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

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Editor in Chief
MAGDALENA MIHAYLOVA 
AND JOEL DANILEWITZ
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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.

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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

