Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Monday, December 9, 2019
Alanna Berger
Zack Blumberg
Emily Considine
Joel Danilewitz
Cheryn Hong
Krystal Hur
Ethan Kessler
Magdalena Mihaylova
Mary Rolfes
Michael Russo
Timothy Spurlin
Miles Stephenson
Joel Weiner
Erin White
Lola Yang
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JOEL WEINER | COLUMN
The juvenile justice system needs reform
Ask first, post later
I
n October, Gov. Gretchen
Whitmer
signed
into
law a bill decreeing that
Michigan’s
court
system
will no longer automatically
treat 17-year-old offenders
as adults. Unless the district
attorney wants to try the
defendant as an adult, which
it reserves the right to do,
juvenile courts will handle
the cases. This is a victory
for proponents of criminal
justice reform, and it is not
the only way in which the
juvenile system has improved.
In the past 20 years, the
population
of
incarcerated
juveniles has been at its
highest, reaching a peak in
2000, after a long spate of
heightened crime in the 1990s.
However, between 2001 and
2013, the number fell more
than 53 percent, from 76,000
to 35,000. In addition, 23
states and Washington D.C.
have banned life sentences
without parole for juvenile
offenders. In the 2012 case
Miller v. Alabama, the U.S.
Supreme Court banned the
practice
of
automatically
giving
juvenile
offenders
life in prison without the
possibility
of
parole.
The
court
then
applied
that
standard retroactively with
the 2016 case of Montgomery
v. Louisiana, which forced
states to reconsider the life
sentences
of
people
who
committed
crimes
when
they were juveniles. Because
of this crackdown on the
practice, just three states
account for two-thirds of
all juvenile life sentences:
Michigan, Pennsylvania and
Louisiana. As of this August,
55 percent of those Michigan
prisoners — almost 200 people
— are still waiting for their
sentences to be reviewed in
accordance with Montgomery
v. Louisiana.
These sentencing numbers
are different from state to
state
because
each
state
conducts juvenile proceeding
in different ways. Some states
charge people as young as
16 years old as adults, while
others, like Vermont, will let
non-violent offenders as old
as 21 be tried as juveniles.
States distinguish between
juveniles and adults during
criminal proceedings because
young minds are different
than older ones. Teenager’s
brains are still developing,
so
their
mental
analysis
of risk and reward is less
sophisticated than an adult’s.
Because young people have
less mental capacity to make
calculated
decisions,
their
actions are not to be held to
the same standard as adults.
Additionally, kids are more
likely to conform to their
surroundings than adults are,
and prison can therefore shape
their worldview and behavior
much more extensively than
it would an adult’s. This was
recognized in 1889, when
Chicago established the first
separate detention system for
youth. When young people are
detained with adult offenders,
they
are
more
likely
to
reoffend upon release.
Rehabilitation,
the
idea
that the state should help
criminals back into society
and prepare them for their
release, is one of the main
theories
of
punishment.
Treating juveniles as adults
is not just ineffective, it is
counterproductive to the goal
of criminal justice. One way
juvenile justice has changed
to better accommodate this
goal is through disciplinary
measures that do not involve
incarceration. They offer help
like guidance counselors that
are meant more to support
the offenders than punish
them. These are critical to
the success of the system
because they are effective in
preventing young offenders
from committing crimes as
adults.
Despite
that
effort,
the
system still falls short all
too often. More than 4,000
juveniles are locked in adult
jails
and
prisons,
which
severely
endangers
them:
a young person goes into
prison, they often become
victims of heinous crimes.
A
juvenile
incarcerated
in an adult prison is five
times more likely than an
adult
imprisoned
in
the
same facility to be sexually
assaulted in prison, as noted
by Congress in 2003.
Racial
disparities
have
also gotten worse in the
juvenile
justice
system.
Young
African-Americans
were detained, on average, at
four times the rate of of their
white counterparts in 2001.
That
difference
increased
fivefold in 2017. In Wisconsin,
New
Jersey,
Montana,
Delaware, Connecticut and
Massachusetts,
African-
American
minors
are
10
times
more
likely
than
white minors to be detained.
Furthermore,
while
the
population of incarcerated
juvenile offenders sharply
declined during the early
2000s,
it
dropped
much
faster for white youth than
it did for Black youth, which
worsened
the
existing
racial divide. This disparity
reflects a structural bias
within the juvenile justice
system that extends to the
criminal justice system at
large.
The juvenile justice system
has succeeded in addressing
a variety of problems that
the overall criminal justice
system often struggles with.
It
has
seriously
brought
down
its
incarcerated
population, and states have
been
passing
more
laws
protecting
the
rights
of
minors during sentencing.
That
said,
the
atrocious
racial disparity and high rate
of sexual assault, especially
among juveniles locked up
with
adults,
demonstrates
that the system still has large
strides to make.
CHAND RAJENDRA-NICOLUCCI | COLUMN
Joel Weiner can be reached at
jgweiner@umich.edu.
O
n a recent weekend
night, a friend of mine
had too much to drink,
leading to some embarrassing
but funny moments. These
moments
were
inevitably
captured
and
uploaded
to
social media as part of the fun.
At the time it seemed natural.
But thinking about it later,
I wondered: Was it wrong
to have shared the video
without our friend’s consent?
Were we unnecessarily using
them for our own benefit?
Sharing pictures and videos
of our friends and family has
become automatic in a lot
of contexts. Parties, game
nights, random embarrassing
or funny moments — time
spent with those closest to
us is a consistent source of
content for our social media.
But should it be?
Not without their consent.
When thinking about this,
I found a thought experiment
helpful: Would you be willing
to show the picture or video in
question as part of a slideshow
to a room of your followers?
If
not,
maybe
posting
it
deserves a second thought.
We’ve
been
conditioned
to
assume
anything
and
everything belongs online as
part of our perpetual digital
performance. See something,
post
something.
This
mentality makes everything,
including the people closest to
us, a means to an end — the end
being a post that entertains or
fulfills our particular social
media goals.
There
is
a
difference
between
capturing
moments and taking scripted
snapshots.
Capturing
a
moment involves recording
something that is happening,
usually spontaneously (think
a picture you take of a friend
doing something at a party).
A scripted snapshot is where
everyone involved decides to
come together to take a picture
or video (think the picture
you take after a family event).
I’m writing about capturing
moments and posting them.
Scripted snapshots involve a
level of consent that makes
posting
them
unsurprising.
Capturing moments, however,
usually involves a level of
intimacy that makes posting
them
more
invasive
and
problematic. We do things
with our close friends and
family
that
we
don’t
do
with anyone else because of
the
trust,
acceptance
and
bonds that come with those
relationships.
The
funny
thing
about
the real world is that we
are invisible to most people
outside of our inner circle.
But when we are recorded and
put online, we are suddenly
visible. People who would
otherwise have no interest in
what you’re doing are suddenly
captivated by the face staring
back at them. They have a
whole digital profile (name,
Twitter, LinkedIn, Facebook,
Instagram,
etc.)
to
attach
to the content that they’re
seeing, making the irrelevant
and meaningless relevant and
meaningful. Our close friends
and family are the only people
who can break through this
wall. They are the only ones
who care enough to record
our everyday moments, and
therefore they are the only
ones with the power to make
the
quotidian
permanent,
searchable
and
visible
to
everyone else.
Asking for consent when
sharing
moments
would
respect those closest to us and
encourage critical thinking
about
privacy.
Asking
permission
acknowledges
people’s
autonomy
and
personal
preferences.
It
treats them with respect and
avoids making them simple
fuel for social media. Asking
permission also forces the
poster and the subject to
consider the costs, benefits
and motivations of a post
instead of participating in
the automatic sharing process
common
today.
It
would
resist the commoditization
of our lives and encourage
conversations
about
social
media use and privacy that
rarely
occur.
Do
parents’
embarrassing moments need
to be online? Should their
kids’ be? Should your friends’
weird
habits
or
drunken
revelry be posted? Maybe.
Maybe not. But the question
should be asked.
As more and more people
feel
like
they
have
lost
control
of
their
privacy
online, asking before posting
moments would be a small
step toward regaining control.
Yes, it won’t eliminate the
constant tracking from tech
companies, data brokers and
everyone else with a vested
interest in the surveillance
economy.
But
it
would
encourage
more
awareness
about privacy and the effects
of technology and potentially
foster healthier relationships.
Thinking back to my friend,
holding off on posting until
asking
them
would
have
cost next to nothing (other
than
instant
gratification)
while
potentially
avoiding
making them an instrument,
embarrassing them or creating
anxiety about who saw the
video. It seems obvious that
asking for permission before
posting
moments
is
the
right thing to do in a close
relationship. We care for our
close friends and family in
many different ways. Why
should their presence online
be any different?
Chand Rajendra-Nicolucci can be
reached at chandrn@umich.edu.
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CHERYN HONG | COLUMN
Make friends who don’t look like you
I
never had trouble making
friends.
Coming
into
college, the least of my
concerns was being able to
connect with others and form
new relationships. However,
looking
back
at
my
first
semester, I realize I neglected
to
acknowledge
a
certain
tension I felt while trying to
socialize with other freshmen.
Something continuously made
me
uncomfortable,
and
it
took me time to realize this
discomfort signified a problem
I never experienced before.
There
were
consistent,
subtle comments of disgust
from my peers about the types
of food I liked, such as raw fish
and soy-sauce based dishes.
There was also a dislike for the
way I ate in regard to sounds
my mouth made. This divide
in palate and food shouldn’t
have discouraged me from
opening up to others — but it
did. It made me ashamed of my
eating habits and my cultural
background
as
a
whole,
causing me to feel isolated and
resulted in me shying away
from communities I bonded
with at U-M.
I was a little disheartened
but
remained
determined
to
branch
out
and
meet
more people. A group of my
friends I just met decided
to get poke bowls, and I was
excited to explore the variety
of restaurants in Ann Arbor.
But throughout the meal, I
had
stereotypical
questions
directed toward me regarding
eastern Asia. A girl asked
me whether or not Japan
experienced daylight, because
all the images she saw of the
country were at night. Another
asked if I ate poke often, even
though I never mentioned
anything about my heritage.
Refusing to be discouraged,
I went out on a Friday night
with a new group of people,
and at a party one guy asked
one of the girls I was with to
dance, and she said no. When I
later asked her why, she replied
that “she had already hooked
up with one Black guy” earlier
that week. Even though I don’t
identify as Black, it was clear
that race was salient to them
when considering a hook-up,
which meant they filter people
by race, including me.
This disconnect or feeling
of alienation stemmed from
the fact that, in all these cases,
I was the only person in the
group who identified as a
person of East Asian descent.
It
would
be
grossly
inaccurate to say I haven’t met
people who are open-minded,
compassionate
and
kind
people. That being said, what I
underestimated was the extent
that microaggressions would
upset me. This is not because
of
prejudice
or
ignorance,
but
because
they
created
racially-charged barriers that
prevented me from making
friends outside my race.
My
closest
friends
back
home don’t identify as my race,
and until now, I surrounded
myself with people who didn’t
look like me. I planned to
create the same communities
in college. However, the past
few months have highlighted
the significance of race at
U-M. Students recognize each
other’s race and use it to create
barriers
in
their
personal
communities, with or without
intention. It seems to me that
friend groups are often created
along the lines of skin color
and force people to stay in
their comfort zones.
I understand that diverse
groups exist at the University,
but
I
have
noticed
as
a
freshman that friend groups
within
the
class
of
2023
are often divided by race.
And
this
isn’t
uncommon.
It makes logical sense that
people
create
friendships
based
on
similarities,
and
commonalities tend to not cut
across race.
Given this observation, I
want to emphasize how crucial
it is for students — especially
freshmen
—
to
create
diverse
relationships
and
how integral and beneficial
interracial friend groups can
be to individuals. Researchers
Thomas Pettigrew and Linda
Tropp conducted the “Meta-
analytic test of intergroup
contact theory”, which found
that
intergroup
contact
typically reduces intergroup
prejudice.
These
prejudices
and fear of prejudice from
peers convey that students
expect interracial encounters
to go badly, according to
another
study
done
by
Elizabeth Page-Gould, Rodolfo
Mendoza-Denton and Linda
Tropp at UMass Amherst. The
study also defines the solution
to this dilemma as “guided
relationship-building,” which
rectifies the anxiety people
have interacting with groups
of different races.
My desire to reach out
to
people
from
different
backgrounds, along with the
prejudice I have encountered,
could
both
be
virtually
resolved by students becoming
mindful
of
who
they
are
surrounding themselves with.
According to Professor Miles
Hewstone at the University of
Oxford, behavior sociologists
warn
that
the
idea
of
homophily — the tendency for
people to create relationships
with people who are socially
similar
to
themselves
—
fortifies
stereotypes
about
both
ourselves
and
other
groups. This leads us to believe
our own groups are superior,
and
consequently
portray
other groups as lesser, which
can even result in a dislike of
these “lesser groups.”
I don’t take the comments
I mentioned before to heart.
I realize that, in part, what
makes
freshman
year
so
difficult is the fact that we
are
encountering
people
from a multitude of different
communities.
University
students
need
to
take
advantage of the sheer number
of undergraduates in school
here
and
create
not
only
racially diverse communities,
but
communities
with
variation
in
socioeconomic
background
and
cultural
heritage.
Homophily
fortifies
stereotypes about
both ourselves
and other groups
Cheryn Hong can be reached at
cherynh@umich.edu.
Treating juveniles
as adults is not just
ineffective, it is
counterproductive