Mass Incarceration and "The Code of the Street"

By Laura Lee

Noticeably absent from Code of the Street is a sufficient discussion of how mass incarceration affects the kinds of communities that Elijah Anderson was examining.  In particular, chapters four and five are titled “The Mating Game” and “The Decent Daddy;” with regard to these subjects, the disproportionate numbers of black men who are incarcerated or have interacted with the criminal justice system is absolutely relevant to the role of black men in relationships and in families.

When Elijah Anderson analyzes the appeal of the street life, he discusses the attractiveness of the drug trade to these populations.  He notes that, although it is illegal, “it is the most lucrative and most accessible element of the underground economy” (111).  Not only is it a lucrative opportunity, but for many black men it may be their only economic opportunity.  Anderson notes that many young black men have trouble finding an above-ground job due to racial discrimination, and may fail to even begin the job search under this assumption and observation that they will be passed over regardless (111). In such circumstances, it may seem rational to engage in drug dealing; however, that does not make the activity any less illegal.  Even though Anderson claims that the deep-rooted connection between drugs and inner-city life is “largely tolerated by civic authorities and the police,” there is contradictory empirical evidence that black men in particular face steep consequences for such activity (111).  The War on Drugs exacerbated racial disparities in our prison systems to the point that two-thirds of all drug offenders in prison are people of color.

There is vast empirical evidence which clearly shows the direct effect of mass incarceration on black men; more subtly and indirectly, this trend also has an effect on black women.  The Economist published an article to this effect in 2010, looking at “how the mass incarceration of black men hurts black women.”  It noted that one in nine black men aged 20-29 is in jail or prison; for black women in this age range, the numbers were only one in 150.  Most people marry someone of the same race, but people behind bars can be assumed to be excluded from the dating pool, so these skewed numbers present a real challenge in the mating game.  As evidence of this fact, the article found that “as incarceration rates exploded between 1970 and 2007, the proportion of US-born black women aged 30-44 who were married plunged from 62% to 33%.”  Elijah Anderson’s analysis of the mating game in Code of the Street is compatible with the phenomenon described in this article.  Anderson discussed the social factors for low marriage rates, explaining how marrying for love is a privileged mind-set that “presupposes a job, the work ethic, and, perhaps most of all, a persistent sense of hope for an economic future” (178).  The lack of these positive factors is directly related to the expansion of the drug culture and the uncertainty of drug dealing as a form of income, which is far less conducive to sustaining a family compared to traditional employment.  We can see that not only is incarceration affecting marriage rates due to the physical obstacle it presents, but even the factors that could lead to future incarceration (like engaging with the drug trade) coincide with factors decreasing the likelihood of marriage.

Related to this debate on the lack of eligible black men for marriage is the public discourse regarding absent black fathers.  President Obama spoke about this subject on the 2008 campaign trail, arguing that “Too many fathers are M.I.A.  Too many fathers are AWOL.  They have abandoned their responsibilities, acting like boys instead of men. And the foundations of our families are weaker because of it.  We know this is true everywhere, but nowhere is this more true than in the African American community.”  Elijah Anderson similarly enforced this stereotype of the missing black father in the context of his discussion on “decent daddies.”  He noted that if young men feel they are unable to “make the woman love him without his resorting to abuse” they may drop out of this game of playing house; they shirk responsibility and are, “at best, part-time fathers and partners” (186).  His case studies of two decent daddies present them as exceptions to the rule.  Contrary evidence is offered by Michelle Alexander, author of the New Jim Crow.  She notes in her book that all the people who proliferate the stereotype of the missing black father fail to offer where we will likely find them – in prison.  One million of the ‘missing’ black men in our society can be found in jails or prisons, but the public acknowledgement of this fact is too rare.  She offered research showing that, contrary to this stereotype of the absent black father, “black fathers not living at home are more likely to keep in contact with their children than fathers of any other ethnic or racial group” (179).

Mass incarceration is a problem that intersects many issues of inner-city life that Anderson examined, such as involvement with the drug trade, racial prejudice, and street vs decent families.  Directly, it is a problem affecting black men, but the indirect effects are felt by their partners and children.  By understanding the scope of mass incarceration’s interference with the black community, we can gain a more complete understanding of the problems described by Anderson in Code of the Street. 

Honor, Dignity, and Deterrence in the Sopranos

By Lauren Diamond

In analyzing the convergence of an “honor-based” society and a “dignity-based” society in the film Unforgiven, Orit Kamir determines that these two social orders are “two, fundamental, antithetical bases of unique value systems,” (Kamir, 195).  He defines an “honor culture” as a society which uses “shame as a fundamental criterion to determine worthiness and social rank” (197). Thus putative masculinity, pride, and assertiveness are highly valued. Consequently, honor is a “structure of social power,” in that members of such societies often combat humiliation and earn their honor with displays of violence and power, creating a hierarchical social structure in which aggression and dominance may lead to higher status. Paradoxically, Kamir argues that a dignity-based society values intrinsic virtue within all of mankind, which “implies ‘live and let live,’” (203). In Unforgiven, Kamir conceives of honor and dignity as conflicting value systems. Yet in The Sopranos — particularly in episode three of season one — Tony Soprano is involved in a social system in which deterrence, dignity, and honor exist in the same complex network. 

Like Kamir’s interpretation of Little Bill in Unforgiven, Soprano believes that “in his own mind he is law and justice, a living fusion of manhood, honor, justice, and the law.” (222)  He decides when he applies codes of honor and when he respects human dignity. In the beginning of the episode, hotel owner Shlomo Teittleman offers to give Soprano 25% of his hotel if Soprano forces his son-in-law to agree to a divorce without compensation. Soprano has already established a reputation and claimed honor to his name. Yet verbal intimidation fails to convince the son-in-law to comply because the he lives by a dignity-based code. The son-in-law feels that he has put immeasurable time, effort, and money into his marriage and the hotel, and that it is his fundamental right as a human being to be compensated for the costs of his marriage. But by abiding by the honor-based code, the son-in-law is the means to a profitable end for Soprano, and he overlooks this idea of dignity and human right. To him, a business deal is a business deal. 

According to Kamir’s theory, refusing cooperate could be interpreted as an act to humiliate or shame Soprano. In response, he escalates the situation from an honor perspective by physically harming and threatening to kill the son-in-law to “avenge the offense” (203). Yet the son-in-law still refuses to cooperate, insisting that he would rather die than lose his dignity in accepting a fruitless divorce. Again shaming Soprano’s honor in his refusal, Soprano then threatens to castrate the son-in-law as a more effective method of retaliation, and the son-in-law finally accepts the proposal. He decides that he living without “the most cherished attribute of manhood and masculinity,” would be a worse fate than death (217). To him, the cost of living without the humiliation and shame, and thus the loss of honor that accompanies castration exceeds the cost of losing his life. 

When Soprano goes to collect his share from Teittleman, he tells Soprano that he and the son-in-law have worked out a deal and thus refuses to pay Soprano for his services. From a deterrence perspective, which is not concerned with settling the score but rather sending a message, he brutally beats Teittleman to as “a message of deterrence” (223). In this case, he intends to warn others of the consequences of breaking a promise made to the Mafia. Yet in confluence with the honor code, he also brutalizes Teittleman to essentially settle the score, and punish him for refusing Soprano the money he feels he is owed and threatening his honor and reputation. At this point Teittleman calls Soprano “Frankenstein,” implying that he is inhuman and thus without basic human dignity and compassion for others. 

Yet Soprano often does live by certain codes of dignity in situations involving his loved ones and those he respects. For instance, throughout the episode Soprano struggles with his decision to burn down his best friends Artie Bucco’s restaurant when he is informed that another member of the Mafia plans to murders someone there. He believes that it if someone is murdered in Bucco’s restaurant, he will have to bear the shame of losing all of his customers. However, if the restaurant is burned down, Bucco can collect insurance money and rebuild. Though unconventional, the arson was conducted in an act of “empathy, solidarity, and humanistic obligation” to his companion (203).  He sees his coworker ignoring Bucco’s dignity and treating him as merely a means to their end, a pawn in their grander plan. Thus Soprano burns down Bucco’s restaurant to preserve Bucco’s dignity. 

In another instance, when two of Soprano’s underlings steal from a truck company that is already paying protection money to Soprano’s uncle, Soprano demands that the two boys pay restitution. This is consistent with values in the honor-code, as he demands that to maintain his uncle’s honor the boys must pay for damage they have caused. From a deterrence perspective however, it can additionally be argued that in forcing the boys to pay a huge sum as retribution for their indiscretion, Soprano also means to use them to deter others from making a similar kind of blunder in the future. 

Ultimately, Tony Soprano is immersed in a system in which deterrence, honor-codes, and dignity are all applied in many of the same situations. In the world of the Sopranos, the three value systems can be seen as inseparable, and Tony Soprano uses all three social codes in his leadership tactics.  

Regulators are People Too

By Carson Smith

Regulations aren’t black and white. There’s a gray area where individual identity and organizational culture influence implementation. Like the law, regulation is endogenous—it comes from within. Ultimately, organizations interpret laws to serve their own needs (Edelman, “Law at Work,” p. 337). Individuals’ interpretations vary, however. Prior experience, race, and gender can be significant indicators of an individual’s willingness to accept symbolic compliance (Fuller, et al., “Legal Readings,” p. 206). After the financial collapse of 2008, a confidential report from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York revealed a culture that was too risk averse. The Fed went on a hiring spree to create an outspoken New Guard of bank examiners (Bernstein). Like any cultural shift, this caused a lot of friction. Was the New Guard’s confrontational style damaging the Fed’s credibility? Was the Old Guard stuck in the pocket of big banks? These are easy questions to ask, but they don’t get to the truth of the matter. It’s not likely either side was acting dubiously for any sinister reason. Instead, this friction was a result of experienced individuals confronting a generalist system of regulation that often accepted internal logic and symbolic compliance in order to avoid personal and organizational risk.

In “Law at Work: The Endogenous Construction of Civil Rights,” Lauren Edelman outlines how the law is “generated within the realm it seeks to regulate” (p. 337). There are two main sets of compliance professionals: lawyers and management consultants. Lawyers provide the first reading of new rules—examining any potential threats and providing insight to academic journals, other lawyers, or management consultants. Management consultants are responsible for diffusing the legal information throughout the organization. Since they work within the organization, their interpretation of the law is more likely to represent the views of the business. Edelman also observed how these compliance professionals mythologized and exaggerated claims against companies. They’d tell stories about ridiculous settlements for consumers and employees for organizations that did not meet standards (p. 342). A lack of any mythologizing and the separation between lawyers and management consultants were the central problems of the Federal Reserve. Bank examiners work in the banks they’re regulating as management consultants. Most examiners have introductory knowledge of a variety of regulations. They’d have to call Fed HQ to get any specialized information from lawyers. In practice, however, it was easier to question the people in the bank about complex transactions first. This essentially gave banks incredible influence in regulating themselves (Bernstein). Furthermore, the management consultants lacked any real way to mythologize their positions. Given the nature of financial regulation, improper implementation may come at a large cost overall but, at the same time, a small cost to individual consumers. Although it’s important for the banks to have some say in realistic implementation, this should not get in the way of the regulation’s real purpose. Separation of information and thought between these two entities—lawyers and management consultants—combined with a lack of story-telling helped organizations gain stronger sway over how the law was diffused in the industry.

What happens when individuals enter this workplace with a lawyer’s mindset? Sally Fuller, Lauren Edelman, and Sharon Matasik explain how individuals within organizations interpret and mobilize law differently due to personal history and existing legal structures. They explain how people with more experience in a certain area of law are less likely to accept symbolic messages and more likely to judge a policy based on how it is actually implemented (“Legal Readings,” p. 206). When the Fed started its hiring spree, they were looking for experienced employees for this exact reason. The New Guard of bank examiners were not generalists. Some of them had worked directly with banks in the past on complying with complex rules. Their entire job depended on their ability to understand how laws should actually work (Bernstein). By replacing management consultants with lawyers as bank examiners, the Fed was demonstrating a cultural shift to begin properly regulating the banks.

Carmen Segarra had worked with CitiBank for ten years, helping them comply with a variety of rules and regulations. She was hired as a bank examiner for the Federal Reserve Bank of New York and went after Goldman Sachs for not meeting standards on their conflict of interest policy. She spent seven months building her case, but when she was about to publish her findings, she ran against the Old Guard. Her supervisors were confused as to why this was an issue at all. Goldman Sachs’ Code of Conduct included something that at least looked like a policy. Wasn’t that good enough? Segarra knew it wasn’t, and other Fed lawyers have confirmed this. In the end, she’s forced to act like Goldman had a policy before publishing her findings (Bernstein). The policy in Goldman’s Code of Conduct was a symbol—something put there to give an illusion of following higher standards. Segarra had spent years helping banks make policies like these and knew that how strongly the reality differed from the symbol. Since the other management consultants lacked Segarra’s lawyerly experience, they were more sensitive to the bank’s views. Furthermore, they lacked the urgency in story-telling that would normally characterize legal threat minimization. They worried more about credibility than reality. The mere presence of a symbol remained important to them, whether or not it worked. 

The reason any of this became public was because Carmen Segarra was fired from her job and sued the Fed for wrongful termination. Right now, she’s appealing the case. In response to questions about her termination the Fed said it was based “entirely on performance grounds, not because she raised concerns as a member of an examination team about any institution” (Bernstein). This is believable to some Fed employees who thought Segarra had “sharper elbows”. For Segarra, however, the symbol has strayed from reality. 

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Bernstein, Jake. ""The Secret Recordings of Carmen Segarra"" This American Life. 

Edelman, Lauren, "The Law at Work"

Fuller, et al, "Legal Readings"

Gender, Gendering, and the Law

By Jihad Komis

Gender is perhaps better understood as a verb than a noun. It is a process that ensures that everything from what we wear, read and watch, to the ways we think, feel and even perceive our future carries a gendered undertone. Gender can be a significant lens through which we shape our identity and how we choose to interact with different spheres of society. One such sphere is the law. Examining the different ways the two ends of the gender spectrum, men and women, interact with and understand the law can lead to observing many clear differences along gender lines. Elizabeth Hoffman’s work in analyzing cooperative working environments illustrates such a situation. While cooperative organizations intend to flatten traditional hierarchical power dynamics and create an atmosphere in which all individuals feel comfortable utilizing company laws to settle disputes, Hoffman’s work demonstrates that gender still influences who is willing to use various forms of procedures. It can be difficult to understand why the removal of traditional boss/subordinate dynamics in a workplace fails to eliminate the variations in the procedures men and women are comfortable using. However, when applying the evidence and logic collected in the study performed by Grasmick, which investigates the ways gender affects how a person interacts with laws, it becomes clearer why gender is about so much more than just power dynamics. 

Hoffman’s report asserts that women are more likely to utilize formal procedures when resolving workplace disputes, while men prefer more informal avenues. There are claims that the reasoning behind such a trend is that women simply did not have access to the male dominated system of “networking” that is required for successfully using informal approaches. While the noted difference in such access is undoubtedly a factor, the motivation of such women is much more complex and can be in some ways subconscious. The informal procedures in Hoffman’s analysis carry more risk and require a higher degree of assertion on the part of women.  Informal procedures also often revolve around direct confrontation between two parties. These added components may leave women feeling at a distinct disadvantage due to the way women are socialized to perceive risk, confrontation and conflicts differently than men. Through different mechanisms of societal reward and punishment, women are ingrained with notions that favor avoiding confrontation because to do otherwise is to “engage in status threatening behavior by failing to appear passive, dependent or fearful.” Thus methods that require such confrontation may seem less favorable to women. Attempting to eliminate traditional power hierarchies in a work place doesn’t erase decades of engendered socialization that leaves women feeling that they cannot argue and advocate for themselves in the same manner men can.

Formal procedures at the company in question tend to incorporate a spokesperson to speak on behalf of wronged women. In addition, they require a degree of objectivity and ensure all aggrieved parties get an opportunity to voice their concerns. In essence there is a greater atmosphere of control. Grasmick’s study conveys that women tend to experience an increased amount of control over their lives by parents, family members and other authority figures.  This pattern can lead to women feeling more familiar with controlled processes and procedures as opposed to the loose nature of informal conflict resolution. Arguing or debating over the course of a conflict can be associated with aggression and anger which are other characteristics society punishes women for exhibiting. The ability for women to have representatives speak on their behalf when incorporating formal conflict resolution methods may subconsciously alleviate some of the concerns women may have about others perceiving them to be less like what society has defined to be “womanly.”

Grasmick and company do argue that the ways in which man and women interact with the law is converging. This overarching conclusion does not render the evidence found in their article incompatible with the results of Hoffman’s for a variety of reasons.  One explanation for the reduction in variability observed between men and women’s interaction with the law offered by Grasmick is that there are more women in in the work force and in employed office settings. There are also more women in authoritative positions and living in a more empowered context, and thus able to mimic men’s interactions with the law. While these claims may be true, they are not entirely applicable to the co-op case study examined by Hoffman. While the working community overall has more women workers, the coop organization is comprised of only 16 per cent women. In addition, of the various semi-authoritative positions available in the co-op, a majority of these positions are held by men. In fact only one position of great power is held by a woman. Lastly, Hoffman asserts that for women cab driving is often considered an unconventional occupation - which can influence interpretations of the power dynamics by women. So while Grasmick’s evidence supports a growing trend in which women are able to mirror the actions of men in a legal framework in society as whole, the specific characteristics of the co-op in Hoffman’s article are not conducive to women feeling as though they are on the same playing field as men.

Hoffman may be right in attributing her observed variation is usage of formal/informal procedures along gender lines to women not being a part of the “boys club,” but gender in this case study is about so much more than exclusion. It dictates perceptions of success and what the stakes are. When society punishes women for playing the game the same way men do, it is not surprising that they rely on more structured methods to trespass through the “dangerous” domain of pursuing restorative justice. 

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Work Cited

Hoffman, E. (2005). Dispute Resolution in a Worker Cooperative: Formal Procedures and Procedural Justice. Journal of the Law and Society Association, 39, 51-82.

Grasmick, H., Blackwell, B., & Bursik, R. (1993). Changes in the Sex Patterning of Perceived Threats of Sanctioning. Journal of the Law and Society Association, 27, 679-705.

Here Comes the "Sun"

By Erin Figley

Bright yellow floods the streets of the city and proud chants fill the air as bodies adorned in blue and gold garments move toward the southwest end of town. This image can only mean one thing: it is game day in Ann Arbor. Most Ann Arbor dwellers, academics, and students can recognize what maize represents to this community—it signifies high academic standards, cherished athletics (perhaps not recently, but historically speaking), and, most importantly, tradition. But few understand the more complicated story of maize, and how this beloved hue and symbol of Wolverine pride has transformed in recent years. 

In the past decade, there has been a surge in the popularity of university athletic teams to license logos to apparel corporations. In 2008, the University of Michigan entered a contract with Adidas, terminating previous agreements with Nike, which retaliated by copyrighting the color maize. Consequently, the law forced the university and its new partner Adidas to create an entirely new color—“Sun”—that now represents Michigan. “Sun” has morphed how students and sports fanatics perform their social identity as Michigan fans. This case exemplifies how color is an essential element of the “uniform” that we employ to participate in a group identity and how administrative decisions can influence social identity symbols.  

The colors maize and blue are fundamental symbols in the performance of one’s self-concept as a Michigan fan. Thus, the shift in the shade of yellow did not merely change the color of the Michigan football team’s uniform; it altered the informal uniform that makes the University of Michigan fan in-group distinct. Categorizing oneself with a certain social identity is to behave as the other individuals in the group behave (Stets and Burke 2000: 226). The yellow student section during home football games expresses the symbolic and practical significance of the color maize. Both social identity theory and identity theory explain that “the self is reflexive in that it can take itself as an object and can categorize, classify, or name itself in particular ways in relation to other social categories or classifications” (Stets and Burke 2000: 224). Wearing maize is part of the process of self-categorization in the football fan realm.

To the dismay of many fans, “sports teams and universities eventually gained a monopoly in the fan apparel context after licensing became increasingly commonplace” (Franklin 2011: 995). This recent phenomenon has created a new sector of copyright law, whereby “unlicensed apparel providers face trademark infringement liability” (Franklin 2011: 988). In the case of the University of Michigan and the color maize, Nike’s copyright legally requires the university teams to use a different color for athletic clothing. However, in exchange for the apparel company’s license for the logo, the apparel providers pay an annual premium to the team (Franklin 2011). For this reason, the University of Michigan agreed to an eight-year partnership with Adidas in the fall of 2008—valued at $7.5 million annually (Madej 2007). As a result, team logos, and even colors, became a commodity of the athletic team and its apparel partner, rather than solely a symbol of in-group identity.

According to the University of Michigan Official Athletic Site, “Maize and Blue are some of the most recognizable icons in college history… Michigan athletic teams have been wearing Maize and Blue for more than 100 years” (Maize and Blue 2014). The athletic department describes the long-term history of the colors, but it fails to note how the most recent change to the maize hue came about and its ensuing implications. As identity theorist Jerome Bruner articulates, “In our social world, the more fixed one’s self-concept, the more difficult it is to manage change” (Bruner 1980:165).  Accordingly, tampering with the embedded legacy of tradition that the University of Michigan promotes and casts in maize and blue lighting has instilled a discontented response. 

This change in a century-old symbol of University of Michigan culture has not been adopted without contestation. Even the athletes themselves have qualms about the adoption of “Sun” yellow. The Michigan Daily published an article titled “Hurrah to the sun and blue?” in 2010,  that explains how the transition from Nike to Adidas sponsorship has come with “growing pains.” Contributors Lexi Zimmerman and Courtney Fletcher, who are former University of Michigan volleyball players, mention how the volleyball team chastised the new color: “Adidas actually had to make a new version of our school color, now known as ‘Sun’ (which the volleyball team has affectionately dubbed the ‘highlighter’ jerseys).” The athletes emphasized that augmenting school colors modifies the customs of an athlete’s life: “Tradition. It’s one of the main reasons we chose to come to the University of Michigan. But ever since we arrived, major aspects of that tradition have changed, especially in the athletic department… they have a huge impact on an athlete’s everyday life” (Zimmerman and Fletcher 2010).

With the advent of the blogosphere, Michigan sports fans discovered an outlet to display their civil unrest about the color change and subsequent group identity transformation.  In 2012, Brian of mgoblog defiantly stated, “Anyone who's surveyed a student section and been able to pick out the 10% who still wear shirts that would not blind a donkey knows how alarming the color drift has become in recent years” (Brian 2012). Several University of Michigan fans believe that the bright “alarming” color is not characteristic of their identity as a Michigan Wolverine. Backlash about “Sun” may eventually materialize into the potential for institutional change at the athletic department’s level, as one blogger underscores: “There is an effort within the athletic department to slowly get away from using the bright neon-yellow that has become synonymous with Michigan sports teams. A point to which I can only add a slow clap.” (Brad 2012). 

When Adidas and the university administration invoked the color change, students and fans experienced an identity crisis. Because the norms of wearing the true golden deep yellow maize color were changed in favor of the “highlighter” color, students and fans felt a disconnect from one of the most central components of the Michigan fan informal uniform. The passionate color-related contention indicates the importance of color as a cultural symbol and an element of performing the University of Michigan fan identity. 

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Works Cited 

Brad. 2012. Bringing Back Maize. Maize and Blue Nation. Retrieved from http://www.maizenbluenation.com/2012/02/bringing-back-maize.html.

Brian. 2012. Rumorizing: ND at Night, Maize That’s Actually Maize. MGoBlog. Retrieved from http://mgoblog.com/content/rumormongering-nd-night-maize-thats-actually-maize.

Bruner, Jerome.1996. A narrative model of self construction. Psyke & Logos. 17: 154-170. 

Franklin, David. 2011. League Parity: Bringing Back Unlicensed Competition in the Sports Fan Apparel Market. Chicago-Kent Law Review. 86(2):987-1017. 

Madej, Bruce. 2007. Addidas New Athletic Supplier. The University Record Online.

Maize and Blue. 2014. MGoBlue: Athletics News. Retrieved from http://www.mgoblue.com/genrel/070109aab.html.

Stes, Jan E., Peter J. Burke. 2000. Identity Theory and Social Identity Theory. Social Psychology Quarterly, 6(3):224-237.

Zimmerman and Courtney Fletcher. 2010. Hurrah to the sun and blue? The Michigan Daily. 

General(ly disconnected) Motors

by Connor Rubin

General Motors is one of the worlds’ largest automakers. It (directly) employs 219,000 people and earns annual revenues of $150 billion. But in the face of daunting recalls numbering in the tens of millions and more than a dozen deaths, GM faces a gargantuan problem: how to change an organizational culture with over 200,000 individual elements that make it up. In 1996 the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra faced a conflict in organizational structure similar to the one General Motors is going through now. While these two organizations may seem worlds apart, the ideas that bind or separate organizational cultures cross industrial boundaries.

One thing is absolutely clear—things must change. In the wake of mounting recalls and death tolls, the company  - under new CEO Mary Barra - tasked an outside law firm to write a report on what caused these problems. It had one answer: culture. According to the report, GM had a culture where cutting costs was seen as an oppositional force to ensuring quality (Foroohar, 2014). Much as the Atlanta Symphony dealt with dueling organizational cultures - “a world class symphony in a world class city… [or] the best symphony we can afford” (Glynn, 2000) - General Motors faced a similar problem: a world class car, or the car we can afford to build. As evidence has shown, “the car we can afford to build” won out, but lost big in the end. 

Sharing information between distinct but symbiotic parts is necessary for the success of any organization. Given various parties different interest, “conflict between ideological elements in the organization's identity seems almost inevitable,” (Glynn, 2000). However, if that conflict results in crucial information being shared, it generally ends up helping the finished product. When one (or both) side(s) stop sharing information, or when one side takes too much power in the intra-organizational debate, you have a total stoppage of quality production. In the case of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra it was a series of strikes, in the case of General Motors it was the recall of almost 30,000,000 cars.

This lack of communication was caused by a feeling of disconnectedness between various parts of these organizations. According to an interview with CEO Mary Barra, General Motors is attempting to shift away from a culture where a car is viewed “as simply a collection of 30,000 parts… [Where people are] experts in this or this without recognizing people don’t buy this or that—they buy a car, and we’ve got to pull it all together, and people have to talk,” (Foroohar, 2014). This step is necessary: “identification is stronger when organizational members perceive a large overlap between those attributes that characterize their professional identity and those that characterize the organizational identity” (Dutton et al. 1994; cited in Glynn 2000). An engineer that may have otherwise noticed a literally fatal flaw in a part design has no reason to if they don’t feel connected to it. If an engineer solely handles issues with one area of the vehicle, they feel less strongly connected to the rest of the vehicle, and by extension, the company. 

In the immediate aftermath of the strike, all the various components of the Atlanta symphony came together to project a singular “hybrid identity” (Glynn, 2000). It was only after the strike - when the differences were most pronounced and detrimental - that the two sides began to come together again. In the immediate aftermath of a crisis, the roles and responsibilities of each individual member were made far more clear - this is where the metaphor diverges for the symphony and General Motors. While the strikes were settled with a compromise and agreement, both sides retreated to their various roles - albeit with a better understanding of the other. General Motors must systemically change their roles, from those of passive observers of others work to those positions where they constantly challenge each other to be better. The orchestra simply went back to being musicians with a better appreciation of the board, and the board members simply went back to being board members with a more pronounced appreciation of musicians; their overall organizational identity stayed fairly static. That cannot and should not be the case at General Motors, where the culture (officially or unofficially) was one where passing on bad news to higher ups was frowned upon. 

In 2010 when General Motors came out of bankruptcy it called itself the New GM. Four years later, in the aftermath of an engineering crisis, it’s calling itself that once again. Whatever happens to this new-new GM, some things are certain. Dueling cultures in an organization aren’t inherently bad, but when the balance tips too far to one side it can lead to disastrous results. It’s crucial for the company to unify, as the Atlanta Symphony did, and change the way they do things in order to continue to grow.

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Foroohar, Rana. "Mary Barra's Bumpy Ride." Time 06 Oct. 2014: 32-38. Web.

Glynn, Mary A. "When Cymbals Became Symbols: Conflict Over Organizational Identity Within A Symphony Orchestra." Institute For Operations Research and the Management Sciences Cultural Industries 11.3 (2000): 285-98. 

Minors in Possession and the Deterrence Model

By Ben Atlas

When faced with the possibility of breaking the law, most of us might initially contemplate the legal consequences associated with that action. Yet as Grasmick and Bursik explain, there are other factors to account for when such an opportunity arises. In addition to “state-imposed physical and material deprivation,” they argue that “self-imposed shame” and “socially imposed embarrassment” also factor into one’s decisions on legal compliance (Grasmick & Bursik: 841). While they found that self-imposed shame was the most effective deterrent, some of Grasmick and Bursik’s other results did not materialize as expected. Regardless, the study provides a good foundation for evaluating how certain populations interact with specific laws. Particularly, how might Grasmick and Bursik’s results look if they studied college students faced with breaking Michigan’s Minor in Possession of alcohol (MIP) law? While the social underpinnings of underage drinking would lead to much different findings, applying these concepts can still help us better understand a student’s thought process when choosing to break this law.

Michigan’s underage drinking laws are stricter than in many other states: the law defines a person’s body as a container, and allows officers to stop and ticket someone even if he/she does not have alcohol on his/her person (“Michigan Liquor Control Act”). For students in Ann Arbor, first time offenders of the MIP law generally enter into a deferred sentence program, which involves paying $405 in fines and court fees and attending an alcohol awareness class. Upon completing those requirements and provided that the person is not cited again for a drug or alcohol-related offense, the case will be dismissed after six months (“Minor in Possession”).

In their study, Grasmick and Bursik said that the principles of expected utility factor into one’s assessment of the threat of sanctions: people account for the “likelihood (certainty) of such sanctions and the magnitude (severity) of such sanctions should they be imposed” (Grasmick & Bursik, 839). The certainty dimension helps explain why the MIP law is not an effective deterrent to drinking. Underage students tend to drink in their dorm rooms, at fraternity or house parties, or at football tailgates - places where the sheer volume of people makes you feel invulnerable to getting caught. Additionally, the sanctions are more severe in its short-term rather than long-term components. Students are likely most concerned with keeping their record clean and maintaining the ability to drink and socialize. Since probation is non-reporting and the charges are dropped pending its completion, a single MIP offense does not result in any long-term harm. What would likely deter students are the more tangible, short-term penalties: the cost of court fees and paying a lawyer, the time spent in court and with your lawyer, and the time taken to attend the awareness classes. The short-term costs are harsher, but are weighed less heavily than the long-term costs when considering overall severity. A one-time MIP offense will not likely deter a student from underage drinking in the future, but will instead make them more vigilant about police and more strategic of where and how they drink.

         

If underage drinkers are undeterred by the threat of an MIP’s legal sanctions, then they will likely be even less phased by the threat of shame. Grasmick and Bursik describe this cost as an internalization of guilt for violating a norm, which makes sense within the context of the crimes they studied. However, for many college students, drinking complies with a social norm, and the threat of internalized shame or guilt may be more likely for someone not drinking. Thus, both the certainty and severity of the threat of shame would be close to zero.

The threat of socially imposed embarrassment is the third and final form of deterrence, and the one with the most variability in the MIP context. Assuming someone is among a like-minded group of friends, social norms dictate that there would be no threat of embarrassment imposed by one’s peers. The likelihood and severity of embarrassment would be higher if imposed by the adults in a student’s life: parents, grandparents, professors, etc. Most parents are probably aware that their college-aged children drink, but may not have a great idea of the frequent and excessive nature of such drinking. Regardless, since students are away at school, the threat of embarrassment from adults is not a strong enough deterrent.

Though the effectiveness of each of the threats varied among the three crimes, Grasmick and Bursik found that a prior offense was an effective deterrent across the board. While the legal sanctions and levels of shame and embarrassment all become more severe with a second MIP offense, the lack of certainty of getting caught remains at a similar level. Each of the threats of a second offense may cause a student to scale down his/her drinking behavior, but it will not deter someone entirely.

            

Because underage drinking is so common among college students, if the study were to be replicated, it would be more sensible to measure what Grasmick and Bursik describe as the “stigma” of being caught rather than the “stigma of committing the offense” (Grasmick & Bursik, 855). A student is unlikely to feel shame or embarrassment for drinking, but rather for being stupid and irresponsible enough to be in a position where they got caught.  Though modifying the study would correlate shame and embarrassment more strongly with deterrence, it seems clear that the social motivations to drink would still outweigh these potential costs.

            

Though Grasmick and Bursik’s conclusions do not correspond perfectly to college students and underage drinking, they still provide a lens through which we can evaluate why they choose to break the law. The culture on many college campuses demonstrates that norms and the law do not always agree. In this case, the social benefits of drinking seem to outweigh the deterring threats of legal sanctions, self-imposed shame and socially imposed embarrassment.

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Grasmick, Harold G., and Robert J. Bursik, Jr. "Conscience, Significant Others, and Rational Choice: Extending the Deterrence Model." Law and Society Review 24.3 (1990): 837-62. 

Michigan Liquor Control Act of 1998, §§ 436-703-705 (Michigan Legislature 1998). 

"Minor in Possession of Alcohol Information." Studentlegalservices.umich.edu. University of Michigan, n.d. Web. 22 Sept. 2014.

Using Twitter to Enable Peer Learning

We're one month or so into "Law, Culture, and Identity" and things are in full swing! Students have just turned in their first batch of papers, and I'll be putting up the first student-authored posts later this week - very exciting! I wanted to take a few minutes today, though, to talk about the course's twitter component, and how I'm using it to pedagogical ends.

Each student is required to tweet @lawallover at least twice during the semester, with a picture and/or short explanation of some rule/law/norm, breaking of same, or identity category they've found out in the world. I cannot encourage you strongly enough to go check out the @lawallover twitter feed, because they have been KILLING it. Their tweets have been creative, funny, and on point: terrific illustrations of the ways that laws and rules work in the world.

I'm fine with a pedagogical transparency (most of the time), so it's worth enumerating the goals I'm trying to achieve by requiring these tweets, and not too early in the semester to take stock of how those processes are going.

Goal #1: Get Students to Look for Law Everywhere
This course's tagline is "law is everywhere, so we will look for it everywhere." It seems not only reasonable but perhaps necessary to get students to look around outside of the classroom if I want them to understand how pervasive laws, norms, and rules are in our everyday life. To ensure that students put their environments under the microscope - at least every once in a while - I require that they tweet examples of law at work in those environments. It's a straightforward instantiation of a key course goal, and social media is the perfect medium to communicate the far-reaching effects of the law.

Even a cursory look at the twitter feed shows that the students have embraced this mission. Tweets about rules/norms in dining halls, apartments, buses, the NFL, libraries, and more are filling the feed, dramatically expanding the universe of examples of law and culture at work available to students.

Which brings me to a second, no less important goal.

Goal #2: Harness the Power of Peer Learning
There is no shortage of studies showing that students learn material better when they use each other as pedagogical resources in addition to an instructor. Group work is the most common way to harness the inherent advantages of peer-to-peer learning, but it isn't the only way.


No matter how much confidence I may have in myself as an instructor, and no matter how creatively any instructor presents material, it can still only be one person presenting examples and illustrations as one person perceives them. But as a group, my class is far more creative and far-reaching than any one of us could ever hope to be on our own. Even if every student tweets only twice (the minimum requirement), that means over 90 different, creative, examples of the law at work that students would not otherwise have been exposed to. Twitter enables both the number of "instructors" to radically expand, as each student is teaching each other when they tweet, but radically expands the conceptual size of the classroom. Now, wherever any one of my students is, there is an opportunity to use twitter to bring that space into the class (digitally, anyway).

Goal #3: Informal Assessment 
It also gives me, as an instructor, more than 90 discrete opportunities to informally gauge student learning. Every time a student tweets, I can ask myself "does this student get the concept they are trying to illustrate?" It's informal, and certainly imperfect, but in combination with other assessments it's another way for me to take the pulse of the class and of individual students more regularly. (And, if you're reading this, students, so far the answer has always been yes.)

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Requiring students to tweet may seem like a simple add on, or even a pandering attempt to make the class more modern, but it's not actually either of those things. Twitter has let me engage student learning outside the classroom, actually expand the spaces in which student learning takes place, harness the incredible power of peer-to-peer teaching, and given me more opportunities to determine how well students are learning (and adjust lesson plans accordingly. It's a simple tool, but one with loads of possibilities that we are only just learning to exploit in the classroom.