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 FINNTAN STORER Managing Editor Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building 420 Maynard St. Ann Arbor, MI 48109 tothedaily@michigandaily.com Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890. MAYA GOLDMAN Editor in Chief MAGDALENA MIHAYLOVA AND JOEL DANILEWITZ Editorial Page Editors Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of The Daily’s Editorial Board. All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors. EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS 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. CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION Readers are encouraged to submit letters to the editor and op-eds. Letters should be fewer than 300 words while op-eds should be 550 to 850 words. Send the writer’s full name and University affiliation to tothedaily@michigandaily.com. SUBMIT TO SURVIVORS SPEAK The Opinion section has created a space in The Michigan Daily for first-person accounts of sexual assault and its corresponding personal, academic and legal implications. Submission information can be found at https://tinyurl.com/survivespeak. 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