Conflict, Contradiction, and Contrarian Elements in Moral Development and Education

Conflict, Contradiction, and Contrarian Elements in Moral Development and Education

Conflict, Contradiction, and Contrarian Elements in Moral Development and Education Edited by

Larry Nucci University of Illinois at Chicago

LAWRENCE ERLBAUM ASSOCIATES, PUBLISHERS Mahwah, New Jersey London

This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2008. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to http://www.ebookstore.tandf.co.uk/.” Copyright © 2005 by Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by photostat, microform, retrieval system, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc., Publishers 10 Industrial Avenue Mahwah, New Jersey 07430 Cover design by Sean Sciarrone Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Conflict, contradiction, and contrarian elements in moral development and education/edited by Larry Nucci. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8058-4848-7 (cloth) 1. Moral education—United States. 2. Socialization—United States. 3. Conflict (Psychology) in adolescence—United States. 4. Inter action analysis in education. I. Nucci, Larry P. LC311.C49 2005 370.11’4—dc22

ISBN 1-4106-1195-7 Master e-book ISBN

2004047106 CIP

Contents

Preface

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Part I: Resistance and Conflict at a Societal Level in Relation to Socialization and Educational Practice 1 Resistance and Subversion in Everyday Life Elliot Turiel 2 Taking a Stand in a Morally Pluralistic Society: Constructive Obedience and Responsible Dissent in Moral/Character Education Diana Baumrind

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Part II: Resistance, Conflict, and Contrarianism in Youth: Implications for Education and Parenting 3 Who in the World Am I? Reflecting on the Heart of Teaching William Ayers

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4 Adolescent-Parent Conflict: Resistance and Subversion as Developmental Process Judith G.Smetana

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5 Risk Taking, Carnival, and the Novelistic Self: Adolescents Avenues to Moral Being and Integrity Cynthia Lightfoot

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6 Adolescents’ Peer Interactions: Conflict and Coordination Among Personal Expression, Social Norms, and Moral Reasoning Stacey S.Horn

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7. Negative Morality and the Goals of Moral Education Fritz K.Oser

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Part III: Moral Education When Social Injustice and Youth Resistance Converge to Produce Negative Outcomes 8 The Rise of Right-Wing Extremist Youth Culture in Postunification Germany Wolfgang Edelstein

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9 Race and Morality: Shaping the Myth William H.Watkins

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10 Moral Competence Promotion Among African American Children: Conceptual Underpinnings and Programmatic Efforts Robert J.Jagers

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Author Index

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Subject Index

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Preface There has been a surge in interest over the past two decades in issues of moral development and what is referred to as character education. That interest in the topic of moral development and character formation has not abated. A quick search on Amazon.com, for example, turned up 1,026 resuits for “moral education.” Nearly all of these books present a picture of moral growth and education that conforms to the general notion that children should get morally “better” as they develop, and that moral education entails either a process of gradual building up of virtue through socialization into one’s cultural norms (Bennett, 1993; Lickona, 1991; Wynne & Ryan 1993), or movement toward more adequate (better) forms of moral reasoning (Lickona, 1991; Nucci, 2001; Power, Higgins, & Kohlberg, 1989). This understandable emphasis on moral education as moral improvement belies the role of resistance, conflict, and contrarian elements in both the course of individual moral development and moral “progress” at a societal level. The focus of this volume, in contrast, is on the nature and functional value of conflicts and challenges to the dominant moral and social values framework. These challenges emerge in two realms that are not often thought of as relating to one another. On the one hand are the conflicts, challenges, and contradictions that children and adolescents raise in the process of their development. On the other hand are the challenges and contradictions to the dominant social order that occur at the level of society. Both sets of challenges can be viewed as disruptions to normalcy that need to be repaired or suppressed. For example, many social commentators have written about the current period as one of moral decay or decline (Bennett, 1992, Etzioni, 1993). The source of this moral decay is generally traced to the period of social upheaval during the 1960s and the subsequent changes in family structure and public mores. These sentiments were perhaps best expressed by my late colleague Edward Wynne (1987) when he wrote that “By many measures youth conduct was at its best in 1955” (p. 56). From the point of view of such cultural analysts, moral education is sorely needed as an antidote to the perceived moral degeneracy of contemporary society. Alternatively, such resistances can be seen as essential to moral growth at an individual level and moral progress at the societal level. It is the latter perspective that has been overlooked in recent attention to children’s moral development and education, and it is that positive role of resistance that the bulk of the chapters in this volume zero in on. This is not to say that all of the vii

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chapters in this volume take a purely sanguine view of moral and social conflict. In fact some of the chapters pointedly address the risks entailed by social instability and adolescent antinomianism. On balance, however, the volume presents a new look at the role of conflict and resistance for moral development, and its implications for moral education. The book is divided into three parts to help frame the discussion. The first part directly takes up the issue of resistance as it occurs at a cultural level, and the implications of such resistance for moral education and socialization. The second part explores the normative forms of adolescent resistance and contrarian behavior that vex parents and teachers alike. This discussion is within the context of chapters that look at the ways in which parenting and teaching for moral development can positively make use of these normative challenges. The final part brings back the issue of societal structure and culture to illustrate how negative features of society, such as racial discrimination and economic disparity, can feed into the construction of negative moral identity in youth posing challenges to moral education. The book concludes with a chapter presenting an educational program designed to respond to such challenges among African American youth in the United States.

RESISTANCE AND CONFLICT AT A SOCIETAL LEVEL IN RELATION TO SOCIALIZATION AND EDUCATIONAL PRACTICE

The first section contains two chapters that explore the connections between resistances at a sociocultural level and implications for moral education and socialization. In the first chapter, Elliot Turiel makes the case that resistance and subversion are part of everyday life in most cultures, and that they are integral to the process of development. Turiel argues that as an integral part of development, it is necessary that moral education incorporate the ideas of resistance and subversion into their programs. It is also necessary that they be integrated into theories of social and moral development. According to Turiel, most of our theories either fail to account for resistance, and largely treat it as antisocial, or view it as unusual activity sometimes undertaken by those who have reached a high level of development. By contrast, research has demonstrated that social conflict and resistance based on moral aims occur in childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. Turiel draws on research done within hierarchical societies in the Middle East, and from his own childhood experiences growing up in the Mediterranean during World War II to illustrate his points. His position is that especially among adults, conflicts occur over

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inequalities embedded in the structure of social systems: the inequalities inherent in social hierarchies that allow greater power and personal entitlements to some groups (e.g., social hierarchies based on gender, socioeconomic class, ethnic or racial status). In their everyday lives adults come into conflict with others and resist moral wrongs embedded in cultural practices that serve to further the interests of those in higher positions in the social hierarchy. Resistance frequently entails hidden and deceptive actions aimed at transforming aspects of the social system judged unfair and detrimental to the welfare of groups of people. Over the long term, conflict, resistance, and subversion are sources of the transformation of culture. The second chapter is by Diana Baumrind, who is widely known for her work on children’s socialization in relation to patterns of parenting and adult authority. In this chapter she combines those issues with a neo-Marxist analysis of morality and social hierarchy. Many Americans given the outcome of the Cold War have a knee-jerk response to anything labeled Marxist. In Baumrind’s hands, however, the theory speaks to fundamental questions of moral relativism, individual moral growth, and the definitions of moral progress and character. As Baumrind argues, moral ambiguities and uncertainties affecting praxis are not resolvable by appeal to either universalizable, certain, and fixed principles of justice or to cultural norms, but arise from historically and personally situated divergent worldviews that guide actual decision making as well as accepted criteria for validating beliefs. Cultures then may construct radically different moral codes and value systems. Rather than simply accept these irreconcilable differences as a fait accompli, individuals and groups are obliged to adopt and justify a standpoint that should then mandate their moral praxis. In cases where power disparities privilege one group, one is obliged to take the standpoint of the least advantaged. From Baumrind’s point of view, deontologists, such as Kohlberg, fail to acknowledge sufficiently the plurality of real value systems arising from irreconcilable worldviews, whereas culturalists fail to recognize the multiple conflicting standpoints within a culture arising from divergent class interests. She argues that the development of optimal competence and character in children requires the cultivation of the ability to responsibly dissent and accept unpleasant consequences, as well as to constructively comply with legitimate authoritative directives. Baumrind reminds us that the authoritative model of childrearing that she developed was to serve as a viable alternative to both the conservative (authoritarian) model and the liberal (permissive) model of childrearing. From this she makes the case that effective moral and character education must coordinate flexibility, and adult authority in the face of the inevitable and essential challenges from children and youth.

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RESISTANCE, CONFLICT, AND CONTRARIANISM IN YOUTH: IMPLICATIONS FOR EDUCATION AND PARENTING

Five chapters explore the normative conflicts and contrarian actions of youth in relation to peer relations, parenting, and moral education. Two of the chapters deal primarily with schools and teaching, and three chapters focus primarily on issues of youth. In his chapter William Ayers presents an inspirational challenge to teachers and schools to respond to the ethical dimensions of teaching. He employs selections from media, poetry, and his own work with teachers to make the case that all students bring a powerful, expansive question into their classrooms: Who in the world am I? As Ayers makes clear, this question remains largely unstated and implicit. It is, according to Ayers, nonetheless an essential question, opening to the moral in surprising ways on several dimensions. It is a question on one level of identity in formation, but it is also a question that can reveal issues of social ethics as opposed to rule following, convention as opposed to moral reflection, and misbehavior as a sometimes productive form of resistance. With a captivating use of language and examples, Ayers concludes that educators who are animated by this and related questions can find ways to resist the arid, half language that dominates so much of the educational discourse, to activate the intellectual and ethical aspects of classroom life more fully. Ayers’s chapter, which could have been renamed “Talk With Teachers,” is followed by Judith Smetana’s detailed, research-based account of the normal process of adolescent-parent conflict that has its parallel in the classroom resistances of students. Some theoretical viewpoints have stressed the problematic nature of adolescent-parent relationships and have described adolescents as normatively rebellious and as rejecting parental and societal moral values. Smetana’s chapter presents an alternative view. She asserts that adolescent-parent conflict (particularly moderate conflict in the context of warm, accepting relationships with parents) is functional for adolescent development because it promotes the development of adolescents’ greater agency and autonomy. Conflict provides a context for the renegotiation of the boundaries of parental and adult authority, transforming adolescent-parent relationships from hierarchical to more mutual forms and allowing adolescents to construct a more autonomous self. In support of her claims, Smetana presents a rich compendium of research conducted with European American and African American families demonstrating that adolescents’ resistance to adult authority is selective, limited, and developmentally appropriate, and that although adolescents contest adult authority in some domains, they continue to uphold parental and societal authority moral values. This aspect of Smetana’s work is especially provocative and important for moral education because it provides a clear analytic

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framework for knowing when to exert authority, when to negotiate, and when to say “yes” when dealing with adolescent students. Smetana’s chapter moves Baumrind’s agenda forward by more clearly defining the realm of authoritative teaching, and more clearly identifying the moral domain. Cynthia Lightfoot’s chapter extends the issues raised by Smetana by exploring the functional role of adolescent risk taking. Lightfoot’s chapter broadens the scope of inquiry that has examined the developmental significance of risk taking by outlining and illustrating an interdisciplinary, theoretical perspective from which adolescent risk taking is viewed as a moral enterprise. In particular, she employs insights from interpretive developmental approaches, including narrative and cultural psychology and literary theory, that permit an exploration of adolescent risk taking as a meaningmaking process through which different moral discourses are brought into dialogical contact. Lightfoot employs Bakhtin’s distinction between a prior, acknowledged, authoritative discourse and an emerging, experimental, internally persuasive discourse, to argue that adolescent risk taking contributes directly to the further development and articulation of the young person’s future social identity, as well as the awareness that one has a social identity of moral consequence. The chapter makes liberal use of examples from interviews to bring these issues to life. A notable aspect of the chapter is Lightfoot’s account of the development of “low-rider” art among Mexican American youth as a way of working through issues of identity and morality. Whereas Smetana and Lightfoot focus largely on the development of individuals, Stacey Horn’s chapter addresses the problem of interpersonal relations as they play out in the moral drama of peer exclusion and harassment. Perhaps no single issue is as prevalent and as vexing for schools and teachers. Horn’s chapter provides a theoretical framework for beginning to capture the moral and nonmoral aspects of peer exclusion in ways that allow for teachers to begin to sort out what components of such conduct fall within the legitimate desire of children to control their own personal relationships and friendships, and when such conduct goes over the line into psychological and physical harm. Horn’s work demonstrates that children by and large have a moral framework from which they interpret situations of peer exclusion, and that effective educational attempts to regulate such things as bullying should be seen as an aspect of a more general approach to moral and character education. Adding complexity to this issue, Horn describes her recent work exploring issues of peer harassment based on sexual orientation and gender expression. As noted earlier, this section begins with a chapter written by Ayers, an American educator whose focus is on ways in which teachers and schools can make use of the positive tendencies of youth. The section ends with Swiss educator Fritz Oser’s chapter, in which he develops the position that it is only by engaging in moral wrongs and experiencing the effects of such wrongs on others and on one’s self that genuine moral growth is possible. Oser’s radical view is

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the result of a career of efforts to apply developmental discourse in classrooms and schools. From those efforts and his reading of the research literature, Oser concludes that moral discourse in the absence of a direct connection to negative lived experience is superficial at best and wasteful at worst. In his chapter he provides a critique of virtue-based character education as perhaps even more benighted in its reliance on inculcation and traditional socialization. Oser’s thesis is a rather simple one; that one can only grow from one’s mistakes. He makes the point that all other areas of education, such as mathematics, anticipate the negative as an explicit and necessary part of successful pedagogy. An example of what Oser views as successful moral education entails making direct use of lived moral conflicts such as peer harassment or theft as the basis for genuine moral discourse. Through such discourse students are said to integrate emotions within their moral judgments that serve to regulate future moral conduct.

MORAL EDUCATION WHEN SOCIAL INJUSTICE AND YOUTH RESISTANCE CONVERGE TO PRODUCE NEGATIVE OUTCOMES

The final three chapters of the book explore cases where the social inequities of society converge with normative youth resistance to produce negative outcomes for the construction of personal identity and moral conduct. Each chapter explores ways in which education can work toward the moral growth of youth affected by these social cancers. Edelstein’s chapter explores these issues within the context of German reunification. The remaining chapters by Watkins and Jagers focus on racism in the United States. This final section begins with German scholar Wolfgang Edelstein’s analysis of the dismaying effects of reunification on some youth from the former East Germany. As Edelstein describes the years since the downfall of the German Democratic Republic and the reunification of Germany a xenophobic, racist, and anti-Semitic youth movement has become increasingly, and at times, murderously active, especially, but not uniquely, in eastern Germany. Edelstein’s thesis is the conjoining of the two Germanys brought together two greatly disparate economies that engendered both financial and personal humiliation for scores of people from the former East Germany. The youth from families who bore the brunt of this humiliation responded with personal anomie and attendant moral deprivation. As an action of self-defense, these youth often have banded together and treated other even more defenseless people, especially Jews and foreigners, as objects of scorn and physical attack. Edelstein concludes his rather sobering chapter with a discussion of approaches to moral education

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that would reconstruct the personal identities and moral positions of these young people. William Watson follows Edelstein’s chapter with an equally sobering look at the history of American racism as it has played out in the perspectives White America has had of the morality of African Americans, Watson is an educational historian and in his chapter he describes how many current views of the morality of African Americans can be traced back to 19th-century “scientific racists,” who argued that people of color were both intellectually and morally inferior. As Watson argues, unable to conclusively “prove” genetic inferiority, early 20th-century racist educators and eugenicists tenaciously clung to the moral inferiority argument as a basis for subjugation of African Americans. Watson develops the thesis that claims of moral deficiency have provided a rationale for “deficit” theories and manufactured perceptions of people of color for decades. In the chapter, Watson explores how this moral deficit argument has been applied to the education of African Americans over the last 150 years. Watson s chapter forms the backdrop for the chapter by Robert Jagers that concludes the volume. Jagers’s chapter describes an evolving effort to promote social and emotional competence development among school-age African American children. The basis of his educational work builds from an analysis of four racialized personal identities. These identities are discussed in terms of oppression, morality, community violence, and liberation. The chapter explores the developmental implications for children’s moral competence promotion in school and extended hour settings. Jagers discusses student-teacher relationships, curriculum content, and learning contexts as they relate to the potential contributions of low-and middle-income children to the collective well being of the African American community. This coordinated cultural approach is described by Jagers as an avenue for engaging the normative resistance of African American youth with its connection to reality-based judgments of the inequities and injustices that remain within America’s racialized society as an avenue for constructive moral growth. Taken together, this collection of chapters presents a rich counterpoint to the pictures of moral growth as the progressive sophistication of moral reasoning or the gradual accretion of moral virtues and cultural values. Instead, we are presented in this book with a series of chapters based on careful research that moral life is not a straight forward journey, but rather a series of challenges, setbacks, detours, and successes. What we also learn in chapters from Smetana and Lightfoot, among others, is that the challenges posed by youth resistance, including some of what amounts to risk taking, is a normative aspect of development important to the establishment of autonomy and moral identity. Finally, what we find, especially in the chapters by Turiel and Baumrind, is that resistance to what is viewed by adults to be morally and socially right is often morally justified. The task of moral education, as Ayers makes clear, is a humbling endeavor. As we work to do what we think is best for the moral

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growth of our children and students, we must also keep one eye on ourselves and an open mind to the prospect that their resistance to our values may indeed be the more moral course. —Larry Nucci

REFERENCES

Bennett, W. (1992). The de-valuing of America: The fight for our culture and our children. New York: Simon & Schuster. Bennett, W. (1993). The book of virtues: A treasury of great moral stories. New York: Simon & Schuster. Etzioni, A. (1993). The spirit of community: The reinvention of American society. New York: Touchstone. Lickona, T. (1991). Educating for character: How our schools can teach respect and responsibility. New York: Bantam Books. Nucci, L. (2001). Education in the moral domain. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Power, C., Higgins, A., & Kohlberg, L. (1989). Lawrence Kohlbergs approach to moral education. New York: Columbia University Press. Wynne, E., & Ryan, K. (1993). Reclaiming our schools: A handbook on teaching character, academics, and discipline. New York: Macmillan.

Part I Resistance and Conflict at a Societal Level in Relation to Socialization and Educational Practice

1 Resistance and Subversion in Everyday Life Elliot Turiel University of California, Berkeley

Opposition, resistance, and subversion are central aspects of social interactions in most cultures that are largely neglected in most explanations of social and moral development. The focus of research on moral development has been either on socialization into the social system or on the types of judgments made at different ages about matters like justice, welfare, and rights. In this chapter, I present a position on morality that gives a central role to conflict, resistance, and subversion in social relationships. Social relationships are many sided, entailing the application of judgments from several domains. Even within the moral domain, positive orientations to justice and concerns for the welfare of others bring with them conflict, opposition, and resistance in the face of inequalities and injustices. Resistance and subversion are common because social arrangements and practices often embody inequalities. Social resistance and subversion are, therefore, part of most people’s everyday lives and have their roots in childhood. I discuss ways in which resistance and subversion are manifested in childhood, become more salient in adolescence, and are particularly common among adults in positions of lesser power within social hierarchies—that is, people in lower social castes or classes, minorities, and in much of the world, girls and women. Accordingly, moral resistance is not reserved for those at supposed “higher” levels of development or people supposedly classified as special or elite in their personal moral characteristics. As part of everyday life, resistance is not re-stricted to organized social and political movements. Social conditions embedded in cultural practices, social norms, and societal arrangements motivate people to act. However, this is not only in the usual sense of people acting in line with societal expectations; social conditions evoke opposition, resistance, and subversion.

OPPOSITION IN CHILDHOOD AND ADULTHOOD Martin Luther King, Jr. has long been recognized as a great moral leader who spearheaded extremely significant changes toward social justice for African Americans in the United States. However, King himself recognized that social 3

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change is connected with the aspirations of large numbers of people affected by societal injustices. As he put it in his famous letter from a Birmingham (Alabama) jail (King, 1963), “We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed…. Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The urge for freedom will come. This is what happened to the American Negro” (pp. 6, 12). King wrote his letter while imprisoned for leading a nonviolent demonstration in Birmingham, The letter was in response to a public letter sent by eight prominent clergymen admonishing King for his civil rights activities. In the response, King challenged religious and governmental authorities to support protest and demonstrations to combat injustice. Conflict and tension, King (1963) maintained, can serve positive moral ends: I have earnestly worked and preached against violent tension, but there is a type of constructive tension that is necessary for growth…to create the kind of tension in society that will help men to rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood, (p. 5) King also levied a corresponding challenge to psychologists when he addressed the American Psychological Association at its annual meeting in 1967. Recognizing the tendency for psychologists to focus on social adaptation and adjustment, he pointed to the imperative to study ways it is not morally beneficial to fit in socially. As he put it (King, 1968, p. 185), “There are some things in our society, some things in our world, to which we should never be adjusted. There are some things to which we must always be maladjusted if we are to be people of good will.” Many explanations of social and moral development are, indeed, tied mainly to social adjustment insofar as they focus on compliance and internalization of societal norms. If tension in society is needed for social change, and if resistance is part of everyday life, then those theories have serious shortcomings. However, Piaget (1960/1995b) provided a basis for an alternative view to compliance and in-ternalization in his formulation of moral autonomy, by which he meant “that the subject participates in the elaboration of norms instead of receiving them ready-made as happens in the case of the norms of unilateral respect that lie behind heteronomous morality” (p. 315). Piaget proposed that the autonomous morality of late childhood is preceded in early childhood by heteronomous morality, with its norms of unilateral respect. Because norms are ready-made in heteronomous morality, young children presumably do not oppose or defy authorities: “From this it follows, for example, that if distributive justice is brought into conflict with authority…the youngest subjects will believe authority right and justice wrong” (Piaget, 1960/1995b, p. 304). With regard to young children and the origins of morality,

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Piaget’s proposition differs from my own. Young children begin to form moral judgments that are not ready-made and that are not determined by authority, rules, or the customs and conventions of society (Turiel, 1983, 1998, 2002). Furthermore, the origins of opposition and resistance are in early childhood. Young children do not accept authority as right when they contradict justice (Laupa, 1991; Laupa & Turiel, 1986). As an illustrative example, consider the judgments of a 5-year-old boy, as made in a study designed to examine distinctions between the domains of morality (pertaining to welfare, justice, and rights) and social convention (pertaining to uniformities coordinating interactions within social systems). In that study (Weston & Turiel, 1980), children from 5 to 11 years of age were presented with hypothetical stories of preschools depicted as permitting certain actions. One example was that children were allowed, in this school, to be without clothes on warm days (classified as a conventional issues). A second example of an act permitted within a school pertained to the moral issue of physical harm: Children were allowed to hit each other. Whereas most of the children judged both types of acts as wrong prior to the presentation of the hypothetical stories, the majority at all ages judged the school rule regarding clothes acceptable and the one regarding hitting as unacceptable. The findings of the study are consistent with findings from a large body of research documenting that children’s moral judgments differ from their judgments about conventions on a variety of dimensions (which I do not discuss here). For the purposes here, it is judgments about authority in the context of the study that are relevant. Consider the following excerpts of responses by the 5year-old boy. The first excerpt begins with his answer as to whether it is acceptable for the school to allow children to remove their clothes; the second excerpt begins with his answer as to whether it is all right to allow hitting. Yes, because that is the rule. (WHY CAN THEY HAVE THAT RULE?) If that’s what the boss wants to do, he can do that. (HOW COME?) Because he’s the boss, he is in charge of the school (BOB GOES TO GROVE SCHOOL. THIS IS A WARM DAY AT GROVE SCHOOL. HE HAS BEEN RUNNING IN THE PLAY AREA OUTSIDE AND HE IS HOT SO HE DECIDES TO TAKE OFF HIS CLOTHES. IS IT OKAY FOR BOB TO DO THAT?) Yes, if he wants to he can because it is the rule. *** No, it is not okay. (WHY NOT?) Because that is like making other people unhappy. You can hurt them that way. It hurts other people, hurting is not good. (MARK GOES TO PARK SCHOOL. TODAY IN SCHOOL HE WANTS TO SWING

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BUT HE FINDS THAT ALL THE SWINGS ARE BEING USED BY OTHER CHILDREN. SO HE DECIDES TO HIT ONE OF THE CHILDREN AND TAKE THE SWING. IS IT OKAY FOR MARK TO DO THAT?) No. Because he is hurting someone else. (Turiel, 1983, p. 62) Even at the young age of 5 years this boy is of two minds about rules and authority. With regard to clothing, he accepts the rules of the school as stipulated, but with regard to hitting he does not. He judges permitting children to remove their clothes as acceptable because of the rule and because the boss (i.e., the head of the school) has the authority to impose the rule or practice. When it comes to permitting children to hit each other, however, this boy is unwilling to grant the boss the authority to institute or implement the rule. If we looked only at this boy’s judgments about clothing, it might appear that he is compliant (or heteronomous) about school rules and authorities. His judgments about the act of hitting reveal that he makes discriminations between different types of rules or commands and wants to place restrictions on the jurisdiction of a person in a position of authority. In doing so, he expresses opposition to rules and authority from a moral standpoint (autonomy). The responses of this boy indicate that the origins of opposition are in early childhood. Although that study was not designed to examine opposition, other research has shown that children do engage in oppositional activities and get into conflicts with siblings, peers, and parents (Dunn, 1987, 1988; Dunn, Brown, & Maguire, 1995; Dunn & Munn, 1985, 1987; Dunn & Slomkowski, 1992). These oppositional activities exist, in the same children, alongside positive, prosocial actions and emotions. Now consider two examples illustrative of opposition, resistance, and subversion among adults—but implicate children as well. These examples do not come from research, but from recollections in adulthood. The first are my own recollections, and the second come from those of a sociologist from Morocco, as reported in Dreams of Trespass: Tales of a Harem Girlhood (Mernissi, 1994). To place the first example into a cultural context, I need to provide some personal background. I was born on the Greek island of Rhodes (my father’s birthplace), where I lived until I was 6 years old. My family then lived in the city of Izmir in Turkey (my mother’s birthplace) for 2 years. We then moved to New York City. My contacts and knowledge of Greek and Turkish cultural practices were maintained because we were part of a large community of people who had immigrated from Greece and Turkey to New York, and because I went back to those places for extended periods many times (I have also conducted research in Turkey). The most relevant feature of cultural practices for the present purposes is that, for the most part, men were in socially dominant positions and women were in subordinate positions. In my parents’ generation,

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women did not work outside of the home and men had almost exclusive control of the family’s finances. Typically, women were given an allotted amount of money (e.g., a weekly allowance) for household expenses. In many respects, women were not content with the inequalities or the control exerted by their husbands. One of the actions women took to subvert the situation was to, when possible, put some money into places available to them and secret from their husbands. Doing so involved elaborate deceptions, as well as a fair amount of risk. Women had several reasons for maintaining secret funds. It was done so they could have some control over their lives and make purchases without the continual oversight of their husbands. It was done to have resources to help members of their side of the family in times of need. It was also done to ensure that resources would be available in the case of a husband’s death. The last reason was particularly important because laws were highly unfavorable toward widows. The hidden activities I have described were not done in isolation. Women conspired with other women they could trust. In addition, they often discussed their concerns and activities with their children. The second illustrative example, from Fatima Mernissi’s published childhood recollections, shared some of the same features. Mernissi recounted stories from her childhood living in a harem in the city of Fez during the 1940s (Mernissi, 1994). Before relating her story, let me mention that our research has identified another domain that stands alongside the moral and conventional—the domain of judgments about autonomy of persons and boundaries of their jurisdiction (Nucci, 2001). Children form judgments about various activities, including recreational ones that are considered up to individual choice. Although resistance and subversion are grounded in moral judgments, the personal domain can be part of it. When personal prerogatives are systematically restricted in unequal ways, the inequality can turn the personal into moral issues. This can be seen in Mernissi’s story—which on the surface is about the desire of some women to listen to music and dance. On a deeper level, the story is about how in everyday activities there is commitment to combating injustices and inequalities, as well as defiance of those in positions of power. According to Mernissi (1994), the women, who were confined within the walls of the compound they lived in, were prohibited from listening on their own to a radio in the men’s salon; the men kept the radio locked in a cabinet. It seems, however, that while the men were away the women listened to music on that very radio. As it happened, one day Fatima (when she was 9 years old) and her cousin were asked by her father what they had done that day. They answered that they had listened to the radio. Mernissi told the rest of the story as follows: Our answer indicated that there was an unlawful key going around…indicated that the women had stolen the key and made a copy of it…. A huge dispute ensued, with the women being

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interviewed in the men’s salon one at a time. But after two days of inquiry, it turned out the key must have fallen from the sky. No one knew where it had come from. Even so, following the inquiry, the women took their revenge on us children. They said that we were traitors, and ought to be excluded from their games. That was a horrifying prospect, so we defended ourselves by explaining that all we had done was tell the truth. Mother retorted by saying that some things were true, indeed, but you still could not say them: you had to keep them secret. And then she added that what you say and what you keep secret has nothing to do with truth and lies. (pp. 7–8) Mernissi’s tale is a good example of persistence in the pursuit of what is regarded as right. In addition to violating the rules imposed by the men by listening to the radio, the women resisted by refusing to say how the key was obtained in spite of 2 days of interrogation. As told by Mernissi, resistance on the part of the women went beyond recreational activities like listening to music. The women desired freedoms and rights in many respects, and especially the freedom to venture beyond the walls of the compound. The women also desired a future for their daughters with greater freedoms and opportunities than had been available to them. The women conveyed their goals to their daughters directly and indirectly. As an example, one of the lessons Fatima received from her mother pertained to symbolic ways of resistance toward the goal of social change. Fatima’s mother told her the whole crusade against chewing gum and American cigarettes was in fact a crusade against women’s rights as well…“so you see,” said Mother, “a woman who chews gum is in part making a revolutionary gesture. Not because she chews gum per se, but because chewing gum is not prescribed by the code.” (Mernissi, 1994, p. 187) The use of seemingly trivial actions, such as chewing gum, for symbolic purposes occurred in other places and times. Another example can be seen in the activities of women in contemporary Iran. In Iran, women are required to dress in certain ways and cover their faces with veils. They are also prohibited from wearing makeup. However, it is not uncommon for women to defy, in safe public places, the requirements to keep their faces covered and free of makeup. As was the case with the mother’s use of chewing gum, makeup is seen to serve broader purposes in Irart As one woman put it, “Lipstick is not just lipstick in Iran. It transmits political messages” (“Lipstick Politics in Iran”).

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The restrictions imposed by Iranian governmental and religious authorities on women and men are extensive, including prohibitions on ways of dressing, watching videos, listening to music, use of alcohol, and relations between women and men. Moreover, there are serious efforts to enforce these policies, as vividly told by Naipul (1997): “And helicopters flew over Northern Tehran looking for satellite disks, just as the Guards walked in the park to watch boys and girls, or entered houses to look for alcohol and opium” (p. 65). In spite of the risks of detection, many people engage in hidden activities in violation of the prohibitions. There is widespread use of satellite dishes, videocassettes, compact disks, and alcohol. In Iran, too, parents worry about the future of their children. The reflections of an Iranian woman are informative (“Beating the System, With Bribes and the Big Lie,” 1997): We live a double-life in this country. My children know that when their school teachers ask whether we drink at home, they have to say no. If they are asked whether we dance or play cards, they have to say no. But the fact is we do drink, dance, and play cards, and the kids know it. So they are growing to be liars and knowing that to survive in this country we have to be. That’s a terrible thing, and I want to change it. (p. A4)

OPPRESSION AND THE URGE FOR FREEDOM The features exemplified in the various examples I have discussed thus far were writ large in events in Afghanistan that came to great public attention toward the end of 2001. As is well known, the Taliban, which had ruled Afghanistan since 1996, fell in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks in New York and Washington, D.C. on September 11, 2001. While in power, the Taliban imposed severe restrictions on people’s activities. They banned televisions, VCRs, most music, movies, kites, and much more. They banned depictions of living creatures, and required men to have beards. The restrictions imposed on women were the most severe. Women were confined to their homes unless accompanied by a male relative. When venturing out, women were required to be totally covered by a burka. Females were denied schooling and the opportunity to work. Furthermore, females could not receive medical treatment from male physicians—but women could not work as physicians. As a consequence, the health of women suffered greatly. Immediately after the fall of the Taliban, the sense of liberation felt by many women and men was striking. As told in media accounts day after day, the reaction was strong and swift. There was widespread use of the previously banned videos, audiocassettes, televisions, VCRs, musical instruments, birds, and kites. People flocked to newly reopened cinemas and barber shops did a

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brisk business with men shaving their beards. Women quickly mobilized to reopen schools for girls. Women also began looking for work and sometimes participated in organized demonstrations for their rights. Many women did shed their burkas, although there was still fear of the reactions of men to their doing so. It certainly appeared, to use Martin Luther King’s words, that the urge for freedom had come. It also appeared that the urge for freedom had been there, but in a hidden, underground, subversive form. This becomes evident if we merely ask where all the objects (televisions, VCRs, kites, etc.) brought out in such quantities came from. The answer, of course, is that the people had resisted the dictates of the Taliban by hiding many banned objects (e.g., difficult-to-hide objects like televisions were buried in backyards). There were several other examples of resistance and subversive activities that emerged at the time. Artworks, for instance, were preserved by businessmen and museum directors who hid them in basements of their homes and museums (sometimes having secured paintings with bribes). One artist, at least, managed to save many banned paintings of living creatures from destruction by covering them over with watercolors. Women, too, resisted at great personal risks by running, in their homes, secret schools for girls or beauty shops for women. It is still not well publicized that resistance on the part of women from Afghanistan took an organized form. As early as 1977, women organized to fight for human rights and social justice by forming the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA). Their objective was explicitly to involve women in social and political activities pertaining to areas like education, health, work, and politics. RAWA worked within Afghanistan until the Taliban took over (even after the group’s founder and leader was assassinated in 1987). After 1996, RAWA was forced to work in other countries like Pakistan, where they held several demonstrations. Within Afghanistan, members of RAWA documented the activities of the Taliban by surreptitiously taking photographs and making videos to smuggle to members in other countries. Those activities involved great risks, because taking such photographs was illegal and punishable by death. The photographs and videos (which can be found on the group’s Web site, http://www.rawa.org/) reveal the harsh conditions of people’s lives, executions and amputations in sports stadiums, beatings of women for showing a little hair from beneath the burka, and much more. If it were the only example, the reactions of the women and men of Afghanistan could be interpreted as an uncommon reaction provoked by the extreme restrictions imposed by the Taliban. However, all the other examples I have presented (from Morocco, Iran, Greece, Turkey; see also Nussbaum, 1999, 2000, for examples from India and Bangladesh) share key features with the ones from Afghanistan. The examples demonstrate that people resist in social conditions of inequality, injustice, and oppression. Resistance and subversion

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are connected with the domains of moral and personal judgments. Moreover, the examples point to the ways in which children are exposed to a multitude of social experiences. They often receive mixed messages about social norms, laws, cultural practices, relations among authorities (e.g., mother and father, parents and governmental authorities), and about matters portrayed by some as moral virtues (especially honesty and dishonesty, truth and lies). The complex and multifaceted nature of children’s social interactions was captured by Piaget (1951 1/1995a) in his assertion that: Socialization in no way constitutes the result of a unidirectional cause such as the pressure of the adult community upon the child through such means as education in the family, and subsequently in the school…it involves the intervention of a multiplicity of interactions of different types and sometimes with opposed effects, (p. 276)

THE INFLUENCES OF MORALITY ON CULTURES The idea that children’s social and moral development is a function of a multiplicity of different types of interactions is in accord with the proposition that resistance and subversion reflect individuals’ heterogeneous relations to cultural practices, including individuals’ efforts to evaluate and transform those practices. In discussing the multiplicity of social interactions, Piaget (1951/1995a) went on to caution about “sweeping generalizations” in attempting to “make sense of the systems of relations and interdependencies actually involved” (p. 276). However, sweeping generalizations are by no means uncommon when psychologists and others attempt to draw contrasts between cultures. The most familiar set of generalizations is seen in descriptions of differences between Western and non-Western cultures; it is said that Western cultures are primarily individualistic and non-Western cultures are primarily collectivistic (e.g., Markus & Kitayama, 1991; Shweder & Bourne, 1982; Triandis, 1989). By virtue of an individualistic orientation, Westerners place at the forefront freedoms, independence, and rights. Given the emphasis on the individual rather than the group, it may well be that Westerners engage in resistance to cultural practices. It is not expected that non-Westerners would typically engage in resistance, let alone subversive activities, given their emphasis on the group rather than individuals. Within that viewpoint, nonWesterners accept their prescribed social roles, which in turn produces social harmony. The various examples I have presented contradict the proposition that there are shared understandings regarding social roles in a system of interde-pendence in non-Western cultures. Conflicts occur when people are treated unequally,

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hold subordinate positions, and are restricted from exercising their freedoms and rights. People in subordinate positions are not simply content to accept the perspectives of those in positions of power. As put by Okin (1989), “Oppressors and oppressed—when the voice of the latter can be heard at all—often disagree fundamentally” (p. 67). With such fundamental disagreements and the associated conflicts, it does not make sense to characterize cultures through any kind of orientation meant to portray a general set of perspectives held by the group. Philosophers and anthropologists have voiced objections to the prevalent mode of attempting to characterize cultures or communities in these ways. As one example, Nussbaum (1999) asserted that Cultures are not monoliths, people are not stamped out like coins by the power machine of social convention. They are constructed by social norms, but norms are plural and people are devious. Even in societies that nourish problematic roles for men and women, real men and women can find spaces in which to subvert those conventions, (p. H) From an anthropological perspective, Wikan (1991) stated that “the concept of culture as a seamless whole and society as a bounded group manifesting inherently valued order and normatively regulated response, effectively masked human misery and quenched dissenting voices” (p. 290). Research has documented that fundamental disagreements occur within cultures and that resistance and subversion are everyday activities. Studies among Druze Arabs in Northern Israel (Turiel & Wainryb, 1998; Wainryb & Turiel, 1994) and in India (Neff, 2001) have shown that judgments about decision making in the family include many of the features attributed to both individualism and collectivism. For instance, the Druze, who maintain a strong patriarchic structure, do make judgments about duties and social roles. These are attributed especially to females. Druze adolescents and adults think that a wife needs to follow her husband’s directives on the grounds that she should fulfill her duties and social roles. By contrast, they think that a husband does not need to follow his wife’s directives and that he is entitled to freedom of choice, independence, and autonomy. Members of the Druze community are quite aware of cultural expectations regarding male independence. They use terms like freedom, self-reliance, and rights to characterize the cultural perspective on males (see Turiel, 2002; Turiel & Wainryb, 2000). They are also quite aware that holding a subordinate position in the social hierarchy makes deviation difficult because of the serious consequences that might ensue. Nevertheless, adolescent and adult females are critical of those practices, judging them as unfair. Other studies have examined how people act to counter restrictions judged unfair (Abu-Lughod, 1993; Wikan, 1996). Spending considerable time with

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Bedouin groups in a small hamlet on the northwest coast of Egypt, Abu-Lughod (1993) demonstrated that women employ a variety of strategies to get around the unequal restrictions imposed on them by men (husbands, fathers, and brothers). Those strategies pertained to matters like educational opportunities and goals, arranged marriages, polygamy, and the distribution of resources. The Bedouin women did not always obey their fathers or husbands; they did not always adhere to cultural expectations; and disagreements, conflicts, and struggles between females and males were common. As articulated by Abu-Lughod (1993), “The Awlad Ali are patrilineal, but reckoning descent, tribal affiliation, and inheritance through the male line does not foreclose women’s opportunities or desires to shape their own lives or those of their sons and daughters, or to oppose the decisions of their fathers” (p. 19).

DEVIOUSNESS, SUBVERSION, AND THE QUESTION OF HONESTY Opposing decisions of those in positions of power appears to often involve deception. When Nussbaum (1999) stated, “people are devious,” she did so in the context of subversion of conventions (p. 14). In most of the examples I have discussed, there has been an element of deception (e.g., in Mernissi’s [1994] account, in the use of secret bank accounts, in the description by the Iranian mother, and in the activities of people in Afghanistan and RAWA). In several of these examples, the deceptions were apparent to children—and it was even conveyed by parents that dishonesties were necessary and right. Yet, honesty is considered one of the hallmarks of morality in many accounts of virtues and character (Bennett, 1993; Sommers, 1984; Wynne, 1989). From the perspective of virtues and habits of character, honesty is to be highly valued and not to be violated. As the examples I have conveyed suggest, however, honesty and dishonesty entail highly complex philosophical and psychological issues that have been debated for a long time (Bok, 1978/1999). Some philosophers have maintained that the prohibition against lying is absolute (e.g., Kant), whereas others argue that it depends on how it may conflict with other moral ends, such as if truth telling would result in harm. A classic example used in these debates is whether one is obligated to tell the truth to a murderer who asks to be told where his intended victim has gone. These types of musings among philosophers do sometimes have real-life relevance. A well-known example is that people frequently had to decide whether to engage in deception to save people from concentration camps during World War II. The activities of Oscar Schindler and Raoul Wallenberg have been well publicized. Many others, including diplomats from several countries (e.g., Japan, Turkey, Holland) and people who were not in official positions, used deception to save lives. This type of deception has received little attention

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in developmental research. The bulk of the research on honesty has looked at children cheating in games or tests (Grinder, 1961,1964; Hartshorne & May, 1928–1930). A little research has examined what are referred to as white lies— that is, lies to spare the feelings of others (Lewis & Saarni, 1993). There is not much research on judgments about deception to prevent harm or promote justice. Research of that type has been conducted in the realm of medicine. One study, published in a medical journal (Freeman, Rathore, Weinfurt, Schulman, & Sulmasy, 1999) examined the judgments of physicians about deception in the context of medical care. A sample of physicians was presented with a series of hypothetical situations that depicted a doctor who considers deceiving a thirdparty payer (an insurance company or a health maintenance organization) to obtain treatment or a diagnostic procedure for a patient who would otherwise be unable to receive it. Six situations were presented, depicting different medical needs of varying severity (from the most severe of the need of coronary bypass surgery and arterial revascularization to the least severe of cosmetic rhinoplasty). Whereas very few (3%) of the physicians judged deception acceptable for cosmetic surgery, the majority (58% and 56%) judged it acceptable for the two most severe conditions (percentages for the other conditions fell in between). Judgments about honesty and dishonesty, therefore, varied by the situation. We can assume that, in the abstract, the physicians would judge honesty to be good and dishonesty wrong. Nevertheless, many judged deception acceptable in some situations but not other situations. Honesty is not a habit of character applied in a nonreflective fashion. People approach social situations with the type of flexibility of mind that entails a weighing of their various features. In these types of situations physicians judged it necessary to engage in deception to attain the greater good of their patients. (There is evidence that physicians actually do engage in this type of deception; see Wynia, Cummins, VanGeest, & Wilson, 2000.) Perhaps it was the ability to have flexibility of mind that Mernissi’s (1994) mother tried to convey to her when she said that “what you say and what you keep secret has nothing to do with truth and lies” (p. 8). Flexibility of mind is also reflected in the subversive activities of women and men in Afghanistan and Iran, as well as in the deceptive activities of those who saved people from German concentration camps. It is likely that the physicians’ judgments about deception involve a willingness to subvert a system that is perceived to unduly grant power to insurance companies and too little power to the medical judgments of physicians. Nevertheless, the societal context for judgments about deception by the physicians differs from the types I discussed because it does not involve societal arrangements of inequality and dominance and subordination in the social hierarchy. However, we have begun conducting research on judgments about deceptions in the context of inequalities. In that research, which was

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conducted with adults in the United States, we obtained judgments about several situations involving deceptions between wives and husbands. In one version of the situations presented it is only the husband who works outside the home and the wife who engages in deception; in another version of each situation only the wife works and it is the husband who engages in deception. Analyses of the results of this study are still underway. For now, consider findings from two of the situations involving deception. In one, a spouse keeps a bank account secret from the working spouse who controls all the finances. In the other, a spouse with a drinking problem attends meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous without telling the working spouse who disapproves of attending such meetings. With regard to finances (i.e., maintaining a secret bank account), it makes a difference if it is a wife or husband who engages in the deception. The majority of participants (64%) thought that it is acceptable for a wife to have a bank account secret from her working husband who controls the finances. However, the majority (66%) also thought that it is not acceptable for a husband to do so, even when the wife works and the husband does not. It appears, therefore, the structure of power outside the family is taken into account in making these judgments. In other words, a nonworking husband is viewed as having more influence and power than a nonworking wife. The differences in judgments about deception by wives and husbands do not extend to all situations. The large majority (over 90%) judged that deception is acceptable by both wives and husbands when dealing with a drinking problem by attending meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. In that situation, like situations involving physicians’ deception of insurance companies, judgments about welfare override the value of maintaining honesty. I should stress that people in the study were not sanguine about deception between spouses—just as physicians are not content that they may sometimes be compelled to deceive insurance companies. They view deception as undesirable but sometimes necessary to deal with unfair restrictions, especially restrictions imposed by those in greater power and control. The results of these studies indicate that issues revolving around honesty and deception are far from straightforward from a psychological standpoint. To be sure, deception sometimes occurs for self-serving purposes. Nevertheless, the reasons people in engage in deception are multidimensional and motivated by moral goals. The complexities and moral reasons in people’s decisions regarding honesty and dishonesty are often lost when people lament the decline of morality in our youth because so many adolescents admit to dishonesties. This occurs when survey takers, posing questions like, “Have you lied to your parents in the past 12 months?” find that most adolescents honestly admit to having done so. We can ask, would the findings be different if physicians were posed with a similar question: “Have you lied to an insurance company in the past 12 months?” A more productive approach to honesty among youths would be to closely

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examine how they understand moral and personal consideration in relation to persons in authority, including parents and teachers.

CONCLUDING REMARKS The data on judgments about honesty and deception point to flexibilities of mind in applying moral considerations to social situations. The contextual variations in judgments do not reflect situational determinism, but weighing, balancing, and coordinating different social and moral goals. More generally, the types of acts of resistance and subversion evident in several of the nonresearch examples I have described, along with findings from studies with Druze and Bedouin women, reflect flexibilities of mind in the ways people relate to the social world. Social relationships involve a multiplicity of features. Moral and social development, as Martin Luther King, Jr. implied in his address to the American Psychological Association, does not involve a straightforward adjustment to social conditions. Social development is not a process of increasing acceptance of or identification with culture and its norms or practices. This is not to say that people are always or completely at odds with each other, with the culture, or with societal arrangements. It is to say that there is heterogeneity of orientations. Adjustment and acceptance coexist with resistance and opposition. Social harmony coexists with social conflict, discontents, and efforts at changing norms and established practices. The multiplicity of people’s judgments and approaches to the social world means that to adequately understand social development it is necessary, as Piaget proposed, to understand children’s constructions stemming from many types of social experiences. I return, then, to the main idea that resistance and subversion are part of everyday life. As part of everyday life, most people have moral convictions and commitments that they act on in the face of possible social disapproval and serious repercussions. As I have indicated, moral resistance is not the province of a limited number of individuals to be characterized as moral elites. The commitment and conviction of many people to the viewpoints they hold results in some complexities in evaluating differing positions in ongoing debates. If we could say that the few—our moral leaders—have the courage of their convictions in opposition to the many, who simply go along with system, that would constitute a basis for discriminating sides on particular issues. However, conviction and commitment appear in many guises and most often can be seen in people holding opposing views. I can draw from some of my examples: The women of RAWA, as well as many people of Afghanistan, had the courage of their convictions, but so did the Taliban. In the civil rights movements in the United States, Martin Luther King, Jr. had the courage of his convictions, as did many who were involved in demonstrations and protests at the time; however, counterdemonstrators in southern states and elsewhere also maintained their

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positions with conviction even in the face of opposition from the federal government. A clear example of conviction and commitment on opposing sides of civil rights issues was evident in confrontations over the integration of the University of Mississippi in the fall of 1962. Two individuals—James Meredith and Governor Ross Barnett of Mississippi—are illustrative. James Meredith, a Black man, had attended Jackson State University (a Black school) but held back from obtaining sufficient credits to graduate so that he could apply to the University of Mississippi, which has been referred to as the pinnacle of Mississippi’s wealthy segregationist plantation society. Meredith pursued the matter all the way up to the U.S. Supreme Court, which ordered his admission to the university. Meredith’s commitment to equality and integration was paralleled by Governor Barnett’s commitment to segregation. Barnett physically blocked Meredith’s efforts to register at the university several times and publicly proclaimed, “I am a Mississippi segregationist and proud of it.” Moreover, Governor Barnett was unresponsive to President Kennedy’s directives, so Kennedy had to mobilize a large number (more than 30,000) of federal troops and National Guardsmen to be sure that Meredith was safely enrolled in the university. Conviction, commitment, and courage are not features that distinguish between James Meredith and Ross Barnett, nor between the many supporters of each side. We must look elsewhere for the distinguishing features—to the nature of moral argumentation, moral struggle, and most important to the details of the moral evaluations and moral judgments involved. One incident surrounding James Meredith’s efforts to enroll in the University of Mississippi poignantly demonstrates that resistance, subversion, and commitment come from large numbers of people whose involvement often goes unnoticed. Meredith spoke about the incident when he was interviewed on the Morning Edition news show of National Public Radio on the occasion of the 40th anniversary of his enrollment at the University of Mississippi. As introduced by the interviewer, “in the first minutes after he registered Meredith got a message that still brings him to tears.” As told by James Meredith, The most significant thing that happened when I finished registering, came out to go my first class, there was a Black standing in the hall. I thought that looked a little strange. And he had a broom on his arm. When I walked by he turned his body so the broom handle would touch me. And he was delivering, probably, one of the most im-portant messages I ever got at Ole Miss. The message was that we are looking after you—every Black eye is looking after you. That was a greater act of defiance than what I was doing because he could have lost his job for that.

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So it is not only in the acts of famous figures like Socrates, Mahatma Ghandi, and Martin Luther King, Jr. that we see moral defiance, resistance, and subversion. We see it in many people, in people who were not well known as moral leaders with outstanding personal characteristics, such as Oscar Schindler, James Meredith, and an unnamed janitor working at the University of Mississippi.

REFERENCES Abu-Lughod, L. (1993). Writing womens worlds: Bedouin stories. Berkeley: University of California Press. Beating the system with bribes and the big lie. (1997, May 27). New York Times, p. A4. Bennett, W.J. (1993). The book of virtues. New York: Simon & Schuster. Bok, S. (1999). Lying: Moral choice in public and private life. New York: Vintage Books. (Original work published 1978) Dunn, J. (1987). The beginnings of moral understanding: Development in the second year. In J.Kagan & S.Lamb (Eds.), The emergence of morality in young children (pp. 91–112). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Dunn, J. (1988). The beginnings of social understanding. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Dunn, J., Brown, J.R., & Maguire, M. (1995). The development of children’s moral sensibility: Individual differences and emotion understanding. Developmental Psychology, 31, 649–659. Dunn, J., & Munn, P. (1985). Becoming a family member: Family conflict and the development of social understanding in the second year. Child Development, 56, 480– 492. Dunn, J., & Munn, P. (1987). Development of justification in disputes with mother and sibling. Developmental Psychology, 23, 791–798. Dunn, J., & Slomkowski, C. (1992). Conflict and the development of social understanding. In C.U.Shantz & W.W.Hartup (Eds.), Conflict in child and adolescent development (pp. 70–92). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Freeman, V.G., Rathore, S.S., Weinfurt, K.P., Schulman, K.A., & Sulmasy, D.P. (1999). Lying for patients: Physician deception of third-party payers. Archives of Internal Medicine, 159, 2263–2270. Grinder, R.E. (1961). New techniques for research in children’s temptation behavior. Child Development, 32, 679–688. Grinder, R.E. (1964). Relations between behavioral and cognitive dimensions of conscience in middle childhood. Child Development, 35, 881–891. Hartshorne, H., & May, M.A. (1928–1930). Studies in the nature of character. Volume I: Studies in deceit. Volume II: Studies in self-control Volume III: Studies in the organization of character. New York: McMillan. King, M.L., Jr. (1963, April). Letter from Birmingham city jail Nyack, NY: Fellowship Reconciliation. King, M.L., Jr. (1968). The role of the behavioral scientist in the civil rights movement. American Psychologist, 23, 180–186.

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Laupa, M. (1991). Children’s reasoning about three authority attributes: Adult status, knowledge, and social position. Developmental Psychology, 27, 321–329. Laupa, M., & Turiel, E. (1986). Children’s conceptions of adult and peer authority. Child Development, 57, 405–412. Lewis, M., & Saarni, C. (1993). Lying and deception in everyday life. New York: Guilford Press. Lipstick politics in Iran. (1999, August 19). New York Times. Markus, H.R., & Kitayama, S. (1991). Culture and the self: Implications for cognition, emotion, and motivation. Psychological Review, 98, 224–253. Mernissi, F. (1994). Dreams of trespass: Tales of a harem girlhood. Reading, MA: AddisonWesley. Naipul, V.S. (1997, May 26). After the revolution. The New Yorker, pp. 52–54. Neff, K.D. (2001). Judgments of personal autonomy and interpersonal responsibility in the context of Indian spousal relationships: An examination of young people’s reasoning in Mysore, India. British Joumal of Developmental Psychology, 19, 233– 257. Nucci, L.P. (2001). Education in the moral domain. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Nussbaum, M.C. (1999). Sex and social justice. New York: Oxford University Press. Nussbaum, M.C. (2000). Women and human development: The capabilities approach. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Okin, S.M. (1989). Justice, gender, and the family. New York: Basic Books. Piaget, J. (1995a). Egocentric thought and sociocentric thought. In J.Piaget, Sociological studies (pp. 270–286). London: Routledge. (Original work published 1951) Piaget, J. (1995b). Problems of the social psychology of childhood. In J.Piaget, Sociological studies (pp. 287–318). London: Routledge. (Original work published 1960) Shweder, R.A., & Bourne, E.J. (1982). Does the concept of person vary cross-culturally? In A.J.Marsella & G.M.White (Eds.), Cultural conceptions of mental health and therapy (pp. 97–137). Boston: Reidel. Sommers, C.H. (1984). Ethics without virtue: Moral education in America. American Scholar, 53, 381–389. Triandis, H.C. (1989). The self and social behavior in differing cultural contexts. Psychological Review, 96, 506–520. Turiel, E. (1983). The development of social knowledge: Morality and convention. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Turiel, E. (1998). The development of morality. In W.Damon (Series Ed.) & N. Eisenberg (Vol. Ed.), Handbook of child psychology: Vol. 3. Social, emotional, and personality development (5th ed., pp. 863–932). New York: Wiley. Turiel, E. (2002). The culture of morality: Social development, context, and conflict. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Turiel, E., & Wainryb, C. (1998). Concepts of freedoms and rights in a traditional hierarchically organized society. British Journal of Developmental Psychology, 16, 375–395. Turiel, E., & Wainryb, C. (2000). Social life in cultures: Judgments, conflicts, and subversion. Child Development, 71, 250–256. Wainryb, C., & Turiel, E. (1994). Dominance, subordination, and concepts of personal entitlements in cultural contexts. Child Development, 65, 1701–1722.

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Weston, D.R., & Turiel, E. (1980). Act-rule relations: Children’s concepts of social rules. Developmental Psychology, 16, 417–424. Wikan, U. (1991). Toward an experience-near anthropology. Cultural Anthropology, 6, 285–305. Wikan, U. (1996). Tomorrow, God willing: Self-made destinies in Cairo. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wynia, M.K., Cummins, D.S., VanGeest, J.B., & Wilson, I.B. (2000). Physician manipulation of reimbursement rules for patients: Between a rock and a hard place. Journal of the American Medical Association, 283, 1858–1865. Wynne, E.A. (1989). Transmitting traditional values in contemporary schools. In L.P. Nucci (Ed.), Moral development and character education: A dialogue (pp. 19–36). Berkeley, CA: McCutchan.

2 Taking a Stand in a Morally Pluralistic Society: Constructive Obedience and Responsible Dissent in Moral/Character Education Diana Baumrind Institute of Human Development University of California, Berkeley

My standpoint on constructive obedience and responsible dissent in character education will be presented in three sections. In the first section I present the philosophic and metaethical perspective from which I consider the substantive issues discussed in the second and third sections. In the second section I consider the meaning of morality, character, and virtue in the context of moral education. In the third section I address the role of socialization and the disciplinary encounter in guiding the development of character and competence in children.

PHILOSOPHICAL AND METAETHICAL PERSPECTIVE Divergent approaches to moral versus character education are based, implicitly or explicitly, on more encompassing political and philosophical ideologies. Such was explicitly the case for Kohlberg (1981), and it is for me. Kohlberg’s perspective on moral education is rooted in Kantian epistemology and Rawls’s theory of justice; mine in dialectical materialist epistemol-ogy (see Marx [1858/1971] and Engels [1888/1941]) and rule utilitarianism (Mill, 1861/2002). (For a fuller treatment than can be presented here of the issues discussed in this section the reader is referred to Baumrind, 1975, 1978a, 1978b, 1992, 1998). Dialectical Materialism Dialectical materialists seek to understand the driving force of personal and social development, not in the realization of abstract universalizable ideals such as the Kantian categorical imperative, or Rawls’s original position, but instead 21

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within the conflicting tendencies operative in everyday material processes of nature and society. Ontologically Marxist materialism, as opposed to idealism, means that the observable world is real in its own right, deriving its reality from neither a supernatural nor a transcendent source, and independent of mind for its existence. Mind “reflects” the observable world, but in Marxist materialism reflection does not signify a mirror image passively recorded or a reproduction or exact correspondence. The form in which material reality is reflected in consciousness is a product of the active engagement with its surroundings of the living organism, who does not merely perceive directly the appearance of things, but conceives of their interconnections and causes as they relate to his or her purposes. In that sense, although objective truth is absolute, knowledge of truth is provisional and relative, limited as well as illuminated by each one’s purposes and standpoint. We know how well the ideas consistent with our perspective correspond to the true properties of external objects and their relations by how successfully we can produce and change them. Through the effort of production and utilization the “thing-in-itself” becomes a “thing-for-us.” The term dialectical in dialectical materialism expresses the dynamic interconnections of things and the universality of change owing to the fact that all things are composed of opposing forces: A as a process is always becoming not-A. To think dialectically is to emphasize a unity of opposites, and to attempt to synthesize thesis and antithesis. The opposites of mutually exclusive and jointly all-encompassing categories interpenetrate, as with attraction and repulsion, yin and yang, organism and environment, life and death, good and evil. Although the principle of noncontradiction is a precondition for making a logical argument, contradiction is inherent in the natural and social systems to which these arguments pertain. Paradox expresses the unity of opposites in real life. For example, how is one to preach and practice tolerance toward ideas and conduct that are intolerant or intolerable? The Marxist sociopolitical lens through which I view obedience and dissent in moral education and the disciplinary encounter cannot be characterized as either liberal or conservative, although Lakoff (1996), in his consideration of the politics of morality, places my views on these matters firmly in the liberal camp. I applaud the liberal agenda of Rawls (1971) and his followers in their concern for social justice and equitable distribution of resources. However, I oppose the primacy liberals place on personal freedom and rights, exemplified by Dworkin’s (1977) claim that “if someone has a right to do something, then it is wrong for the government to deny it to him even though it would be in the general interest to do so” (p. 269). From where I stand, in that remark Dworkin takes rights too seriously relative to community welfare. In the interest of community welfare (Etzioni, 1993, 2000), I advocate such restrictions on rights in this country as sobriety checks, drug testing for those entrusted with public safety, and mandated disclosures to health workers of serious communicable

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diseases. However, in support of rights, I oppose the draconian provisions of the Patriot Act, which would expand the United States government’s power to punish dissent, search homes and offices, and otherwise undercut the power of the judiciary to check abuses of these broad new powers, I argue for a rule utilitarian as opposed to a deontic theory of justification of such normative judgments as those I propose in later sections 2 and 3 of this chapter, because it is concerned with social utility and affirms the assailability inherent in moral praxis. Moral praxis is assailable because the criteria by which praxis is justified are relative to one’s standpoint, and in that sense are not incorrigible. A standpoint is a perspective from which particular features of reality are brought into sharp perspective and other features are obscured. The emphasis on praxis, that is action informed by judgment, in the Marxist view of morality is animated by its atheism: Because God does not exist it is the responsibility of fallible human beings bereft of the certitude conferred by divine command or secular monistic deontology to generate all the acts of creation, compassion, and justice assigned by theists to God. Deontic Theories of Justification of Normative Judgments Deontic theories of moral justifications are objectivist in that they affirm that there is an ahistorical permanent framework to which we can ultimately appeal in determining the nature of goodness and rightness (see Vokey, 2001, for an excellent treatment of the objectivism-relativism debate). Deontic moral theory as instantiated by Rawls’s (1971) original position is intended to provide an unassailable warrant for a progressive principle of justice that would oppose oppression and favor the least advantaged, on the basis that one runs the risk of being the least advantaged. The original position in which one chooses an option ignorant of one’s status and personal attributes is intended to construct an objective foundation for ethical judgments by means of universally valid criteria for rational assessment that are manifestly acultural, ahistorical, ahedonic, and impartial. However, the original position is an unacceptable cognitive device for validating a substantive claim precisely because it can apply only to counterfactual hypothetical situations and not to the proper province of ethics, which is how one should conduct one’s affairs in the real world. To provide an unassailable warrant for its justice claims deontic theories of justification treat the formal criteria of universalizability and impartiality as constitutive. However, the principle of universalizability fails to do justice to real cultural differences in historically determined values, and the principle of impartiality to the special obligations fiduciaries owe to their clients, and individuals owe their intimates. Neither principle is false, but the truth of each is limited in its application to praxis. Universalist pronouncements cannot establish a social consensus on basic moral premises that does not already exist, and there is no consensus in our

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pluralistic society on what constitutes moral premises. For example, Rawls’s (1971) two basic substantive moral premises—persons are of unconditional value and persons have the right to equal justice in all situations—may seem self-evident. However, they are actually controversial, if only because they make the individual the unit of society, and are not symmetrically balanced by principles that affirm the rights of the collective when these conflict with individual rights. A classic such conflict is between the right of couples to have their desired number of children and the responsibility of the collective to control population, as with the one-child policy in China. There is no neutral descriptive language or overarching foundational framework to which we can appeal to adjudicate such competing moral claims. Contradictory paradigms exist side by side with each standpoint bringing a particular aspect of reality into clear focus by obscuring other aspects. Therefore, ethical beliefs are not objective in the sense that their validity can be universally established by a defensible theory of justification or by social consensus. Worldviews of different people and societies diverge in important respects. How basic these differences in worldview are is both an empirical question and a definitional one of what one means by basic. Are differences in Eastern and Western views concerning how individual life should be valued basic? Note, for example, the Eastern notion of karma as the sum total of the ethical consequences of a person’s good and bad actions that determine his or her fate in this and future lives and the fate of his or her descendants. If life is renewable across generations, or property has symbolic value, as it does in some societies, then the assumption that individual human life should always take priority over property rights is disputable. We may all agree that human life is invaluable and yet differ on such basic issues as abortion, euthanasia, and capital punishment that implicitly treat some lives as disposable. I see no ethical impediment to my acting in accord with my basic values or you with yours, just because we may adamantly disagree. The validity of the principle of impartiality is also limited by real-life considerations. Enlightened partiality to one’s true self-interest and those of one’s primary groups is unavoidable and within limits, socially useful. Individuals know their own interests and those of their familiars better than they do those of strangers. Parents have special obligations to their partners and especially to their children. Elected public officials have fiduciary responsibilities to represent the special interests of their community, and their partisanship to their constituents is a moral failure only when carried to an extreme provincialism. Decentration as impartiality is an unrealizable ideal, whereas coordinating and reconciling the claims of alter with ego is a realizable ideal. To decenter then is not to deny the special claim of self or one’s intimates, but rather to increase progressively the scope of self. As Marx put it poetically in the Paris Manuscripts (1844/1964) and later in The Grundisse (1858/1971), nature—physical and social—is our own body: Physical nature constitutes our

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inorganic flesh, and the social environment our organic flesh. One takes a moral point of view by being cognizant of where one stands and how one’s standpoint may obscure one’s vision from the perspective of differently positioned protagonists, as well as by an enlightened understanding of what truly constitutes one’s own long-term interests. A major objective of socialization agents is to sensitize children to issues of justice and caring, as realized in their daily lives. The ethics of virtue require a rational understanding of what constitutes true self-interest that transforms desire into goodness so that the moral agent wants to do the right thing. How educators construe true self-interest will influence how they resolve conflicts of interest in the school milieu, and present their rationale to children. I argue on empirical grounds that moral considerations of justice and compassion do not exclude self-interest but, on the contrary, are implicit in true self-interest, for at least the following four reasons: (a) reciprocity is a fact of social life and not merely an abstract moral principle; injustice and cruelty as well as compassion and altruism tend to be reciprocated; (b) whether as perpetrator or victim normal individuals are empathic and therefore discomfited by injury and injustice; (c) behaving unjustly or without compassion is internally corrosive, harming one’s long-range development; and (d) the self-other boundary is permeable, so that in poisoning one’s environment, one poisons oneself. For reasons such as these, true self-interest transcends the polarization of prudential and moral concerns. Rule Utilitarian Theories of Justification In place of deontic justification, substantive ethical judgments may be grounded in teleological rule utilitarianism. In concerning himself increasingly with children’s conduct, Kohlberg (1978) found it necessary to presuppose a concern about moral content for its own sake. After giving up Stage 6 as a realizable end state of moral development, Kohlberg moved away from a pure deontic theory of ethics toward a mixed theory with utilitarian components, which arguably is not dissimilar from the teleological rule-utilitarian perspective I endorse. Teleological rule utilitarian theory offers coherent justification for substantive moral claims that pertain to the social conditions and personal attributes that an educator or parent might endorse. A teleological, in contrast with a deontological, theory of justification holds that the criterion of what is morally right and obligatory is the nonmoral value of what is brought into being, that is the comparative balance of good over bad or evil produced in practice. Rule utilitarianism justifies an act as right if it would be as beneficial to the common good (of a particular polity in a specific social context) to have a moral code permitting that act as to operate under a rule that would prohibit that act (see Frankena, 1973). Thus, a rule that allows actions that intuitively are intrinsically harmful and morally repugnant, such as killing an unwanted fetus, on rational grounds may nonetheless be judged by utilitarians to be morally

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justified when the common good (of the social group to whom one pledges allegiance) is thought to be harmed less by a rule endorsing such actions than by a rule endorsing any alternative. By requiring not merely the greatest good, but the greatest good for the greatest number, the principle of justice is included in a rule utilitarian theory of normative ethics. Rule utilitarian theory treats what is right as that which brings about the greatest good (in affording human fulfillment) for the greatest number in the long run. By that criterion the reduction of oppression is a superordinate sociomoral good. By oppression I mean the imposition on some individuals or groups of exploitive constraints on their freedom to choose the conditions of selfformation by other individuals or groups whose purpose is to enhance their own access to resources and their own options to pursue what they regard as a good life. Individuals and societies that deprive some individuals or groups of resources sufficient for normal development, or that produce grossly disproportionate inequities in distribution of resources among individuals or groups, are oppressive. The human capabilities approach (Nussbaum, 1995; Sen, 1985), claims that the goodness of a society can be judged by the extent to which it promotes and expands the valued capabilities of the greatest number of its citizens, depriving none of the basic material and social resources that would enable them to develop their fundamental human capabilities. The standpoint that represents the interests of the oppressed serves the greatest good of the greatest number and is more valid than that of the oppressor by being fairer, more progressive, and less biased (Baumrind, 1998). The standpoint that represents the interests (not necessarily the views) of the oppressed in any culture is fairer and more progressive because the eq-uitable distribution of resources it demands comes closest to meeting the basic human needs of all its members, rather than the whims of a privileged minority. Movement toward more equitable distribution of resources, consistent with the communist ideal “from each according to ability, to each according to need” is progressive because it promotes the greatest good of the greatest number. The standpoint of the oppressed is more comprehensive, and thus less biased in that it requires an understanding of the position of the oppressor, as well as of the oppressed. Whereas those in a subordinate position must heed the interests of their oppressors so that they may adapt to or circumvent those interests, members of the ruling class, gender, or ethnic group, by virtue of their power, are not impelled by an equal necessity to take into account the interests of those whose welfare they control, or to see them as individuated and unique persons. The undesirable social consequences of practices that create relative poverty by magnifying the gap between the rich and poor in access to physical and social resources are to inflict unnecessary suffering and retard the development of the many to advance the interests of the few. In treating gross differential distribution of resources as oppressive and therefore as evil I am making a substantive claim that I have just sought to

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justify rationally by prototypic Enlightenment criteria. However, the criteria that justify my opposition to oppression are internal to the progressive worldview that gives rise to how goodness itself is conceived, and therefore cannot aspire to universality or impartiality. Those whose moral judgments and actions follow from a diametrically opposed standpoint will apply criteria consistent with their standpoint. For example, CEOs who earn upwards of 400 times the salary of their average employee, and therefore who I might invidiously label oppressors, are likely to embrace an opposing superordinate sociomoral good—the survival of the fittest—by which they justify their relative position in the social and economic hierarchy: Their fitness to create wealth by being vastly superior to that of their employees is commensurate with and thus, in their eyes, justifies their advantaged position. Ideological conflicts in the culture wars based on fundamentally divergent class interests and worldviews are not resolvable by Habermasian ideal discourse any more than they are by the monologic idealization of Rawls ‘s original position. Ideal discourse requires a freely chosen communicative level playing field in which advantages of social status and differences in communicative competence are suspended. Habermas (1979, 1993) claimed that when consensual interaction is disrupted by disagreements concerning the truth of contentious assertions or the rightness of norms, agreement can only be restored by a process akin to ideal discourse. Although ideal discourse may be practiced in protected venues such as the Supreme Court and some jury trials, under most adversarial circumstances participants with conflicting interests will instead bring political weapons to bear, and compromises will be made based on relative power. Such compromises, whether in the boardroom or on the playground, seldom result in genuine restoration of consensus. Objectivism and Relativism Scientific method, as understood in a particular historical period, can provide consensual standards of assessment to which divergent schools of thought (e.g., Piagetians, cognitive behaviorists, Vygotskyians) might jointly subscribe. However, moral truths are prescriptions for human flourishing and as such are grounded in evaluative more than empirical criteria. There are no consensual standards about moral truth, no unassailable warrant for ethical principles, no Archimedean point that corresponds to a gods’ eye view of good and evil, and no ahistorical, permanent framework to which we can appeal to adjudicate conflicting claims of goodness or rightness. The truth of the existence of the external world is independent of the perceiving subject, but the same cannot be said of ethical premises. Unlike natural scientific claims, ethical premises cannot be evaluated as true or false, except that what cannot be, should not be. Ethical premises make claims akin to axioms in mathematics, but unlike mathematical axioms, are not self-evident or

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universally recognized truths. Those few ethical premises that are universally recognized truths are grounded in universal socioemotional experiences. Even ethical premises that in the abstract, because of their affective appeal, may have the status of universally recognized truths such as “Don’t kill the innocent” are not consensually validated in practice, as is clearly the case with judgments concerning abortion. Fundamental ethical premises, such as those that divide protagonists in the culture wars, cannot be corroborated or disconfirmed and in that sense they are not objective. However, they must be subject to coherent rational and public criteria. Ethical premises that are not universally recognized as true (and I think there are none) are arbitrary, in the sense of being subject to individual or group discretion, but not in the sense of being inherently irrational. Although substantive moral claims are not made incorrigible by formal criteria, the alternative to deontic objectivity and universalism is not the radical relativism of postmodern subjectivity. Moral agents are obliged to justify ethical judgments with principles derived from within their standpoint precisely because in this pluralistic world their truth is not self-evident. We are each both illuminated and blinded by our historically—and personally—situated standpoint. Moral judgments may, indeed must, be supported with reasons, especially in the absence of consensus. Furthermore, moral agents are obliged to seriously consider divergent standpoints, normative claims, and theories of justification. A Pluralist Sensibility: Tolerance and Its Limits A pluralist sensibility and regard for cultural diversity urges caution in judging the esthetic preferences or the conventions of another culture or individual as repugnant or reprehensible, or its epistemology as irrational (Powers & Richardson, 1996), One may find distasteful a culture’s sleeping arrangements, or which animals it chooses to sacrifice to its appetites or religious practices, or whether it uses shaming or spanking to discipline its children, without finding such practices morally reprehensible. Knowing that the limitations of one’s standpoint obscure certain features of reality to bring certain other features into sharp focus mandates tolerance of opposing ideas. Culture and context can alter the meaning, and therefore within limits moderate the effects, of certain aversive or painful practices. The moral force behind multiculturalism is based on its claim to enhance the rights and respect given to marginalized groups within each society, as well as between cultures, and not on a claim that all cultural norms and imperatives should be treated as equally valid. When in the name of tolerance the culture construct sanctions oppressive and authoritarian power relationships, it diverts attention from the dynamics of privilege and privation within a culture. Practices that are good for some members of a given community may not be good for all its members; what might have advanced the welfare of a culture at one time may not now.

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An acceptance of antinomies (contradiction between two principles that both seem equally necessary and valid) should engender tolerance of standpoints that contradict one’s own, a tolerance, however, that must have limits by those who view oppression as a fundamental moral evil. For example, practices such as female genital mutilation, bride burning, and dowry deaths, even when rooted in cultural traditions and buttressed by moral beliefs, exceed boundaries of tolerance for diversity by anyone who opposes oppression, whether their opposition is grounded in deontological principles, substantive teleological reasoning, or neo-Marxist thought.

MORALITY CHARACTER FORMATION, AND MORAL/CHARACTER EDUCATION The perspective I bring to bear on morality, character formation, and character education although rooted in dialectical materialist epistemology in its acceptance of antinomies and emphasis on praxis, is also indebted to educators such as Montessori, Dewey, and Durkheim. Morality and Character Formation I define morality broadly as the evaluative dimension of human behavior rather than more narrowly as a domain of social judgment, or reducible to a unifying principle such as justice, love, or duty. Morality concerns questions of virtue, character, the good life, and the good society, with an emphasis on obligatory rules of conduct. The province of morality is how one should live one’s life, how one should govern one’s behavior. By “one” I mean primarily oneself, although “should” extends the obligation to others similarly situated, which implies generalizability and enlightened partiality (but not universalizability and impartiality). A person is moral to the extent that ethical considerations are salient and readily activated for processing information and arriving at tacit or intentional decisions. So that moral “shoulds” will in fact guide and motivate one’s praxis, such ideals should be realizable and tied to human welfare concerning what is good for people situated in real time and place. Ethical concepts are created by human beings about themselves to preserve and promote their human capabilities, lessen their suffering and anomie, and bring direction, structure, and meaning to their lives and activities. From a neo-Marxist standpoint that places a premium on praxis (i.e., action informed by knowledge) as central to morality, the formal criteria of prescriptivity and primacy, but not universalizability and impartiality, are constitutive. Prescriptivity mandates an internal duty, preferably by inclination, to act in a certain way. Normative judgments are prescriptive, that is about what should be rather than about what is, but should encompass virtues and values

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that are realizable, and consistent with human nature. Primacy places a premium on the moral dimension of praxis. A moral person experiences ethical directives as internally coercive and consistent claims on the self to act virtuously. Moral agents accept responsibility for the effects their actions have on others and on their own long-range well-being. The moral relevance of intentions resides primarily in the good or evil they lead agents to cause. In one of Bill Watterson’s morally instructive cartoon strips, Calvin asked Hobbes, “Do you think our morality is defined by our actions, or by what is in our hearts?” Hobbes replied, “I think our actions show what is in our hearts.” When we excuse evil actions on the basis of good intentions we condescend to do so on the basis that the actor is immature and therefore not yet privy to the responsibilities or rights of a developed moral agent. Unlike the related constructs of temperament and personality, the construct of character has moral connotations. When the moral connotation is explicit, character may be thought of as personality evaluated, as the moral estimate of an individual. Character is that aspect of personality that engenders accountability, is responsible for persistence in the face of obstacles, and inhibits impulses in the service of a more remote or other-oriented goal that the individual values. Character provides the structure of internal law that governs inner thoughts and volitions subject to the agent’s control under the jurisdiction of conscience. A person’s character includes sentiments of righteous indignation, and conscious pursuit of justice for oneself and oth-ers, as well as of compassion and love, emotional reactions of remorse and shame, disinterested loyalty and the conscious pursuit of order, solidarity, fitness, and well-being. This inclusive perspective on character is consistent with Durkheim’s (1925/1973) approach to character formation. Character formation is concerned with development of virtues. A virtue is a habit one develops by consistently choosing and acting on the good. Virtues are behavioral tendencies and dispositions to act in certain ways across many, but not necessarily all, contexts. Character educators seek to foster an environment conducive to the development of virtuous habits in children. Habits, according to Hume (1739/1960), are customs of the mind, acquired mental functions supported by sentiments resulting in patterns of conduct that are reinforced by repetition. Moral/Character Education Character education in the classroom is a daunting and controversial endeavor. How are children to be introduced to the complexities of moral decision making? When, if ever, is lying, stealing, or killing justified? Is it right to lie to protect family secrets? What, if anything, justifies placing corporatesponsored materials and products in the school? Are parents justified in restricting the freedom of children in ways they cannot restrict each others’ freedom? How is Virginia Durr to be judged when her work together with her husband in fighting

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discrimination in the South was done at the expense of severely neglecting the emotional needs of her own children (see Colby & Damon, 1992, chap. 5, “Virginia Durr: Champion of Justice,” pp. 91–133)? Moral/character education is concerned with character formation, or the development of virtuous habits in children. To an outside observer, the moral education and character education movements appear to ground their educational strategies and view of virtue in divergent political ideologies that pit liberals against conservatives in the culture wars. The character education movement inclines toward a “traditionalist” or conservative view of education as transmitting received wisdom, emphasizing the critical role adults play in reinforcing the virtuous habits that from a traditionalist perspective comprise good character. The moral education movement is “progressive” or liberal in its rejection of directive pedagogy, believing that the school’s moral atmosphere and how teachers treat children contribute more to their level of moral development than directed recitation of the right answers. In the Platonic Kohlbergian tradition, the liberal moral education movement tends to be constructivist in its emphasis on cognition and Socratic methods of teaching, whereas the conservative character education movement, in the Aristotelian tradition, tends to be behaviorist in its emphasis on behavioral control processes by which virtuous habits of obedience, loyalty, and diligence are instilled through extrinsic motivation, exhortation, and strict enforcement of rules of conduct. The virtues valued most highly by the character education movement promote order and stability of the status quo, whereas the virtues most prized by the moral education movement promote critique and transformation. The earliest character education movement of the first three decades of the 20th century embraced a clearly traditional perspective, favoring a top-down structure and teaching methods. They used didactic indoctrination of “10 laws of right living”—self-control, good health, kindness, sportsmanship, self-reliance, duty, reliability, truth, good workmanship, and teamwork. Their conservative ideology was evident in the virtues they omitted—critical thought, courage, independence, and integrity. The results of the Character Education Inquiry under the direction of Hartshorne and May (1928–1930) concluded, according to Kohlberg (1970), that these heavily didactic programs that sought to indoctrinate children against cheating and lying and to encourage helping behavior had no positive long-range effects on conduct. The virtues prized most highly by today’s traditional educators such as Wynne (1997) and Bennet (1993) are similar to those of their progenitors. Selfcontrol, duty, diligence, cooperativeness, obedience, and loyalty are to be inculcated by uncritical transmission and drilling of a fixed doctrine. Teachers in for-character schools today (Wynne & Ryan, 1993) like earlier character educators, rely heavily on extrinsic rewards and punishment to shape children’s thoughts as well as their behavior and are highly directive, manipulative, and psychologically controlling. Their traditionalist perspective appears intended to

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promote a conservative social ideology in support of the status quo, with a focus on “fixing the kids” rather than on social structural inequities that contribute to bad behavior. Objective research on the effects of for-character schools has yet to be done. Wynne (1997) cited Jamie Escalante as “a striking instance of a successful for-character teacher” (p. 67). However, I would call Escalante “authoritative” in his educational approach, rather than a “for-character” teacher (see Matthews, 1988), in that he balanced high demands for achievement and self-control with respect and responsiveness to the individual needs of each child. Escalante served as a model of successful achievement without loss of cultural or personal identity. Still within a traditional framework Lickona’s (1991) comprehensive approach to character education, in my view, is also more authoritative than it is authoritarian. Lickona construes character education as intentional proactive efforts to develop virtuous qualities of character. He set forth a tripartite schema of values—moral knowledge, moral feeling, and moral behavior—and then proposed a comprehensive character education model consisting of 12 mutually supportive strategies intended to encompass the total moral life of the school: The teacher acts as a caregiver, moral model, and moral mentor; creates a caring classroom community using discipline as a tool for developing self-regulation, moral reasoning, and respect; provides many opportunities for student input; promotes ethical reflection on values as issues arise in the classroom; and teaches nonhostile conflict resolution. Parents and community leaders are recruited as partners in extending students’ caring beyond the classroom, Lickona (1996) offered evidence from within the program that this comprehensive approach to fostering virtuous character has been successful in achieving the goals he sets forth. However, evidence by objective critics is not yet available. From a liberal or “progressive” perspective, duty, obedience, and loyalty unmitigated by constructive dissent are problematic attributes. Two early “progressive” approaches to moral education rejected indoctrination of received wisdom: values clarification (Raths, Harmin, & Simon, 1966), a values-neutral approach that enjoyed popular favor in schools; and Kohlberg’s (1970) cognitive-developmental approach, which won the acclaim of scholars. Both were studied intensively and, according to Leming (1997), converged on the following rather pessimistic conclusions: The values clarification approach had a success rate in the 0 to 20% range on a wide array of dependent child outcomes; Kohlberg’s moral discussion approach often found the hypothesized changes in moral reasoning, but did not report significant changes in social or moral character or conduct. The Character Education Project (Schaps, Battistich, & Solomon, 1997) exemplifies a modern program embracing a progressive perspective that has been systematically evaluated by an integrated team of insiders and outsiders (Benninga et al., 1991). It features the creation of a caring community that

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exposes students to prosocial examples and cooperative learning activities, with an intentional focus on involving children in helping relationships. In accord with its liberal philosophy it seeks to promote a democratic consciousness and respect for the dignity, moral agency, and individuality of each child. School incidents and literature are used to develop respect and sensitivity. Studentcentered discipline is used to foster students’ moral reasoning and selfregulation. According to Leming (1993), the results for student behavior were mixed with no difference in incidence of negative behavior and with a program effect in the third-grade sample but not the fourth-grade sample on spontaneous prosocial behavior. Students were found to score higher than control students on sensitivity and use of conflict resolution strategies. However, positive behaviors did not generalize outside the program classrooms, suggesting that the effects were largely situation-specific. You Can’t Say You Can’t Play I would like to see further developed and evaluated an intriguing experiment in character/moral education oblique to the conservative-liberal or traditionalprogressive polarities represented by the programs already discussed. In an effort to combat the exclusion and bullying that create a morally toxic atmosphere in most schools, unless adults strongly intervene in the peer culture, Paley (1992) posted an announcement that read You Cant Say You Cant Play. Most of her young students reacted with disbelief and protest. What will happen to friendship if you cannot pick and choose with whom you will play? How can it be fair for a teacher to interfere with peer play not only in the classroom, but in the school yard? By attacking the evil of exclusion, Paley inflicted a particular moral atmosphere on her students, against the will of most, with the exception, of course, of those who were excluded. There was nothing democratic about the imposition by an adult authority of a rule the legitimacy of which the children questioned. However, Paley did more than make and unilaterally enforce a controversial rule that many of her students regarded as an illegitimate exercise of teacher authority. She sustained a dialogue throughout the year on the legitimacy and meaning of the rule. She created a moral problem with deep meaning and strong affect, provoking children to reflect on the existential experience of loneliness and rejection, the human consequences of the unthinking cruelty children inflict on each other, and the responsibilities and rights of authorities in relation to their youthful charges. Paley’s rule, although never enforced with punishment, expressed unambiguously the moral sentiment and belief of a valued adult, providing a useful perspective from which children could view their actions and examine their social beliefs. By encouraging discussions about the legitimacy and meaning of her rule Paley not only forced children to develop nonexclusionary ways to define friendship, but provoked a need for them to employ moral reasoning to critique an adult-imposed rule.

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The Authoritative Classroom From both Leming’s (1993, 1997) and Benninga’s (1997) accounts it would appear that past moral/character education efforts have not been notably successful, Leming (1993) cautioned against both the traditionalist approach of Wynne’s for-character schools (Wynne & Ryan, 1993) and the progressive approach of values clarification on the basis that neither was likely to change values or character-related behaviors, Benninga’s account suggested that the more effective programs share some of the characteristics found in optimally competent parents—they are neither authoritarian nor permissive, but instead are authoritative in their disciplinary methods and relationships with students. Wentzel (2002) applied Baumrind’s (1991) parenting dimensions of control, maturity demands, democratic communication, and nurturance to understanding teachers’ influence on student adjustment in middle school. She found that these dimensions—in particular adolescent-perceived high maturity demands and nurturance—consistently predicted student motivation and prosocial behavior for boys and girls, and for African Americans and European American children. In describing the Montessori method, Rambusch (1962) illustrated the way in which authoritative control can be used to resolve the antithesis between pleasure and duty, and between freedom and responsibility in the classroom: The discipline resides in three areas in a Montessori classroom: it resides in the environment itself which is controlled; in the teacher herself who is controlled and is ready to assume an authoritarian role if it is necessary; and from the very beginning it resides in the children. It is a three-way arrangement, as opposed to certain types of American education in which all of the authority is vested in the teacher, or where, in the caricature of permissive education, all of the authority is vested in the children, (pp. 49–50) When a child has finished his work he is free to put it away, he is free to initiate new work or, in certain instances, he is free to not work. But he is not free to disturb or destroy what others are doing… It is largely a question of balance. In a Montessori classroom the teacher does not delude herself into believing that her manipulation of the children represents their consensus of what they would like to do. If she is manipulating them insofar as she is determining arbitrarily that this must be done at this time, she is cognizant of what she is doing, which the child may or may not be. (p. 51) The importance of the responsibility in selecting matter for the child to learn is placed in the hands of those adults who are

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aware of what the culture will demand of the child and who are able to “program” learning in such a way that what is suitable for the child’s age and stage of development is also learnable and pleasurable to him. (p. 63) Intuition and Affect in Moral/Character Education To understand and encourage moral praxis it is necessary to recruit intuitive and emotional as well as cognitive processes. A moral intuition is a sudden appearance in consciousness of a moral judgment that something is good or bad without any conscious awareness of searching, weighing evidence, and inferring a conclusion. Intuition occurs effortlessly and automatically by a process not accessible to consciousness, whereas reasoning occurs more slowly, requires effort, and involves steps, most of which are accessible to consciousness. Haidt (2001) presented a reasoned case with some empirical support that for most people the default process for handling moral judgments is typically habitual, automatic, and intuitive, occurring outside of consciousness. Haidt argued with evidence that moral action covaries more with intuitive cognitions and moral emotions than with moral reasoning, and that people rely on their moods and flashes of feeling as guides when making decisions in daily life, reserving fully conscious cognitive judg-ments for circumstances when feelings are conflicted, or when they are called on to justify their intuitively arrived at decisions (e.g., Bargh & Chartrand, 1999; Haidt & Hersh, 2001; Petty & Cacioppo, 1986). Thus the informational assumption about when life begins is arguably an ex post facto justification for an already fully formed and deeply felt intuition about whether abortion is ever morally acceptable. Moral emotions such as empathy and moral indignation often impel action where cognitive reflection alone might not. In the eloquent words of Mario Savio, “There is a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part… And you’ve got to put your bodies on the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus and you’ve got to make it stop” (Goines, 1993, p. 361). Such visceral intuitions, however, are clearly affected by ideology, that is a coherent examined system of factual statements and value judgments. This was certainly true for Savio, whose socialist ideology was formed by a liberal Catholic education and training in political philosophy. Similarly my critique of deceptive research practices (Baumrind, 1964), in particular, Milgram’s (1963) research, was fueled by moral outrage at the indignities Milgram and his confederates inflicted on his subjects. I argued that Milgram’s research was characterized by the very dehumanizing processes it was designed to investigate and that his student confederates exemplified the destructive obedience that Milgram labeled as “shockingly immoral” in his paid volunteers. My vigorous objection to deceptive research practices was clearly emotive, but not merely emotive,

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because it was rationally justified by an articulated system of metaethical and normative considerations (Baumrind, 1975, 1992). The descriptive claim that moral reasoning is less often the cause of moral judgment or conduct than intuitive affect-laden automatic processes is not a prescriptive statement that moral judgments should be made intuitively and automatically. In fact, a prime objective of moral educators should be to encourage children to value rationality, justification, and critical evaluation of conduct—their own, their peers’, their parents’, and their teachers’. Moral educators want children to be motivated by prosocial moral emotions such as empathy and moral indignation, and to acquire reliable habits of good moral character. However, for children to develop as responsible moral agents and to be able to speak truth to power, they must learn how to reflect on and take responsibility for regulating their own conduct and the consequences of their intended actions. Although much of what we think of as moral judgment occurs outside of conscious awareness and is the result of what Tocqueville (1969) called “habits of the heart” (p. 287), the development of virtuous habits requires exercise of rational judgment. The expression of Aristotelian virtues requires the capacity to judge what is the right thing to do at the right time in the right way in the right place. Because they state prescriptive preemptive obligations to act in a certain way, which are intended to bind oneself and may be extended to others, ethical statements are not merely emotive personal expressions. Without trained reasoning even those naturally inclined by a benign disposition reinforced by devoted caregivers cannot be counted on to control hurtful desires and emotions that might be generated by new circumstances. Moral Disengagement, Rationalization, and Hypocricy Perceived self-efficacy in which people believe that they can bring about good outcomes and impede bad outcomes by their actions is critical to moral agency. Bandura (1999) and his colleagues (Bandura, Caprara, Barbaranelli, Pastorelli, & Regalia, 2001) have examined the mechanisms people use to disavow a sense of personal agency, and to disengage moral control by justifying inhumane conduct, disregarding or minimizing the injurious effects of their actions, and dehumanizing those who are victimized. Tsang (2002) recently proposed a model of moral rationalization, the cognitive process by which individuals convince themselves that their behavior does not violate their moral standards. Her analysis helps explain why children in the Hartshorne and May (1928– 1930) studies would not necessarily have interpreted their actions as dishonest, but rather as acceptably disobedient. Batson and colleagues (Batson, Kobrynowicz, Dinnerstein, Kampf, & Wilson, 1997) examined moral hypocrisy, which they defined as the pretense of being in accord with one’s own principles of right and wrong conduct without actually acting accordingly. When faced with completing a boring task or assigning it to the confederate, very few of the

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80 female undergraduates studied chose an alternative to self-interest. The participants typically assigned the boring tasks to the confederate rather than to themselves, even though most judged that either favoring the other or flipping a coin would be the right thing to do. The conclusion I draw from these lines of research on moral disengagement, rationalization, and hypocrisy is not that people are merely self-serving, but rather that for most people much of the time moral principles lack sufficient intrinsic motivating power to govern conduct, even when these principles as abstractions are internalized. At every level of cognitive moral development, opportunities to preserve the sense of moral self without acting on one’s moral beliefs and principles present themselves. Kohlberg (1978) himself later concluded that merely raising the level of moral reasoning does not improve moral behavior. Extrinsic rewards and punishments, including the disapproval and approbation of others, and the desire to please powerful authorities or conform to the wishes of valued peers remain, even for adults, important motivating factors in attaining moral identity.

SOCIALIZATION AND THE DISCIPLINARY ENCOUNTER I now consider the socializing role of adults in the development of children’s competencies and moral character. Agency and Communion in Optimal Competence and Character Character is what it takes to will the good, and competence to do good well, Competence broadly defined is effective human functioning in attainment of personally desired and culturally valued goals. Within limits imposed by their competencies, circumstances, and cultures, moral agents are able to plan their actions and implement their plans; examine and choose among options; and structure their lives by adopting congenial habits, attitudes, and rules of conduct. Optimal competence and moral character require an integrated balance within the individual of two fundamental interpenetrating modalities of human existence—communion and agency. Communion refers to the drive to be of service and connected that manifests itself in caring, cooperative behavior. Agency is the drive for independence, individuality, and mastery that manifests itself in assertive, dominant behavior (Bakan, 1966). Unmitigated by the other, agency or communion is maladaptive: Agency unmitigated by communion marks the egoistic individualist whose lack of concern for others eventually elicits reciprocated harm to the self; communion unmitigated by agency is selfabnegating at best, and at worst characterizes converts who are willing to destroy or be destroyed to serve their in-group. Both compliance, as an aspect of

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communion, and aggression as an aspect of agency, can be functional or dysfunctional, depending on how well each modality is integrated with the other in practice. Functional and Dysfunctional Compliance and Aggression In children behavioral compliance and self-assertiveness are socially desirable behavioral tendencies, whereas dispositional compliance and hostile aggression are problematic. Behavioral compliance requires adapting one’s actions to conform with the direction of another, whereas the attribute of dispositional compliance refers to the internalization of the norm of compliance to established authority and committed acceptance of the norms of the preceding generation. Automatic or total compliance is not the mark of a competent or securely attached child (Matas, Arend, & Sroufe, 1978), and rigid compliance, often present in young children of abusive parents (Crittenden & DiLalla, 1988), is associated with internalizing problem behavior (Kuczynski & Kochanska, 1990). Therefore, although a moderate to high level of behavioral compli-ance from young children is desirable and functional from any standpoint, the desirability of encouraging the development of dispositional compliance in children is more open to dispute because, when predominant, this attribute may result in dysfunctional obedience to unjust authority (Baumrind, 1996), as well as be a sign of insecurity. Bold children are less dispositionally compliant, which means that they are more likely across contexts to test the limits of adult authority and to require forceful parental intervention to secure behavioral compliance, whereas fearful children are more malleable and easily conditioned to inhibit transgression (Dienstbier, 1984). Kochanska distinguished between situational compliance (where children cooperate for instrumental reasons, but without commitment) and committed compliance (where children eagerly embrace the caregiver’s agenda). In Kochanska’s study committed compliance, which I view as a likely index of dispositional compliance, was associated with children’s fearfulness and shyness when they were required to suppress prohibited behavior (Kochanska, Coy, & Murray, 2001). A high level of situational or behavioral compliance is not necessarily an index of dispositional compliance. The importance of reducing children’s level of noncompliance depends on the type of noncompliance. Clinical psychologists focus on defiant noncompliance, whereas developmental psychologists focus on more functional types and levels of noncompliance (Kuczynski & Hildebrandt, 1997; Kuczynski & Kochanska, 1990). From both perspectives, a moderate to high level of behavioral or situational compliance in young children is optimal, although some types of noncompliance are more functional than others. For example, refusals by young children that have self-assertion rather than opposition as their

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primary goal are more competent forms of noncompliance (Crockenberg & Litman, 1990). Less skillful expressions of noncompliance, such as passiveaggressive noncompliance and direct defiance decrease with age, whereas more skillful expressions, such as simple refusal without defiance and negotiation, increase with age (Kuczynski, Kochanska, Radke-Yarrow, & Girnius-Brown, 1987). The task of bringing behavioral or situational compliance in the home to normal levels is a crucial initial step for decreasing other forms of oppositional and antisocial behavior (Barkley, 1981; Loeber & Schmaling, 1985; Lorber & Patterson, 1981). Behaviorist clinicians such as Patterson (1997) have shown that before parents can begin to have a positive influence on increasing children’s prosocial behavior and decreasing their referral problems (e.g., aggression, noncompliance with medical regimens), children must reduce their level of noncompliance with parental directives to normal levels, which from a young child when the mother is present is less than 30%. A higher level of noncompliance with adults’ directives, especially defiant noncompliance, presages later school difficulties, impoverished moral internalization and greater antisocial behavior (Kochanska & Aksan, 1995; Loeber & chmaling, 1985; Lytton, Watts, & Dunn, 1986; Patterson, Reid, & Dishion, 1992). Juvenile antisocial conduct disorder—with its features of defiance, deceitfulness, lack of remorse, impulsivity, and offensive aggression—is a precursor of adult criminality; by contrast developmentally normative oppositional behavior in 2-year-olds and adolescents is not (see Hinshaw & Anderson, 1996). Agentic dispositional tendencies including divergent intelligence, competitiveness, and willingness to dissent are aspects of competence and manifestations of self-efficacy, even though such attributes may conflict with the internalization of some societal norms and perhaps what Kochanska refers to as committed compliance. Just as dispositional compliance is not necessarily adaptive or virtuous, aggression in children is not necessarily dysfunctional or wicked. Berkowitz (1983) distinguished between instrumental aggression that is strategic and not fueled by anger, which he found to be adaptive, and hostile aggression that is emotionally charged, nonstrategic, and generally counterproductive. Pulkkinen (1987) distinguished between offensive and defensive aggression. She found that children who at age 14 aggressed offensively (without being attacked first) at age 20 were characterized by weak self-control and violent criminal behavior. In contrast, children who at age 14 only aggressed defensively (after being provoked) were not characterized by an aggressive personality pattern, and in fact manifested good self-control and school adjustment. Confrontational conflict need not involve hostile aggression. Conflict is a state of opposition or resistance between people. Conflict will have constructive or destructive consequences, depending on how it is manifested and managed. Mismanaged conflict by parents will often elicit hostile aggression, resentment,

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or disengagement from children. Especially during adolescence, constructive engagement in reciprocal communication fosters adaptive conflict resolution (Walker & Taylor, 1991). Unfortunately, too often during adolescence parents disengage or use developmentally inappropriate unilateral power assertion when adolescents assert themselves forcefully as autonomous agents (Sternberg & Dobson, 1987). Resolution of parent-adolescent conflicts may remain unresolved when issues that parents see as prudential or moral and therefore by right and responsibility under their jurisdiction are perceived by adolescents to be in the personal domain and therefore by right under their own jurisdiction (Smetana, 1995). When parents respond to adolescents’ demands for a greater measure of independence and self-reliance with either coercion or disengagement rather than with negotiation or reasoned authority, adolescents may react by defying parental authority or by distancing themselves emotionally. Secure attachment to parents and trustworthy mentors optimizes the developmental goal of individuation during adolescence, as it does in infancy. When children and adolescents test limits they often are seeking more intimacy, not more emotional autonomy. Emotional autonomy may be a healthy expression of personal agency furthering adolescent self-reliance and individuation (Steinberg & Silverberg, 1986), or it may be an expression of detachment and a result of parent-adolescent estrangement (Ryan & Lynch, 1989). Autonomy How the concept of autonomy is construed is central to moral politics and educational philosophy and practice. Piagetian autonomy emphasizes selfgovernance and internal regulation and is contrasted with heteronomy or being controlled by external constraints that are perceived as fixed and imperative. In communitarian thought autonomy is contrasted with social order rather than with heteronomy. Communitarian autonomy is equated with an overemphasis on individual rights and an underemphasis on social responsibility, and order with the social responsibilities and unifying bonds that ensure the common good. The stated aim of the communitarian agenda (Etzioni, 1993, 2000) is to balance the claims of individual conscience and rights, which Etzioni believes the current American milieu overemphasizes, with the collective moral voice of the community to which the individual owes allegiance. Durkheim’s element of autonomy in his theory of moral education embraces a unity of opposites consistent with the Hegelian (Hegel, 1821/1952) and Marxist (Marx, 1845/1941, 1858/1971) dialectic by synthesizing selfdetermination with heteronomy and order. Moral education, according to Durkheim (1925/1973), requires the development of three basic elements of moral character that make for dependability: discipline, attachment, and autonomy. Discipline consists of two character traits, (a) a preference for

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regularity to be developed by structure and regimen in the classroom and home, and (b) a preference for moderation, or respect for the impersonal rightness of moral rules over personal disposition, as this rightness is conveyed by a worthy educator. The second aspect of moral education, according to Durkheim, is attachment to the social group through the faculty of empathy, which by identification with the pain and pleasure of others can enable the student to become altruistic and socially engaged. The third element, autonomy or selfdetermination, develops as the rules of society are internalized by the child. For Durkheim, these moral rules are not initially self-chosen but, instead, are the rules of the educator who rationally explains to the student the need for obeying these particular moral rules in this particular society, and when necessary uses punishment to signal clear disapproval of the violation of these rules. Thus for Durkheim as for Marx (1858/1971), freedom is the appreciation of necessity. Discipline, first outer and then inner, by channeling energy into pursuit of determinate and valued goals consistent with the needs of others, is the precondition of, not the obstacle to, freedom, happiness, and self-determination. Durkheim equated autonomy with rational understanding of moral rules, requiring of teachers that they neither preach nor indoctrinate but instead explain the reasons for rules to children to obtain their “enlightened assent.” He emphasized social conditioning as the source of morality and character formation in children. In his later years, Kohlberg (1978) adopted much of Durkheim’s theory of moral education, even going beyond Durkheim to state that moral education can properly be a form of “indoctrination” without violating children’s rights, provided that children are involved in the rulemaking and value-upholding process. Although Durkheim did not consider the circumstances when constructive dissent should be encouraged in children, he did so with adults. Durkheim’s belief in the need for obligatory rules did not imply uncritical obedience to the status quo, and in fact Durkheim believed fervently in progressive evolution (see Wallwork, 1972, p. 171, on Durkheim) and celebrated the civil disobedience of enlightened individuals such as Socrates and Jesus, He argued that criticism of public opinion or established rules by adults is required when these undermine social solidarity and peaceful coexistence or when they retard progress to a better future state of society. For children, however, Durkheim viewed education as virtually synonymous with socialization, an influence exerted by the adult generation to develop in children the intellectual and moral states required by society as a whole and the social groups of which a child is a member. Socialization Socialization is generally thought of as an adult-initiated process by which young persons through education, training, and imitation, acquire their culture and the habits and values congruent with adaptation to that culture. Through the

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disciplinary encounter, caregivers attempt to induce children to comply with adult standards of proper conduct. Properly conceived, the aim of the disciplinary encounter is to control children’s short-term behavior and to influence, but not determine, their long-term behavior. Although defiance is thought to characterize certain periods of development, namely the negativism of the “terrible twos” and individuation during adolescence, the dialectical interchange between obedience and resistance to authority remains an ongoing theme in adult-child interaction. The short-range objective of the exercise of parental authority is to maintain order in the family subordinated, however, to parents’ ultimate objective, which is to further children’s development from a dependent infant into a selfdetermining, socially responsible, morally agentic adult. The contemporary discipline controversy has resurrected a false polarization between a hierarchical paternalistic authoritarian model that places obedience as the cornerstone in the foundation of character (Hyles, 1972) and a child-centered rights position that demands for children the same civil rights as possessed by adults (Cohen, 1980). The current reincarnation of the false binary opposition between freedom and constraint in childrearing centers on the proper role of punishment, particularly spanking, in the socialization of children. Within this polarity, current antispanking rhetoric (e.g., Hyman, 1990; Straus, 1994) is countered by Christian fundamentalist defense of strict and sometimes punitive parental authority (e.g., Dobson, 1992; Hyles, 1972). Neither pole offers parents or teachers an efficacious model of childrearing today, any more than it did 30 years ago when I developed the authoritative model as a constructive synthesis of the valid insights contained in the authoritarian and the permissive models. Both binary opposites contain a germ of truth: The liberal permissive model, that autonomy and self-will are to be cultivated, not punished; the conservative authoritarian model, that in the interest of social order, discipline, sometimes confrontational and strict, is required to socialize the child’s natural egoistic willfulness. However, each polarized model demonizes the other by failing to distinguish between mitigated and unmitigated agency or communion. The authoritarian model tends to equate willfulness and individuality with unmitigated egoistic aggression, and the permissive model tends to equate behavioral compliance to legitimate authority with submissiveness and destructive obedience. Traditional socialization theories of childrearing and education implicitly assume that the primary goal of parents and educators is to achieve maximum levels of compliance and internalization of adult values. However, not all adults or socialization researchers (e.g., Baumrind, 1983, 1987, 1996; Grusec, Goodnow, & Kuczynski, 2000), assume that uncritical internalization of society’s rules is the prime objective of childrearing or even a worthy one: When adults’ demands are just and their authority is legitimate, a reasonable level of conformity to adult rules is desirable and necessary, especially when the

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child is young. However, when the child’s developmental needs or objectives conflict with adults’ demands, or adults’ demands are unjust or exceed their legitimate authority, children’s competence and moral maturity are appropriately expressed by resistance. Because socialization represents the accommodative force in society, the disciplinary encounter, indeed socialization itself, has limited (although necessary) objectives. Internalization by one generation of the rules of the preceding generation represents the conservative force in society, whereas the impetus for progressive social transformation comes about by the challenges each generation presents to the accepted values, rules, and habits of the previous generation. For parents who want their children to be able and willing to take initiative, negotiate differences, and oppose injustice, behavioral compliance is a necessary but by no means sufficient long-range childrearing objective. For such parents, effective childrearing practices will balance a demand for behavioral compliance (which may require power-assertive confrontation) with oppor-tunities for negotiation and autonomous choice. Moderate power assertion, including use of mild physical or other punishment, in contrast to love withdrawal, can achieve behavioral control without being psychologically intrusive. Psychological control, which includes love withdrawal, unlike powerassertive confrontation, uses subtle manipulation to induce dispositional compliance by covertly managing children’s affect and attitudes. Authoritative disciplinary strategies combine reasoning and responsiveness with overt moderate power assertion to encourage both constructive obedience and responsible dissent. Authoritative parents and educators clearly express their values, enforce directives, and make appropriate demands for mature behavior. By joint use of extrinsic reinforcers and rational justification of negotiable demands, authoritative caregivers attempt to both promote children’s legitimate striving for autonomy and direct their behavior. The authoritative model has much in common with the advice given to parents by the Soviet Marxist educator Makarenko (1954), who was as widely read and acclaimed in the Soviet bloc as Spock was in the United States. Bronfenbrenner, a fluent Russian speaker, became familiar with Makarenko’s work about the same time as I did, bringing his ideas to the attention of American families in an influential book in which he contrasted the individualistic ideology of the world of childhood in the United States with the collectivist ideology of the Soviet Union (Bronfenbrenner, 1970). Makarenko’s (1954) basic thesis was that optimal personality and moral development occur through productive activity with a structured regimen enforced by reasoned and just sanctions in an atmosphere of unconditional commitment infused with affection. Makarenko emphasized the moral responsibilities of parents and educators in nourishing children as they would fruit, not flowers:

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In our day it has been said that children are “flowers of life.” That is good. But rashminded, sentimental people have not taken the trouble to think over the meaning of these beautiful words. Once children are described as “flowers,” it means to such people that we should do nothing but go into raptures over them, make a fuss of them, smell them, sigh over them. Perhaps they even think we should teach the flowers themselves that they are a fragile and “luxury” bouquet… The “flowers of life” should not be imagined as a “luxury” bouquet in a Chinese vase on your tables… No, our children are not flowers of that kind at all. Our children blossom on the living trunk of our life; they are not a bouquet, they are a wonderful apple orchard…. Do not be afraid of it, shake it around a bit, let even the flowers feel a little uncomfortable, (pp. 19–20)

CONCLUDING COMMENTS To evaluate rationally the outcomes resulting from character education programs their desired outcomes in furthering children’s morality and character development must first be made explicit. What is meant by moral education in a classroom context? Do any efforts to promote desirable behavior and reduce undesirable behavior qualify? Should the goals of character education be pursued deliberately or left as part of an implicit hidden agenda? Should moral educators attempt to shape students’ behavior by explicitly inculcating the values that generate that behavior? If so how does one establish a community consensus on which values should be inculcated? These are questions I leave to moral educators to answer, as they must, to proceed with and evaluate their efforts. The classroom is meant to provide a bridge between the personal affective morality of the family and the impersonal morality of political society. The material conditions of a classroom compared to a family milieu require a much higher level of behavioral compliance and conformity from children. These functional virtues are cultivated in the classroom both to maintain an orderly environment conducive to learning and to prepare the child for the impersonal demands of the outside world. Because of pupil heterogeneity, high child-toteacher ratio, and the educational objective of imparting received wisdom, teachers are required to maintain order through a structured regimen and when necessary unilateral power assertion. Because children are required to comply and obey so much of the time it is important for teachers to provide opportunities for creative expression and constructive dissent, as Paley did when she unilaterally proposed and enforced a rule to which her students objected. School structure necessarily provides children with abundant opportunity to

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practice habits of duty, diligence, self-regulation, and self-control. It takes active efforts on the part of teachers to offer children equal opportunities to exercise moral agency, nonhostile self-assertion, and critical thought. In particular, teachers must be sensitive and responsive to expressions of moral indignation in children when directed at what they experience as unjust power assertion by adults or more powerful peers. Although the depth of love and individual attention appropriate in the home setting is not appropriate or sustainable in the typical classroom, it is important for teachers to keep in mind that children flourish best in a caring teaching community. The moral atmosphere of an authoritative classroom is respectful of the student and provides abundant opportunities for the development of democratic skills through interactive discussions and participation in elaborating the norms that govern their conduct, but its governance is hierarchical, not equalitarian. Authoritative teachers will have mastered their subject matter, be responsive to reasoned criticism, and have intimate knowledge of the developmental and individual needs of their students. They, not the students, will remain in charge of the curriculum and rules governing children’s conduct. They will cultivate such habits of the mind and heart as critical thought, the courage to protest perceived injustice, and self-assertive ere-ative expression that will enable students to responsibly dissent as well as obey legitimate authority. Moral educators are best prepared for their task if they can articulate and act in accord with a coherent system of factual statements and value judgments that constitute an ideology. I have argued, however, that the certitude conferred on an ideology by a foundationalist theory of justification, whether grounded in religious beliefs or secular deontic theory, is illusory. Although the Enlightenment conception of rational justifications as context-free is intended to establish an absolute fixed framework for determining goodness, it cannot resolve personal, social, and political disputes with those who reject its foundationalist theory of justification. Fallible human beings who choose an activist life will inevitably be guilty of sins of commission from the standpoint of equally fallible adversaries. Unlike scientific claims, the validity of moral judgments cannot be established objectively, although such judgments can and should be defended rationally. In denying the incorrigible status of any theory of justification of ethical precepts, I am not asserting the opposite, that anything goes, that faith-in-faith is the same as faith-in-reason, that because all personal and cultural narratives are historically situated and many are incommensurable that all are equally right and good. A disputed moral position need not be regarded by its adherents as unassailable to impose on them preemptive obligations to take action consistent with their position. The absence of monologic certitude or dialogic consensus does not justify inertia, accidia, and indifference. Incomplete and fallible as our moral judgments are, their proper function is to guide and direct our practice. Moral authority is conferred not by social consensus or deontic moral certitude,

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but by willingness to fully and publicly commit oneself to act on one’s reasoned and deeply felt moral judgments. It is through purposive activity that we gain profound knowledge of the material and social world, and reveal our own nature. “The philosophers have interpreted the world in various ways; the point however is to change it” (Marx, 1845/1941, p. 84).

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Baumrind, D. (1998). From ought to is: A neo-Marxist perspective on the use and misuse of the culture construct. Human Development, 41, 145–165. Bennet, W. (1993). The book of virtues. New York: Simon & Schuster. Benninga, J.A. (1997). Schools, character development, and citizenship. In A.Molnar (Ed.), The construction of children’s character (pp. 77–96). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Benninga, J.A., Tracz, R.K., Sparks, D., Solomon, V., Battistich, K., Delucchi, L., et al. (1991). Effects of two contrasting school task and incentive structures on children’s social development. Elementary School Journal, 92, 149–167. Berkowitz, L. (1983). Aversively stimulated aggression: Some parallels and differences in research with animals and humans. American Psychologist, 38, 1135–1144. Bronfenbrenner, U. (1970). Two worlds of childhood: US. and U.S.S.R. New York: Russell Sage. Cohen, H. (1980). Equal rights for children. Totowa, NJ: Littlefield, Adams. Colby, A., & Damon, W. (1992). Some do care: Contemporary lives of moral commitment. New York: The Free Press. Crittenden, P.M., & DiLalla, D.L. (1988). Compulsive compliance: The development of an inhibitory coping strategy in infancy. Journal of Abnormal Child Psychology, 16, 585–599. Crockenberg, S., & Litman, C. (1990). Autonomy as competence in 2-year-olds: Maternal correlates of child defiance, compliance, and self-assertion. Developmental Psychology, 26,961–911. Dienstbier, R.A. (1984). The role of emotion in moral socialization. In C.Izard, J.Kagan, & R.B.Zajonc (Eds.), Emotions, cognitions and behaviors (pp. 484–513). New York: Cambridge University Press. Dobson, J. (1992). The new dare to discipline. Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House. Durkheim, E. (1973). Moral education. Glencoe, IL: The Free Press. (Original work published 1925) Dworkin, R. (1977). Takingrights seriously. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Engels, E. (1941). Ludwig Feuerbach and the outcome of classical German philosophy. New York: International Publishers. (Original work published 1888) Etzioni, A. (1993). The spirit of community: Rights, responsibilities, and the communitarian agenda. New York: Crown. Etzioni, A. (2000). Epilogue. In E.W.Lehman, Autonomy and order: A communitarian anthology (pp. 219–236). Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Fowers, B.J., & Richardson, E C. (1996). Why is multiculturalism good? American Psychologist, 51, 609–621. Frankena, W.K. (1973). Ethics. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Goines, D.L. (1993). The free speech movement: Coming of age in the 1960s. Berkeley, CA: Ten Speed Press. Grusec, J.E., Goodnow, J.J., & Kuczynski, L. (2000). New directions in analyses of parenting contributions to children’s acquisition of values. Child Development, 71, 205–211. Habermas, J. (1979). Communication and the evolution of society (T. McCarthy, Trans.). Boston: Beacon Press. Habermas, J. (1993). Justification and application: Remarks on discourse ethics (C. Cronin, Trans.). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

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Haidt, J. (2001). The emotional dog and its rational tail: A social intuitionist approach to moral judgment. Psychological Review, 108, 814–834. Haidt, J.., & Hersh, M. (2001). Sexual morality: The cultures and reasons of liberals and conservatives. Journal of Applied Social Psychology, 31, 191–221. Hartshorne, H., & May, A. (1928–1930). Studies in the nature of character: Vol. 1. Studies in deceit. Vol. 2. Studies in self-control. Vol. 3. Studies in the organization of character. New York: Macmillan. Hegel, G. (1952). The philosophy of right and the philosophy of history. Chicago: University of Chicago, Great Books. (Original work published 1821) Hinshaw, S.P., & Anderson, C.A. (1996). Conduct and oppositional defiant disorders. In E.J.Mash & R.A.Barkley (Eds.), Child Psychopathology (pp. 113–149). New York: Guilford. Hume, D. (1960). A treatise of human nature. Oxford, England: Claredon. (Original work published 1739) Hyles, J. (1972). How to rear children. Hammond, IN: Hyles-Anderson. Hyman, I.A. (1990). Reading, writing, and the hickory stick: The appalling story of physical and psychological abuse in American schools. Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath. Kochanska, G., & Aksan, N. (1995). Mother-child mutually positive affect, the quality of child compliance to requests and prohibitions, and maternal control as correlates of early internalization. Child Development, 66, 236–254. Kochanska, G., Coy, K.C., & Murray, K.T. (2001). The development of self-regulation in the first four years of life. Child Development, 72, 1091–1 111. Kohlberg, L. (1970). Education for justice: A modern statement of the Platonic view. In N.F.Sizer & T.R.Sizer (Eds.), Moral education: Five lectures (pp. 57–83). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Kohlberg, L. (1978). Revisions in the theory and practice of moral development. In W. Damon (Ed.), New directions for child development: Moral development (pp. 52–73). New York: Wiley. Kohlberg, L. (1981). Essays on moral development: Vol. 1. The philosophy of moral development: Moral stages and the idea of justice. San Francisco: Harper & Row. Kuczynski, L., & Hildebrandt, N. (1997). Models of conformity and resistance in socialization theory. In J.E.Grusec & L.Kuczynski (Eds.), Parenting and the internalization of values: A handbook of contemporary theory (pp. 227–256). New York: Wiley. Kuczynski, L., & Kochanska, G. (1990). Development of children’s noncompliance strategies from toddlerhood to age 5. Developmental Psychology, 26, 398–408. Kuczynski, L., Kochanska, G., Radke-Yarrow, M., & Girnius-Brown, O. (1987). A developmental interpretation of young children’s noncompliance. Developmental Psychol-ogy, 23, 799–806. Lakoff, G. (1996). Moral politics: What conservatives know that liberals don’t. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Leming, J.S. (1993). Character education: Lessons from the past, models for the future. Camden, ME: The Institute for Global Ethics. Leming, J.S. (1997). Research and practice in character education: A historical perspective. In A.Molnar (Ed.), The construction of children’s character (pp. 31–44). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lickona, T. (1991). Educating for character: How our schools can teach respect and responsibility. New York: Bantam Books.

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Lickona, T. (1996). Character education success stories: What do they have in common. Cortland, NY: Center for the 4th and 5th Rs. Loeber, R., & Schmaling, K.B. (1985). Empirical evidence for overt and covert patterns of antisocial conduct problems: A meta-analysis. Journal of Abnormal Child Psychology, 13, 337–352. Lorber, R., & Patterson, G.R. (1981). The aggressive child: A concomitant of a coercive system. In J.P.Vincent (Ed.), Advances in family intervention, assessment and theory: An annual compilation of research (pp. 47–87). Greenwich, CT: JAI. Lytton, H., Watts, D., & Dunn, B.E. (1986). Stability and predictability of cognitive and social characteristics from age 2 to age 9. Genetic Social and General Psychology Monographs, 112, 363–398. Makarenko, A.S. (1954). A book for parents. (Daglish, Trans.). Moscow: Foreign Languages Publishing House. Marx, K. (1941). Theses on Feuerbach, XI. In F.Engels, Ludwig Feuerbach and the outcome of classical German philosophy (p. 94). New York: International Publishers. (Original work published 1845) Marx, K. (1964). Economic and philosophical manuscripts of 1844: Paris manuscripts. New York: International Publishers. (Original work published 1844) Marx, K. (1971). The grundisse (D.McLellan, Ed. & Trans.). New York: Harper & Row. (Original work published 1858) Matas, L., Arend, R., & Sroufe, L. (1978). Continuity of adaptation in the second year: The relationship between quality of attachment and later competence. Child Development, 49, 547–556. Matthews, J. (1988). Escalante: The best teacher in America. New York: Holt. Milgram, S. (1963). Behavioral study of obedience. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 67, 371–378. Mill, J.S. (2002). Utilitarianism (2nd ed., G.Sher., Ed.). Indianapolis, IN: Hackett. (Original work published 1861) Nussbaum, M. (1995). Human capabilities, female human beings. In M.C.Nussbaum & J.Glover (Eds.), Women, culture and development (pp. 61–104). New York: Oxford University Press. Paley, V.G. (1992). You cant say you cant play. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Patterson, G.R. (1997). Performance models for parenting: A social interactional perspective. In J.Grusec & L.Kuczynski (Eds.), The handbook of parenting and the transmission of values (pp. 193–226). New York: Wiley. Patterson, G.R., Reid, J.B., & Dishion, T.J. (1992). A social interactional approach: Vol. 4. Antisocial boys. Eugene, OR: Castalia. Petty, R.E., & Cacioppo, J.T. (1986). The elaboration likelihood model of persuasion. In L. Berkowitz (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (pp. 123–205). New York: Academic Press. Pulkkinen, L. (1987). Offensive and defensive aggression in humans: A longitudinal perspective. Aggressive Behavior, 13, 197–212. Rambusch, N. (1962). Learning how to learn: An American approach to Montessori. Baltimore: Helicon. Raths, L.E., Harmin, M., & Simon, S.B. (1966). Values and teaching. Columbus, OH: Merrill.

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Rawls, J.A. (1971). A theory of justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, Belknap Press. Ryan, R.M., & Lynch, J.H. (1989). Emotional autonomy versus detachment: Revisiting the vicissitudes of adolescence and young adulthood. Child Development, 60,340– 356. Schaps, E., Battistich, V., & Solomon, D. (1997). School as a caring community: A key to character. In A.Molnar (Ed.), The construction of children’s character (pp. 127– 139). Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Sen, A.K. (1985). Commodities and capabilities. Amsterdam: North Holland. Smetana, J.G. (1995). Context, conflict, and constraint in adolescent—parent authority relationships. In M.Killen & D.Hart (Eds.), Morality in everyday life: Developmental perspectives (pp. 225–255). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Steinberg, L., & Silverberg, S.B. (1986). The vicissitudes of autonomy in early adolescence. Child Development, 57, 841–851. Sternberg, R.J., & Dobson, D.M. (1987). Resolving interpersonal conflicts: An analysis of stylistic consistency. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 52, 794–812. Straus, M.A. (1994). Beating the devil out of them: Corporal punishment in American families. Lexington, MA: Lexington/Macmillan. Tocqueville, A. (1969) Democracy in America (G.Lawrence, Trans. & J.P.Mayer, Ed.). New York: Doubleday Anchor. Tsang, J. (2002). Moral rationalization and the integration of situational factors and psychological processes in immoral behavior. Review of General Psychology, 6, 25– 50. Vokey, D. (2001). Moral discourse in a pluralistic world. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. Walker, L.J., & Taylor, J.H. (1991). Family interactions and the development of moral reasoning. Child Development, 62, 264–283. Wallwork, E. (1972). Durkheim: Morality and milieu. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Wentzel, K.R. (2002). Are effective teachers like good parents? Teaching styles and student adjustment in early adolescence. Child Development, 73, 287–301. Wynne, E.A. (1997). For-character education. In A.Molnar (Ed.), The construction of children’s character (pp. 63–76). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wynne, E.A., & Ryan, K. (1993). Reclaiming our schools: Teaching character, academics and discipline (2nd ed.). Columbus, OH: Prentice Hall.

Part II Resistance, Conflict, and Contrarianism in Youth: Implications for Education and Parenting

3 Who in the World Am I? Reflecting on the Heart of Teaching William Ayers University of Illinois at Chicago

In the opening scene of the Cohen brothers film Miller’s Crossing (Cohen & Cohen, 1990), Johnny Caspar says, “I’m talkin’ about friendship.” Johnny, a two-bit thug, is struggling to explain to the big crime boss, Leo, how he’s been wronged by an associate mobster, Bernie Bernbaum. The camera lingers on the repulsive and horrifying Johnny—we see the frothy saliva forming in the creases of his thin, menacing smile; we watch him sweat. We are fascinated and disgusted by his insistent physicality and the bizarre case he presents. “I’m talkin’ about character,” he pleads. “I’m talkin’ about—hell, Leo, I ain’t embarrassed to use the word—I’m talkin’ about ethics” (or, as pronounced by Johnny, “e-tics”). Johnny is indeed talking about ethics. Apparently, Bernie Bernbaum is a cheat and a liar. “When I fix a fight,” Johnny proceeds indignantly, “Say I play a three-to-one favorite to throw a goddam fight. I got a right to expect the fight to go off at three-to-one.” Then Bernie Bernbaum hears of the deal, manipulates the situation, brings in out-of-town money, and “the odds go straight to hell.” “It’s gettin’ so a businessman can’t expect no return from a fixed fight,” complains Johnny. “Now, if you can’t trust a fix, what can you trust?” Without ethics, “we’re back into anarchy, right back in the jungle…at’s why ethics are important. It’s what separates us from the animals, from beasts of burden, beasts of prey. Ethics!” Leo is not so sure. How does Johnny know Bernie is the problem, when lots of other people share the same information? Couldn’t someone else be selling him out? No, Johnny assures him, it has to be Bernie: Everyone else in the loop is under his direct control, and, most tellingly, “Bernie’s kinda shaky, ethicswise.” “Do you want to kill him?” asks Leo. “For starters,” Johnny replies. William Bennett, Secretary of Education under President Ronald Reagan, former “drug czar,” and editor of The Book of Virtues (Bennett, 1993), has recently written a book for our times with the forbidding title Why We Fight: Moral Clarity and the War on Terrorism (Bennett, 2002). Reading Bennett on 53

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right thinking is a bit like hearing Johnny Caspar discuss ethics—unreal but nonetheless disturbing. In The Book of Virtues Bennett (1993) gathers together an enormous amount of material Rush Limbaugh hails in a jacket blurb as “a superb collection, certain to fortify you and yours for a lifetime of morality, goodness, and right thinking.” In any collection there is the problem of who and what to include. However, an editor has to choose, leaving readers variously irritated and delighted. Bennett undoubtedly felt himself stretching for inclusion—Rosa Parks is here, for example, and so is a Hanukkah Hymn, and an excerpt from the Dhammapada. On the other hand, he chose to exclude, for example, Toni Morrison and W.E.B.DuBois; the excerpt he includes from Mary Wollstonecraft’s pioneering “A Vindication of the Rights of Women” focuses on a peripheral argument, her faith that we improve ourselves in concert with God’s plans; and the letter he chooses from F.Scott Fitzgerald—a really appalling model of fatherhood—to his daughter advises her, among much else, to make her “body a useful instrument” (Bennett, 1993, p. 226). The proclaimed virtues under consideration here—self-discipline, compassion, responsibility, friendship, work, courage, perseverance, honesty, loyalty, faith—take on a distinctly ideological cast in Bennett’s embrace. Leaving aside what he chooses not to reflect on—say, humility (never!), solidarity, thoughtfulness, integrity, passion, generosity, curiosity, humor, and commitment (forget it!)—look at Bennett’s perspective on work, for example. In 94 packed pages we endure several poems about bees and ants, Bible verses, “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod,” “The Little Red Hen,” “The Three Little Pigs,” “The Shoemaker and the Elves,” “How the Camel Got His Hump”—on and on. They all add up to a scolding on the importance of doing as you’re told, the rewards of acquiescence and compliance, and the necessity of hierarchy and staying at your post no matter what. Theodore Roosevelt writes “In Praise of the Strenuous Life,” and Ralph Waldo Emer-son praises “Great Men.” Booker T.Washington describes his climb “Up From Slavery” and Bennett, without a hint of irony or conflict, introduces him as a “soul who is willing to work—and work, and work—to earn an education” (Bennett, 1993, p. 404). From Shakespeare, Bennett selects this bit of Henry V: “So work the honeybees;/Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach/The act of order to a peopled kingdom” (Bennett, 1993, p. 388). Of course there is no Marx here, but neither do we find Herman Melville, B. Traven, nor Charles Dickens. There’s no Studs Terkel, either, someone who might have relieved the righteous sermonizing and probed the complexities and contradictions of work, the violence it can contain; who might have explored the ways in which human effort can lead to the transformation of people and their world, the ways in which labor can be sometimes liberating, sometimes enslaving. Instead, we are instructed on the natural state of things: Kings rule,

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soldiers fight and pillage, masons build, and porters carry heavy loads. End of story. What Bennett has accomplished is a McGuffey’s Reader for the ideal family of his imagination, a list of dos and don’ts served up in simple stories for simple living—little virtues celebrated at the expense of great ones. There are “Table Rules for Little Folks” and instruction on how to “retire for evening” and “how to conduct our conversations.” Boys and girls, naturally, receive separate instruction: One is informed that “Modest as a violet,/As a rosebud is sweet/That’s the kind of little girl/People like to meet” (Bennett, 1993, p. 28); the other is entreated to “Take your meals my little man,/Always like a gentleman” (p. 43). There are, too, the requisite evil stepmothers and wicked women. Bennett (1993) called this collection a “‘how-to’ book for moral literacy,” and separated the “complexities and controversies” of a moral life from the “basics” (p, 11). Presumably that is why none of the stories he offered attempt to investigate and interrogate the inadequacy of self-knowledge, the conflict and contest between the facts and the aspirations of our identities. He also distinguished lessons in ethics, which he favored, from moral activity, which he advised suspending until maturity. For Bennett it is important that youngsters remain in effect passive recipients rather than active coconstructors of values. This view leads to the claim that “these stories help an-chor our children in their culture, its history and traditions” (Bennett, 1993, p. 12). For Bennett, “our culture” is permanently settled and smug, lacking any sense of unease or obligation to think or question. A big believer in uniculture, Bennett has blinded himself to the vivid, dynamic, colliding, conflicting, and propulsive power of culture as it is experienced and lived by human beings. The ethical world he sees is inert, and largely disembodied. Bennett (1993) noted the “quarry of wonderful literature from our culture and others is deep,” and explained that his collection “is drawn from the corpus of Western Civilization,” material “that American school children, once upon a time, knew by heart” (p. 15). If there is any doubt who “American school children” are in Bennett’s dreams, check out the illustrations: tiny woodcuts and little sketches of farms and fields and frolicking children, all White, The text echoes the vision, giving us children “with golden hair” and the “blue-eyed banditti.” Bennett’s hackneyed nostalgia for a Golden Age in American schools—that rosy period preceding the turbulent 1960s, when schools were strictly segregated and education mainly the prerogative of the privileged— permeates these pages. In Why We Fight: Moral Clarity and the War on Terrorism (Bennett, 2002), his newest effort, we feel the full force of Bennett unleashed. The events of September 11 have unhinged him—the gate is swinging wildly—and his standard sanctimonious sermonizing is delivered here at full volume and with a take-no-prisoners intensity. He wrote the book, he shared, because “I sensed in my bones that if we could not find a way to justify our patriotic instincts, and to

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answer the arguments of those who did not share them, we would be undone” (Bennett, 2002, p. 12). In case we wonder who exactly might “not share” his brand of patriotic values, Bennett named names: the historian Eric Foner, the English professor Stanley Fish, the editors of The New York Times, scholars with whom he disagrees, feminists, and all “members of the peace party”—whoever and wherever they might be. These infidels, he claimed, “have caused damage, and they need to be held to account” (Bennett, 2002, p. 14). The form of his proposed inquisition is left to the imagination, but its scale and direction are clear: “A vast relearning has to take place,” he instructed, one undertaken by everyone everywhere, but the burden of the effort “falls [especially] on educators, and at every level” (p. 149). Bennett’s (2002) greatest fear is “the erosion of moral clarity…as a thousand voices discourse with energy and zeal on the questionable nature, if not the outright illegitimacy, of our methods or our cause” (p. 169). He claimed that “rooting out” the sloppiness and the danger of relativism, postmodernism, multiculturalism, feminism, and left-wing thinking, and “replacing it with healthier growths, will be the work of generations” (p. 70). Clearly, it is the soul and spirit of democracy—those thousand energetic voices—that Bennett, finally, cannot abide. Moral clarity, certainty, dogma: These are best delivered from above. What is fundamentally missing in Bennett is a sense of morality or moral literacy or virtue embedded in a stance, a set of relationships and commitments. We are instructed in rationalist ethics at the expense of relational morality, deprived an angle of regard that enlarges our view. Bennett is the stern father with austere regulations: He rebukes, he scolds, he shows us an iron hand. His moral authority relies for its power on structure, a structure secured by fear and the absence of dissent. Bennett nowhere linked moral stance to moral conduct— especially his own. Which brings us back to Johnny Caspar, talking about ethics. The bully is whining, wheedling, hectoring, and threatening as required. He is comical and menacing in the same gesture. Bennett squarely places responsibility for the “vast relearning” of morality on educators. Is “moral education” gaining or losing in our schools, or in our consciousness? How shaky are we, ethicswise? It seems to me the world of values and moral thinking and behavior is as natural to children as any other, and that moral thought and virtuous action in schools begins with caring and acceptance—a fundamental belief in both the unique value of each human being and the recognition of our shared predicament. Moral action is about more than individual behavior, it is also about questioning and engaging the world we live in. Unlike Bennett, for whom morality is about making sure the establishment does not come “undone,” I believe the fundamental message of the good teacher, inherently a moral one,

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rests on transformation: a changed view of the world and of the student’s self. Who am I? What is my place in this world? The moral effort of teachers is based on seeing each child in this dynamic, growing way—thrusting for life, for learning, for valuing—and finding ways to support the child in that quest. Lillian Weber, founder of the Workshop Center of City College in New York, characterized this as “unreasonable caring, unconditional acceptance.” She also pointed out that “the moral statement is not a statement guaranteeing perfection. The moral statement that releases courage is ‘I’ll try! I’ll try!’” (L.Weber, personal communication, Feb. 12, 1992). When the moral or the ethical is invoked—whether in education, or a meeting of mobsters—it is wise to proceed with caution. To that end, I would offer three simple caveats. First, morality is not a word like other words, a noun like other nouns: It describes an entire realm, one without stable borders. The kingdom of the moral and the ethical is peopled with good guys and bad guys, with heroes, conquerors, exploiters, madmen, and con men, all of whom have evoked elaborate descriptions of morality and a moral universe to justify their efforts. Many have found morality a convenient hammer to beat their opponents into submission. It is simply untrustworthy and unreliable as a word referring to any one, immutable thing, and operates best in context. This brings us to the second caution: It helps to distinguish between morality in general and morality in particular. Didion’s (1961) “On Morality” begins with her struggle to write about the subject at all, until her “mind veers inflexibly toward the particular” (p. 142). She described several events close at hand where people reach out to help each other for no other reason except that is what they were taught, and therefore, knew they should do. Didion called this a “primitive morality,” focused on survival and not on an ideal of goodness. The ideal, for Didion, turns out to be treacherous in two directions, outward and inward. Unlike doing the right thing in specific instances, invoking the ideal good typically involves turning a beneficent gaze outward toward others. Unfortunately, history teaches us that objects of concern are quickly enough reconstructed into objects of coercion; the gleam in the eye of the righteous is a powerful tractor beam foretelling fire and brimstone, death and destruction. Turning inward, on the other hand, brings its own hazards—it can be a move toward self-deception: When we start deceiving ourselves into thinking we want something or need something, not that it is a pragmatic necessity…but that it is a moral imperative that we have it, then is when we join the fashionable madmen, and then is when the whine of hysteria is heard in the land, and then is when we are in bad trouble. And I suspect we are already there. (Didion, 1961, p. 147)

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The third and last caution involves a distinction between humanistic and religious morality. Humanistic approaches begin with the idea that human beings are the measure of all things. As de Zengotita (2003), who teaches at the Dalton School, put it, “all else being equal, every human life is, by nature—that is, simply by virtue of being human—equal in value to every other” (p. 39). Our human task is to make life more robust, more full, and more livable for each human being. Certain religious beliefs, ones that promise a better world, a place without the pain and suffering and hard work of this one, or that value God above humans, can work against the goals of secular humanism. In “Reflections on Gandhi,” Orwell (1949) pointed out the difference between loving God, or humanity as a whole, and loving particular individual persons. “The essence of being human,” he wrote, “is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to commit sins for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening one’s love upon other human individuals” (Orwell, 1984, p. 332). Orwell argued that most people are not, in fact, failed saints, but rather find both fun and sorrow in life and have no interest in sainthood at all, and noted that some who “aspire to sainthood have never felt much temptation to be human beings” (p. 332). When the choice is God or man, Orwell chose the latter, and in actual practice most of us agree. As educators our goal is not sainthood; our task is to fasten our gaze on particular children, our students. In all of this—staying in context, focusing on the specific, valuing each human life as equal to all others—my aim is to think of morality, in education as in any facet of existence, as something worked out on the ground, in the dailyness of lived life. It serves us well to remember the systems of moral thought that preceded us alongside their gaps, failures, and inadequacies. We want to make choices on principle, avoiding the deadening effects of orthodoxy, to embrace moral commitments and at the same time maintain a critical mind. We want to act, yet we need to doubt. This stance asks us to proceed with caution, with humility, and with our eyes wide open to face a chaotic, dynamic, and perspectival world, with hope but without guarantees. Gwendolyn Brooks was Poet Laureate of Illinois for many years, a public intellectual and citizen, a teacher with a huge following of students and other admirers. She won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in the early 1950s, but never left the neighborhood or the themes that animated her entire life—the people, the families, and especially the youngsters of Chicago’s south side. Her most widely anthologized poem is “The Pool Players Seven at the Golden Shovel,” more commonly known as “We Real Cool” (Brooks, 1960). When Brooks passed away there was a moving, daylong memorial celebrating her life and her work at the University of Chicago’s Rockefeller Chapel, where family and friends honored her huge contribution to literature and to humanity. On that day Anthony Walton, one of her students, read a poem he

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had written for the occasion called simply “Gwendolyn Brooks (1917–2000)”1 (Walton, 2000): Sometimes I see in my mind’s eye a four-or fiveyear-old boy, coatless and wandering a windblown and vacant lot or street in Chicago on the windblown South Side. He disappears but stays with me, staring and pronouncing me guilty of an indifference more callous than neglect, condescension as self-pity. Then I see him again, at ten or fifteen, on the corner, Say, 47th and Martin Luther King or in a group of men surrounding a burning barrel off Lawndale, everything surrounding vacant or for sale. Sometimes I trace him on the train to Joliet or Menard, such towns quickly becoming native ground to these boys who are so hard to love, so hard to see, except as case studies. Poverty, pain, shame, one and a half million dreams deemed fit only for the most internal of exiles. That four-year-old wandering the wind tunnels of Robert Taylor, of Cabrini Green, wind chill of an as yet unplumbed degree— a young boy she did not have to know to love. Walton and Brooks set me to wondering about the less visible and yet somehow central dimensions of our work—ethical dimensions embedded in the enterprise of education—from several different angles of regard: from that of the 4-or 5-year-old boy, coatless and wandering; from the perspective of that 10-or 15-year-old on the corner; from the standpoint of the human cargo on a train destined for the cage; and from the point of view of an adult world too often caught up in other matters, indifferent in part, and in other places guided by its theories and its standards, pursuing its well-intentioned but sometimes blinding case studies—“condescension as self-pity.” And suddenly that surprising and oh-so-hopeful denouement, “a young boy she did not have to know to love.” With Miss Brooks on my mind, I turn to the problem of moral education, and see it as a problem that operates and challenges 1 Copyright © 2001. Anthony Walton. Reprinted with permission. Anthony Walton is the author of Mississippi; An American journey. He teaches at Bowdoin College

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us on four levels at once. Formulated as questions, these problems or challenges or contradictions are the following: Where do we locate the moral in education? What is the moral heart of teaching? What can we do to create a positive environment for moral development in our schools, and also in families and communities? What conflicts, difficulties, or dilemmas do youngsters themselves raise in the process of their own moral development?

WHERE DO WE LOCATE THE MORAL IN EDUCATION? The short answer is at the center, and in every fiber, branch, and limb. To attempt to disentangle the moral—matters of right and wrong, normative questions and concerns, aspirations—from education is to do violence to each. Education, of course, is always a realm of hope and struggle. Its hope hovers around notions of a future, and struggles over everything: what that future should look like, who should participate and on what terms, what knowledge and experiences are of most value, who should have access to that valuable stuff, and how. Hope and struggle are manifested and animated each day in every classroom by two powerful, propulsive, and expansive questions that all students, from kindergarten through graduate school, bring with them to school. Although largely unstated and implicit, and often unconscious, these questions are nothing less than essential. Who in the world am I? What in the world are my choices and my chances? These are, in part, questions of identity formation and in part, questions of geography: of boundaries and limits, but also of aspirations and possibilities. When my oldest son was in his first months at college and we were checking in by phone, he told me he was particularly moved by a philosophy course he was taking, “You never told me about Kierkegaard,” he said almost accusingly, and I thought, “That’s not the half of it.” His location in an expanding universe was altered, as it was meant to be. Recognition and growth, the moral possibility, were in play; on the other side lay the degrada-tion of meaning, the narrowing of options—something he had thankfully missed, at least in this instance.

WHAT IS THE MORAL HEART OF TEACHING? The fundamental message of the teacher—the graduate school lecturer, the high school biology teacher, the preschool teacher, and everyone in between—is this: You are a growing, changing being. As you learn, your way of regarding the world will metamorphose, and things will never look quite the same. The good teacher provides recognition and growth, and holds out the possibility of a

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change in direction, the possibility of a new and different outcome: Take this sonnet, this formula or equation, this way of seeing or figuring or imagining, and you must change. There is a moral contract, then, between teacher and students, again largely unstated and improvisational, often implied. Brought to light, made conscious and articulated, it sounds something like this: I will do my best on your behalf; I will work hard and take you seriously on every appropriate level. In turn, you must, by your own lights and in your own way, capture your education for yourself: Seize it, take hold of it, and grasp it in your own hands and in your own time. Committed and aware teachers, engaged in the struggle to understand this contract, must endeavor to accomplish two crucial tasks. One is to convince students there is no such thing as receiving an education as a passive receptor or vessel; to argue that in that direction lies nothing but subservience, obedience, indoctrination, and worse, and that all real education is self-education. The other is to demonstrate to students, through daily effort and interaction, that they are valued, that their humanity is honored, and that their growth, enlightenment, and liberation are education’s core concerns. Teachers, especially good ones, know how difficult such work is. Too many schools are structured in ways that undermine this essential moral contract. Too often our schools, certainly the ones I work in and know best, are organized around the casual disregard of the humanity of their students, places where formal authority supplants moral authority, and rule following is substituted for ethical reflection—reminiscent, in fact, of Bennett’s moral universe. In such places, the toxic habit of labeling students by their deficits and misbehaviors bullies the intellectual and ethical heart of teaching off the stage. The language of such places is revealing: Zero tolerance as an educational policy replaces the teachable moments that present themselves wherever people try to live purposefully together. Likewise, the whole alphabet soup of labeling—EMH, LD, TAG—substitutes for a sense of students as threedimensional creatures. Like ourselves, children are made of dreams, aspirations, interests, and capabilities. Focusing on these qualities expands our understanding; labeling shrinks our view and with it, our awareness and compassion as teachers. That this labeling business has run amok is rarely acknowledged, but it has, and it was perfectly exposed in The Onion, a satirical newspaper. The headline proclaimed, “New Study Reveals Millions of American Children Suffering from YTD—Youthful Tendency Disorder,” A sidebar contained the Ten Early Warning Signs of YTD, behaviors like “Talks to imaginary friend,” or “Subject to spontaneous outbursts of laughter.” A mother is quoted saying she was concerned to learn her daughter was diagnosed with YTD, but relieved to know that she wasn’t a “bad mother” (“New Study Reveals,” 2000).

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Like all cultural satire, this story works because it reveals a deeper truth about the predicament we have created for ourselves. We would do well to remember that all children are unruly sparks of meaning-making energy, always dynamic, in motion, and on a journey. The best teachers know this, and try to be aware of their own quests and their own journeys.

WHAT CAN WE DO TO CREATE A POSITIVE ENVIRONMENT FOR MORAL DEVELOPMENT IN SCHOOLS, AND ALSO IN FAMILIES AND COMMUNITIES? The environment is itself a powerful teacher, the critical variable that classroom teachers can discern, critique, build, and rebuild to everyone’s advantage. A basic, if formidable, task for teachers is to create an environment that will challenge and nurture the wide range of students who actually enter our classrooms, with multiple entry points toward learning and a range of routes to moral action and success. The teacher builds the context; the teacher’s values, instincts, and experiences are worked up in the learning environment. It is essential to reflect on our values, our expectations, and our standards, bearing in mind that the dimensions we work with are measured not just in feet and inches, but also by hopes and dreams, moral reflection, and ethical possibilities. Think about what one senses walking through the door: What is the atmosphere? What quality of experience is anticipated? What technique is dominant? What voice will be expressed? When I was first teaching, I took my 5-year-olds to the Detroit Metropolitan Airport to watch the planes take off and land. I did not have much in mind beyond an enjoyable field trip, but soon discovered that the concourse in any airport has a powerful message for all of us: Move this way, keep moving, move rapidly. To a 5-year-old, the message of the concourse is more specific, and simply says, “Run!” It took me three field trips to realize that my instructions—stick together, hold hands, don’t run—were consistently overruled by the dominant voice of the environment: Run! What does the environment say? How could it be improved? A fifth-grade teacher I know begins each year explaining to his students that he has only three important rules in his classroom: One, you can chew gum—the students are amazed; two, you can wear your hats—the boys in particular look a little ecstatic at this contravening of the official in their tiny, unique, apparently outlaw space; and three, that “This is a community of learners, and you must treat everyone here with respect and compassion—especially when it’s hard to do.”

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What this teacher has done in his corner of this school is to create an environment for moral reflection and ethical action. Mistakes will be made, bad behavior and thoughtless actions will occur, but undergirding all of it is a framework for learning, for embracing the teachable moment. This classroom environment is a place, in the words of the great Joe Cocker tune, of “learning to live together” (Cocker, 1970). Such a process goes on for a lifetime. It is a process begun in the family and potentially continued and expanded in school, and ignored at our collective peril. Contrast this attitude to a sign I saw in a Chicago high school cafeteria: RULES No running. No shouting. No throwing food. No fork fights.

No fork fights? One’s mind boggles, imagining the incident that led to the inclusion of that rule. Beyond that, one wonders, why no fist fights or knife fights? Here we find echoes of Bennett, the small moral matters emphasized rather than the great ones. Where in this environment is there a place for ethical reflection or creation?

WHAT CONFLICTS, CHALLENGES, AND CONTRADICTIONS DO YOUNGSTERS THEMSELVES RAISE IN THE PROCESS OF THEIR OWN MORAL DEVELOPMENT? Too many to enumerate. Just as a 2-year-old must turn his back on his mother and the security of family to find himself—the endless no, no, no; the so-called terrible twos—so a 12-year-old must find herself, in part, by pushing away, broadening her base of affiliation, and finding values, meaning, and a cause to commit to beyond the safety, but also the constraint, of home. Just as adults can be deceived by the 2-year-old’s use of language into thinking we share an entirely common meaning, so, too, can adults be confused by the grown-up bodies and sophisticated intelligence of adolescents, and assume that we share an identical moral space. In reality, the coming of age of the young is always a little scary. The kids are overwhelmed with the changes going on inside themselves and painfully aware of their limitations as they stride into adulthood. Emblematic adolescents in literature and popular culture are often deeply good, acting with the best of intentions and sometimes even heroically; yet at the same time, they are typically uncomfortable with their transformations and surprised by their sudden super powers, and society inevitably misunderstands them: Spiderman and

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Edward Scissorhands immediately come to mind. We adults feel the implied or explicit criticism of our failures, the gaps and deficiencies in the world we have left to them. “You’re hypocrites and liars!” they shout at us, and we cannot stand the sound of it. “We can do it better,” they insist, and we assume a defensive crouch. In The Winter’s Tale, Shakespeare lamented, “I would that there were no age between ten and three and twenty, or that boys would simply sleep out of rest, for there is nothing in between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancestry, stealing and fighting” (Shakespeare, 1611). Knowing what the game is, parents, educators, and the society we create can surely do better. The game can be summed up in two lines from another poem by Brooks called “Boy Breaking Glass” (in Allison et al., 1983): “I shall create! If not a note then a hole. If not an overture then a desecration.” Moral education is, in part, a matter of opening: the creative vent, the inventive mind, the productive option. Openings allow for alternatives to be seen and chosen, and for destructive routes to be challenged and even closed. Education lives an excruciating paradox precisely because of its association with and location in schools. That is because education is about opening doors, opening minds, and opening possibilities. School is about sorting and punishing, grading and ranking, and certifying. Education is unconditional—it asks nothing in return, except that the student seize it and make it his or hers. Education is surprising and unruly and disorderly, whereas the first and fundamental law of school is to follow orders. An educator unleashes the unpredictable, whereas a schoolteacher starts with an unhealthy obsession with classroom management. Ethics is different from conventions, different from simple rule following, in that it involves reflection and thought and judgment. As Bennett proves, one person’s moral principle is another’s dogma, one’s guidelines for the good life nothing more, for another, than genuflection to the status quo. Most of us, most of the time, follow the conventions of our culture. Most Spartans act like Spartans, most Athenians like Athenians. For better or worse, most Americans act like Americans, and we live in a culture that has traditionally valued individuality over interrelatedness. It takes a conscious act, or at least an act of will, to resist. Individual ethics exhort us to be good, and individual virtue is probably a good thing. However, community ethics ask us to wonder how we behave collectively; how our society behaves; and how the contexts of politics, economics, law, culture, and history interact with what we hold to be ethical. Here things become denser and more difficult. Johnny Caspar is trying to be ethical in a corrupt and inhumane enterprise. Is he moral? In what way? During the time of slavery there were surely honest overseers and law-abiding slave owners, but in what sense were they ethical? Everyone knows that all advertising lies some of the time, and most ads lie all of the time, and yet we ignore it. Is this moral? A basic challenge to teachers is to stay wide awake to the world, to the concentric circles of context in which we live and work. Teachers must know

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and care about some aspect of our shared life—our calling after all, is to shepherd and enable the callings of others. Teachers, then, invite students to become somehow more capable, more thoughtful and powerful in their choices, more engaged in a culture and civilization. More free. More ethical. How do we warrant this invitation? How do we understand this culture and civilization? Our principles and ponderings may be philosophical, but moral education is grounded in particulars, which are most exquisitely illuminated by poets and writers. Brooks reminds us again and again that it matters who and what we choose to see. Teachers choose: They choose how to see the world, what to embrace and what to reject, and whether to support or resist this or that directive. As teachers choose, the ethical emerges. James Baldwin (1963) wrote: The paradox of education is precisely this—that as one begins to become conscious one begins to examine the society in which he is being educated. The purpose of education, finally, is to create in a person the ability to look at the world for himself, to make his own decisions, to say to himself this is black or this is white, to decide for himself whether there is a God in heaven or not. To ask questions of the universe, and then learn to live with those questions, is the way he achieves his own identity. But no society is really anxious to have that kind of person around. What societies really, ideally, want is a citizenry which will simply obey the rules of society. If a society succeeds in this, that society is about to perish. The obligation of anyone who thinks of himself as responsible is to examine society and try to change it and to fight it—at no matter what risk. This is the only hope society has. This is the only way societies change, (p. 47) Teachers can be the midwives of hope, or the purveyors of determinism and despair. In Beloved, Toni Morrison’s novel of slavery, freedom, and the complexities of a mother’s love, Schoolteacher, a frightening character with no other name, comes to Sweet Home with his efficient, scientific interest in slaves, and makes life unbearable (Morrison, 1987). Schoolteacher is a disturbing, jarring character for those of us who think of teachers as universally caring and compassionate people. Schoolteacher is cold, sadistic, and brutal. He is all about control and management and maintaining the status quo. He and others like him are significant props in an entire system of dehumanization, oppression, and exploitation. They show us teaching as unfreedom, teaching as linked to slavery. Amir Maalouf ‘s (2003) Samarkand is a remarkable historical novel about the life of Omar Khayam and the journey of the Rubiayat. Toward the end, Howard Baskerville, a British schoolteacher in the city of Tabriz in old Persia at the time

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of the first democratic revolution, explains an incident in which he was observed weeping in the marketplace: “Crying is not a recipe for anything,” he begins, “Nor is it a skill. It is simply a naked, naive and pathetic gesture.” However, he goes on, crying is nonetheless important. When the people saw him crying they figured he “had thrown off the sovereign indifference of a foreigner,” and that they could come to Baskerville “to tell me confidentially that crying serves no purpose and that Persia does not need any extra mourners and that the best I could do would be to provide the children of Tabriz with an adequate education.” “If they had not seen me crying,” Baskerville concludes, “they would never have let me tell pupils that this Shah was rotten and that the religious chiefs of Tabriz were hardly any better” (Maalouf, 1994, p. 234). Both these teachers show us that teaching occurs in context and that pedagogy and technique are not the wellsprings of moral choice. Teaching becomes ethical action as the practice of freedom, guided by an unshakable commitment to working with particular human beings to reach the full measure of their humanity, and a willingness to reach toward a future fit for all. Earlier, I argued that for both teacher and student, education initiates seeing the world in a new way, and so the fundamental message of the teacher begins with the belief that you can change your life and transform your place in this world. As this moral process evolves, a necessary corollary emerges: Transformed, you must change the world. In “The Poet’s Obligation,”2 Pablo Neruda (1975) advised his fellow poets: To whoever is not listening to the sea This Friday morning, to whoever is cooped up In house or office, factory Or street or mine or dry prison cell, To him I come and without speaking or looking I arrive and open the door or his prison, And a vibration starts up, vague and insistent, A long rumble of thunder adds itself To the weight of the planet and the foam, The groaning rivers of the ocean rise, The star vibrates quickly in its corona And the sea beats, dies, and goes on beating. So, drawn on by my destiny, I ceaselessly must listen to and keep The sea’s lamenting in my consciousness, 2 From “Fully Empowered,” by P.Neruda, 1975, appearing in Journal of Moral Education. Copyright © 2004 by Farrar, Straus & Giroux. Reprinted with ermission.

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I must feel the crash of the hard water And gather it up in a perpetual cup So that, wherever those in prison may be, Wherever they suffer the sentence of the autumn, I may be present with an errant wave, I move in and out of windows, And hearing me, eyes may lift themselves, Asking “How can I reach the sea?” And I will pass to them, saying nothing, The starry echoes of the wave, A breaking up of foam and quicksand, A resulting of salt withdrawing itself, The gray cry of sea birds on the coast. So, through me, freedom and the sea Will call in answer to the shrouded heart. If we understand the dry prison cell to be ignorance, cynicism, hopelessness, and all the entanglements of mystification and easy belief, and if we consider the sea’s lamenting and the errant wave to represent a wider world and the hope for human liberation, then we recognize this as the teacher’s obligation as well, and further, the activist’s obligation, the obligation of every purposeful life. We must act, for we cannot pretend to be neutral on a moving train. However, our actions should be tempered with doubt, with the possibility that we have not got it right. We struggle to be wide awake to a dynamic, complex, and perspectival world. We work to improve life on the ground: right here, right now, in the particulars of daily life. Martin Luther King, Jr. argued that the arc of the moral universe is long, but that it bends toward justice. This is not a scientific conclusion nor an established fact, but rather an inspired expression of hope for a world that could be, but is not yet, a world that requires all of us to act on behalf of freedom and enlightenment. It is a hope for humanity itself.

REFERENCES Allison, A.W. et al. (Eds.). (1983). The Norton anthology of poetry (3rd ed.). New York: Norton. Baldwin, J. (1963, December 21). A talk with teachers. Saturday Review. Bennett, W.J. (1993). The book of virtues: A treasury of great moral stories. New York: Simon & Schuster. Bennett, W.J. (2002). Why we fight: Moral clarity and the war on terrorism. New York: Doubleday. Brooks, G. (1960). The bean players. New York: Harpers Press.

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Cocker, J. (1970). Space captain [Recorded by Mushroom]. On Mad dogs and San Franciscans [CD]. Oakland, CA: Black Beauty. (2003). Cohen, E., & Cohen, J. (1990). Millers crossing [Motion picture]. United States: 20th Century Fox. de Zengotita, T. (2003, January). Common ground: Finding our way back to the enlightenment. Harpers Magazine, 306(1832), 35–44. Didion, J. (1961). Slouching towards Bethlehem. New York: Random House. Dolan, F.E. (1971). The Pelican Shakespeare: The winter’s tale. New York: Penguin. Maalouf, A. (1994). Samarkand (R.Harris, Trans.). London: Abacus. Morrison, T. (1987). Beloved. London: Vintage/Random House. Neruda, P. (1975). “The poet’s obligation.” Fully empowered (A.Reid, Trans.). New York: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux. Orwell, G. (1949, Winter). Reflections on Ghandi. Partisan Review, 6, 85–92. Orwell, G. (1984). The Orwell reader: Fiction, essays, and reports. New York: Harcourt. Walton, A. (2000, December 18). “Gwendolyn Brooks (1917–2000).” The New Yorker, 76(39), 48.

4 Adolescent-Parent Conflict: Resistance and Subversion as Developmental Process Judith G.Smetana University of Rochester

Adolescence is problematic in contemporary American society. The prevailing view is that adolescence is a normative period of storm and stress entailing a generation gap and rebellion against adult standards; adolescents are also said to be experiencing a drastic decline in moral values. These views are evident in a variety of different places. For instance, childrearing advice books provide an intriguing window on popular culture perceptions of teenagers. A quick perusal of parenting advice books suggests that adolescence is a battleground. Titles such as Surviving Your Adolescents: How to Manage and Let Go of Your 13–18 Year Olds (Phelan, 1998), Teenagers: A Bewildered Parents’ Guide (Caldwell, 1996), and “I’m Not Mad! I Just Hate You!”: A New Understanding of MotherDaughter Conflict (Cohen-Sandier & Silver, 1999) portray parenting an adolescent as a challenging task and being an adolescent as equally difficult. These negative perceptions of adolescents are echoed in the opinions of the general public. A recent nationally representative telephone survey of more than 2,000 adults, conducted by the Public Agenda (Duffet, Johnson, & Farkas, 1999), examined adults’ views of teenagers today. The majority of adults surveyed (53%) had negative views of children, but they had substantially more negative beliefs about adolescents. Fully 71% of the adults and 74% of parents surveyed described teenagers in negative terms, such as lazy, disrespectful, or wild. A further question revealed that “not learning values” tops the public’s list of problems facing youth today. Nearly half (45%) of their sample believed that the major problem facing the current generation of children is that they have not learned respect and rules. Some prominent commentators and moral educators also have promoted this negative perception of adolescents. For instance, Bennett (1992, 1997) argued that there is a rising tide of juvenile delinquency, adolescent drug and alcohol This chapter is based on an invited talk given at the Annual Meetings of the Association for Moral Education, Chicago, October 2002. 69

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use, and teenage pregnancy and childbearing and that this reflects a breakdown in the moral fabric of society. In Bennett’s view, as well as that of other prominent moral educators (Lickona, 1991, 1997), adolescents are rejecting parents’ moral values and resisting adult authority, and this has led to widespread moral decay. In this chapter, it is asserted that these concerns may be misplaced. At the outset of the chapter, evidence is presented to suggest that for the most part, youth today are not rejecting adults’ moral authority and that evidence for rebellion and rejection of adult standards is widely overstated. Instead, it is proposed that moderate amounts of resistance to parental authority may be normative, both historically and developmentally, that resistance and subversion may be developmentally appropriate, and that, under certain conditions, they may be functional for adolescent development.

ARE ADOLESCENT-PARENT CONELICT AND REJECTION OF ADULT AUTHORITY ON THE RISE? Historical analyses suggest that themes of adolescent rejection of adult authority are nothing new. Demos and Demos (1969) analyzed American childrearing advice books to determine how cultural views of children and adolescents have changed over time and the themes that emerge during different historical periods. According to their analyses, anxiety over parental authority has been a dominant theme of American childrearing advice books since these books first became popular nearly two centuries ago. For example, Demos and Demos (1969) provided the following example from the early 1800s: It must be confessed that an irreverent, unruly spirit has come to be a prevalent, an outrageous evil among the young people of our land… Some of the good old people make facetious complaint on this…“There is as much family government now as there used to be in our young days,” they say, “only it has changed hands.” (p. 633) Thus, it appears that the view of American teenagers as normatively rebellious has dominated the American imagination for at least two centuries. The assertion that juvenile delinquency is on the rise also has come under attack (Fuentes, 1998). Citing data from the National Center for Juvenile Justice, Fuentes asserted that changes in youth crime are not nearly as dramatic as the public’s perception of it and that although there have been fluetuations in juvenile crime rates over the past 30 years, there has been little overall change. Adolescents’ access to guns has increased, and with it has come a drastic increase in youth violence involving guns. However, in contrast to the

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arguments raised by some character educators, it appears that rates of juvenile delinquency and adolescent pregnancy actually are on the decline. Finally, the evidence from psychological research on adolescent-parent relationships likewise suggests that resistance to parental authority has been a relatively constant feature of adolescent-parent relationships and that for most families, its scope and intensity are limited. The results of several large-scale survey studies, conducted almost 50 years ago, have indicated that extreme alienation from parents, active rejection of adult values and authority, and youthful rebellion are the exception, and that close, warm, and supportive family relations during adolescence are the norm. For instance, based on a questionnaire study of approximately 3,500 American teenagers, Douvan and Adelson (1966) concluded that middle adolescents and their parents agree on basic values and that adolescents generally admire and trust their parents and believe that their parents’ rules are generally fair and just. Likewise, Kandel and Lesser (1972) compared nearly 2,000 mother-adolescent dyads in the United States and Denmark and found that most American and Danish adolescents reported close or very close relationships with both mothers and fathers and that most adolescents reported relying on their parents (particularly their mothers) for advice on morality and values. Finally, in a landmark epidemiological study of parents and teachers of the entire population of 2,303 adolescents on the Isle of Wight in Great Britain, Rutter, Graham, Chadwick, and Yule (1976) concluded that most adolescents shared their parents’ values and that they respected their parents’ rules, although they wished their parents were less strict. At the same time, each of these studies did find increases with age in adolescents’ disagreements with parents over issues like choice of clothing, hair, dating, and being allowed to go out (Douvan & Adelson, 1966; Kandel & Lesser, 1972; Rutter et al., 1976). Indeed, disputes over these issues were found to be fairly common and sometimes quite heated. More recently, these studies have been criticized because of their use of global assessments of family closeness, intergenerational tension, and independence. None of these early studies utilized observations of actual family interactions, nor did they provide detailed accounts of conflicts in daily life (Silverberg, Tennenbaum, & Jacob, 1992). Nevertheless, the findings from more recent studies employing more sophisticated methods, including in-depth interviews, more detailed and standardized questionnaires, and observations of family interactions (Laursen & Collins, 1994; Silverberg et al., 1992) are very similar to these early, large-scale studies. Conflicts between adolescents and parents have been found to occur over the everyday details of family life, like doing homework or chores, adolescents’ choice of TV or music, use of the phone, dating and seeing friends, how late to stay out, and dress and hairstyles (Montemayor, 1983, 1986; Smetana, 1989; Smetana, Daddis, & Chuang, 2003). Thus, although the research has become more methodologically sophisticated and more theoretically grounded, the results suggest that American adolescents’

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relationships with their parents today are not very different from their parents’ relationships with their grandparents, when they were young. Moreover, confirming earlier findings, current findings suggest that parent-adolescent conflict is relatively frequent, but moderate in intensity. A recent meta-analysis (Laursen, Coy, & Collins, 1998) indicated that the rate of adolescent-parent conflict (both the number and frequency of conflicts) appears to peak in early adolescence and then to decline, although conflict tends to increase in intensity from early to middle adolescence. Moderate levels of conflict between adolescents and parents appear to be a normative aspect of relationships between American adolescents and their parents.

ADOLESCENTS' AND PARENTS' INTERPRETATIONS OF EVERYDAY DISAGREEMENTS Although disagreements may pertain to relatively mundane, everyday issues, there is more at stake in these disputes than whether adolescents keep their room neat and tidy. Emery (1992) distinguished between the surface meaning, which refers to the literal content of family conflicts (e.g., whether adolescents clean their room or take out the garbage), and the deep meaning, which refers to what conflict conveys about the broader structure of relationships. In a series of studies, we have examined the deep meaning of conflicts by obtaining adolescents’ and parents’ interpretations, or their justifications for their positions on everyday disputes. In most of these studies, adolescents, mothers, and fathers have been individually interviewed about important conflicts (either as generated by the participant or identified as one of their “hottest” conflicts from the Issues Checklist; Robin & Foster, 1989). These studies have included crosssectional investigations of middle-class married and divorced European American families with adolescents ranging in age from 10 to 18 years (Smetana, 1989; Smetana & Asquith, 1994; Smetana & Berent, 1993; Smetana, Yau, Restrepo, & Braeges, 1991), middle-class African American families with early adolescents, who were followed longitudinally for 5 years (Smetana et al., 2003; Smetana & Gaines, 1999), and Chinese adolescents (also 10–18 years of age) in Hong Kong (Yau & Smetana, 1996), and the People’s Republic of China (Yau & Smetana, 2003a). The findings from these studies indicate that parental authority and social order are much on the minds of parents, much as Demos and Demos (1969) observed from their historical analyses of childrearing advice books. Across the different studies, the majority of parents’ justifications for their perspectives on disputes referred to parental authority and social regulation. However, parents’ justifications did not focus on disobedience or disrespect, but rather reflected parental concern with maintaining family and cultural social conventions, instilling a sense of responsibility in their teenagers, establishing modes of

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organization that facilitate the effective functioning of the family (e.g., coordinating chores so that everyone helps out and does their part), and concerns about avoiding social condemnation (e.g., disapproval or embarrassment for not fulfilling expectations). Two aspects of the findings are notable. First, our findings indicate that although parents were concerned with the effective functioning of the family social system and maintaining and enforcing familial and broader cultural norms, everyday conflicts rarely entailed disagreements over basic values or moral issues. Drawing on social domain theory (see Killen, McGlothlin, & LeeKim, 2002; Nucci, 2001; Smetana, 1995b, 2002; Tisak, 1995; Turiel, 1983, 1998, 2002, for overviews), morality in these studies was defined as prescriptive judgments of right and wrong pertaining to others’ welfare (harm), fairness, or rights. A great deal of research has shown that moral concepts are separable, both developmentally and conceptually, from the types of concerns with social conventions and social organization that parents in our studies articulated in the context of everyday disagreements. Morality regulates interpersonal relationships, whereas social conventions pertain to individuals’ descriptive understandings of social systems. Moral issues were infrequent sources of conflict in adolescent-parent relationships and accounted for only a small proportion of disputes (primarily over how adolescents got along with siblings or others). However, in these different studies, social-conventional reasons predominated in parents’ responses and accounted for the majority of their justifications. In lesser frequencies, parents also articulated practical (pragmatic) concerns, prudential concerns (which focused on adolescents’ comfort, health, and safety), and psychological concerns (entailing judgments about their personalities or traits), with parents’ responses distributed among these different categories. Thus, our findings are consistent with findings from earlier studies (Douvan & Adelson, 1966; Kandel & Lesser, 1972; Rutter, 1980; Rutter et al., 1976) indicating that parent-adolescent disagreements do not entail adolescents’ rejection of parental moral values. The second aspect of the findings that deserves note is that whereas parents were concerned with social conventions, social regulation, and paren-tal authority, these concerns were rarely voiced by adolescents, and when they were, adolescents appealed primarily to peer group conventions, not parental or cultural conventions. In contrast, attaining greater personal freedoms and maximizing personal choices were much on the minds of adolescents. Adolescents’ perspectives on conflicts largely entailed claims to personal choices and personal jurisdiction. Thus, adolescents’ reasoning about conflicts focused on statements that the issues were inconsequential or unimportant, because they did not affect others, assertions of personal preferences and choices, and claims to individuality and autonomy. “It’s my room,” “It’s part of who I am,” “I should be able to decide,” and “It’s my choice” were frequent adolescent refrains.

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These findings are very robust. They emerged when adolescents’ justifications were obtained in individual, semistructured interviews (Smetana, 1989; Smetana & Gaines, 1999; Smetana et al., 2003), when justifications were coded from a structured, videotaped family interaction task (Smetana, Braeges, & Yau, 1991), and when adolescents rated or endorsed different reasons through questionnaires (Smetana & Asquith, 1994; Smetana & Berent, 1993). Regardless of method, appeals to personal jurisdiction predominated in adolescents’ responses, with the remaining responses distributed among other types of justifications (pragmatic, prudential, moral, psychological, and conventional). Moreover, when asked to reason from their parents’ perspectives (referred to as counterarguments), adolescents clearly understood their parents’ conventional perspectives on disputes, but reformulated the issues instead in terms of asserting personal choices and personal discretion. Their counterarguments demonstrated that these redefinitions of parents’ conventional arguments as issues of personal choice did not entail wholesale rejection of parents’ conventional authority or values. Rather, adolescents questioned whether parents’ authority extended to the particular issue or instance or to the way the expectation was performed. For instance, parents treated conflicts over chores as conventional expectations that serve to maintain the family social system. Adolescents’ personal justifications often pertained to whether chores needed to be done according to parents’ expectations (e.g., at the times that parents specified), rather than whether chores needed to be done at all or whether parents had the legitimate authority to set those expectations. Adolescents’ appeals to personal jurisdiction were found, in very similar frequencies, in different samples of European American, African American, and Chinese adolescents. The findings for European American youth may not be surprising, given that concerns with personal goals and individualism are said to characterize individuals in North American societies. However, reflecting their West African cultural heritage, African American families are said to be oriented toward communalism and harmony (but see Oyserman, Coon, & Kemmelmeier, 2002, who found African Americans to be more individualistic than European Americans). Likewise, Chinese culture has been described as valuing filial piety, obedience to authority, and harmony in interpersonal relationships (Markus & Kitayama, 1991; Markus, Mullally, & Kitayama, 1997). Yet appeals to personal jurisdiction were very much in evidence in both African American and Chinese adolescents’ justifications for their perspectives on disputes. Rather than seeing these responses as reflecting individualism, selfishness, egoism, or rejection of adult authority, we have interpreted adolescents’ responses in light of recent psychological research, which has viewed claims to personal choices and appeals to personal jurisdiction as an aspect of an organized system of children’s developing social knowledge. More specifically, Nucci (1981, 1996, 2001) identified reasoning about personal issues as an aspect

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of children’s developing psychological knowledge, which is a developmental and conceptual system that is distinct from morality and social convention. Personal issues are issues of preferences and choices and as such, they are not subject to societal regulation and moral concern. They typically pertain to issues like privacy, control over one’s body, and choices regarding friends and leisure activities. Although the boundaries and content of the personal domain may vary across cultures (or ethnic groups), Nucci (1996, 2001) proposed that individuals in all cultures claim control over personal issues and that defining a personal domain satisfies basic human needs for personal agency, autonomy, and effectance. Thus, these findings indicate that adolescent-parent conflicts are, at their heart, debates over where to draw the line between parental control and authority and adolescents’ autonomy over the self. The findings suggest further that the culturally and historically pervasive picture of adolescents as normatively rebellious and as resisting or subverting parental authority is both overdrawn and incomplete. It is overdrawn in that adolescents are not rejecting all forms of parental authority. It is incomplete in that it reflects an overemphasis on parents’ perspectives and a failure to consider adolescents’ perspectives. This is not surprising. Commenting on the perspectives of cultural anthropologists, Abu-Lughod (1993) noted that social science research usually focuses on the perspectives of those in dominant positions and ignores the views of those in subordinate positions. Turiel (1998, 2002) likewise asserted that developmental psychologists have not fully considered the social judgments and social behaviors of those in subordinate positions in different social hierarchies. Although Turiel elaborated his argument primarily in terms of the inequalities that women (relative to men) in different societies face, the argument also has relevance in thinking about adolescents. Parents have an intergenerational stake in maintaining continuity between generations (Bengston & Kuypers, 1971) and in socializing adolescents into the norms and values of their culture. Indeed, successful socialization is typically described as willingly adopting and complying with the rules and directives of adults (Kochanska, Aksan, & Koenig, 1995). Conflict, by definition, entails noncompliance or resistance to parental directives. Our research suggests that adolescents’ resistance to parental authority is selective and in the service of attaining greater autonomy. In general, parents do view autonomy as an important developmental goal. In-depth interviews with mothers have indicated that parents believe it is important for their young children (Nucci & Smetana, 1996) and adolescents (Smetana & Chuang, 2001) to become more independent and that they view granting children decisionmaking control over personal issues as facilitating their competence. Moreover, these views are not restricted to European American middle-class mothers. As reviewed elsewhere (Smetana, 2002), mothers from a variety of cultures, including Japan, Taiwan, China, and Brazil, as well as ethnic minority (African

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American) mothers, have endorsed the importance of granting children developmentally appropriate control over personal issues. However, parents also view their role as keeping their children safe and protecting them from harm, and thus, their willingness to grant children and adolescents’ greater personal jurisdiction is tempered by their judgments of whether children and adolescents have the competence or maturity to make those decisions (Smetana, 2002).

SELECTIVE RESISTANCE AND CONCEPTIONS OF PARENT AND TEACHER AUTHORITY The notion that children’s resistance to adult authority is selective and occurs over the boundaries of adolescents’ personal jurisdiction has been tested directly in a series of studies examining adolescents’ and adults’ conceptions of the legitimacy of adult authority. In the research on adolescentparent conflict, participants generated or rated the disagreements or conflicts that arose in their families, and thus families rated different (but highly salient) issues. In the research on adult authority, participants rated a standard set of issues. They made judgments about hypothetical acts that were seen as exemplifying different domains, including morality, social convention, and personal issues. This research also included a category of more complex issues, which we have termed multifaceted, that typically involved overlapping concerns in different conceptual domains (usually conventional and personal). For instance, in the aforementioned studies, how adolescents keep their bedrooms was a frequent source of conflict in American adolescent-parent relationships; adolescents typically viewed their bedroom as private space, and thus its condition was viewed as an issue of personal choice and personal expression. Parents disagreed. They typically viewed the adolescent’s bedroom as part of the house and its condition as a violation of parental norms. Thus, in the studies of authority concepts, multifaceted issues were issues that adolescents treated as personal but parents viewed as conventional (and potentially, prudential). In some of the studies we included a separate category of multifaceted issues pertaining to friendships, because many friendship issues (like when to start dating or whether to hang out with friends who parents do not like) entail overlapping personal, prudential, psychological, and conventional concerns. In general, the results of cross-sectional studies, including a wide age range of children (from 10–18 years of age; Smetana, 1988; Smetana & Asquith, 1994) and research with African American families with early adolescents, followed longitudinally (Smetana, 2000; Smetana, Crean, & Campione-Barr, 2003), have shown that adolescents and their parents overwhelmingly affirm parents’ legitimate authority to regulate moral and conventional issues and that these judgments do not change significantly with age. Moreover, adolescents and parents also judged that adolescents have an obligation to obey parents’

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moral and conventional rules, even if they disagree with them. These findings indicate clearly that adolescents are oriented toward acceptance of parents’ moral and conventional authority. Similar findings have been obtained among adolescents from other ethnic groups, including American adolescents of Chinese, Filipino, and Latino backgrounds (Fuligni, 1998). However, as expected, the findings from these studies indicated that acceptance of parental authority is not absolute; rather, it is domain-specific. In these studies, the same adolescents who endorsed parents as having legitimate authority to regulate moral and conventional issues overwhelmingly rejected parents’ legitimate authority to regulate prototypical personal issues (like how late to sleep on weekends, how to spend allowance money, and how to wear one’s hair). Furthermore, they also judged that adolescents are not obligated to follow rules limiting adolescents’ freedom over personal issues. Thus, resistance to rules regulating personal issues was seen as legitimate, whereas resistance to moral and conventional rules was not. Moreover, the pattern of judgments was toward greater resistance to parents’ legitimate authority over personal issues with increasing age. Whereas parents were less likely to view parents as legitimate authorities over personal than moral or conventional issues, at each age, parents lagged behind adolescents in their willingness to grant adolescents autonomy over personal issues. Thus, although parent-adolescent discrepancies in judgments of multifaceted issues were found consistently from early to late adolescence, the overall trend was toward granting adolescents more autonomy over these issues—which did not occur for moral or conventional issues. A consistent finding in these studies is that although adolescents and parents generally agree in their judgments regarding parents’ legitimate authority to regulate moral and conventional issues, there are substantial dis-crepancies between parents’ and adolescents’ judgments of legitimate parental authority over multifaceted friendship issues. At each age, adolescents consistently asserted more desires for personal jurisdiction over these issues than parents were willing to grant. However, the studies revealed significant decreases with age in parents’ and adolescents’ beliefs that parents have the legitimate authority to regulate these issues, which are at the boundary of conventional regulation and personal jurisdiction. Thus, as adolescents got older, they were accorded more personal jurisdiction over these issues. These findings are generalizable beyond the immediate context of the family. Using similar methods, we have also examined adolescents’ conceptions of the legitimacy of school and teacher authority (Smetana & Bitz, 1996). A sample of lower middle-class, primarily (80%) European American 5th, 7th, 9th, and 11th graders in elementary, junior, and high schools were asked to make judgments about the legitimacy of teachers’ and principals’ authority to regulate different types of issues in school. As in the studies of parental authority, students made judgments about hypothetical items that were seen as exemplars of different social knowledge domains. In this study, the stimulus items were generated from

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discussions with teachers about frequently occurring rule transgressions in their schools. Thus, the moral items pertained to stealing money from other students, fighting or threatening other students, making fun of other students, and not returning textbooks at the end of the year. The conventional issues included swearing in the halls, talking back to teachers, coming to class late, and misbehaving (acting up) in class. The personal items included sitting next to friends in class, choice of hairstyle, choosing who to have lunch with, and how to spend lunch money. We also added a category we called contextually conventional issues. For reasons of social order, schools may regulate many issues (e.g., going to the lavatory) that might be personal in other contexts but that are socially regulated in school (e.g., setting restrictions on when it is permissible to leave the classroom to go to the lavatory) and potentially may be seen as having both conventional and personal components. Thus, contextually conventional issues can be seen as conceptually similar to the multifaceted issues included in the studies of beliefs about parental authority in the family. In this study, contextually conventional items included kissing boyfriends or girlfriends in the hall, leaving the classroom to go to the lavatory, hanging centerfolds in the student’s locker, and passing notes to friends in class. The pattern of findings was very similar to the results of research on adolescents’ judgments of parental authority in the family. Across ages, adolescents overwhelmingly affirmed the legitimacy of schools and teachers to regulate moral and conventional issues, but they overwhelming rejected school and teachers’ authority to regulate personal issues. Only 5% of re-spouses entailed an endorsement of schools as having the legitimate authority to regulate personal issues. Students were equivocal about whether schools have the legitimate authority to regulate contextually conventional issues; across grades, nearly half of the sample (46%) viewed these issues as legitimately subject to teachers’ and school principals’ authority, but as this suggests, the majority did not view schools as having the legitimate authority to regulate these issues. The findings were nearly the inverse when students were asked whether they should have personal jurisdiction over these issues. Students claimed personal jurisdiction over personal issues, and to a lesser extent, over contextually conventional issues, but they did not view themselves as having the authority to make rules about other types of issues. In unpublished data from this study, we also interviewed 7th, 9th, and 11th grade students to obtain a more elaborated understanding of their reasoning about school and teacher authority. Students were interviewed to obtain their judgments about the acceptability of different types of transgressions and behaviors in school and their justifications for those judgments. Students overwhelming judged that it was permissible (M=2.67, SD=.54 on a 3-point scale where 3=permissible) for schools to make rules about how students behave in class (like coming late, talking back to the teacher, or not listening), based on

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conventional (46%), prudential (30%), and pragmatic or efficiency (10%) justifications. Students also overwhelming judged that it was permissible (M=2.75, SD=.49) for schools to make rules about issues like hitting, fighting with, or teasing other students, based primarily on concerns with others’ welfare or fairness (62%) and less frequently, with authority, punishment, and social order (16%). However, students also judged that it was not acceptable for schools to make rules about choice of friends and when to see friends, control over their bodies (e.g., what they eat), choice of clothes and hairstyles, and what they write in their journals or tell as secrets to other students (Ms ranged from 1.20 to 1.55 on the same 3-point scale, where 1=not permissible to make rules). For each of these issues, personal justifications predominated, ranging from 67% to 86% of justifications offered, and there were no grade or gender differences in any of these judgments or justifications. Responses to other questions indicated that adolescents were attempting to delineate the boundaries between their personal jurisdiction and school and teachers’ legitimate authority. For instance, most students judged that it is not permissible (M=1.43, SD=.64) for schools to make rules about students’ choice of activities (e.g., whether they participate in sports or afterschool activities), based primarily (74%) on personal justifications. However, students were more equivocal about whether schools have the legitimate authority to make rules about students’ choice of activities within school, like the classes they take or what they do in gym class (M=2.08, SD=.76), and their justifications reflected a mixture of personal (35%), prudential (35%), and conventional (22%) concerns. The findings from these studies of parental and institutional (school and teacher) authority indicate that adolescents of varying ethnicities are not rejecting parents’ or other adults’ moral or conventional authority or standards. Rather, they are attempting to enlarge their arena of personal jurisdiction. Adolescents’ claims to greater personal freedom are selective and occur at the boundaries of parents’ authority and adolescents’ authority over the self. Of course, adolescents’ resistance to adult authority may take subversive forms. For instance, adolescents may tell their parents they did their homework when they did not, or they may dress in conventionally appropriate clothing at home and then change into more revealing clothes on their way to school. Adolescents also can choose not to disclose salient information; for instance, they can “forget” to mention that they failed an exam or that no parents will be present at the party at their friend’s house. However, our findings indicate that asserting claims to personal jurisdiction, especially when they differ from parents’ conventional perspectives, potentially can lead to conflict. Different issues may wax and wane as sources of conflict, but the process entails an ongoing negotiation over what adolescents claim to be personal and what adults view them as competent to control. Through these dialectical processes, the boundaries of parental authority are transformed, leading to an outward reach of autonomy during adolescence.

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AUTONOMY IN A BROADER DEVELOPMENTAL CONTEXT It is important to note that claims to personal jurisdiction and personal choice do not arise de novo during adolescence. Nucci (1981, 1996) described the development of children’s concepts of personal issues from early childhood to adolescence. Furthermore, several studies, utilizing observations of adult-child interactions and interviews with both parents and young children, have indicated that claims to personal jurisdiction are evident during the preschool years, in the United States (Killen & Smetana, 1999; Nucci & Weber, 1995), as well as in other cultures, such as Colombia (Ardila-Rey & Killen, 2001), Japan (Killen & Sueyoshi, 1995), and Hong Kong (Yau & Smetana, 2003b). This research suggests that the personal domain is socially constructed through reciprocal parent-child interactions, including the child’s active negotiation with caregivers (parents and teachers) and adults’ provision of choices to the child. Bios (1962, 1979), a neopsychoanalytic theorist, called adolescence a “second individuation period,” In his view, adolescent-parent conflict is seen to facilitate adolescent individuation and lead to a mature sense of identity. Moreover, the research on conflict has documented adolescents’ sometimes sophisticated ability to articulate their personal perspectives on disputes (and through counterarguments, to understand, articulate, and perhaps reject their parents’ perspectives). According to Blos, however, adolescent-parent relationships recapitulate in a more complex form issues that arise during early childhood. Scholars from different theoretical traditions (Damon & Hart, 1988; Erikson, 1958; Mahler, 1979; Spitz, 1957) have recognized that autonomy first becomes a central issue during early childhood, when important distinctions between self and others are made. During the second half of the second year of life, those abilities are evidenced by children’s growing capability for selfassertion, defined most frequently in terms of children’s ability to say “no.” Indeed, saying “no” has become the hallmark of what has been referred to as the “terrible twos,” when children first demonstrate active noncompliance with parental authority and attempts to establish control over the self. Crockenberg and Litman (1990) distinguished empirically between different forms of early childhood self-assertion. They demonstrated that selfassertion and defiance are distinct forms of behavior that differentiate the child’s ability to function competently and autonomously. In their study of 2-year-olds, Crockenberg and Litman defined defiance as entailing strong resistance to the mother’s requests, including responses that included anger and aggression, that were directly contrary to what the mother wanted, or that intensified the original misbehavior. In contrast, self-assertion entailed negative responses (e.g., saying “no”) to mothers’ directions or requests. Moreover, Crockenberg and Litman demonstrated that self-assertion was associated with children’s more competent social behaviors, including use of negotiation and positive communication,

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whereas defiance was not. Furthermore, self-assertion was more likely when mothers used low-power assertion, guidance, and directives, whereas defiance was more likely when mothers used high-power assertive control strategies, such as threats, criticism, physical intervention, and anger. These latter findings accord well with the observational studies of young children’s social interactions in the context of personal issues, which have found that personal concepts emerge from parents’ and adults’ provision of choices and negotiations over personal issues. Crockenberg and Litman’s (1990) findings are also useful in understanding adolescent-parent relationships. As with toddlers, it important to distinguish between healthy forms of adolescent self-assertion that lead to greater adolescent competence and autonomy, and destructive or dysfunctional forms of adolescent self-assertion that entail defiance and rebellion. In their epidemiological study of adolescents on the Isle of Wight, Rutter et al. (1976) found that the adolescents who experienced intense conflicts with parents during adolescence tended to have psychological problems prior to adolescence. More recent studies have confirmed that although high levels of adolescent-parent conflict are associated with a range of behavioral problems, including externalizing problems such as drug and alcohol use, delinquency, truancy, and running away, as well as internalizing problems, such as depression and attempted suicide (see Laursen & Collins, 1994; Silverberg et al., 1992; Smetana, 1996, for reviews), most adolescents who experience problem behavior during adolescence were found to have psychological problems and poor relationships with parents prior to adolescence. Indeed, studies are very consistent in demonstrating that in community (e.g., non-clinic-referred) samples of families, only a small proportion of adolescents (ranging from about 5%–20% in different studies) experience emotional turmoil and highly conflictive relations with parents (see Laursen & Collins, 1994; Smetana, 1996, for reviews). Thus, this research indicates that there is significant continuity in parent-child relationships from childhood to adolescence. Children who have warm and supportive relationships with parents prior to adolescence generally have emotionally close relationships with parents during adolescence, although, as Laursen et al.'s (1998) meta-analysis indicates, there are normative increases in the rate and intensity of disagreements. Research has also demonstrated normative declines from middle to late adolescence or young adulthood in closeness and cohesion with parents (Fuligni, 1998; Furman & Buhrmester, 1992; Youniss & Smollar, 1985). Moreover, moderate conflict in the context of warm, supportive relationships has been shown to be functional for adolescent autonomy development (Hill, 1987; Holmbeck, 1996; Smetana, 1988, 1995a; Steinberg, 1990, 2001). Thus, paralleling Crockenberg and Litmaris (1990) findings from early childhood, the research on adolescence suggests that defiance can be distinguished conceptually and empirically from more

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normative and developmentally appropriate forms of resistance and selfassertion in adolescence. Furthermore, the research described in previous sections indicates that developmentally appropriate resistance during adolescence occurs over the boundaries of legitimate parental control versus adolescents’ personal jurisdiction. As the clinical definitions of conduct disorders and oppositional behavior disorders suggest, defiance may entail adolescent rejection of parental moral and conventional rules, norms, and values, but healthy development does not.

IMPLICATIONS FOR PARENTS AND SCHOOLS The findings from our research on adolescent-parent conflict and authority relationships in different social knowledge domains suggest the importance of providing adolescents some developmentally appropriate decision-making autonomy, both in the home and in other settings, such as schools. Eccles and her colleagues (Eccles et al., 1993; Eccles, Wigfield, & Schiefele, 1998) have examined what they called stage-environment fit, or the fit between the environment and children’s developing needs. They have claimed that schools, particularly junior high schools, restrict adolescents’ autonomy precisely when they need it most, in early adolescence. Eccles and her colleagues provided evidence from several studies indicating that, despite students’ increasing maturity, junior high school classrooms emphasize greater teacher control and discipline and offer fewer opportunities for student involvement in decision making, choice, and self-management than do elementary school classrooms. Increases in teacher control have been found when the same students and their teachers were followed through the transition from sixth to seventh grade (Midgley & Feldlaufer, 1987). This resulted in increased discrepancies, or mismatches, between early adolescents’ desires for autonomy over decision making and their perceptions of their opportunities to engage in decision making in their classrooms. Eccles et al. (1998) reported that this mismatch resulted in declines in intrinsic motivation and interest in school. In their discussions of this research, Eccles and her colleagues (Eccles et al., 1993; Eccles et al., 1998) called for more developmentally appropriate environments for early adolescents, including more opportunities for student input into decisions regarding their learning, as well as classroom decision making. The research on adolescents’ conceptions of school and teacher authority discussed previously (Smetana & Bitz, 1996) adds specificity to these recommendations by providing some indications of the types of issues over which students seek greater involvement and decision-making autonomy. The findings indicate that students desire greater autonomy over contextually conventional and personal issues in school.

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In a similar vein, research has shown that adolescents who view parents as intruding too deeply into their personal domains view their parents as psychologically controlling (Smetana & Daddis, 2002), and in turn, greater perceived psychological control has been related to a variety of psychological problems, including both internalizing problems like depression and anxiety, and externalizing problems, like conduct disorders (Barber, Olsen, & Shagle, 1994). Research also has found that parents who are authoritative in their parenting style are able to draw clear boundaries among moral, conventional, multifaceted, and personal issues (Smetana, 1995c). That is, authoritative parents make clear distinctions between moral and conventional issues, while being responsive in granting adolescents authority over personal issues. They are also relatively restrictive and do not view adolescents as having personal jurisdiction over issues that entail overlaps between conventional and personal issues (multifaceted issues). Thus, it appears that authoritative parents are relatively demanding in constructing the boundaries of legitimate parental authority, while still granting adoles-cents a limited sphere of personal freedom. In contrast, authoritarian parents overextend the boundaries of the domains in several ways. They moralize conventions in their judgments and also grant adolescents very little personal jurisdiction over personal issues. Conversely, permissive parents are too permissive in defining the boundaries of the personal domain and give adolescents developmentally inappropriate freedoms. These findings have implications for best practices for parenting and schools. First, although conflicts may be hotly contested and deeply felt by both adolescents and parents, it is important to keep in mind that in most cases, adolescents are not rejecting basic social and moral values. Thus, parents and teachers must stay attuned to the developmental nature of these conflicts. Many parenting advice books advise parents to “pick their battles” and “don’t sweat the small stuff.” This is wise counsel; our research indicates that it is vital for parents to allow adolescents some discretion over personal issues and to be responsive to adolescents’ desires for autonomy and independent decision making over personal issues, while having firm and clear expectations for adolescents’ moral, conventional, and prudential behavior. The more difficult issue is to decide how much autonomy is appropriate, particularly as research has shown that too much freedom to make decisions alone, without any input from parents, has negative implications for adolescents’ adjustment and wellbeing (Dornbusch, Ritter, Mont-Reynaud, & Chen, 1990; Lamborn, Dornbusch, & Steinberg, 1996). In allowing adolescents greater independence, parents need to carefully weigh the relative risks to adolescents’ safety and well-being, along with their understanding of adolescents’ maturity and competence. Furthermore, allowing adolescents increasing autonomy over personal issues does not mean that parents should not monitor choices and scaffold healthy decisions. It is also crucial to recognize that from adolescents’ perspectives, these issues are not small at all. Rather, conflicts serve a developmentally vital function in

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that they represent adolescents’ attempts to construct their identities, enlarge their spheres of personal freedom, and construct coherent selves. Disagreements and squabbling may make adolescent-parent relationships difficult. Indeed, Offer (1969) found the majority of parents in his studies reported that the early adolescent years were the most difficult time they had in raising their children. However, research has demonstrated that the opportunity for adolescents to express and discuss divergent perspectives in the context of warm, supportive relationships has been found to be positively associated with adolescent development (Allen, Hauser, Bell, & O’Connor, 1994 ;Grotevan t& Cooper, 1985, 1986; Hauser et al., 1984). Although there are strong parallels to families, the issues in schools may be somewhat different, because schools have more clearly defined organizational needs and structures than do families. Schools must be more structured to accomplish their educational aims. Thus, maintaining social order often takes priority over allowing personal freedoms in school. As reflected in the previous discussion of contextually conventional issues (Smetana & Bitz, 1996), our research suggests that adolescents are able to coordinate their understanding of the social-organizational needs and requirements of schools with their desires for greater personal jurisdiction, but at the same time, teachers and administrators should understand adolescents’ developmental needs for areas of personal freedom and control. Although social-organizational needs may take priority, there still is room for teachers to be flexible in their enforcement of rules and to allow some developmentally appropriate autonomous decision making, while remaining firm in their expectation of adherence to moral and conventional standards. It is possible that explicit recognition and granting of these needs for autonomy will forestall some of the resistance and subversion that happens in school. This view is consistent with recent writing about the need for developmental discipline in effective classroom management (DeVries & Zan, 1994; Dreikurs, Grunwald, & Pepper, 1982). Nevertheless, not all resistance and subversion in school would seem to involve adolescents’ attempts to increase their personal freedoms. Much has been written about increases in moral and conventional misbehavior and norm deviations during adolescence, including increased truancy, status offenses such as underage drinking, cigarette use, substance use, and minor crimes like petty theft and vandalism. Indeed, some researchers (Moffitt, 1993) have viewed these behaviors to be normative during adolescence, due to the large gap that exists in modern society between adolescents’ biological and social maturity. Moffitt (1993) provided evidence from crime statistics and arrest records that for the most part, these are “adolescence-limited” behaviors that do not persist into adulthood and that only a very small proportion of youth, clearly distinguishable by the early onset of their troubled behavior and the more serious nature of offenses during adolescence, graduate to criminal careers in adulthood.

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Schools are not immune to these issues. Schools routinely deal with violations like vandalism, minor theft, harassment, using illegal substances on school property, and status offenses, such as cigarette smoking and underage drinking. Schools also frequently confront violations of contextually conventional rules, such as violations of dress codes, which may be more stringent than in other contexts. The perspective presented here on the multifaceted nature of adolescents’ social knowledge development, along with Moffitt’s (1993) evidence that these youthful transgressions may constitute a developmental phase on the route to a generally rule-abiding adulthood, suggest that one does not need to invoke a homogeneous notion of character to understand these (mis)behaviors (Nucci, 2001). Adolescents’ attempts to construct a unique identity may involve experimentation with rule-breaking behavior. For instance, Brown (1990) mapped the social world of adolescent crowds by placing them along two dimensions: the extent to which youth are involved in the social institutions controlled by adults, and the extent to which they are involved in the more informal peer culture. “Jocks” and “populars” are examples of crowds that are heavily invested in both adult institutions and peer culture. “Brains” and “nerds” may be heavily involved in adult-controlled institutions but not in peer culture, and “partyers “occupy the opposite end of the social map. They are heavily invested in peer culture but not in adult institutions. An especially ironic aspect of adolescent identity development is that adolescents typically use their crowd membership as a reference group in their attempts to establish a unique identity. Personal identities typically are woven out of crowd values, and the less that crowds are invested in adult social institutions, the more their behaviors may entail resistance to or subversion of adult standards. Some character educators have seen this as evidence of moral decay and a decline in moral values (Bennett, 1992, 1997; Wynne, 1986). Noting that peer cultures can create norms that are antithetical to good character, Lickona (1997) argued for the need for a more positive peer culture. Although the names have changed, their social mapping has not—the major adolescent crowds have remained relatively constant over the past 50 years. Thus, much of adolescents’ resistance and rule breaking may be seen as attempts at socially constructing and elaborating different social identities whose uniqueness stems from their differentiation from adult conventions. Perhaps it is this contrarian feature—the apparent rejection of adult tastes and conventions—that provokes the persistent concern of the adult generation.

CONCLUSIONS The findings presented here suggest that adolescents’ negotiations, resistances, and challenges to parental authority are selective and potentially functional in

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transforming adolescent-parent relationships and facilitating adolescent development. In this chapter, it was asserted that moderate resistance and challenges to authority are normative and adaptive as attempts to construct a broader sphere of personal identity and autonomy. Evidence from studies of adolescent-parent conflict and adolescents’ conceptions of adult authority was brought to bear on the claim that adolescents typically do not defy adult authority in the moral realm. However, there are some important qualifications to this conclusion. The research discussed in this chapter focused on situations where parental authority was contextually appropriate, where parents had the competence and status to make demands of their adolescents, and where the requests were reasonable in that they were not “immoral.” As reviewed elsewhere (Smetana, 1995a, 1995c; Turiel, 1998, 2002), studies of children’s and ado-lescents’ conceptions of adult authority have demonstrated that adult authority does not legitimately extend to causing harm, prescribing immoral acts, or being unjust or unfair. Furthermore, children and adolescents evaluate the contextual appropriateness of the acts, as well as different attributes of the authority (e.g., their social position, knowledge, and status) in whether authority is legitimate or not. Thus, adolescents’ acceptance of adult authority in the moral domain is not unquestioning or absolute, nor should it be. Fully autonomous moral judgments entail applications of principles of justice, welfare, and rights that are separable from and that may transcend the expectations of particular authorities (parental, institutional, or societal). Thus, the findings presented here challenge parents and educators to think carefully about balancing demands for moral and conventional accountability with developmentally appropriate opportunities for autonomy, both moral and personal.

REFERENCES Abu-Lughod, L. (1993). Writing women’s worlds: Bedouin stories. Berkeley: University of California Press. Allen, J., Hauser, S.T., Bell, K., & O’Connor, T. (1994). Longitudinal assessment of autonomy and relatedness in adolescent-family interactions as predictors of adolescent ego development and self-esteem. Child Development, 65, 179–194. Ardila-Rey, A., & Killen, M. (2001). Colombian preschool children’s judgments about autonomy and conflict resolution in the classroom setting. International Journal of Behavioral Development, 25, 246–255. Barber, B.K., Olsen, J.E., & Shagle, S.C. (1994). Associations between parental psychological and behavioral control and youth internalized and externalized behaviors. Child Development, 65, 1120–1136. Bengston, V.L., & Kuypers, J.A. (1971). Generational difference and the developmental stake. Aging & Human Development, 2, 249–260. Bennett, W.J. (1992). The de-valuing of America: The fight for our culture and our children. New York: The Free Press.

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Smetana, J. (1996). Adolescent-parent conflict: Implications for adaptive and maladaptive development. In D.Cicchetti & S.L.Toth (Eds.), Rochester Symposium on Developmental Psychopathology: Vol. VII. Adolescence: Opportunities and challenges (pp. 1–46). Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press. Smetana, J.G. (2000). Middle class African American adolescents’ and parents’ conceptions of parental authority and parenting practices: A longitudinal investigation. Child Development, 71, 1672–1686. Smetana, J.G. (2002). Culture, autonomy, and personal jurisdiction in adolescent-parent relationships. In H.W.Reese & R.Kail (Eds.), Advances in Child development and behavior (Vol. 29, pp. 51–87). New York: Academic Press. Smetana, J.G., & Asquith, P. (1994). Adolescents’ and parents’ conceptions of parental authority and adolescent autonomy. Child Development, 65, 1147–1162. Smetana, J.G., & Berent, R. (1993). Adolescents’ and mothers’ evaluations of justifications for disputes. Journal of Adolescent Research, 8, 252–273. Smetana, J.G., & Bitz, B. (1996). Adolescents’ conceptions of teachers’ authority and their relations to rule violations in school. Child Development, 67, 1153–1172. Smetana, J.G., Braeges, J.L., & Yau, J. (1991). Doing what you say and saying what you do: Reasoning about adolescent—parent conflict in interviews and interactions. Journal of Adolescent Research, 6, 276–295. Smetana, J.G., & Chuang, S.S. (2001). Middle class African American parents’ conceptions of parenting in early adolescence. Journal of Research on Adolescence, 11, 177–198. Smetana, J.G., Crean, H.E., & Campione-Barr, N. (2003, April). Changing boundaries of parental authority in African American families. Paper presented at the Biennial Meetings of the Society for Research in Child Development, Tampa, FL. Smetana, J.G., & Daddis, C. (2002). Domain-specific antecedents of psychological control and parental monitoring: The role of parenting beliefs and practices. Child Development, 73, 563–580. Smetana J.G., Daddis, C., & Chuang, S.S. (2003). “Clean your room!”: A longitudinal investigation of adolescent-parent conflict in middle class African American families. Journal of Adolescent Research, 18, 631–650. Smetana, J.G., & Gaines, C. (1999). Adolescent—parent conflict in middle-class African American families. Child Development, 70, 1447–1463. Smetana, J.G., Yau, J., Restrepo, A., & Braeges, J. (1991). Adolescent-parent conflict in married and divorced families. Developmental Psychology, 27, 1000–1010. Spitz, R.A. (1957). No and yes: On the genesis of human communication. Madison, CT: International Universities Press. Steinberg, L. (1990). Interdependency in the family: Autonomy, conflict, and harmony in the parent—adolescent relationship. In S.S.Feldman & G.R.Elliot (Eds.), At the threshold: The developing adolescent (pp. 255–276). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Steinberg, L. (2001). We know some things: Parent—adolescent relations in retrospect and prospect. Journal of Research on Adolescence, 11, 1–19. Tisak, M. (1995). Domains of social reasoning and beyond. In R.Vasta (Ed.), Annals of child development (Vol. 11, pp. 95–130). London: Jessica Kingsley. Turiel, E. (1983). The development of social knowledge: Morality and convention. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

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5 Risk-Taking, Carnival, and the Novelistic Self: Adolescents’ Avenues to Moral Being and Integrity Cynthia Lightfoot Pennsylvania State University

There is no alibi for being. —Mikhail Bakhtin (1993, p. 64) According to the buzz and chatter in the popular press, and aided and abetted by the scientific community, adolescents either are running with scissors or on the high road to a quality of life that their progenitors could only imagine. By the first account, they have never been more poorly educated, prematurely pregnant, reckless, drugged, depressed, apathetic, suicidal, and violent. Responding to this apparent moral crisis is a legion of studies marshaled to rout out the blameworthy, pointing fingers in turn at broken families, chaotic neighborhoods, declining religiosity, eroding social controls, peer group exclusion, violent media, inattentive parents, and just plain boredom (e.g., Polakow, 2000). It was written of boys in particular: Americans are worried about their boys. Large numbers of boys roam the streets without much adult supervision or even surveillance. They gather in peer groups and seem to flaunt adult values in their dress and speech. Large numbers of them are foreign-born. These male peer groups—gangs, really—engage too often in aggressive and violent behavior… One sociologist’s book, The Boy Problem, has labeled this the most challenging social problem for the generation, (p. xv) This passage marks the departure point of Mechling’s (2001) ethnographic study of Boy Scouts and the “making of American youth.” Although it colors a certain well-penned image of contemporary adolescents, Mechling tells us that the passage describes American sentiment toward youth in the year 1900. Discounting the possibility that adolescents simply come undone at the turn of each new century, there is something telling in the historical continuity of belief that adolescence is a time of moral collapse, and that we would all be better off 93

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if youth could simply sleep out the years between “ten and three-andtwenty…for there is nothing in between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting” (Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale, 1996, p. 15). On the other side of the mountain of opinion regarding adolescence are those who have challenged as extremist, if not baseless illusion, the prior view that teenagers, for one reason or another, are essentially depraved and subversive (Acland, 1995; Dohrn, 2000; Fornas & Bolin, 1995; Hancock, 2000; Males, 1999). Both the popular media and the scholarly community, they argue, have unfairly maligned and criminalized youth. The crisis of youth is not a real crisis, but a felt crisis. This second more humanistic view smoothes the rough edge of whatever else may characterize adolescent social life and behavior and suggests that youth, by and large, are doing just fine. As consummate consumers of culture and media, and active deliberators of their personal identities, lifestyles and futures, they are guilty only of falling victim to insidious social stereotype. Youth have been framed. There is much to recommend both points of view. Our interviews with adolescents about their own and others’ risk-taking show ample evidence that their behavior is often undertaken in a spirit of defiance, with an attitude that is explicitly clannish, irreverently clownish, and aims for a loss of self in the moment and in the other in ways that efface personal responsibility (Lightfoot, 1997): • (The thrill of risk-taking) is almost, but not quite getting caught. • (Getting drunk) is a good excuse to fall all over that cute guy you really like. • (Skipping school) makes you feel closer because you’ve beat the establishment together. • (Stealing a case of beer from a delivery truck) shows what lengths you’ll go to be in the group. • (Taking LSD) is a way to relate—a different way of being close. Notwithstanding their apparent attraction to a mob mentality that inverts the general order endorsed and imposed by the broader culture, these very same teenagers appeared to cast a sideward glance at moral and ethical boundary conditions. There was much talk about the importance of never losing total control—of either the situation or one’s self The teens spoke explicitly about codes of conduct and issues of harm and trust that remained clear and operative through the purple haze and the thrill of the moment. • What is the difference between a risk that you would take and one that you wouldn’t take? • I wouldn’t do anything that’s immoral. • I wouldn’t do anything that would make my parents totally lose trust in me.

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• It wouldn’t hurt anyone e.lse. It might hurt me, but I probably wouldn’t take a risk that is going to affect someone else—my friends, or someone I don’t know. Like drinking and driving. I would never do that, no matter what the situation, no matter how much trouble I could get in with my parents (i.e., by calling parents to get a ride home, or “crashing” at the party and not going home at all). • When people hurt each other—that’s the worst. You have no right to do that. (Like what?) Like drunk driving. • I have friends who steal and shoplift. To most people it’s not that big a deal, but to me it is because you’re hurting someone else. • What about someone who tries to get his or her good friend to try pot, even though he or she doesnt really want to? • That would make me really mad because since you don’t do it (smoke pot), it’s breaking the code. (What code is that?) The code is that you don’t put someone in that position. I present these out-takes from semistructured interviews with 15 to 17yearolds as a way of introducing the argument that the shape of adolescent risktaking reveals the contours and complexities of an emerging moral landscape. My plan for this chapter is to draw principally from Bakhtinian theory to consider adolescent risk-taking as but an example of a broader realm of activity inherent to the project of becoming a person. According to the argument I mean to unfold, Bakhtin’s (1981) theory of aesthetics, to which he pinned a developmental conception of self as an ethically grounded agent, presents an integrative prospect for illuminating the functional significance of adolescent social life and experience. Viewed through the lens of Bakhtin’s theory, particularly his conceptions of carnival and the novelistic self, risk-taking becomes an aesthetic form that objectifies and comments on who adolescents are and wish to become within a specific so-cial-ideological world. To further the broader aim of my argument—that in addition to providing insight into adolescent risk-taking, Bakhtin provided a potentially powerful theory for understanding the development of self in general—I apply his analytic method to a second aesthetic form both produced by and having special significance for adolescents of Latin American descent: lowrider art. TWO MORALITIES, TWO DISCOURSES In an inspired moment, Yeats wrote: If we cannot imagine ourselves as different from what we are…we cannot impose a discipline upon ourselves though we may accept one from others. Active virtue, as distinguished from

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the passive acceptance of a code, is therefore theatrical, consciously dramatic, the wearing of a mask. (1959, p. 334) There is a lot of Bakhtin in Yeats’s insight. It is a close summary of Bakhtin’s theory of the relationship between art and ethics, a relationship that I return to shortly. It also brings to mind a perennial distinction in the human sciences between two forms of morality—one imposed, the other consciously chosen and embraced (Lightfoot, 2000). In the works of Piaget (1995), for example, we learn of a morality of obligation and a morality of goodness. The first is a power politic based on a combination of love and fear that follows from a unilateral respect of a lesser toward a greater authority, as that of a child toward a parent. Moral life and action are oriented without qualm or question toward prefabricated norms of authority. The morality of obligation is a strict and coercive morality that expresses its authority not only in the unexamined duty of young children, but in the cultural life of traditional, gerontocratic society that “retards the intellectual development of those who are subject to it” (Piaget, 1995, p. 231), and socializes the individual only “on the surface” leaving intact the “deep habits” of egocentrism (p. 219). Set against what is considered the more developmentally and culturally immature morality of obligation is a morality of goodness instantiated by the mutual respect and affection existing between individuals who recognize each other as equals. According to Piaget, the morality of goodness emerges in the context of cooperative social exchange in which the child slips the bonds of obligation to engage in active norm construction with his or her peers, as in the case of children negotiating rules in a marble game. Crossing the threshold of belief that rules are eminent and inviolable, children come to understand that they can be modified by consensus; the blinkered moral life imposed by external authority is replaced by a more freely roving moral gaze enabled by a new commitment to democratic process and the common will When the dictates of the other fade in the rising light of a moral code personally elaborated through cooperative social exchange (see also Nucci, 1996), unquestioned devotion and fear yield to a “disinterested behavior which characterizes moral norms” (Piaget, 1995, p. 118), Its rightful heirs are reflection and self-consciousness, the dissociation of subjective and objective, and the construction of an abstract scale of values that extends beyond the immediately contingent interests of the moment, permitting one to hold in abeyance his or her own moral point of view to appreciate and respect (although not necessarily adopt) that of another. According to Piaget (1995), “the initial ‘self’ [i.e., the egocentric self] blossoms as personality thanks to cooperation, and…the social thus joins, rather than opposes, what is innermost in an individual” (p. 240). Linked to the onset of formal operational thought, all of these developmental milestones are “of a nature to permit individuals to have a greater consciousness of reason immanent in all intellectual activity” (Piaget,

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1995, p. 239). Such consciousness is, for Piaget, the mainstay of individual and cultural liberation: Thanks to these two instruments, i.e. the formal operations and a “personal” hierarchy of values, the adolescent plays a fundamental role in our societies of liberating coming generations from older ones. This leads the individual to elaborate further the new things that he acquired during his development as a child at the same time that it frees him, at least in part, from the obstacles issuing from adult constraints. (Piaget, 1995, p. 299) Consistent with his overall theory, Piaget linked these momentous shifts in moral life to the grand sweep of cognitive development. Bakhtin (1895–1975), a Russian literary scholar and a contemporary of Piaget, would have objected to Piaget’s endorsement of abstract structuralism and its accoutrements of “disinterested” moral norms and value hierarchies. There are, however, points of conceptual contact between the two theorists, including their desire to characterize the emergence of a consciously aware ethical life that is personally meaningful and relatively free of the shackles of imposed authority. Where Piaget spoke of obligation and goodness as two fundamental forms of moral life, Bakhtin spoke of discourse—one that is primarily authoritative, the other internally persuasive. He illustrated the distinction between them by drawing parallels to two familiar pedagogical modes: reciting by heart and retelling in one’s own words. In the psyche, reciting by heart is analogous to authoritative discourse. It is imposed; demands allegiance; does not permit one to argue with it, play with it, or integrate it; or merge it with other beliefs, values, or knowledge. It cannot be represented—it is only transmitted: It is, so to speak, the word of the fathers. Its authority was already acknowledged in the past. It is a prior discourse. It is therefore not a question of choosing it from among other possible discourses that are its equal. It is given (it sounds) in lofty spheres, not those of familiar contact. (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 342) Authoritative discourse is thus a distant and alien discourse. In contrast, and akin to retelling in one’s own words, internally persuasive discourse is half-ours and half-someone else’s; it is in this sense “double voiced” or dialogic and therefore more finely interwoven with the texture of everyday consciousness. Where authoritative discourse is inert, prefigured, and calcified, internally persuasive discourse is dynamic, creative, and open to new applications; that is, open to dialogic engagement with other internally persuasive discourses. It is the sharp gap between the two categories of discourse—the imposed versus the persuasive, the official versus the socially unacknowledged, the alien versus the

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familiar, the monologic versus the dialogic—that sets a stage for the development of individual consciousness. Bakhtin’s special interest was the emergence of consciousness, an ideological consciousness in particular, which he understood to follow directly from the struggle between authoritative and internally persuasive discourses: “The struggle and dialogic interrelationship of these categories of ideological discourse are what usually determine the history of an individual ideological consciousness” (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 342). The struggle—and it is an ongoing, lifelong struggle—is waged against the line of authority and the alienated distance that defines it. However, the struggle itself has the effect of drawing the authoritative into a zone of contact; there is a weakening of its hold, a degradation of its authority. It is not the case, therefore, that the maturity of consciousness hangs on hostility to authority. Mere hostility is not enough, nor is it even necessary. It is dialogue that matters. It follows that a shucking of authority is not an inevitable outcome of the developmental process. Authority, tradition, the “done thing,” can be agreed to and embraced as one’s own once it has been challenged, tested, and deprived of its unconditional allegiance. It can, in other words, become internally persuasive, and vulnerable to new struggles with other internally persuasive discourses. The development of an ideological consciousness is premised in an iron clad way on the ongoing struggle for hegemony among discourses—those various ideological points of view—that move and persuade us. So long as discourse remains authoritative, however, it precludes dialogic relations. If the psyche were composed of it entirely, then people would fully “coincide with themselves.” It is the noncoincidence of internally persuasive discourses and the intentional hybridization of distinct, individualized, concrete discourses that carry the weight and significance of the project of becoming. Bakhtin suggested that the ideological consciousness evolves rather late in development. I suspect he had adolescence in mind—that time of preoccupation with authenticity: the true and false self, duplicity, mask and masquerade (Lightfoot, 2003). When thought begins to work in what Bakhtin (1981) described as “an independent, experimenting and discriminating way,” (p. 345) ideological points of view of self and other are objectified through a process of aesthetic construction. For Bakhtin, an aesthetically constructed event or object is known as such by the form-bestowing presence of an outside consciousness— the interpretive eye of a spectator or reader, the creative hand of an author— striving to achieve a sense of the “whole” (Emerson, 1997, p. 136), Thus, as he envisioned it, the aesthetic process need not construct an object of beauty (this being the focal concern of much aesthetic theorizing, past and present). Its constitutive feature is rather to construct an object of purpose and understanding. In other words, the “aesthetic” in Bakhtin’s world does not aspire to perfection—that sacred whole of statues and virgins offered in compliant supplication to pre-Homeric gods who sat in cold and distant judgment of

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human moral affairs. Instead, it is inspired by the call of the Muse—of Clio and Calliope. As Calasso (1993) described, the Homeric god, intemperate to the core on earth as in Olympus, imposed no commandments and required of the human world neither good behavior nor devotion. Rather, the Homeric god wanted above all (t)o be recognized. Every recognition is an awareness of form. Hence in our enfeebled modern vocabulary we might say that the way they (the gods) imposed themselves was first and foremost aesthetic. But in a sense of the word which, with time, has been lost: the aesthetic of a mesh of powers, (p. 242) It is this lost sense of the word that characterizes Bakhtin s theory of aesthetics. His aesthetic object is not one of sacred and self-sufficient beauty born of unexamined compliance, but one of purpose, power, and understanding born of inspiration. The person listens; Calliope whispers; the person creates. The aesthetic work is not an offering, but an answer.

THE NOVELISTIC SELE Of particular moment in Bakhtin’s theory were his efforts to relate the ethical and aesthetic aspects of human action. He drew extensive parallels between the self and the novel, arguing that both involve a highly complex combination and dialogue of noncoincident discourses and ways of speaking, each expressing a particular worldview or stance, Bakhtin considered dialogue to be essential to self-development; he described selfhood as “essentially novelistic, that is, in terms of inner dialogues and the processes that shape them over time into a personality” (Morson & Emerson, 1990, p. 216). Both self and novel constitute artistically organized systems for bringing different languages in contact with one another; both have the goal of illuminating one language by means of another—of carving out an image of one language in the light of another. Artistically organized systems vary in the way that languages are represented or interilluminated, or the degree to which they are directly mixed. At one extreme is direct stylization, an artistic image of another’s language that preserves its integrity while intending to establish resonance with the language of the stylizer and his or her contemporaneous audience. Although only one image is constructed, it nevertheless requires the presence of two individualized consciousnesses: the one that represents, and the one that is represented. At the other extreme is parodic stylization, in which the artistic intentions of the representing discourse are explicitly and directly destructive to that which is represented. To be authentic and productive, which is to say successful, the parodied language must be represented as fully formed and possessing its own

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internal logic, however profaned and despised it becomes through the discourse of parody. For Bakhtin, the mutual illumination of multiple discourses takes place between these two extremes. What is crucial for the evolution of the ideological consciousness is the artistic rendering, the intentional giving of form, and the dramatization and objectification of coherent languages or socioideological points of view: Every language in the novel is a point of view, a socioideological conceptual system of real social groups and their embodied representatives. Insofar as a language is not perceived as a unique socio-ideological system it cannot be material for orchestration, it cannot become the image of a language. (Bakhtin, 1981, pp. 411–412) Bakhtin argued that the product of such engaged language play is profoundly ethical. Through it, we are not only liberated from the hegemony of a unitary, authoritative discourse, but sensitized to the internal form of the other and, indeed, the internal form of our own inner discourses that themselves become reified and alien, objects of consciousness illuminated as such by the other. When consciousness emerges of one’s own inner discourse as only one among others, the fusion of discourse and ideology is disrupted and, “only then will language reveal its essentially human character; from behind its words, forms, styles…faces begin to emerge, the images of speaking human beings” (Bakhtin, 1981, p. 370). Thus, a deeply involved participation with alien languages and cultures gives rise to a verbal-ideological decentering—a dissociation of language from the intentions, meanings, and truths that it embodies and, therefore, an undoing of mythological and magical thought. According to Bakhtin, a healthy self strives for exposure to multiple perspectives, strives toward a novelized state, to increase its own choices and responsibility and reduce its impotence in the world. Individuals, as well as cultures, that open only to others like themselves, or do not open at all, become rigid, inert, and impoverished. Bakhtin’s theory of the novel and the novelized self contains a transparent humanism that biographers and critics see as responsive to the Russian political and intellectual movements of his time. Within this broader context, the concept that we consider next—that of carnival—assumes a particularly ambiguous posture due at least in part to Bakhtin’s own reformulation of both carnival and the novel as he struggled to make both cohere with his overall theory. However, in all its ambiguity, and perhaps because of its ambiguity, carnival has special relevance for understanding adolescents’ risk-taking as a medium for selfdevelopment.

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THE CARNIVAL SELF AND LAUGHING OUTSIDEDNESS Bakhtin’s early work on carnival ran in directions very much opposed to concepts considered central to his theory of the novel. His early account was in many ways similar to what probably passes as our folk understanding of the holiday. According to our folk conceptions, carnival is set apart from the mundane activities of our everyday lives. We see it as an interruption and a refuge, a distinct and separate sphere of reality that we enter occasionally, leaving at its threshold all that carries the weight of the world too much upon it. On this logic, carnival enables and even demands a bucking of authority, an inversion of the moral order; it evokes a space of self-renunciation in which the otherwise rational, individuated, buttoned-up self is given over to, or is overtaken by an unrestrained mob mentality that celebrates the grotesque—the lowest, common human denominator of unrestrained sex, consumption, and violence. Behind the mask and masquerade of the collective, carnival dissolves the boundaries that ordinarily separate selves, and therefore also dissolves the responsibilities and obligations that ordinarily accrue to entities otherwise identified as intentional agents. Begrimed by a pall of smut and decadence, and undefended save for the laughing alibi of the crowd, the carnival self is no self at all. Bakhtin made much of the openness and unfinalizability of the carnival self. The body grotesque is all orifice and protuberance, prepared to fuse with all around it. Substances pass into and out of it as if through a colander. Lacking form and wholeness it has neither private space nor memory. It exists, rather, outside of space and time. It is a participant, but never a spectator or an actor. Indeed, as Bakhtin (1968) described, “Footlights would destroy a carnival, as the absence of footlights would destroy a theatrical performance. Carnival is not a spectacle seen by the people; they live in it …. While carnival lasts, there is no other life outside it” (p. 7). While carni-val lasts, while the carnival self is eating, drinking, fornicating, or puking, it is cultivating its alibi for being— laughter. The collective orientation of carnival—its laughing alibi, absence of history, and absolute openness to the carnival surround—operate against the dialogic goals of the novelized self. Where carnival presupposes fusion, dialogue insists on distinctiveness; that is, it requires at least two noncoincident consciousnesses, each outside the other. However, the two Utopian visions of self—one effaced in carnival, and one striving romantically for definition and individuation by giving form to the other—were to find a more conciliatory relationship in Bakhtin’s later writings. This is seen most clearly in his argument regarding the formgenerating function of “outsidedness” in carnival laughter. Bakhtin (1970/1986) considered outsideness to be “the most powerful lever of understanding” (p. 7). It is a concept that runs throughout his work, and one

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seen by Russian scholars and critics as the common ground of his ethics and aesthetics. At every turn, Bakhtin insisted on the necessary singularity and separateness of each individual in relation to another as an enabling condition for constructing the forms of things, be they aesthetic works or persuasive ideological discourses. This holds as much for the forming and representation of self as it does for forming and representing the other. Speaking of the authorcreator, Bakhtin (1981) wrote: (He) can represent the temporal-spatial world and its events only as if he had seen and observed them himself, only as if he were an omnipresent witness to them. Even had he created an autobiography or a confession of the most astonishing truthfulness, all the same he, as its creator, remains outside the world he has represented in his work. If I relate (or write about) an event that has just happened to me, then I as the teller (or writer) of this event am already outside the time and space in which the event occurred. It is just as impossible to forge an identity between myself, my own “I,” and that “I” “that is the subject of my stories as it is to lift myself up by my own hair. (p. 256) If one part of what it means to strive toward a novelized state is to engage and struggle with the discourses of others, the other part is all about the finalization of a whole. According to Emerson (1997), one of Bakhtin’s most sympathetic critics and students: It is precisely because unfinalizability and malleability are inherent in living personalities, in everyday events, and in the time-space parameters that the achievement (not the acknowledgment, not the discovery, but precisely the achievement) of a whole is so indispensable—and so laden with obligation. The whole of something can only be seen from a position that is outside of it in space and after it in time. But since a whole can be variously realized from an infinite number of angles (and each of these realizations will be fully recognized as such only by its own “finalizer”), a sense of wholeness is always “bestowed,” not merely decreed or revealed. It looks different, and differently perfected, to each person who beholds it. Human beings are form-bestowing creatures. It is part of our nature to crave to finalize. This craving, according to Bakhtin, is the aesthetic instinct, (pp. 220–221) Indeed, for Bakhtin, laughter stood in a specific aesthetic relationship to reality. It is a weapon “like fists and sticks,” but a weapon of distinction because

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it is entirely fearless and, for this reason, progressive: “Laughter liberates us from fear, and this work of laughter…is an indispensable prerequisite for…consciousness. In order to look at the world soberly, I must cease to be afraid. In this, laughter played a most serious role” (translated in Emerson, 1997, p. 96). Similarly, laughter is “a specific means for artistically visualizing and comprehending reality and, consequently, a specific means for structuring an artistic image, plot, or genre” (Bakhtin, 1963/1984, p. 164). Carnival laughter thus possesses enormous creative, form-shaping power. In linking carnival laughter to outsidedness, Bakhtin traced an argument in which laughter is connected to how we see. It is a detaching, individuating force that helps us to define our place in the world of other subjects. We cultivate laughter (of which the primary and most serious function is participatory) as a route to knowledge of the self through communicative exchange. What follows from all of this is that carnival is not a destructive defiance of the social order, but an intentional, creative, artistic rendering of self “for another, and through the other, for oneself” (Bakhtin, 1963/1984, p. 287). Its polar opposite is not seriousness, but stasis.

ADOLESCENT RISK-TAKING AS CARNIVAL • Why do you take risks? What do they mean to you? • (Drinking and partying is) something we’re all doing together, and then everyone’s really funny. It’s to be together and not worry too much about what you’re doing in front of these people. You can do outrageous things because you’re drunk. • Some risks are meaningless and stupid, and some are meaningful. A meaningful risk would be like…it could be stupid, like pissing on a cop’s car, but meaningful because probably everybody was drunk and it seemed really funny. • What’s appealing about taking risks? • That’s how you grow up—experiences. • I want to be a participant. • I don’t want to die a boring old fart. As suggested in the remarks of these teenagers, there is much to recommend Bakhtin’s analysis of carnival for understanding the functions and meanings of adolescent risk-taking. Like carnival, risk-taking entails a laughing outsidedness that is intentional, participatory, and individuating, shared between individuals who know and act toward one another on the basis of particular points of view To take a risk is to participate in a dialogic process that objectifies, or bestows form on various points of view—those of the individual, his or her peers, and the authority they often mean to parody. Teenagers who together organize their

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activities around taking drugs, shoplifting, defacing public property, or throwing rocks through storefront windows are giving form and expression to who they understand themselves to be. To be among them, in a sociocultural sense, is precisely to participate in those acts of self-definition. Risk-taking can thus been seen as an aesthetic device that organizes action and experience and contributes to self-definition. Bakhtin’s concepts of carnival and the novelistic self implicate two processes relevant to understanding the functions of risk-taking in adolescents’ social lives. One process is clearly sociocultural. In its broadest sense contemporary peer culture is itself remarkably differentiated and spectral—punks, rednecks, preppies, jocks, and so on embody a variety of identity forms and potentials; how much more so the fluid network of individual peer groups. Participating in the diversity of contemporary peer culture and actively engaging its multiple discourses in true novelistic fashion provides fertile ground for developing one’s self. Indeed, our analyses indicate that inertia sets in when individuals participate in peer groups whose risk-taking is particularly extreme and isolates them from contact with other teenagers and thus other ideological points of view. One member of such a group commented on its isolation from the local adolescent social scene as follows: We try not to get into that (social scene) anymore, because they’re all typical high school students. They’ll go to college and they fit in with school. A lot of the people I hang out with are dropouts and we are extremely prejudiced against the great percentage of the school and we try not to get into that kind of grouping. In describing the context of hallucinogenic drug use in particular, another member said, “We used to go to parties where parents weren’t there and hang out and stuff, but now we know older people. Now we go to people who live by themselves.” As Bakhtin would no doubt suggest, the refusal of these teenagers to seek out other points of view, to strive toward a novelized state, reduces opportunities for growth, power, choices and responsibility. Beyond the sociocultural implications for self-development, participating in peer culture also contributes to the awareness that one has a self of moral consequence. It is in this sense that ethical-aesthetic process is most strongly implicated. The shaping of multiple discourses, especially those that conflict, engages a verbal-ideological decentering through the “interillumination” of self in relation to others. It introduces an outsidedness inherent to other aesthetic experiences, and essential to the formation of what Bakhtin described as the ideological consciousness. It is noteworthy in this regard that risk-taking can be even more explicitly novelized. It is, after all, the stuff of which stories are made. Teenagers tell and retell their risks and adventures—stylize and parody themselves—and this, too, is significant for the project of self-development.

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Seen as an aesthetic process of novelization, adolescent risk-taking occupies a privileged role in self-development. It is, however, but one of any number of examples of aesthetic activity. To properly place it in a larger context, it is useful to consider another aesthetic domain that appeals to adolescents, particularly those of Latin American descent.

LOWRIDER ART Lowrider art appeals in a special way to Hispanic adolescents living in the United States—males and females, but mostly males. It usually consists of elaborate pencil or ink renderings of classic lowrider cars, such as the Impala, that are often draped with bikini-clad women. In its early years, the work was published in Lowrider Magazine, and looked something like the image in Fig. 5.1.

FIG. 5.1. Early-style lowrider art. From Lowrider Magazine, 2002. Reprinted with permission of Primedia Magazine, Inc. Copy right © 2002. All rights reserved.

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Over time, the magazine editors began to receive artwork in such quantity that they decided in 1992 to start a new magazine devoted to it entirely. Of particular note is the transformation of the form over the course of the past decade. As illustrated in Fig. 5.2, the artwork began to introduce distinctly Mexican cultural motifs. There are now repeated themes in lowrider art that include Aztec and other pre-Columbian images, including the Virgin of Guadalupe, and the Mexican Revolution. In fact, as illustrated in Fig, 5.3, the art has become increasingly symbolic, often leaving out of the picture its own namesake (the lowrider car) in the process of constructing works of cultural and political, as welll as aesthetic significance.

FIG. 5.2. Lowrider art reflecting Mexican cultural motifs, by Danny Villescas. Courtesy of Fred Castro (http://www.thecastrocollection.com/).

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FIG. 5.3. Example of lowrider art integrating U.S. and Mexican symbols, by Edition Davis. Courtesy of Fred Castro (http://www.thecastrocollection.com/). Lowrider art is seen in the Hispanic community as a means of celebrating Mexican heritage. In an interview conducted by Grady (2002) as a part of a larger ethnographic study, one of the magazine editors quoted the editorial policy printed in the submission guidelines that “artwork must be free of gang slogans, violence, weapons, drugs and/or alcohol” (p. 175). The editor sees the magazine as a tool of cultural expression; others have described it as a way to demonstrate that Mexicans “could do other things besides work in the fields” (Grady, 2002, p. 175). Indeed, the genre has been an inspiration to Hispanic

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adolescents of both genders: It is traced onto school notebooks, posters are purchased and displayed on bedroom walls, T-shirts bearing lowrider art are highly prized, and the art is copied and shared. Ethnographers such as Grady, as well as Goldman (1997) who studied signification in barrio art T-shirts, have argued that the montage created, the juxtaposition of vernacular iconography, constructs a bridge between adolescents’ Mexican heritage and their current U.S. residence. Asked to comment on different categories of lowrider art images, adolescents identify as meaningful those that portray Mexico’s indigenous heritage: pre-Columbian stone carvings, Aztec warriors in positions of victory and strength, and other historical images that contest the conquest and colonization of Mexico. In this crowd the bikini-clad women lack a certain appeal. Interestingly, the genre appears to be gaining currency among adolescents of a variety of ethnic and economic backgrounds, and in this respect creating a bridge across ethnic groups. Scrutinizing lowrider art through a Bakhtinian lens shows it to be a particularly illustrative case of aesthetic novelization. The transformation of the art form itself toward an increasingly direct and dialogic encounter of two cultural traditions is especially remarkable. Lowrider art may be inter-preted as a creative response to the cultural mainstream’s impossibly wedded assimilationist demands on the one hand, and its marginalizing stereotypes and practices on the other. At the other extreme, it may be interpreted as a multicultural hybridization of historically and culturally significant meanings. Either way, it serves the serious function of constructing an ideological consciousness, as Bakhtin elaborated the process.

A PHILOSOPHY OF THE ORDINARY According to his biographers and translators, Bakhtin was the first to formulate a comprehensive philosophy of the ordinary—of the disorganized, unsystematic, moment-to-moment prosaics of experience, as distinct from the ordered, abstract, and idealized poetics. The distinction plays out in one of Batesoris “metalogues” with his daughter, who is interested to know why things get in a muddle: “People spend a lot of time tidying things, but they never seem to spend time muddling them. Things just seem to get in a muddle by themselves. And then people have to tidy them again” (in Morson & Emerson, 1990, p. 29). Deflecting his daughter’s call for a poetics of muddling, Bateson replied simply that the world includes a lot more messiness than tidiness. Messiness just is. So, too, for Bakhtin, who argued, in contrast to the leading intellectuals of his time (including Freud), that it is not disorder and fragmentation that requires explanation, but integrity, unity, and wholeness. Set against the messiness of everyday life, unity is always a matter of work. In the case of developing a self,

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it is a lifelong and incomplete project. According to Bakhtin, the self is neither discovered or given, or even fully constructed; it can only be posited. In this regard, he struck a chord sympathetic to that of Baldwin, who argued that an essential ingredient to self-development is “the intent to be a subject,” that is, a forward-pressing striving to be what one is not but may yet become. For Baldwin and Bakhtin, the self leaning into the future as hypothesis and potentiality, the positing (i.e., of a self forever poised to become something else), is aesthetically formed and provisionally achieved by virtue of the ethical obligations of each moment and each situation. In his first published essay, “Art and Responsibility,” Bakhtin wrote that, “personality must become responsible through and through. All its aspects must not only arrange themselves along the temporal flow of its life, but must also intersect one another in the unity of blame and responsibility” (translated in Morson & Emerson, 1990, p. 31). Only a “pretender” would do otherwise. Such a person, according to Bakhtin, does not feign the identity of another, but rather avoids the project of selfhood altogether, either by living according to the lofty abstract norms and demands of another, or by failing to do so; that is, by failing to engage the other dialogically. An example of this is provided by our teen-age subjects who “are extremely prejudiced against the great percentage of the school,” and refuse to “get into that kind of grouping.” Whether the individual succumbs to a moral order not of his or her own making, or rails against the other in the absence of engaging a process of objectification, the person is “washed on all sides by the waves of an endless, empty potentiality” (translated in Morson & Emerson, 1990, p. 31); personal responsibility is null and void. By Bakhtin’s logic, the unity of self, its integrity, does not answer to the question, “Who am I?” This is rather the question of self-continuity as formulated by Erikson and pursued in modern approaches to identity development (Chandler, Chandler, Laionde, Sokol, & Hallett, 2003; Moshman, 2004). However, the lasting and perdurable “I” persisting across time, space, and accrued experience is not what Bakhtin is after. Only part of the project of becoming involves arranging oneself diachronically along the “temporal flow of life” and embracing the twinned epistemological and moral imperatives of knowing oneself and being true to oneself. Left in the dust of contemporary scholarship as it stampedes toward the integral self continuous in time is what Bakhtin considered the most difficult task of self-development: the creation of a self unified within the synchronous, ethically weighted moment, whose integrity I can stand behind—which I can respect. Only then will I seek no “alibis” (Emerson, 1997, p. 238). For Piaget, respect constituted the very source of moral law and led ultimately to the “morality of goodness.” His particular version of respect, however, is of the type given by one to another, bestowed on another by virtue of his or her location on our personal metric of value. Missing from his argument, missing from the entire contemporary enterprise devoted to the study

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of moral life and identity, is the self-respect envisioned by Bakhtin as essential to engaging in any communicative act that I can stand behind. This leaves out a lot. What I have attempted to accomplish here, in admittedly fledgling form, is to map out an argument that implicates his theory of aesthetics, including his conceptions of carnival, the novelistic self, and the development of an ideological consciousness, as relevant to contemporary discourse on selfdevelopment. In light of the currently divided and divisive approaches to adolescent risk-taking, in light of the ambiguity inherent to adolescents’ very own reflections on their risk-taking (“Stealing beer from a truck shows what lengths you’ll go to to be with the group”; “I’d never do anything that’s immoral”), Bakhtin’s reading of “becoming a person” is a particularly promising antidote. The binocular view that it brings into focus suggests that much of adolescents’ social action, however carnivalesque—because it is carnivalesque—may be profitably explored as an aesthetic ground for testing and developing the self-respect and constructing the Muse necessary to navigate the ordinary and messy moral landscape of their lives.

REFERENCES Acland, C. (1995). Youth, murder, spectacle: The cultural politics of “youth in crisis.” Boulder, CO: Westview. Bakhtin, M. (1968). Rabelais and his world. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Bakhtin, M. (1981). The dialogic imagination. Austin: University of Texas Press. Bakhtin, M. (1984). Problems of Dostoevsky’s poetics. (Emerson, Ed. & Trans.). Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. (Original work published 1963) Bakhtin, M. (1986). Response to a question from Novy Mir. In C.Emerson & M. Holquist (Eds.), Speech genres and other late essays: M.M. Bakhtin (pp. 1–7). Austin: University of Texas Press. (Original work published 1970) Bakhtin, M. (1993). Toward a philosophy of the act. Austin: University of Texas Press. Calasso, R. (1993). The marriage of Cadmus and Harmony. New York: Knopf. Chandler, M., Chandler, M., Lalonde, C., Sokol, B., & Hailett, D. (2003). Personal persistence, identity development, and suicide: A study of native and non-native North American adolescents. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development, 68 (Whole No. 273). Dohrn, B. (2000). “Look out, kid, it’s something you did”: The criminalization of children. In V. Polakow (Ed.), The public assault on Americas children: Poverty, violence and juvenile injustice (pp. 157–187). New York: Teachers College Press. Emerson, C. (1997). The first hundred years of Mikhail Bakhtin. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Fornas, J., & Bolin, G. (Eds.). (1995). Youth culture in late modernity. London: Sage. Goldman, D. (1997). Down for La Raza: Barrio art t-shirts, Chicano pride, and cultural resistance. Journal of Folklore Research, 34, 123–138. Grady, K. (2002). Lowrider art and Latino students in the rural Midwest. In S.Wortham, E.Murillo, & E.Hamann (Eds.), Education in the new Latino diaspora: Policy and the politics of identity. Westport, CT: Ablex.

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Hancock, L. (2000). Framing children in the news: The face and color of youth crime in America. In V.Polakow (Ed.), The public assault on Americas children: Poverty, violence and juvenile injustice (pp. 78–98). New York: Teachers College Press. Lightfoot, C. (1997). The culture of adolescent risk-taking. New York: Guilford. Lightfoot, C. (2000). On respect. New Ideas in Psychology, 18, 177–185. Lightfoot, C. (2003). Breathing lessons: Self as genre and aesthetic. In T.Brown & L. Smith (Eds.), Reductionism and the development of knowledge (pp. 177–198). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Males, M. (1999). Framing youth: 10 myths about the next generation. Monroe, ME: Common Courage Press. Mechling, J. (2001). On my honor: Boy Scouts and the making of American youth. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Morson, G., & Emerson, C. (1990). Mikhail Bakhtin: Creation ofaprosaics. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Moshman, D. (2004). Theories of self and selves as theories: Identity in Rwanda. In C. Lightfoot, C.Lalonde, & M.Chandler (Eds.), Developing conceptions of psychological life (pp. 183–206). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Nucci, L. (1996). Morality and the personal sphere of actions. In E.Reed, E.Turiel, & T. Brown (Eds.), Values and knowledge (pp. 41–60). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Piaget, J. (1995). Sociological studies. London: Routledge. Polakow, V. (Ed.). (2000). The public assault on Americas children: Poverty, violence and juvenile injustice. New York: Teachers College Press. Shakespeare, W. (1996). A winter’s tale. Champaign, IL: Project Gutenberg; Boulder, CO: NetLibrary. http://www.netlibrary.com/urlapi.asp?action=summary&v=l&bookid=1013900 Yeats, W.B. (1959). Mythologies. New York: Macmillan Press.

6 Adolescents’ Peer Interactions: Conflict and Coordination Among Personal Expression, Social Norms, and Moral Reasoning Stacey S.Horn University of Illinois at Chicago

Peer group exclusion, teasing, and harassment are a part of most adolescents’ lives. As adults we are often left asking why it is that adolescents frequently treat each other with such cruelty and meanness. Some argue that it is because of a moral decline in our society and that adolescents are out of control. Is this the case, however? Are adolescents today simply lacking morality? Or, rather, is it that adolescents’ social worlds are complex and as such they are faced with coordinating conflicting needs or values in negotiating their peer relationships? For example, do adolescents sometimes view exclusion as a legitimate form of social regulation? In this chapter I discuss the unique complexity of adolescents’ peer groups and some of the ways in which this complexity may be related to the types of decisions adolescents make about how to treat one another.

COMPLEXITY IN ADOLESCENTS' PEER GROUPS Peers and peer relationships (or lack of them) are a critical part of adolescents’ social worlds. During the transition into adolescence, the peer social world moves from being comprised of small groups of predominantly samesex friends or playmates to a much larger and more complex system that has multiple levels (Brown, Mory, & Kinney, 1994). Adolescents, like younger children, continue to have best friendships and friendship groups (cliques) that are organized around common interests and reciprocal affections. In addition, however, they also become part of a larger peer group structure in which individuals are categorized into groups based on their interests, activities, values, and modes of personal expression (e.g., dress; Brown, 1989; Brown et al., 1994). These groups emerge in adolescence due to both sociostructural and developmental factors. In most U.S. school systems, as children get older the structure of the school becomes larger and more complex. This increase in size and complexity makes it difficult for adolescents to know each of their classmates on an individual 113

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level. Thus, the larger peer group structure that emerges in adolescence provides adolescents with a way to make sense of this expanding social world by giving them categories or prototypes on which to base their evaluations of their peers. Additionally, as adolescents move into high school they are confronted with a much larger and more diverse array of classes, activities, and interests that they can pursue. Coupled with the increased autonomy granted to adolescents by parents and other adults, adolescents’ social worlds become much more diverse, more peer driven, and allow for more time spent with peers in the absence of adults. On the developmental side, adolescents gain cognitive skills that allow them to see beyond interpersonal relationships (e.g., best friendships) and to construct broader representations of the peer group and the peer group system that involve multiple levels, networks, and groups (Brown, 1990; Selman, 1980). Additionally, during adolescence the development of one’s personal identity becomes much more salient to individuals (Erikson, 1959, 1968). As a part of this process, adolescents use their peer groups as venues through which to try on and test out their various identities (Newman & Newman, 1976; Pugh & Hart, 1999). Further, with the onset of puberty, adolescents’ peer groups become a way for them to learn about and experiment with their emerging sexuality and sexual identity (Dunphy, 1963). This also leads to an expansion in the peer group. Prior to puberty, children’s peer groups are comprised predominantly of members of the same gender. With the onset of puberty, however, most adolescents begin to develop an interest in opposite-gender peers and start to form mixed-gender groups. These groups serve as a way for adolescents to engage in heterosocial behavior and to learn about social practices and norms regarding dating and intimacy (Dunphy, 1963). These three developmental factors (cognition, identity, and sexuality) combined with the sociostructural factors of increased size and complexity of school, as well as the diversity of opportunities available to adolescents, support the emergence of a peer system that is based not on “who hangs around with who” but rather on prototypic group representations that are based on the types of activities, attitudes, behaviors, and values different groups of individuals have in common (McLellan & Youniss, 1999). As such, this larger peer group system is a more abstract representation of the peer world than adolescents’ actual social networks (McLellan & Youniss, 2000). In turn, these peer group or identity prototypes have associated with them particular social norms and conventions for behaviors, activities, and other modes of personal expression that adolescents use in developing their own personal identities and in stratifying the broader social milieu. Newman and Newman (1976) argued that peer groups not only provide the prototypes available to and venues through which adolescents test out their identities, they also provide them with critical information, feedback, and support (or nonsupport) regarding these varying identities. Through this feedback system then, peer groups and peer group norms

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set the boundaries for what is considered appropriate or “cool” individual expression and who is granted status within that peer system. It appears then, that one of the complexities of adolescence is trying to balance the needs to create a personal identity and to “fit in” to the peer group or peer groups to which you want to belong. In doing this, adolescents are also taking notice of their peers, their peers’ emergent identity constructions, and the larger groups’ reactions to these identities. Thus, in evaluating and interacting with one’s peers, adolescents are then confronted with having to negotiate and coordinate not only moral considerations, but also salient personal and social ones. Sometimes, an adolescent’s identity expression may coalesce with the norms and conventions valued by the peer group. In this case there will likely be little conflict between the peer group and this individual. Conversely, an adolescent’s identity expression may be outside the norms or conventions valued by the group, thereby creating conflict for both the individual and the others within that peer system. In this circumstance, how do adolescents negotiate and coordinate these conflicting dimensions? More specifically, what is the relationship among personal expression, social group norms, and adolescents’ evaluations of the treatment of others? Using social cognitive domain theory as a framework, I have been investigating these issues for the past few years. Specifically, I have been investigating the ways in which adolescents reason about issues of exclusion, harassment, and unfairness based on peer group membership, gender identity, and sexual orientation. I chose these three social categories because they are highly salient to adolescents’ lives. Additionally, these categories seem to be dimensions along which adolescents get excluded, ostracized, teased, or harassed in schools. Further, unlike race and biological sex, which are perceived by most individuals to be innate, peer group membership, gender expression, and sexual orientation are more often seen as chosen expressions of one’s identity, and therefore as categories that can be changed. As such, there seem to be more social norms that serve to regulate adolescents’ identity expressions within these three categories. This research has begun to illuminate the ways in which adolescents coordinate the different dimensions of their social interactions and the factors that impact their reasoning regarding these interactions. In the next section of this chapter, I briefly describe social cognitive domain theory and its usefulness in studying how adolescents reason about peer group relationships. Then I discuss relevant findings from two empirical studies investigating these issues. In the last section of the chapter I discuss implications of these results for moral education.

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SOCIAL COGNITIVE DOMAIN THEORY AND ADOLESCENT PEER RELATIONSHIPS In social cognitive domain theory (Turiel, 1983, 1998; Turiel, Killen, & Helwig, 1987) it is proposed that social judgments are influenced by the reasoning processes that individuals bring to bear on those judgments. Specifically, it is posited that there are three conceptually distinct domains of social reasoning— moral, societal, and psychological—that individuals use when understanding and making decisions about their social worlds (Turiel, 1983, 1998). The moral domain pertains to issues of others’ welfare (harm), justice (comparative treatment and distribution), and rights. The societal domain pertains to issues involving the rules, norms, and conventions that coordinate the social interactions of individuals within social systems. In the psychological domain, knowledge pertains to interpersonal relationships, the understanding of individuals as psychological systems, and those issues over which individuals have personal jurisdiction (Smetana, 1995; Turiel, 1983). Recent research on peer relationships utilizing this theoretical framework has investigated issues of gender and racial exclusion in diverse peer group contexts (Killen, Lee-Kim, McGlothlin, & Stangor, 2002; Killen & Stangor, 2001), the impact of stereotypes of adolescent peer groups on adolescents’ reasoning about retribution (Horn, Killen, & Stangor, 1999); the impact of ambiguity on adolescents’ reasoning about exclusion based on adolescent peer groups (Horn, 2003), as well as how adolescents’ beliefs about gender norms and sexuality impact their reasoning about the treatment of others based on gender expression or sexual orientation (Horn, 2002; Horn & Nucci, 2002, 2003). Overall this research suggests that adolescents predominantly view exclusion, teasing, and peer harassment as wrong and that they think it is wrong because it is unfair or hurtful. Thus, it would seem then, based on this research, that adolescents do have a moral sense when it comes to relating with their peers. This research, however, has also delin-eated a number of factors that are related to adolescents’ reasoning regarding these issues. For example, Killen and her colleagues (Killen, Lee-Kim, et aL, 2002) found that context is related to the type of reasoning individuals will bring to bear on their decisions about peer relationships. In more intimate or close relationships, such as who you are going to be friends with, children and adolescents used more personal reasoning in justifying why exclusion is acceptable. For example, it is okay to not play with John because he is Black because you should be able to choose who your friends are. Conversely, in contexts in which the peer group was more institutionally sanctioned (e.g., a school-based group) children and adolescents were more likely to evaluate exclusion as wrong and used moral reasoning in justifying why. For example, it is not okay for the other students to exclude John from the math club (because he is Black) because all students should have the right to participate in school activities and that would be unfair.

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Thus, this research suggests that children and adolescents prioritize different domains of reasoning in justifying or not justifying peer group exclusion in intimate versus nonintimate contexts. That is to say, in friendship contexts the fact that excluding a particular person may be hurtful to that person is subordinated to the individuals’ prerogative to be friends with whom they choose. In other contexts, however, individuals’ prerogative to hang out with whom they choose is subordinated to the larger issue of equal access and fairness. Social cognitive domain theory provides a meaningful framework to investigate the ways in which adolescents coordinate personal, social, and moral dimensions of their relationships with one another. Further, although research suggests that individuals at all ages draw on these three domains of social knowledge in reasoning about exclusion, how these domains of knowledge get coordinated and applied to issues of peer group inclusion or exclusion changes as children move into adolescence (Horn, 2003; Killen, Lee-Kim, et al, 2002; Killen, McGlothlin, & Lee-Kim, 2002). This research suggests that like younger children, many adolescents view exclusion that is based solely on one’s social group membership (in a particular race, gender, or peer group) as wrong from a moral viewpoint (it is unfair or hurtful; Horn, 2003; Killen, Lee-Kim, et al., 2002), but also provides evidence that adolescents are more likely than children to evaluate excluding someone from a peer group or friendship group as acceptable (Killen, Lee-Kim, et al., 2002; Killen, McGlothlin, & Lee-Kim, 2002). Additionally, adolescents are also more likely to justify peer group exclusion as acceptable by making appeals to such things as the identity of the group, group functioning, group norms, or personal choice (Horn, 2003; Killen, Lee-Kim, et al., 2002). These results suggest that as children get older they have an increased knowledge of the conventional features of groups (group norms, group identity, group functioning) that are legitimately necessary to the organization and maintenance of groups (Bukowski & Sippolla, 2001; Turiel, 1983), as well as an expanded understanding of issues that are inherently personal and legitimately up to the individual to decide (Nucci, 1996, 2001). In my research I have found that adolescents’ developing understanding of social systems as well as their expanded sense of the personal domain are related to how they understand and make decisions about their peer relationships. Specifically, three primary issues emerge when investigating how adolescents negotiate and reason about issues of personal expression, social norms, and the treatment of others: adolescents’ beliefs and assumptions about normativity or acceptability of others, adolescents’ own social identity (the peer group they belong to), and age. To discuss the ways in which these factors impact adolescents’ reasoning, I draw on data from two different studies that investigated how adolescents reason about peer group exclusion based on peer group membership (Horn, 2003) and gender expression and sexual orientation (Horn & Nucci, 2002, 2003).

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ADOLESCENTS’ BELIEFS AND ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT NORMATIVITY OR ACCEPTABILITY OF OTHERS BASED ON THEIR PEER GROUP MEMBERSHIP GENDER EXPRESSION, OR SEXUAL ORIENTATION During adolescence, social norms regarding dress, appearance, behaviors, and activities are quite strong. An individual’s adherence to these norms often impacts the way in which that individual is perceived by his or her peers and also influences the status one is afforded within the peer system as well as the groups or social relationships to which one has access. Thus, the degree to which an individual’s identity expressions (in terms of dress, appearance, behaviors, and activities) conform to the social norms within the peer system impacts how others within that system will view that individual. In both studies we asked adolescents to evaluate the acceptability of the individuals who were being excluded by others from a group. In the study investigating exclusion based on peer group membership, adolescents (N=379) ranked individuals from certain peer groups as more acceptable than those from other groups. In fact, the results suggested that a hierarchy of peer groups existed at this school with “jocks” and “preppies” at the top and “dirties” and “gothics” at the bottom (for a description of the groups, see Table 6.1). Similarly, in the study investigating adolescents’ judgments and reasoning regarding exclusion based on gender expression and sexual orientation, adolescents (N=264) rated straight and gender-conforming targets as more acceptable than gay, lesbian, or gender nonconforming targets (see Table 6.2 for a description of the targets). Further, the targets who were gender nonconforming (both gay and straight) in terms of their appearance were rated as the least acceptable.

TABLE 6.1 Descriptions of Adolescent Reference Groups Used in Study Group

Description

Cheerleaders Involved in cheerleading and danceline, part of the peer culture, accepted by teachers, participate in a moderate amount of delinquent activity (drinking). Female Dirties

Wear old, dirty, or grunge-style clothing, disengaged from school and teachers, smart, participate in moderate to heavy amounts of delinquent activity (drinking, smoking pot, trouble at school). Male and female.

Druggies

Engage in heavy amounts of delinquent activity (drinking, heavy drug use, trouble at school), disengaged from school and teachers, as well as peers, tough. Mixed gender but more male.

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Gothics

Wear black clothes and makeup, engage in deviant behavior such as witchcraft, like music and concerts, indifferent or defiant attitudes toward school and teachers, loners and outcasts. Mixed gender but more female.

Jocks

Participate in sports and other school activities, part of the popular peer culture, favored by teachers, not smart, participate in a moderate amount of delinquent activity (drinking, smoking pot). Male.

Preppies

Extremely involved in school activities such as sports and student council, part of the popular peer culture, liked by teachers, do well in school, wealthy, participate in moderate amounts of delinquent behavior (drinking). Male and female.

These results suggest that adolescents’ normative beliefs about their peers are influenced by individuals’ personal expressions or identities regarding social reference group, gender expression, and sexual orientation. Further, adolescents who were the most visibly nonconforming in their identity expressions (those labeled as dirties or gothics or those with nonconforming gender appearance) were seen as least acceptable overall, suggesting that personal expression in terms of appearance is a salient normative dimension along which adolescents evaluate each other. Although this evidence suggests that adolescents do judge their peers based on their identity expressions, is it the case that these judgments impact adolescents’ evaluations and reasoning regarding the treatment of others?

TABLE 6.2 Descriptions of Targets Used in the Scenarios Gender, Sexual Description Orientation, Gender Expression Male, gay, genderconforming

George is a gay male high school student. He plays on the school baseball team. He is a B student. He dresses and acts like most of the other guys at school. To all outward appearances, he seems just like any other boy at the school.

Male, straight, appearance nonconforming

Steve is a straight male high school student. He plays on the school baseball team. He is a B student. He dresses and acts differently from most of the other guys at school. For example he acts feminine, and sometimes wears fingernail polish and eyeliner.

Male, gay, appearance Mark is a gay male high school student. He plays on the school nonconforming baseball team. He is a B student. He dresses and acts differently from most of the other guys at school. For example he acts feminine, and sometimes wears fingernail polish and eyeliner.

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Male, straight, activity Todd is a straight male high school student. He is a member of nonconforming the local ballet company. He is a B student. He dresses and acts like most of the other guys at school. Male, gay, activity nonconforming

Matt is a gay male high school student. He is a member of the local ballet company. He is a B student. He dresses and acts like most of the other guys at school.

Female, lesbian, gender-conforming

Jenny is a lesbian high school student. She plays on the school volleyball team. She is a B student. She dresses and acts like most of the other girls at school. To all outward appearances, she seems just like any other girl at the school.

Female, straight, appearance nonconforming

Ashley is a straight female high school student. She plays on the school volleyball team. She is a B student. She dresses and acts differently from most of the other girls at school. For example, she acts masculine, has a crew cut, and never wears makeup or dresses.

Female, lesbian, appearance nonconforming

Mary is a lesbian high school student. She plays on the school volleyball team. She is a B student. She dresses and acts differently from most of the other girls at school. For example, she acts masculine, has a crew cut, and never wears makeup or dresses.

Female, straight, activity nonconforming

Talia is a straight female high school student. She is a running back on the high school football team. She is a B student. She dresses and acts like most of the other girls at school.

Female, lesbian, activity nonconforming

Amy is a lesbian high school student. She is a running back on the school football team. She is a B student. She dresses and acts like most of the other girls at school.

RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ACCEPTABILITY JUDGMENTS AND ADOLESCENTS' EVALUATIONS AND REASONING REGARDING THE TREATMENT OE OTHERS In the study on adolescents’ evaluations and reasoning regarding the treatment of others based on gender expression and sexual orientation, we asked adolescents to evaluate whether they thought it was right or wrong to exclude, tease, harass, or assault individuals because they were gay, lesbian, or gender nonconforming and to provide reasoning for why they thought it was right or wrong. Overall, most adolescents evaluated it as wrong to exclude, tease, harass, or assault someone based on his or her gender expression or sexual orientation. In fact, virtually no adolescents evaluated it as acceptable to harass or assault someone based on his or her gender expression or sexual orientation and

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virtually all of them provided moral reasons (fairness to others, human welfare, human equality) for why this was wrong. For scenarios in which physical harm to the other was not an issue (exclusion) , however, adolescents were more likely to endorse the exclusion of those that were nonnormative (rated as less acceptable) as acceptable. That is, adolescents evaluated exclusion as less wrong if the target was gay or lesbian or gender nonconforming in appearance. Additionally, for the exclusion scenarios, adolescents utilized personal choice reasoning (they can do whatever they want) in justifying their judgments much more than in the stories regarding teasing, harassing, or assault. Further, for the exclusion stories, adolescents were more likely to utilize social norms reasoning (adhering to or negating norms) in relation to gender expression related to appearance. That is to say, adolescents were sensitive to social norms regarding gender appearance in justifying their judgments regarding issues of exclusion. For those adolescents who were nonconforming in their gender expression, participants were more likely to endorse exclusion as acceptable because the individual did not adhere to social norms regarding gender. Interestingly, this was not the case for activity, suggesting that gender norms regarding appearance may be more rigid in adolescence than social norms regarding the types of activities in which one can participate. Thus, based on these results, it seems that adolescents do use moral reasoning when evaluating issues of how others are treated. It also seems to be the case, however, that when it comes to peer interaction (who one hangs around with), adolescents’ reasoning about what is right or wrong is related to how they coordinate their understanding of social norms regarding gender with their understanding of identity issues related to gender expression.

SOCIAL IDENTITY From our study on adolescents’ reasoning about exclusion based on peer group membership, we also have evidence that those adolescents who identify with groups that hold a privileged or accepted position within the peer group structure are more likely to view their own identity expressions as normative and less likely to view the identity expressions of adolescents in less accepted groups as normative. These beliefs about normativity, then, seem to impact their evaluations and reasoning about peer interactions within school. When one’s identity expression conflicts with the social norms of the group, exclusion is more likely to be seen as legitimate (based on conventional reasons) than when one’s identity expression conforms to the social norms of the group. Further, adolescents who adopt “normative” identity expressions are more likely to view peer group exclusion as a legitimate form of social regulation rather than as a moral issue. That is, as adolescents negotiate their identities within the peer social milieu, exclusion serves a regulatory function in which those with power

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and status based on their own identity expressions maintain their privileged position by denying those with alternative identity expressions access to their group.

AGE-RELATED DIFFERENCES Research on the development of conventional reasoning suggests that at this age (14–16-year-olds), adolescents begin to understand social structures as systemic and view conventions and social norms as necessary to the regulation and functioning of the system (Turiel, 1983). Further, adolescents at this age view the social system as uniform, having fixed roles and a static hierarchical organization (Turiel, 1983). Conversely, older adolescents (17- and 18-yearolds) view conventions and norms as “’nothing but’ societal standards that exist through habitual use” (Turiel, 1983, p. 103) and thus are less likely to see them as necessary in maintaining the social system. It may be the case then, that as adolescents’ understanding of social systems is developing, the peer group system becomes one arena in which this emerging knowledge is applied. That is, if middle adolescents understand conventions as necessary to the maintenance of the social system, then others’ identity expressions that are nonconventional may be seen as a threat to the peer system, and as such, they may be more likely to view exclusion as a legitimate form of social regulation rather than as an issue of moral harm. In both studies we found significant differences in adolescents’ judgments and reasoning based on age. Middle adolescents (9th- and 10th-graders) were more likely to evaluate exclusion as acceptable, used more conventional reasoning and stereotypes and less moral reasoning in justifying their judgments, and were less likely to evaluate those adolescents who were non-normative in their personal expression as acceptable than older adolescents (11th- and 12thgraders). Interestingly, this is also the age period when adolescents’ peer relationships are also changing the most, becoming larger and more complex (Brown, 1990; Brown et al., 1994). Thus, it might be argued that peer conflicts related to issues of exclusion and teasing are the result of adolescents’ trying to make sense of this expanding and increasingly complex peer system, as well as their own place within that system.

DISCUSSION The results presented in this chapter suggest that as adolescents are trying to make sense of themselves and their expanding social world they are negotiating and coordinating personal, conventional, and moral considerations in their peer interactions. As adolescents are trying on and testing out different identity

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expressions they are also doing this within a peer group structure that has norms and conventions that impact how those identity expressions are perceived by others. Within the peer system certain identity expressions are seen as more normative than others and adolescents view the exclusion of those who are perceived as nonnormative as more legitimate. Additionally, the results suggest that adolescents who have more of an investment in the peer social system will be more likely to view exclusion as legitimate. For example, adolescents who identify with a peer group that benefits from the system (through status) are more likely to view the exclusion of those whose identity expressions are nonnormative as legitimate. Additionally, middle adolescents for whom adherence to conventions and norms is imperative to the maintenance of the system are also more likely to evaluate the exclusion of those whose identity expressions are counter to the system as legitimate. Research on the development of the self also suggests that during middle adolescence (14–16), when identity exploration is at its peak, adolescents are grappling with the conflicts and contradictions within their own self-constructs (Harter, 1999), putting them in a vulnerable position regarding their own sense of self. This vulnerability makes them extremely sensitive to the norms and conventions of the peer structure and the feedback this system gives them regarding their emergent sense of who they are. If the peer system provides positive and affirming feedback regarding their personal identity expressions, they will try to maintain the norms and values inherent in that system by excluding and teasing others who they view as a threat to this system. On the other hand, if the peer system provides them with negative and rejecting feedback regarding their personal identity expressions, they may try to do one of three things. They may try to change themselves to fit into the peer system, they may try to change the peer system, or they may place themselves (and their values) outside of the peer system completely. At the extremes, either of these options can lead to violence and harm directed toward the self or others. For some adolescents, the only way to resolve the conflict between who they are (their identity expression) and the norms and conventions of the adolescent social world is to kill themselves. For other adolescents, the way to resolve this conflict is to harm those that they perceive as negating or rejecting their identity expressions.

IMPLICATIONS FOR MORAL EDUCATION Piaget (1939/1965) argued, “In order to discover oneself as a particular individual, what is needed is a continuous comparison, the outcome of opposition, of discussion, and of mutual control” (p. 393), Adolescents’ peer groups do provide them with the conflict, resistance, and support necessary for

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them to begin to understand who they are, what they want to be, and how they fit within the larger social world (Pugh & Hart, 1999). Thus, there is a component to adolescent peer conflict that is developmentally necessary and appropriate when this conflict occurs between individuals of equal status and within an environment that is generally supportive. It is often the case, however, that adolescents’ peer interactions are also fraught with power imbalances in that certain types of identity expressions afford individuals more power and privilege within the peer system than others. In some cases, then, peer conflict, rather than being developmentally appropriate or healthy, serves to perpetuate a system that is unfair and often harmful. Thus, one of the goals of moral education should be to help adolescents coordinate their understanding of the social system (and the norms and values associated with it) with their understanding of moral principles such as fairness, individual rights, and human welfare. One way to do this is by asking adolescents to analyze social systems and social practices that unfairly advantage one group or type of person over another. For example, having students systematically investigate issues such as segregation and affirmative action will push adolescents to think about and try to coordinate issues of access, privilege, and individual merit. Another way to do this would be to have adolescents analyze the norms and values inherent in popular culture and how these norms and values support or constrain the types of identity expressions available to individuals. A second goal of moral education should be to ensure that schools are places in which healthy conflict, resistance, and opposition are fostered and in which adolescents are supported in negotiating the personal, social, and moral dimensions of their interactions with their peers. This can be done at the classroom or school level by creating an atmosphere in which multiple identity expressions and a diversity of views and opinions are encouraged, valued, and supported. For example, schools that value excellence in multiple domains (arts, sciences, athletics, leadership) create an environment in which multiple identity expressions are valued and supported. This in turn reduces the likelihood that certain identity expressions will be privileged over others, reducing the stratification of the peer group system. Additionally, classrooms in which a diversity of opinions and voices is presented, sought, and valued and in which respectful argument and negotiation are fostered can help students understand how to negotiate the complexity of the peer group world. Further, schoolwide conflict resolution programs that help adolescents analyze the different facets or perspectives within a conflict also help adolescents to practice coordinating the personal, social, and moral dimensions of the situation. Finally, a third goal of moral education should be to encourage adolescents to interact with a diversity of people within their school and community environment. Simple exposure to diverse groups, however, is not enough (Allport, 1954). These interactions should involve diverse adolescents working

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together toward a mutually beneficial goal. Through interacting with others, adolescents get to know one another on a more personal level, thus breaking down the stereotypes or assumptions they might have of one another. Additionally, by working toward a common goal, adolescents come to depend on one another and can begin to value the unique skills and knowledge that each person brings to the group.

CONCLUSION Adolescents’ peer groups are complex and negotiating relationships within the peer system involves personal, social, and moral dimensions. During adolescence, individuals are not only developing a broader understanding of social systems, including the peer system; they are also constructing a sense of who they are and who they want to be within this system. This can lead to conflict for some adolescents or between some groups of adolescents. Although some of this conflict may be helpful and developmentally appropriate, in negotiating these conflicts adolescents will often make decisions about how to treat others that are unfair or harmful. The goal of moral education, then, should be to help adolescents better negotiate conflicts between issues of personal expression and social norms so that they understand the impact that these factors have on the decisions they make about others.

REFERENCES Allport, G. (1954). The nature of prejudice. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Brown, B.B. (1989). Social type rating manual. Madison, WI: National Center on Effective Secondary Schools, University of Madison. Brown, B.B. (1990). Peer groups and peer cultures. In S.S.Feldman & G.R.Elliot (Eds.), At the threshold: The developing adolescent (pp. 171–196). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Brown, B.B., Mory, M., & Kinney, D. (1994). Casting adolescent crowds in a relational perspective: Caricature, channel, and context. In R.Montemayor, G.R.Adams, & T. P.Gullotta (Eds.), Personal relationships during adolescence (pp. 123–167). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Bukowski, W., & Sippolla, L. (2001). Groups, individuals, and victimization: A view of the peer system. In J.Juvonen & S.Graham (Eds.), Peer harassment in school: The plight of the vulnerable and victimized (pp. 242–262). New York: Guilford. Dunphy, D. (1963). The social structure of urban adolescent peer groups. Sociometry, 26, 230–246. Erikson, E. (1959). Identity and the life cycle. Psychological Issues, 1, 1–171. Erikson, E. (1968). Identity: Youth and crisis. New York: Norton. Harter, S. (1999). The construction of the self: A developmental perspective. New York: Guilford.

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Horn, S.S. (2002, November). Living outside the box: The impact of social norms on adolescents’ evaluations of peer exclusion and harassment. In S.Horn (Chair), Conflict, contradiction and contrarian elements of tolerance for others: Implications for education. Paper symposium conducted at the annual meeting of the Association for Moral Education, Chicago. Horn, S.S. (2003). Adolescents’ reasoning about exclusion from social groups. Developmental Psychology, 39, 71–84. Horn, S.S., Killen, M., & Stangor, C. (1999). The influence of stereotypes on adolescents’ moral reasoning. Journal of Early Adolescence, 19, 98–113. Horn, S.S., & Nucci, L.P. (2003). The multidimensionality of adolescents’ beliefs about and attitudes toward gay and lesbian peers in school. Equity and Excellence in Education, 36, 1–12. Horn, S.S., & Nucci, L.P. (2002, April). Adolescents’ conceptions of sexual orientation and gender conventions in relation to their moral evaluations of the treatment of gay, lesbian, and transgender peers. Paper presentation at the biennial meeting of the Society for Research in Adolescence, New Orleans, LA. Killen, M., Lee-Kim, J., McGlothlin, H., & Stangor, C. (2002). How children and adolescents evaluate gender and racial exclusion. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development, 67(4), Serial No. 271). Killen, M., McGlothlin, H., & Lee-Kim, J. (2002). Between individuals and culture: Individuals’ evaluations of exclusion from social groups. In H.Keller, Y.Poortinga, & A. Schoelmerich (Eds.), Between biology and culture: Perspectives on ontogenetic development (pp. 159–190). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Killen, M., & Stangor, C. (2001). Social reasoning about inclusion and exclusion in gender and race peer group contexts. Child Development, 72, 174–186. McLellan, J.A., & Youniss, J. (1999). A representational system for peer crowds. In I.E. Sigel (Ed.), Development of mental representation: Theories and applications (pp. 437–449). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Newman, P.R., & Newman, B.M. (1976). Early adolescence and its conflict: Group identity versus alienation. Adolescence, 11, 261–274. Nucci, L. (1996). Morality and the personal sphere of actions. In E.Reed, E.Turiel, & T. Brown (Eds.), Values and knowledge (pp. 41–60). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Nucci, L. (2001). Education in the moral domain. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Piaget, J. (1965). The moral judgment of the child. New York: The Free Press. (Original work published 1939) Pugh, M.J., & Hart, D. (1999). Identity development and peer group participation. In J. McLellan & M.J.Pugh (Eds.), The role of peer groups in adolescent social identity: Exploring the importance of stability and change. New Directions for Child and Adolescent Development (Vol. 84, pp. 55–70). San Francisco: Jossey Bass. Selman, R. (1980). The growth of interpersonal understanding: Developmental and clinical analyses. New York: Academic Press. Smetana, J.G. (1995). Morality in context: Abstractions, ambiguities and applications. Annals of Child Development, 10, 83–130. Turiel, E. (1983). The development of social knowledge: Morality and convention. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.

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Turiel, E. (1998). The development of morality. In W.Damon (Series Ed.) & N. Eisenberg (Vol. Ed.), Handbook of child psychology: Vol. 3. Social, emotional, andperson-ality development (5th ed., pp. 863–932). New York: Wiley. Turiel, E., Killen, M., & Helwig, C. (1987). Morality: Its structure, functions, and vagaries. In J.Kagan & S.Lamb (Eds.), The emergence of morality in young children (pp. 155–243). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

7 Negative Morality and the Goals of Moral Education Fritz K.Oser Institute of Pedagogy University of Fribourg, Fribourg, Switzerland

When she had been “clean and sober” for 15 years, a 36-year-old alcoholic in our study of how alcoholics and addicts recover integrity explained to us how she had finally learned from her mistakes. She was a very clever child, and had always been able to get away with things. Her parents, busy professionals, encouraged her creativity and independence. “I thought I had them fooled. I didn’t understand how I hurt them,” she said, “I just kept heading down the wrong road until I finally hit a wall.” The wall was named Officer McMurray. “When he pulled me over and told me to step out of the car, I finally understood where the line was. I’d been pulled over lots of times before, but somehow, this time, even before I got out of the car, I had a flash… Everything before that was wrong. I knew he was right to lock me up. I was too ashamed to call my parents to bail me out. I knew from then on where the edge of the cliff was.” She went on to describe her daily struggles with “the edge of the cliff,” but she felt sure, after her awareness of the difference between right and wrong, that she now knew better, and that “the people in the village below that cliff, my parents and all—they’re safe now. I’m not a disaster waiting to happen anymore. I’m not rolling down that cliff.” On the 15th anniversary of her sobriety, now an art therapist and mother of two, she honored Officer McMurray because, she said, he “showed me the line.” This story from the work of the Blakeneys (R.Blakeney, Blakeney, & Reich, 2003) illustrates how negative moral experience may lead to a posi-tive insight, to the will not to violate the trust of others, and the commitment to do the right thing. It tells us also how complex and painful the moral learning process is. It shows us that meaningful negative moral knowledge is constructed in situations in which doing the right thing is contrasted with doing the wrong thing, in which relationships and moral emotions of indignation are salient features, and in which we learn to accommodate to the limits of being clever and successful. We claim that moral learning without negative experience is not possible. In this chapter I develop this particular thesis and its implications for a comprehensive model of moral education. 129

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Our approach is based on the premise that negative information has a fundamental role in the construction of knowledge more generally. In effect, to know what is right, we must keep in our episodic memory both the negative knowledge and the underlying generated insight. But what is the epistemological basis of negative knowledge? “Do not cross this street when the light is red, because you could be hit by a car and killed,” says a mother to her 4-year-old daughter. She holds her daughter’s hand firmly, and the fear in her eyes expresses her seriousness. Such an act builds negative knowledge. Because the mother wants to protect her daughter, she believes that if the situation is serious and she is serious when she tells her how to behave, her daughter will be protected. To talk about negative knowledge means to express an epistemological necessity (Wittgenstein, 1990). To know what is, one must know what is not. To understand how something functions, one must know what this functioning inhibits. To know what to do, we must know what not to do. To know what strategy works, we must know which one does not work, and why. To understand the notion of a “just community” we must also know why something like a “zerotolerance” school can never be a just community school, and so on. Negative knowledge is a necessary counterpart to positive knowledge, a mirroring, ordering schema that frames any knowledge. Of course instead of using the term negative knowledge we could also talk about knowledge of the negative side of any given subject, topic, strategy, or process. However, this would only confuse the reader. We can more clearly describe the mentioned epistemological basis of understanding when we consider negative knowledge as a force shaping positive knowledge. The distinction between negative experience and negative knowledge is that the first describes the process of acquiring negative knowledge, the second is the result that—partly through metacognition—remains in long-term episodic moral memory.

NEGATIVE KNOWLEDGE AS KNOWLEDGE OF ERRORS Negative knowledge is functional in the sense that without it one cannot have a firm grasp of any subject. Negative knowledge, knowledge of what a thing is not, is inherent in understanding its parameters (i.e., what it is). Moreover, negative knowledge also protects, supports, or preshapes positive knowledge. The function of negative knowledge as a protective force can best be illustrated in a nonmoral setting. An example that I like to refer to is that of the airplane pilot (see Oser & Veugelers, 2003). A pilot knows many rules about how to fly correctly, because he or she must be able to make the airplane take off, fly, and land in complete safety. This system of rules that describes what the pilot must do is supplemented by a whole range of rules about what he or she must not do.

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However, these latter rules do not actually form part of the pilot’s competence; rather they are simply rules about what not to do. Negative knowledge arises through the mistakes the pilot makes in the simulator and the things he or she does that he or she should not do. The simulator reacts quickly, the plane goes into a spin, the pilot loses control, and the plane crashes. This experience prevents the pilot from doing things, or failing to do things, that he or she must not do, or must not fail to do. It is therefore a knowledge of errors that prevents the pilot from failing to do the right thing or from doing the wrong thing. This knowledge of errors is the pilot’s most important “knowledge.” It is episodic and unstructured, but enormously effective. The knowledge of errors prevents the pilot from doing things, or failing to do things, that lead to spinning out of control, losing height too quickly, or indeed, to crashing. Another function of negative knowledge is concerned with the process of limiting something. To say that something is steep we must know when the flat stops being flat and begins to ascend. This identifying marker is especially important for concepts and strategies. We must, for instance, know when a democracy can no longer be called a democracy because it becomes a dictatorship. We must know, for instance, that interactive mental strategies are not effective in a final exam because in an exam, individual competence—not interactive competence—is assessed. One criticism that might be raised is that the term knowledge is cold, external, objective, and trivial. However, from a constructivist point of view, the term knowledge refers to more than formally acquired information. In the cognitive psychological sense, what is meant by knowledge is a processed, declarative, or strategically empirical knowledge. It is knowledge that has become comprehension. Comprehension means that knowledge is use-oriented. Comprehension is also an ordering schema within an experienced context (Hörmann, 1982). Individual components are inserted into the ready-made overall structure. “Comprehension is therefore a one-way street which follows a natural gradient, from the individual to the all-embracing, from the specific to the general, from the dread of the new to the brilliance of order” (Hörmann, 1982, p. 22). Negative knowledge can be developed the same way, whether it is declarative, procedural, strategic, or conceptual. With respect to declarative negative knowledge, a person must experience cold to understand hot, that which is bad to understand good; and that which is immoral to understand what is moral. Declarative negative knowledge presupposes knowledge about the opposite state of any object. With respect to procedural knowledge, we must know what not to do. For instance, in working with a computerized production engine, we must know which buttons not to press to avoid stopping production. These examples illustrate the role of negative knowledge in understanding and competently communicating negative knowledge in a complex professional, social, and moral world. The best way—but not the only way—to construct negative knowledge is by making mistakes: by making one’s own mistakes or by being aware of the

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mistakes of others. Processing these mistakes builds a storehouse of protective knowledge. This is a complex and painful process that should never be romanticized. On the one hand humans want to avoid mistakes, but on the other hand mistakes can be fruitful for building episodic memories. In some cases, of course, mistakes can be irreversible, as in the case of Chernobyl. In such tragic cases we may also speak about advocacy-produced negative knowledge in which the next generation in an advocatory way may learn from the mistakes of prior generations without having to directly learn from personal situations. What is interesting, however, from an educational point of view, is the degree to which young people appear to need to experience the negative consequences of actions; to produce their own mistakes to construct a full understanding of what should be done. On the one hand mistakes can produce what we call positive anger. This kind of anger over mistakes is called positive because it leads to a developmental change in thinking and goal orientation. On the other hand, there is negative anger, which arises when one’s mistakes are cynically disparaged, when one is openly blamed, chastised, or disrespected for one’s mistakes. Such negative anger can turn into shame, guilt feelings, and sadness. It can completely block any learning, especially creativity and learning involving taking risks, and it can produce negative motivational consequences. As educators then, we can, especially in the realm of procedural knowledge, use simulations for learning through mistakes. On the other hand no one has the right to intentionally set other people up to “learn from their mistakes.” When we say that making mistakes is a good way to build up negative knowledge we are aware that schools and learning situations can stimulate the same effective learning process not by using mistakes but by contrasting opposing bits of knowledge. If the teacher asks students why the American Revolution was not a revolution, but rather a war for independence, students have to be aware of the characteristics of a true revolution and balance it against a kind of uprising that is not a true revolution. Similarly, if, during a drought, a teacher asks children what kind of people will be happy when it finally rains, the question of what kind of people will be unhappy when it rains would be precisely the contrary. If I am talking about life I also have in mind death and its implications. Schools in general inhibit learning from both the introduction of meaningful contrasts and the direct experience of negative actions. Teachers often try to prevent students from building up negative knowledge in that they try to prevent student mistakes, hide mistakes, scratch out mistakes, or overlook mistakes, and thus hinder the construction of negative knowledge; and hence all the narratives and episodes in popular culture related to it. Schools often prevent youngsters from critical questioning as the movie Dead Poets Society suggests. Instead of learning from contrary positions, mistakes, and contrasting procedures and thus developing a culture of mistakes, schools inhibit mistakes. In our recent work,

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we have developed an instrument for measuring the culture of mistakes in schools, classes, and learning situations (Oser & Spychiger, 2004). What we have found is that schools fail to achieve what we would consider to be a critical pedagogical goal, namely learning from what is wrong to understand the right. Our work has been done in Europe, but we doubt that the situation is much different in schools in North America.

THE MORAL CONCEPT OF NEGATIVITY How do these ideas apply to the construction of morality? The saying that children who never ever lie, deceive, misbehave, and so on, could not become moral persons has been attributed to Janusz Korczak, the great Polish pedagogue and physician (Oser & Veugelers, 2003). This saying can be interpreted as meaning that the experience of injustice enables it to be prevented, the experience of wickedness leads to an emotional consciousness of such behavior, and the experience of inadequacies makes it possible for them to be overcome. From a psychological point of view, it is necessary to be able to hold up both the downside of a possible moral solution and the upside, the positive and the negative, and to do this not merely as the awareness of a possibility but as the crystallized experience of this possibility (in such cases the warning deriving from tradition, literature, and stories can possess a status similar to the genuine episodic experience; see later). Let us suppose that a person knows and has command of a set of moral rules that state what is to be done and what is not to be done, including information about that which is obligatory and that which is recommended. This set of rules is only that, a set of rules. It does not show the person what noncompliance means for him or her and for others. As a result, the person requires quasimodels of “terror” (i.e., models that allow him or her to experience the effects of positive and negative actions, both within the deliberative process and as an outcome). It is not a consequentialist form of ethics that is expressed here, but an ethics that for purposes of justification considers the possibility of the misery created by failure. In other words, it is important that a person knows what he or she has to do (positively and negatively) and what noncompliance means in the extreme case. The rule “Thou shall not kill,” to be understood, requires that there is knowledge of the kind of suffering, fears, and flagrant injustice that murder and manslaughter involve. Being aware of the situation in which the rule is broken, the negative knowledge, is what makes the rule valid in the first place because it fills an empty abstract rule with rich, real, concrete content that can be connected with one’s real life. This is what we describe as negative moral knowledge. Why do children love books like Shock-Headed Peter, Pinocchio, and Where the Wild Things Are, which are scandalous from a pedagogical viewpoint? Presumably because negative moral knowledge is clearly and

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unambiguously depicted as such. The rule is always shown in its opposite form, in its violation. Every child therefore learns instinctively that the world operates more smoothly when rules are obeyed, but what is actually exciting exists in the incredibly painful consequences of not obeying the rules. Negative moral knowledge is not, as the negative theology of Maimonides calculated, that man can only say what God is not. It is rather the other side of a necessary or nonnecessary obligation, a phenomenon that has until now scarcely been investigated. It is the secret content with which people give substance to their standards from the reverse side. This was precisely what Kohlberg (1981, 1984) did not demand from his experimental participants, or he only obtained it indirectly through his interviews. It is true that he asked why Heinz should or should not commit burglary to get the medicine that would save his wife’s life. However, persons from a specific stage (e.g., stage 4) could have quite varied existential background knowledge of what will cause the extent and intensity of the always anticipated harm caused by noncompliance with any of these rules. Noncompliance with a rule, however, is a necessary form for moral epistemology. Morality grows through the experience of moral negativity and through the emotions related to it. People who experience or suffer the utter horror of violating a positive or negative rule are prevented from violating this rule. People who are aware of the horror of the consequences of the absence of a rule forbidding a particular action fight for creating such a law. (The military saw no difficulty with laying land and sea mines only as long as the civilian population knew nothing about it and was not directly affected. People who have seen and experienced the misery of children who have stepped on such mines have the protective knowledge that gives them the impetus to call for these mines to be banned.) Negative knowledge thus “protects” compliance with rules, even under conditions of conflict, stress, and situational pressure, whereas the absence of such knowledge weakens rules, rendering them meaningless in terms of understanding the rules’ functions. In this case the center does not hold; public and private injustice increases; and the forces of overweening ambition, lust for power and possessions, and so on, are let loose. The individual acquires a set of negative knowledge components through his or her experiences and these support his or her positive knowledge. Individuality is characterized by episodic moral knowledge that has been gained through making mistakes or having negative experiences. This becomes the prima facie justification for compliance with a moral rule, namely the misery and sense of revulsion that are imagined when one considers its violation. Episodic negative knowledge is the hidden content of our moral reactions. For Freud, for whom the superego is the wall that rejects or restrains certain desires, this negative knowledge is not subject to nearly enough control by the ego, the person. It is quasi-uncontrollable by the person himself or herself because it is processed externally through the fear of loss of love. Freud did not see that empathy is just

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as effective as compulsion, and that the experience of the negative motivates one’s own long-term processing, which makes sense out of rules and guarantees that compliance with these rules as a form of human reconstruction validates their necessity.

THE NONAUTOMATIC MECHANISM THAT PROTECTS US FROM OUR OWN WEAKNESSES The mechanism of protective moral knowledge shall now be more precisely elaborated against the following background. In one of our interviews, a 58year-old woman recounted how—after being newly married—she would often shoplift small things whenever she had to buy something from a large store. She did this just for fun, as she had when she was a teenager. She never was caught. One day she arbitrarily began telling this to her husband, a successful and famous attorney. On her hearing her story, he became pale and furious and expressed his shame and indignation in no uncertain terms. There were terrible scenes in which he told her that she had jeopardized his whole career, and the like. She recounted that after this incident (especially at work) she was repeatedly tempted, in the gray areas of social amorality, to steal little things, evade paying taxes, or claim expenses that had never been incurred. In the face of temptation, she would recollect the episode with her husband, and restrain herself. Thus, in her case, negative knowledge, knowledge of the consequence of rule violation, strengthened rule observance. This example may be dismissed as simplistic, but at the beginning of all morality we find indignation and the related feeling of being ashamed of oneself (Tugendhat, 1984). Generally, the residual traces left behind by such indignation have not been sufficiently stressed. They are the moral scars a person carries with him or her, and they ache in similar situations and so recall key moral experiences relating to this indignation. As we have seen in the case of posttraumatic stress, humans reconstruct in a similar situation the past event, and they act according to this reflection. There is no automaticity in this in a behaviorist sense. Negative expert ences do not in themselves prevent one from doing things again. However, the feelings accompanying the meanings attached to an event do become integrated within the moral schemes that are constructed, and may be invoked whenever the person is in a similar situation (Arsenio & Lover, 1995), serving as a motive force within the person’s moral judgment. In fact, it can be maintained that this recollection, even if vague and often almost forgotten, is a form of protection against similar acts in new situations. Without this indignation (either self-generated or generated by the environment), moral rules are cold, sterile, abstract, and susceptible to unnecessary exceptions dictated by selfishness. The more the experienced indignation is linked to the generated rule, the more obligatory the rule becomes, not in the sense of blind

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obedience but in the sense of an individual not acting indifferently, but reflecting on and attributing responsibility. Knowledge gained from negative experience encourages reliable and appropriate compliance with a rule. Negative knowledge is like a wall that, in even extreme situations and conditions of stress, restrains a person from doing wrong and hurting others. This inner moral attitude, originating from the scars of one’s own failures, or the failures of others, is the protection that is referred to here. It is the soil from which civil rights activism grew (R.F.Blakeney, 2002). It is not conceivable without experience. In his book The Ethical Didactic of Kant, Koch (2003) stated that the categorical imperative as a principle for finding a rule for the morally permitted is based on the concept of universality. If we can state that universality is a given, this leads to the morally permitted; if universality is not given, it leads to the morally prohibited. But what, asked Koch, leads to the morally necessary? He gave three answers: First, that a categorical imperative is a positive principle, which implies that it is the criteria for the examination of an action maxim; second that this categorical imperative is a negative criterion, which helps us to find out what not to do; third, that only through the roundabout way of the morally impermissible do we understand what is morally necessary. This is the way to understand why positive duties are only possible through the negative, through what is immoral and not desired. To avoid vices that lead to serious misbehavior, one should avoid considering the good in egocentric terms at all. The good in this sense cannot only be good because it meets the test of usefulness. It must also be submitted to the universality rule. The duties of moral self-survival are also negative. No virtues are recommended but vices are prohibited.

WHAT IS EDUCATIONAL MORAL PROGRESS CONCERNING THE ASPECT OF NEGATIVE MORALITY? If we know what negative morality means it is of crucial importance to ask what implications this has for moral education. Education is related to progress. To ask about moral progress in sociological terms leads to one central answer, namely that during the last centuries man became more morally rational. Rorty (2003), on the basis of the philosophical reflection of Baier (1995), denied this hypothesis and instead believed that moral progress develops through moral sentiments and moral storytelling in which feelings and sentiments for the weak and strangers are articulated. The first author does not see that the sentiments for the weak and the stranger are based on negativity. The second author does not see it systematically. It is more than a suffering. It is a regret that this person suffers. With this regret we develop feelings of empathy and morality, which

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lead to rules and moral regulations. If we apply this idea to the educational and developmental field in general, it could mean that progress in moral education develops through the growth of negative moral feelings, through storytelling with negative moral content followed by a positive outcome and possibilities to put oneself in the shoes of others in the sense that they feel miserable and negatively treated by life. In simple terms, reading Les Misérables from Victor Hugo or Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart would be more effective in facilitating perspective taking than rationally solving positive moral problems (cf. Selman, 2003). Moral progress thus is not primarily more moral knowledge or not simply a higher moral stage or not only a better judgment-action relatedness. It is also a better protection from one’s own moral mistakes through the concept of negative morality and its situatedness. Situatedness means that with the created moral norm, the situation in which the negative experience occurred is also remembered and produces a kind of moral warning, an immune system against immoral behavior. It is also crucially important to understand that we cannot stimulate pupils to achieve a higher level of moral judgment (one form of rational progress) simply by imparting knowledge, or by using teaching methods based on practical experience and problem solving, or by treating personal experiences in a creative and artistic manner, or by the teaching of strategies designed to improve memory, and so forth. All these methods are important for general teaching, but they will not lead to any accommodative transformation of cognitive moral patterns, nor is it possible to succeed in achieving a higher level in a short space of time. It is imperative, moreover, to be aware that transformations such as these can be brought about only against the background of a development theory and a transformational grammar appropriate to it, involving a constant process of critical arguments and nega-tive events. Some knowledge about the transformation of cognitive moral judgment is therefore required if others are to be successfully stimulated to achieve a higher level, and it must also be recognized that human beings are perennially disinclined to take steps to transform and improve their patterns of behavior (to make progress). Negative knowledge of equal complexity but different in nature is required for the task of creating shared norms, or when a competency to act is aimed for. I return to these points later. The foregoing also suggests that moral education in situated contexts is a complex and multidirectional phenomenon, that it can provoke a network of suggestions for action, that norms play a role, that justifications are required, and that negative moral acts from others are a basic raw material from which to construct moral meaning. If however, as is often pronounced, a single method is promoted as the only correct one, or if teachers subscribe to a single method (e.g., the character education approach, or development-oriented education), this will inevitably lead to false causal assumptions concerning the antecedents and consequences of that moral education in question. When Leming (1997) asserted

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that the character education movement is eclectic “both in terms of its psychological premises and its pedagogical practices” (p. 47), we may counter by stating that whatever system of education has precedence, practice is always eclectic, and that until now there has been too little research devoted to untangling the separate strands of simultaneous effects with respect to negativity. One result of the debate in recent years is that there is no longer just one type of moral education and a pedagogic method appropriate to it; we are attempting rather to reach different goals at the same time in a consciously differentiated manner, and to stimulate a corresponding learning activity each with different concepts of negativity. How can we create a synthesis of all these forces? How can we postulate a moral education, which will enable and produce the complex formation of moral sense in a young person? What are the minimal preconditions, and what is the indispensable core of moral education?

THE TRIFORIAL SYSTEM OF MORAL EDUCATION: A THEORY The approach we propose involves three core elements, all of which work at the same time; it is designated as triforial because the term suggests that the core elements have something in common, namely their foundation, their support, and their actualization of a moral structure. Based on three arched windows, a triforium permits different things to occur at the same time each to be supported in a different way. A triforium is a kind of gallery in the interior of Romanesque and especially Gothic churches consisting usually of triple-arched windows running under the roof space of the transept and nave. Despite all the problems of borrowing analogies, the concept of a triforial structure can readily be transferred to the realm of moral education, where the tripartite arched positions signify the three core elements, the structure they support, and the general formation to which the three core elements lead (cf. Klafki, 1991). Why do we speak of this threefold or triforial moral education and its accompanying threefold pedagogic practice (in which the figure of three is used to describe the mere minimum of the many links that are always present in educational modes of action)? I should like to formulate the problem in a negative triforial manner as well: 1. Moral education is more than training to weigh and balance adversarial positions. Although such experiences in critical reasoning stimulate moral judgment, they do nothing more. The moral judgment is merely a precondition for moral action. 2. On the other hand, one can also say that education designed to foster character and inculcate values simply represents an attempt to influence pupils through persuasion, and as such it often remains blind and

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unreflective. This can readily be demonstrated through examples of secondary values such as cleanliness, punctuality, discipline, precision, and so forth (cf. Höffe, 1986). These values must always be linked back to higher values (justice, solicitousness, objective neutrality), otherwise they threaten to become fragile, dangerous or even fundamentalist. An extreme example would be the carrying out of genocide in the name of exactness or precision. 3. If we simply stimulate moral action, however, then we must always deal with specific situations and use our intuition. However, intuitions are frequently unfair, lacking in regard for others and crude. Thus, sentiments and storytelling alone would be one-sided. In short, each one of these approaches falls short, either because we lack empathy, fall victim to a false belief, or fall victim to blind action. We are courting the danger of being quasi-moral, of thinking and interpreting in a quasimoral manner. A deeper analysis shows that each of the theories represented through these three components sets its sights on one extreme, and thus the central goals of a comprehensive moral education cannot be achieved. We are therefore in need of an overall theory that will enable us to combine different goals in the proper manner. Different methodical or rather pedagogic modes of acting must be integrated within this theory in different ways. Instead of pursuing just one of the goals previously indicated, therefore, we need a triforial theory of moral education, which will permit at least three central technological frameworks of conditions and their negative counterparts. Figure 7.1 shows these three fields that intersect with each other.

FIG. 7.1. A triforial theory of moral education: Descriptive part. The judgment circle contains moral analyses, moral justifications, and a progressive stage-by-stage anchoring of moral thinking. At a given stage we can

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understand and elaborate the respective cognitive and knowledge based arguments. We can also easily understand what it is that a person at a given stage denies and how that person sees negative moral conflicts. The value core (second circle) contains value knowledge, the intuitive knowledge deriving from moral customs, and the respective specific moral culture. This is where moral convictions and moral group identity (unconsciously internalized, or consciously derived from direct participation) come into play. Here is also the place of negative moral knowledge in general. A person has an episodic memory concerning what happens with respect to moral failure and moral transgressions. The action circle (3) contains forms of prosocial, moral, and participative behavior. Here a person knows what does not function in a certain way and how judgment and action can contradict each other. Qualities required here include moral courage, moral sentiments, and also moral performance and the ability to deal in moral terms with concepts of law and justice. In Fig. 7.1 I placed particular emphasis on the intersections of the core elements. Intersection 1 relates to content interpreted in a stage-specific manner (e.g., children’s narratives are interpreted from the viewpoint of their belonging to a certain stage). Kohlberg’s Stage 2 stresses the morality of exchange (you will get something only when you do something for another person, but also negatively, if you do not give you will not receive). Conversely, value judgments and culture-bound moral contents enter into the judgment and modify it. Intersection 2 emphasizes the necessity of combining judgment with action. This is the point at which the hiatus between judgment and action becomes apparent. A whole range of models illustrating this connection is available (cf. Moralisches Urteil und Handeln; Garz, Oser, & Althof, 1999); more and more variables are being investigated to establish their effect on prompting action, including, for example, moral stage, strength of will, extent of obligations, negative experiences, and so on. Moral culture (Intersection 3) possibly constitutes an important variable affecting moral action, although there is admittedly a relative lack of research in this area. The subjective acceptance of value responsibility is determined through internal and external pressure against or for a certain moral or prosocial course of action. In the absence of a counterpressure, which resists the direct will, we cannot speak of the acceptance of value responsibility (cf. Oser, 1999). The overlapping process represents the moral self of an individual (cf. Damon & Hart, 1982). The moral self combines judgment, knowledge (consent), and action in a balanced manner. It always contains its counterpart negative side. It is now possible to describe the triforial theory from the viewpoint of various aspects of educational theory, such as (a) variations in goals, (b) diverse sources of moral thought, (c) a model of moral transformation (moral pedagogy), (d) negative moral thought or behavior, (e) the measuring of morality, and so on. However, comprehensive coverage of these issues is beyond the scope of this chapter.

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HISTORICAL ASPECTS OF THE STRUCTURAL AND DEVELOPMENTAL APPROACH TO MORAL EDUCATION A core feature of our triforial theory is its connection to the work of Kohlberg and subsequent cognitive-developmental theory. Before discussing work in which we have applied our theory, I need to take a moment to discuss how our approach builds from and differs from the classical Kohlberg model. When Kohlberg (1958) introduced his theory he was responding to views of moral growth based on nonrational processes of internalization and socialization. In place of these earlier accounts, Kohlberg built from Piaget (1932) in an attempt to develop a detailed genetic epistemological structure of morality. His work resulted in the now widely known six-stage approach to moral development, a theory that he himself improved at least three times. Kohlberg’s approach, together with its assumed ideals of optimal conditions for potential decision making and moral action, has a well-known attraction. His theory, however, misses the negative counterpart to the forms of justification described by each of his stages, and fails to describe the importance of negative experience in understanding morality as a human necessity. This is especially relevant for efforts to put into play Kohlberg’s catch-phrase “development as the aim of education,” Kohlberg’s promotion of this interpretation of progressive education has played a considerable role both in educational research and in the specifics of practical intervention (Kohlberg, 1981,1984). In this view, education means stimulation of development toward the next higher moral stage. There have been numerous criticisms aimed at Kohlberg’s theory. These include the criticisms that the theory overemphasizes on justice (see Gilligan, 1982), that the lower stages are less egocentric than Kohlberg had assumed (Keller, 1996), and that Kohlberg’s stage descriptions include as a single structure aspects of social cognition that comprise distinct domains of social convention, morality, and personal discretion (Nucci, 1981, 1996, 2001; Shweder, Mahapatra, & Millet; 1987; Turiel, 1983, 1998). Finally, the nature of the higher stages as described by Kohlberg has been called into question (Reichenbach, 1998; for earlier criticism, e.g., on measurement problems, see Oser, 1981). The most important shortcomings of the Kohlberg theory, however, from our point of view are concerns regarding (a) the lack of an integration between abstract structures of judgment and the specifics of content and knowledge to be applied in specific contexts, and (b) the lack of an adequate account of the relations between judgment and action, and (c) the lack of integration between moral structures and specific moral experiences and emotions. These are all central concerns of our triforial model. In Kohlberg’s defense, I must add the following points. 1. Much of this critical debate ignores the fact that Kohlberg conceived of his developmental theory as a theory of competence. In describing

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competence theories, we are not so much concerned with asking how people form judgments in concrete situations but rather with the question of how the highest and qualitatively best kind of judgment a person can make is produced in a variety of general, mostly decontextualized, situations. That is why our concept of negative moral knowledge is complementary to Kohlberg’s work; it is content based and not competence oriented. 2. It is also frequently overlooked that Kohlberg constantly stressed the limited scope of his scheme. Kohlberg’s theory of moral development is powerful because its area of applicability is clearly circumscribed and its scope is both highly controllable and comprehensible. The structures are abstract and therefore highly transferable creations. They indicate the extent and nature of the reversible thinking that people can produce as justifications for their deeds and intentions. The higher the stage, the closer the judgment is to universal principles, the more adequate it is in terms of philosophical theories, and the more the individuals are able to think reversibly in the spirit of the Golden Rule. 3. Finally, a fact that is often ignored is that Kohlberg himself raised numerous questions, such as these: What is the relationship between intelligence and morals? How does judgment relate to action? What role is played by emotional elements under real conditions? Is principled thinking also possible at the lower stages? Is moral judgment better described in categories of a soft or hard stage concept (cf. Kohlberg, 1981, 1984)? Even if Kohlberg was unable to provide answers to many of these questions (cf Kohlberg, 1995), he was striving for a solution. However, he, like many researchers rooted in the concept of enlightenment, was reluctant to engage the question of negativity. He never spoke about the canon of moral scars someone must have to become a moral person, and he apparently never saw the reconstruction of the bad as a necessary detour to the morally right. A criticism of Kohlberg and related cognitive-developmental approaches is not the central purpose of this chapter In fact, it is possible to offer a description of possible connections between the negative and each of Kohlberg’s stages. For instance, in Stage 1 negativity is related to the experience of not having obeyed or of being punished. In Stage 2 negativity is related to the fact that we do not receive according to what we have given. At Stage 3 someone is not in accord with the group, and the group excludes him or her arbitrarily; the boy is a bad boy and the girl is not nice and is not accepted. In Stage 4 the negativity lies in the experience of being an outlaw: having knowledge concerning the rights and duties of everyone in a society, or to experience that societal forces misuse power or are biased and unjust. At Stage 5 negativity is the experience of not having the courage to use one’s knowledge to craft a just solution. A question one might ask in relation to Kohlberg’s descriptions is how much or what sort of negative experience a child must have at each developmental

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period to construct a particular level of moral development? What sorts of negative experience or encounters with contradiction are needed to move someone to the next stage of development? It is conflict and contradiction, and not merely confirmatory experience that Piaget postulated as conducive to growth.

THE JUST COMMUNITY SCHOOL AND NEGATIVITY We can get some idea of how negative experience works to promote moral growth by looking at events that we observed in efforts to implement the Just Community School. Kohlberg’s (1986) original idea in establishing what has become known as the Just Community School was that schools could be selfregulating communities in which the very regulations themselves would provide opportunities for moral learning and the construction of a value system. This is an approach to moral education, a concept that relies on the participation of everyone. In Just Community meetings (a central feature of Just Community Schools) all students and teachers of the school come together to discuss controversial issues and to decide what to do (Higgins, 1989; Oser & Althof, 2001; Power, 1979). In one such meeting, I observed the creation of a foundation to be sponsored by all members of the school community for students who became victims of thefts. The most important part of this event was the reconstruction before the entire community of the theft situations that prompted the subsequent collective moral response. In this case, one student related that he had returned from a break and discovered that his expensive pen was gone. Another student told how he had gone to the bathroom and had his jacket disappear. As students reconstructed their cases, they told of their shock, outrage, and indignation; expressed their disappointments; and proposed suggestions about what to do and how to punish the violators if someone were to be caught. They also expressed sympathy for others who had been harmed. In my view, this process was a rebirth of the evil these students had experienced in that it released all of the contained moral emotions attached to experience of the violation. The negative was brought to light, step by step, and everyone agreed that one could only overcome and transform moral indignation if we first reconstruct it. In this case, we see an instance where evil became the means for the good. The negative urged the movement toward the positive. Moral mistakes thus served at least three functions: (a) It demonstrated the font of moral rules; (b) it helped confront the necessity to treat moral issues; and (c) it developed— especially because of emotional and empathic reactions that were reconstructed and remembered—a protective fence against recidivism. This whole process illustrated in this example can be produced only through a comprehensive transformation of the school as a place for discovering the bad to overcome it. The core of this process is the forum, in which contentious

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questions are clarified and proposals for change put to vote, and where every act of voting always implies an important setting of standards within the system of a particular school. The structural features of the Just Community allow for the incorporation of the “bad” as an aspect of the formation of social and moral sensitivity in the individual and the group in a fashion that is considerably superior to most school-based methods of generating moral growth. This is because the context of the Just Community supports the following. 1. First, there exists the ongoing possibility of putting oneself into the shoes of the suffering other through the actual encounter of this suffering other within a real-life situation. This in turn permits students to take on different roles to engage in the defense of others, and to prepare for taking positions against the negative. These processes of perspective taking made salient through the engagement of an actual other raise the proba-bility that students will generate the social flexibility required to arrive at an impartial moral decision. 2. A second related aspect of the Just Community is that it puts into practice a fundamental reconceptualization of the stated purpose of developmentally based moral education, which is to increase students’ levels of moral reasoning. From the perspective being advanced in this chapter, the development of morality is more than the simple attainment of a higher stage of moral reasoning through discourse generated through discussion of dilemmas relating to particular fields of study and school events in general. Such discourse does raise “moral stage” as assessed by traditional methods. However, the moral knowledge that results from discussions about abstract or hypothetical situations, even when situated within curricular content such as discourse about historical events does not provide for the deeper confrontation with the negative requisite for genuine moral knowledge. For genuine moral growth to occur, it is necessary to deal with actual moral mistakes, with the morally negative. Only in overcoming the morally negative does it truly make sense to be moral. For, in the experiential context of the negative, we may speak of the stimulation of two modalities of cognitive imbalance. The first is the widely recognized and researched cognitive disequilibrium that comes from the serious attempt to reconcile contradictory information. The second is the moral indignation that one feels because of directly or indirectly experienced immorality. This latter source of cognitive imbalance is generally missing from typical classroom moral discourse. 3. A third element of the Just Community process is that student identification through participation in wrongdoing is also transformed. Through the engagement that transpires, students who are perpetrators of moral transgressions are drawn into a recognition of the “bad” that entails emotional involvement. This emotional component reduces the prospect that the moral discourse will remain at a surface level. Accepted self-

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shame helps to overcome immoral thinking and acting. It works especially to combat moral weakness with respect to the courage to act according to one’s own conviction. Only those who jointly decide to refute negative behavior can truly feel responsible for what is to be done. Unlike the unilateral process of punishment and recantation that is the hallmark of traditional character education, the Just Community discourse engages perpetrators, victims, and other members of the community in a mutual process of responsibility, restitution, and reconciliation. 4. The fourth element of the Just Community consists in overcoming the judgment-action dissociation (cf. Garz et al., 1999). In essence, the actions to be decided on are ones that directly impact the actors in the discourse. As such, the justifications and judgments are ones that cannot be abstractly parsed from the effects of the actions. There is little room then, for moral sophistry or moral cowardice. To be a moral coward means to know what to do and not do it. The nuance here is the recognition that the limits of one’s own freedom fall squarely at the curb, the crossing of which violates others in some way. The others in this case are not abstract figures in the school curriculum, but one’s peers and fellow community members. 5. The fifth component relates to the reality of life itself. Through the process of codetermination and of fighting against the negative, school life becomes an authentic entity. There are always two ways of seeing a moral problem, one in which someone does not see that there is something wrong, and one in which we see it. In the first case we have to make a person feel the indignation of others. In the second case we have to help translate the “good” decision into action.

THE ROUND TABLE MODEL AND NEGATIVE MORALITY The Realistic Discourse I have abstracted these aspects of the Just Community process into what I refer to as realistic discourse. I constructed this approach (Oser, 1999) in the spirit of the situated learning movement. My goal was to build from that aspect of the Just Community that employs lived student conflicts to construct a process of social decision making that would stem from the everyday occurrences of school life. This more generalized approach does not require the commitment of an entire school. It can hold for any social subset, such as a classroom, in which the decisions of members are binding on the participants in the discourse. The process employs selection of an actual conflict as the focus of discourse. The teacher serves to ensure that everyone involved in the discourse has the opportunity to speak and to participate in the process of problem solving and

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decision-making. This presupposes an attitude on the part of the teacher that pupils are reasonable and capable of responsibility, even though they may appear to be lazy, troubled, and stupid, or in other words to appear superficially to be irresponsible. The fourth and final component of this realistic discourse is that the solution must be put into practice. Thus, all parties to the discourse must agree to the solution and that from the moment the approved solution is considered the best, will be held to over the next days and months, even though better solutions might be theoretically possible. It is a model within which the primary aim is not to attain the next higher stage, but instead it attaches central importance to finding a practical solution to a moral violation acceptable to everyone. It is a dynamic model geared horizontally toward action (and not oriented vertically toward a more sophisticated structure of judgment). The basic principle of this model of moral education is that the frictions (negative events) of everyday life in a school provide moral learning opportunities. Research on Just Community moral discussion has tended to emphasize an examination of the discussion process and its outcome in terms of individual stage development and the moral atmosphere of the community. Research has paid little attention to the necessary reconstruction of the moral conflict in its negative aspects, or to the negative as a condition for creating the good. Our position is that negative morality and its emotional expression are a critical source for generation of the good. One exception to the lack of attention to the role of the negative is the work of the Blakeneys (C.Blakeney & Blakeney, 1991) in their approach to working with “troubled youth.” In their program, youngsters, counselors, and teachers used weekly roundtables (called discipline committees) to discuss the ways any participant felt wronged by another, or when a participant (student or staff) was “pulled up” for violating a community rule. Here the focus was on reconstructing the underlying moral meaning of the misbehavior in question to both achieve a just resolution (e.g., restitution for stealing a sweater) and turn the negative behavior into a positive reformation. An illustrative example of how they employ realistic discourse within their discipline committees took place within the context of an incident of racial disrespect. In this case, one student had referred to an African American peer as a “brown cow.” “How is calling somebody a brown cow different from just calling somebody a cow?” the teacher asked, when the students were reconstructing the incident. After the hurt party expressed indignation and others shared related experiences when they had felt “dissed,” one student argued that both racial disrespect and individual disrespect hurt the same and should thus have the same punishment. A second student replied that racial disrespect was worse because the person is not only “dissing” you, but “they’re dissing your whole race.” A third student said that when the disrespect is individual it is directed just at you, personally, so it hurts more. After a bit more exploration, the teacher asked how to resolve the problem. The teacher probed for student views of what could right the wrong

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and restore what had been lost to the community—and to the relationship between the individual students who had been involved in the incident. The point here is that the negative was not taken as an abstract case. Instead, students and staff were all able to experience and share times when they themselves were “dissed” (disrespected), how it felt, and what they would have wanted in terms of a just resolution. They could also talk about the impact of racial disrespect, and its contrary—respect, tolerance, fairness, and caring—in a multicultural community. Realistic Discourse in Contexts of Unequal Power In the cases we have discussed thus far, we have focused on situations in which power relationships within the community are made relatively equal. Knowledge of morally negative experiences, in interactive relationships that are not symmetrical, educational, or productive, represents a special problem in antagonistic situations. Children who are inwardly bruised and remain silent and people who suffer injustice and say nothing too often become the subject of decisions by superiors that are made without the suffering being properly treated and worked through. On the other hand, superiors (e.g., teachers or section heads) sometimes confront situations that they themselves cannot resolve without producing further harm or more examples of injustice. An example is the case of an employee who has been granted flexible working hours but who shamelessly exploits the arrangement. We have questioned professional people about such situations, and have ascertained that in cases such as these three moral dimensions are in opposition to each other, namely justice, respect for others’ feelings, and truthfulness. A pupil who is making every effort but whose attainments are still poor can be treated kindly; but perhaps an unjust decision is made, or we are less than truthful and give the pupil the idea that his or her work is good, and vice versa. Antagonistic situations arise primarily in professions with a high degree of independence. A lawyer must decide whether he or she will act for someone about whom he or she has negative information. A dentist is in a position to reveal the shoddy work done by a colleague, but perhaps refrains from doing so. We raised a number of such situations, standardized them, and presented them to professionals. In the process, we discovered a range of decision types, namely (a) evasion, which refused to take issue with the situation at all; (b) delegation, which involved passing the problem up the line to higher authority; (c) unilateral snap decisions, which could bring about greater harm or injustice for people; and (d) incomplete and complete realistic discourse. As discussed in greater detail next, the realistic discourses resulted in the most effective and ethically defensible resolutions. These discourses amounted to roundtable procedures in which negative knowledge is revealed and thus properly experienced. Roundtable discussions in professional contexts are not ideal

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places of negotiation, any more than they are in children’s classrooms. In both settings they are partly irrational, emotionfraught processes seeking the right way to respond to the situation. The realistic roundtable, however, requires that certain important preconditions be observed. First, there is the element of gentle constraint that must be exercised to bring all those affected, even against their will, to the table; a constraint-free search for a solution is rarely possible. Further, there must be some guarantee that controversy will prevail; this is brought about by the chairperson himself or herself playing an active part in making sure that the injured parties and shy participants have their say. Third, it must be accepted and assumed that everyone is capable of establishing a balance among justice, regard for others’ feelings, and truthfulness, and that at any time the equilibrium among the three can be coordinated. Finally, the solution that emerges from the discussion is to be regarded as the best solution at the time, even though other possibilities, such as those deriving, for example, from philosophical ethics, could be found. Investigations show (cf. Oser, 1998; Oser & Althof, 1992) that persons who cultivate realistic discourse procedures are estimated to be more just, more attuned to others, more successful professionally, and more committed than persons who do not practice such procedures. They are perceived to be persons commanding the respect of others and able to create a good social atmosphere, commitment, didactic abilities, justice, truthfulness, and a feeling of well-being. In connection with negative morality, however, there is a further important matter. The roundtable is the place where negative moral knowledge is communicated. Suddenly a person can notice that his or her remark has deeply hurt or insulted another person. The roundtable thus does not merely produce a rationalizing of rules and standards; it also succeeds in bringing negative moral knowledge itself to light. Although the relationship of realistic discourse to Habermas’s ethics of discourse (e.g., 1991) or the work of Appel (e.g., 1988) has not been fully explored, some differences have already been mapped out. The primary aim of realistic discourse is not to rationalize standards but to find solutions through negativity. The constraint-free agreement does not exist here. Establishing a balance demands antagonistic situations. Reason and postconventional morality cannot be assumed. As I have shown, realistic discourses take place with children, for example, who are capable only of direct reciprocity in justifying their moral positions—a level of moral development considerably below that of the assumptions generally maintained for moral competence in a Habermas (1991) ethical discourse. Identical presuppositions cannot be assumed to be held by all participants, but rather the discussion leader of the roundtable will at an early stage introduce conditions for accepting responsibility and for presenting arguments and will precisely through doing so make possible their practice. In sum, realistic discourse offers a practical step toward bringing the process of moral education into contact with an individual’s

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lived experiences. A critical element of such discourse is that it make use of the morally negative as a starting point for constructing what is morally meaningful and positive.

FINAL THOUGHTS We hear much these days about moral decay and the problems of our youth. Many of the writers in this volume have addressed how such pronounce-ments may be either exaggerated, politically motivated, or reflect a lack of awareness of the degree to which youthful rebellion might signal moral shortcomings in the positions of adult society. In my view, an overlooked aspect of these issues is to understand the role of the morally negative in allowing for positive moral growth. It would come as no surprise to hear math educators speak of the importance of error in the development of mathematical competence. Why then should it come as a surprise that an essential component of moral growth is direct experience with moral error? In saying this, I am not dismissing the very real problem of youth who engage in criminal or self-destructive conduct. In such cases, we would need to explore what it is in the history of such youth that has resulted in their willingness to engage in such a morally negative way of being. (My colleague, Wolfgang Edelstein, has provided an analysis of such a youth crisis in his chapter in this volume.) My focus instead is on the role of the negative in allowing for the construction of morality among youth in general. We can see the beginning of an empirical approach to the role of negative moral experience for the construction of moral understanding in Turiel’s (1983) quasi-naturalistic work, Turiel assumed that insight into the wrongness of a moral violation is not provided through the emergence of logic or through socialization, but that it arises from the perception of the consequences of one’s own or other persons’ right or wrong actions (cf. Keller, 1996). “The experience of physical harm or harm to someone’s interests is, according to his view, directly apprehended by the child and is understood within a process of observation via the proxy of empathetic reconstruction” (Keller, 1996, p 74). This then, is how knowledge of how to act morally and do the right thing originates. It is derived from these experiences. It is not an act of pedagogical intervention or a socialized system of rules that creates this possibility, but negative knowledge (a term not used by Turiel), The knowledge is thus gained from experience as a process of abstraction that creates a moral perspective. A kind of empathetic reconstruction is at work generalizing judgments along the lines of “one shouldn’t do that…one must not do that… I wouldn’t do that.” It would be incorrect to conclude that these experiences of young children account for the entire phenomenon of moral cognition, moral sensitivity, and moral action. However, one can see in these early experiences a set of parallels to the range of phenomena that form the basis of our individual and collective

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encounters with moral outrage that philosophers have speculated as the basis for our universal efforts to generate shared moral positions. Here we begin to see not only an account of the origins of moral knowledge, but also of moral action (cf. Garz et al., 1999, Oser & Althof, 1992, 1993), Without the experience of suffering, suffering cannot be imagined. Without having the negative experience of victimization, as well as the consequences of being a victimizer, morality exists as an abstraction. Through develop-ment, as we coordinate our own suffering with that of others, we establish mutual constraints on our social conduct. This constraint is not that of prisoners constrained by fear, but of cooperative members of a mutual community of trust. The predictability of moral action is connected with the sense of trust, which people show to one another. Trust implies the assumption deriving from experience that the other person will behave in a rationally predictable and fair manner. The prediction of this trust, however, is not just a hypothetical option; in the daily course of events, for example, when two people pass each other in the street without doing anything to each other, causing any harm or performing an act of exploitation, we are witnessing security and control. This control stems from the rational rejection of such actions guaranteed through negative knowledge. As we look at the indiscretions of youth, a part of what we see is an effort to experiment anew with the limitations of negative morality. How far can one go in a negative direction before the consequences are beyond what is acceptable to the self and others? As we look at our efforts at education, we need to ask how we make use of the negative. If we simply endeavor to suppress, repress, or otherwise cover up the negative, then how can we hope to contribute to the construction of deep-seated moral convictions that can only arise from genuine encounters with the emotions and meanings that are requisite for the construction of morality? How do we go beyond the superficial analysis of moral issues raised in the curriculum to get at the real problems being addressed in the lives of our students? This is a large and difficult question, but one that education and developmental research needs to address.

REFERENCES Appel, K.O. (1988). Diskurs und Verantwortung. Das Problem des Übergangs zur postkonventionellen Moral [Discourse and Responsibility. The problem of transition to post conventional morality]. Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Baier, A. (1995). Moral prejudices. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Blakeney, C., & Blakeney, R. (1991). Understanding and reforming moral misbehavior among behaviorally disordered children. Journal of Behavioral Disorders, 16, 135– 143. Blakeney, R.F. (2002). How to know this is a good thing: A developmental analysis of inter-cultural, anti-racist education. Schweizerische Zeitschrift für Bildungswissenschaften, 24, 467–485.

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Blakeney, R., Blakeney, C., & Reich, K.H. (2003, July). Leaps of faith: The role of religious development in recovering integrity among Jewish alcoholics and drug addicts. Pa-per presented at the Annual Meeting of the Association for Moral Education, Krakow, Poland. Damon, W., & Hart, D. (1982). The development of self-understanding from infancy through Adolescence. Child Development, 53, 841–864. Garz, D., Oser, F.K., & Aithof, W. (1999). Zusammenhänge: Zur Verbindung von moralischem Urteil und Handeln. Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Gilligan, C. (1982). Gibt es eine weibliche Moral? Das Psychologic heute-Gespräch mit Carol Gilligan [Is there a female morality? The “Psychology today” discussion with Carol Gilligan]. Psychologic heute, 9(10), 21–27, 34. Habermas, J. (1991). Erlduterungen zur Diskursethik [Contributions to the ethics of discourse] . Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Higgins, A. (1989). Das Erziehungsprogramm der Gerechten Gemeinschaft: Die Entwicklung moralischer Sensibilität als Ausdruck von Gerechtigkeit und Fürsorge. In G.Lind & G.Pollitt-Gerlach (Eds.), Moral in ,,unmoralischer” Zeit. Zu einer partnerschaftlichen Ethik in Erziehung und Gesellschaft (pp. 101–127). Heidelberg, Germany: Asanger. Höffe, O. (1986). Autonomie und Verallgemeinerung als Moralprinzipien. Eine Auseinandersetzung mit Kohlberg, dem Utilitarismus und der Diskursethik [Autonomy and generalization as principles of morality, a dispute with Kohlberg, utilitarianism and discourse ethics]. In F.K.Oser, R.Fatke, & O.Höffe (Eds.), Transformation und Entwicklung: Grundlagen der Moralerziehung (pp. 56–88). Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Hö]rmann, H. (1982). Meinen und Verstehen: Grundzüge einer psychologischen Semantik. Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Keller, M. (1996). Moralische Sensibilität: Entwicklung in Freundschaft und Familie [Moral sensibility: Development in friendship and family]. Weinheim, Germany: Beltz. Klafki, W. (1991). Neue Studien zur Bildungstheorie und Didaktik [New studies towards the educational theory and didactics]. Weinheim, Germany: Beltz. Koch, L. (2003). Ethische Didaktik Kants [The ethical didactic of I. Kant]. Würzburg, Germany: Ergon Online Verlag. Kohlberg, L. (1958). The development of modes of thinking and choices in years 10 to 16. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Chicago. Kohlberg, L. (1981). Essays on moral development: Vol. 1. The philosophy of moral development. San Francisco: Harper & Row. Kohlberg, L. (1984). Essays on moral development: Vol. 2. The psychology of moral development: The nature and the validity of moral stages. San Francisco: Harper & Row. Kohlberg, L. (1986). Der “Just Community”—Ansatz der Moralerziehung in Theorie und Praxis [The “Just Community”-approach of moral education in theory and practice]. In F.K.Oser, R.Fatke, & O.Höffe (Eds.), Transformation und Entwicklung: Grundlagen der Moralerziehung (pp. 21–55). Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Kohlberg, L. (1995). Moralstufen und Moralerwerb: Der kognitiv-entwicklungstheoretische Ansatz [Moral levels and moral earnings: The cognitive-developmenttheoretical approach]. In L.Kohlberg (Ed.), Die Psychologic der Moralentwicklung (pp. 373–493). Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp.

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Leming, J.S. (1997). Research and practice in character education: A historical perspective. In A.Molnar (Ed.), The construction of children character (pp. 31–44). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Nucci, L. (1981). Conceptions of personal issues: A domain distinct from moral or societal concepts. Child Development, 52, 114–121. Nucci, L. (1996). Morality and the personal sphere of actions. In E.Reed, E.Turiel, & T. Brown (Eds.), Values and knowledge (pp. 41–60). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Nucci, L. (2001). Education in the moral domain. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Oser, F.K. (1981). Moralisches Urteil in Gruppen, soziales Handeln, Verteilungsgerechtigkeit: Stufen der interaktiven Entwicklung und ihre erzieherische Stimulation [Moral judgment in groups, social acting and distributive justice: Levels of interactive development and its educational stimulation]. Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Oser, F.K. (1998). Ethos—die Vermenschlichung des Erfolgs. Zur Psychologic der Berufs-moral von Lehrpersonen [Ethos—the humanization of success. Toward the psychology of the professional morality of teachers]. Opladen, Germany: Leske+Budrich. Oser, F.K. (1999), Die missachtete Freiheit moralischer Alternativen: Urteile über Handeln, Handeln ohne Urteile [The neglected freedom of moral alternatives: Judgments about action, action without judgment]. In D.Garz, F.Oser, & W.Althof (Eds.), Zusammenhänge: Zur Verbindung von moralischem Urteil und Handeln (pp. 168–219). Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Oser, F.K., & Althof, W. (1992). Moralische Selbstbestimmung: Modelle der Entwicklung und Erziehung im Wertebereich [Moral Self-determination. Educational and developmental models of values. A textbook]. Ein Lehrbuch. Stuttgart, Germany: Klett-Cotta. Oser, F.K., & Althof, W. (1993). Trust in advance: On the professional morality of teachers. Journal of Moral Education, 22, 253–275. Oser, F.K., & Althof, W. (2001). Die Gerechte Schulgemeinschaft: Lernen durch Gestaltung des Schullebens [The Just Community: Learning through shaping the school life]. In W. Edelstein, F.K.Oser, & P.Schuster (Eds.), Moralische Erziehung in der Schuk (pp. 233–268). Weinheim, Germany: Beltz. Oser, F.K., & Spychiger, M. (2004). Lernen ist schmerzhaft. Zur Theorie des Negativen Wissens und zur Praxis der Fehlerkultur [Learning is painful. Towards a theory of negative knowledge and the praxis of mistake culture]. Freiburg, Germany: Universität Freiburg, Departement Erziehungswissenschaften. Oser, F.K., & Veugelers, W. (2003). Teaching in moral and democratic education. Bern, Switzerland: Peter Lang. Piaget, J. (1932). The moral judgment of the child. New York: The Free Press. Power, C. (1979). The moral atmosphere of a Just Community high school: A four-year longitudinal study. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA. Reichenbach, R. (1998). Preis und Plausibilitat der Höherentwicklungsidee [Price and plausibility of the idea of going higher in development]. Zeitschrift für Pädagogik, 44, 205–221.

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Rorty, R. (2003). Wahrheit und Fortschritt [Truth and progress]. Frankfurt, Germany: Suhrkamp. Selman, R.L. (2003). The promotion of social awareness: Powerful lessons from the partnership of developmental theory and classroom practice. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Shweder, R.A., Mahapatra, M., & Miller, J.G. (1987). Culture and moral development. In J.Kagan & S.Lamb (Eds.), The emergence of morality in young children (pp. 1–83). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Tugendhat, E. (1984). Probleme der Ethik [Problems of ethics]. Stuttgart, Germany: Philipp Reclam. Turiel, W. (1983). The development of social knowledge: Morality and convention. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press. Turiel, E. (1998a). The development of morality. In W.Damon (Series Ed.) & N. Eisenberg (Vol. Ed.), Handbook of child psychology: Vol. 3. Social, emotional, and personality development (5th ed., pp. 863–932). New York: Academic Press. Wittgenstein, L. 1990. Tractatus logico-philosophicus. London: Routledge.

Part III Moral Education When Social Injustice and Youth Resistance Converge to Produce Negative Outcomes

8 The Rise of Right-Wing Extremist Youth Culture in Postunification Germany Wolfgang Edelstein Max Planck Institute for Human Development

In the long decade that has passed since the unification of the two Germanics, a new extremism has emerged in German youth, specifically in eastern Germany. The main components of this right-wing extremism are xenophobia and nationalism; anti-Semitism; and ideological commitment to authoritarianism, inequality, and racism. Xenophobia is the lead variable, which, according to surveys, affects at least one third of the young population and considerably more locally, especially in the lower social strata (Bromba & Edelstein, 2001). In the recent IE A Civics Study, German 15-year-olds held the most xenophobic attitudes among the 28 participating countries (Torney-Purta, Lehmann, Oswald, & Schutz, 2001). Anti-Semitism is on the rise, but perhaps rather less so than in other European countries, and perhaps less for the traditional reasons than as a consequence (at least partly) of the Israeli-Arab conflict and the Israeli military rollback in the Palestinian territories, which in many young people arouses outrage rather than sympathy. Every study shows that in eastern Germany the incidence of extremism as measured by various indicators is about twofold more frequent than in the west. More than 50% of all racist, xenophobic, and neo-Nazi incidents, and especially of all such violent incidents, have happened in the eastern provinces, with less than 20% of the German population living there (see Bromba & Edelstein, 2001; Sturzbecher, 2001). In this sense, East Germany appears more similar to Eastern Europe than to West Germany. In Eastern Europe (especially in Russia) a neoNazi youth movement is definitely a threat. In the following I do not pursue a discussion about the phenomenology and the quantitative relevance of right-wing extremism. That is a topic of its own, and I have written about it elsewhere (Bromba & Edelstein, 2001; Edelstein, 2002). I propose to accept it here as fact. I start with these remarks merely to situate the problem and to demonstrate its importance. Although this is and remains a German problem of great political and psychological relevance, one might look at it more as a general youth problem emerging in Germany under specific conditions in a specific form. In effect, I argue that what is taken to 157

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represent the local problem of neo-Nazi extremism may represent, in its own idiosyncratic way, a general condition of adolescence in the modern world. The treatment of the local problem thus is, in a way, vicarious, although the phenomenology, the forms of brutality and violence, the symbolic presentations of the self, the cultural manifestations, and the historical associations are, of course, specific and vary across cultures and territories. There are universal features that provide meaning to the local experience in a generation that is involved in social, economic, and sociocultural transition. Normatively, right-wing extremists are morally wayward in thinking and in action. The concept of moral deprivation or waywardness points to the psychosocial and moral implications of a syndrome that combines economic, familial, educational, and cultural factors in variable ways. The causal relationship of the elements remains moot. It is possible, however, to describe the anomic correlates of social dispossession, individualization, and the dissolution of institutional bonds. Adolescents may respond to these with either hedonism or rebellion, and often with moral indifference. Adolescents who wind up unsuccessful in jobs and who end failure prone in apprenticeships following unsuccessful school careers may respond to the humiliation involved with a violent ideological or socially rebellious reaction that protects the person’s selfesteem. In Germany, these responses have often been viciously extremist, xenophobic, racist, and anti-Semitic. This means a refusal to abide by the moral conventions that until very recently have been the more or less unanimously accepted basis of social action in the Federal Republic, where a historical process of social learning after World War II has brought about political consensus concerning universal human rights and the equality of all human races. It is the refusal to heed this covenant, generally accepted as politically correct since the downfall of the Hitler state in 1945, that turns the youthful rebels into racists and neo-Nazis. Needless to say, trying to comprehend the motives for this development does not imply acceptance of the rebels’ Nazi convictions or justify their stance. Compassion with the underdog or a position of solidarity with an emerging underclass does not justify their behaviors or their ideologies. (Similarly, understanding the Palestinian intifada does neither justify terroristic acts nor the anti-Semitism of Palestinian fighters.) However, we need to ask questions about the origins of these developments, and, while opposing the actors, we need to view them as victims of their economic, social, and psychological condition. Paraphrasing the title of one of Anna Seghers’s stories, the question is this: How does a man become a Nazi (Seghers, 1977)? Who becomes a Nazi? What kind of person is receptive to Nazi values? What are the conditions and contexts that turn people into Nazis? Finally, are there ways and means to counteract such developments? These concrete historical questions then must be translated into the corresponding general code to understand the general predicament of youth that is involved in the process.

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In her story, Seghers reconstructs the socialization of a boy named Fritz Müller in humiliated post-World War I Germany, where soldiers returned home unemployed and devastated to bring up their children in misery. These children of losers in their families, schools, and peer groups develop mechanisms of compensation, character traits, and motives of spite and revenge that take them, first, into the ranks of the storm trooper thugs, later into the SS, and finally, years later, during the war in Eastern Europe, to their well-known involvements in concentration camps, firing squads, and mass murder in Polish and Russian villages and ghettos. How do developmental prerequisites interact with the social opportunities for action in adolescence? This question was equally important in the aftermath of World War I as it is in the present globalization crisis. All individuals have potential for development, but psychosocial needs and social opportunities determine how individuals use their potential: whether for social adjustment, for a career as moral exemplar, as maladapted neurotics, or as outright monsters. Fritz Müller’s brothers joined the youth movement of the communist party, whereas Fritz himself joined the Nazis. Beyond the social structures that operate uncomprehended behind the individuals’ backs, differential opportunity structures decide their fortunes. Among the differential factors we note social class and family, schools and teachers, and the peer group, all providing differential reinforcement for needs and dispositions. Seghers, in her story, drew a picture of the school experience that affects Fritz Müller: Different teachers exert different influences, using contrasting modalities of shaping and modeling the characters of their dependent pupils. Note that the influence is not necessarily linear, nor does it always work in the direction we might expect: Thus there is a liberal and progressive teacher who overtaxes slow-learning Fritz with his good intentions, and the unintended consequence is to move him closer to his destiny. There is a Nazi teacher who recognizes that Fritz has restricted potential, but instrumentalizing it promotes his successful monster’s career. With remarkable empathy Seghers reconstructed the psychology, first of the young, then of the adolescent schoolboy; his psychology could have opened a pathway to a conventional life, but it also permits him to open the gate to a different type of career, a different, evil kind of normalcy. The author described the collective impoverishment in which Fritz’s family has its place. She highlighted the solidarity of the deprived, where Fritz and his likes could earn recognition. Caught in the dynamic of the process, he transcended the boundaries to violence and, exerting power in the form of terror, he did earn praise—from the Nazis. Fritz found himself master of life and death, rather happenstance at first in the early years, but later, in Russia, in a systematic and goal-oriented fashion, no longer incidentally, but entirely intentional. Recognition and humiliation are central dimensions of adolescent experience, not least in Germany’s selective schools. Recognition and humiliation are woven into the fabric of pedagogy and instruction. They are aspects of teachers’

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and students’ roles, inevitable aspects of instruction, part of grades and feedback, tests, and exercises. What is the hidden agenda of school in development, and what is the voluntary influence exerted through grades and the evaluation culture of the school? School plays an essential role in the emergence of the extreme right in Germany, as we may recognize in individual stories such as Seghers’s account of Fritz Müller’s career from a deprived childhood to Nazi killer. More to the actual point, perhaps, are recent data of surveys about youth and violence in eastern Germany. These surveys demonstrate that considerable numbers of disaffected adolescents are utterly disappointed with school and see very little meaning in the subjects they are taught. They are lost and distraught in their schools, distrust their teachers, hold them accountable for their boredom, perceive them as basically disinterested in their lives and fortunes, and accuse them of a humiliating aloofness from their problems. Up to 40% of students in the so-called comprehensive schools and vocational secondary schools in the East German state of Brandenburg voice these complaints (Sturzbecher, 2001), It is this very group of the educationally underprivileged who are the breeding ground for right-wing extremism. Humiliation and deprivation of meaning foster adolescent rebellion. The school experience of young people is of interest, not so much because the responsibility for the emergence of extreme right-wing positions in youth should be attributed to the school, but because we should give the role of the school in the development of educational losers more thought, together with the role that schools might play in the prevention of such developments. How could the school shape experience to prevent losers from seeking an extremist compensation for their failure? How could a culture of the school provide its youthful members with a life world of experiences that grant immunity from neo-Nazi or other right-wing temptations and impul-sions to extremist action? What can schools do to effectively oppose the active components of the extremist syndrome: xenophobia, anti-Semitism, a racist affirmation of inequality, and expressive nationalism? What are the cognitive and affective strategies, the designs of instruction, the modalities of shaping the classroom and school climates that counteract the assimilation of adolescents into extremist subcultures? To come up with viable answers to these questions, we need to understand the real causes of right-wing extremism among young people, and going beyond the local context of school-based humiliation, we need to relate the causes of adolescent rebellion and waywardness to the moral ecology of adolescent experience, in which school plays an important part indeed.

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MACROLEVEL PROCESSES: ANOMIC DISORDER AND WEAK INSTITUTIONS At first I propose to outline the model guiding the following description. On the macro level, social structural changes produce contexts of psychological experience that interact with developmental vulnerabilities of adolescents in quest of identity. Given specific contingencies of the actual social context, vulnerable adolescents will tend to develop dispositions toward extremist orientations. Of the elements in the macro system that occupy the position of “independent factors” in the analysis, the two important ones are anomie and individualistic modernization, Anomie and individualistic modernization represent psychosocial consequences of “long processes” of social transformation. Mediating between the effects of long processes at the macro level and the micro level of individual development are meso or family processes that play a decisive role in the socialization of the children. Researchers have shown that in Germany dismissive attachment patterns in families with authoritarian rearing styles have played a distinctive role in the socialization of right-wing extremists (Hopf, Silzer, & Wernich, 1999). When these effects emerged in a cohort that for contingent reasons happened to harbor special vulnerabilities, dismissive attachment patterns added to the saliency of other developmental vulnerabilities. Cohort effects eventually trigger the emergence of new orientations in youth, and therefore call for a detailed analysis of their effects on individual and social development. Elder’s (1974) description of the Children of the Great Depression is one model of this type of analysis. In Germany an analogous study, Children of the Unification Process, would be needed. We can assume that functionally equivalent analogs of the German unification cohort exist in other regions of the world, from Palestine to Pakistan, that experience corresponding forms of trouble. Let us now turn to the systemic factors on the macro level. At the end of the 19th century, Durkheim introduced the notion of anomie to describe the sociomoral consequences of the breakdown of traditional society with its stable social formations, rules, and value systems (Durkheim, 1968). The breakdown marks the transition to modern society, characterized by the industrial division of labor. Whereas traditional society had been organized through intergenerationally stable rules of “mechanical solidarity” with littie room for individual variation and individual influence on the social order, and whereas traditional loyalties and duties persisted against the onslaught of individual needs, goals, and desires, the latter became the regulatory forces in the system of competitive market capitalism that succeeded the traditional world of personal bonds, inherited skills, and natural exchange. In the wake of that transition, individual performance and the rational individual’s judgment had to provide a substitute for tradition to guide action. Durkheim named organic solidarity the principled, discursive, and universalist cognitive morality that replaced tradition

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as the regulatory force guiding individual action, locating it in the individual’s educated and enlightened mind. Hence the importance of the school for moral education in Durkheim’s theory. The bleak side of the development to higher order organization and growing functional differentiation is fragmentation and disorganization. Social and cognitive conflicts tend to produce a more or less far-reaching sociomoral disorder, a loss of moral consistency that, in the community, leads to “anomic” withdrawal of the person, whose motivation increasingly depends on his or her own needs and desires. Durkheim identified anomie as a situation of socially generated individual risk, a deprivation of the socially sustained meaningfulness of life. Loss of orientation and meaning (a consequence of the corrosion of guiding traditions) may result in contradictory effects: One is retreat from action, depressive withdrawal, and even death, as Seligman (1975) described the consequence of anomic disorder, Durkheim, in his famous work about the subject, developed the notion of anomic suicide (Durkheim, 1968). At present we are learning that anomic despair can also take the form of rebellious action. Rejecting the accepted public moral coordinates and refusing social control, individuals may turn against prevailing norms and expectations in what is simultaneously a moral and antimoral rebellion. Recently, we have learned with shock that suicide can be an actively rebellious rather than a depressive response to social anomie. To bring the Durkheimian analysis of anomie to bear on the local and cohortspecific story about the extremist youth rebellion in eastern Germany, it must be applied to the sudden transition from the rigidly stable and centrally planned organization of the (East) German Democratic Republic to Western-style capitalism in the year 1989. Many young people saw themselves deprived of perspectives, orientations, and expectations—a predicament adding up to a cohort-specific experience of disenchantment. Some reacted with violence, most of all against foreigners, but also against handicapped or homeless persons. This reaction has been taken to represent protest against a “system” that was believed to redistribute their entitlements to “parasites.” Deep down they were presumably reacting to their own humiliation, and exacting a loser’s revenge on who they believed were undeserving winners. Turning their backs on the unsatisfactory present they look for the preservation of pride to an imaginary better past that, due to the observed failure of socialism, could only be a past preceding socialism. Adopting the insignia of racial superiority and using their bullying power, they redeemed themselves from the status of victims of an uncomprehended development. Vindicating empowerment, they turned to a past that seems to compensate for the shameful experience of dispossession. The development of anomie in the unification cohort is not the only process affecting the development of youth in the 1990s. It is accompanied and strengthened by the collateral effects of the long process of institutional transformation. Using a concept that has gained wide currency, Beck (1992)

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spoke about the emergence of a “risk society,” because the new type of social order is characterized by weak social organizations coinciding with forceful individualization. Heitmeyer et al. (1995) analyzed this process in terms of the diminishing power of institutions that channel and support the course of individual lives, first and foremost the family, whose ability to regulate individual behavior and individual goals and intentions in life is weakened by the continuous rise of individualism. Weak institutions mark a danger zone through which the rising generations must travel, confronting an increasing “risk” of loss of moral purpose, whereas the traditional agents of socialization lose power of direction and guidance. Thus traditions progressively lose their function as syntactic rules for the collective conduct of individual lives. Increasing competition between lifestyles, standards, and styles of conduct bring increasing pressure to bear on the integrity of the normative order, the disintegration of which appears to those who experience it as an achievement of liberation. Increasing competition has multiplied the pressure on the modernization losers. This process is salient in the economy and the labor market. Reciprocal bonds weaken under the strain of market-driven interests. The stress emanating from these tensions must be borne by the individuals alone, as the weak institutions are unable to provide the normative support that is needed psychologically. Economic modernization (the neoliberal dissolution of protective institutions) and intensified competition subject individuals to pressure from the forces of individualism. For victims and losers in this process, the nostalgia of strong institutions and the flight into the security and relief of groups represent strong temptations, often accompanied by the disaffection of individual moral standards. This process is sometimes critically identified as “the lure of fun society.” The alternative lure is the temp-tation of simplistic, sometimes violent worldviews that are corroborated in alliances of the likeminded. To sum up the macro part of the analysis, the detraditionalization of society generates anomie and its individual correlates—loss of orientation, hopelessness, and depression. The correlative processes of the modernization of institutions and the individualization of goals and motives impose the loss of institutional supports on the losers of the long processes of social and psychological transformation. In the West, these processes have typically been viewed as representing the social dynamic of industrial capitalism. There are, however, strong cues for similar processes of detraditionalization and individualization worldwide, which, in conjunction with demographic change, urbanization, migration, and neoliberal globalization, produce strong effects on the growing masses of young people affected, sometimes activated and sometimes demoralized, by the relative deprivation unfolding in the wake of these processes.

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MICROLEVEL PROCESSES: VICISSITUDES OF IDENTITY FORMATION AND SITUATIONAL CONTINGENCIES To this point we have argued about cohort-specific macro pressures on the postunification youth generation in eastern Germany. A more in-depth discussion of meso and micro factors that contribute to the predicament of the cohort in question is now needed. Earlier, I briefly pointed out the role of dismissive attachment patterns in the development of right-wing youth in authority-prone families in Germany (Hopf et al., 1999). I omit a more detailed analysis of the mesolevel phenomena here and proceed to the micro level of individual experience. To represent the micro level we turn to the role of identity development in potentially troubled adolescents. To Erikson (1959,1975) we owe the classical theory of identity formation in the context of historical change. For Erikson, ego identity is the feeling of trust in the reliable unity and continuity of the self, as mirrored by supportive others. This feeling provides strength and motivation for action in the present, and hope and perspective for action in the future. The support of families, schools, and peer groups is needed for this development. In the vulnerable phase of adolescence the failure of these support structures can threaten the process of identity formation and put the person at risk of identity diffusion, disintegration, or identification with the aggressor. Ideological movements and other collective forces are then called on to supply surrogate supports and lend strength to the weak and vacillating psychological structure from which identity emerges. Erikson (1975), in Life History and the Historical Moment, described vividly how the youth movement of the 1960s provided structure and meaning to the budding adolescent identities of the times. When the social situation—for whatever reason—fails to provide support for the positive collective process of identification with transindividual meanings and purposes, this leaves room for unresolved inner conflicts to surface, thwart the development of a stable identity, and generate some variety of identity confusion—guilt and weakness, inability to work and to concentrate, defeat and depression, or, alternatively, anger and negative reciprocity—a negative form of identity engaging the person in a destructive developmental career. (Recall Fritz Müller’s career as described by Seghers.) “Youth,” wrote Erikson (1968), “is sensitive to any suggestion that it may be hopelessly determined by what went before in life histories or in history” (p. 247). This is why humiliation witnessed or experienced, opportunities forgone, and perspectives blocked or reserved for others arouse anger and resentment among youth whose future is threatened or foreclosed. In Germany, their affect targets those who they believe have appropriated the benefits of welfare that should have been their due: foreigners, Jews, asylum seekers, the handicapped— all alleged parasites of a system that deprives them of their future. It is a

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provocative challenge in the prevailing system in Germany to identify with the Nazi—the objects of moral shame and collective guilt. The rebels refuse to share the politically correct consensus about Germany’s Nazi past. The posture of rebellion provides token control over their own lives, a show of meaning to compensate for the experience of powerlessness, humiliation, and deprivation (Frey & Rez, 2002; Skinner, 1996). To achieve a feeling of control over one’s life is indeed the developmental function of identity formation in adolescence— a process failed at the cost of confusion and depression, or even death. However, achieving control is also a process that may, at times, only succeed at the cost of one’s life. Situational Contingencies After long processes at the macro level, cohort effects and family influences at the intermediate level, and identity formation at the individual level situational contingencies determine the lifestyles, living conditions, consumption patterns, and social experience of the cohort. Such contingencies, in fact, require a systematic description, because the choice of rebellious and sometimes even violent lifestyles is supported by mechanisms and forms of life that need to be known and appraised. A thick description of the background of neo-Nazi group culture is obviously needed, but this would exceed the scope of this chapter. Minimally, however, the set of factors characterizing the life world of the extremist groups and contributing to their attitudes and motivations needs to be mentioned, because any program of prevention and moral education for these groups must respond to the experience they are exposed to. The following three situational factors appear influential: Group Life and Group Cohesion. The lives of right-wing extremists, skinheads, and their fellow travelers are organized in highly cohesive groups that cultivate a common lifestyle, mostly attached to local gathering places such as specific pubs. Right-wing music—a very important force—beer drinking, and expressive aggression are important beyond the occasional but forever latent violence directed at outsiders and the defined objects of their instinctive and ideological hostility. Life in groups (as well as the drinking) makes it more easy to defuse the moral responsibility of the individual and serves to enforce and maintain the ideological belief system of inequality, racism, and xenophobia, and a system of authoritarian group leadership. The addictive rock music of the right-wing scene, combining brutal text and beat, appears to serve an emotionally effective function of arousing the group to violent action—an effective strategy for moral desensibilization, School Experience. As mentioned before, a common element of rightwing adolescents’ careers is a negative and disappointing school experience. Rightwingers most often come from the lower tracks of the selective German school

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system, and thus frequently share an experience of humiliation and exclusion that is generated by the organizational features of school and instruction. School, curricula, and instruction, therefore, are often rejected as meaningless and frustrating, and provide a setting for continuous defeat and alienation. Employability is a significant issue that occupies an important segment of racist and xenophobic discourse (“They take away jobs from their rightful German owners”). The myth of unrightful appropriation of jobs by foreigners serves to quench the shame that employability forgone through insufficient school achievement elicits in educational losers. Media Experience. Experience of the modern media (TV and computer) is a global attribute of youth worldwide. The media carry images of Western lifestyles around the world, and with them a set of expectations and aspirations that for most of the world’s youth including even many in the West, are out of reach. This is bound to foster feelings of relative deprivation probably never experienced as strongly and extensively before. Simultaneously the media transport images of violence that never before have been instantaneously available on a worldwide scale, extended once again in the globalized form of violent computer games. The long-standing debates questioning media effects have finally given way to more realistic discussions concerning mechanisms that relate media consumption and aggression, and the sniper skills learned in computer games (Grossman & Degaetano, 1999). A German study has found that extremist adolescents view violent videos five times more frequently than other adolescents (Weiss, 2000). Cell phones and the Internet have produced a qualitative change in communication among groups locally as well as internationally, enabling groups to sustain ideological exchange, but also quick strategic planning and tactical deployment—the very same advantages that terrorist groups draw from the availability of the electronic media.

YOUTH AS A GLOBAL PLAYER AND A VICTIM OF RISK In an increasingly globalized world, no place can remain an island. Thus, to conclude this chapter, it seems in order to address, at least briefly, the youth scenery beyond the confines of local conditions. In a recent issue of the Journal of Research on Adolescence (Larson, Brown, & Mortimer, 2002) and in two book publications (Brown, Larson, & Saraswathi, 2002; Mortimer & Larson, 2002), Larson and his coauthors unfold the vision of youth as a new global actor. What the authors describe is the emergence of adolescence as a global phenomenon, a global problem, and, to some extent, a global player. The term player generally connotes conscious and intentional action. Thus, global players in business, the international corporations, clearly have definite goals and strategies that guide their actions on a worldwide scene. Although youth is not,

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in this sense, an intentional actor on the international scene, the emerging presence of youth on that scene is nevertheless a force that is on its way to changing the situation in the world. Thus, youth is a global player by dint of demography. However defined or demarcated, youth is going to be, for an unspecified time, the largest segment of the world’s population, perhaps one fourth now, and increasing. This group raises serious problems of schooling, health, and the availability of work. In many regions of the world, largely media-generated rising expectations stand in contrast to the scant opportunities available. Youth around the world are, of course, an extremely variegated group, living under extremely varied conditions, depending on very different cultural norms, and abiding by radically different values, traditions, and orientations. Thus it may appear almost impossible to impose any sort of unity on a scene of which the very essence seems to be its total lack of uniformity. However, besides the obvious differences, Larson and his coauthors demonstrated a set of similarities across the world. They highlighted the emergence of separate youth cultures across the globe, a widespread sexual revolution, expectations of schooling, and concomitantly the inaccessibility of education to the masses of the poor. “For the poor in developing nations,” Larson and Verna (2002) wrote, “the luxury (of the new adolescence) is out of reach” (p. 23). Due to the omnipresence of the visual media, however, they are aware of this luxury. They are exposed to a new type of deprivation, the ubiquitous awareness of a promise that is out of reach. Transported by the media, by the new global consciousness industry, the awareness of a lifestyle and simultaneously of its unfulfilled promise is carried into the remotest corners of the world. As the vast poor majority of the world’s youth are at increased risk—due to urbanization and crowding, the diminishing quality of life and health, and the increasingly unequal distribution of social, economic, and cultural opportunities—youth have become aware of the discrepancy between the standards of the wealthy, especially in the West, and their own disconnection from this privileged world. As Larson and Verna put it, “This disconnection combined with high demands can be expected to create stress, alienation and purposelessness for some youth…. It also can create conditions of generational revolt and civic unrest” (p. 24). This is almost a definition of relative deprivation on a worldwide scale, a condition added to the absolute economic deprivation prevailing in large parts of the world. Relative deprivation, however, is a conscious condition. It implies comparison of one’s own group’s condition with that of another that provides a standard for one’s entitlements and expectations. The fact of comparison has consequences for one’s conscious attitudes. It may lead to a state of frustration, disaffection, alienation, and purposelessness, to a condition of anomie. However, it can also arouse moral emotions, humiliation, anger, or outrage, and in extreme cases it can trigger violent and even suicidal action.

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The intention pursued with this chapter was the presentation and classification of a rather specific German phenomenon: the rise, among young people between, say, 14 and 24 years old, of a right-wing, extremist, xenophobic, and often racist youth movement in mostly eastern and less frequently western Germany. The topic was a mostly local challenge—how to understand the local conditions and find locally valid answers. Gradually, however, the rise of the local neo-Nazi youth movement came to fit within a wider and less local perspective, as part of a larger issue—the global issue of an emergent crisis of youth. Although the local issue of neo-Nazi youth continues to be interesting, relevant, and challenging politically, morally, and educationally, and although it remains necessary to deploy locally effective strategies to counter its onslaught, there appears something can be gained from placing it in the wider frame of the global process described by Larson and his coauthors. The gain from the wider perspective may be twofold: The analysis of the local, regional, or national phenomena will benefit from the broader ranging theories needed to account for the worldwide process, including a more critical attitude to the Western or American bias in research on adolescence. Conversely, it may be helpful to ask what light the local data and findings can shed on the larger processes. It is impossible, of course, to do empirical research directly on the world scene, but it is possible to enrich our percep-tions of the more local phenomena by using encompassing concepts derived from the global analysis of worldwide processes. The new global data present a challenge to our traditional cultural relativism. So the question is the following: Can anything be learned from the German case? Can the emergence of a neo-Nazi youth culture be understood as an instance of a larger process? The tension produced by this double approach may defy quick resolution, because it is complex and needs extensive treatment. Our aim here is to open a window on the huge problem of disempowerment of youth around the globe who have precious little to lose by rejecting enlightened standards and adopting violence instead.

STRATEGIES OF EDUCATIONAL PREVENTION: A FEW SUGGESTIONS To end a brief chapter in a small volume it would be presumptuous to present a program aspiring to worldwide prevention in response to a worldwide problem. Any response must, of course, address the local problem (or, more adequately perhaps, the local representation of the worldwide problem). Therefore, at the close of this chapter, I briefly list a few aspects of school quality that promise to counteract the consequences of anomic waywardness, moral disillusionment, and deprivation of meaning that vitiate the school experience of so many

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students, especially in the lower tracks of German secondary schools, but certainly also in other schools elsewhere. Many students of German secondary schools experience both the subject matter and the learning process as meaningless and useless in view of their present lives and their expectations for their futures. The most effective and sustainable strategy against the painful and consequence-ridden boredom that determines the experience of young people in many schools would be a switch from instruction for memorization to teaching for competence, from the hoarding of information to the acquisition of knowledge for action (Rychen & Salganik, 2001). There are good empirical reasons to believe that young people who are satisfied with school because it involves them in work they experience as meaningful will not be as easily prone to brainwashing by violent or fundamentalist groups or neo-Nazi ideologues. However, the seemingly simple switch to teaching for competence and understanding nevertheless entails a radical transformation of the school, instruction, teacher competence, and the entire spirit of educational praxis, and thus of the educational experience shaping the lives of the young. Learning for understanding and competence is best promoted in settings of situated learning (Palincsar, 1998) in projects that require knowledge for constructive action. Ever since Dewey (1938/1963) it has been known (if not always recognized) that experiential education in projects engages human agency in the process of its development, enhancing the construction of sociomoral and political competence through the planning and exercise of shared purpose, cooperative goal setting, functional division of labor, and mutual coordination of perspectives (Adalbjarnardóttir, 1999; Selman & Adalbjarnardottir, 2003). No method is better suited than sustained project learning to combine individual experience with mutual recognition among collaborating participants. No method is better organized to enlist individual motivation for common goals than learning in projects. No institution or arrangement is better able to prevent humiliation and to foster moral growth than the participatory setting of a co-constructive community of purpose. The greater the distance from the experience of democracy as the practice of participatory decision making in the institutional settings of everyday life such as the school, the greater is adolescent disaffection with politics, including the egalitarian regulation of relationships in groups, respect for others, and listening to other voices. From this disaffection derives the resistance to peaceful regulation of conflicts between contractual equals and the susceptibility to resort to violence to impose authority, hierarchy, inequality, and the self-centered satisfaction of needs. Hence there is the necessity to provide adolescents with the basic experience of participation and empowerment in an institution appropriated as one’s own, and thus, with the feeling of belonging, the experience of commitment to a moral order that transcends the self. Following Dewey (1964) and Kohlberg (1985; Power, 1985), learning democracy implies

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participating in an institutionally ordered life world where standards (and thus conflicts) are negotiated, responsibility is shared, and commitment is valued (Edelstein & Fauser, 2001). Not only is the school in Germany an authoritarian and hierarchical institution, but a deep divide exists between the school and the community. This makes it difficult to turn the universal experience of schooling into an experience of lived democracy available to everyone. If school experience were to function as a deterrent from racist aggression and contempt for those who are different, the participatory model of democratic self-government needs to be an integral part of that experience (Piaget, 1998). This would provide students with a model of responsible action in civil society instead of projecting an image of authoritarian domination. In the United States, service learning is a widespread opportunity structure for the exercise of civil responsibility linking school and community (Schine, 1997). Europeans would be well advised to adopt this model and to push it beyond the somewhat narrow and formal obligation it represents in many U.S. schools. When developed to its full potential, it obliges the young person to engage in the self-transforming practice of cooperation, discourse, and social development that continues the promise of Dewey’s democratic workplace with the moral atmosphere of Kohlberg’s just community.

REFERENCES Adalbjarnardóttir, S. (1999). Tracing the developmental processes of teachers and students: A sociomoral approach in school. Scandinavian Journal of Educational Research, 43, 57–79. Beck, U. (1992). Risk society. Towards a new modernity. London: Sage. Bromba, M., & Edelstein, W. (2001). Das anti-demokratische und rechtsextreme Potential unter Jugendlichen und jungen Erwachsenen in Deutschland [The antidemocratic and right-wing potential among youth and young adults in Germany]. Bonn, Germany: Ministry of Education and Research. Brown, B., Larson, R., & Saraswathi, T.S. (2002). The world’s youth: Adolescence in eight regions of the globe. New York: Cambridge University Press. Dewey, J. (1963). Experience and education. New York: Collier. (Original work published 1938) Dewey, J. (1964). Democracy and education: An introduction to the philosophy of education. New York: Macmillan. Durkheim, E. (1968). Suicide: A study in sociology. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Edelstein, W. (2002). Die ausbreitung einer rechten jugendkultur in Deutschland. Mit einigen vorschlägen zur prevention [The spread of right-wing youth culture in Germany. With some proposals for prevention]. In F.Büchel, J.Glück, U.Hoffrage, P. Stanat, & J.Wirth (Eds.), Fremdenfeindlichkeit und Rechtsextremismus. Dokumentation einer multidisziplindren Vortragsreihe [Xenophobia and right-wing

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extremism. A cross-disciplinary series of lectures] (pp. 11–62). Opladen, Germany: Leske+Budrich. Edelstein, W., & Fauser, P. (2001). Gutachten zum Programm, Demokratie lernen und leben” der Bund-Länder-Kommission für Bildungsplanung und Forschungsförderung [Learning and living democracy: A report for the Federal and States Commission on Educational Planning and Promotion of Research]. Bonn, Germany: Federal and States Commission on Educational Planning and Promotion of Research. Elder, G. (1974). Children of the great depression. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Erikson, E.H. (1959). Identity and the life cycle. New York: International Universities Press. Erikson, E.H. (1968). Identity, youth and crisis. New York: Norton. Erikson, E.H. (1975). Life history and the historical moment. New York: Norton. Frey, D., & Rez, H. (2002). Population and predators: Preconditions for the Holocaust from the control-theoretical perspective. In L.S.Newman & R.Erber (Eds.), Understanding genocide: The social psychology of the Holocaust (pp. 188–221). New York: Oxford University Press. Grossman, D., & Degaetano, G. (1999). Stop teaching our kids to kill: A call to action against TV, movie and video game violence. New York: Random House. Heitmeyer, W., Collmann, B., Conrads, J., Matuschek, I., Kraul, D., Kühnel, W., Möller, R., & Ulrich-Hermann, M. (1995). Gewalt: Schattenseiten der Individualisierung bei Jugendlichen aus unterschiedlichen Milieus [Violence: The bleak side of individualization among adolescents in different milieus]. Weinheim, Germany: Juventa. Hopf, C., Silzer, M., & Wernich, J.M. (1999). Ethnozentrismus und Sozialisation in der DDR—Überlegungen und Hypothesen zu den Bedingungen der Ausländerfeindlichkeit von Jugendlichen in den neuen Bundesländern [Ethnocentrism and socialization in the GDR—Reflections and hypotheses about the conditions of hostility to foreigners among youth in the new States of Germany]. In P.Kalb, K. Sitte, & C.Petry (Eds.), Rechtsextremistische Jugendliche—was tun? 5. Weinheimer Gespräch [Right-wing extremist youth—What can we do?] (pp. 80–120). Weinheim, Germany: Beltz-Verlag. Kohlberg, L. (1985). The just community approach to moral education in theory and practice. In M.W.Berkowitz & F.Oser (Eds.), Moral education: Theory and application (pp. 27–87). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Larson, R., Brown, B.B., & Mortimer, J. (Eds.). (2002). Adolescents’ preparation for the future: Perils and promise [Special issue]. Journal of Research on Adolescence, 12, 1– 166] Larson, R.W., & Verna, S. (2002). Globalization and the emergence of new adolescence. ISSBD Newsletter, 41, 23–25. Mortimer, J., & Larson, R. (Eds.). (2002). The changing adolescent experience: Societal trends and the transition to adulthood. New York: Cambridge University Press. Palincsar, A.S. (1998). Social constructivist perspectives on teaching and learning. Annual Review of Psychology, 49, 345–375. Piaget, J. (1998). De la pédagogie [About pedagogy]. Paris: Éditions Odile Jacob. Power, C. (1985). Democratic moral education in the large public high school. In M.W. Berkowitz & F.Oser (Eds.), Moral education: Theory and application (pp. 219–238). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

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Rychen, D.S., & Salganik, L.H. (Eds). (2001). Defining and selecting key competences. Seattle, WA: Hogrefe & Huber. Schine, J. (Ed.). (1997). Service learning: Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education. Chicago: National Society for the Study of Education. Seghers, A. (1977). Ein Mensch wird Nazi [A man becomes Nazi]. In Gesammelte Werke in Einzelausgaben, Band IX Erzählungen 1926–1944 (pp. 285–298). Berlin: Aufbau Verlag. Seligman, M.E.P. (1975). Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. San Francisco: Freeman. Selman, R.L., & Adalbjarnardóttir, S. (2003). Teachers’ reflections on promoting social competence. In R.L.Selman (Ed.), The promotion of social awareness: Powerful lessons from the partnership of developmental theory and classroom practice (pp. 128–146). New York: Russell Sage. Skinner, E.A. (1996). A guide to constructs of control. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 71, 549–570. Sturzbecher, D. (2001). Jugend in Ostdeutschland: Lebenssituation und edlinquenz [Youth in eastern Germany: Life conditions and delinquency]. Opladen, Germany: Leske + Budrich. Torney-Purta, J., Lehmann, R., Oswald, H., & Schulz, W. (2001). Citizenship and education in twenty-eight countries: Civic knowledge and engagement at age fourteen. Amsterdam: IEA. Weiss, R.H. (2000). Gewalt, Medien und Aggressivität bei Schülem [Violence, the media, and aggressiveness among pupils in secondary schools]. Göttingen: Hogrefe.

9 Race and Morality: Shaping the Myth William H.Watkins University of Illinois at Chicago

Morality continues to be an emotional hot-button issue in America’s culture wars. Many see our nation in decline as they rekindle images of Babylon, the Roman Empire, and other “decadent” societies. For the general public, morality is most often associated with the erosion of the core values that made us “great.” We have all heard that frugality, sobriety, piety, and chastity have given way to sloth, greed, and carnality. In the Western world this may be an eternal debate, as every generation demonstrates concern and fear that the young have abandoned the values of their forefathers. Beyond those issues, our highly stratified industrial society faces other moral concerns with profound social consequences. An ethnically and racially heterogeneous society demands accommodation among diverse people if it is to function. The plague of racism, ethnocentrism, and prejudice remain deeply embedded in U.S. history and culture. Serious and organized public discourse on racism is mostly lacking or absent. Powerful political and religious groups are demanding that schools increasingly participate in moral “uplift.” The concerns of the fundamentalists and “hard” right focus mostly on character. Although some character-building initiatives are being integrated into the curriculum, there is little meaningful excavation of problems on race and privilege. Sponsored school multiculturalism (Watkins, 1994) has done little to ameliorate hardened attitudes. Public education has substituted gimmicky schemes of diversity and empty tokenistic celebrations of third-world people for meaningful discussions of the deep roots and effects of racism and privilege in our society. The role of morality within racism is deeply rooted in America’s social and political history. Over time inferiority and immorality were joined. Although notions of genetic inferiority were easily undermined, the linkage of immorality to people of color has proven to be tenacious and adaptable. The nexus of racism and morality is not widely understood by society in general or (moral) educators in particular. This is an effort to explore how notions of morality were used in the social construction of racism, segregation, prejudice, and oppression in the United States from colonial times through the 19th and 20th centuries. Although not a 173

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thorough history, it is intended to examine some of the ideological and political foundations of morality and race that have become a part of this nation’s cultural legacy and social practice. The story is told by looking at four periods crucial to the shaping of ideology on morality and race. It is argued that views advanced during these periods became salient, and perhaps permanent fixtures in U.S. social life. Those four periods include the colonial, reconstruction, “scientific racist,” and the turn of the (20th) century, America’s enduring views on race emerged early in the colonial period and became institutionalized in the late 18th century. Disdaining the “usurpations” and oppressive policies of the king of Great Britain, the new “experimental” country with its mix of religious zealots, asylum seekers, indentured servants, slaves, entrepreneurs, and other assorted people developed its own national forms of privilege and oppression. Notions of morality advanced by Puritans, founding fathers, and other culture makers (Takaki, 1990) became building blocks of a new American ethos. Second, the reconstruction period (1865–1875) found America trying to overcome regionalism and rebuild in preparation for dramatic industrial expansion. Previously enslaved Africans were “fit” into the modern rapidly changing nation. The “Negro question,” situating the Negro, took on monumental importance for the nation’s long-term goals. Samuel Armstrong, founder of Hampton Institute, was a principle race ideologist of the time. His views on race and morality influenced the next 150 years. The scattered imperial racial attitudes of Europe were exported to the shores of the new world, but the expansion of slavery gave rise to new “justifications” and “explanations” of that “peculiar institution” (Stampp, 1956). Midway through the 18th century, scientific racism emerged. It was a period where biologists, physicians, scholars, politicians, and intellectuals attempted to systemize outlooks supporting the biological and genetic inferiority of people of color (Ehrlich & Feldman, 1977; Gould, 1981; Watkins, 2001). Notions of morality were an integral part of these emergent views. Finally, the turn of the 20th century witnessed a consolidation of racial attitudes that would characterize the country for the next century. The place of morality in racism was central to the time. Popular literature often illustrated the racial attitudes of the new American century.

MORALITY AND RACE IN EARLY AMERICA Puritan Ideology Conceptions of morality arose early in the history of colonial America. Whereas Calvinism often found resistance and opposition in certain parts of Western

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Europe, adherents found asylum in frontier New England. The Puritans called for moral regeneration in a world they found overrun with sin and corruption. Their definition of morality became an important building block in American culture. The Puritans rejected modern explanations of man, society, and duty. For them, such matters were defined and ordained in the scriptures. God’s will was clearly written for all to embrace. No aspect of human conduct could be left to chance as the scriptures were seen to address every aspect of life. Whereas the “word” was clear, the fate of individuals was not, for all would not live up to expectations. God predestined some men for salvation and others for damnation. Puritanism was ambiguous and filled with contradictory issues that had to be interpreted. How could helpless men, mired in sin, save themselves to secure God’s grace? Middlekauff (1971) untangled some tenets of Puritan theology as it was practiced in colonial New England. Predestination, he observed, was drawn from the relationship of God and man. God is omnipotent, whereas man is weak and dependent. Vaughan (1972) described fundamental covenants of God in puritan doctrine. The first covenant was that God created Adam and gave him free will. Adam’s fall spelled the end of man’s free will. God accommodated to a second covenant, the “covenant of grace,” wherein a sinner could by faith and deeds attain salvation. Bearing a sinful makeup, man must seek to be Christ-like. The entire self must be devoted to God’s cause and lived in conformity with strict injunctions. Whether man lived eternally or condemned to hell was not determined by himself but instead by God’s judgment of his deeds. Thus salvation was attainable but not easy. A strict code of moral conduct had to be followed to be considered for redemption. Puritan views on morality became an integral part of the call for independence and eventually the Revolutionary War. Luxury and extravagance were viewed as immoral and decadent. The King of England and by association his people were thus not only oppressive in their economic and political actions; they were also intemperate, immodest, licentious, and extravagant. Their immoral qualities more than justified breaking with them. Summarizing the views of colonial insurrectionists, cultural historian Takaki (1990) wrote: Americans thought they saw the symptoms of the British disease. Luxury and effeminacy seemed to be appearing everywhere, and “Venality, Servility, and Prostitution” seemed to be spreading like “Cancer.” Determined to protect and isolate Americans from the disease of British corruption, patriot leaders sought to enact sumptuary laws to check the growth of luxury and to prohibit plays and extravagant dress and diet. (p. 6)

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Takaki further examined early conceptions of morality. His discussion of “Republicanism” points to the self-governing man. The self-governing man had to be virtuous, industrious, sober, and thrifty. Giving in to one’s passions and lust was antithetical to the path of the republican man. Restraint was a personal proposition but had dire social consequences. Privilege and Subjugation: The Puritan Way Social stratification and differentiated privilege in biblical history and Puritan society required explanation. Puritan doctrine, relying on scripture, offered definitive views of master to servant and servant to master role expectations. Those views helped provide the foundation for ongoing cultural views of the treatment of subservient people. Masters were to care for those that served them. Vaughan (1971) explored Wadsworth’s (1712) The Well-Ordered Family to understand Puritan views on treating subservients. He summarized the central responsibilities a master owed his servant as required by scripture: 1. Masters should suitably provide for the bodily support and comfort of their servants. Servants are of their household, and if they provide not for such, they’re worse than infidels and have denied the faith. 1 Timothy 5:8… 2. Masters should keep their servants diligently employed. Indeed they should allow them sufficient time to eat, drink, sleep, and on proper occasions some short space for relaxation and diversion may doubtless be very advisable. 3. Masters should defend and protect their servants. Since their servants are under their care, and employed in their business, if any would wrong or injure them, they should endeavor to protect and defend them. 4. Masters should govern their servants well. They should charge them to obey God’s commands, to live soberly, righteously, and godly. They should use their authority in furthering their servants in a blameless behavior and in restraining them from sin. 5. Masters should teach and instruct their servants well. When masters take apprentices, to teach them some particular trade or occupation, they ought in duty and conscience to give them all the skill and insight they can in such their occupation, (pp. 186–187) Masters, overseers, rulers, and governors had a paternalistic duty to manage their charges. Cruelty was not encouraged but neither was equality. Role distinction and privilege were clearly acceptable. Although not specifically directed to named racial or ethnic groups, this model of conduct was easily applied where ethnic difference was evident.

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The responsibilities of servants toward masters were far more expansive as they guaranteed the power of privilege and subservience. Vaughn (1972) again summarized the Bible-based tenets for servant conduct: 1. Servants should fear their masters. Malachi 1:6 2. Servants should honor their masters. Timothy 6:1 3. Servants should obey their masters, diligent and faithful to their service and to their interest. Colossians 3:22 4. When a servant disobeys his master, he disobeys God. 5. Obey your master willingly, heartily, cheerfully, and with good will. Ephesians 6:6 6. Servants are wicked if they are lazy and idle while in their master’s service. Matthew 25:26 7. Servants should not cheat their masters financially nor steal from them. Titus 2:10 8. Servants should not run away as it was God who established their arrangement of servitude. 9. Servants should bear any chastisements directed toward them with patience. 1 Peter 2:19, 20 10. Servants should pray for God’s blessing upon their masters. Genesis 24:12 (pp. 188–192) Thus the Puritan defense of servitude provided a rationalization for the stratification that would soon evolve throughout the nation. If the Bible sanctioned servitude then it could be explained as man’s natural state. To enforce their views on servitude and all doctrine, the Puritans insisted on obedience. They believed God would judge an entire community that allowed an individual to transgress. They meant to maintain order at any cost. They understood that the imposition of law was accompanied by lawbreakers and the enforcement of doctrine would yield heretics. They developed a theory of exclusion giving authorities the right to punish and expel. The exclusionary concept became oppressive on non-Puritans, such as Anglicans, who resided within Puritan communities. Thus the notion of an “other” was established in their social order. The “other” could easily be viewed as deviant. The ideological foundations for discrimination were thus deep within Puritan dogma.

BUILDING A “UNITED” STATES: SITUATING THE BLACKS General Samuel C.Armstrong: Educator and Moral Theorist Samuel Chapman Armstrong (1839–1893), son of missionaries, officer in the Confederate Army, and educator was an important actor in the theorizing about

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morality and race. Founding Hampton Institute (in Virginia), a teacher training and vocational skills institute for African and Native Americans in 1868, Armstrong was enmeshed in the ideological shaping of attitudes about race, morality, politics, and culture in the post-Civil War period. For the next several years he utilized the pages of the widely circulated Southern Workman, a Hampton Institute paper, to present his views to the nation. As a nation builder, pragmatist, and patriot Armstrong rejected regionalism in favor of a broad political agenda. He wanted the country to move forward in unity and prosperity. Although committed to segregation and White supremacy, Armstrong broke with the primitive racialism of the slaveocracy. One example of his views surfaced in opposition to the popular racist notion that people of African descent were genetically moribund and would die off. The respected Boston Journal wrote: Nearly all the statistics relating to the subject, now accessible, are those coming from the larger Southern cities, and those would seem to leave no doubt that in such centers of population the mortality of the colored greatly exceeds that of the white race, (cited in Southern Workman, January, 1878, p. 4) Convinced that some people of color (e.g., certain Pacific islanders) were moribund, Armstrong put America on alert that the Black race was here to stay. He concluded that because they are here they should continue to be put to work. He wrote: There is no source whatever of a suitable supply in lieu of Negro labor. The large, low, swampy, malarial, but highly productive area of the South would become almost a desert without it. The successful Southern farmer knows that he has the best labor in the world. The Negro is important to the country’s prosperity. The decrease of the race would be a serious matter in many ways; it would destroy their morale. Young colored men, seeing no future, without hope, enthusiasm or esprit de corps, would gradually degenerate; there would be an appalling number of worthless blacks, mere driftwood, creatures who would care only for the passing day. (cited in Southern Workman, January, 1875, p. 4) Armstrong, the educational leader, recognized the need for a more realistic vision on the role and place for Blacks. Foreshadowing his views on race, he insisted Blacks could learn but were immoral. He recognized the need for new formulas that would build on accepted traditions. Embracing segregation and

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Negro inferiority, he understood if North and South were to be reconciled and the industrial economy made viable, a new politics had to be established. Armstrong was instrumental in shaping the politics of sharecropping and accomodationism that offered “semicitizenship” to Black Americans. Having lived and worked among the enslaved Africans in Virginia, Armstrong developed keen and uncommon insights into Black life. He marveled at the indefatigable quest of the slaves to educate themselves. Having seen the intellectual development of the slaves thwarted, he understood their potential and hence could not accept the popular biological or genetic explanations of inferiority. How then would he justify and defend segregation and Black subservience? The answer for him resided in long-standing moral arguments of the earlier colonial period. In his words: Lack of brains is not the greatest difficulty with tropical or oriental races. The Hindoos and the Zulus have poets and orators. A people in the ruts of barbarism, as were some of the ancients, may have a literature and science that will not in the least relax their bondage to vice. We cannot reason from intelligent Negroes necessarily, to a civilized progressive race. The question with them is not one of special proficiency, of success in one direction—the pursuit of knowledge—but of success all around. It is one of morals, industry, self-restraint, of power to organize society, to draw social lines between the decent and indecent, to form public sentiment that shall support pure morals and to show common sense in the relations of life. (Southern Workman, July, 1876, p. 50) He asserted that morals were the dividing characteristic between White and Black people: Moral force is the heavy artillery that Providence takes sides with. This and not his machinery and manufactures is the success of the Anglo Saxon. (Southern Workman, July, 1876, p. 50) On Morals, Politics, and Black Life As a patriot Armstrong committed his life first and foremost to the well-be ing of the nation. Settling citizenship, educational, and vocational issues was important in stabilizing the Black population. Armstrong was convinced that stabilizing the Black population was key to reconstruction and nation building.

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His examinations and explanations of the Negro focused on their sociocultural life. An important aspect of that development for Armstrong was morality. Throughout his writings he politicized morality as an important area of inquiry: In portions of the South there seem to be a relapse into barbarism. What else can be expected when the people are, in some places, in mental darkness and moral deadness, left to the guidance of demagogues, of preachers who are blind leaders of the blind, victims of whatever is low and base in themselves, unable to read, destitute of schools, cast by emancipation upon an impoverished and ill-feeling country, to pass through the fiery furnace of reconstruction, and to care for themselves after six generations of dependence. (Southern Workman, March, 1876, p. 18) Because of his sensitive position as “principal” of Hampton, elected officials, philanthropists, educators, clerics, and policymakers paid close attention to Armstrong. A major address delivered to the American Missionary Association at Syracuse, New York, on October 24, 1877, summed up his lifelong views. It was presented as a kind of broad, sweeping overview of the “Negro question.” This essay revealed deep-seated beliefs in the immorality of the Black race. It was the lack of morals constraining their racial and social progress. He believed the Negro could excel intellectually but he would continue to trip over his moral shortcomings. Thus it was the Negro, not the system, who was to blame for his own status. The Negro question of the day is the Negro himself… For generations to come it will be his deplorable condition, his deficiencies, and how to make the most of him… In his mental, moral, and material destitution, he has as much power as anybody to make the next President, or to decide on questions of tariff, currency, or war. Hence the Negro question is and will be, as it has been for the past forty years, a foremost one. The difficulty with him is, mainly a subjective not an objective one; himself, not his relations. His low ideas of life and duty, his weak conscience, his want of energy and thrift, his indolent, sensuous, tropical blood are, rather than mere ignorance, the important and unfortunate facts about him. (Southern Workman, December, 1877, p. 94) Commenting on what he perceived as glaring moral contradictions in Black life, he wrote:

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Pastors and deacons can sell whisky and lead loose lives without scandal; and ex-jailbird returns to his former social position; in politics and in society character goes for little or nothing. The power of Christian education and of right public sentiment has never reached the Negro race; it has been made impossible. (Southern Workman, December, 1877, p. 94) Further: His worst master is still over him—his passions. This he does not realize. He does not see “the point” of life clearly, he lacks foresight, judgment, and hard sense. His main trouble is not ignorance, but deficiency of character; his grievances occupy him more than his deepest needs. There is no lack of those who have mental capacity. The question with him is not one of brains, but of right instincts, of morals and of hard work. The differential of the races seem to be in moral strength. (Southern Workman, December, 1877, p. 94) Education and Morality Although Armstrong never believed Blacks could be intellectually equal to Anglo-Saxons, he did hold out hope that education, especially, his Hampton version of education, could provide both intellectual and moral uplift. Again drawing from the long-standing notions that virtue resides in hard work, Armstrong steadfastly advocated such. The following passage sums up his lifelong philosophy for Negro education: They need a system of training which aims at the formation of character, and of self-respect; these rest upon a foundation of morals and good habits. We can best aid them by Christian example and teaching…When his whole routine of life is controlled, the Negro pupil is like clay in the potter’s hands. Drill, training, toning up, is the important feature…it is, I believe, a well balanced, thorough-going system of culture, aiming directly at the mark, mingling mental with moral and physical training. The natural indolence of the Negro is as much in his way as his ignorance. In salvation by hard work is his hope. (Southern Workman, December, 1877, p. 94)

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Armstrong’s reconstructionist politics developed alongside the institutionalizing of biological “explanations” of racial inferiority. The movement of scientific racism gained adherents as it theorized a social role for Black people. SCIENTIFIC RACISM* The brutal exploitation of people of color provided context for “color coding” and classifying. Scientifically rendering dark people as inferior helped justify and rationalize colonial plunder. If proof could demonstrate that nature rendered Whites superior, a ready-made explanation for social hierarchy could be established. As world hegemony and power shifted from Europe across the Atlantic during the 19th century, America became the main locus of White supremacy. Its virulent brand of slavery outlasted most others. Long after most European countries abandoned slavery and the slave trade, the United States continued building both its economy and social order on the foundations of slave labor, exploited labor, and subservience. This economic base could not help but shape social ideology. By Reconstruction, a modern sociology of race was firmly embedded. Race influenced every aspect of America’s social order. Moreover, it made its presence felt in both culture making and among the culture makers (Takaki, 1990,1994). Defining Scientific Racism Scientism was an important theme in 18th-century intellectual life. Social scientists looked to quantification as they attempted to construct lawlike assumptions about societal and human development. Issues surrounding race began to receive great attention. Gould’s (1981) celebrated work The Mismeasure of Man offers a thorough discussion of the pre-and post-Darwinian movement to measure intelligence, classify races, and critically examine the genetic arguments that have influenced the social sciences for more than 200 years. Notions of difference in the social order have long been a part of the Western intellectual tradition. These views can be found as early as in the writings of ancient Greeks, including Aristotle (1970). Although space does not permit a complete historical examination, a look at important theories and theorists since the 18th century is useful to understand racial naturalism and the emergence of scientific racism. A glimpse of Arthur de Gobineau provides foundation for further understanding. * An earlier version of the section of Scientific Racism appears in Watkins (2001). See references.

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The Father of Scientific Racism The earliest significant intellectual racist was Arthur de Gobineau (1816–1882) of France, although far too little public knowledge circulates about this seminal racist historical figure. In the mid-1840s, Gobineau worked as a journalist and frequent contributor of political articles to a variety of journals. Soon he moved beyond French politics and wrote on issues of German regionalism and nationality. He favored the Prussian aristocracy in its expanding conflicts with the more lower classes. For the next several years, Gobineau wrote widely on a variety of topics, such as Christianity, the Renaissance, and philosophy. He struck up a relationship with Alexis de Tocqueville and both found their discussions intellectually rewarding. Support for aristocracy and nationalism were common themes in Gobineau’s writings. Soon he turned to an exploration of race theory. The source of virtue was of interest to Gobineau. Christian doctrine had always linked virtue with faith. Questioning this notion, Gobineau began to associate virtue with bloodlines (Biddiss, 1970). He looked at the Aryans, northern Europeans, as he asserted that blood purity was responsible for the heroism and intellect in the Aryans, He argued that racial integrity had to be maintained. Gobineau’s theoretical racism was articulated in his magnum opus entitled Essai sur I’lnegalite des Races Humaines (1854/1967). In it, he wrote that the racial question overshadowed all other issues in history. The inequality of races explained all destinies. Of most significance to Gobineau was social decay, or social decline. He rejected social decline as the product of excesses or misgovernment. Rather, he insisted that it was the product of miscegenation between the races. He argued that tribes were unable to remain pure and virile when the mixture of blood has been introduced. He wrote: The human race in all its branches has a secret repulsion from the crossing of blood, a repulsion which in many branches is invincible, and in others is only conquered to a slight extent. Even those who most completely shake off the yoke of this idea cannot get rid of the few last traces of it; yet such peoples are the only members of our species who can be civilised at all. Mankind lives in obedience to two laws, one of repulsion, the other of attraction; these act with different force on different peoples. The first is fully respected only by those races which can never raise themselves above the elementary completeness of the tribal life, while the power of the second, on the contrary, is the more absolute, as the racial units on which it is exercised are more capable of development, (cited in Biddiss, 1970, p. 116)

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He further argued that all civilizations derive from the White race, especially the superior Aryan stock. Mankind is thus divided into races of unequal worth. Superior races are in a fight to maintain their position. Racial relationships then become the driving force in history. He offered a hierarchy of race that influenced the next century and a half. At the top were the Caucasian, Semitic, or Japhetic peoples. The second or yellow group consisted of the Altaic, Mongol, Finnish, and Tartar peoples. The lowest group was composed of the Hamites or Blacks. He set out descriptions of each group. White people were characterized by “energetic intelligence,” great physical power, stability, inclinations to self-preservation, and a love of life and liberty. Their great weakness, according to Gobineau, was a susceptibility to crossbreeding. Asians were mediocre, lacked physical strength, and wished to live undisturbed. They could never create a viable civilization. Black people, the lowest of all, possessed energy and willpower but were unstable, unconcerned about the preservation of life, given to absolutes, and easily enslaved. Theoretically, Gobineau developed a notion of racial determinism. He insisted racial determinism was objective and could be reduced to scientific law. His racial view of history meant that race had driven all events back to the beginning of time. Race theory was more scientific than politics, morality, or state organization. In The Essai (1854/1967), Gobineau wrote about race and social order. He believed civilization defined itself in the process of war, conquest, and migration. It was, however, these interactions that allowed miscegenation to occur. If unchecked, miscegenation would undo civilization. For Gobineau, advanced status and civilization, such as possessed by Aryans, could only survive in a rigidly hierarchal order. An elite must totally dedicate itself to the maintenance of racial and social hierarchy, and use force and domination to maintain that social, racial, and economic organization. Society must not be disrupted by the popular classes or lower racial groups. Gobineau, the “racial prophet” (Biddiss, 1970), was among the first to articulate a political sociology of race and racism forecasting social decline. His ideology helped frame a generation of “scientism” on questions of race and social development.

18th-Century European and American Influences In 1735 Carolus Linnaeus, the acclaimed biological taxonomist, was among the first (Ehrlich & Feldman, 1977; Gould, 1981; Tucker, 1994) to classify human beings by race. He used both skin color and personal characteristics for his typology. His essay Systema Naturae divided people into White, Black, Red,

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and Yellow. He found Whites to be innovative and of keen mind, whereas Blacks were lazy and careless. The notion that races exhibited different mental and moral traits became a central part of a new discourse. German zoologist Ernst Haeckel, an early advocate of Darwinism, authored Anthropogenie (1874). In this book he situated Blacks on an evolutionary tree below gorillas and chimpanzees. He hypothesized that individuals, in the course of development, relive their evolutionary history; that is, ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. Building on this theme a century later, race theorists such as Brinton (1890) argued that some races retained infantile traits, rendering them inferior to others (Ehrlich & Feldman, 1977). In 1781, Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, physiologist and founder of modern anthropology, added aesthetic judgments to race. He introduced the term Caucasian as he considered White people as beautiful as the southern slopes of Mount Caucasus. For Blacks the pejorative term “oran-outangs” became popular as it placed them in the realm of chimpanzees and monkeys. President Thomas Jefferson used the term “oranootan” in his writings to describe Black men and even himself when he surrendered to his own passions (Takaki, 1990). Perhaps his dalliances with slaves, notably Sally Hemmings, were examples of such surrender. In 1799, British surgeon Charles White added a new dimension to the race dialogue. He asserted that Blacks were a separate species, intermediate between Whites and apes (Tucker, 1994). His book An Account of the Regular Gradation in Man and in Different Animals and Vegetables and From the Former to the Latter (White, 1799) argued that the feet, fingers, toes, legs, hair, cheekbones, skin, arm-length, skull size, size of sex organs, and body odor placed Blacks closer to the animal kingdom, most notably apes. Undergirding the writings of the natural scientists was the philosophical embrace of natural inequality, an Aristotelian idea that inequality was the foundation of the natural order (Tucker, 1994). Natural difference came to be viewed as hierarchical. Organisms and races could be rank-ordered. A central task of science came to be the ranking of living organisms. Colonialism, 18thcentury slavery, and the exploitation of fertile and mineral-rich foreign lands provided economic and political context for the new pseudoscience to take hold. These early scientific racists wrapped themselves in the robe of science. White repeatedly declared his lack of enmity toward the Black race, claiming he sought only insight into nature. Expanding the Discourse: Medicine and Science Scientific racism was reinforced and expanded when the established medical profession entered the field. Notions of anatomical, physiological, and psychological difference framed their inquiry.

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Benjamin Rush, founding father, signer of the Declaration of Independence, and medical doctor, contributed to views of race and racial inferiority in the early period of the nation. As Surgeon General in the Revolutionary Army and professor of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, Rush had a national podium. Concerned with the survival of the young republic, he spoke out on questions of politics, morality, education, and race. Rush examined the “savage” American Indian, claiming they were given to “uncleanness,” “nastiness,” “idleness,” intemperance, stupidity, and indecency. By the early 1770s he was writing about Black Americans, slavery, and race relations. Intellectually and politically opposed to slavery, he nevertheless advocated a segregated society (Takaki, 1990). He believed Blacks to be pathologically infected. Their coloration was disease driven. In a paper delivered to the American Philosophical Society entitled Observations Intended to Favor a Supposition That the Black Color of the Negroes is Derived From Leprosy (Rush, 1799), presented views on Black “pathology.” He argued that the big lip, flat nose, woolly hair, and Black skin were the characteristics of lepers. He also wrote about insensitive nerves, uncommon strength, and venereal desires. Blacks needed to be civilized and restored to morality and virtuosity through righteous living. As a political figure and doctor, Rush helped shape the culture of racism characterizing early America and evolving over the next two centuries. Much of his medical practice involved work with the mentally ill as he turned his attention to the “diseases of the mind.” His preoccupation with morality and virtue came to be joined with his exploration of mental disease. He began to insist that idleness, intemperance, masturbation, and sexual excess were associated with mental diseases (Takaki, 1990). His book Diseases of the Mind (Rush, 1812) presented “remedies” for these problems. In the mid-19th century, physicians such as van Evrie (1853) offered a “scientific” justification of slavery. He wrote that dark-skinned people were diseased and unnatural and that Blacks possessed impeded locomotion, weakened vocal organs, coarse hands, hypersensitive skin, narrow longitudinal heads, narrow foreheads, and underdeveloped brains and nervous systems. Van Evrie concluded that the aggregation of these traits translated to human inferiority. He asserted that even the animal kingdom recognized Negro inferiority and said that a hungry tiger was more likely to prey on Blacks than Whites. Also writing on this topic in the 1850s was Dr. Samuel Cartwright, who chaired a committee to inform the Medical Association of Louisiana about the Black race. His Report of the Diseases and Physical Peculiarities of the Negro Race (Cartwright, 1851) gained attention for its “scholarly” approach. It spoke of the insufficient supply of red blood, smaller brain, and excessive nervous matter found in the Negro. This combination of problems, wrote Cartwright, led to the “debasement of minds” in Blacks. The physical exercise provided by

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slavery would help increase lung and blood functions according to Cartwright. Slaves, he argued, were sometimes afflicted with “drapetomania,” a disease of the mind making them want to run away. The prescription for drapetomania he argued, was care and kindness, but the whip should not be spared should kindness fail. Dr. Edward Jarvis (1844), a specialist in mental disorders and President of the American Statistical Association, wrote that insanity for Blacks in the North was 10 times greater than for Blacks in the South. He concluded that slavery had a salutary effect on Blacks, sparing them the problems that free self-acting individuals faced. Thus the scientific racists established a body of views that served as a foundation to explain race for the next 150 years. Conservatives, reactionaries, and apartheidists would draw on these themes for their partisan outlooks.

ENTERING THE 20TH CENTURY: REFINING NOTIONS OF RACE AND MORALITY The United States underwent monumental social and political change as it entered the 20th century. Agriculture gave way to industrialization. Rural dwellers found their way to the crowded polyglot urban metropolis. Hostile and overt manifestations of regionalism yielded to nationalism although muted allegiances silently lived on. No longer isolated by geography and policy, America was manifesting imperial urges and actions in the Pacific, Caribbean, and Great Northwest. The rise to world power was accompanied by scientific and academic revolutions. The scientific revolution touched both business and government. In business and manufacturing Taylorist efficiency became the watchword. More productivity, less wasted motion, and attention to bottom-line profits drove the factory. In government the concept of planned rational change would be employed to manage the wildly gyrating experimental society with myriad ideological and ethnic and social class diversity. Great changes were also underway in the academic arena. The knowledge revolution was off and running. Advocates of various social science disciplines were calling for scientism and empiricism and equally important, autonomy. Thus sociology, anthropology, and political science would assert their individual integrity as disciplines. The umbrella concept of social science would lose steam. Many scholars within the new disciplines embraced scientific racism or eugenics. Notables included Edward Thorndike, Louis Terman, Robert Yerkes, Goddard, David Pearson, and Johann Frederich Blumenbach, Of special importance was Columbia professor Franklin H.Giddings. Giddings was the first full-time professor of sociology in the United States. He was a leader in the

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scientific (measurement) movement, a vigorous proponent of sociology as an independent discipline, and a theorist on race and morality. Giddings wanted assessments of the social order to move away from moral philosophy into empirical research. His lifelong research on social stratification argued that there was a hierarchy of mental, moral, and personality types. His hierarchy was associated with race and ethnicity. Classifying People and Groups For Giddings, quantification served the interests of classification. He believed natural evolution rendered distinct classes. Those classes were of people, behaviors, abilities, intelligence, and so on. Sociology must be able to understand the distinct nature of people. The most important distinctions for Giddings were physical, mental, and social. To understand these distinctions would allow us richer explanations of societal development. Classification became a focus of his work. Giddings believed people and races were divided physically into three vitality classes: high, medium, and low. The high group was described by bodily vigor, high mental power, a high birth rate, and a low death rate. The medium group experienced adequate bodily vigor, high mental power, a low birth rate, and an equally low death rate. The lowest groups experienced low bodily vigor, low mental power, extremely high birth rates, and high death rates. The higher groups described European people, whereas people of color, especially Blacks, belonged in the low vitality group. Giddings’s classification of mental or personality types also offered three categories. The high group was called the inventive. This was the genius group who made disproportionate contributions to the world in business, law, government, art, literature, music, and so on. He calculated that this group numbered approximately 250 out of every 1,000,000 people. The second personality or mental group was called imitative. This was the middle group, who was led by the high group. The lowest mental group for Giddings was the defective. They were the incompetents, cripples, insane, and imbecilic. This helpless group had few grounds to justify their existence. Regarding social class, Giddings constructed four groups: the social, nonsocial, pseudosocial, and antisocial. Similar to his other categorizations, this one was hierarchical and full of implicit ethnic references. Members of the highest group were identifiable by their consciousness. Those in this group were aware of their surroundings, their legacy, and were guided by higher calling. They were dedicated to the betterment of the social order. They were the leaders and pillars of the community. The second group, the nonsocial, represented for Giddings the majority of society. This was the inbetween group capable of moving in either direction. The pseudo-social group represented the third category. This group contained the “congenital and

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habitual paupers.” Giddings believed that this group pretended to be the victims of misfortune but were really shirkers and loafers who leeched from the public trough. The final antisocial grouping had no redeeming value. They existed totally without virtue. This was the class of criminals who carried out aggression against the other classes. This group grew with the expanding affluence of society, living off its surplus. These social classes, for Giddings, were difficult to escape. They were the products of lengthy evolutionary development; thus it was extremely difficult to abandon one’s class moorings. An individual’s social class was manifested by his or her “consciousness of kind” or his or her “social mind,” both of which were allegedly indicators of one’s level of civilization. Giddings’s writings on sociology were saturated with these classification schemes. He believed that differences were the essential dynamic within hip mankind. We could never understand society and its various ability and racial groups unless we could explain difference. Another influential racial sociologist, Edward Ross, contributed to the genetic and moral arguments of the early 20th century. His popular book The Old World in the New (Ross, 1914) attacked the character and physical features of Mediterranean Europeans. He wrote of “low foreheads,” “open mouths,” “weak chins,” “skew faces,” “knobby crania,” “servile,” “wife beaters,” “criminals,” “alcoholics,” and “given to crimes of sex and violence.” Like other academic racists he also embraced the argument that the darker people were morally inferior: That the Mediterranean peoples are morally below the races of northern Europe is as certain as any social fact. Even when they were dirty, ferocious barbarians, these blonds were truth-tellers. Be it pride or awkwardness or lack of imagination or fair-play sense, something has held them back from the nimble lying of the southern races. Immigration officials find that the different peoples are as day and night in point of veracity, and report vast trouble in extracting the truth from certain brunet nationalities, (p. 293) Among his objectives was to demonstrate significant differences between northern and southern Europeans. The underlying premise suggested that darker people were morally inferior. He wrote: In southern Europe, teamwork along all lines is limited by selfishness and bad faith… One of the maxims of Greek business life, translated into the American vernacular, is ‘Put out the other

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fellow’s eye.’ “These people seemed incapable of carrying on a large cooperative business with harmony and success.” Nothing less than venimous is the readiness of the southern Europeans to prey upon their fellow. Never were British or Scandinavian immigrants so bled by fellow-countrymen as are South Italian, Greek and Semitic immigrants… The Greek is full of tricks to skin the greenhorn… The Greek…exploits his help as mercilessly as ever he was exploited, (pp. 294–295) Ross was a staunch nationalist. For him, if America was to take its place as leader in commerce and military might, it would require sturdy men who could be relied on for the daunting task ahead. The darker peoples lacked both the sturdiness and ethical foundation necessary. He argued: The Northerners seem to surpass the southern Europeans in innate ethical endowment… The southern Europeans, on the other hand, are apt, in their terror, to forget discipline, duty, women, children, everything but the saving of their own lives. In shipwreck it is the exceptional Northerner who forgets his duty, and the exceptional Southerner who is bound by it. (p. 295) Ross concluded his book by insisting that Europe was keeping its solid citizens and allowing only the deficient to immigrate to America. He wrote: There is little sign of an intellectual element among the Magyars, Russians, South Slavs, Italians, Greeks or Portuguese… The fewer brains they have to contribute, the lower the place immigrants take among us, and the lower the place they take, the faster they multiply, (p. 299) His final insult was that the southern immigrants were as repulsive as the Negroes, in some cases more so: In their homes you find no sheets on the bed, no slips on the pillows, no cloth on the table, and no towels save old rags. Even in the mud-floor cabins of the poorest Negroes of the South you find sheets, pillow-slips, and towels, for by serving and associating with the whites, the blacks have gained standards, (p. 300) Grants’s (1918) widely read The Passing of the Great Race continued the attack on southern European groupings, which was ultimately, aimed at all dark

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peoples. Like Ross he pointed to both the physical and moral qualities of his targets: Such are the three races, the Alpine, the Mediterranean and the Nordic, which enter into the composition of European populations of to-day and in various combinations comprise the great bulk of white men all over the world. These races vary intellectually and spiritual attributes are as persistent as physical characters and are transmitted substantially unchanged from generation to generation. The moral and physical character are not limited to one race but given traits do occur with more frequency in one race than in another. Each race differs…. Mental, spiritual and moral traits are closely associated with the physical distinctions among the different. European races, although like somatological characters, these spiritual attributes have in many cases gone astray, (pp. 226–227) Dr. Carl C.Brigham (1923), psychology professor at Princeton, supported the aforementioned conclusions on physical traits and morality in his celebrated work A Study of American Intelligence (1923). He wrote: In a very definite way, the results which we obtain by interpreting the army data by means of the race hypothesis support Mr. Madison Grant’s thesis of the superiority of the Nordic type: “The Nordics are, all over the world a race of soldiers, sailors, adventurers, and explorers, but above all, of rulers, organizers, and aristocrats…” The pure Nordic peoples are characterized by a greater stability and steadiness than are mixed peoples such as the Irish, the ancient Gauls, and the Athenians, among all of whom the lack of these qualities was balanced by a correspondingly greater versatility, (p. 182)

FINAL THOUGHTS Racism, racial stratification, inequality, and the myth of racial inferiority persist into the 21st century. Although the language of shiftlessness, flawed character, and intemperance no longer appear in polite public discourse they are deeply embedded in the stereotyping of people of color. The racial myth has gone far beyond personal attitudes and folklore. It is inextricably connected to social engineering, international politics, labor economics, and public policy. Although it may make us uncomfortable as

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Americans to do so, several points compel reflection, particularly in the context of an effort to engage in meaningful moral education. Any society built on privilege must justify inequality. America today is without question one of the most dramatically stratified societies in the history of the world. With what can be arguably viewed as an oligarchy firmly in place, the economic gap between those at the top and those at the bottom rivals the distance between the masses and the monarchs of feudal Europe. The now dramatic and accelerating pyramiding of our society is tied to both meritocracy and race. Those who enjoy privilege are seen to have earned it. The correlation of wealth to race continues to be viewed in terms of capabilities and ingenuity. Second, the world has changed in the 21st century. Post-Cold War unilateralism has fueled the impulse toward empire. The United States is rapidly rebuilding its military (The Project for the New American Century, 2000) as many commentators raise fears about a new period of aggression (Bookman, 2002; Pilger, 2002), How will such actions be justified? It appears that race and religion will continue to provide salient points to construct the “other” who is unlike us, evil, primitive, and lacking in democracy. Finally, although repeated until it is now almost trite, the ideology of racism is a taught and learned phenomenon. Racism and the myths supporting it are transmitted through the institutions we encounter daily whether it be family, church, school, or other milieus. The world and humanity can never peacefully coexist until the bane of racism is eliminated from our midst. Several issues and challenges remain for citizens and (moral) educators alike. Morality and moral education must be both politicized and historicized. We need to explore moral issues and moral development within the context of power and human group relationships. Race and morality must be viewed within today’s dynamic social and political context. How can we expand the public discourse on morality beyond sex, stealing, and fighting? How can we expand the sociology of morality so that it turns our attention to the serious excavation of race and privilege?

REFERENCES Aristotle. (1970). Politics. Munich: W.Fink. Biddiss, M.D. (1970). Father of racist ideology: The social and political thought of Count Gobineau. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Bookman, J. (2002, September 29). The president’s real goal in Iraq. Atlanta-Journal Constitution, Fl. Brigham, C.C. (1923). A study of American intelligence. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Brinton, D.G. (1890). Race and peoples. New York: Hodges. Cartwright, S.A. (1851, May). Report on the diseases and physical peculiarities of the Negro race. New Orleans and Medical and Surgical Journal, 691–715.

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Ehrlich, P.R., & Feldman, S.S. (1977). The race bomb: Skin, color, prejudice and intelligence. New York: Quadrangle. Gobineau, A. de. (1967). Essai sur I’inegalite des races humaines [Essay on the inequality of human races]. New York: Fertig. (Original work published 1854) Gould, S.J. (1981). The mismeasure of man. New York: Norton. Grant, M. (1918). The passing of the great race or the racial basis of European history. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. Haeckel, E. (1874). Anthropogenie. Leipzig, Germany: W. Engelmann. Jarvis, E. (1844). Insanity among the coloured population of the free states. American Journal of the Medical Sciences, 7, 80–83. Middlekauff, R. (1971). The Mathers: Three generations of puritan intelkctuals, 1596– 1728. New York: Oxford University Press. Pilger, J. (2002, December 16). America’s bid for global dominance. The New Statesman. Retrieved from www.dissidentvoice.org/Articles/Pilger_USDominance.htm The Project for the New American Century. (2000). Rebuilding America’s defenses: Strategy, forces and resources for a new century. Retrieved from http://www.newamericancentury.org/publiccationsreports.htm Ross, E.A. (1914). The old world in the new. New York: The Century Co. Rush, B. (1799). Observations intended to favor a supposition that the black color of the Negroes is derived from leprosy. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, 4, 289–297. Rush, B. (1812). Diseases of the mind. Philadelphia: Kimber & Richardson. Stampp, K.M. (1956). The peculiar institution: Slavery in the ante-bellum south. New York: Vintage. Takaki, R. (1990). Iron cages: Race and culture in 19th century America. New York: Oxford University Press. Takaki, R. (1994). From different shores: Perspectives on race and ethnicity in America. New York: Oxford University Press, Tucker, W.H. (1994). The science and politics of racial research. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, van Evrie, J.H. (1853). Negroes and Negro “slavery”: The first and inferior race; the latter, its normal condition. New York: V L. Dill. Vaughan, A.T. (1972). The puritan tradition in America 1620–1730. New York: Harper & Row. Watkins, W.H. (1994). Multicultural education: Toward a historical and political inquiry. Educational Theory, 44, 99–117. Watkins, W.H. (2001). The White architects of Black education: Ideology and power in America, 1865–1954. New York: Teachers College Press. White, C. (1799). An account of the regular gradation in man and in different animals and vegetables and from the former to the latter. London: C. Dilly.

10 Moral Competence Promotion Among African American Children: Conceptual Underpinnings and Programmatic Efforts Robert J.Jagers Howard University CRESPAR Morgan State University Public Health Program

Over the past few years, my project team and I have been working to develop, implement, research, and evaluate a multi-component social and emotional competence enhancement program for urban African American school-aged children. We have pursued this work with an eye toward reducing risk for problem outcomes, but perhaps more important, with an interest in promoting desirable developmental competencies (Catalano, Berglund, Ryan, Lonczak, & Hawkins, 1999; Weissberg & Greenberg, 1997). It is fairly well known that African American children are placed at elevated risk for academic underachievement, substance abuse, aggression, and delinquency. Although eliminating risk for such problems is essential, what constitutes a wellfunctioning African American child has not been clearly articulated. Social and emotional competence entails an array of intra-and interpersonal characteristics, which, if considered from a distinct domain perspective, reflect aspects of personal, prudential, conventional, and moral domains of social development (Turiel, 1983). This chapter highlights elements of our work deemed germane to children’s moral competence development. Moral competence refers to the ability to assess and respond to ethical, affective, or social justice dimensions of a situation (Catalano et al., 1999). This is particularly important to us in light of the persistence and intensity of community violence and its implications for the moral development of children and youth. We understand this violence to be intrapsychic, interpersonal, and structural in nature (Jagers, Mattis, & Walker, 2003; Sparks, 1994; Ward, 1988, 1995). Portions of this chapter were presented at the meeting of Association of Moral Educators, Chicago, November 8, 2002. 194

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Among the principal assumptions of this effort is that there is considerable variation among African American people. We suggest that some of that variation is explained by the complex intersection of gender, culture, class, and race, which yields multiple moral communities among urban African Americans. We have proposed four racialized cultural identities, and outlined some of the associated moral cognitions and emotions that prompt or inhibit violence involvement by members of the distinct identity groups. A second assumption is that historical and contemporary circumstances dictate that programs for African American children explicitly prepare them to realize their potential and responsibility to contribute to the ongoing struggle for selfdetermination and empowerment within the American democratic system. In this chapter I first discuss oppression and liberation as overarching organizing concepts for our endeavors. The four racialized cultural identities— acquisitive assimilationist, acquisitive oppressed, communal humanist, and communal nationalist—are then described, A tentative competence model is offered and our proposed target moral competencies are presented prior to outlining competence promotion efforts in family and school contexts.

OPPRESSION AND LIBERATION AS POINTS OF DEPARTURE It seems uncontroversial to say that African Americans continue to experience oppression and exploitation in American society. Regardless of income level, a glance at any indicator of health, economic, or social status will usually find African Americans hovering near the bottom as compared with other identified race or ethnic groups. Watts and his colleagues (Watts & Abdul-Adil, 1998; Watts, Williams, & Jagers, 2003) defined oppression as the unjust use of power by one socially salient group over another in a way that creates and sustains inequity in the distribution of coveted resources. Power is needed both to establish and perpetuate oppression. Shweder’s (1996) distinction among authoritarianism, paternalism, and pure moral authority as types of power is useful to our thinking about the broader context of our competence promotion efforts. For the most part, African Americans have endured the imposition of authoritarian power. An authoritarian social order is one in which those in power act in such a way that only their own interests are served. Although participants in this social order recognize this situation, they lack the ability to stop the exercise of authoritarian power. This can be contrasted with a paternalistic social order, in which those in authority strive to promote the true interests of others, but participants do not recognize them as having moral authority. A paternalistic power can either force participants to do what is good for them or engage in benign neglect until participants recognize the ability of the authority to help.

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Although it is clear that African Americans have been coerced and have experienced benign neglect, it is debatable whether a paternalistic power has ever had the true interests of African Americans in mind. By extension, pure moral authority has seldom been evident. In a moral social order, authority is derived from the recognized ability to promote the growth and development of others. As Watts et al. (2003) suggested, liberation requires challenging gross social inequities between social groups and creating new relationships that dispel oppressive social myths and values. This process necessitates personal and institutional changes that support the economic, cultural, political, psychological, social and spiritual needs of individuals and groups. Of course, issues of power are relevant to liberation processes and outcomes as well. These observations raise important questions for us about the current and projected context of Black child development. For example, what are the points of commonality and divergence among various segments of the African American community? What are the potential alliances and contestations with other marginalized foreign and domestic groups? What is the most effective strategy for dealing with a White power agenda that vacillates between pseudoegalitarianism on one hand and domestic repression and neo-imperialism on the other?

THE CONFLUENCE OF CULTURE AND RACE We have pursued a cultural psychology approach to the social development of African American children. The concept of culture has a long history in the social sciences (Shweder, 1991; Turiel, 1998). After losing favor in the 1950s, cultural approaches were advanced by African American psychologists in the late 1960s (Boykin, 1983; Nobles, 1991) and have recently regained currency in mainstream American psychology as well (e.g., Betancourt & Lopez, 1993; Cooper & Denner, 1998; Greenfield & Cocking, 1994; Shweder, 1991). Cultural psychologists tend to conceive of cultures as shared systems of meaning that are transmitted within and across generations. These meaning systems contain an array of fundamental themes to which individuals orient themselves. Cultural orientations imply repertoires or scripts of personhood and collective identity that define the preferred functional psychology (e.g., cognitive, emotional, and behavioral inclinations) of individuals, groups, and institutions. Some of the more compelling critiques offered of the prevailing cultural psychology approaches have focused on the assumption of cultural homogeneity among members of distinct cultural groups (e.g., Turiel, 1998; Turiel & Weinryb, 2000). It is argued that one can find disagreement, dissension, and subversion within such groups and that much of this conflict is informed by the

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gender or socioeconomic status within these groups. We find considerable merit in such a critique and consider it as an invitation to interrogate the complexities of present-day African American culture. We start from the premise that African Americans have to negotiate simultaneously three intersecting realms of social experience: mainstream American culture, their African cultural legacy, and racial minority status (Boykin, 1983). A host of themes have been attributed to these cultural realms. In our view, the themes of acquisitive individualism and communalism are primary considerations for understanding the social psychological development among African American children and youth. Acquisitive individualism is but one form of individualism. It refers to an orientation in which the effective control and accumulation of people, material objects, knowledge, and influence is seen as a primary indicator of self-worth and social standing (Boykin, 1983). By contrast, communalism connotes an orientation in which the fulfillment of social duties and responsibilities reflects a premium on the fundamental interconnectedness, interdependence, and wellbeing of one’s group (Boykin, Jagers, Ellison, & Albury, 1997; Jagers, 1997). The assumption is that these orientations influence various types of social relationships, to include family, peer, and race relations. Jagers et al. (2003) attempted to outline the ways in which communal and acquisitive orientations might inform race-related attitudes and coping strategies that African Americans can adopt. We opted to use the racial ideology dimension of a multidimensional racial identity model (Sellers, Smith, Shelton, Rowley, & Chavous, 1998). As racial ideology reflects one’s sense of how African Americans ought to think and behave, we reasoned that an acquisitive orientation can be likened to an assimilationist ideology because it similarly promotes the desire to integrate fully into mainstream American consumer culture. Acquisitiveness was also paired with an oppressed-minority ideology reflective of the self-depreciation brought on by exploitation and limited mobility within American society. On the other hand, a commu-nal orientation coincides with the reciprocity and human interconnectedness featured in a humanist ideology. It also shares much in common with a nationalist ideology that emphasizes the uniqueness and primacy of the African American experience.

RACIALIZED CULTURAL IDENTITIES AND MORALITY The preponderance of scholarship on African American morality has proceeded from a cultural deficit perspective. It is assumed that most residents of lowincome and working communities embrace a Black oppositional street culture, which prescribes moral depravity (Anderson, 1999; Reed, 2000; Wilson, 1996).

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Moral decency in this population is thought to derive from the internalization of mainstream American values and practices (Anderson, 1999; Wilson, 1996). Others contend that moral decency among African Americans derives from African cultural retentions (e.g., Ward, 1995) The moral implications of acquisitive assimilationist, acquisitive oppressed, communal humanist, and communal nationalist identities as they related to community violence have been outlined elsewhere (Jagers et al., 2003). In brief, whether it is manifested in terms of assimilation or internalized oppression, the acquisitive individualistic orientation implies a bourgeois morality characterized by utilitarianism and instrumentality in social relations (Scheler, 1994). Such a moral stance mitigates the type of sustainable personal or collective well-being we advocate for. We are especially concerned about internalized oppression among low-income African Americans. The effects of oppression are often mistaken for indigenous Black culture (Anderson, 1999; Massey & Denton, 1993; Ogbu, 1985; Wilson, 1996), However, it is fairly evident that at least some of the central features of oppressed identity like, for example, hyperconsumerism and the use of violence to establish and maintain dominance are contextualized applications of mainstream American cultural thrusts. On the other hand, a communal orientation corresponds with caring and justice moralities, especially when framed in humanist terms. This moral stance eschews violence and is probably best typified by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. during the Civil Rights struggle. Nationalists also place a premium on caring and justice, but tend to focus on cultivating relevant moral norms among African Americans to obtain human rights and counter the oppressive and exploitative cultural hegemony associated with the prevailing bourgeois morality. Conservative (typically middle-income) nationalists generally leave it at that. Political nationalists tend to be less well-off financially and may take this a step further, promoting a revolutionary morality (Santucho, 1982), which supports sustained struggle and sanctions the use of violence, if necessary, to establish a more equalitarian moral order. This derives from the conclusion that revolutionary violence by the oppressed is the only mechanism by which oppressors can be forced into “reciprocal recognition” or full acknowledgment of the humanity and integrity of the oppressed (Fanon, 1963).

TOWARD AN ACTION RESEARCH AGENDA Rather than being seen as rigid, static categories into which African Americans can be pigeonholed, the four racialized cultural identities just offered are construed as rough anchor points for our applied research on competence development. Specifically, we were interested in cultivating a communal orientation as it holds the potential to reduce risk and to promote moral competence development. This includes the type of critical consciousness

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needed to identify and correct asymmetric social relations (Watts & Abdul-Adil, 1998). For example, a communal orientation has been associated with prosocial interpersonal values such as helpfulness and forgiveness, a sense of closeness to in-group and perceived similarity to family and same-race others among college students (Jagers & Mock, 1995). In a study of community activists, Mock (1994) found a positive association between a communal orientation and both agentic hope and a sense of vision for collective well-being. Finally, a communal orientation was consistent with greater levels of community volunteering among African American men (Mattis et al., 2000). Among children and preadolescents such an orientation corresponds with greater empathy and perspective taking (e.g., Jagers, 1997) and higher levels of sociomoral reasoning (Humphries, Parker, & Jagers, 2000). It is also predictive of reduced violent behaviors (Mock, Jagers, & Smith, 2003). We certainly recognize the limits of a communal orientation. However, we do not think that a priority on communalism erodes an appreciation for autonomy, self-expression, or personal achievement associated with individualism. Rather, it provides the necessary grounding for such pursuits, hopefully reducing the unfortunate tendency in American consumer culture to place things over people. In addition, we are not partial to either the humanist or nationalist position. It seems more prudent and adaptive to cultivate entrepreneurial sensibilities couched in an awareness of past struggles and a commitment to collective wellbeing in a complex present and uncertain future.

CHILD COMPETENCIES The dearth of available cultural theory required us to generate a preliminary model to guide our basic and applied research efforts. This model is shown in Fig. 10.1. It seems reasonable to assume that cultural orientations, like communalism, evolve out of children’s understanding and expression of moral emotions. Children form generalized scripts of sociomoral events that include typical affective consequences, such as happiness resulting from receiving help (Arsenio, 1988; Eisenberg, 2000; Hoffman, 2000). We assume that these scripts can help young children to develop cultural orientations, which reflect preferred or idealized patterns and outcomes of social interactions.

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FIG. 10.1. Hypothetical model of children’s developmental competencies. We borrowed from Arsenio’s (Arsenio, 1988; Arsenio & Lover, 1999) distinct domain framework for exploring emotional expectancies. A focus is placed on prosocial morality, which highlights the use of private resources to create beneficial outcomes for others (e.g., sharing, cooperating); active morality, which concerns interventions on behalf of victimized others (e.g., helping, comforting); and inhibitive morality, which involves victimization and unfairly depriving others of their rights (e.g., hitting, stealing, disrespecting; Arsenio, 1988; Arsenio & Lover, 1999). Given the prevalence of violence in low-income African American communities, inhibitive morality warrants particular attention. Chronic violence exposure can contribute to the development of a “victim complex” (Bulhan, 1985, p. 126). This complex frequently entails generalized fear, suspicion, anger, and a heightened sensitivity to personal slights or disrespect (Anderson, 1999). This may result in some children manifesting symptoms consistent with posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD; Osofsky, 1995) or gravitating toward drugs and alcohol as a means of numbing themselves. Still others resort to violence themselves (Fitzpatrick & Boldizar, 1993). Indeed, the probability of a violent response to personal victimization is made more likely by the common perception that failure to respond in kind may invite further victimization (Anderson, 1999). As tor (1994) reasoned that a history of violence exposure prompts youth to key in on the immorality of intentional (or unintentional) provocation (e.g., hitting, name calling, lying, and stealing) and

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construe physical retaliation as a form of reciprocal or street justice. Rather than de-escalating the situation or relying on sanctioned authority figures to intervene on their behalf, children and youth feel compelled to take revenge on those who transgress against them. In our current project, 50% of participating third-to sixth-grade children would resolve a conflict about an accidental bump through retaliatory physical or verbal aggression. Another 25% would avoid any further conflict, and the remaining 25% would actively work to resolve the conflict. Roughly one quarter indicated that they would respond to a conflict over turn-taking by resorting to aggression. Almost 60% would work to peacefully resolve the situation. Finally, most students (43%) indicated that they would ignore a classmate who was trying to aggravate them during class. However 25% would respond with physical aggression, and 17% would use verbal aggression. Only 15% reported using prosocial problem-solving strategies. Although variations in strategies used for specific provocations are evident, the reliance on retaliation is also apparent. It does not require a huge leap to envision an oppressed trajectory of anger at victimization leading to alliances with deviant peers for protection, and escalating lethality of street justice being linked to activity in the street economy. This is part of the reason why the moral emotions of empathy and guilt are privileged in our efforts. Empathy is an other-oriented emotion that refers to an affective response more appropriate to another’s situation than one’s own and is thought to be foundational to human concern for others (Hoffman, 2000). Guilt is a self-conscious emotion, which refers to “an agitation based emotion or painful feeling of regret that is aroused when the actor actually causes, anticipates causing or is associated with an aversive event” (Ferguson & Stegge, 1995, p. 20). It has been linked to the constructive management of anger to include, moral restraint, remorse, and reparative action (Tangney, Wagner, HillBarlow, Marschall, & Gramzow, 1996). In addition, admission of guilt precedes forgiveness, which refers to a”giving up of resentment, hatred and anger and taking up a stance of love and compassion” (Enright & the Human Development Study Group, 1991, p. 64). We have consistently found a positive connection between a communal orientation and empathy (e.g., Humphries et al., 2000; Jagers, 1997) and forgiveness (Jagers & Mock, 1995). As expected, the anticipated positive relationship between a communal orientation and guilt emerged in our ongoing project. In addition, we speculated that a communal orientation would also be consistent with social skills. Social skills are goal-directed behaviors that facilitate effective social interactions. We are particularly interested in selfcontrol and cooperation. Self-control is relevant to prosocial and inhibitive morality as it refers to appropriate responding in turn-taking, teasing, and other situations in which conflict is possible. Cooperation implies compliance,

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helping, and sharing behaviors and thus is germane to prosocial morality. As expected, a communal orientation was positively associated with both selfcontrol and cooperation. A related area that warrants attention is children’s beliefs about their ability to behave morally in various contexts, Bandura (1991) delineated several interrelated self-sanctioning processes that can prompt and sustain moral engagement. These include adhering to humane principles rather than pursuing expedience, refraining from using worthy social ends to justify destructive means, willingness to sacrifice personal well-being rather than participating in unjust social practices, remain sensitive to the plight of others, taking personal responsibility for the consequences of their actions, and highlighting commonalities with others rather than accentuating differences (Bandura, 2002). Being morally engaged may help to determine whether prosocial, active, and inhibitive moral sensibilities and related skills get translated into meaningful moral action in family, school, and community contexts. With age, race-related attitudes become increasingly important in children’s social relationships, especially in school and community contexts. The multidimensional racial identity model advanced by Sellers et al. (1998) offers additional prospects for understanding the emergence of humanist and nationalist ideologies. In addition to the ideology dimension, the model includes three other dimensions (racial centrality, racial regard, and racial salience). Centrality and regard are stable dimensions that can readily be thought of from a developmental perspective. Racial salience is a more complex dimension that refers to the extent to which race is an important personal characteristic in a given situation or point in time. As such, its expression may be contingent on centrality, regard, and ideology dimensions (M. Sellers, personal communication, July 2003). For example, we speculate that children might first develop the private and public affective appraisals comprising racial regard. The private component reflects the degree to which one feels closeness or pride in his or her racial group membership, whereas public regard concerns one’s perception of the way in which African Americans are viewed by others. These sensibilities might help inform racial centrality, which indicates the degree to which race is a core aspect of the person’s self-definition. Sellers et al. (1998) lend some support to this, reporting that, among 474 African American college students, racial centrality was positively associated with both private regard and nationalist ideological attitudes. On the other hand, centrality was negatively related with assimilationist and humanistic ideological attitudes.

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COMPETENCE PROMOTION EFFORTS We have approached our competence promotion efforts assuming coherence and purpose to the African American experience. This implies a need to fully collaborate with stakeholders, who possess or must acquire the knowledge, preferences, skills, and abilities necessary to enhance and sustain social and emotional learning processes and outcomes for children. Such an approach requires us to be cognizant of power dynamics as we attempt to craft a shared vision of viable, realistic program goals and pursue effective implementation processes. The underlying aim is to provide children with a narrow socialization pathway (Arnett, 1995) that offers consistent, morally relevant messages and experiences across family, school, and community contexts. Family Programming In our view, largely tacit family socialization processes contribute to young children gravitating toward a given cultural orientation. For example, culturally grounded factors such as the affective quality of early adult-child relationships, the allocation of family responsibilities, parental discipline strategies, and racerelated socialization are all thought to guide the emergence of children’s moral sensibilities. These types of family experiences provide children with a rudimentary understanding of moral issues such as fairness, compassion, reciprocity, need, accountability, envy, anger, empathy, guilt, forgiveness, legitimate authority, and the like. Our attempts at a culturally grounded family strengthening component reflect best practices in the area (e.g., Kumpfer & Alvarado, 1998), but are designed to meet the specific concerns of low-income African American families. For example, the stress, anger, and frustration associated with personal financial strain and living in an under-resourced community can undermine effective parenting (e.g., Elder, Eccles, Ardelt, & Lord, 1995). As such, social and emotional health and well-being of caregivers, to include outlets and supports for coping, is addressed prior to entering into discussions of caregiver roles and responsibilities. We explore ways in which material and emotional concerns might be addressed, with an emphasis on mobilizing family and neighborhood resources (Bowman, 1990; Sampson, 2001; Taylor, Casten, & Flickinger, 1993). Although this strategy has been shown to moderate the stress-parenting linkage in both African American mothers and fathers (Bowman, 1990; Taylor et al., 1993), we are increasingly interested in a more nuanced understanding of resource pools available to individual families (Jarrett & Burton, 1995). Briefly, heterogeneous pools include working and middle-income relatives who can provide more substantive assistance than may be available in economically homogeneous pools.

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Attention is then turned to the historical context of Black child development. Notions of caregiver identity, responses to oppression, and empowerment and liberation strategies are broached in the context of discussing parenting philosophies, goals, and developmental imperatives for children. Separate workshop sessions are used to describe normative benchmarks for African American children’s intellectual, social, and emotional competence development. Associated childrearing strategies and practices are discussed, with a particular focus on emotional socialization, discipline strategies, and racerelated socialization. Emotional socialization of children occurs through modeling of emotional expressiveness, reactions to children’s emotions, and teaching about emotions (Denham, 1998). There tends to be a positive relationship between the emotional expressiveness of parents and their children. Research on emotional socialization in African American families has highlighted mothers’ tendency toward negative emotionality and its impact on children’s understanding of anger and sadness (Garner, Jones, & Miner, 1994; McLoyd, 1990). It is assumed that explicitly addressing stress and coping and highlighting children’s normative development will create emotional awareness and foster relational skills that will assist caregivers in becoming more affectively balanced with their children (Denham, 1998). In this connection, we promote effective regulation and communication of anger and more open expression of pride and joy, as well as the modeling and coaching of moral emotions such as empathy and guilt. It is commonly held that the pervasive negative emotionality among African American caregivers contributes to authoritarian parenting, featuring harsh, power-assertive discipline techniques (e.g., McLoyd, 1990). However, research suggests that these caregivers use a variety of discipline strategies (e.g., Jagers, Bingham, & Hans, 1996; Kelly, Power, & Wimbush, 1992), Although induction contributes to young children’s moral reasoning, the use of ignoring undermined it but physical discipline did not (Jagers, et al., 1996). In addition, corporal punishment does not appear to prompt children to become aggressive and such restrictive parenting practices are construed to be effective in protecting children in risky neighborhoods (e.g., Deater-Deckard, Dodge, Bates, & Petit, 1996). Consistent with Brody and Flor’s (1998) notion of no-nonsense parenting, we emphasize that the proximal environment requires caregivers to exercise firm control within an affectionate, caring parent-child relationship. Emphasis is placed on family meetings and constructivist problem solving as well as making caregivers aware of the benefits of aligning discipline strategies with the social domain characteristics of the children’s transgres-sion (Smetana, 1995). One complexity we face is caregiver responses associated with children fighting in response to provocation. Although caregivers generally resonate with encouraging their children to avoid conflict, they also insist that their children fight back if hit by a peer. This tactic may be essential for children to effectively

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negotiate their neighborhood, but is inconsistent with school rules that often feature a zero-tolerance policy for violence. The contribution of household work to fostering responsibility is another aspect of the family component that is worthy of comment. Consistent with Grusec, Goodnow, and Cohen (1996), we advise that family care, as compared with self-care work, assignments enhance children’s concern for others. However, as Jarrett and Burton (1995) pointed out, within low-income African American families, family responsibilities and associated authority are often defined by the age structure of the family unit. They contrasted an age-extended structure, which has 18 or more years between generations, with an agecondensed structure, where there are only 13 to 17 years between children and their parents. It is suggested that age-condensed structures often force children to assume adultlike self-and family-care responsibilities in the home. This not only limits adult authority, potential for guidance, and monitoring, but it also makes it difficult for children to fulfill age-appropriate expectations in schools and other public settings. Caregivers’ cultural and racial-related attitudes and practices should have implications for their race-related socialization of children. Such socialization has been identified as an important factor in the competence development of children of color (Coll et al., 1996). Racial socialization is used in the literature to encompass both cultural and race-related socialization efforts. Although a majority of African American parents engage in race-related socialization (Thornton, Chatters, Taylor, & Allen, 1990), low-income single parents were least likely to do so. Most parental messages emphasize personal attributes needed to integrate into mainstream American culture, with a smaller percentage of parents focusing on racial pride and cultural heritage. Hughes and Chen (1997) found that among middleincome parents, parents’ perceptions of workplace bias and the age of the child help to determine the content of racerelated socialization messages. Consistent with these developmental trends, we emphasize the need for younger children to be exposed to Black history and heritage. As children get older, we suggest caregivers prepare them for the prospects of confronting racial stereotypes and biases. Finally, we highlight the need for consistent proactive caregiver advocacy for children in school and community contexts. Strategies for cultivating meaningful relationships with school personnel, especially classroom teachers, are provided. An effort is made to identify and develop partnerships with community members and organizations that can assist in supporting the healthy development of children. We support a sense of collective efficacy (Sampson, 2001), which refers to “the extent of social connections in the neighborhood and the degree to which residents monitor the behavior of others in accordance with socially accepted practices and with the goal of supervising children and maintaining public order” (Leventhal & Brooks-Gunn, 2000, p. 326).

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This seems particularly important given that almost half of responding children felt that community problems resulted a lack of caring (48%) or knowhow (25%) to make needed improvements. We assume that interactions with caring, committed community residents and institutions will help to contribute to the emergence of a moral-civic identity and a propensity toward sustained community activism (Youniss & Yates, 1999). Corresponding efforts to achieve community uplift are consistent with the development of communal humanist and communal nationalist identities. Given our concern with empowerment and liberation processes, we are moving toward a caregiver-led program. This mutual-help group model encourages and supports local stakeholders in activating and sharing experiential wisdom and in evolving existing relationships into sustainable support systems. This strategy parallels the cooperative group activities featured in our child curriculum and is aligned with our recommendation that classroom teachers use class meetings and cooperative learning techniques to create a caring community of learners (e.g., Jagers & Carroll, 2002). The notion of a caring community has been used to characterize effective mutual help groups as well (Roberts et al., 1999). This invites research attention to the ways in which individual characteristics of caregivers and group helping processes impact on program outcomes for caregivers and children. School-Based Efforts School-based programs offer an effective way to promote and refine moral competencies, as they are natural gathering places for students and their socializing agents within their community. There has been a groundswell of support for the infusion of social and emotional learning into the core classroom curriculum (Payton et al., 2000). It makes sense to use classroom teachers as implementers of school-based programs if there is a desire for sustained infusion of the program into the normal school day. However, many teachers are exposed to and subsequently internalize negative assumptions about the intellectual and social competencies of low-income African American children (e.g., Pigott & Cowen, 2000). Their diminished expectations, pity, frustration, anger, or cynicism can lead to excessive permissiveness or harsh, punitive treatment of children. Such interactions reflect the exercise of paternalistic and coercive power authority, respectively, and often precipitate children’s poor school adjustment and discipline problems (Waxman, Huang, Anderson, & Weinstein, 1997). In our evolving professional development, we encourage teachers to consider education as a cultural and political process. Discussion addresses professional goals and their relevance to preparing African American children to assume responsible and transforming roles in their families, communities, and the broader society (Hale, 2001; Ladson-Billings, 2001).

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Attention is then turned to ways in which the necessary moral authority can be developed and exercised in several ways. For example, class meetings are promoted because they feature democratic principles. They minimize the hierarchical relationship between teachers and students and allow both to express their opinions and suggestions about classroom rules and processes (Developmental Studies Center, 1996; Nelsen, Lott, & Glenn, 2000). This provides an opportunity to align these norms and practices with children’s notions of justice and harm (Nucci, 2001). Once agreed on, rules, procedures, and practices should be actively taught to ensure that they are understood and can be performed well. Positive recognition and encouragement are encouraged (Emmer & Stough, 2001). When inappropriate behavior does occur, the focus should be on highlighting moral consideration and brainstorming, selecting, and enacting a just solution, rather than blaming and punishing students (e.g., Nelsen et al, 2000; Nucci, 2001). There is some evidence that using these classroom management strategies can yield positive results with low-income African American children, (e.g., Freiberg, Stein, & Huang, 1995; Ialongo et al., 1999). These teacher-student relational strategies set the context for the infusion of social and emotional competence modules into the regular classroom instruction. Social and emotional curriculum modules are intended to teach the requisite understanding, skills, and abilities students need to become productive, responsible members of a caring community of learners and to contribute to their families and broader community. Proponents of the social and emotional learning movement suggest that programs should entail the core skills of awareness of self and others, positive attitudes and values, responsible decision making, and social interaction skills (Payton et al., 2000). Our curriculum modules are intended to extend best practices in social and emotional learning through a critical treatment of self-other relationships in African American cultural and racial contexts. An initial set of lessons is intended to guide students through an exploration of who they are from a cultural history perspective so that they can appreciate various aspects of their personal and communal identities. This provides a foundation for valuing themselves as unique, but deeply connected individuals. It also prepares them to learn to identify and understand the antecedents and consequences of their moral emotions, with special attention to empathy and guilt, anger and stress management, self-efficacy, persistence, and goal setting. A subsequent set of modules addresses various levels of self-other relations. The critical need to respect others and a have a sense of social responsibility is supported by the discussion of interpersonal and situational cues and the importance of prosocial verbal and nonverbal communication processes. As children experience frequent and often intense interpersonal conflict, we explore the causes of disagreements, prosocial goals, and problem solving as part of a critical examination of familial, school, and community relations. The

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connection is made between school success and family and community wellbeing and moral questions associated with oppression are addressed, including evidence of its internalization. The value of community service participation is highlighted and meaningful, replicable opportunities are created through community partnerships. Only after these issues are addressed is attention turned to multiculturalism and diversity. Similar to the family component, collaborative learning and hands-on activities are featured prominently in each module. The critical analysis of books and films accents and brings additional substance to each module. There is a focus on children’s comprehension of moral themes (Narvaez, 2001). There is an effort to promote moral sensitivity, moral reasoning, and moral motivation through reading comprehension strategies like discerning feelings, perspective taking, fact versus opinion, cause and effect, drawing inferences, and predicting outcomes.

CONCLUSIONS Morality is a pivotal concern in our competence enhancement efforts. There is much to learn about the moral lives of low-income Black children in family, school, and community contexts. However, when placed in the context of oppression and liberation strivings, their arrested life chances and undeveloped potential suggest that we do not have the luxury of pursuing basic research without making some distinct contribution to improving the quality of life of these children and their families. This chapter was intended to summarize some current work, and I have admittedly not done justice to the issues raised. For example, there is much more conceptual and theoretical development to be done, especially if we want to map out trajectories for the various racialized cultural identities for males and females. Effectively assessing processes and outcomes from this research presents significant challenges as well. Strategies for creating sustainable school and community-based programs for children and families also deserve attention. In addition, the chapter does not give adequate attention to issues of gender and socioeconomic status. This is not because they are deemed unimportant. Despite the fairly obvious concern for young mothers, related matters such as evolving definitions of manhood and womanhood in popu-lar youth culture and among middle-income people warrant close and indepth attention. In a similar way, we need to explore the intersection of class and racialized cultural identity. We are concerned, for example, with the draw of the oppressed minority identity for middle-income children and youth as well as with middle-income activism in the context of conservative attacks on civil rights.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The work reported herein was supported by a grant from the Institute for Educational Science (formerly the Office of Educational Research and Improvement), U.S. Department of Education. The findings and opinions expressed in this report do not reflect the position or policies of the Institute for Educational Science or the U.S. Department of Education.

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Mock, L.O. (1994). Validation of an instrument to assess the personal visions of African American community leaders. An unpublished master’s thesis, University of Illinois at Chicago, Chicago. Mock, L.O., Jagers, R.J., & Smith, P. (2003). Cultural and race-related factors associated with youth violence. Manuscript submitted for publication. Narvaez, D. (2001). Moral text comprehension: Implications for education and research. Journal of Moral Education, 30, 43–54. Nelsen, J., Lott, L., & Glenn, H.S. (2000). Positive discipline in the classroom: developing mutual respect, cooperation, and responsibility in your classroom (3rd ed.). Roseville, CA: Pritma. Nobles, W.W. (1991). African philosophy: Foundations of African psychology. In R. L Jones (Ed.), Black psychology (3rd ed., pp. 47–64). Berkeley, CA: Cobb & Henry. Nucci, L.P. (2001). Education in the moral domain. New York: Cambridge University. Ogbu, J. (1985). A cultural ecology of competence among inner city Blacks. In M. Spencer, G.Brookins, & W.Allen (Eds.), Beginnings: The social and affective development of Black children (pp. 45–66) Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Osofsky, J.D. (1995). The effects of exposure to violence on young children. American Psychologist, 50, 782–788. Payton, J.W., Wardlaw, D.M., Graczyk, P.A., Bloodworth, M.R., Tompsett, C.J., & Weissberg, R.P. (2000). Social and emotional learning: A framework for promoting mental health and reducing risk behaviors in children and youth, Journal of School Health, 70, 179–185. Pigott, R.L., & Cowen, E.L. (2000). Teacher race, child race, racial congruence, and teacher ratings of children s school adjustment. Journal of School Psychology, 38, 177–195. Reed, A., Jr. (2000). Class notes: Posing as politics and other thoughts on the American scene. New York: New Press. Roberts, L.J., Salem, D., Rappaport, J., Toro, P.A., Luke, D.A., & Seidman, E. (1999). Giving and receiving help: Interpersonal transactions in mutual help meetings and psychological adjustment of members. American Journal of Community Psychology, 27, 841–868. Sampson, R.J. (2001). How do communities undergird or undermine development? Relevant contexts and social mechanisms. In A.Booth & A.C.Crouter (Eds.), Does it take a village? Community effects on children, adolescents, and families (pp. 3–30). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Santucho, M.R. (1982). Notes on revolutionary morals. San Juan, Puerto Rico: Movimiento de Liberacion Nacional. Scheler, M. (1994). Ressentiment. Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press. Sellers, R.M., Smith, M., Shelton, J.N., Rowley, S.A.J., & Chavous, T.M. (1998). Multidimensional model of racial identity: A conceptualization of African American racial identity. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 2, 18–39. Shweder, R.A. (1991). Thinking through cultures: Expeditions in cultural psychology. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Shweder, R.A. (1996). True ethnography: The lore, the law, and the lure. In R.Jessor, A. Colby, & R.A.Shweder (Eds.), Ethnography and human development: Context and meaning in social inquiry (pp. 15–52). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

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Author Index A Abdul-Adil, J.K., 194, 198, 212 Abu-Lughod, L., 13, 18, 75, 87 Aciand, C., 94, 110 Adalbjarnardottir, S., 170, 171 Adelson, J., 71, 73, 88 Aksan, N., 39, 48, 76, 89 Albury, A., 196, 208 Allen, J., 84, 87 Allen, W., 204, 212 Allison, A.W., 64, 67 Allport, G., 125, 151 Althof, W., 141, 144, 145, 149, 150, 152 Alvarado, R., 202, 210 Anderson, C.A., 40, 48 Anderson, E., 199, 212 Anderson, L., 197, 206, 208 Appel, K., 149, 151 Ardelt, M., 202, 209 Ardila-Rey, A., 80, 87 Arend, R., 38, 49 Aristotle, 182, 191 Arnett, J.J., 202, 208 Arsenio, W.F., 136, 151, 199, 208 Asquith, P., 72, 74, 77, 90 Astor, R.A., 200, 208 B Baier, A., 137, 151 Bakan, D., 38, 46 Bakhtin, M., 93, 95, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 110 Baldwin, J., 65, 68 Bandura, A., 37, 46, 201, 208 Barbaranelli, C., 37, 46 Barber, B.K., 83, 87 Bargh, J.A., 36, 46 Barkley, R.A., 39, 46

Bates, J.E., 203, 209 Batson, C.D., 37, 47 Battistich, V., 33, 47, 50 Baumrind, D., 22, 26, 34, 36, 39, 43, 47 Beck, U, 163, 171 Bell, K., 84, 87 Bengston, V L., 75, 87 Bennett, W.J., vii, xiv, 13, 18, 32, 47, 54, 55, 56, 68, 70, 86, 87 Benninga, J.A., 33, 34, 47 Berent, R., 72, 74, 90 Berglund, M., 193, 194, 209 Berkowitz, L., 40, 47 Betancourt, H., 195, 208 Biddiss, M.D., 183, 192 Bingham, K., 203, 210 Bitz, B., 78, 83, 85, 90 Blakeney, C., 129, 147, 151 Biakeney, R.F., 129, 136, 147, 151 Bloodworth, M.R., 205, 206, 211 Blos, P., 81, 87 Bok, S., 13, 18 Boldizar, J.P., 199, 209 Bolin, G., 94, 110 Bookman, J., 191, 192 Bourne, E.J., 11, 19 Bowman, P.J., 202, 208 Boykin, A.W., 195, 196, 208 Braeges, J., 72, 74, 90, 91 Brigham, C.C., 190, 192 Brinton, D.G, 184, 192 Brody, G.H., 203, 209 Bromba, M., 157, 158, 171 Bronfenbrenner, U., 44, 47 Brooks, G., 59, 68 Brooks-Gunn, J., 205, 210 Brown, B.B., 114, 123, 125, 126, 167, 171, 172 Brown, C., 206, 210 214

AUTHOR INDEX

Brown, J.R., 6, 18, 85, 87 Buchanan, C.M., 83, 88 Bukowski, W., 118, 126 Bulhan, H.A., 199, 209 Buhrmester, D., 82, 88 Burton, L.M., 202, 204, 210 C Cacioppo, J.T., 36, 50 Calasso, R., 99, 110 Caldwell, E., 69, 87 Campione-Barr, N., 72, 77, 91 Caprara, G.V., 37, 46 Carroll, G., 205, 210 Cartwright, S.A., 186, 192 Casten, R., 202, 212 Catalano, R.F., 193, 194, 209 Chadwick, O.F., 71, 73 Chandler, M., 109, 110 Chartrand, T.L., 36, 46 Chatters, L., 204, 212 Chavous, T.M., 196, 201, 211 Chuang, S.S., 72, 76, 90, 91 Chen, L., 204, 210 Chen, Z., 84, 88 Cocker, J., 63, 68 Cocking, R.R., 195, 209 Cohen, E., 53, 68 Cohen, H., 43, 47 Cohen, J., 53, 68 Cohen, L., 204, 209 Cohen-Sandier, R., 69, 87 Colby, A., 31, 47 Coll, G.C., 204, 209 Collins, W.A., 72, 82, 89 Collmann, B., 163, 171 Coon, H.M., 75, 90 Cooper, C.R., 84, 88, 195, 209 Conrads, J., 163, 171 Cowen, E.L., 205, 211 Coy, K.C., 39, 48, 72, 89 Crean, H.F., 72, 77, 91 Crittenden, P.M., 38, 47 Crnic, K., 204, 209 Crockenberg, S., 39, 47, 81, 82, 87 Cummins, D.S., 14, 20

215

D Daddis, C., 72, 83, 91 Damon, W., 31, 47, 81, 88, 141, 151 Deater-Deckard, K., 203, 209 Degaetano, G., 166, 171 Delucci, L., 33, 47 Demos, J., 70, 73, 88 Demos, V., 70, 73, 88 Denham, S.A., 203, 209 Denner, J., 195, 209 Denton, N.A., 197, 210 DeVries, R., 85, 88 Dewey, J., 169, 170, 171 De Zengotita, T., 58, 68 Didion, J., 57, 68 DiLalla, D.L., 38, 47 Dinnerstein, J.L., 37, 47 Dienstbier, R.A., 39, 47 Dishion, T.J., 40, 50 Dobson, D.M., 40, 50 Dobson, J., 43, 47 Dohrn, B., 94, 110 Dodge, K.A., 203, 209 Dolan, F.E., 64, 68 Dornbusch, S.M., 84, 88, 89 Douvan, E., 71, 73, 88 Dreikurs, R., 85, 88 Duffet, A., 69, 88 Dunn, B.E., 40, 49 Dunn, J., 6, 18 Dunphy,D., 114, 126 Durkheim, E., 31, 41, 42, 48, 162, 171 Dworkin, R., 23, 48 E Eccles, J.S., 83, 88, 202, 209 Edelstein, W., 157, 158, 170, 171 Ehrlich, P.R., 174, 184, 192 Eisenberg, N., 199, 209 Elder, G.H., 161, 171, 202, 209 Ellison, C., 196, 208 Emerson, C, 99, 102, 103, 108, 109, 110 Emery, R.E., 72, 88 Emmer, E.T., 206, 209 Engels, F., 22, 48

216

AUTHOR INDEX

Enright, R.D., 200, 209 Erikson, E.H., 81, 88, 114, 126, 164, 165, 171 Etzioni, A., vii, xiv, 23, 41, 48 F Fanon, F., 198, 209 Farkas, S., 69, 88 Fauser, P., 170, 171 Feldlaufer, H., 83, 89 Feldman, S.S., 174, 184, 192 Ferguson, T.J., 200, 209 Fitzpatrick, K.M., 199, 209 Flanagan, C., 83, 88 Flickinger, S.M., 202, 212 Flor, D.L., 203, 209 Follansbee, D., 84, 88 Fornas, J., 94, 110 Foster, S.I., 72, 90 Fowers, B.J., 29, 48 Frankena, W.K., 26, 48 Freeman, V.G., 14, 18 Frey, D., 165, 171 Freiberg, H.J., 206, 209 Fuentes, D., 71, 88 Fuligni, A.J., 77, 82, 88 Furman, W., 82, 88 G Gaines, C., 72, 74, 91 Garcia, H.V., 204, 209 Garner, P.W., 203, 209 Garz, D., 145, 150, 152 Gilligan,C., 142, 152 Girnius-Brown, O., 39, 49 Glenn, H.S., 206, 211 Gobineau, A.de., 182, 192 Goines, D.L., 36, 48 Goldman, D., 107, 110 Goodnow, J.J., 43, 48, 204, 209 Gould, S.J., 174, 182, 184, 192 Graczyk, P.A., 205, 206, 211 Grady, K., 106, 107, 110 Graham, P., 71, 90 Gramzow, R., 200, 212 Grant, M., 190, 192 Greenberg, M.T., 193, 212

Greenfield, P.M., 195, 209 Grinder, R.E., 14, 18 Grotevant, H.D., 84, 88 Grossman, D., 166, 171 Grunwald, B.B., 85, 88 Grusec, J.E., 43, 48, 204, 209 H Habermas, J., 27, 48, 149, 152 Haeckel, E., 184, 192 Haidt, J., 35, 36, 48 Hale, J.E., 206, 210 Hallett, D., 109, 110 Hancock, L., 94, 110 Hans, S., 203, 210 Harmin, M., 33, 50 Hart, D., 81, 88, 114, 124, 127, 141, 151 Harter, S., 123, 126 Hartshorne, H., 14, 18, 32, 37, 48 Hatcher, C., 198, 210 Hauser, S.T., 84, 87, 88 Hawkins, D., 193, 194, 209 Hegel, G., 41, 48 Heitmeyer, W., 163, 171 Helwig, C., 116, 117 Hersh, M., 36, 48 Higgins, A., vii, xiv, 144, 152 Hildebrandt, N., 39, 49 Hill, J., 82, 88 Hill-Barlow, D., 200, 212 Hinshaw, S.P., 40, 48 Höffe, O., 139, 152 Hoffman, M.L., 199, 200, 210 Hopf, C., 161, 164, 171 Holmbeck, G.N., 82, 88 Hörmann, H., 131, 152 Horn, S.S., 116, 117, 118, 126 Huang, S., 206, 209, 212 Hughes, D., 204, 210 Hume, D., 31, 48 Humphries, M., 198, 200, 210 Hyles, J., 42, 43, 48 Hyman, I.A., 43, 48 I Ialongo, N., 206, 210

AUTHOR INDEX

J Jacob, T., 71, 90 Jacobson, A.M., 84, 88 Jagers, R.J., 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 200, 203, 205, 208, 210, 211, 212 Jarrett, R.L., 202, 204, 210 Jarvis, E., 186, 192 Jenkins, R., 204, 209 Johnson, J., 69, 88 Jones, D.C., 203, 209 K Kampf, H.C., 37, 47 Kandel, D.B., 71, 73, 88 Kellam, S., 206, 210 Kelley, M.L, 203, 210 Keller, M., 142, 150, 152 Kemmelmeier, M., 75, 90 Killen, M., 73, 80, 87, 88, 89, 116, 117, 126, 127 King, M.L., 4, 18 Kinney, D., 114, 123, 126 Kitayama, S., 11, 19, 75, 89 Klafki, W., 139 139, 152 Kobrynowicz, D., 37, 47 Koch, L., 136, 152 Kochanska, G., 38, 39, 48, 49, 76, 89 Koenig, A., 76, 89 Kohiberg, L., vii, xiv, 21, 25, 32, 33, 37, 42, 48, 134, 141, 152, 170, 172 Krawis, D., 163, 171 Kuczynski, L., 38, 39, 43, 48, 49 Kuhnel, W., 163, 171 Kumpfer, K.L., 202, 210 Kuypers, J.A., 75, 87 L Ladson-Billings, G., 206, 210 Lakoff, G., 22, 49 Lalonde,C., 109, 110 Lamberty, G., 204, 209 Lamborn, S.D., 84, 89 Larson, R., 167, 172 Laupa, M., 5, 19 Laursen, B., 72, 82, 89 Lawhon, D., 198, 209 Lee-Kim, J., 73, 88, 116, 117, 126 Lehmann, R., 157, 172

217

Leming, J.S., 33, 34, 49, 138, 152 Lesser, G.S., 71, 73, 88 Leventhal, T., 205, 210 Lewis, M., 14, 19 Lickona, T., vii, xiv, 32, 33, 49, 70, 86, 89 Lightfoot, C., 94, 96, 110 Lin, Y, 206, 210 Litman,C., 39, 47, 81, 82, 87 Loeber, R., 39, 40, 49 Lonczak, H.S., 193, 194, 209 Lopez, S.R., 195, 208 Lorber, R., 39, 49 Lord, S., 202, 209 Lott, L., 206, 211 Lover, A., 136, 151, 199, 208 Luke, D.A., 205, 211 Lynch, J.H., 41, 50 Lytton, H., 40, 49 M Maalouf, A., 66, 68 Maguire, M., 6, 18 Mahapatra, M., 142, 153 Mahler, M.S., 81, 89 Makarenko, A.S., 48, 49 Males, M., 94, 110 Markus, H.R., 11, 19, 75, 89 Marschall, D.E., 200, 212 Marx, K., 22, 25, 41, 46, 49 Massey, D.S., 197, 210 Matas, L., 38, 49 Mattis, J.S., 194, 197, 198, 210 May,M.A., 14, 18, 32, 37, 48 McAdoo, H.P., 204, 209 McGlothlin, H., 73, 88, 116, 117, 126 McLellan, J.A., 115, 126 McLoyd, V.C., 203, 211 Mechling, J., 94, 110 Mernissi, F., 6, 7, 8, 13, 14, 19 Midgley, C., 83, 89 Middlekauff, R., 174, 192 Milgram, S., 36, 49 Mill, J.S., 22, 49 Miller, J.G., 142, 153 Miner, J.L., 203, 209 Mock, L.O., 198, 200, 210, 211 Moffitt, T.E., 85, 89

218

AUTHOR INDEX

Moller, R., 163, 171 Montemayor, R., 72, 89 Mont-Reynaud, R., 84, 88 Morrison, T., 66, 68 Morson, G., 99, 108, 109, 110 Mortimer, J., 167, 172 Mory,M., 114, 123, 126 Moshman, D., 109, 110 Mullally, P.R., 75, 89 Munn, P., 6, 18 Murphy, E., 198, 210 Murray, Y., 39, 48, 198, 210 N Naipal, V.S., 9, 19 Narvaez, D., 207, 211 Neff, K., 12, 19 Neisen, J., 206, 211 Neruda, P., 66, 68 Newman, B.M., 114, 115, 126 Newman, P.R., 114, 115, 126 Noam, G.G., 84, 88 Nobles, W.W., 195, 211 Nucci, L P., vii, xiv, 7, 19, 73, 75, 76, 80, 85, 89, 97, 110, 116, 118, 126, 127, 142, 152, 206, 211 Nussbaum, M., 11, 12, 13, 19, 26, 49 O O’Connor, T., 84, 87 Offer, D., 84, 90 Ogbu, J., 197, 211 Okin, S.M., 12, 19 Olsen, J.E., 83, 87 Orwell, G., 58, 68 Oser, F.K., 131, 133, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 149, 150, 152, 153 Osofsky, J.D., 199, 211 Oswald, H., 157, 172 Oyserman, D., 75, 90 P Paley, V.G., 34, 49 Palincsar, A.S., 169, 172 Parker, B., 198, 200, 210 Pastorelli, C., 37, 46, 50 Patterson, G.R., 39, 40, 50

Payton, J.W., 205, 206, 211 Pepper, F.C., 85, 88, 90 Petit, G.S., 203, 209 Petty, R.E., 36, 50 Phelan, T.W., 69, 90 Piaget, J., 4, 5, 11, 19, 96, 97, 111, 124, 127, 141, 142, 153, 170, 172 Pigott, R.L., 205, 211 Pilger, J., 191, 192 Polakow, V., 93, 111 Power, C., vii, xiv, 144, 153, 170, 172 Power, T.G., 203, 210 Powers, S.I., 84, 88 Pugh, M.J., 114, 124, 127 Pulkkinen, L., 40, 50 R Radke-Yarrow, M., 39, 49 Rambusch, N., 35, 50 Rappaport, J., 205, 211 Rathore, S.S., 14, 18 Raths, L.E.. 33, 50 Rawls, J.A., 23, 24, 50 Reed, A., Jr., 197, 211 Regalia, C., 37, 46, 50 Reich, K.H., 129, 151 Reichenbach, R., 142, 153 Reid, J.B., 40, 50 Restrepo, A., 72, 91 Reuman, D., 83, 88 Rez, K, 165, 171 Richardson, F.C., 29, 48 Ritter, P.L., 84, 88 Roberts, L.J., 205, 211 Robin, A.L., 72, 90 Rorty, R., 137, 153 Ross, E.A., 189, 192 Rowley, S.A., 196, 201, 211 Rush, B., 186, 192 Rutter, M., 71, 73, 81, 90 Ryan, J.A., 193, 194, 209 Ryan, K., vii, xiv, 32, 34, 50 Ryan, R.M., 41, 50 Rychen, D. 169, 172 S Saarni, C., 14, 19 Salem, D., 205, 211

AUTHOR INDEX

Salganik, L.H., 169, 172 Sampson, R.J., 202, 205, 211 Santucho, M.R., 197, 211 Saraswathi, T.S., 167, 171 Scheler, M, 197, 211 Schiefele, U., 83, 88 Schine, J., 170, 172 Schmaling, K.B., 39, 40, 49 Schulman, K.A., 14, 18 Schulz,W, 157, 172 Seghers, A., 159, 172 Seidman, E., 205, 211 Seligman, M.E., 162, 172 Sellers, R.M., 196, 201, 211 Seiman, R., 114, 127, 137, 153, 170, 172 Sen, A.K., 26, 50 Shagle, S.C., 83, 87 Shakespeare, W., 94, 111 Schaps, E., 33, 50 Shelton, J.N., 196, 201, 211 Shweder, R.A., 11, 19, 142, 153, 194, 195, 211 Silver, M., 69, 87 Silverberg, S.B., 41, 50, 71, 72, 82, 90 Silzer, M., 161, 164, 171 Simon, S.B., 33, 50 Sippolla, L., 118, 126 Skinner, E.A., 165, 172 Slomkowski, C., 6, 18 Smetana, J.G., 40, 50, 72, 73, 74, 76, 77, 78, 80, 82, 83, 85, 86, 89, 90, 91, 116, 127, 204, 211 Smith, M., 196, 201, 211 Smith, R, 198, 211 Smollar, J., 82, 91 Sokol, B., 109, 110 Solomon, D., 33, 47, 50 Sommers, C.H., 13, 19 Sparks, E., 33, 47, 194, 212 Spitz, R.A., 81, 91 Spychiger, M., 133, 153 Sroufe, L., 38, 49 Stampp, K.M., 174, 192 Stangor, C., 116, 117, 126 Stegge, H., 200, 209 Stein, T.A., 206, 209 Steinberg, L., 41, 50, 82, 84, 91

219

Sternberg, R.J., 40, 50, 89 Stough, L.M., 206, 209 Straus, M.A., 43, 50 Sturzbecher, D., 158, 160, 172 Sueyoshi, L., 80, 89 Sulmasy, D.P. 14, 18 T Takaki, R., 174, 176, 182, 185, 186, 192 Tangney, J.P., 200, 212 Taylor, J.H., 40, 50 Taylor, R.D., 202, 212 Taylor, R.J., 204, 211 Tennenbaum, D.L., 71, 90 Thorton, M.C., 204, 212 Tisak, M., 73, 91 Tocqueville, A., 36, 50 Tompsett, C.J., 205, 206, 211 Torney-Purta, J., 157, 172 Toro, P.A., 205, 211 Tracz, R.K., 33, 47 Triandis, H.C., 11, 19 Tsang, J., 37, 50 Tucker, W.H., 184, 185, 192 Tugendhat, E., 135, 153 Turiel, E., 5, 6, 12, 19, 73, 75, 86, 91, 116, 118, 122, 127, 142, 150, 153, 194, 195, 196, 212 U Ulricth-Herman, M., 163, 171 V Van Evrie, J.H., 186, 192 VanGeest, J.B., 14, 20 Vaughan, A.T., 174, 176, 177, 192 Veugelers, W., 131, 133, 153 Verna,S., 167, 172 Vokey, D., 23, 50 W Wagner, P.E., 200, 212 Wainryb, C., 12, 19, 196, 212 Walker, K., 194, 197, 210 Walker, L.J., 40, 50 Wallwork, E., 42, 50

220

AUTHOR INDEX

Walton, A., 59, 68 Wang, S., 206, 210 Ward, J.V., 194, 197, 212 Wardlaw, D.M., 205, 206, 211 Wasik, B.H., 204, 209 Watkins, W.H., 173, 174, 192 Watts, D., 40, 49 Watts, R.J., 194, 195, 198, 212 Waxman, H.C., 206, 212 Weber, E.K., 80, 89 Weinfurt, K.P., 14, 18 Weinstein, T., 206, 212 Weiss, B., 84, 88 Weiss, R.H., 167, 172 Weissberg, R.P., 193, 205, 206, 211, 212 Wentzel, K.R., 34, 50 Wernich, J.M., 161, 164, 171 Werthamer, L., 206, 210 Weston, D.R., 5, 19 White, C., 185, 193

Wigfield, A., 83, 88 Wikan, U., 12, 13, 19 Williams, N., 194, 195, 212 Wilson, A.D., 37, 47 Wilson, I.B., 14, 20 Wilson, W.J., 197, 212 Wimbush, D.D., 203, 210 Wittgenstein, L., 130, 153 Wynia, M.K., 14, 20 Wynne, E.A., vii, viii, xiv, 13, 20, 32, 34, 50, 86, 91 Y Yates, M., 205, 212 Yau, J., 72, 73, 74, 80, 90, 91 Yeats, W B., 96, 111 Youniss, J., 82, 91, 115, 126, 205, 212 Yule, W., 71, 73, 90 Z Zan, B., 85, 8

Subject Index A Adolescence and conflict with parents, 40, 70–72, 74, 81–82 and defiance, 40 and parental authority, 76–78, 84 and school practices, 83–86 and risk taking, 94–95, 103–105 and teacher authority, 76, 78–80 negative views of, 69–70 positive relations with parents, 71– 72, 82 Affect and morality, 35–36 African-Americans and child competencies, 198–205 and social exploitation, 194–195 families and adolescents, 72, 77 youth at risk, 193 Agency, 38 Aggression, 40 Assimilationist ideology, 196 Authority, 5, 12, 38 and authoritative classroom, 34, 45– 46 and parenting, 43–44, 77 Autonomy, 41, 80 and morality, 5, 42 as developmental process, 81–82 in adolescence, 40, 74, 76 B Black Americans and moral stereotypes, 178–180, 188–190 and moral education, 181, 191, 207 C Care in classrooms, 33 Categorical imperative, 22, 136 Character, 30–31, 38, 42, 53

Character education, vii, 29, 31–34, 45, 55, 138 Competence promotion with families, 202–205 with schools, 205–207 Compliance, 39 as behavioral, 38 as dispositional, 38–39 Conflict in childhood, 63–64 Conventional domain, see also social con-vention, 73, 77, 116, 142 Culture, 11 and adolescent-parent conflict, 73– 74, 77 and race, 195–196 and relativism, 29 221 and treatment of women, 8–13, 29 and value of person, 24 D Domain theory, 73, 116 Deontic moral theory, 23–25, 45 Dialectical materialism, 21–23, 44 Discourse theory, 97–100 E Ethics, 54–55, 64–65 G German reunification and nee-Nazism, 157–160 and neo-Nazism, 157–160 and anomie among youth, 161–164 H Honesty, 13 and deception, 14 and social inequality, 15 222

223

SUBJECT INDEX

I Identity and peer exclusion, 123–124 and adolescent neo-Nazism, 161– 166 racialized identity and morality, 197–198 Individualism and collectivism, 11, 12, 75 and acquisitive individualism, 196 Intuitionism, 35–37 J Just community school, 130, 143–146 and realistic discourse, 146–149 L Liberalism, 23 Lowrider Art, 105–108 M Montessori classroom, 35 Moral atmosphere, 34, 45 Moral competence, 194 Moral decay, current period of, vii, viii, 55–56, 70, 93–94, 149–150 Moral development as entailing resistance, 3, 11, 63–65 Moral discourse ethics, 27 Moral domain, 7, 73, 77, 116, 142 Moral education as developmental process, vii, 31, 137, 169–170 as identity formation, 60–61, 169 and Kohlberg, 142–143 and peer exclusion, 124–125 and teachers, 61, 66 Morality, 30, 95–96 and agency, 37, 97 and authority, 5, 42, 96 and humanism, 58 and racism, 174 and religion, 58 and school rules, 5, 63 and self, 109 disengagement from, 37

N Negative knowledge, 129–132 Negative morality, 129–130, 133–135 O Oppression, 26 and freedom, 9, 16 P Peer exclusion, 113 and convention, 117–120, 122 and development, 122 and gender, 116 and morality, 117, 120 and race, 116–117 and sexuality, 118–120 Peer groups in adolescence, 113–115 Personal (psychological) domain, 7, 80, 116, 142 and social exclusion, 117 in adolescence, 74–75, 78 Punishment, 43 Puritan ideology, 175–176 and race, 175–178 R Relativism, 28 and morality, 29 and tolerance, 29 Resistance and subversion among women, 8–13 and culture, 12 and social change, 4, 9–10, 16–17 as developmental process, 3, 11 in adolescence, 76, 81–82 in childhood, 4–6, 39, 63 in social relationships, 3, 7, 16 Rule utilitarianism, 22 S Scientific racism, 182–187 Self and consciousness, 97–98 as carnival, 101–102 as novelistic, 99–101, 108–109

SUBJECT INDEX

Social convention, 5, 64 Social hierarchy, 12 Socialization, 42–43 Standpoint theory, 13, 26–28 T Taliban, 9, 10, 17 Tolerance, 29 Triforial system of moral education, 138–141

224

U Utilitarianism, 23, 25 V Values clarification, 33 Violence prevention, 198–200 Virtue, vii, 13, 21, 25, 31–32, 45, 54– 56