1928 to 1937, when Park advanced new claims concerning his authorship of this concept.
THE MARGINAL MAN AND PARK’S PATRIARCHAL EPISTEMOLOGY FROM 1928 TO 1937 In 1931, Park extended the concept of “marginal man” from his exemplar of immigrants to persons with multiple racial heritages. In this way, Park began connecting a problematic patriarchal concept to stereotypical beliefs about
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mulattoes. (N.B.: The word “mulatto” is rarely used in contemporary discourse, but for the purpose of this discussion I use Park’s words since they were acceptable for his era. The word “Negro” is similarly dated.) An example of Park’s racism is found in Ralph H. Turner’s assessment that Park found that the mulatto “compared with the other Negroes . . . is more enterprising, restless, aggressive, and ambitious (Turner, 1967, xl).” Park’s mulatto stereotypes are insupportable. Park, moreover, confused the concepts of “ethnicity” and “race.” As John Stanfield notes: “Park and his students Edward Reuter, Everett V. Stonequist, and E. Franklin Frazier ignored this conceptual contraction and proceeded to make the mulatto, as a marginal person, a central theme in Chicago race-relations sociology” (Stanfield, 1985, p. 49). This blurring of ethnicity and race was extended in 1937 when Park’s student Everett V. Stonequist wrote an entire book on The Marginal Man. Park’s introduction to this text endorsed the concept and linked it to Park’s earlier writings in 1928 and 1931. Another student of Park, E. Franklin Frazier, continued to employ the concept of “marginal men” in this way, especially in The Black Bourgeoisie (1955; For an examination of Frazier’s marginality, see Deegan, 1992). Park’s problematic practice of not acknowledging Thomas’ influence on the concept of “marginal man” in 1931, therefore, continued long after Thomas was reinstated as a legitimate sociologist by most powerful white men. In 1931, however, Park was building his concept of the marginal male mulatto on yet another tradition established by Thomas. For example, Edward Reuter’s book on The Mulatto in the United States was published in 1918 and sponsored by both Park and Thomas (Reuter, 1918, p. 7). Reuter discussed the same advantages and disadvantages surrounding the black “man” of mixed heritages in the United States as Park did thirteen years later, although Reuter did not call these factors “marginal.” Reuter, unlike Park, explicitly linked his work to that of Thomas and employed W. E. B. Du Bois’ concept of “the talented tenth” (Reuter, 1918, pp. 183–215, “The Leading Men of the Negro Race”).5 Reuter and Thomas established an early “Chicago” precedent in studying the mulatto, but this academic heritage is rarely identified by Park or his followers after 1930. Park’s study of persons of mixed racial heritages in 1931 also linked the concept of marginal man to personality and cultural conflict (Park, 1931, pp. 98, 103, 107). These struggles were central themes in The Polish Peasant (1918–1920), The Unadjusted Girl (1923), and Old World Traits Transplanted (1921), but again Thomas’ intellectual legacy is not acknowledged. Park explicitly claims that he is the sole author of the “marginal man” concept (Park, 1931, p. 109). In a related but different problematic practice, Park claimed expertise in race relations and “marginality” because of his work with Booker T. Washington. Before coming to Chicago in 1913, Park had served as the secretary of Booker T.
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Washington, the noted black founder of Tuskegee Institute. An influential group of white, male, Chicago sociologists interpreted Park’s relationship to Washington as the work of “an intelligent prolific, white journalist who helped to build and sustain the career of a black leader who lacked a writer’s skill” (Stanfield, 1985, p. 38; this view is often supported by Rauschenbush and H. M. Hughes, as well). Stanfield documents, however, that it was Washington who sustained Park instead of Park being Washington’s “ghostwriter” (1985, n.b. pp. 38–43). This biographical context of Park and Washington is particularly important in this epistemological analysis, for Park has often been portrayed as a “marginal man” with the great insight to understand and unite the black and white experience (e.g. Hughes, 1964; Rauschenbush, 1979), and this interpretation is challenged here. In this intellectual relationship, the concept of “the marginal man” is embedded in a patriarchal and racist structure of knowledge that affects the validity of the idea. Given the long held belief that Park influenced Washington, the idea that Washington influenced Park has not been widely examined. Thus the question of Park’s indebtedness to Washington for the concept of “marginal man” is unexamined. Although I can not excavate all the complex ties between these men’s epistemology in this short chapter, it is evident that Washington’s ideas on race relations influenced Park and this influence is not acknowledged in Park’s intellectual work on the marginal man. Some easily discernible Washington influences on Park include: (1) an emphasis on assimilation of African-Americans into white society; (2) an antagonism to the work and ideas of the sociologist and community leader W. E. B. Du Bois; (3) a stress on the need for vocational education and employment for African-Americans, reflected in Park’s work for both the Tuskegee Institute and the National Urban League; and (4) Park’s work on Washington’s writings where some interaction between their ideas must have occurred. In fact, Park acknowledged Washington’s profound influence on him in 1941. At that time, Park claimed Washington was the person “from whom I learned more than from any of my other teachers” (p. 311), a list that included John Dewey, William James, and Georg Simmel. Park depicted Washington as “essentially pragmatic” and “rather allergic to theories of any sort” (p. 312). Washington taught Park that social problems like racism “are problems of fundamental human nature and culture” and not amenable to legal remedies. Although Park cited a number of Washington’s ideas, such as “learning by doing” (p. 317) and African Americans as “a nation within a nation” (p. 313), Park does not integrate Washington’s ideas formally into the concept of “marginal man.” The direction and nature of Park and Washington’s interaction and influence is, therefore, an important intellectual question for the study of marginality and the history of ideas.
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Thus Park “marginalized” the work of at least two American men, Thomas and Washington, while he incorporated the work of “a foreigner” and “a Jew” who was “cosmopolitan” (i.e. a marginal man), Simmel, into American thought. Analyzing Park’s patriarchl discourse shows that “marginality” is a significantly more complex process than Park portrayed it and the process of marginality was rooted in the unreflexive process of producing a flawed concept. Since these early years of sociological discourse, between 1921 and 1937, the concept of “the marginal man” has flourished within sociology. It is praised frequently but only rarely interpreted as problematic for women, people of multiple racial heritages, people with stigmas, or people of color. The concept, and its production, are embedded in patriarchal, elitist, and racist practices, nonetheless. Understanding this historical, biographical, and epistemological context is important for the contemporary use of Park’s writings. Park’s concepts must be linked to a more inclusive worldview and conceptual apparatus or be relegated to the dustbins of outmoded ideas. My next project is to employ a feminist perspective to correct Park’s biases and allow us to discuss marginality as a human process within a gendered world. I begin by analyzing “the marginal woman.”
“THE MARGINAL WOMAN”: STRANGER IN HER OWN LAND The term “the marginal man” has been inaccurately applied to both genders, but the concept is intrinsically male. Although considerable effort has been expended to defend male terms as generic, the evidence to the contrary is overwhelming. The concept of marginal woman is gendered and not generic. It claims difference from the marginal man and from other types of social classifications, such as race and class. Women are systematically limited in their opportunities in the marketplace (Kanter, 1977), in the home (Gilman, 1898), reproduction (Mitchell, 1972; Reinharz, 1987), and the formation of the self (Taft, 1915). Women live in a society controlled and defined by men (e.g. Deegan & Hill, 1987; Mitchell, 1972). Thus women are always strangers in modern society, “the other” on the edge of being totally human (de Beauvoir, 1949). A defining characteristic of the marginal woman is that she is existential. She is a stranger in her own society. She is on the other side of a biological divide built into an institutionally reflexive reality, a world where minor biological differences between the sexes are augmented, exaggerated, and elaborated (Goffman, 1977). Women’s unresolvable experiential difference is distinct from the experience of marginal men. Men, even the marginal men defined by Park, belong somewhere, but women are denied this “home.” Women
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fundamentally do not belong in modern society. They lack the defining male self, body, and way of being-in-the-world. Simmel’s concept of “the stranger” (1971a), employed by Park in his work on “the marginal man,” assumes the relatively simple situation of a person who is at home in one setting or culture and then moves into a new setting or culture. Park shares this simplistic worldview in his writings. The marginal woman has a potential “home” in the society of women, but she is taught to believe that men and the wider society they control are superior to women and women-only communities. The marginal woman in modern society is characteristically at odds with “her world.” A female life-world does exist in modern society (Bernard, 1981; Deegan, in press; Smith-Rosenberg, 1975), but it is a separate, independent world for a very small number of women. For the overwhelming majority of women, the female world is grounded in the “private” home and family. This domesticity has myriad connections to men, the “public sphere,” and traditional gender roles (Zaretsky, 1976). The lack of a viable womenonly world in Western society has led many non-Western women to claim with some validity that they have greater freedom and power to shape their society than Western women (e.g. Mernissi, 1975). A modern, Western woman cannot return to a separate world like a Greek immigrant can return to Greece. Western women lack a world with its own language, national structure, and identity. Thus Park’s analysis of men’s marginality does not apply to women. Furthermore, unlike the person of multiple racial backgrounds that Park studied, a woman from the dominant native group has one heritage, and it defines her as an outsider. Although she is the product of both sexes, she is defined as the flawed embodiment of one. The pervasive practice of patrinomial naming exemplifies, for example, the erasure of women’s names and families in the social construction of family history and property (Deegan, 1989a). This patriarchal definition of gender permeates social life and thought. Although the man of color with a multiple racial heritage is both born in a place and a stranger in it, this racial division is different from the experience of women who are part of the dominant racial group. Women of color in Western societies have yet another experience of marginality that differs from white women in America. These women of color may feel “at home” in the community of color or they may feel estranged from it. Similarly, women of color may feel “at home” with women from other communities or they may feel estranged from some and not others, or estranged from all women outside their own racial/ethnic group. Women of color are also estranged (but again to varying degrees) from the dominant white male world as both a woman and a person of color. This more complicated existential situation partially explains the different gender relations between men and women of color compared to white men and women.
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Women who are immigrants also have a complicated existential situation. They may be strangers in their “home country,” but upon their entry into a “new country” their power within the immigrant community may be greater or lesser than their previous power. Their status as marginal persons may vary between their original land, their immigrant community, and their new land. Thus women of color and women immigrants are more “marginal” than native women in their native land; but women of color and women immigrants may or may not be “marginal” in their distinct communities. The experience of “shared marginality” within a community can alter the nature of the community itself and the gendered experience within it. Yeza Boulahbel Villac beautifully illustrates this complex experience for Algerian women who immigrate to France (1991). These wives and mothers want to stay in France so their daughters can benefit from the education and life style of women there. The husbands often want to return to Algeria; so the wives employ traditional family strategies to persuade the husbands to remain in France. A series of family negotiations are needed to accomplish this goal. This, in turn, has created an immigrant community with a structure more similar to France’s nuclear family than Algeria’s extended family. The daughters in these immigrant families blend non-Western and Western models of gender within their lives in France. Despite this range of experiences, the marginal woman characteristically has no haven in a heartless world. Thus the marginal man may establish a family and home wherein he can retreat from the clash of cultures or race in everyday life (Lasch, 1977). This emotional anchor to an integrated, “private” place one controls does not exist for the marginal woman: The home and family are part of the process of exploiting her gendered labor. Her definition is intrinsically female, and her traditional place in a limited world of power is opposed to the public worlds of the marketplace (Abbott, 1910), politics, the military, and finance (Taft, 1915). Although women of color and women immigrants may establish homes counter to the norms of the dominant society – thereby strengthening their communities – the problems of poverty, single-parent households, and marginality within the larger society make homes and home-making problematic enterprises. This difficult “haven” for women leads to the next characteristic of their marginality. The marginal woman lives in a female life-world (Die Frauen Lebenswelt) that is intrinsically an enclave of the male world, fractured by patriarchal dichotomies, and feudal in its origin of self and other. This “other” world is a viable seed for a new vision for modern life (Bernard, 1981; Taft, 1915). By seeing the modern world as supported by a nonmodern infrastructure, the major concepts of patriarchal sociology are undermined. Making women’s marginality a central sociological question changes the nature of the sociological enterprise. For example, Emile Durkheim’s “organic and inorganic” solidarity
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becomes a sociological artifact (c. 1933), and the divisions between “premodern” and “modern” society are considerably more problematic. Similarly, Toennies distinction between “Gemeinschaft” and “Gesellschaft” disappears because women exist in a Gemeinschaft society. Men live in the Gemeinschaft worlds of the family and “private” life while they labor in a Gesellschaft public realm (Bernard, 1981; Taft, 1915). Furthermore, as Rosabeth Moss Kanter has shown, Weber’s critiques of rationality are overturned (Kanter, 1987, p. 198): patriarchy, not rationality, governs the modern bureaucracy. Jessie Taft, an early student of the Chicago sociologists George H. Mead and W. I. Thomas, documented the split between the home and the larger society in her doctoral dissertation in 1913 (see Taft, 1915)6 . The world of women as embedded in face-to-face relationships, emotionally embodied, and rooted in the home has been seriously distorted by patriarchal sociology (Smith, 1977; Taft, 1915), as we see with Park’s work examined here.7 Uncovering the world of women and discovering their strengths and weaknesses are keys to understanding women and the social construction of everyday life. Although the experience of women throughout the world varies widely, the marginal woman as “other” is cross-cultural. She exists in both modern and nonmodern societies. She is invisible to men in all cultures. In addition, Nicole-Claude Mathieu (1988) analyzes the particular problem of Western, male anthropologists who bracket non-Western women outside their critiques. These scholars hide behind the mistakes of their predecessors to confuse their contemporaries (Schutz, 1967). Their partial analyses are self-laudatory, as well: they hide behind the guise of avoiding ethnocentrism through the manipulation of liberal rhetoric. In fact, non-Western women’s experience can be less marginal than Western women’s experience when non-Western men become strangers in another community. “The marginal woman” has a distinct, gendered experience. Her relation to the home and wider society differs from man’s. These gendered patterns, moreover, are distinct for native white American women, women of color, and women who emigrate. My analysis shows how marginality is gendered, and this process is intrinsic to understanding how it is produced and reproduced. I have not tried to examine other dimensions of women’s marginality, for example, by age, physical disability, class, and sexual preference. These further complexities of “multiple minority groups” need to be examined in the future (Deegan, 1985). The nongendered term – “the marginal person” – can be defined now, because the specific work of separating gender from the male standard as normal has been done: Feminist analysis requires a movement beyond the limits of gender to a broader world.
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THE MARGINAL PERSON The marginal person includes men and women, of different races, ethnicities, physical statuses, sexual preferences, classes, and ages. Although Park and his followers assumed that they were working with the concept of a marginal person, they were not. They assumed that the hegemonic view of white, able-bodied, capitalist, and heterosexual men was the standard, “normal” experience. Within a competitive society, however, only a small number of white men fit the image of capitalist success, political power, youth, heterosexuality, and health that is idealized. The marginal person is, therefore, the most typical person in American life. Typically, a person’s perception of the self, experience of the world, and access to material resources do not fit the ideal situation. Marxists call this experience “alienation” and restrict it to proletarian workers in a bourgeois society, but Marxists err in oversimplifying the sources of alienation. Experiential distance from the self arising from material deprivation is only one of the myriad ways of being marginal in today’s world (Deegan, 1989b). People with material goods who are elderly, gay, female, black or exhibit any other “unacceptable” trait (what Goffman calls a “stigma,” 1963) are also distanced from the self and the other. Jane Addams (another colleague exploited by Park, see Deegan, 1988), thoroughly analyzed these multiple problems of social, financial, and political estrangement throughout her work (see Addams, 1910). The career of W. I. Thomas also demonstrates the vulnerability of even powerful, heterosexual, able-bodied, white men to becoming a “marginal person.” Marginality characterizes our world and lives. Women’s marginality – the way of being a stranger at home – extends into ever-widening groups. Like any exploitation, the cost is expected to be borne by “the other,” but ultimately a price is extracted from everyone. Even members of minority groups participate in the process of making others marginal (e.g. Frazier, 1955). The dog-eat-dog cycle of minority relations leads to a perpetuation of oppression even by the disenfranchised (Deegan, 1985). American people have developed a way of being-in-the-world and having “fun that is tied to alienation” (Deegan, 1989b). The patriarchal worldview, moreover, permeates our actions and thought and shapes reality. Berger, Berger and Luckmann (1973) characterized this way of being-in-the-world as a “homeless mind.” Although they do not link their concept to feminism, they connect it to modernity, bureaucratization, the concept of “human rights” versus “human dignity,” and a technological worldview. These broad social trends are directly tied to the marginal person who characterizes modern life. Such pervasive “typical” marginality, however, must be seen as distinct from minority discrimination.
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These issues were confused by Park, and they need to be disintangled wherever possible.
MINORITY GROUPS AND THE MARGINAL PERSON “The minority group” was first defined by Louis Wirth (1945) (another Chicago sociologist), and refers to a subjective, group awareness of an objective situation of social inequality. This concept has generated a complex literature of its own, including Hacker’s insightful articles on women (1951, 1975) and homosexuals (1977) as minority groups. I have also discussed how minority and marginal statuses interact for women of color in Western societies and for women who emigrate. Thus the association between marginality and minority experience has always been close, and the processes sometimes overlap, but I try to untangle more of their separate strands here. Because marginality is such a deeply painful and typical experience, the members of the majority group cannot believe that they are as powerful as they appear to be from a minority group’s perspective. Although the majority group – whether the majority is defined as able-bodied, white, male, heterosexual, or young – benefits from their discriminatory practices towards minority groups, the individual member of a majority group usually is powerless and victimized in someway in everyday life. When a person from the majority group focuses on his or her pain – a common practice in minority groups as well – the group consciousness needed to see “the other,” in a “we relationship” (Schutz, 1967) is limited or perhaps totally absent. By dichotomizing the self and the other, and then linking that dichotomy to other patriarchal dichotomies – good versus bad, male versus female, public versus private (Taft, 1915) – marginality remains hidden. The “typical” experience of isolation and powerlessness is obscured and perpetuated. These perceptions and emotions may be channeled into a deeper identification with the system or into discrimination itself. Discrimination against “the other” provides a temporary sense of belonging to a powerful group, thereby generating a mechanism to strengthen discrimination through time. Discrimination emerging from “typical marginality” becomes a “surplus” cost (Marcuse, 1964) in addition to the costs of being a minority group that is borne by people throughout their lives. Members of minority groups, therefore, experience a much deeper level of inequality and marginality than the “typical” marginality of white males who are members of the majority group. The member of the minority group experiences subjective and objective discrimination, but this explicit and recognized discrimination may hide or confound their experience of
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“typical” marginality arising from the modern “homeless mind.” Understanding the connections between multiple minority statuses and other forms of marginality is central to understanding everyday life. The potential power to see dichotomized lives as intrinsically destructive to the marginal person is truncated in American life. The minority group’s definition of the “typical” marginal person as a person with few social restrictions is understandable, but this definition of the situation points away from understanding and healing the community as a whole. Although the white male is not a minority person and has the least marginal position in Western society, few white males significantly control the community. Instead, it the hegemonic patterns and values emergent from patriarchal dichotomies that must be eliminated for a liberated society and self. This is a community revolution requiring a revision of our entire way of being-in-the-world. Thus “typical marginality” and minority experiences are distinct but interactive processes.
CONCLUSION The concept of “the marginal man” is rooted in a historically specific practice of patriarchal sociology and this, in turn, is connected to a patriachal society. Although Park claimed that this concept was an innovation, it was tied to the unrecognized writings of Thomas, especially his work in the 1921 text, Old World Traits Transplanted. Because of Park’s opportunistic appropriation of primary authorship in this book, he avoided connecting his work on the marginal man to the work of Thomas and Park’s work became less logical and systematic with this intellectual gap. Thomas’ other work on the immigrant and people of multiple racial/ethnic heritage in America also provided a fundamental albeit largely unacknowledged foundation for the concept. Simmel was a far “safer” mentor to acknowledge than Thomas. Park viewed the marginal man from the perspective of a powerful, able-bodied, heterosexual, white male, advancing his majority perspective as the normative experience for defining the marginal situation. This patriarchal practice was infused with new complications by Park and his students in their writings during the 1930s. Park’s intellectual debts to both W. I. Thomas and to Booker T. Washington during these years has been overlooked and hidden for many decades. Uncovering the patriarchal practice embedded in the concept of marginal man allows us to re-analyze the gendered nature of this concept and create new concepts to more fully capture the experience. Here I examined “the marginal woman” as the quintessential other. Woman as other is an international experience shaped by numerous structural factors, such as race, age, physical abilities, class, ethnicity,
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religion, and sexual preference. I linked the early feminist sociology of Jessie Taft and Jane Addams to the present work of Rosabeth Moss Kanter, Jessie Bernard, and Dorothy E. Smith, among others, to show the deliberate, gendered choices that are made in defining sociological knowledge. Taft and Addams, in particular, explored the gendered experiences of marginal persons in Chicago during the early years of the twentieth century, but their work was not acknowledged in the patriarchal discourse of Park or his later interpreters. Finally, marginality itself is a “typical experience” characterizing modern life, and the concrete ways that patriarchal dichotomies injure the community is revealed by exploring the range of marginal statuses. Marginality perpetuates distance between the self and the other as a typical way of life by defining certain people as legitimate “others to be exploited” – as Park exploited W. I. Thomas. Marginality is tied to the minority experience in the particular way it justifies further discrimination and hides the social cost of discrimination from the oppressor. A complete re-definition of everyday life and the self is needed to end both marginality and the minority group. This is a project on the horizon of feminist theory and practice, incorporating and transcending the flawed patriarchal practice of Robert E. Park in a more liberated future.
ARCHIVES Ethel Sturgess Dummer Papers, Radcliffe College, The Arthur and Elizabeth Scheslinger Library of the History of Women in America, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
NOTES 1. Florian Znaniecki is another example of a marginal man in the discipline. He was a Polish philosopher/theorist who emigrated to the U.S.A., experienced the horrors of two world wars, and was never fully accepted by North American sociologists. He is, however, a founder of Polish sociology. 2. I am not claiming that all authorship, or all of Park’s authorship, is so contested. Authorship confers prestige and power in the male academy and, therefore, it can be a commodity subject to manipulation and competition. 3. Michael R. Hill suggested this term. I considered the words “plagiarized” and “stolen” but these concepts were not as precise. 4. An analysis of the sociological practice of creating a large number of marginal sociologists is a fascinating question beyond the scope of this paper. Greene and Driver provide a related analysis in their study of “the sociological negation” of W. E. B. Du Bois (1976), a process in which Park was an important actor. I also studied the process of
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labeling some people, especially W. I. Thomas and Jane Addams, as “not a sociologist” (1986). E. Franklin Frazier was particularly marginalized by Jim Crow laws during his era (Deegan, 1992), and Michael R. Hill documented this same process of erasure for an extremely powerful white man, Roscoe Pound, long-time Dean of Harvard Law School and the founder of sociological jurisprudence (1989). Each case of marginalizing a sociologist involves different factors: e.g. scandal, redefining the subject of sociology, removing powerful alternate visions, discrimination by race and gender, state apparatus, and gate-keeping through publications, cliques, association offices, etc. The political process of allocating the power of sociological theory to white men in Europe (such as Park’s use of Simmel) is another important factor in this process and it shapes all coursework and textbooks in sociology today. 5. W. E. B. Du Bois was rarely cited as a sociologist by Park or his students, especially because Park supported the ideas of Booker T. Washington while Du Bois opposed them. The process of marginalizing Du Bois deserves a separate, extensive treatment. For an excellent discussion of these issues see Dan S. Greene and Edwin D. Driver (1976). 6. As a symbolic interactionist and pragmatist in the tradition of George H. Mead and Jane Addams, I do not support the “post-modern” perspective. Although people create their social worlds, the consequences of their social acts are real. This is a re-statement of the “Thomas dictum” which is usually cited inaccurately as the work of W. I. Thomas alone and the co-authorship of Dorothy Swaine Thomas is erased. See Deegan (1994). 7. Taft’s work was also marginalized or ignored by Park. It is unclear how much a doctoral student in the department of philosophy, such as Taft, would be recognized by a sociologist, but Park noted the work of many other Chicago graduates and Thomas and Taft had an extended relationship (Deegan, 1986).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS It is a pleasure to thank Luigi Tomasi and Anthony Blasi for their help in producing this chapter and other papers on Park and introducing me to so many charming and erudite Parkian scholars, especially Jeffrey Crane, Thomas Keil, and Barbra Lal. Luigi Tomasi’s work on Chicago sociology and its relation to modern Europe has been especially challenging. Michael R. Hill read early drafts of this paper and helped clarify my ideas, and Sharon Larson shared her skills as a research assistant.
REFERENCES Abbott, E. (1910). Women in industry. New York: Macmillan. Addams, J. (1910). Twenty years at Hull-House. New York: Macmillan. Berger, P., Berger, B., & Luckmann, T. (1973). The homeless mind. New York: Random House. Bernard, J. (1981). The female world. New York: Free Press. Deegan, M. J. (1985). Multiple minority groups. In: M. J. Deegan & N. Brooks (Eds), Women and Disability. The Double Handicap (pp. 37–55). New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction.
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Deegan, M. J. (1986). The clinical sociology of Jessie Taft. Clinical Sociology Review, 4, 30–45. Deegan, M. J. (1988). Transcending a patriarchal past: Teaching the history of early women sociologists. Teaching Sociology, 16(April), 141–159. Deegan, M. J. (1989a). A rose is not a Rosa, is not a Roseanne. Paper presented at the North Central Sociological Association, Akron, OH. Deegan, M. J. (1989b). American ritual dramas: Social rules and cultural meanings. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Deegan, M. J. (1992). Professional life behind the veil. Keynote address presented at the Hawai’i Sociological Association meetings. Deegan, M. J. (1994). Bringing Dorothy Swaine Thomas back into ‘the Thomas theorem.’ Midwest Feminist Papers (Midwest Sociologists for Women in Society), [new series, 4], 3–7. Deegan, M. J. (1995). The second sex and the Chicago school: Women’s accounts, knowledge, and work, 1945–1960. In: G. Fine (Ed.), A Second Chicago School? (pp. 322–364). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Deegan, M. J. (in press). Dear love, dear love: Feminist pragmatism and the Chicago female world of love and ritual. Gender and Society. Deegan, M. J., & Hill, M. R. (Eds) (1987). Women and symbolic interaction. Boston: Allen & Unwin. Durkheim, E. (1933). The division of labor in society. Translated by G. Simpson. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Faris, R. E. L. (1967). Chicago sociology: 1920–1932. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Frazier, E. F. (1955). The black bourgeoisie. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Gilman, C. P. (1966) (c. 1898). Women and economics. New York: Harper Torchbooks. Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Goffman, E. (1977). The arrangement between the sexes. Theory and Society, 4(Fall), 301–331. Greene, D. S., & Driver, E. D. (1976). W. E. B. Du Bois: A case in the sociology of sociological negation. Phylon, 38(4), 308–333. Hacker, H. M. (1951). Women as a minority group. Social Forces, 30(October), 60–69. Hacker, H. M. (1975). Women as minority group twenty years later. In: R. K. Unger & F. L. Denmark (Eds), Women: Dependent or Independent Variable? (pp. 103–115). New York: Psychological Dimensions. Hill, M. R. (1989). Roscoe Pound and American sociology. Doctoral Dissertation, University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Department of Sociology. Hughes, E. E. (1964). Robert E. Park. New Society (31 December), 543–549. Hughes, H. M. (1968). Park, Robert E. In: David L. Sills (Ed.), International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences (Vol. 11, pp. 416–418). New York: Macmillan and Free Press. Jaworski, G. (1995). Simmel in early American sociology. International Journal of Politics, Culturem, and Society, 8(3), 389–417. Kanter, R. M. (1977). Men and women of the corporation. New York: Basic Books. Kurtz, L. R. (1984). Evaluating Chicago sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lal, B. B. (1990). The romance of culture in an urban civilization. London: Routledge. Lal, B. B. (1994). The celebration of ethnicity as a critique of American life. In: R. Gubert & L. Tomasi (Eds), Robert E. Park and the “Melting Pot” Theory (pp. 91–116). (Sociologia, No. 9). Trento (Italy): Reverdito Editzioni. Lasch, C. (1977). Haven in a heartless world. New York: Basic Books. Marcuse, H. (1964). The one-dimensional man. Boston: Beacon Press. Mathieu, N.-C. (1988). ‘Woman’ in ethnology: The other of the other, and the other of the self (Trans. by M. J. Lakeland). Feminist Issues, 8(Spring), 3–14.
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Mead, G. H. (1934). Mind, self and society. Edited and introduced by C. Morris. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Mernissi, F. (1975). Behind the veil. Cambridge, MA: Schenkan Publishing. Mitchell, J. (1972). Women’s estate. New York: Random House Vintage Books. Park, R. E. (1928). Human migration and the marginal man. American Journal of Sociology, 33(May), 881–893. Park, R. E. (1931). Personality and cultural conflict. Publications of the American Sociological Society, 25(May), 95–110. Park, R. E. (1937). Cultural conflict and the marginal man. In: E. V. Stonequist, the introduction to The Marginal Man (pp. xiii–xvii). New York: Scribner’s. Park, R. E. (1941). Methods of teaching. Social Forces, 20 (October). Reprinted in S. M. Lyman, Militarism, Imperialism, and Racial Accommodation (pp. 306–318). Fayettsville: University of Arkansas Press, 1992. Park, R. E. (1950). Race and culture. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Park, R. E. (1955). Society. Glencoe, IL: Free Press. Park, R. E., & Burgess, E. W. (1921). Introduction to the science of sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Platt, J. (1992). ‘Acting as a switchboard’: Mrs. Ethel Sturgess Dummer’s role in sociology. American Sociologist, 23(Fall), 23–36. Rauschenbush, W. (1979). Robert E. Park. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Reinharz, S. (1987). The social psychology of a miscarriage. In: M. J. Deegan & M. R. Hill (Eds), Women and Symbolic Interaction (pp. 229–250). Winchester, MA: Allen & Unwin. Reuter, E. B. (1918). The Mulatto in the United States. Boston: Badger Press. Schutz, A. (1967). The phenomenology of the social world. Translated by G. Walsh & F. Lehnert and introduced by G. Walsh. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press. Simmel, G. (1971a). The Stranger. In: D. N. Levine (Ed.), On Individuality and Social Forms (pp. 143–149). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Simmel, G. (1971b). The Metropolis and mental life. In: D. N. Levine (Ed.), On Individuality and Social Forms (pp. 324–339). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Smith, D. E. (1975). An analysis of ideological structures and how women are excluded. Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology, 12(1), 353–369. Smith, D. E. (1974a). The ideological practice of sociology. Catalyst, 8(Winter), 39–54. Smith, D. E. (1974b). Women’s perspective as a radical critique of sociology. Sociological Inquiry, 4(1), 7–13. Smith, D. E. (1977). Some implications of a sociology for women. In: N. Glazer & H. Youngelson (Eds), Woman in a Man-Made World (pp. 15–29). Waeher (2nd ed.). Chicago: Rand McNally. Smith-Rosenberg, C. (1975). The female world of love and ritual. Signs, 1(Autumn), 1–29. Stanfield, J. (1985). Philanthropy and Jim Crow in American social science. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Taft, J. (1915). The woman movement and social consciousness. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Thomas, W. I. (1923). The unadjusted girl: With cases and standpoint for behavior analysis. Boston: Little, Brown. [Thomas, W. I.], Park, R. E. (listed erroneously as first author) & Miller, H. A. (1921). Old world traits transplanted. New York: Harper & Brothers. (Reprint, with the authorship of “W. I. Thomas Together with Robert E. Park and Herbert A. Miller,” a new introduction by Donald R. Young. Montclair, NJ: Patterson Smith, 1971).
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Thomas, W. I., & Znaniecki, F. (1918–1920). The Polish peasant in Europe and America (5 Vols.). Boston: Richard G. Badger. (Vols. 1 and 2 orig. pub. University of Chicago Press, 1918). Turner, R. H. (1967). Introduction. Robert E. Park: On Social Control and Collective Behavior. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Volkhardt, E. H. (Ed.) (1951). Social behavior and personality: Contributions of W. I. Thomas to theory and social research. New York: Social Science Research Council. Wirth, L. (1945). The problems of minority groups. In: R. Linton (Ed.), The Science of Man in the World Crisis (pp. 347–372). New York: Columbia University Press. Zaretsky, E. (1976). Capitalism, the family, and personal life. New York: Harper & Row.
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PART V: CLASS AND MARGINALITY
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THE MARGINAL STATUS OF TEACHERS IN AN ELITE SCHOOL SYSTEM: SECONDARY EDUCATION IN NINETEENTH AND EARLY TWENTIETH-CENTURY FRANCE Frederique Van de Poel-Knottnerus and J. David Knottnerus ABSTRACT This study examines the world of teachers in the elite secondary school system – i.e. lyc´ees and coll`eges – of France in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Literary and social historical sources are utilized to construct a composite portrait of the personal and social lives of these individuals. Five key dimensions of teachers’ lives are examined: classroom dynamics, professional hierarchy, transfer promotional system, social structural conditions and rank, and social emotional factors. It is concluded that these teachers possessed a very unique marginal position within the educational system and French society as a whole. Attention is directed to the various ways this condition affected these individuals. The historical case study of this occupational group in a setting outside of the United States contributes to comparative analyses of teachers and the dynamics of educational institutions including elite school systems, research Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 231–251 © 2005 Published by Elsevier Ltd. ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12011-4
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into total institutions, and the investigation of a key concept in sociological analysis “marginality.”
INTRODUCTION This paper examines the world of teachers in the lyc´ees and coll`eges – secondary school system – of France in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This is important for several reasons. While some research has examined the experiences and roles of teachers in educational systems many questions remain (e.g. Lortie, 1975). This is especially the case in regards to elite schools which often play a crucial role in the reproduction of societal elites and socio-economic inequalities (Bourdieu, 1977; Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977). Although interest in such schools has been increasing, most research has been directed to the youth who are schooled in these institutions or the overall organization of these educational systems (Kingston & Lewis, 1990; Van de Poel-Knottnerus & Knottnerus, 1992). In certain instances the lives of teachers have received some attention, particularly within modern school systems in American or English boarding schools (Cookson & Persell, 1985; Wakeford, 1969). Still, the investigation of teachers in elite schools throughout history and in different societies is quite limited. A plausible expectation is that teachers occupy at least a moderately privileged position in these elite settings and in society at large. This should be even more the case if the school clearly fits the definition of a total institution (Goffman, 1961) where a strong distinction between staff and residents exists with the staff significantly benefiting from their privileged position within the organization. Because the lyc´ees and coll`eges of early modern France were extreme instances of an elite total institution it seems likely that the quality of life of teachers and their position in society were both enhanced and clearly recognized. For these reasons the present investigation examines the key occupational experiences, structural features, and interaction patterns of secondary school teachers within early modern France. By examining the conditions of teachers within their schools and society this historical case study contributes to our understanding of an important occupational group and those efforts aimed at comparative analyses of teachers and the dynamics of elite educational institutions. Most importantly, however, it contributes to our understanding of a core analytical concept – marginality – because, contrary to expectations, this study reveals a group subject to various deprivations and quite conflicting social pressures. Among the various factors contributing to this situation was that teachers occupied a position between the lower/working and bourgeois classes, that is between their class of origin and the privileged class they were educated with
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and eventually taught. What resulted was a very unique marginal position for teachers, a situation described in various ways by those such as Simmel (1971), Park (1967), and Mannheim (1956).
METHOD This study utilizes historical sources and a methodological procedure referred to as “literary ethnography” (Van de Poel-Knottnerus & Knottnerus, 1992, 1994). Such a method involves an intensive and systematic reading of a range of literary documents which deal with a particular subject matter. By reading and identifying within these works distinguishable patterns of actors’ lives and environment, it is possible to construct a composite portrait of their social milieu. In this approach the repeated reference to certain themes found in various writers’ works, i.e. motifs, would signify the most salient features of actors’ lives. This is an interpretative procedure in which the researcher engages in a focused reading of a range of literary documents. This method, we would argue, is most reliable when limited to certain types of works: fictional works (including novels, plays, short stories, or fictionalized autobiographies), autobiographies, and biographies. In the present study numerous literary texts are available for examination because in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries a tradition of literature emerged in France in which authors discussed their own and others’ childhood experiences in the secondary school system. These and other literary works provide a significant amount of commentary concerning the experiences of teachers. For this investigation 65 texts were examined.1 In sum, this procedure along with historical and sociological data are utilized to construct and corroborate the portrait which emerges from this methodological approach. By employing this type of methodological triangulation our confidence in the accuracy of our findings are strengthened.
THE WORLD OF TEACHERS The investigation of this occupational group centers on their activities within the secondary school system in early modern France (i.e. nineteenth and early twentieth centuries) and how that institution influenced their lives. Briefly, the first lyc´ees were created in 1803 by Napoleon. Originally serving only male youth (women’s schools were created in the later part of the nineteenth century), they sought to inculcate pupils with the skills and motivation needed to serve their
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country. They were highly regulated organizations in which pupils were dealt with in an extremely strict manner whether they were boarders or day students (see Anderson, 1975; Baker & Harrigan, 1980; Bernard, 1969; Gerbod, 1968; Goblot, 1925; Halls, 1965, 1976; Smith, 1982).
Classroom Dynamics A number of distinctive patterns highlighting the most significant dimensions of teachers’ lives emerge from our examination of literary and social historical documents. Some of these patterns are found in the classroom where the teacher spends the largest majority of his (they were usually men) working time.2 Let us first emphasize, however, that the pedagogical style of public schools in France is the product of various historical conditions and a cultural environment including expectations and practices derived from institutions such as the military, French Catholic schools, middle-class families, and bureaucracies (e.g. Padberg, 1969; Pitts, 1963). What these historical and cultural practices resulted in was a very distinct interactional pattern in schools which was quite significant for teachers. Indeed, as this paper shall suggest, these historical conditions led to a number of salient interactional and structural features which characterized and profoundly influenced teachers’ lives. In the school, the teacher occupies a privileged rank relative to students which is rigidly maintained in all of his classroom activities (e.g. Crozier, 1964, pp. 238–244; Pitts, 1963; Taine, 1894; Wylie, 1957). Lecturing his students from a podium he dominates his audience. Students must listen and never intervene, speaking only if a question has been asked. The typical course which lasts two hours is dedicated to the correction and returning of homework from the day before. One by one, each student is given his homework receiving either praise or blame in front of the entire class. During this activity and at other times teachers would often ridicule and humiliate their students (Pitts, 1963; for literary accounts see Daudet, 1930; Flaubert, 1965; Jouhandeau, 1951). After this time consuming task, homework would be distributed for the following day. Once the new lesson is given the teacher spends most of his time focused upon the work his students have prepared during their long hours of study hall. Simone de Beauvoir describes the typical situation (1958, p. 158): “[the teacher’s] work amounted to giving us back our essays, to dictating the correction and having us recite the lesson learned from the textbook.” Great importance is given to homework written outside the classroom. In fact, the teacher seems to limit his activities to the content of the written exercises without showing any interest in the student as a person. Anderson (1975, p. 21) notes that
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in the lyc´ee teachers do not establish a personal rapport with their students and conscientiously maintain a great distance between themselves and their pupils. The impersonal nature of relations within the boys’ lyc´ees was reflected in the teacher’s habit of only addressing his students by a solemn “Messieurs.” Moreover, as soon as the lesson was completed relations between teachers and students were nearly nonexistent because the latter spent the rest of the day in supervised study halls. For the student, the teacher remains a distant person who discourages any familiarity and who inspires fear because he punishes the ones who do not behave by giving them extra homework or throwing them out of the classroom. Inside the classroom, the teacher has an authority “without counterpart” (Mayeur, 1981, p. 496). This is clearly evident in the fact that nobody can prevent him from dismissing a student who bothers him even if he uses this method to excess. Mayeur (1981) informs us that some students spent up to nineteen days per month outside of the classroom. For the young student, the teacher is an imposing personage who, either through fear or admiration, knows how to obtain the child’s respect. Indeed, as we shall see the teacher enjoys a prestige in the classroom which is not equaled anywhere else.
Professional Hierarchy As we move from the classroom to the teachers’ professional world their prestige becomes more problematic. In the profession a distinct hierarchy exists with the teacher of letters, i.e. French, Latin, Greek, occupying the highest position. In 1842, 58% of the teaching personnel are teachers of letters and, in 1912, two thirds of the “agreg´es” (those who have passed the “agr´egation” – competitive examination for admission on the teaching staff of State secondary schools or universities) are specialists in these subjects (Guiral & Thuillier, 1982). Not surprisingly, more than half of the school’s program is devoted to them. Within this category of teachers, however, the ranking system is more extensive. For instance, we find that Latin receives the greatest honors (Mayeur, 1981, p. 502): “Compared to Greek, one prefers Latin, which receives the lion’s share, no matter what epoch . . . and not any kind of Latin: Cicero’s, Sallust’s, Tite-Lives’s, Virgil’s Latin.” Distinctions are made not only between the most prestigious languages but even within them in regards to, for example, the type of Latin one teaches. The high status accorded Latin is also reflected in teachers’ mode of instruction. When students study Latin authors, they must write in the language since discourse is the most important subject. As noted by the linguist Br´eal (1872),
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in these schools rhetoricians focus only on writing and discourse. The complaint has even been registered that school children have not once (Mayeur, 1981, p. 502) “in seven years of schooling expressed one single thought in French by themselves.”3 In the study of the less prestigious French language there is also a distinct ranking of subject matter. While Latin and Greek course work involves studying all aspects of their respective cultures, French classes are often restricted to the study of the classics. Gerbod (1968, p. 131) reminds us that “the privileged French Writers are the ones of the ‘Grand Si`ecle’ (the age of Louis XIV), the XVIIth” and that “the contemporary authors are banished from the programs.” Thus, Juliette Adam studied the entire work of Racine, to the great joy of her father who despised the literature of his time and only admired the ancient Greeks and their “imitators.” She states (1902, p. 326): “My father . . . approved my projects and in particular my choice for a teacher [who] . . . started by persuading me that I had to copy every day five pages of Racine’s work.” Other examples reveal the same orientation. In 1854, in order to participate in a competition of French recitation, one had to be capable of reciting Athalie (Racine) from beginning to end. In a similar vein Vall`es describes one of his teachers (1958, p. 285): The French teacher . . . reads tirades (passages) of Iphig´enie or Esther, and when it is over, he joins his hands, looks at the ceiling full of spiders, and screams: ‘On your knee! on your knee! in front of the divine Racine!’ Once, there was a new student who really fell on his knee.4
It is clear, therefore, that for many years attending high school principally involved studying the humanities. The program included translations from French to Latin and Greek and from Latin and Greek to French, Latin, and French discourse, literary exercises, and recitations of poets. With this excessive emphasis on the humanities and the literary nature of the “baccalaur´eat” it is not surprising that other subjects played a marginal role in the educational program. Actually, programs of “agr´egation” had been in place for subjects such as history since the middle of the nineteenth century. However, these specialties only attracted a very small number of people. Furthermore, these subjects, as well as geography, physical education, and art were only infrequently offered. Even the sciences, which at least until 1880 basically involved mathematics, were only studied three hours a week until the class of rhetorics (i.e. eleventh grade). Only philosophy classes were offered nine hours a week. And, if a student, when taking his baccalaur´eat exam, had good results in Latin translation and French composition, he could have a zero in mathematics and still graduate (Mayeur, 1981).
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Foreign languages were in even less favor since they weren’t studied more than one hour per week in the philosophy class. Some schools even used unqualified teachers (Ajalbert, 1938, p. 40): “All you needed to teach [English] was the minimum diploma. Many students knew more than their instructors, because they spoke English with their ‘nurse’ and spent their vacations in England.”5 Thus, the teaching of languages was viewed as insignificant; this was reflected in the quality of instruction. This is apparent in the case of Mallarm´e who started his career by teaching English. Ajalbert, who had him as teacher, remembers his experience (1938, p. 43): “We did not know anything about St´ephane Mallarm´e. We did not ‘bother’ him, barely . . . He was writing a few verses on the board for us to translate and learn, then he would sit behind his desk, behind a barrier of books and papers, where he worked for himself.” Other subjects such as geography also received little recognition. “Rare were the teachers who showed some interest in this discipline which was always considered ‘minor’ ” (Gerbod, 1968, p. 134). Sometimes it even happened that geography was taught by chance, as Lavisse ironically admits (quoted by Mayeur, 1981, p. 509): “I only once taught geography at the lyc´ee Charlemagne . . .; the day when, behind M. Boissier, a map came loose from the wall, I was put in charge of hanging it up again.” The same applied to courses in physical education and art. Physical education became mandatory at a very late date in the history of the lyc´ees (the first laws establishing it were after the 1870s), yet it still was not given serious consideration as reflected in the deplorable conditions in which it was practiced (Van de Poel-Knottnerus, 1992). It, like art, was considered useless as seen in the reaction of a vice principal to a student who, having received awards in both subjects, wanted to participate in the dinner given to honor the recipients of various awards. “When the boy made his request, [the vice principal] burst into laughter: Physical education and art? Oh no! that does not count! That would be too easy” (Cesbron, 1948, p. 203). In essence, those who taught subjects such as geography, foreign languages, or physical education possessed a much lower status than their colleagues who taught “arts and letters.” More precisely, an explicit system of status distinctions existed among teachers which determined the honorific status they bestowed upon each other. These status distinctions among teachers in general and even more so among the “arts and letters” teachers, shaped all aspects of their lives including the tendency to associate with other teachers. Witness the comment of Guiral and Thuillier (1982, p. 29): “The English teacher had a tendency to keep apart and to sometimes despise his colleagues. It was a protection against the arts and letters teachers for whom existed only the classic humanities.” Thus, we find degrees of social exclusion and isolation among teachers engendered by their own explicit ranking system.
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Transfer Promotional System In addition to the ranking system among teachers another dimension of their professional world had a profound impact upon their lives. Teachers had to utilize a transfer system in order to obtain promotions. For a few individuals each year who were winners of the “grand concours” (i.e. national annual competition) this was unnecessary for they began teaching at the elite lyc´ees in Paris. However, for the vast majority of new teachers their first assignments were in other locations followed by numerous transfers. Moving from one city to another was the means by which promotions were obtained. Normally, we find that most teachers wish to be transferred to the capital city but in reality most young teachers are first assigned to a position in province (i.e. country), including those who graduated in Paris. In nearly all cases teachers who finally obtain a position in Paris will have taught in several locations in province before reaching their final destination. In the process, however, these moves have a powerful effect upon their social lives because they always result in the loss of relationships with others in the community. Consequently, this system contributed to teachers’ social isolation. Promotions are directly related to job salaries and the importance of the city where the school is located. Thus, in 1808, a teacher in Pontivy (a third level lyc´ee) earned 1400 francs while his colleague in Louis-Le-Grand (Paris) earned 5500 francs (Guiral & Thuillier, 1982). But, how does one get promoted? Sometimes it is by connections (Vall`es, 1958, p. 90): “Thanks to the protection of a friend, my father was hired as a teacher in Saint-Etienne. He had to go right away.” In reality, teachers do not seem to place great confidence in their immediate superiors’ abilities to obtain promotions for them. As Gerbod points out (1968, p. 54): “In order to obtain more secure support for their request for transfer or promotion, the teachers resort to recommendations from outside the school itself. They ignore or pretend to ignore the presence of their ‘natural chiefs,’ the school principals.” This is not really surprising when it is realized that some educators are subject to the authority of quite dishonest principals who will dismiss them for inappropriate reasons. For example, in L’enfant (1958), Vall`es explains that his former principal easily found the way to fire one of the teachers, falsifying his record, only because the latter did not get along with the cleaning person. Because the principal valued this employee more than the teacher he did not hesitate to dismiss him. Transfers are usually obtained because of the recommendation of the “inspecteur g´en´eral.” This individual possesses a great deal of authority which is reflected in the state of unease generated by his visits to the lyc´ee. “As soon as one of these high personalities of the Education system was announced, a black terror invaded the school’s walls. Our poor teachers were doubly zealous” (Jammes, 1971, p. 118).
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And if these observations come from a child, in Quand prime le spirituel we see what a teacher actually feels when he or she is going to be inspected (de Beauvoir, 1979, p. 56): I arrived at the lyc´ee full of courage. I was expecting the visit of the inspecteur g´en´eral this morning and I was a little troubled when starting my class because I knew that L. was well disposed toward me, that G. had talked to him about me and that if I made a good impression on him, he wouldn’t refuse his support. I don’t feel like rotting for years in this hole.
Thus, we find that the transfer system is grounded in a more encompassing authority structure in which teachers are continually subject to great scrutiny with respect to their promotions as well as the manner in which they perform their professional duties. Indeed, they were constantly being watched by the authorities and were largely deprived of their independence. “They revolt against the surveillance they are submitted to: school directors, principals, inspecteurs g´en´eraux are the ‘patented inquisitors’ of a central administration which is ‘blind and omnipotent’ ” (Gerbod, 1968, p. 194). Teachers, we find, are subject to an extreme authority and surveillance system which is also directed at students (Van de Poel-Knottnerus & Knottnerus, 1993).
Social Rank Despite these conditions many individuals were highly motivated to seek this occupation. This is largely because teaching represented a social promotion for these individuals. In achieving this position most teachers moved out of the social class into which they were born. Nevertheless, this position was characterized by great contradictions. Education in French lyc´ees and coll`eges prepared the members of the elite classes for their future roles in society – usually in government, commerce, or the military. For the members of the lower classes who were able to attend the secondary school system (a minority of the school population) it was impossible to reach these highly valued positions which were reserved for the elites. Thus, while the education given in these institutions prepared the bourgeoisie for their future careers, the secondary school system welcomed as teachers the ones who were able to obtain diplomas but, because of their social origins, were denied access to other prestigious positions. “The teachers are ‘scholarship holders’ doomed to the instruction and the education of the ‘inheritors’ ” (Gerbod, 1968, p. 40). It is, therefore, not surprising that at the end of the nineteenth century many teachers were the children of merchants, peasants, and instructors (i.e. primary school teachers). While not always the case, many of these teachers are from the
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working classes (Zeldin, 1973, p. 481) with the “large majority of teachers [having] parents who were socially inferior to themselves” (Zeldin, 1977, p. 306). For example, Gerbod (1965, pp. 110, 629, 636) states that 55% of the teachers are from artisan, shopkeeper, or peasant families. Zeldin (1977, p. 306) also points out the largest proportion of teachers – 40% in 1850 and 33% in 1910 – are from families of artisans, small shopkeepers, and clerks and that 10% of teachers in 1850 and 14% in 1910 are from peasant families. About one-fifth to one-quarter of teachers are sons of teachers, quite often primary teachers (although in certain periods more fathers were secondary teachers than primary teachers). As Zeldin also notes, only one-tenth of teachers in 1850 and 1910 come from families in managerial and liberal professions. Variations in these patterns, it should be appreciated, do exist. In the Ecole Normale Sup´erieure, the most elite educational institution for teachers, we find that significant proportions of teachers come from upper and middle class families (Karady, 1972, pp. 40, 41; Smith, 1982, p. 34). Other teachers who are not normaliens, however, have more modest origins (Karady, 1972; Smith, 1982). Overall then, a large proportion of teachers come from families of a lower social rank (for other discussions of these and related issues see Charle, 1987; Vincent, 1966, 1969). In contrast to their modest background teaching provides many of these young educators with an opportunity for improving their station in life. For this reason, it is difficult to clearly categorize the secondary school teacher’s rank in society. The teacher belongs to an intellectual elite. The importance of this achievement is seen in the fact that “three-quarters of secondary teachers came from homes with virtually no traditions of culture, or sometimes even literacy” (Zeldin, 1977, p. 307). This acquisition of culture is the major accomplishment of their lives which in turn is why they are so conservatively committed to the study of the classics. This achievement is what defines who they are and gives them a sense of distinction (Vincent, 1966; Zeldin, 1977). Nevertheless, this accomplishment has little bearing on the economic rewards they receive for their work. While not poor they usually must accept what is at best a modest life style. The typical salary of a teacher employed in a lyc´ee in the beginning of this century is often not sufficient to take care of the expenses he normally encounters. Not infrequently, he has difficulties reaching the end of the month without asking for an advance and even then it is not certain that he will obtain it. “Yesterday, I went to the lyc´ee to teach my last classes . . . This morning I passed by the bursary to find out if they could pay me something beforehand; they replied that it couldn’t be done. Yet, in Beauvais, I was always able to work something out with the bursar” (Sartre, 1945, p. 13). This quote, from L’ˆage de raison, shows us that the teacher is used to this type of situation. In fact, knowing too well that he risks finding himself in this embarrassing situation, the teacher usually offers his services outside the lyc´ee.
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For instance, Martin du Gard succeeded in catching up in his studies thanks to a teacher who after his classes took care of the future novelist (1955, p. XLII): “At the beginning of the tenth grade, my father, worried about how I continued to be encrusted at the bottom of the class, decided that I would become the boarder in Passy of a former student of the Ecole Normale he knew, a teacher of the lyc´ee Janson de Sailly, whose name was Louis Mellerio.” This was also the way Juliette Adam was able to pursue her advanced studies (1902, p. 326): “I told my grandmother about an idea that pleased her, to be given lessons by M. Tavernier, a teacher at the boarding school where my father had taught and who had the reputation of being able to inspire the taste for studies.” A similar method brought satisfactory results to Vall`es’ father (1958, p. 222): I heard that my father earns money. He is tutoring a lot. He takes six or seven students, each of them bringing him twenty-five francs, and he tells them for an hour things they don’t listen to; at the end of the month, he sends his bill, and with this distribution of past participles, between two classes, he makes a nice amount of money each trimester.
This last case, where avidity seems to overwhelm the desire to help students who have difficulties is in sharp contrast with another example from Pagnol who describes a teacher in Topaze (1928). In this case, the teacher is so kind that he gives free tutoring lessons which infuriates the school director. For the latter, such behavior will only lead parents to ask for free assistance for their children from all the teachers. He tells Topaze that he is taking bread out of the mouth of his colleagues “who cannot afford the luxury of working for nothing” (p. 24). In either case, these illustrative comments demonstrate the financial difficulties of teachers and show how beneficial is the practice of private tutoring. Some teachers, tired of this constant need for money, will finally decide to give up their career to devote themselves entirely to private lessons. One such example was a M. Pouey who decided to become a “free lance” teacher who prepared students for the baccalaur´eat including the future famous member of the French academy Jean Ajalbert. Pouey “had left the official education system, which took too much of one’s time and brought very little money, to specialize in this preparation ‘in extremis’ of the young men of good families afflicted of chronic nonchalance” (Ajalbert, 1938, p. 45). What we find then is that secondary teaching enabled these individuals, most of whom came from more modest backgrounds, to be upwardly mobile. Their newly achieved class position, however, is far from privileged for they still must struggle to maintain a tolerable life style. They are economically subordinate to the bourgeoisie. Indeed, they are often rejected by the bourgeoisie whose members have enjoyed financial security for several generations. As Prost states (1968, p. 361): “The teacher’s situation is . . . paradoxical; from the bourgeoisie
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he has the culture and the income; but he lacks from it the fortune and the power.” Moreover, as this quote suggests, power is another crucial dimension upon which teachers differ from the elite. This absence of power is perhaps most striking at the political level. Even at the time of the Dreyfus affair, when considerable efforts were made by teachers and many people began to pay attention to their political opinions, they were unable to provide any significant leadership in government affairs. Those such as lawyers and doctors still exercised much more power in the polity (Anderson, 1977, p. 67). Even when it came to the creation of new laws concerning programs in the lyc´ees, teachers did not have much impact. For example, in 1923 when the secondary teachers’ national Federation asked that the “modern” section be maintained in the lyc´ees, B´erard, the minister of education, refused to take into account their opinion and issued a decree announcing that Latin was mandatory for all students (Talbott, 1969). Because of their accomplishments many teachers are no longer part of the class they originated from. Compared to the elite whom they educate, however, they have very little influence and economically rank far below them. They belong to neither the bourgeoisie nor their class of origin.
Social Emotional Factors Despite these circumstances teachers did possess one other option for enhancing their status. They could enter into a “good” marriage. In this regard, the authors of La vie quotidienne des professeurs de 1870 a` 1940 (Guiral & Thuillier, 1982) note the case of the famous writer Romain Rolland who came from modest origins. Thanks to his marriage to the daughter of Br´eal, he ultimately acquired a university professorship. Such an occurrence, however, was the exception and not the norm. Usually, becoming a teacher had almost the opposite effect on individuals’ personal lives. As we move to the last general topic concerning the social and emotional experiences of teachers this becomes very apparent. To begin with, the educational system for many years favored single teachers. The teaching body of these nondenominational schools were quite similar to those of religious schools where the personnel had little contact with the outside world. They lived their lives inside the institution where, for instance, the entire population was united at “la table commune” (i.e. communal dining table) in the refectory. Up to 1850, teachers who lived inside the school were in great numbers. At this time 58% of the teachers were single (Guiral & Thuillier, 1982). For many years the interpersonal and affective rewards of marriage were beyond the reach of most teachers.
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Through the years, however, their situation changed. This was partly due to the transformation of the secondary educational system. Boarding schools disappeared and the teacher, like the student, increasingly went home at the end of the school day. It became easier for the teacher to create a domestic environment and to seek a more balanced life. Still, teachers suffered from a variety of problems. The ones who married almost never chose their spouse from the higher classes. Prost (1968) recalls that the teacher rarely marries a young lady from the bourgeoisie, even less a rich heiress. Generally, he marries the daughter of small shopkeepers, civil servants, or educators. “By his marriage, he goes back to his origins; the social promotion did not succeed.” Vall`es’ parents are the typical example of this situation (1958, p. 23): My father is the son of a peasant . . . My father . . . wanted to earn the “baccalaur´eat,” achieve honors, and for that reason moved into a small room in the back of a dark street, from where he gets out, during the day, to give tutoring lessons at ten francs an hour, and to where he goes back at night, to court a peasant who will be my mother.
When it came to probably the most important decision in their personal lives they returned to the class from which they originated to find an acceptable marriage partner. It should be noted that sometimes teachers married each other. When they did this union quite often brought more despair than satisfaction. Here too, the educational system, i.e. transfer program, was largely responsible for this condition. Upon graduation, the young teacher would normally obtain his first job in a lyc´ee of the third category, the lowest level. If he had already married and his spouse had chosen the same career, she faced the same fate. However, it was extremely likely that she would be appointed to a school in a different part of the country. Simone de Beauvoir addresses this issue and some of the stresses created by it in a conversation between three women teachers, one single, one married to a teacher, and the other one engaged to a teacher (1979, p. 91): In a conversation about the imminent marriage of Mademoiselle Lanthenoy . . . whose fiance was an art teacher in Lyon . . . ‘Lyon, it is very far’ Mademoiselle Lacombe said with compassion. ‘It is so sad not to have a home! said Madame Thomas, when my husband comes to see me, we are so bored, it is horrible!’ She was pregnant again . . . ‘We will see each other during vacation’ said Mademoiselle Lanthenoy with placidity.
In some cases two colleagues in the same location will marry. Unfortunately, they too will face a similar dilemma. Such separations can be frequent unless one does not wish to advance as was the case of one of Jouhandeau’s (1951) teachers who, having rejected the idea of being promoted, built a house in his province. He did this in the beginning of his career in order not to be tempted to accept any advancement that would have forced him to leave his native land. This, however, is
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a rare case. Most of the time members of the teaching profession move regularly, like Vall`es’ father who in a matter of a few years went from Le Puy to Saint Etienne to Nantes (1958). While such conditions had serious consequences for teachers their social life was compromised in other ways. The nature of their work and life style heightened their isolation from others in the community. After his school day the teacher would usually give several tutoring lessons before correcting homework and preparing classes for the next day. The duties associated with his occupation along with his private teaching functions were quite demanding and did not provide much time for leisure. Moreover, to others in the community he often looked like a nomad, moving from one school to another. It was difficult for the teacher to become acquainted with others let alone develop more intimate relations or achieve positions of trust in the community based upon long term associations. Many did not even hold the teacher and what he did in particularly high regard. This was not an uncommon observation; note the words of a teacher named Bersot (quoted by Gerbod, 1968, p. 191): We are considered like poor devils, not very clever, and we deserve our reputation. When one does “th`eme et version” (translating from Latin into French and French into Latin) during fourteen years, what kind of nice thing is one able to say? The real literary man puts his biography, all his sensations, all his joys in Latin verse. Unfortunately, this does not fit in society and salons.
Other comments suggest that many members of society actually looked down upon teachers. Moody (1978, p. 109) points out that teachers were dissatisfied with the lack of recognition “that they believed was due their calling.” Indeed, he (p. 110) suggests that they had “little defense against . . . a society that barely tolerated them.” These attitudes were even expressed in the theatre and literature. In this regard, Gerbod (1965, pp. 596–602) and Moody (1978, p. 224, Note 65) have identified some of the negative imagery about teachers transmitted through these media. For instance, in the comedy Le passage de V´enus (1879) Labiche portrays an astronomy professor who can attract only one student and must give up his lectures while in Le pion (1883) Durieu describes a successful lyc´ee teacher who is forced to take a position in a low status school because he upsets an authoritarian principal. The image which emerges from these various sources is that the teacher develops the greatest intimacy with his colleagues, even if these relationships do not last because of repeated transfers. Relationships with others in the outside world are rare because of the way teachers are viewed and because they “do not venture into the world” but rather “enclose themselves in a studious solitude” (Gerbod, 1968,
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p. 184). Of course, collegial relations are themselves fragmented and delimited due to the pervasive and rigid status distinctions found within the teachers’ professional world. It should be noted that while women comprised a minority of the teaching profession conditions for female teachers were probably even more difficult. For many years French society highly disapproved of women who pursued an education and worked instead of marrying and raising children. Their decision to pursue a career was not easily achieved although usually necessary due to conditions such as a lack of a dowry. For instance, most never married. Prost notes that a survey taken around 1900 showed that six out of ten women teachers were single and two were married to a male teacher (1968). Furthermore, it was even more difficult for a woman to be accepted by the wider community. Her integration into this world was especially problematic because teaching by women was originally done by nuns. Consequently, her departure from custom was met with disapproval by the “right-thinking bourgeoisie.” Far from her family and rejected by many her social life was extremely limited. Of course, it should be remembered that curricula and educational programs in girls’ secondary schools were not always the same as those existing in boys’ schools (for a recent examination of the preparation of women educators in an elite school system in the Third Republic see Margadant, 1990). Overall, secondary teachers, though as educated as the elite, were still social “outcasts” viewed as inferior and incapable of marrying into the elite class. The life style they must follow pushes many to the periphery of the community with a concomitant loss of social relationships and emotional ties.
DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION The results of this study suggest that the closest these teachers came to enjoying a privileged position was in the classroom and through their claim to the honorific status of being an intellectual elite. In all other areas of their organizational and social lives teachers occupied to varying degrees a marginal status. This is evident in their own hierarchical relations, repeated moves due to transfers and the resulting disruptions of their lives, relations with administrative staff, their class, status, and power positions in relation to the bourgeoisie and the class many originated from, and their social emotional lives ranging from certain features of their marriage to the social isolation they experienced. A similar pattern emerges if their situation is analyzed in terms of their being members of a total institution. As members of the staff their positions of authority allow them to exercise a very high degree of power over the youthful inhabitants
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of this elite institution. Yet, we also find that they are subjected, as are students, to the highly stratified organizational hierarchy – i.e. separated from the outside world with few ties to those in the wider community. They also seem to possess little authority in relation to the administrative staff, are subject to high degrees of surveillance by the staff, and suffer from a lack of control over their personal, social, and married lives. In essence, these teachers formed a group which was given extremely large degrees of power in a particular setting along with a certain amount of status for its cultural/intellectual accomplishments. This was contradicted, however, by the conditions just described which placed them in a relatively powerless position characterized by various strains and deprivations. It is as if they were “half in and half out” of the social and institutional milieu they were embedded in. Occupying a position between the lower/working and bourgeois classes, they formed what Mannheim (1956, p. 104) refers to as an “interstitial stratum.” Stated somewhat differently, these teachers provide us with an example of Park’s (1967) general concept of “marginality” and Simmel’s (1971, pp. 143–149) social type of the “stranger.” The latter is an actor who “is fixed within a certain spatial circle . . . but his position within it is fundamentally affected by the fact that he does not belong in it initially and that he brings qualities into it that are not, and cannot be, indigenous to it (p. 143).” At the heart of this condition is what Weisberger (1992) accurately defines as a “structure of double ambivalence.” In this state, “the marginal person is not only unable to sever ties with his or her own culture and to merge into the new one, but also is unable to return to the native culture or shrug off the influence of the new one” (p. 429). To a significant degree this is the condition experienced by these teachers many of whose response was to remain or abide in this ambivalent state, a condition similar to what Weisberger refers to as “poise.” Because of this conflicting state, the previously described adverse conditions experienced by these individuals, and the tension produced by them secondary teachers formed an occupational group with a very unique marginal status in French society. Such conditions undoubtedly affected teachers’ feelings and opinions about themselves and their work. Of course, caution should be exercised in making overly broad generalizations because variations existed among these individuals and many exhibited a strong commitment to the educational enterprise. Nevertheless, evidence strongly suggests that they experienced a great deal of dissatisfaction due to their situation. Perhaps most importantly, “their journals specify their discontent: inadequate pay and the failure to receive the esteem” which they believed they deserved (Moody, 1978, p. 109). Moreover, their teaching ranks were continually “being renewed, for sons rarely followed their fathers’ career – which suggests that
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the teachers were not satisfied with their lot” (p. 109). Zeldin (1977, p. 265) also suggests that “many teachers self-confessedly became teachers in order to get their own back for the humiliations they had suffered as pupils.” This, he argues, was a significant reason for the strong presence of a school “routine” centered on the highly authoritarian practices of teachers (p. 265). Indeed, while “teachers’ ideal was to be monarchs of their classes” (pp. 312, 313) there was an “inferiority complex that lay behind the severity” along with a “self-denigration into which teachers lapsed intermittently.” Not surprisingly, the marginal status and experiences of teachers were sources of discontent and frustration for many individuals (it should be noted that in the Third Republic certain male secondary teachers achieved very high status (Thibaudet, 1927), however, our concerns in the present study are with the overall condition of most teachers and not the experiences of a more select minority). These findings also have several implications for and raise a number of questions about research examining social interaction (especially between teachers and students), organizations, and educational institutions. One set of questions concerns whether and how the marginalized status of teachers may have influenced their relations with students in the classroom? A likely interpretation is that the classroom was the setting where teachers came the closest to having a clearly defined (i.e. nonmarginal) position of authority and expertise. Here, from the point of view of the teacher, was a world which fitted his definition of reality or, more precisely, the reality he aspired to, that of being a member of an intellectual elite with substantial influence and esteem (in reality many students probably did not see their teachers only in these terms). Such a setting must have provided an important social anchor for these individuals or, to modify a concept discussed by Berger and Luckmann (1967, pp. 126, 127), a primary “subsociety” with its corresponding subuniverse of meaning. In this subsociety the teacher was most likely motivated, or at least inclined, to engage to the fullest in those practices which expressed and amplified these ideas and beliefs, i.e. those symbolic meanings which defined the teacher as a member of an elite possessing special status and authority. Briefly stated, the most common activities involving teachers and students included ritualized authoritarian practices, hierarchical relations, extreme manifestations of social distance, formalized relations, overt forms of discipline (nonphysical), and routinized displays of power through ridicule, punishments, etc. These were many of the most dominant ritualized practices engaged in by teachers in the classroom (Van de Poel-Knottnerus & Knottnerus, 1992, 1993). It is quite likely that the predicament of teachers only served to accentuate these activities, practices which were already defined as appropriate according to the commonly accepted cultural beliefs of the era concerning French educational methods.6
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This study also raises questions concerning the functioning of total institutions (Goffman, 1961) which these schools were extreme instances of (Van de Poel-Knottnerus & Knottnerus, 1993). Because teachers were members of the staff and authority structure yet were also implicated in the processes directed at residents, i.e. students, a simple staff versus resident distinction (usually found in discussions of total institutions) does not fully describe the equivocal role of teachers in these organizations. For this reason we suggest that a distinction be made between “primary” and “secondary” staff. The former refers to staff who exercise power but are not directly implicated in these processes (e.g. administrators in the lyc´ees) while the latter denotes those who both administer and are the objects of these procedures (e.g. teachers in the lyc´ees). Finally, it may be asked how these teachers compare to others like them in other societal contexts and in other eras? The historical case study conducted here would contribute to comparative analyses of teachers and the social dynamics of school systems, especially those found in elite educational institutions. Indeed, the multidimensional analysis of this group, focusing upon various aspects of their work experience, their class, status, and power positions and roles as well as their social emotional and interactional features, would contribute to investigations of marginality in both educational and noneducational settings. This is especially relevant since historical examinations of this phenomenon have been quite limited (for an exception see Weisberger, 1992). In conclusion, this study has examined diverse forms of evidence in its analysis of teachers in the elite secondary educational system of early modern France. In this particular system we find teachers caught in a fundamental social dilemma created by the institution in which they worked and the French society of which they were members. Theirs was the plight of the marginal actor, trapped between different segments of society, subject to the contradictions created by both power and powerlessness and distinction and exclusion.
NOTES 1. A complete list of references are available upon request. 2. The pronoun “he” is used as a convenience and refers to both male and female teachers. Women began teaching in the latter part of the nineteenth century and constituted a minority of the teaching population. 3. Not surprisingly, some students complained about the absurdity of the subjects they must discuss, whether in Latin or Greek (Vall`es, 1958, p. 254): The other day we were supposed to work on the following topic: ‘Themistocles haranguing the Greeks.’ I did not find anything, nothing, nothing! . . . What am I going to say? ‘Put yourself in
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Themistocles’ place.’ They always tell me that one is supposed to put himself in the place of this one, that one – With a cut on the nose like Zopyre? With the wrist roasted like Scevola? It’s always about generals, kings queens! But I am only fourteen years old. I do not know what I am supposed to have Annibal say, or Caracalla or Torquatus! No, I do not know it! I am looking in the adverbs, and the adjectives of the ‘Gradus’ and all I am doing is copying what I find in ‘the Alexander.’
4. The worship of this author is also revealed in the passionate words of A. France (1924, p. 330): O sweet and great Racine! the best, the dearest of all poets! . . . You now are my love and my joy, all my contentment and my dearest delights . . . Corneille, compared to you is no more than a declaimor, and I do not know if Moli`ere is as truthful as you, o sovereign master, in whom resides all truth and all beauty!
5. Sometimes, however, foreign languages were taught by native speakers. Pagnol benefited from his teacher (1977, p. 164): “. . . he was a real British, which was confirmed to me by the fact that he spoke French with an accent that wasn’t ours.” One of Ajalbert’s teachers, who was also British, was very rigid when it came to the pronunciation of his language (1938, p. 43): “Oh! the ‘th’. One had to go to his desk, where, with his pencil, he had us maneuver the tongue between the teeth.” 6. While not the object of this study an important question is what effect did the institution and behavior of teachers have on their students? We suggest that the former had a profound effect on youth leading to the reproduction of similar practices and social structures in their informal youth world (Van de Poel-Knottnerus & Knottnerus, 1992). Further confirmation for this thesis is found in Zeldin’s (1977, p. 306) observation concerning the effects of the teachers’ professional status hierarchy on students: “There was a class struggle within the teaching profession itself. The pupils were well aware of it and reproduced their quarrels in the playground.” A combination of factors accentuating the impact of ritualized practices engaged in by teachers and students, it is argued, accounts for this process (Knottnerus, 1994, 1995).
ACKNOWLEDGMENT An earlier version of this paper was presented at the 88th annual meeting of the American Sociological Association, Miami Beach, 1993.
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Martin du Gard, R. (1955). Oeuvres compl`etes. Paris: Librairie Gallimard, collection “Biblioth`eque de la Pl´eiade”. Mayeur, F. (1981). Histoire g´en´erale de l’enseignement et de l’´education en France, de la R´evolution a` l’Ecole r´epublicaine (Vol. 3). Paris: Nouvelle Librairie de France. Moody, J. N. (1978). French education since Napoleon. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press. Padberg, J. W. (1969). Colleges in controversy: The Jesuit schools in France from revival to suppression, 1815–1880. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Pagnol, M. (1928). Topaze. Paris: Presses Pocket. Pagnol, M. (1977). Oeuvres compl`etes de Marcel Pagnol. Le temps des secrets. Paris: Aux e´ ditions du Club de l’Honn`ate Homme. Park, R. (1967). On social control and collective behavior. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. Pitts, J. R. (1963). Continuity and change in bourgeois France. In: S. Hoffman, C. P. Kindleberger, L. Wylie, J. R. Pitts, J.-B. Duroselle & J.-F. Goguel (Eds), In Search of France (pp. 235–304). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Prost, A. (1968). Histoire de l’enseignement en France, 1800–1967. Paris: Librairie Armand Colin. Sartre, J.-P. (1945). L’ˆage de raison. In: Les Chemins de la Libert´e (Vol. 1). Paris: Gallimard. Simmel, G. (1971). On individuality and social forms. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Smith, R. J. (1982). The ecole normale sup´erieure and the third republic. Albany: State University of New York Press. Taine, H. A. (1894). The modern regime. Trans. J. Durand. New York: Henry Holt & Company. Talbott, J. E. (1969). The politics of educational reform in France, 1918–1940. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Thibaudet, A. (1927). La r´epublique des professeurs. Paris: Bernard Grasset. Vall`es, J. ([1879] 1958). Jacques Vingtras, l’enfant. Paris: Les Editeurs Francais R´eunis. Van de Poel-Knottnerus, F. (1992). The role of sport, physical education and hygiene in the lyc´ees and coll`eges of early modern France. Canadian Journal of History of Sport, 23, 19–31. Van de Poel-Knottnerus, F., & Knottnerus, J. D. (1992). Youth society in early modern France: A literary and social historical analysis of the world of secondary schoolchildren. Sociological Inquiry, 62, 397–412. Van de Poel-Knottnerus, F., & Knottnerus, J. D. (1993). Secondary education in early modern France: An analysis of an elite school system from a total institution perspective. Humboldt Journal of Social Relations, 19, 131–157. Van de Poel-Knottnerus, F., & Knottnerus, J. D. (1994). Social life through literature: A suggested strategy for conducting a literary ethnography. Sociological Focus, 27, 67–80. Vincent, G. (1966). Les professeurs de l’enseignement secondaire dans la soci´et´e de la Belle Epoque. Revue D’Histoire Moderne et Contemporaine, 13, 49–86. Vincent, G. (1969). Les professeurs du second degr´e au d´ebut du XXe si`ecle, essai sur la mobilit´e sociale et la mobilit´e g´eographique. Mouvement Social, 69, 124–127. Wakeford, J. (1969). The cloistered elite: A sociological analysis of the English public boarding school. London: Macmillan. Weisberger, A. (1992). Marginality and its directions. Sociological Forum, 7, 425–446. Wylie, L. (1957). Village in the Vaucluse. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Zeldin, T. (1973). France 1848–1945: Ambition, love and politics (Vol. 1). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zeldin, T. (1977). France 1848–1945: Intellect, taste and anxiety (Vol. 2). Oxford: Oxford University Press.
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WILLIAM J. WILSON’S “GHETTO-RELATED BEHAVIORS,” VALUES AND POVERTY: A TEST Martha A. Jacob ABSTRACT In this study I seek to determine a relationship among stated values, behaviors and economic status to test William J. Wilson’s statement that persons in the ghetto hold the same values as all Americans (a belief in hard work, education, etc.) but, because of their situation (assumed for this research to be one of poverty), don’t live up to them, often displaying “ghetto-related behaviors” (jail or detention time, belonging to a gang, being on welfare, etc.). Using data from Wilson’s “Urban Poverty & Family Life Survey of Chicago, 1987,” the same data he used to make his statement about and determinations of “ghettorelated behaviors,” I look for relationships among a set of variables indexed as “American values,” “deviance” or “ghetto-related behaviors” and income level (whether or not an individual is in poverty). The findings are significant with regard to the effect of values on deviance. The data seem to suggest that values do impact whether or not an individual engages in deviance or Wilson’s “ghetto-related behaviors,” regardless of the individual’s economic status.
Marginality, Power, and Social Structure: Issues in Race, Class, and Gender Research in Race and Ethnic Relations, Volume 12, 253–272 Copyright © 2005 by Elsevier Ltd. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0195-7449/doi:10.1016/S0195-7449(04)12012-6
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INTRODUCTION The last two decades in America have seen an increasing emphasis on personal responsibility and laissez faire governmental policies that tend to “blame the victims” of social inequalities (see Mead, 1998, for an interesting twist on current U.S. government paternalism vis-`a-vis the enforcement of values at the expense of “American values”). Instead of finding fault with structural and institutional injustices that hold certain individuals and segments of American society in poverty, social welfare policymakers are harkening back to such theorists as Edward Banfield and his suggestion that “the American urban class (is) trapped by a culture that inhibit(s) advancement and perpetuate(s) pathology” (in Katz, 1989, p. 30). To Banfield and his ilk, “culture,” not “structure,” keeps America’s poor poor. There is no doubt that William J. Wilson, in his thoughtful 1997 study of inner city poverty in the mostly black ghettoes of Chicago, When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor, believes quite differently. To Wilson long lasting, stubborn systematic “structures” are the main reasons residents of the ghetto remain jobless, hopeless and forgotten by the rest of society. As he states: “To understand the new urban poverty, one has to account for the ways in which segregation interacts with other changes in society to produce the recent escalating rates of joblessness and problems of social organization in inner-city neighborhoods” (Wilson, p. 24). Yet, even Wilson seems to feel that “(g)hetto-related behavior and attitudes often reinforce the economic marginality of the residents of jobless ghettos” (Wilson, p. 52). Wilson claims that this “economic marginality,” while not “unrelated to the broader structure of opportunities and constraints that have evolved over time” is exacerbated by the “social action – including behavior, habits, skills, styles, orientations, attitudes” that the residents of inner city ghettos take (Wilson, p. 55). Yet in practically the same breath, Wilson also claims that “(d)espite the overwhelming poverty, black residents in inner-city ghetto neighborhoods verbally reinforce, rather than undermine, the basic American values pertaining to individual initiative” (p. 67). It’s just that “many who subscribe to these values will, in the final analysis, find it difficult to live up to them” (p. 67). In other words, while residents in Wilson’s survey sample purported to hold values reflective of “American” values (possibly hard work, honesty, family stability), in the end, due to the fact of the ghetto and the culture they lived in, they simply couldn’t maintain them. Certainly some theorists and researchers have held that enduring poverty is anathema to a person’s ability to live what most would consider a “normal” life. Simpson and Yinger (1972) describe Rodman’s concept of “value stretch” as follows: “(t)he lower-class person develops an alternative set of values to deal
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with his difficult situation ‘without abandoning the general values of the society’ ” (p. 174). More recent research (DuRant et al., 1995; Kaljee et al., 1995) suggests that there is a positive association between poverty and violence, however, this association does not appear to be related to family structure or “culture.”1 Plotnick and Hoffman (1999) suggest that although tested models that control for only observed family background show neighborhood effects (germane here if one equates neighborhoods with “cultures”) such as those found by Wilson, fixedeffect models reveal no statistically significant effects, thereby not concurring with Wilson. Plotnick and Hoffman warn against accepting significant neighborhood effects that are from models that do not account for the possible selection of neighborhood. Cherry (1995) nests Myrdal’s assessment of pathological behavior among blacks in America in similar early 20th century theories about European immigrants, suggesting perhaps that it’s the outside “assessment” that stereotypes groups of people not in the mainstream, not the groups’ actual manifestations of “culture.” Corcoran (1995) also carries culture of poverty theories through the 20th century, and then summarizes research that looks at ways to explain “intergenerational poverty”: the resources model, the correlated disadvantages model, the welfare culture model, and Wilson’s underclass model. But are Wilson’s “ghetto-related behaviors” truly outgrowths of the culture (of poverty) the residents find themselves in, or is it possible, like anywhere else in any neighborhood or “culture,” values in the ghetto vary as do instances and rates of criminal behavior (seen here as the aforementioned “ghetto-related” behaviors)?2 Given these variances, if most of the residents of inner city ghettoes indeed live up to the “basic American values,” then a pronouncement of belief in so-called “American” values might correlate with non-involvement in criminal or “ghetto-related” behavior, whereas a lack of such stated beliefs could correlate with involvement in criminal or “ghetto-related” behavior. Could it not be hypothesized that those who responded to Wilson’s questions about “American values” who professed to hold these same values (initiative, hard work, not receiving something for nothing, i.e. having to work to receive welfare, a sense of morality), were not the same individuals who displayed “ghetto-related” behaviors (belonging to a gang, being in jail or other such activities)? This test of Wilson’s data seeks to uncover just such a relationship. However, before continuing, it must be pointed out that the inverse could also be true or that values and behavior have no relationship, that often people say they believe a certain behavior is appropriate because of their own certain value system, but then they do not “do as they say.” Mills (1959) quotes Parsons on values: “The institutionalization of a set of roleexpectations and of the corresponding sanctions is clearly a matter of degree. This
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degree is a function of two sets of variables; on the one hand those affecting the actual sharedness of the value-orientation patterns, on the other those determining the motivational orientation or commitment to the fulfillment of the relevant expectations” (p. 28). Whether values are shared or not, motivation and sense of ethics play roles in an individual actor’s decision to behave in a particular way. Then, too, there is the question of timing and the confounding effects timing can have on establishing cause and effect. As Merton (1957) notes: “(It) is at present often impossible to determine whether cultural values are consistent or inconsistent, in advance of the actual social situations in which these values are implicated . . . (a)bstract cultural synthesis which seeks to reconstruct the ‘underlying unity of outlook’ may thus lead to false inferences” (pp. 501, 502). However, this test of Wilson’s statement that people in the ghetto profess to hold “American values” but cannot live up to them does not seek to lay groundwork for a claim that stated values lead to certain behaviors. It is merely a test of Wilson’s own data, seeking to verify (or not) his assertions. Using Wilson’s own data from his “Urban Poverty & Family Life Survey of Chicago 1987,” the same survey that he used for the data cited in When Work Disappears, this study tests Wilson’s aforementioned statement by looking for any relationship between stated values and “ghetto-related behaviors.” Whereas it might be inferred from Wilson that a higher proportion of people who live in poverty engage in “ghetto-related behaviors” than those who aren’t in poverty3 – whether they hold “American” values or not – this “test” of Wilson’s assertion does not so much infer proportionality as it suggests that his claim is unsubstantiated. In other words, does Wilson’s data actually show that survey respondents in his sample who profess to hold the same values as all Americans find it impossible to live up to them? Do values have little effect on behaviors when they are held by persons in poverty, or do behaviors and poverty and values have any relationship at all? Is it possible that there was variance in the effects of stated values and behavior for the individuals surveyed by Wilson, and that poverty’s effect on “deviant” behavior (if there is indeed a relationship between poverty and such behavior) was mitigated by whether or not an individual held values in opposition to these behaviors? The figures suggest the predicted results expected if “Values,” and not economic status or poverty (as per “Wilson’s Model,”), are possible “determinants” of “deviant” behavior of individuals in Wilson’s sample (Figs 1 and 2). Using as the dependent variable an index of “deviance” to stand for Wilson’s “ghetto-related behaviors” (those behaviors – not necessarily “criminal” – that residents of the ghetto supposedly exhibit that separate them from other members of the American society, even though most members supposedly state and hold the same “values”), this study tested whether or not various sociologically standard independent variables (such as sex, race, education and income – in this case
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Fig. 1. Expected Level of Deviance Under “Values” Model.
Fig. 2. Expected Level of Deviance Under Wilson’s Model.
operationalized as being in poverty or not, among others) affect the rate of deviance, depending on whether or not a respondent to Wilson’s survey expressed a proclivity to hold certain “American values.” Included in the ordinary least squares (OLS) standard regression analyses are independent variables that measure anomie (to address any challenges that the hopelessness of relentless poverty might confound the effects of both poverty or “values”) and immigration, as Wilson’s sample had an over-representation of immigrants and this study purports to test something called “American” values.
METHODS Wilson’s 1987 Urban Poverty and Family Life Study surveyed 2,490 residents of two Chicago poverty census tracts. Of these 2,490 respondents, 1,183 (47%)
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were black, 364 (15%) were nonHispanic white, 489 (20%) were Mexican and 454 (18%) were Puerto Rican; also, 918 (37%) were male and 1,572 (63%) were female. For the purposes of this study, the income indicator divided Wilson’s sample into one of two categories: in poverty or not in poverty. Of the 2,356 respondents who answered the income question, 1,268 (54%) were not in poverty according to 1987 poverty thresholds, and 1,088 (46%) were in poverty. In the data analysis conducted for this test, correlations among variables indexed as “American values” and “ghetto-related behaviors” were analyzed first. The analysis included initial correlation matrices, a factor analysis and cross tabulations to look for preliminary relationships to identify variables for the “values” and “ghetto-related behaviors” or “deviance” scales and additional independent variables to include in the regression analyses.4 The variables used to construct the “American values” index (the variable for this was called “allvalue”) were taken from questions which asked survey respondents about: (1) What helps people get ahead in life (education or hard work); (2) whether or not they believe a person has the right to receive welfare without working for the benefit; and (3) their views on pre-marital sex (operationalized as whether or not it is acceptable for a youth under the age of 16 to have sex). The variables included in this index were chosen to loosely correspond with Wilson’s own take on “American values” arising from the 1988 Family Support Act: (there is) a sort of mysterious ‘welfare ethos’ . . . that encourages public assistance recipients to avoid their obligations as citizens to be educated, to work, to support their families, and to obey the law. In other words – and in keeping with the dominant American belief system – ‘it is the moral fabric of individuals, not the social and economic structure of society, that is taken to be the root of the problem’ (Wilson, 1997, p. 164).
Therefore, the answers regarding “education” and “plain hard work” to the survey question that asked “How important do you think each of the following is in helping people get ahead – would you say very important, somewhat important or not important” were made into dummy variables that reflected value judgments of “important” (coded 1) or “not important” (coded 0). The survey question that read “Some say that people should not receive public aid unless they work for it. Others say people have a right to receive aid without working. Which of these is closest to what you think?” was re-coded into a dummy variable coded “1” if the respondent thought it was not acceptable for someone to receive aid without working and “0” if the respondent thought an individual could receive aid without working. The survey questions that asked “In general, would you say you approve, or disapprove of a 16 year old male (female) having sex with someone he/she is not married to?” were recoded into dummy variables coded 1 if the respondent did not think it was acceptable for a teen under the
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age of 16 to have premarital sex (answer “disapprove”) and 0 if the respondent thought it was acceptable (“approve”). If respondents did not choose to commit to an “approval” rating, their responses of “neither approve nor disapprove” were omitted from consideration.5 These two variables were further collapsed into one dummy variable (“moral”) coded 1 if the respondent did not approve of premarital sex for a teenager and 0 if the respondent approved. The variables identified as typifying “ghetto-related behaviors” came from questions Wilson asked about involvement in gangs, time spent in jail or other detention facilities, and whether or not the respondent had ever received welfare (again, referring back to Wilson’s description of the “American belief system” as taken from the current environment of personal and family responsibility). Three different dummy variables were again assigned for ever being in jail or in detention, in a gang, or on welfare at any time in the past. These were then put into a “scale of deviance” which had four possible categories: zero instances of deviance, one instance of deviance, two instances of deviance, and three instances of deviance (“instances” refers to the fact of ever being in jail, in a gang or on welfare, not to the number of times the respondent could answer positively to engaging in any of these “deviant behaviors”). To determine a respondent’s economic status (i.e. whether or not he or she was in poverty), household membership numbers were correlated with poverty levels for 1987 (the year of Wilson’s survey) as set by the federal government. In other words, if a person was in a household of one and had an annual income (self-reported) of under $5,500, then this person was coded as being in poverty; in the event a person was in a household of two with an annual household income under $7,400, he or she was coded as being in poverty (and so on).6 The dummy variable for “poverty” was thus coded 1 if the respondent was in poverty and 0 if not. Table 1 in the Appendix provides a list of variables used in the regression analyses which tested the effects of poverty and values on “deviant” or “ghetto-related” behaviors, controlling for race, sex, age, immigration status7 and whether or not a respondent was “anomic.” Because hopelessness is often correlated with poverty, a discussion of the suspected confounding effect of variables8 that might be termed “anomic” in these regressions follows (Table 2). Merton (1957) talks about the “strain” which is produced via a social structure that promotes competition. This strain, he goes on to say, leads to “anomie and deviant behavior,” a “situation in which calculations of personal advantage and fear of punishment are the only regulating agencies” (p. 157). Because anomie has often been linked to both deviant behavior (in the case of this research, then, “ghetto-related behaviors”) and poverty, either as a cause or an effect, this study needed to consider anomie’s role as an intervening variable which might possibly confound the effects produced by regressions.
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To control for the effect and/or causal aspects of anomie, this research specifically concentrated on any information revealed in Wilson’s data that could relate to Leo Srole’s Scale of Anomie – the set of five questions he devised to measure anomie, defined as an individual’s immersion in “normlessness” (Merton, 1957, p. 135). These questions are: In spite of what some people say, the lot of the average man is getting worse. It’s hardly fair to bring children into the world with the way things look for the future. Nowadays a person has to live pretty much for today and let tomorrow take care of itself. These days a person doesn’t really know who he can count on. There’s little use writing to public officials because they aren’t really interested in the problems of the average man (Babbie, 1998, pp. 125, 126). Chamlin and Cochran (1995) find support for the hypothesis that deviant behavior culminating in property crime is reflective of poverty situations wherein noneconomic institutions are weak with respect to support of the individual. This would seem to support Wilson’s ideas that poverty causes such support systems to fall apart (and I would not argue with this). But the introduction of anomie as opposed to Wilson’s more basic claim that no social support systems lead to no structural base for fighting deviant behavior is interesting. Menard (1995) tests Merton’s theory of anomie and deviant behavior and their relationship to socialstructure and cultural patterns and concludes there is no significant relationship among structure, class, anomie and deviant behavior. In Wilson’s data, several questions were seen as providing an anomic effect. These centered on information gathered about a respondent’s views of the future with regard to his or her children, neighborhood and the prospects of his or her own future (indicated here by the respondent’s hope for homeownership sometime in the future – the ultimate American dream). These variables were distilled into one indexed variable named “anomie” by the following process. The survey question that asked “As things look to you today, what are the chances you will own your own home within the next ten years? Would you say very likely, somewhat likely, rather unlikely, or very unlikely?” was made into a dummy variable coded 1 if likely and 0 if unlikely (collapsing the two choices for likely into one and the two choices for unlikely into one). The question that asked “Overall, where do you see this neighborhood going in the future – do you think it will get a lot better, somewhat better, stay about the same, get somewhat worse or a lot worse?” was collapsed into a dummy variable coded 1 for “better” and 0 for “worse” (the answer “stay about the same” was thrown out). The survey question “In terms of making a living, do you think the life of your children will
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be better, worse, or about the same as your life?” was recoded into a dummy with 1 being better and 0 being worse (again, the answer “about the same” was thrown out). These three variables were then made into an indexed variable “anomie.” This allowed anomie to be included in the regression analyses as an independent variable and held constant to negate any confounding results (and to, of course, see if it had any effect). The remaining independent variables used for the regression analyses were dummy variables for gender (“female,” coded 1 if female, 2 if male) and race (“white” for whites, “black” for blacks, “mexican” for Mexicans and “puertori” for Puerto Ricans), a dummy variable for immigrant status “immigran”(coded 1 if respondent was an immigrant and 0 if not), and continuous variables for age and highest level of education achieved.
FINDINGS The preliminary data analysis conducted for this paper involved running simple frequencies and cross tabulations to determine possible relationships among the variables discussed in the above sections. The frequencies that were especially germane to the topic of this research were those on the variables that constitute the values that Wilson claims most people in the ghetto believe in, but simply cannot live up to. And indeed, as Wilson states, the majority of residents in the ghettoes of Chicago that Wilson studied say they believe in values that most Americans hold dear in the race to achieve the American dream. Overall 94.1% of individuals in Wilson’s survey said that an education is very important in getting ahead in America and another 95% thought it either very important or somewhat important to work hard in order to get ahead. Language ability was also seen as being important in getting ahead in life, with approximately 93% of respondents saying it is very or somewhat important. Other factors listed as possibly being important in getting ahead, such things as one’s race, sex, or neighborhood had more varied responses, with the majority seeing race and neighborhood as being either very or somewhat important, but only half seeing one’s sex as being important in getting ahead. Luck, having money and knowing the right people also had more variance to the frequencies reported.9 In the last 20 years, the United States has been moving forward with welfare reform programs to lessen the numbers of persons who receive aid. As a result, we enter the 21st Century with a renewed emphasis on “personal responsibility,” requiring persons who receive public aid grants to find work within a certain period of time. New restrictions also place a lifetime limit of five years for receiving benefits. Work is not only seen as a more viable option than being on welfare
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(due to a sense of taking care of oneself and one’s own), it’s mandatory (the issue of whether or not viable jobs exist for persons on welfare is another paper). But because Wilson’s survey was conducted nearly 17 years ago before the current changes went into effect, it might surprise some proponents of these changes that, according to Wilson’s data, the proportions of people who at that time thought it was either very important or somewhat important to work hard to get ahead are nearly the same for both categories of those who have received a public aid grant and those who have never received public aid (94.9 and 96.2% respectively). It’s also interesting to note that despite the fact that Wilson’s sample lived in two poverty census tracts, of the 2,490 respondents to Wilson’s survey, 1194 or 48% reported never receiving a public aid grant, while 1,282 (52%) said they had at some time received public aid. Another interesting finding from the Wilson’s data is that of the 2,353 respondents answering the question about whether or not they had ever been in a gang, the percentage of gang membership (5% yes) was the same whether the person was in poverty or not (although the incidence of detention or jail was higher – 10% yes, the percentages held for poverty or not here, too). Finally, because this research focused on poverty and values, it was important to run some preliminary tests on the relationship of income to values. When testing to see if income and the variable “important to get ahead hard work” are independent of each other, the following results emerged: no matter what the household income level of a respondent (household income for this analysis was simply that reported by the respondent, not the poverty status constructed for this research), from 93–98% of respondents in each level reported that it is either very important or somewhat important to work hard. Although the reports of “very important” increase slightly with income, there are still relatively balanced percentages of all three responses in each income level. All of the above preliminary tests give credence to Wilson’s claim that all people in his survey sample reported that they held the same values as “mainstream” America. They also seem to show that the residents of the Chicago’s ghettoes in Wilson’s study were a diverse population who shared similar values, but different economic statuses and life experiences. What remained was to look for relationships and associations among variables which denoted illicit behaviors that Wilson calls “ghetto-related” and “American” values and the diverse population who displayed either, both, neither or any combination therein. The following table contains regressions that were run to test Wilson’s assertion that people in the ghetto express the same values as all Americans, but can’t live up to them. As is evident from the table, values do seem to make a difference (again, given the caveat that the timing and process of establishing value systems cannot be verified).
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Coefficients of Regression Equations Predicting “Deviance” In: W. J. Wilson’s “Urban Poverty & Family Life Survey of Chicago 1987” Sample.
Model 1 Allvalue
Model 2
Model 3
Model 4
Model 5
0.3603** (13.585)
−1.876** (−8.393) 0.3149** (11.210)
−0.0986** (−4.297) 0.2544** (8.729)
1.201** (15.764)
−0.0001 (−0.002) −0.1257* (−3.067) 0.0894 (1.679) −0.4410** (−7.456) −0.2236** (−4.261) 0.0560* (1.992) −0.0349** (−6.357) −0.0013 (−0.682) 1.4662** (12.468)
−0.0783* (−2.651) 0.4076* (2.841) −0.0479 (−1.091) −0.0012 (−0.041) −0.1271* (−3.099) 0.0890 (1.672) −0.4395** (−7.429) −0.2216** (−4.221) 0.0607* (2.015) −0.0348** (−6.345) −0.0013 (−0.648 1.0737** (10.072)
2026 0.1800
2026 0.1801
−0.2220** (−10.032)
Poverty Allpov Female Whitea Puertori Mexican Immigran Anomie Highgrad Age Constant N Adjusted R2
1.4529** (20.039)
0.5714** (31.730)
2199 0.0434
2351 0.0728
2090 0.0978
Note: The t ratios are in parentheses. a Black is the omitted racial category. ∗ p < 0.05. ∗∗ p < 0.01.
The first two bivariate regressions show statistically significant effects for the value scale and for poverty. The coefficient for values (“Allvalue”) can be interpreted as follows: for every value held (from 1–4), the incidence of deviance decreases by 0.22, and this decrease is statistically significant. The coefficient for poverty shows a significant increase in the incidence of deviance (but again, remember “deviance” in this test includes being on welfare and because it has already been established through frequencies that most people in Wilson’s sample were not in gangs or in jail in the past, it could probably be safely speculated that the effect of poverty is statistically significant due to the high incidence of welfare receipt in this particular sample).
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The remaining OLS regression models test the effects of values and poverty on deviance, controlling for race, gender, immigrant status, anomie, level of education and age. While the effects of values and poverty remain either very statistically significant at the 0.01 level or significant at the 0.05 level, other variables also have statistically significant effects. Being an immigrant decreases a respondent’s instances of “deviant” behaviors, as does being female and higher levels of education and age (when holding all other variables constant). Being white decreases the instances of deviance when compared to being black, and being Mexican significantly decreases the incidences of deviance. The interaction term “Allpov” was constructed and included in an analysis to see if effects of values on deviance were mitigated by poverty. As is shown, the coefficient for “Allpov” is negative, suggesting that there is an interaction of poverty and values on deviant behavior that calls into question Wilson’s assertion that “because of their situation” people in the ghetto may state that they hold the same values as everyone else, but they cannot live up to them (and, therefore, engage in “ghetto-related behaviors”). In fact, for Wilson’s sample, values seem to have a negative effect on deviance, and this effect is perhaps stronger among persons in poverty than those not in poverty (though not statistically significant).
DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION Maxwell (1996), feeling that culture of poverty theories defeat the implementation of appropriate public welfare policy, attempts to define poverty objectively to better equip social welfare policy reform to address human rights issues. Gans (1994) looks at society’s subjective take on poverty and its denizens, suggesting that such a perspective serves to promote the interests of those who are not poor, leading to poverty’s persistence. As Wilson (1997) correctly points out the disappearance of work and the accompanying difficulties (lack of transportation, insufficient job training programs, etc.) are, on the surface, certainly why residents of the ghetto are poor. However, it is not through any fault of the residents that these conditions stay in place. There are systematic causes for the persistence of inner city poverty as crystalized in the ghettoes that have nothing to do with the actual state of the residents’ income. Before a summation of the findings of this study, there is a question of race in Wilson’s depiction of “ghetto-related behaviors” that needs to be addressed. It is fair to say that in modern day America, when one thinks of “ghettoes” one thinks of blacks. When Wilson refers to “ghetto-related behaviors,” he might as well be referring to behaviors characteristic of poor blacks and only poor blacks,
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which he is in fact doing, while claiming to do just the opposite. As he says in When Work Disappears: “the issue of race in the labor market cannot simply be reduced to the presence of discrimination . . . the . . . problems are seen in a complex web of interrelated factors, including those that are race-neutral.” Yet in nearly the same breath, he goes on to say: “(inner-city black males) attitudes and actions, combined with erratic work histories in high-turnover jobs, create the widely shared perception that they are undesirable workers” (Wilson, 1997, p. 144). These “attitudes and actions” which he lumps in with his ghetto-related behaviors are here defining inner-city black males in a discussion about their inability to find and hold jobs – one paragraph away from stating that these many factors that keep black males out of the labor market are “race-neutral.” It would seem that contrary to negating the component of race in these behaviors, Wilson has given it a color. In trying to say that anyone in the circumstances inner-city black males face in trying to find employment might display “bitter and resentful” behavior, he seems to suggest that it is only race that molds these traits. In trying to downplay race and the resultant discrimination that is bound to follow, he has given them both steam. Numerous sociologists have called into question the notion that race is no longer an issue. Feagin (1991) concludes the following from the research gleaned from his interviews with black middle-class Americans on their experiences with discrimination in public places such as restaurants, streets, etc.: “I have examined the sites of discrimination, the types of discriminatory acts, and the responses of the victims and have found the color stigma still to be very important in the public lives of affluent black Americans” (p. 114). In reaction to the same kinds of perspectives that Wilson holds with regard to the “declining significance of race,” Grusky (1993) takes Feagin one step further: “for example, when the nowfamous Scientific American studies . . . revealed that overt forms of racial and ethnic prejudice were withering away, the dominant reaction within the discipline was to ask whether such apparent change concealed the emergence of more subtle and insidious forms of symbolic racism” (p. 26). With the advent of the fall of affirmative action policies,10 there has been considerable dialogue about the role of race in public policy. It might be speculated that Wilson’s idea of ghetto-related behaviors could provide ammunition for conservatives and other such minded policymakers to correlate race with behavior and set the strides made by affirmative action policies back 30 years. Recently, a cadre of academics and social activists banded together to look at the current trends in “neoliberalism” which seek to, in fact, make race a non-issue. In the introduction to the collection of essays, editor Reed (1999) states: “Although this neoliberalism often includes support, or at least acceptance, of conventionally liberal stances on such ‘social issues’ as abortion rights, gay rights, environmental protection,
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or even drug legalization, it retreats from downwardly redistributive social welfare policy, a disposition characteristically justified with a rhetoric stressing fiscal constraint, realpolitik, and the need to direct public policy toward encouraging personal responsibility or ‘choice’ . . . the authors . . . challenge the new orthodoxy’s general features and provide an alternative account of the ways that racial stratification is built into the texture of American political life and public policy, including the New Deal coalition romanticized by many proponents of the New Liberalism as a race-transcendent, harmonious formation” (pp. 2, 6).
One might infer from this that given the current political environment of personal responsibility and a retreat of liberals from holding the government responsible for social equality, any modern connection among race, poverty and behavior is certain to coalesce into a neo-modern “culture of poverty” theory. Given the dangers of such a theory (i.e. blaming the victim, and, since, in this instance, the victim is black, any strides made in American race relations could be set back), it might have been prudent for Wilson not to have underplayed the role racism has played in the ghettoization of some American blacks. Or as Omi and Winant (1994) put it: “In the U.S., race is present in every institution, every relationship, every individual” (p. 158). (Note: Although he underplayed racism, Wilson certainly understood the nature of structure, power situations, disadvantage and crime. Krivo and Peterson (1996) studied the 1990 census and crime data for Columbus, Ohio, looking at Wilson’s claim that disadvantageous structural elements of ghetto life are related to accompanying high crime rates, and concurred with Wilson’s theory.) This research attempted to test Wilson’s claim that residents of inner-city ghettos express the same “American values” as all Americans, but, because of their situation, find it hard to live up to them. In essence, this study questioned the role of poverty in “ghetto-related behaviors” especially with regard to values. As evidenced by the results of the tests, it is not without merit to suggest that Wilson’s claim was premature, if not unjustified. Respondents to his survey (who were residents of poverty census tracts) do express the same values as most Americans, and, in fact, do, for the most part, “live up” to these values. In fact, holding values that most people would accept as representative of post-Personal Responsibility Act “American” values (the importance of a good education, the need to work hard, not receiving welfare without working for it, responsible sexual behavior) does seem to equate with a lessened incidence of “deviance” as measured by being in jail, in a gang, and/or on welfare. Then too, there is no evidence from this research that the effects of values had less influence on “deviant” behavior for those respondents in poverty. The majority of the respondents in Wilson’s survey espoused “American” values and the majority lived up to them. However, it should be reiterated that this “test” did not seek to find a relationship among values, behavior and economic status as a basis for further research into the benefits of, perhaps, instilling values where there were none to prevent undesirable
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or unacceptable behaviors. While it may be evident that values are related to a decreased incidence of “deviance” as defined by this study, it is not evident that what is at work is values being taught and held and acted upon and not other more systemic problems with ghetto life. After all, the best adjusted “R-square” obtained by the regressions run for this analysis was.18, indicating that only about 18% of the variance in deviance as defined by this study can be accounted for by the models run. Then, too, a reiteration of Merton’s caution that it is nearly impossible to determine a cause and effect relationship of values and behavior is necessary to remind the reader that no evidence from this study indicates such a causal relationship. Much more careful study must be conducted to find any possible interconnections, causal relationships or even suggestions of effect in the complicated world of poverty, deviance, values and individual behavior. This study was a mere test of Wilson’s statement about residents of the ghetto not being able to live up to their stated values. As the study showed, while many residents of the poverty tracts studied by Wilson in the late 1980s did not espouse all of these “American” values, an overwhelming majority believed in hard work and “not getting a free ride” and most – 90–95% – had never been engaged in what most people would call truly “deviant” (or criminal) behavior such as being in jail or being in a gang. Finally, as Meiklejohn (1999) states in “Has Discrimination Disappeared? A Response to William Julius Wilson”: “(Wilson’s) failure to acknowledge the complexity of the issue of poor economic outcomes among minority urban residents has allowed the publication of a text that appears to give additional authority to conservative arguments and policy prescriptions that reduce the causes and consequences of poverty to ‘the importance of values, attitudes, habits and styles in explaining the different experiences, behavior and outcomes of groups’ (Wilson, 1996, p. xviii) . . .” (p. 335).
This research, while preliminary, concurs with Meiklejohn’s assertion and leads to the conclusion that no study of poverty, deviance and values can responsibly look at the relationships among the three without looking at all the causes and repercussions of each. Further research is needed to fully understand the dynamics that underpin the complex relationships among attitudes (values), behavior and economic status. However, it is understandable that little research attempts to do just this: the concept of “values” and any impact they might have on actual behavior is just too questionable. And then there is the fact that given current trends to dismantle inner city “ghettoes” nationwide and disperse poverty (not “fix” it), any attempt to generalize the findings from studies such as this may become impossible in the not too distant future. It is clear that culture of poverty theories, however presented, have an insidious history. Given the unlikely scenario that we will eradicate poverty any time soon,
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research which responsibly attempts to call into question the pathways that link the economically marginalized with valueless behavior are necessary . . . and the only way to overcome the too often held opinion that the poor are somehow “different” than other people, devoid of values that their fellow countrymen hold so dear.11
NOTES 1. Skinner (1995) looks at culture of poverty theories with regard to unemployment rates of young black urban males. 2. This paper does not, however, proffer as Merton states, opposing such a notion to functionalism, that “various individualistic theories (hold) that different rates of deviant behavior in diverse groups and social strata are the accidental result of varying proportions of pathological personalities found in these groups and strata” (p. 121). While acknowledging that pathology might be a factor in deviant behavior in some cases, the researcher does not intend to claim that functionalism has no place; rather this researcher would probably err on the side of systematic functional pathology (i.e. functional individual reaction to systematic inequities). 3. For the purposes of this research, “poverty” is assumed to be the state Wilson refers to when he mentions the “situation” of ghetto residents. 4. A correlation matrix of variables used in the analysis is included as Table 2 in the Appendix. All other frequencies, crosstabulations and the factor analysis are available upon request from the author. 5. While this is not a desired practice and resulted in some loss of information, the “values” scale for this research was based on “classes” which distinguish between opinions, such as those which oppose “American” to “non-American” values, and an ambivalent response was not considered a “determinant” of a recognized value system. In hindsight, a series of latent class analyses would have shed more light on the appropriateness of the chosen course of action for the construction of scales for this study. 6. Remaining poverty thresholds are: a household with three persons – poverty would be below $9,300; 4, below $11,200; 5, below $13,100; 6, below $15,000; 7, below $16,900; 8, below $18,800, above 8, add increments of $1,900 for each family member above 8. Midpoints were used in some cases when Wilson’s income intervals did not exactly match 1987 poverty cut-offs. This information was taken from the Social Security Bulletin, Annual Statistical Supplement, 1999. 7. Research (see Wilson’s When Work Disappears, p. 141) has shown that immigrants tend to move in and out of poverty at faster rates than citizens; and there is also a question as to whether or not immigrants can be said to hold “American values.” Since Wilson’s choice of census poverty tracts in Chicago includes a disproportionate number of immigrants, these effects will need to be addressed. 8. See Cook and Campbell (1979, pp. 59–64, 67), for a discussion of “confounding constructs.” 9. A factor analysis revealed that patterns did exist with regard to high loadings among certain “variables” (actually “choices”) within the survey question which asked “How important do you think each of the following is in helping people get ahead? Education, Money in the family, Their race, Plain hard work, Knowing the right people, Luck,
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Neighborhood, Their sex, or Language Ability?” The choices “Education and Plain hard work” tended to more highly load together (or not so highly load together) with a variable that was constructed to represent the preference for working (even without medical insurance) to receiving public aid which brought with it medical assistance. The remaining “choices,” then, tended to load together as a possible separate variant and effect for the constructed “factors.” This was indeed the case in the tendency for respondents in this survey to equate “values” less with typical “American” values as education than with more systemic reflections of “human capital” that enhance one’s ability to “get ahead” – things like one’s race, sex, or economic situation. This does not mean, however, that the respondents in this survey did not express the same values as most Americans; as the results of this analysis shows, they did. They simply apparently also believed that other factors are also at work in attaining “the American dream.” 10. See, for instance, Bobo’s (1998) discussion of American values and affirmative action. 11. Inglehart and Baker (2000) come to the conclusion that differences in values among members of the same society, even given differing religious beliefs, are smaller than differences in values across national borders, from which one might infer that a national “value” system exists and envelopes its citizens – all of its citizens.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The author would like to thank Cedric Herring and William P. Bridges, professors of Sociology at the University of Illinois at Chicago, for their invaluable assistance and guidance in the preparation of this paper.
REFERENCES Babbie, E. (1998). The practice of social research. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth Publishing. Bobo, L. (1998, April). Race, interests, and beliefs about affirmative action: Unanswered questions and new directions. American Behavioral Scientist, 41(7), 985–1003. Chamlin, M. B., & Cochran, J. K. (1995). Assessing Messner and Rosenfeld’s institutional Anomie theory: A partial test. Criminology, 33(August), 411–429. Cherry, R. (1995). The culture-of-poverty thesis and African-Americans: The work of Gunnar Myrdal and other institutionalists. Journal of Economic Issues, 29(December), 1119–1132. Cook, T. D., & Campbell, D. T. (1979). Quasi-experimentation: Design and analysis for field settings. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Corcoran, M. (1995). Rags to rags: Poverty and mobility in the United States. Annual Review of Sociology, 21, 237–267. DuRant, R. J., Getts, A. G., & Cadenhead, C. (1995). The association between weapon-carrying and the use of violence among adolescents living in or around public housing. Journal of Adolescence, 18(October), 579–592. Feagin, J. R. (1991). The continuing significance of race: Antiblack discrimination in public places. American Sociological Review, 56(February), 101–116.
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Gans, H. J. (1994). Positive functions of the undeserving poor: Uses of the underclass in America. Politics and Society, 22(September), 269–283. Grusky, D. B. (1993). Social stratification in sociological perspective: Class, race, & gender. New York: Social Inequality Series. Inglehart, R., & Baker, W. E. (2000, February). Modernization, cultural change, and the persistence of traditional values. American Sociological Review, 65(1), 19–51. Kaljee, L. M., Stanton, B., & Ricardo, I. (1995). Urban African American adolescents and their parents: Perceptions of violence within and against their communities. Human Organization, 54(Winter), 373–382. Katz, M. B. (1989). The undeserving poor. New York: Pantheon Books. Krivo, L. J., & Peterson, R. D. (1996). Extremely disadvantaged neighborhoods and urban crime. Social Forces, 75(December), 619–648. Maxwell, A. H. (1996). Human rights and social welfare policy reform: Views from the field: A discussion. Urban Anthropology & Studies Of Cultural Systems & World Economic Development, 25(Summer), 211–219. Mead, L. M. (1998). Telling the poor what to do. Public Interest, 132(Summer), 97–112. Meiklejohn, S. T. (1999). Has discrimination disappeared? A response to William Julius Wilson. Economic Development Quarterly, 13(4), 321–338. Menard, S. (1995). A developmental test of Mertonian Anomie theory, Journal Of Research in Crime. Journal Of Research in Crime & Delinquency, 32(May), 136–174. Merton, R. K. (1957). Social theory and social structure. New York: Free Press. Mills, C. W. (1959). The sociological imagination. New York: Oxford University Press. Omi, M., & Winant, H. (1994). Racial formation in the United States from the 1960s to the 1990s. New York: Routledge. Plotnick, R. D., & Hoffman, S. D. (1999, March). The effect of neighborhood characteristics on young adult outcomes: Alternative estimates. Social Science Quarterly, 80(1), 1–18. Reed, A. Jr. (Ed.) (1999). Without justice for all: The new liberalism and our retreat from racial equality. Boulder: Westview Press. Simpson, G. E., & Yinger, J. M. (1972). Racial and cultural minorities: An analysis of prejudice and discrimination (4th ed.). New York: Harper Row. Skinner, C. (1995). Urban labor markets and young black men: A literature review. Journal of Economic Issues, 29(March), 47–65. Social Security Bulletin, Annual Statistical Supplement (1999). Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office. Wilson, G. (1996). Toward a revised framework for examining beliefs about the causes of poverty. Sociological Quarterly, 37(Summer), 413–428. Wilson, W. J. (1997). When work disappears: The world of the new urban poor.New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
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APPENDIX Table 1. List of Variables Included in the Analysis. Definitions, Means (M), Standard Deviations (SD) Where Appropriate Independent Dummy Variables (Coded 1 if situation applies; 0 if not) Poverty Whether or not respondent was in poverty at the time of the survey Female Whether or not respondent was female White Whether or not respondent was white Black Whether or not respondent was black Puertori Whether or not respondent was Puerto Rican Mexican Whether or not respondent was Mexican Immigran Whether or not respondent was an Immigrant at the time of the survey Anomie Whether or not respondent answered negatively on three survey questions relating to hopes for the future (children’s future, neighborhood’s future, and prospects for owning a home) Independent Continuous Variables Highgrad Respondent’s level of education achieved, M = 10.70, SD = 3.29 (range 0–17) Age Respondent’s age at time of survey, M = 31.98, SD = 7.10 range 18–47) Independent Scale Variable Allvalue A scale variable composed of four dummy variables coded 1 or 0 (whether or not respondent believed in the importance of hard work to get ahead, importance of education to get ahead, whether or not a teen should have sex, and whether or not it is right to get welfare without working). The Scale ran from 1–4 (for how many positive responses to values a respondent gave – no survey respondent scored “0” on the values scale) M = 3.216, SD = 0.625 Dependent Scale Variable Deviance A scale variable composed of three dummy variables for certain behaviors whether or not respondent had been in a gang, in jail or on welfare scale ran from 0 –3, with 0 being no instances of “deviance” and 3 meaning the respondent had at some time engaged in all three behaviors. M = 0.731, SD = 0.663
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Table 2. Correlation Matrix of Variables Used in Analysis.
Deviance Allvalue Poverty Female White Puertori Mexican Black Immigran Anomie Highgrad Age
Deviance
Allvalue
Poverty
Female
White
Puertori
Mexican
Black
Immigran
Anomie
Highgrad
Age
1.0000 −0.2098 0.2607 0.0774 −0.0693 0.0597 −0.2763 0.2198 −0.2086 0.0644 0.0036 −0.0898
1.0000 −0.1402 −0.0254 0.1258 0.0300 0.2223 −0.2856 0.2322 −0.0215 −0.0810 0.1746
1.0000 0.1833 −0.1565 −0.0298 −0.0039 0.1376 0.0366 0.1150 −0.2022 −0.1421
1.0000 0.0172 0.0336 −0.1067 0.0455 −0.0937 0.1187 0.0476 −0.0334
1.0000 −0.1908 −0.2017 −0.4172 −0.1817 0.0370 0.1803 0.1182
1.0000 −0.2155 −0.4457 0.4346 0.0302 −0.0913 0.0239
1.0000 −0.4713 0.5743 0.0217 −0.5347 0.0456
1.0000 −0.6423 −0.0661 0.3549 −0.1382
1.0000 0.0439 −0.5345 0.1625
1.0000 −0.0752 −0.0322
1.0000 −0.0775
1.0000
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