Justice Schack: Kicking Down Front Doors

Some call him a hero, some a menace. One thing is for sure; when Justice Schack comes a-knockin, you better get your front ready. I had no idea what I was going to reflect on when I woke up this morning, decided to mull over the problem with a copy of the New York Times. Even though the story was on the front page, I didn’t get to reading it until I was about a half hour into the paper. It read “’Little Judge’ Rejects Foreclosures, Brooklyn Style.” It was only after I half-heartedly began reading the article that I discovered that I had stumbled across a gold mine of performance and frontery.
Justice Schack is perhaps what Goffman would call an intruder, or perhaps one of the imposters “in the audience” who act in the “interests of the audience, not the performers” (147). In this case, the performers are some of the biggest banks in the nation, and the audience comprises of everyone who gets devoured by their behemoth appetites.
What makes the Schackster different from the many other judges working with foreclosed homes, is that he does not stand for the front that the banks compose, he does not perform business with them as it has usually been conducted in the past. In the past, banks have gotten away with faulty and mismanaged claims, and still presented themselves as legitimate enterprises who are taking what is rightfully theirs. The Schack Attack refused to take part in what he calls a complex corporate “confidence game,” which incidentally is a term frequented by Goffman when describing specific performances. He always fights foreclosure claims, even though homeowners often do not choose to fight themselves, accepting the front put on by the banks as legitimate. \
What I took from this article is the importance trying to look past others fronts when it appears that the fronts are out on for devious purposes. According to the article, judges rarely “hold large corporations to the rules” (14A). So someone needed to scrutinize the fronts between the two teams, the large banks and those who are supposed to hold them in check.

Reflection 1

In class, we discussed identity and "what makes you you," whether it be your background, personal interests, or aspirations. What struck me as most interesting in our discussion was when Professor Jackson asked us if something we have no control over or is forced up on us still shapes our identity. It really made me think about my religion. My mom is a hardcore Catholic, so my older sister and I both went to Catholic school from kindergarten to eighth grade, and our family attended Church every Sunday. However, as I became older, I wanted to attend Mass less and less, and my mom now forces me to go every week. It’s not that I dislike religion; it just bothers me that Catholicism has strict rules that you must follow or suffer the consequences. Yet when someone asks me what religion I am, I respond Catholic without a hesitation. I really have no clue why I do this- I have no intention of continuing the Catholic faith once I move out of my house, but I still identify myself as Catholic. Maybe it's because of my experiences with the religion that I do this. Attending church choir practice and volunteering with the children's liturgy used to consume the majority of my time. Even though I have come to severely dislike it, the Catholic faith will always be a part of my past, which is why I think I may still identify as Catholic. Even though it was forced upon me and I dislike it now, it is still a part of my identity and "makes me me." So I feel like we have no control over aspects that are forced upon us, whether by family or our surroundings...it automatically becomes a part of our identity whether we like it or not.

Reflection 1: Oh Washington...

Ah, my first blog post. I don't know if I'm the only one who didn't respond to the first response question, but I must say it was entirely my own fault. In the syllabus, it said we can talk about blah blah blah, AND SO ON. This seems a little too open ended, for it tempts me to right absolute nonsense. But I won't, for Explorations seems to be a quite promising class. And Jackson's too cool to disappoint.

What has struck me most about the last couple of weeks is our study of the city of Washington, D.C. Before coming to school here, I didn't know D.C. had so many problems. I knew of the high crime and poor school systems, but I didn't know why. Now it seems clear to me: no one really cares about D.C. residents. As we have discussed inside and outside the classroom, there are several tell-tale signs. One that we have witnessed first hand is the metro system. It is quite clean and easy to use, but it obviously caters to the suburbs outside the city lines. It's primary purpose is to bring commuters in and out of the city. The lines stretch out from the suburbs into the heart of D.C. and quickly loop around and out. Maintenance (elevators go down, trains are delayed) always seems to happen whenever I want to go somewhere, not on commuters' time. The most telltale sign is the striking difference between the red and green lines. The red line caters to the nicer north section of town. It has consistent air conditioning, and the demographic of the passengers is what I like to call "pale". But once you switch trains onto the green line at Chinatown, it's a whole different story. The cars turn muggy and uncomfortable from lack of AC. The trains seem to come less frequent. Most of all, the people are different. It seems that the closer you get to Anicostia, the "darker" it gets. It was shocking to me to see the immediate shift in demographics once you hit the green line. I won't say that I was uncomfortable, for I grew up in a very diverse neighborhood, but I was sensitive to the fact that I was witnessing an essential characteristic of the city first hand. Seriously, do all the black people of D.C. live in the south east quadrant? It seems that way. When I stepped into Anicostia from the Metro during Discover D.C., I must tell you, I have never seen a denser population of African-Americans in my LIFE. I say this because where you find people of color, you usually find different colors, like Hispanics. But this wasn't the case, and it surprised me. It's like all the cities black people were squished into Anicostia. The gentrification of D.C. has really pushed the black people out of the city.

DC puts on such a front for the rest of the world. Outsiders only know of the striking monuments, museum, and movers-and-shakers of government. Before coming here I didn't know of the ghetto, the issues in development, or the general plight of D.C. residents. This is our nation's capital, so it makes sense to put our best foot forward. However, as the capital, it should display the way America treats its citizens. Washington D.C., in my book, is making a poor example.

Hey Reflection Your Front is Showing

In both Western Philosophy and Explorations this week we've focused on Identity and defining self.

In philosophy it can generally be stated that "self" doesn't exist in a vacume. You draw on experiences, the reactions and experiences of those around you, social constraints, and ideals to create the you you show to the world. Similarly when we went to the Nationals Ballpark for Explorations we got to see a "self" in progress.

The identity of the Nationals is a vacume (yeah the team sucks) in that it doesn't have experiences of its own to draw on and so has to draw in the history of those around it to exist. This form of existance gives everything about the team a very prepacked focus group feel that real baseball fans don't appreciate.

Baseball has in recent years become a sport of nostalgia. It long ago was circumvented by football "America's pastime" but it allows fans to look back at a less brutal time. Was baseball's heyday really less brutal? No. but it is the performance of the "take me out to the ballgame" nostalgia that keeps ballpark seats filled. Naturally it follows that older more established clubs like the Yankees, Red Soxs, Cubs, and Dodgers are among the most popular. Those clubs are able to rely on their long histories and catalogue of historic players to draw fans into their performance.

The Nationals have no such luxury. Instead they draw on the regional teams for support. The Senators, now the Texas Rangers (another historically bad ball club) have large sections devoted to their stars.

It's not entirely the National's fault. They're just the new kids in a school where the cliques were formed in the 30's. Give 'em time to break in their focus group stadium and the performance will be more natural.

If they start winning more games they'll be sitting at the cool kids table in no time.

Week 1 Reflection -- Goffman in the Movies

This weekend, a bunch of us watched the movie "Don Juan del Marco." It was amazing how many times during the movie you heard people say, "Goffman!" A young man who claims to be Don Juan is brought into a mental institution. He then makes this agreement with one of the psychologists: "Don Juan" has ten days to prove who he is, ten days to prove his identity before he will be put on medication.

There was one part of this movie that I noticed an incredible connection to what Goffman writes about. Throughout Don Juan's life, he always wore a black mask around his eyes. He initially wore this mask to hide his shame after his dad died; this mask made him feel stronger. He took this mask off after making a huge mistake that hurt the woman he loved. The connection to Goffman that I thought of was how he let down his front that made him appear stronger and showed her who he was behind the front...at his most vulnerable state. I think when we talked about what identity was in class I felt more that your front was more part of your identity, but the more I think about it I feel that your front is an act that covers up your identity more than portrays it. Though I do believe your front is part of your identity, I think its a very small part. Your front is largely due to a combination of social cues and expectations whereas who you are in the back region is your true self, your true identity.

Funeral

In his passage regarding funerals, I believe that Goffman is right on point in his writing. If you look at it from a literal point of view, a funeral consists of a group of people mourning the death of a loved one. All of the attention is focused on the deceased, so he is technically "the center of the show." As Goffman writes, the people attending are full of grief, which is also one hundred percent correct. However, I believe this is because of the pressures of the social norms. It would be weird and considered disrespectful to see an individual cracking jokes, shouting, and wearing bright colors while at a funeral. Rules of funeral etiquette include wearing darker clothes and remaining somber. Because of this expected behavior, I believe that people feel forced to act a certain way while attending a funeral. For example, my aunt died when I was eleven, and even though I was fine throughout the service, I started to cry when my mom did. I remember thinking that if a grown woman who was much stronger than me was crying, I should definitely be crying too. Even though I was only a kid, I believe the same standard holds true for adults- nobody wants to be the only one not crying.

Although I agree with the majority of Goffman's comments, I found his remarks that the deceased "must stay in character as someone who is in a deep sleep" to be a bit offensive. Yes, the deceased is the main focus of the service, but I think that saying that he is simply sleeping is insensitive and takes the metaphor too far. Goffman must remember that in the end he is in fact writing about real people.

Funerals

Regardless of how it sounds, a funeral is a performance. Sure, the primary focus of a funeral is to honor the dead, but this is accomplished through a whole slew of rituals that are in essence performances. If people didn’t want a performance, an undertaker wouldn’t be hired to (as Goffman says) “direct” the event. The undertaker is clearly there to take a leadership role in ensuring the funeral has the conventional elements – all the elements that people who aren’t necessarily distraught because of the person’s death but who are at the funeral supporting the people who are distraught expect to see. Religious practices at the memorial service, the funeral procession, and the carrying of the casket by the pallbearers are all symbols of respect – but the whole symbolic nature of these practices seem to me to be just more of a performance.
Looking at another angle of this, the family members of the diseased are actors in the performance as well. In the “front region”, these family members do their best to act put-together, but in the “back region”, they can truly let their feelings out. When my grandma died, my mom played such a large role in the logistics of making sure the funeral was properly arranged that she couldn’t wait for the funeral to be done with so that she didn’t have to put on a show for others but rather do her grieving in private. If a funeral was truly about honoring the dead and supporting those affected by it most, a big service would not be needed.

Performances and funerals

While he at first may seem to be insensitive, Goffman’s comparison of a funeral to a performance actually has merit. Tradition says that funerals are supposed to evoke raw emotion in their participants, and no doubt that those affected by the death, even friends and family only marginally connected to the deceased feel this emotion. However, rarely does a funeral occur in which every single attendee feels the same grief that they show. While it is proper to pay respects, everyday life has to go on; performers merely mask there true feelings for the sake of conforming to the image of an ideal. As a setting of such strong emotion, a funeral also has to be the setting of strong performances.

Some of the most interesting performances come from children attending funerals. At the end of funeral services, the kids in attendance are the first to start showing emotions other than grief and solemnity, and their jokes and laughter open the floodgates for other attendees to begin chatter and laughter of their own. Goffman’s final example of performance at a funeral points out the acting done by the undertaker, and funeral director. These people, among all the others, will be affected least by the funeral process. Their constant exposure to death and grief will numb them to the emotional impact of funerals, as well as the fact that they best know the deceased through the bizarre and gruesome embalming processes.