A night of fieldwork in Amsterdam

I often wonder why anybody would prefer to crunch numbers than do fun qualitative research.

I'm in Amsterdam right now. I made contact with and successfully gained access to my desired police station tonight (to make a long story short).

I want to compare the attitude toward drugs of Baltimore and Amsterdam police officers. These attitudes are very different. Even the most conservative of Dutch cops thinks that people should be able to purchase and smoke weed in “coffee shops.” No Dutch cop thinks that drug users should rot in prison. Most Dutch cops think that punishment needs to be harsher for dealers of “hard drugs” (crack and heroin).

I meet the chief. He is both friendly and smart. And welcoming to an outside American research he doesn't know. I interview him and some of his main men. Then I ask to talk to some low-level cops, doing the kind of work I did. I am passed around to various police officers and interview them all.

As a cop, I’m impressed with the free coffee machine. It makes much better coffee than the machines they used to have when I did research here 10 years ago in de Pijp.

Next to the coffee machines is a box of free sandwiches. While the cop in me loves free food. I pass on the broodjes. I think it’s strange that the police here make such an effort to keep cops from taking free food outside the police station that they prefer the cops to eat and drink without leaving the police station. Is that a victory?

One police officer asks me if I want to join some plain-clothes officers on their patrol of the Red Light District. Sure, I say. So I do.

The big problem of the area is not drug use or prostitution. Prostitution is legal here. Marijuana and hash can be legally bought in any of many legal “coffee shops.” The big problem of the vice-filled center in this city of sin is, get this, fake-drug dealers.

People who stand on bridges trying to get stupid tourists to buy drugs. Except they don't have drugs. And they might take you into an alley and rob you. It's not much of a crime here to sell baking soda. So it's hard to get rid of these guys. And they really are a terrible P.R. problem for Amsterdam.

So many tourists come here and think, "This city is so overrun with drugs. I mean, there's a drug dealer standing on every corner!" There's not a drug dealer on every corner. But there is a man trying to sell you fake drugs on most bridges in this very small part of the city where all the tourists walk around to do their vice-related slumming tour. (Can you imagine if Baltimore’s Eastern District was a tourist attraction... and it was perceived to represent the whole city?)

These cops, a man and a women, have been on this detail for three months. So all the bad guys know them, uniform or not.
You can see this as the guys look down and slink away when they see the plain-clothed police.

So the cops ask me to walk in front of them so people would proposition me (really, I'm not well known in the Red Light District). So I do. It's raining for the first time in days, so the streets are relatively empty. But after maybe 1/2 an hour, I walk by a man.
He says, "Cocaine?"
I say, "What?"
He says, "You want to buy cocaine, heroine, ecstasy?"
That’s it. That’s what they need for the arrest.
I say, "How much?"
He says, "Follow me."
I say, "No thanks." And, using our pre-arranged sign, I take off my hat. I walk away. The officers, close behind and in listening range, make the arrest.

This is such small-scale stuff for a Baltimore cop. But it’s been years since I’ve been part of the action. Hell, I never even worked plain-clothes. My heart is beating fast as I enjoy the small surge of adrenaline. It’s fun to be back in the game, even if in a very small way.

These cops have arrested this guy before. He is walked (rather freely, in my opinion) back to the police station. He is treated very politely and very humanly.


The prisoner is guilty of the very minor crime of offering (non) drugs. That’s a 150 euro fine. But he doesn’t have any real drugs on him, except his prescription meds. But he’s also guilty of violating his 3-month banishment order (issued four days ago) for the same crime. By law, he must stay out of the city center. Yes, in Europe, you can still be banished. Now he’ll get (re)offered a place to sleep and social help.

Unlike American police, most Dutch police are happy to offer social help.
“Really? Is that real police work?” I asked.
“Yes, because it helps solve the problem.... Isn’t it better to prevent a crime than make an arrest?” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Brave ethnographic confession from Cop in the Hood

Professor Corey J. Colyer of West Virginia University sent me the following email:

Peter,

This note is motivated by a remark you make about your methods in the first chapter of Cop in the Hood. It is rare (and therefore refreshing) to see an ethnographer admit that they failed to capture details in their notes. We get tired, overwhelmed, and even bored in our efforts to craft moderately complete ethnographic records. The bulk of the methods literature (in my humble opinion) unrealistically frames the good ethnographer as a tireless scribe, who dutifully returns to the desk after a long day in the field to generate thousands of pages of notes. This leads to what I describe as "ethnographer's guilt" and worries of being a fraud. I've never measured up to this model and it's nice to see someone as talented as yourself admit to this as well. [By that I mean, you seem to more than adequately support your assertions with rich ethnographic detail]. I suppose it makes me feel less like a fraud as I return to my manuscript this morning.

I'll sharing that section of your first chapter with my graduate level methods class next Monday.

With respect,
Corey

Corey J. Colyer, PhD
Assistant Professor
Division of Sociology
School of Applied Social Sciences
West Virginia University
PO Box 6326
Morgantown, WV 26506-6326

Outing the insiders

There’s a very interesting exchange on Slate.com between Sudhir Venkatesh and Alex Kotlowitz. These are two authors I respect deeply (and not just because Prof. Venkatesh was kind enough to offer to write a blurb for Cop in the Hood).

Their letters discuss the role of researchers vis-à-vis their research subjects. You should read all four.

I just finished reading Venkatesh’s Gang Leader for a Day. It’s a great book (and not just because Prof. Venkatesh was kind enough to write a blurb for Cop in the Hood)! I stayed up till 6am to finish it. Sudhir, as you may or may not know, got his hands on the books of a gang in Chicago. Like the actually financial books. With payments, employees, salaries. What a coup! He’s done great research in the old Robert Taylor Homes in Chicago. This book is the story of his research.

I’ve read two of Alex Kotlowitz’s books: There Are No Children Here and The Other Side of the River. They’re both great (and Mr. Kotlowitz didn’t write a blurb for my book). The former is about growing up Chicago projects and the latter about race and economic relations in St. Joseph and Benton Harbor, Michigan. He writes about cities and race honestly, fairly, and with great style.

In Gang Leader for a Day, Venkatesh arguably does some harm to his research subjects. This is a big no-no in the world of academic research. Venkatesh has gotten some flack for kicking a man who was in the process of getting a beat down. That doesn’t bother me, because in addition to arguably “deserving” the beat down, the man was attacking a friend of Venkatesh. More worrisome, at least to me, is Venkatesh taking part in business extortion and unintentionally “outing” the semi-legal hustles people use to get by in the projects.

Venkatesh could never have done his research if he had to go through a Human Subject Review Board (or I.R.B., Institutional Review Board). As a grad student, he somehow skirted this requirement. But I think the world would be a worse place without Venkatesh’s research. It’s good work and shame on the institution of I.R.B.s that wouldn’t allow it!

I’ve never been a fan of the I.R.B. Few professor are. I don’t think that overt non-experimental academic researchers should need approval to observe and interact with most human subjects. We’re not giving out experimental drugs. We’re not running experiments. We’re watching and talking and living. I don’t even like the term “human subjects.” It’s dehumanizing. They're people, damnit! It’s condescending to think that adults aren’t smart enough to make their own decisions about what to say to whom. And if they’re not, well, such is life.

Nor am I convinced that research subjects who harm others deserve institutional protection. I believe academics should act under a code similar to journalists. But federal law disagrees with me. And the press has explicit constitutional protection that professors don’t.

Kotlowitz, a journalist, doesn’t have to worry about I.R.B.s. But as human beings, both Venkatesh and Kotlowitz are naturally concerned about harms that may come from their presence. They both wonder about the obligation they have to their (poor) research subjects. Especially since they, the authors, are likely to benefit both financially and professionally.

Most research is done on the powerless and abused. In my study of police, I wasn’t dealing with what is traditionally considered an “at risk” group. If anything, police are considered by others to be powerful abusers! I wasn’t particularly concerned about my research “changing” my subjects. I want my research to change things for the better. I want a better police department and better policing.

But I had my concerns. What if I saw a Rodney King? What if I was asked to conspire in crimes? Should I stop my “research” and quit my job? Should I turn in other cops? Luckily, and hard as it is to for police-haters to imagine, I didn’t see any criminal or horrible police behavior (though I do think that somebody needs to keep better tabs on correctional officers—jail guards in particular).

Perhaps I’m underestimating the value of my Ivy League education, but I feel that any of my police colleagues could write a book as good as mine. Unfortunately they can’t write as well (and I give my public high-school English teachers more credit for that than Harvard or Princeton).

Researchers who “do” rather than just “watch” are always accused of not being “objective.” I’m not a big fan of objectivity. For starters, unless you’re a psychopath, I don’t think objectivity is possible. And even if it were, I’m not convinced it’s good. Too often objectivity is just a euphemism for ignorance. Objective outside research—that is to say, most research—runs the risk of being too ass-kissing and desperate, simply in an attempt to gain the access that naturally comes from an insider. Ethnography can’t and shouldn’t strive for the same level of scientific validity as found in the hard sciences. Ethnography isn’t chemistry.

What’s strange to me is the dearth of good social-science research on the police. I do think that it’s tougher to write about police officers than it is to write about gang members. You can write about who a gang member is, because there’s something more exotic there (at least to outsiders). The lives of people who go to work usually isn’t that interesting (so kudos to Ehrenreich for making it so). Workers provide for their families. I don’t think I have the writing skills to make a police officer interesting. But I do have the analytical skills to notice what police officers do. Luckily, what police do is often very interesting.

People also say police are closed to outsiders and hostile to researchers. That may be true, but only if you’re an outsider. Compared to Venkatesh befriending gang members, my becoming a police officer was a synch! And it’s very easy to become a police insider. They hire. And they even pay you.

You might say that my job as police officer was, to use Venkatesh’s language, a “hustle.” I used the police department to advance my academic career. I didn’t hide this fact. The Baltimore City Police Department knew this (and to their credit still hired me). Other police told me, “If you can use this job as a stepping stone to something better, more power to you.” I actually heard those exact words more than once. I had the luxury of being an insider.

If you’re studying the poor, or the working class, or prison guards, or restaurant workers, or taxi drivers, or drug dealers, you can simply become one or make friends with those who are. Maybe all groups aren’t open to outsiders, but most are. It’s human nature. The fact that most academics don’t even talk to the people they claim to study is either horrible class snobbery or a simple lack of cojones.

The problems of ethnography peer review

Way back when, I submitted an article to a prominent ethnography journal. Time passed. Nothing happened. I submitted the article elsewhere. It was reviewed, accepted and published this past summer. Yesterday I received a reply from the journal. Rejection.

I have never been in the somewhat awkward a position to receive a rejection for a published article. (There were good reasons why the process was so delayed in this journal, related to an editor’s personal health).

But the rejections were striking. Three out of three people rejected the article. This article has been published in the peer-reviewed Law Enforcement Executive Forum. And it forms the basis for a chapter in my book. It's good enough ethnography for Princeton University Press but not, apparently, for this Journal. I couldn’t get over one of the rejections. It stated:

This is not appropriate submission for [the Journal]. I can’t see how in any shape or form that this is ethnography or has anything to do with ethnography.

This bothers me. My research is ethnographic. So I couldn’t help but write the editor, who did write back an understanding email. It’s not the editor's fault. The problem is the process of peer review, perhaps especially in what seems to be the self-limiting field of ethnography.

My book, Cop in the Hood, is coming out in May (Princeton University Press). It is, dare I say, an ethnography. Here's what I wrote:

I appreciate the comments and agree with many of the critical points. Perhaps the article isn't best for [the Journal]. The article is weak on theory. It is geared toward police policy and practice.

I have a few thoughts on my mind from reading the comments. I feel and hope that you and the journal may gain from my thoughts. Take them for what you will. Take them constructively and not as the ranting of a slighted academic. Again, the piece is published, so at some level it doesn't matter to me. But I care about ethnography.

All three reviewers harp on the fact that this isn’t your typical ethnography. That doesn’t strike me as bad. I know this piece is more policy-oriented, but I hope my research expands the field of ethnography slightly in that direction. It bothers me that a policy or real-world focus would be part of the grounds for rejection or exclusion from the field of ethnography. It bothers me when I see the peer-review process in this field so narrow-minded that it is unwilling to consider a piece that doesn't "fit the mold." Likewise it bothers me that ethnographers wouldn’t consider a piece that some numbers in it.

I know this article isn't the "typical" ethnographic piece. I am well aware of ethnographic theory and consider myself an ethnographer (what else could I consider myself given my research and writing based on two years of P.O. research?).

In my mind, and maybe I'm wrong, research that follows ethnographic methods *is* ethnography. The style of writing and the format of the paper should be issues to judge, but not litmus tests. Again, I understand there are legitimate reasons to reject this piece for the [Journal]. But for cryin’ out loud, ethnographers, have a more open mind about what counts as ethnography!

The comments from reviewer 2601 I think are the best (not the most positive, just the most useful comments). The comments from reviewer 2622 are also constructive. The comments from 2602 are, as you I'm sure know, useless. Please don't have this person review another piece for the journal. What an asshole. People like that who serve as gatekeepers really limit the field.

Why can’t ethnography combine qualitative and quantitative methods? Why can’t ethnography be more focused on policy than theory? Perhaps these issues would make a better article for [the Journal] than an analysis of 911 calls for police service. But for both for academic and political reasons, I would hope that ethnographers would be a little more open minded. Of all fields to be judgmental and closed minded... how ironic.


Yours,
Peter

Professor Peter Moskos
Dept. of Law and Police Science
John Jay College of Criminal Justice
899 10th Ave, Room 422
New York, NY 10019