Youth and Violent Performativities: Re-Examining the Connection Between Young People and Violence [1st ed.] 9789811555411, 9789811555428

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Perspectives on Children and Young People

Ben Arnold Lohmeyer

Youth and Violent Performativities Re-Examining the Connection Between Young People and Violence

Perspectives on Children and Young People Volume 11

Series Editors Johanna Wyn, The University of Melbourne, Parkville, Australia Helen Cahill, The University of Melbourne, Parkville, Australia Hernán Cuervo, The University of Melbourne, Parkville, Australia

This series builds on the Springer Handbook on Childhood and Youth, and on the widespread interest in current issues that pertain to young people and children. The series contributes to the field of youth studies, which encompasses the disciplines of sociology, psychology, education, health, economics, social geography and cultural studies. Within these fields, there is a need to address two distinctive elements in relation to children and youth. The first of these is social change, and in particular, the risks and opportunities that are emerging in relation to the global changes to young people’s lives captured by the metaphor ‘the Asian Century’. The second of these is the emerging interest in building on the traditions of ‘northern’ theorists, where the traditions of the field of youth studies lie, through an engagement with new conceptual approaches that draw on the global south. These two elements frame the Handbook on Childhood and Youth, and in so doing, set the scene for a deeper engagement with key topics and issues through a book series. The series consists of two types of book. One is the research-based monograph produced by a sole author or a team of authors who have collaborated on a single topic. These books meet the need for deep engagement with emerging issues, including the demonstration of how new concepts are being used to understand the complexities of young people’s lives. The second is edited collections that provide depth on particular topics by bringing together key thinkers and writers on that topic. The edited collections are especially relevant to new and emerging areas of youth studies where there is debate. These books are authored by a mix of established academics, mid-career academics and early career academics, ensuring that the series showcases the work of emerging scholars and offers fresh approaches and insights in the field of youth studies. While the focus is ‘youth studies’ this series contributes to a deeper understanding of the ways in which this field is enriched through inter-disciplinary scholarship and research, reaching across the fields of health and wellbeing, education and pedagogy, geography, sociology, psychology, the arts and cultural studies.

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/13560

Ben Arnold Lohmeyer

Youth and Violent Performativities Re-Examining the Connection Between Young People and Violence

123

Ben Arnold Lohmeyer Tabor, College of Higher Education Flinders University Adelaide, Australia

ISSN 2365-2977 ISSN 2365-2985 (electronic) Perspectives on Children and Young People ISBN 978-981-15-5541-1 ISBN 978-981-15-5542-8 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-5542-8 © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

Acknowledgements

It is a privilege to listen to young people’s stories. I am deeply grateful to the young people who generously shared their stories with me. I am motivated and inspired by your bravery, creativity and honesty. Thanks to my wife Kate and our kids Summer and Oliver for everything. Thanks to my academic community including my Ph.D. supervisors Cassandra Star and Nik Taylor, my Ph.D. companions at Flinders and my colleagues at Tabor. This research was supported by an Australian Government Research Training Program (RTP) Scholarship. Sections of Chap. 4 and a version of Chap. 8 in this book were originally published elsewhere. I thank the publisher of the following for granting permission to reproduce copyright material: Chapter 4: Lohmeyer, B. A. (2018). Youth as an artefact of governing violence: violence to young people shapes violence by young people, Current sociology, 66(7), pp. 1070–1086. Copyright © 2018 SAGE DOI: 10.1177/0011392117738040 Chapter 8: Lohmeyer, B. A. (2020). “Keen as Fuck”: Youth participation in qualitative research as ‘parallel projects’, Qualitative Research, 20(1), pp. 39–55. Copyright © 2020 SAGE. DOI: 10.1177/1468794118816627

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1 Introduction: The Violent Performativities of Youth 1.1 Introducing the Participants: A Few Stories . . . . . 1.1.1 Screaming Matches with Mum . . . . . . . . . 1.1.2 Rolling People for Money . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.1.3 Masculine Domination and Democracy . . . 1.2 Research Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.3 Structure of the Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.4 First and Last Word . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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2 The Subjects and Objects of Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1 Power and Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 Two Approaches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.1 Passionate Force . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.2 An Experience of Violation . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3 Obscuring and Revealing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4 Possibilities and Problems: Bourdieu, Galtung and 2.4.1 Structural and Cultural Violence . . . . . . . . 2.4.2 Symbolic Violence: A Controversy . . . . . . 2.4.3 Subjectivities and Performativities . . . . . . 2.5 An Assemblage of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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3 Violence and Youth Studies in the 21st Century . . . . . . . . . . 3.1 The Violent Performativities of Youth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2 The Violence of Exclusion and Transition . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.1 The Cultural Violence of Youth as Transition . . . . 3.2.2 The Structural Violence of Education-Employment Transitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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3.3 The Epistemological Fallacy: Symbolic Violence and Lost Generations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.1 Precarity and Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3.2 Trivialising Institutional Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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4 Enacting Youthful Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1 The Availability of Subjective Violence . . . . . . . . 4.1.1 Inequalities and Fighting with Your Body . 4.2 The Complexity of Objective Violence . . . . . . . . 4.2.1 The Violence of Consumption . . . . . . . . . 4.2.2 Violent Institutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.3 The Rationality of Violence . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3 Coherence in Complexity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4 Power and Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.1 Class . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.2 Labelling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.3 Discipline . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5 The Violence of Youth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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5 Articulating Creative Resistance to Violence . . . . 5.1 Resistance in Youth Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2 Resisting Subjective Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2.1 Cultural Violence and Child Abuse . . . 5.2.2 Fighting with My Body . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2.3 Pragmatic and Principled Nonviolence 5.3 Resisting Objective Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.1 Seeking Alternatives . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.2 Symbolic Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.3 The Comprehensive Story . . . . . . . . . 5.3.4 The Language of Violence . . . . . . . . . 5.4 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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6 Neoliberal Violence and Marketised Youth Services . . . . . . 6.1 Neoliberalism: Violating Liberal-Paternalist Governance . 6.2 Restorative Practices and Fair Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3 Fair Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.1 Narratives of Unfair Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.2 Separating Process and Outcome . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3.3 Non-participatory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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6.4 Cultural Violence and Marketised Social Services . 6.4.1 Pragmatic and Prudent Governance . . . . . . . 6.4.2 The Violation of Marketised Social Services 6.5 The Neoliberal Violence of Fair Process . . . . . . . . 6.6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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7 Political Fractionality and Epistemological Violence . . . . . 7.1 Subjective and Objective: Violence and Epistemologies 7.2 Universalising Approaches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2.1 Emancipatory Youth Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2.2 Epistemological and Symbolic Violence . . . . . . 7.3 Relativising Approaches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.1 Justice Versus Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.2 Whose Side Are We On? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.4 Political Fractionality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.4.1 Everything Is Dangerous . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.5 Personal and Ethical Orientations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.6 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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8 Participatory Methods: The Violence of Adult Centricity . 8.1 Principles and Practices of Youth Participation . . . . . . . 8.2 Ethical Orientations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.2.1 Adult Centricity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.3 Parallel Projects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.3.1 De-Centring the Adult . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.3.2 Valuing Young People’s Projects . . . . . . . . . . . 8.4 Conflicting Projects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.5 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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9 Starting with Young People’s Stories of Violence . . . . . . . . . 9.1 Challenging the Association Between Youth and Violence 9.2 Young People Who Enact and Resist Violence . . . . . . . . . 9.3 Questioning Epistemologies and Methodologies . . . . . . . . 9.3.1 Implications for Future Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.3.2 Implications for Policy and Practice . . . . . . . . . . . 9.4 Casey’s Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Appendix: Participants, Recruitment and Interview Methods . . . . . . . . . 175

Chapter 1

Introduction: The Violent Performativities of Youth

Casey lives alone. Now that he is almost 18 years old the child protection system has moved Casey from group accommodation into independent living. The block of units in which he resides has been home for a little over a week. However, this house is likely to become just another short-term stay in a long line of state-funded accommodation services including juvenile detention. Public housing is scarce, so the residents in this block of units all share a government-issued vulnerable and low-income status. One night, Casey is woken by what sounds like people in his lounge room. Disturbing noises in the night are not an uncommon occurrence in Casey’s experience, especially in high-density housing. Rising to investigate, he finds a group of people have broken into his home and are stealing his TV and gaming console. Noticing Casey, the intruders first attack and then flee. The following morning, Casey’s youth worker arrives at his home to find him, scratched and bruised, sitting in the wreckage of this lounge room. While cleaning up the mess they start talking, and the worker encourages Casey to report the incident to the police. Casey is not interested in reporting the incident. That’s not how problems like this are solved in Casey’s world, and the Police have not always been a positive or safe presence in his experience. He has other ways to seek justice and is working on a plan to find the intruders. In his words, he is ‘going hunting’. As Casey and the worker talk it becomes clearer that the worlds that they inhabit are quite different. ‘Going hunting’ isn’t an acceptable solution in the worker’s world. Problems like this should be solved in ways that avoid physical violence and that utilise government services and the justice system. The idea of inviting more government intervention into his life makes no sense to Casey. He has had more than his share of anger management programs, counselling, mediation and case management services. What seems like a desire for revenge to the worker, for Casey is simply following the pattern and narrative of how problems are solved in his world. The conversation between Casey and the worker grinds to a stop. Getting up to leave, the worker promises to call later to check-in. Later that afternoon, Casey answers his phone. It’s the worker. Casey quickly ends the call, as he is busy ‘hunting’.

This book is about the stories of young people like Casey. Casey’s story is a true story. It is not true in the sense that Casey is a single young person, or that all the things in the story happened to him in the way it is told. Instead, it is true in the sense that it is a story that happens. It is a true story about the structures and cultures of violence and violation that are part of the experience of youth under, what Wacquant © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 B. A. Lohmeyer, Youth and Violent Performativities, Perspectives on Children and Young People 11, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-5542-8_1

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1 Introduction: The Violent Performativities of Youth

(2001, p. 401) calls, ‘liberal-paternalist’ governance. This contemporary form of governance is liberal in terms of economic policy, but is typically paternalistic, and often punitive, in terms of social values. The violating effects on young people and youth of this kind of neoliberal governance is a central concern in this book, and in particular the unique forms of violence this governance inflicts and perpetuates. This story is not the experience of every young person. It is, however, reflective of a group of young people whose stories are the focus of this book. These young people often have a complex and familiar relationship with the state and violence. They are regularly subjected to state-sanctioned personal violence. They also not infrequently perform violence on others. However, also equally importantly, they resist violent performativities and seek to counter the dominant narratives of violence within their cultures. Youth violence is often a topic of intense public interest and is commonly attached to an assumed transition towards adulthood and out of a supposedly inherently violent nature within childhood and youth. In contrast, I am interested in how young people become violent, and equally, how they resist becoming violent. Youth has a history of association with violent behaviour and resistance. Young people are routinely represented in media and politics as a violent group. Schoolyard bullying, youth gangs, child abuse, deviant sexualised behaviour and violent protest are regularly the subject of moral panics internationally and with each new generation. Youth violence and activism were again propelled into the forefront of international concern in 2018 through the spate of school gun violence and subsequent ‘March for Our Lives’ protests in the US. Moreover, moral panic emerged again in Australia in 2018 surrounding violent ‘African Youth Gangs’ and youth-led climate activism. In this book, I unpack how narrow frames of reference for conceptualising violence and youth have obscured the complexities inherent in young people’s performance and resistance to violence. I argue that young people adopt violent performativities as a result of subjugation to a complex system of what Zizek (2008) describes as ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ violence. The highly visible physical violence that regularly captures public attention has a clear ‘subject’, whereas ‘objective’ violence is hidden and embedded in social systems and society that are often assumed to violence-free. The young people’s stories in this book offer counter-narratives in which they reject the assumed violence-free nature of contemporary society and resist the violent performativities available to them as they seek to embody alternatives. Following Farrugia (2016) and Watson (2018), as well as Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) I borrow Butler’s (1999, 2011) notion of performativities to describe the enactment of an identity that exits both within and outside of the self. Furthermore, this identity is constructed by and simultaneously constructs the discourses of power that give shape to the available opportunities for action and identity. To conceptualise the complex interplay of constraining and resisting forces around violence and youth I also borrow from an assemblage of theories of power and deviance developed by Marx, Foucault and Becker (among others). However, these historical theories conflate power and violence and need re-examination to conceptualise contemporary forms of violating governance and the dominant discourses associating youth with violence.

1 Introduction: The Violent Performativities of Youth

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This book focusses on the experiences of 28 young people in Australia who have an acute exposure to the effects of what Giroux describes as the ‘merging of violence and governance’ (2014, p. 226). Giroux argues that young people in the 21st century face the eroding of essential institutions that have sustained democratic governance for previous generations. This deliberate disinvestment has violating effects in youth that Giroux calls ‘Neoliberal Violence’. Furthermore, as I argue in this book, the merging of violence and governance also has the effect of creating personal, structural and cultural systems that justify and perpetuate violence. The cohort of young people in focus in this book can most succinctly be described, at this early stage, as young people who enact and resist violent neoliberal performativities. This definition needs further refining as it contains considerable scope and is an assemblage of young people that seems intuitively unusual. Firstly, in addition to the geographical boundaries (i.e. Australian young people), this book focusses on young people who are uniquely exposed to the ‘merging of violence and governance’ described above by Giroux (2014). The participants in this research are young people who have significant contact and conflict with contemporary liberal-paternalist governments through the child protection systems, juvenile justice systems and political activism. Youth is an intensely governed period (Kelly & Kamp, 2014, pp. 7–8). Young people are increasingly the focus of ‘institutionalised mistrust, surveillance and regulation’ (Kelly, 2003, p. 166). However, youth is not evenly governed, and young people in child protection, juvenile justice or involved in political activism experience increased exposure to government during the already highly governed period of youth. As such, the young people in this book experience increased exposure to ‘the merging of violence and government’ (p. 226) under neoliberal regimes. As a result, their stories contain insights into the subjectivities or subject positions available to young people within the discursive regimes of the contemporary experience of youth, violence and neoliberal governance. These people could be described as the youthful subjects of neoliberal violence. In addition to this first refinement, the young people in focus in this book are also victims of violence, they enact violence, and they resist violence. To re-examine and challenge the association between youth and violence there is a need to include young people and their stories whose subjection and resistance to violence might seem ‘rather strange, and somewhat warped in comparison with more commonplace social, political or cultural meanings’ (Wieviorka, 2014, p. 59). In other words, to re-examine youth violence holistically and optimistically requires listening to young people who are typically thought of as perpetrators as well as those who are victims of violence. Furthermore, the aim of this book requires listening to young people who perform, but also who resist violence. The categories perpetrator and victim, as well as performance and resistance, are critically examined throughout the book and while they are an instructive starting point, they prove to be rudimentary at best (and ultimately unhelpful). The framing of this assemblage of young people will become clearer through the process of examining the taken for granted categories youth and violence in Chaps. 2 and 3. To recap briefly, to examine how young people become or resist becoming violent, this book listens to the stories of an assemblage of young people who enact and resist violent neoliberal performativities.

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1 Introduction: The Violent Performativities of Youth

The description of the participants in this research as youthful subjects of neoliberal violence will likely have already evoked many questions and concerns about how youth, violence and neoliberal governance are understood and employed in this book. Each of these ideas will be unpacked in turn. As stated above, a central purpose of this book is to re-examine the use of these terms. In particular, I argue there is mutual benefit in bridging youth studies and violence studies to enable the re-examination of contemporary youth violence. For example, as alluded to earlier in reference to Zizek’s ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ violence, I employ violence to describe a social phenomenon beyond traditional associations with physical force. Violence, Walby argues, needs to be understood as a ‘distinctive phenomenon, as a non-reducible form of power, a form of practice, a set of social institutions, with its own rhythm, dynamics and practices’ (Walby, 2013, p. 96). This approach to violence necessitates a re-examination of the connection between violence, power and government by historical social theorists including Marx, Weber, Arendt and Foucault. Furthermore, this approach facilitates a review of the interaction and distinction between violence and power within youth studies. My approach to violence, youth and neoliberal governance will be fully unpacked in Chaps. 2, 3 and 6 respectively. Temporarily deferring this information facilitates prioritising in this introduction, firstly, the research participants and their stories, and secondly, an overview of the questions that drive this book. The intent here is to be thorough in detail but to first prioritise the stories and voices of young people while acknowledging the assumptions and risks that come with researching youth and violence.

1.1 Introducing the Participants: A Few Stories An important aim of this book is to elevate and prioritise young people’s perspectives. I do this by beginning this book with young people’s stories. Furthermore, rather than separating the data from the analysis, participant’s voices are weaved throughout the narrative. As described above, the young people whose stories are in this book were recruited according to their alignment with one or more of the categories mentioned above: child protection, juvenile justice and political activism. They are 15–25 years of age. The majority of them live in South Australia, with a small number of them from other Australian states including New South Wales, Queensland and Victoria. Details about the participants’ demographics and the recruitment process are available in Appendix A. In Chap. 7, I examine in detail the epistemological implications of studying youth violence and the rationale underpinning my approach. In Chap. 8, I present my argument regarding the methodological consequences of my approach to studying youth violence. I intentionally omit this information at this stage, instead choosing to begin by briefly focussing on some of the participants’ stories. All the young people in this book have been given pseudonyms to maintain their anonymity.

1.1 Introducing the Participants: A Few Stories

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1.1.1 Screaming Matches with Mum Jackson is in the Child Protection system. He has been removed by the state from the care of his parents, though he still occasionally visits them. Jackson is living in a government-funded group accommodation service with other young people of a similar age and also under the Guardianship of the Minister.1 Jackson tells me about his experience of living in and moving between residential care services. As he describes it, violence between residents is a consistent feature and often results in him moving from one accommodation service to another. Jackson describes himself mostly as a victim of violence in these homes. He also talks about the strategies he uses to manage and respond to violence. He describes his strategy of verbally antagonising other residents through insulting questions and observations. Jackson demonstrates the technique during the interview by drawing attention to aspects of my appearance that he found peculiar. Jackson also describes stifling his desire to fight back and the consequences of this strategy: Jackson: I just get really angry and I unleash it when someone pisses me off … Cos it’s easy, no one gets angry at you that way … So, you take it out on other things, and you don’t end up hurting anyone you care about … But I somehow still do … I have screaming matches with my mum.

Jackson’s stories contain contradictions and attempts to solve his problems without violence. He also acknowledges that these attempts often fail. Jackson demonstrates a degree of self-awareness and reflexivity about his violence, while at the same time seeming to habitually continue to utilise the same strategies. Jackson’s interview takes place when he would usually be participating in a life-skills program. During the interview Jackson tells me that he is only participating to get out of doing the life-skills program. He shares many personal and significant stories from his life, while at the same time routinely sabotaging the interview and making jokes about my appearance. The interview with Jackson is rich with detail on several levels, which are explored in this book. His interview prompts insights into the research methodology and approach, as well as the relationship between violence and intimacy.

1.1.2 Rolling People for Money Despite describing her parents as being ‘pretty wealthy’, Mia says she used to ‘go out and roll people for their money’. Mia tells stories about her early interactions with the justice system. She talks about receiving bail and suspended sentences on multiple occasions, before eventually spending four-months in juvenile detention. Her stories of detention were mixed and complex. She describes undertaking a ‘Diploma in 1 Guardianship of the Minister is the term for young people in state care in South Australia. Previously

these young people have been referred to as ‘wards of the state’. Many of these young people adopt the title or are colloquially referred to by human service workers as ‘GOM kids’.

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Hospitality’ during incarceration and says that the staff helped her realise that it ‘isn’t the place I want to be for the rest of my life’. However, Mia’s stories also include bullying and fighting in detention. She tells the following story about her first night and her decision to stand up for herself and a friend. Mia: And she had the whole, all of the girls picking on her. Every single girl picking on her because, I don’t know, she just kept to herself. She didn’t do anything, and the girls didn’t know who she was, what she was like or anything. And so, they just started telling stories. And as soon as I got in there, and I went to her they just started telling stories about me. So, I didn’t like that, so I went up to them all, all twelve of them, went up to them and was just ‘which one of youse want to fight?’ You know? And out of all of them not one of them stepped up. So ever since then the girls would never run me down in there but.

Mia goes on to tell a story of ‘bash[ing] this girl on the inside’ at the request of a friend on the outside. Violence and bullying were a regular feature of her experience of detention, because, as she explains it, there was ‘nothing else to do’. In a similar way to Jackson, Mia’s stories are filled with contradiction and messy justification for her and other’s actions. Her stories include explanations for violence and crime that are linked to social media, boredom and loyalty. At the same time Mia shares insightful thoughts about the kind of housing and financial support that could prevent young people like her from ending up in detention. Her reflections parallel other participants’ stories who similarly identified connections between structural inequalities and violence.

1.1.3 Masculine Domination and Democracy Hailey has been involved in non-violent, anti-war protest over several years. However, even as she actively opposes violence, it remains for her a difficult problem to resolve. Hailey is articulate in her ability to identify and define violence. These descriptions often include structural dimensions and the dynamics of power. For example, she describes violence like power or force ‘over other people’. In contrast, she sees nonviolence as a form of ‘shared power’, as ‘empowering other people’ through ‘community and I think love is a power as well’. Hailey also shares her experience of decision-making processes within the activist group. Hailey: Yeah, I have really loved how this group makes decisions and it is mostly based on consensus. Otherwise democratic voting. And I think it has been a key part because it has given everybody a voice. Um, and even though it can seem like a really small thing, but in other circles often most voices are left unheard and that can in a way be seen as violent because people are dominating and often, um, you know, in some settings there is often male dominance just because that is how we have kind of grown up in our society.

Hailey’s story reflects a form of violence described by Bourdieu: Symbolic violence. More accurately she is describing resistance to symbolic violence and the enactment of alternative reality. Mia, Jackson and Hailey’s stories contain both dominant and counter-narratives to the prevailing discourse of young people as violent. Both Jackson’s and Mia’s stories, in particular, can reinforce the notion that youth is

1.1 Introducing the Participants: A Few Stories

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a period of ‘storm and stress’ (Hall, 1904, p. 73) through which young people learn to become less violent. An alternative reading of their stories identifies systems of violence that each are subjected to, which attempt to crush and conform them into violent performativities. Some attempts to conform these young people appear to be more successful than others.

1.2 Research Questions Together these stories begin to reveal the central questions that drive this book. This book aims to challenge the dominant association between youth and violence. However, I do not deny that young people are at times violent. Instead, I am interested in how young people become violent and how they resist becoming violent. For this purpose, I pose the following questions: What forms of (subjective and objective) violence shape and constrain the contemporary experience of youth? How do young people enact violent performativities? How do young people resist violent performativities? There are several assumptions that are important to identify within these questions. In his 1967 paper, Becker poses a question to his academic peers working on the sociology of deviance: ‘whose side are we on?’ In doing this, he is staking a claim that his research, and by extension all research, is not politically neutral. Rather, as Strega (2005) argues, all research is political. Law and Urry (2004) suggest that academics need to locate themselves politically or else risk ‘wrongly collude[ing] in the enactment of dominant realities’ (p. 399). With this in mind, the first important assumption is that I don’t assume young people are inherently violent. Neither, am I claiming they are inherently non-violent. However, I suggest that violent behaviour (originally there or not) contains an element of learning or becoming. The connections between this approach and the seemingly inescapable notion of youth as becoming and transition (Kelly, 2011, p. 48) in unpacked in Chap. 3. I also start with the assumption that violence is a ‘singularly negative phenomenon’ (Kilby & Ray, 2014, p. 2). It can be argued that violence can produce good outcomes. However, this investigation begins with the assumption that violence in any form is unavoidably harmful. How and what it harms is explored in Chap. 2. To counter the popular discourse of youth violence, youth sociologists have for decades defended the idea that young people are ‘not systematically law-breakers or particularly violent individuals’ (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 52). In spite of this the dominant discourse connecting youth and violence persists. In early 2018 the Federal Australian Government accused the Victorian State Government of letting ‘African gang crime’ get out of control after a ‘series of recent headline-grabbing crimes’ including property damage and a ‘night of violence involving dozens of youths’ (Ryan & Stayner, 2018). Violence and bullying in schools continue to be an issue of ‘major concern’ (ABC Radio Adelaide, 2018). Two separate stabbing incidents in

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late 2018 led to the labelling of South Australian schools as ‘lagging behind other states’ for using ‘approaches which are not evidence-based’ (ABC Radio Adelaide, 2018). Australian crime statistics likewise paint a picture of a close association between young people and violence in Australia. In 2013 & 2014, 18% of the homicides committed by men in Australia were by individuals aged 18–24 years, and 24% committed by females were by individuals aged 18–24 years (Crime Statistics Australia, 2019a). Young people 15–24 years of age are the largest group of victims of physical assault (25.4%) in 2016–2017 (Crime Statistics Australia, 2019b) and young women 15–19 years of age were the largest groups of victims to sexual assault (27%) in Australia in 2017 (Crime Statistics Australia, 2019c). According to the World Health Organisation (WHO): ‘Youth Violence is the 4th leading cause of death in young people worldwide’ (emphasis added) (World Health Organisation, 2015, p. 1). Without context, these statistics portray youth as a uniquely violent period. An alternative perspective on the WHO ‘Youth Violence’ statistics is presented by the Youth Envoy of the UN’s Office of the Secretary-General: ‘Homicide is the fourth leading cause of death in people aged 10–29 years’ (emphasis added) (2015), which amounts to ‘43% of the total number of homicides globally each year’ (Office for the Secretary-General’s Envoy on Youth, 2015). This second presentation of the same data implies that young people globally are asymmetrically the victims of violence, rather than perpetrators. Furthermore, the definition of youth (10–29 years) used here, and in the WHO perspective presented above, means it is questionable to what extent these figures represent youth violence. Furthermore, the largest proportion of victims and perpetrators of homicide in Australia for 2013–2014 were people aged 35–49 years of age (Crime Statistics Australia, 2019a). The WHO published the 2014 Global Status Report on Violence Prevention from data gathered in 2012, which found the primary group bearing the brunt of lethal violence is young men 15–29 years of age (18.2 deaths per 100 000 people) (World Health Organisation, 2014, p. 9). Furthermore, ‘women and girls, children and elderly people disproportionately bear the burden of the non-fatal consequences of physical, sexual and psychological abuse, and neglect, worldwide’ (World Health Organisation, 2014, p. 9). An estimated one in five girls have been sexually abused before reaching adulthood (some estimates are as high as one in three), and ‘nearly a quarter of adults (22.6%) worldwide suffered physical abuse as a child’ (World Health Organisation, 2014, p. 10). In addition to being intolerable, these statistics paint a picture of violence and young people that is messy and complex. The apparent correlation between young people, youth and violence in these statistics at a minimum indicate a global issue that needs further study. Youth sociologists have contested the notion that young people are disproportionately responsible for violence by providing context, challenging the validity of the data or providing alternative data (Bacchi, 2009, p. 58; Cuervo & Wyn, 2016; Kumsa, Ng, Chambon, Maiter, & Yan, 2013, p. 848; Lombard, 2013, p. 1140; Sercombe, 2003, p. 26; Swartz & Scott, 2013, p. 325). Contesting the uncritical presentation of young people as ‘animalistic

1.2 Research Questions

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and uncontrollable’ (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19) is important. However, stopping at this point falls victim to the lure of violence described by Zizek. But we should learn to step back, to disentangle ourselves from the fascinating lure of this directly visible subjective violence, violence performed by a clearly identifiable agent… A step back enables us to identify a violence that sustains our very efforts to fight violence and promote tolerance. (Zizek, 2008, p. 1)

In this book I set out to examine the violence that is not performed by a visible agent and that sustains, justifies and legitimises the violence done to young people and the violence done by young people. To begin to untangle this local and global issue of association between youth and violence requires a step back to examine the hinterland of ideas that underpin the discourses of youth and violence. To understand the violence that young people are subjected to requires initially resisting the desire to immediately counter data describing young people as violent. This approach considers how young people come to embody violent performativities and how they resist them.

1.3 Structure of the Book Chapters 2 and 3 are exceptions to the rule of weaving young people’s stories throughout my argument. These chapters take the aforementioned step back from the immediate concern with young people’s contemporary experiences of violence to build a theoretical foundation for a bridge between youth studies and violence studies. This necessary step away from prioritising young people’ stories is essential for engaging with their experience in later chapters and for establishing the foundations for the future study of youth violence. In Chaps. 2 and 3, I challenge the traditional association of youth with violence by deconstructing the dominant understandings of ‘youth’ and ‘violence’. Chapter 2 examines the nature of violence emphasising the need to overcome the historical theoretical conflation of violence with the operations of power. I do this by examining the subjects and objects of violence. I offer an adaption of Wieviorka’s (2014) subjective positions of violence and draw a connection to the recent interest within youth studies in understanding the lived-subjective positions (Farrugia, 2016; Henriksen & Bengtsson, 2018; Watson, 2018) available to young people. This work draws from Butler (2011) in particular, but also, as I will unpack in Chap. 3, recent debates about ‘choice biographies’ (Farrugia, 2013; Threadgold, 2011; Woodman, 2009; Woodman & Threadgold, 2014) within youth studies and a connection to Bourdieu’s (2001) Symbolic Violence. Within these two chapters, I construct a new theoretical framework and contribute to the emerging theoretical tools for the sociological study of youth and violence. Building on this theoretical foundation, in Chap. 4 I dive into young people’s stories. Inverting the dominant narrative of youth violence that positions young people as a uniquely violent group, I develop the argument that youth is a period

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of intense subjection to structural, cultural and symbolic violence that produce violent performativities. I amplify the rich, situated stories of young people to reveal the crushing influence of non-physical violence and the process of conforming to sanctioned forms of violence during youth. It is important to acknowledge that my conclusions in Chap. 4 potentially contribute to a deficit model of youth. This outcome is the result of (temporarily) overlooking the potential for resistance to violence. In Chap. 5 I correct this oversight, providing an essential reorientation towards a hopeful and optimistic notion of young people and resistance to violence. These young people contest the dominant mythology of violence in Western society. During the earlier chapters of this book, I defer unpacking in-depth the neoliberal nature of objective systems of violence in contemporary society. Chapter 7 unpacks this aspect in detail by examining the violating effects of neoliberal governance and marketisation on youth services and practice. This chapter focusses on an example of the merging of violence and governance as well as the effects of Giroux’s (2014) description of the disinvestment in public intuitions that sustain the conditions for democracy. This chapter builds on participants’ critique of the principles of ‘fair process’ (Kim & Mauborgne, 2003) utilised by some youth services to facilitate young people’s participation in decision-making processes. Fair Process has been adopted by some into Restorative Justice practices. Restorative Justice is a governing practice that responds to the violation caused by crime and wrongdoing. It is a process which governs violence and is often implemented by marketised government-funded non-government youth service providers. The young people in this book ‘call bullshit’ on these principles as a democratic participatory decision-making process. In response to hearing the principles of ‘Fair Process’, the participants told stories of unfair processes, thereby revealing the contradiction between their lives and liberal-paternalist social policy. In Chap. 7, I argue that participants’ responses are unsurprising. However, these seemingly predictable responses raise further concerns regarding the adoption of these principles and a connection to the hollowing out of the welfare state and neoliberal violence. A central purpose of this book is the development of a new approach to studying youth violence. This approach has implications for the epistemological framing of research on youth violence, but also the methodological practices of youth research. Chapter 7 and 8 respectively unpack some of the ongoing problems and issues that come with studying youth and explores the added complexity that results from the approach to violence advocated for in this book. Chapter 7 considers the potential for epistemological violence in youth studies, and Chap. 8 proposes a framework to continue to challenge the problems of adult centricity in youth research. The book concludes (Chap. 9) by revisiting the major themes through a Freirean lens. Leonard and McLaren (1992) argue that young people’s stories are a ‘guidepost for liberating praxis’ (p. 72), and it is through deep listening to their stories that space can be created for solidarity and critical thinking. This approach facilitates a critical examination of the potential for future research in this new landscape, and the implications for policy and practice.

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1.4 First and Last Word My central argument in this book is that young people are enacting and resisting violent neoliberal performativities as a result of subjection to an array of crushing subjective and objective (personal, physical, cultural, structural, symbolic and neoliberal) violence. I construct a theoretical hinterland at the nexus of youth studies and violence studies borrowing from and re-examining an assemblage of theories of power to analyse the stories of young people whose lives are intensely subjected to the merging of violence and government. I argue that bridging the fields of youth studies and violence studies produces mutual benefit for understanding the contemporary phenomenon of violence in youth and to challenge the popular association between youth and violence. Young people are violent, however, in this book I am interested in how they become violent and how they come to enact and resist violent performativities. Youth has a long association with violence. In this book I argue that youth might best be described as intense subjection to violence rather than simply young people being uniquely and inherently violent. The production of youth as a period of subjective violence is made visible by examining the background systems of objective violence. Furthermore, the subjugation of young people via the dominant and violating discourses of youth is itself violence. Youth can therefore be understood as a product of violence. Violence is a pervasive and crushing phenomenon, however, young people are also rejecting violent performativities and seeking to embody alternatives.

References ABC Radio Adelaide. (2018, 2 August). SA ‘lagging behind’ other states as student violence escalates, high-profile psychologist says. ABC News. Retrieved from https://www.abc.net.au/news/ 2018-08-02/school-stabbings-need-evidence-based-response-psychologist-says/10065810. Bacchi, C. (2009). Analysing Policy: What’s the Problem Represented to Be?. Frenchs Forrest, NSW: Pearson. Bourdieu, P. (2001). Masculine Domination. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Butler, J. (1999). Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge. Butler, J. (2011). Bodies That Matter. New York: Routledge Classics. Crime Statistics Australia. (2019a). Victims and Offenders, 2009–10 to 2013–14. Canberra, Australian Capital Territory: Australian Government. Retrieved from http://crimestats.aic.gov. au/NHMP/2_victims-offenders/. Crime Statistics Australia. (2019b). Victims of Physical Assault by Age. Canberra, Australian Capital Territory: Australian Government. Retrieved from http://crimestats.aic.gov.au/facts_figures/1_v ictims/C2/. Crime Statistics Australia. (2019c). Young and Adult Offenders by Sex and Principal Offence. Canberra, Australian Capital Territory: Australian Government. Retrieved from http://crimestats. aic.gov.au/facts_figures/2_offenders/B2/. Cuervo, H., & Wyn, J. (2016). An unspoken crisis: the ‘scarring effects’ of the complex nexus between education and work on two generations of young Australians. International Journal of Lifelong Education, 35(2), 122–135. https://doi.org/10.1080/02601370.2016.1164467.

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Farrugia, D. (2013). Young people and structural inequality: beyond the middle ground. Journal of Youth Studies, 16(5), 679–693. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2012.744817. Farrugia, D. (2016). Youth Homelessness in Late Modernity: Reflexive Identities and Moral Worth (Vol. 1). Singapore: Springer. Giroux, H. A. (2014). Resisting Youth and the Crushing State Violence of Neoliberalism. In A. Kamp & P. Kelly (Eds.), A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century (pp. 223–239). Boston: Brill. Hall, G. S. (1904). Adolescence: Its Psychology and its relations to Physiology, Anthropology, Sociology, Sex, Crime, Religion and Education (Vol. II). New York: D. Appleton and Company. Henriksen, A.-K., & Bengtsson, T. T. (2018). Trivializing violence: Marginalized youth narrating everyday violence. Theoretical Criminology, 22(1), 99–115. https://doi.org/10.1177/136248061 6671995. Kelly, P. (2003). Growing up as risky business? Risks, surveillance and the institutionalized mistrust of youth. Journal of Youth Studies, 6(2), 165–180. https://doi.org/10.1080/136762603200011 0291. Kelly, P. (2011). An untimely future for youth studies? Youth Studies Australia, 30(3), 47. Kelly, P., & Kamp, A. (Eds.). (2014). A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century. Boston: Brill. Kilby, J., & Ray, L. (2014). Introduction. The Sociological Review, 62(2_suppl), 1–12. https://doi. org/10.1111/1467-954x.12188. Kim, W. C., & Mauborgne, R. (2003). Fair process: Managing in the knowledge economy. Harvard Business Review, 81(1), 1–12. Retrieved from http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA 97467181&v=2.1&u=flinders&it=r&p=EAIM&sw=w&asid=86835ed16071c6867d4fa030637 bfdad. Kumsa, M. K., Ng, K., Chambon, A., Maiter, S., & Yan, M. C. (2013). Rethinking youth violence and healing. Journal of Youth Studies, 16(7), 847–863. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2013. 763919. Law, J., & Urry, J. (2004). Enacting the social. Economy and Society, 33(3), 390–410. https://doi. org/10.1080/0308514042000225716. Leonard, P., & McLaren, P. (1992). Decentering Pedagogy: Critical literacy, resistance and the politics of memory. In P. Leonard & P. McLaren (Eds.), Paulo Freire A Critical Encounter. London: Routledge. Lombard, N. (2013). Young people’s temporal and spatial accounts of gendered violence. Sociology, 47(6), 1136–1151. https://doi.org/10.1177/0038038512458734. Office for the Secretary-General’s Envoy on Youth. (2015). Youth violence is a global public health problem-WHO. Retrieved from http://www.un.org/youthenvoy/2015/12/youth-violence-is-a-glo bal-public-health-problem-who/. Ryan, B., & Stayner, G. (2018, January 2). African gangs in Melbourne are a problem, police admit, as Victorian Government defends strategy. ABC News. Retrieved from http://www.abc. net.au/news/2018-01-02/street-gangs-are-a-problem-in-melbourne-police-admit/9297984. Sercombe, H. (2003). Reflections on youth violence. Youth Studies Australia, 22(1), 25–30. Strega, S. (2005). The view from the poststructural margins. In L. A. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as Resistance (pp. 199–235). Toronto: Canadian Scholars Press. Swartz, S., & Scott, D. (2013). The rules of violence: a perspective from youth living in South African townships. Journal of Youth Studies, 17(3), 324–342. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261. 2013.815699. Threadgold, S. (2011). Should I pitch my tent in the middle ground? On ‘middling tendency’, Beck and inequality in youth sociology. Journal of Youth Studies, 14(4), 381–393. https://doi.org/10. 1080/13676261.2010.538042. Wacquant, L. (2001). The penalisation of poverty and the rise of neo-liberalism. European Journal on Criminal Policy and Research, 9(4), 401–412. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1013147404519. Walby, S. (2013). Finance versus democracy? Theorizing finance in society. Work, Employment & Society, 27(3), 489–507. https://doi.org/10.1177/0950017013479741.

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Watson, J. (2018). Youth Homelessness and Survival Sex: Intimate Relationships and Gendered Subjectivities. New York: Routledge. White, R., & Wyn, J. (2011). Youth and Society: Exploring the social dynamics of youth experience (2nd ed.). South Melbourne, Victoria: Oxford University Press. Wieviorka, M. (2014). The sociological analysis of violence: new perspectives. The Sociological Review, 62(S2), 50–64. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-954X.12191. Woodman, D. (2009). The mysterious case of the pervasive choice biography: Ulrich Beck, structure/agency, and the middling state of theory in the sociology of youth. Journal of Youth Studies, 12(3), 243–256. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260902807227. Woodman, D., & Threadgold, S. (2014). Critical Youth Studies in an Individualized and Globalized World: Making the Most of Bourdieu and Beck. A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century (pp. 552–566). Brill: Leiden, Boston. World Health Organisation. (2014). Global Status Report on Violence Prevention. Luxembourg: World Health Organisation. Retrieved from www.who.int/violence_injury_prevention/violence/ status_report/2014. World Health Organisation. (2015). Youth Violence. World Health Organisation. Retrieved from http://www.who.int/violence_injury_prevention/violence/youth-violence-infographic-2015. pdf?ua=1. Wyn, J., & White, R. (1997). Rethinking Youth. London: SAGE. Zizek, S. (2008). Violence: Six Sideways Reflections. London, UK: Profile Books LTD.

Chapter 2

The Subjects and Objects of Violence

Violence is not a new phenomenon. It has captured the attention of researchers in a variety of fields. In sociology, violence attracted interest as early as Durkheim’s (2002) 1897 investigation of suicide and Weber’s 1919 assertion on the state’s monopoly on violence. Today violence is an object of research in diverse fields including peace and security studies, gender studies, criminology and social policy studies. The Global Peace Index, created by the Institute for Economics and Peace, is dedicated to measuring world peace across 23 qualitative and quantitative indicators regarding ‘the absence of violence or fear of violence’ (Institute for Economics & Peace, 2019, p. 85). These indicators include the number and duration of internal conflicts, the level of perceived criminality in society, the number of homicides per 100,000 people, the level of violent crime, the ease of access to small arms and light weapons, as well as military expenditure as a percentage of GDP. The Index found that while there was an increase in overall peacefulness in 2019, the global level of peacefulness was still lower than ten years ago (p. 2). Violence continues to be a major global issue. The sociology of violence is experiencing a recent resurgence. New frameworks are emerging in the attempt to study the social meaning and form of violence as a unique and distinct phenomenon, including scholars such as Walby (2013), Wieviorka (2005), Zizek (2008) as well as Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018). These new approaches adopt diverse definitions and parameters of violence, each presenting new perspectives, but also problems. Violence is a slippery idea, which quickly changes shape and meaning (Henriksen & Bengtsson, 2018; von Holdt, 2013). This chapter provides a brief overview of this emerging field, however, rather than a literature review, I outline some of the central issues and theories to contribute a new framework that fills a gap in the field. I argue that a broad definition of violence that acknowledges the unique structural and cultural dynamics make visible the production of lived-subjectivities of violence which young people perform and resist. To

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arrive at this conclusion requires the careful construction of an assemblage of theories of violence within an already messy and complex field. One of the unifying themes of the diverse approaches within the field is the tendency for scholars to select an understanding of violence that makes visible an aspect or experience of their chosen cohort that has otherwise remained hidden. Rather than conceptualising this messy and selective approach to violence as a manipulation or a lack of coherence, I adopt Law’s (2004) understanding of the operations of knowledge practices within divisions of scientific knowledge. He uses the term ‘hinterland’ to describe the cumulative knowledge within an academic discipline that underpins and defines the logic and ways of knowing within that discipline (Law, 2004, p. 27). Hinterlands make certain realities ‘thinkable’ or ‘possible’ and others less ‘thinkable’ or ‘possible’ (Law, 2004, p. 34). Furthermore, knowledge is built in this mass of discipline history and as such knowledge has an allegorical nature. Allegory, he asserts, is the ‘art of meaning something other and more than what is being said’ (Law, 2004, p. 88). Law makes the argument that the process of undertaking detailed analysis and research of a particular phenomenon results in the inevitable exclusion of a range of other contextual factors. He suggests that perhaps this is a requirement of making things ‘present’; i.e. detailed observation and analysis (Law, 2004, p. 85). As a consequence of detailed observation of one thing, other things are made ‘absent’ (Law, 2004, p. 85). Hence, choosing an approach to violence that makes one form more visible will inevitably make other forms less visible. In light of this approach, which Law calls a ‘method assemblage’ (2004, p. 15), I construct in this chapter a guide to the hinterland of contemporary sociology of violence. It is not intended to be a complete survey. This is a task that has been attempted by others including DeKeseredy, Rennison, and Hall-Sanchez (2018) as well as Maleševi´c (2010, 2017). Instead, like a good guidebook, this chapter provides key pieces of information about the location being explored, but the information and exploration is often also a means for further discovery. However, these points of reference that I highlight are chosen to make the forms of violence that affect young people more present and visible. Young people are the cohort which shapes the way I approach violence. Furthermore, I bring together some of the existing points of reference to create a new one that offers an allegorical framework for the exploration of a landscape at the nexus of the sociology of violence and youth studies. I begin this chapter by outlining the need to develop approaches to violence that distinguish between violence and other operations of power. Building on this, I provide an overview of the two major approaches and definitions of violence within the field and their respective strengths and weaknesses. In light of these frameworks, I examine the usefulness of recent scholarship that attempts to wrestle with the subjects and objects of violence focussing in particular on the work of Bourdieu, Galtung and Wieviorka. Finally, drawing on the strengths of these approaches I propose a framework to conceptualise violence that makes visible the subjective and objective violence done to young people, as well as the violent performative subjectivities enacted and resisted by young people.

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2.1 Power and Violence Walby (2013) describes the sociology of violence as an emerging field with the potential to offer an interconnected conceptualisation of violence and society. Furthermore, Walby, Towers, and Francis (2014, p. 209) argue there is a need to make violence more visible and demonstrate its ‘distinctiveness and non-reducibility to other social forces’ (Walby, 2013, p. 106). Walby acknowledges the substantial study of violence in other fields including: ‘criminology, peace studies, security studies, political science, war studies, international relations, gender studies, gender violence (an emerging specialism and field of its own, with its own journals) and social policy’ (p. 105). To complement this existing knowledge, a sociology of violence would offer a unique contribution by challenging the ‘traditional divisions between interpersonal and inter-state violence’ (p. 105). The sociology of violence, inspired by Mills’ (1970) ‘Sociological Imagination’, seeks to reveal the connection between the ‘personal troubles’ of interpersonal violence and the ‘public issues’ of war, but also the connection between micro experiences of violation and the macro social structures that might contain or enable violence. A sociology of violence would consider the macro and micro dynamics as a connected whole, where one influences the other. Furthermore, through this lens violence is present in the ‘economy, state and civil society’ (Walby, 2013, p. 105), as well as in physical force and global conflict. However, it is not contained to any one of these forms. As mentioned above, violence is not a new phenomenon of study in sociology. Durkheim studied suicide in 1897. Weber (1946) argues that the state held the monopoly on violence. Marx’s work contains concern for the potential and necessity of revolutionary violence (Marx & Engels, 2014). Arendt’s (1972) theorising ‘On Violence’ is an important voice in the discussion of the relation between power and violence. Foucault (1979) observes the transformation of torture to discipline. However, it is increasingly being recognised that the approaches of these foundational thinkers are insufficient to conceptualise the complexity of violence in contemporary society (von Holdt, 2014; Walby et al., 2014). The central critique for many of these approaches is their narrow focus on violence as a physical force and the conflation of power and violence (Walby, 2013). For example, Hearn (2013) argues that intimate personal violence, such as domestic violence, has been overlooked by a focus on ‘institutional, collective and revolutionary violence’ (p. 154). Arendt’s (1972) work continues to be influential. However, she is at times unclear regarding her distinction between (or conflation of) power and violence and as a result there are conflicting interpretations (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 199; Grinberg, 2013, p. 208). Furthermore, Foucault’s (1979) thesis that violence declines as civilisation increases is another example of the reduction of violence to a form of power. His thesis holds only if violence is conceptualised as a physical phenomenon that excludes violation produced through social structures and inequalities. In a similar way, Weber’s assertions on violence struggle to make sense of the complexity of a globalised world. Weber’s contention that the state has a monopolisation on violence focuses on the right and the capacity for the state to wage war,

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and the connected claim that democracies are less likely to go to war with each other (Walby, 2013, p. 98). However, this democratic peace hypothesis no longer holds in the contemporary quagmire of international relations (Galtung & Scott, 2008, p. 46). In contrast to these traditional approaches, the emerging sociology of violence considers violence to be a unique and complex phenomenon ‘with its own rhythms, dynamics and practices’ (Walby, 2013, p. 98). Most importantly, the sociology of violence emphasises that violence is not equivalent to other forms of power. Violence has its own micro and macro dynamics which form patterns across society. In equating power with violence (and vice-a-versa), founding sociological theorists have overlooked many personal experiences and systemic manifestations of violation. Their theories are insufficient to handle the complexity of modernity, and as I will argue later, particularly in the contemporary phenomenon of youth.

2.2 Two Approaches It is the task of the sociology of violence to do what perhaps Zizek (2008) describes best, to ‘step back’ and refrain from the temptation to focus on the obvious physical violence and instead examine the ‘violence that sustains our very efforts to fight violence and promote tolerance’ (p. 1). Zizek identifies two broad categories of violence at the beginning of his book. The first is ‘subjective’ violence. He defines subjective violence as the most visible form of violence as it is enacted by a recognisable agent and operates against an assumed background (societal norm) of nonviolence.1 In other words, this violence is most visible because it is assumed to be an individual deviation from normal behaviour in a peaceful society. In contrast, Zizek describes the much less visible ‘objective’ violence that operates within the assumed normal and peaceful society. He argues that this kind of violence can be broken down into two further types: (1) ‘symbolic’ violence in language and communication, as well as (2) ‘systemic’ violence, which he describes as the ‘often catastrophic consequences of the smooth functioning of our economic and political systems’ (p. 1). For Zizek, the two forms of violence are connected. Subjective violence is the visible eruption of the subterranean objective violence. From here Zizek’s book diverges widely into what he titles ‘six sideways reflections’ on violence. Rather than systematically developing the criteria for these categories of violence (subjective and objective), Zizek takes the reader on a rhetorical journey through the many and varied contradictions and complexities in contemporary expressions and responses to violence. Zizek’s categories of violence may not be thoroughly refined, however, they are reflective of two broad schools of thought within the literature on violence. In this sense, they are a suitable starting point but require greater definition to be useful for 1 ‘Non-violence’

is used here to describe the assumed absence of violence or the assumption that violence is not a normal/acceptable part of society. Not to be confused with ‘nonviolence’, the deliberate attempt to avoid using violence.

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a robust interconnected sociology of violence. Bufacchi (2005) offers a summary of the existing literature around the definition of violence that mirrors Zizek’s two categories. The first school of thought contains scholars who wish to preserve a narrow definition of violence (i.e. Zizek’s subjective violence). The second school wish to advance an expanded definition (i.e. objective violence). There are, as usual, arguments for and against both positions. However, to approach the debate by simply assessing the logical consistency of two dualistically opposing epistemologies is likely to result in some form of ideological trench war. Instead, I suggest that it is useful to begin by acknowledging that the positions are largely held because each approach offers the ability to make some forms of violence more or less visible.

2.2.1 Passionate Force A narrow definition of violence is desirable for some because of its distinct and forceful character. The argument within this school is built on the Latin etymology of violence in ‘violentia’, translated as ‘vehemence’: ‘a passionate and uncontrolled force’ (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 194). Keeping the definition of violence narrow ensures that it retains its character as a unique and abhorrent phenomenon. Walby et al. (2014) argue that the attempt to broaden the scope of enquiry through conceptualising violence in objective forms devalues the ‘specificity and potential for distinctive explanatory power of the concept of violence’ (p. 190). Furthermore, they argue that by taking the broader approach social theorists like Zizek and Bourdieu marginalise interpersonal and gendered violence in their pursuit of the abstract. Finally, they argue that broader categories risk violence becoming ‘no more than other forms of symbolic power’ (p. 190). The narrow approach to violence, however, is not as straightforward as it seems. To begin with, not all acts of force are commonly considered to be violence. For example, rescuing someone from the path of an oncoming bus by pushing (force) them out of the way is not violent even though the fall might inadvertently result in personal harm (a scraped knee or broken bone). The force must cause physical harm, but also the harm must be intentional (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 195). This approach attempts to exclude activities such as surgery. However, the proposition of intentionality in the definition of violence has the potential to exclude a large range of physical, harmful and forceful acts; for example, the unintended victims of gun violence and explosives. Moreover, activities like surgery, or war, do intentionally cause harm. However, these harms are justified on the grounds that not acting would do greater harm (i.e. the lesser of two evils). This harm is slightly different (and perhaps more foreseeable) to the accidental harm of rescuing someone from the path of an oncoming bus. Further complicating matters, Bufacchi (2005) points out that force as an idea implies potential action, whereas violence is commonly understood as an action that has already been done (p. 196). Furthermore, violence has strong normative and moral associations. These implications are a vital part of the argument for a narrow definition. However, force

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as a defining feature of violence doesn’t carry these same moral imperatives. To attempt to solve some of these issues, other scholars embrace a broader definition of violence.

2.2.2 An Experience of Violation In contrast to the narrow approach, the broad school of thought associates violence with the Latin ‘violare’ (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 194). Violare is translated as ‘infringement’ (p. 194), thus broadening violence to the experience of violation. In addition to physical force, violation can be experienced as a result of structural and symbolic forces. An influential voice within this school of thought is Galtung (1969), who argues that such an approach provides the language to identify experiences of violation that are outside of a clear subject-object relationship (p. 171). Galtung defines, in specific terms, the individual and connected dynamics of ‘structural’ (1969) and ‘cultural’ (1990) violence. I return to these definitions in more detail in a moment. Galtung’s approach begins to bring clarity to Zizek’s broad objective violence category. In addition to the concerns raised earlier by Walby et al. (2014) about the potential conflation of violence and power in broad definitions, Bufacchi (2005) points out that the concept of violation begs at least one other major question. If violence is understood as violation (infringement), what is being violated? This approach requires the substance of the violation to include, but also be broader than, the body. As such, Bufacchi suggest the obvious answer might be the violation of human rights. However, this answer creates more problems than it solves. This definition expands the boundaries of violence and violation to an enormous array of things that could violate human rights, potentially making the word meaningless (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 197). In addition to the above two approaches to violence, Bufacchi offers considers the debate from another angle. Centralising force within the definition of violence focusses the meaning of violence on the perpetrator (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 199). If violence is force, then violence describes the actions (and agency) of the perpetrator. As a result, the study of violence amplifies the significance of the perpetrator’s agency. In contrast, conceiving violence in terms of violation amplifies the experience of the victim (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 199). Amplifying victim’s stories and experiences potentially reveal a wider array of invisible violence. Bufacchi also points out a gap in the literature regarding the potential for defining violence from the perspective of an observing third party. None of these approaches are without problems, and neither is Bufacchi’s third party consideration. As I discuss later in this book, even the categories of perpetrator and victim are not always discrete (e.g. self-harm). The last framing Bufacchi offers importantly reinforces the political dimension of studying violence. All social science research is political (Strega, 2005, p. 207), however, violence studies contains uniquely contentious political issues. Implicit in the above debate, and essential to both schools of thought, is the idea that violence is

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a ‘singularly negative phenomenon’ (Kilby & Ray, 2014, p. 2) and that the study of it should begin from this assumption. The beginning assumption is a significant political statement and positioning of the field. Furthermore, building on their argument noted earlier, Walby et al. (2014) contend that incorporating ‘marginal’ experiences of violence (that is to broaden violence to violation) ‘obscure[s] the extent of gender inequality found in the more severe acts’ (p. 196). They argue that these marginal forms of violence are ‘disproportionately perpetrated by women’ (p. 196) and hence including them in a broader definition of violence narrows the inequality of more severe violence between genders. This approach is underpinned by the desire to make the violence experienced by women more visible, and as such is inherently political. To be clear, I am not opposed to this aspiration, nor am I arguing for some sort if depoliticization of the field. I am arguing that this position on violence highlights the political nature of all study of violence. It is essential therefore to acknowledge the political position of our approaches, and the potential to exclude a diverse range of actors and victims.

2.3 Obscuring and Revealing Following this line of thinking that definitions of violence reveal or obscure the violation experienced by particular social groups, I argue that narrow definitions of violence unevenly position young people as perpetrators of violence and obscure their experiences of violation. Narrow definitions of violence emphasise the physicality of violence and young people are popularly associated with this kind of risky harmful act. However, youth is a period of intense governing and exposure to subjectifying discourses that I argue not only shape how young people become violent, but are in themselves a form of violence. There is a gap in the emerging sociology of violence where the voices and experiences of young people should be. Elevating young people’s experiences of violence through a broad definition reveals the violating nature of social structures and cultures that produce the subjectivities through which young people enact violence. Eriksson’s (2013) work on intimate partner violence policy in Sweden is a useful demonstration of the politics of the definitions of violence and also the gap in the literature surrounding violence and young people. Adopting the broader definition of violence, Eriksson notes the adult-centric nature of social policy, wherein children are primarily considered ‘objects of adult care’ (p. 173). Furthermore, she describes the failure to recognise exposure to domestic violence as child abuse (Eriksson, 2013, p. 172). She argues that a child or young person need not be the direct victim of physical violence to suffer consequences from it. The physical violence might be directed at a parent or older sibling, but the young person is still exposed to it. Significantly for youth studies, she connects the recognition of children and young people’s experiences of violation to two competing discourses about young people’s capacity. The first is the welfare discourse that positions the young person as a dependant and in need of protection and control. In contrast, the second libertarian discourse constructs

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the young person as a capable and creative moral agent (p. 181). The effect of these competing discourses is discussed in detail in the following chapter. The idea that active social agents (young people) can experience violence through exposure is a significant theoretical and political development for understanding the dynamics of violence generally as well as from a young person’s perspective. In addition to making young people’s experiences as victims of violence visible, a broader definition of violence has the potential to make visible their performative subjectivities as perpetrators of violence. Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) argue that ‘current theories about youth and violence are primarily concerned with the form and meaning of violence as dramatic events that play out among youths and inform social processes of identity and peer group formation’ (p. 100). In their examination of ‘trivialized violence’ they argue that violence needs to be understood as ‘the product of social processes wherein diverse forms of violence inform, transform, and minimize each other across social spaces’ (p. 100). The connection between the subjective violence done by young people and the objective violence done to young people is the central theme of this book. I return to the idea that the violence done by young people can be conceptualised as a performative subjectivity of violence later in this chapter, and in more detail in the following chapter. Sercombe (2003) provides a preliminary illustration of this dynamic arguing there is a connection between the common understanding of violence and class: ‘Poor people fight with their bodies. Rich people fight with their money, with lawsuits or hostile takeovers’ (p. 27). In other words, deprived of access to diverse forms of capital leaves the poor with only physical violence to affect change in the world. Furthermore, a narrow definition emphasising the use of physical force limits the notion of violence to the available means typically utilised by those (e.g. young people) with less access to capital. This approach obscures the socially acceptable means of violation available only to economic elites. A broader definition of violence has the potential to highlight experiences of violence to young people. This approach has the potential for a better understanding of the social forces that result in the violence done by young people. In this sense, it is useful for both revealing the systems and structures of objective violence, as well as better understanding the causes and effects of personal violence. It amplifies the experiences of both victim and perpetrator. However, this approach also risks running afoul of the critical issue that a sociology of violence is supposed to overcome: the conflation of violence and power. If subjective violence done by young people is a product of the objective violence done to them, then there is a risk of objective violence simply being understood as a form of power. If the distinction between objective violence and power can be maintained, or even better defined, then this approach contains the potential to re-examine the conflation of power and violence in youth studies. Both the broad and narrow definitions of violence contain problems of clarity and the effect of including or amplifying, as well as excusing or obscuring, some experiences of violence. Selecting one approach because it better serves the purposes of the researcher seems dubiously self-serving. In this context, the rationale for

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adopting one approach over the other and the articulation of the assumptions that come with it is a crucial task. Wrestling with this issue, Wieviorka poses the following question: If one approach sheds more light than another and offers better perspectives to those who intend to act on the ground to reduce violence or to enable a way out of violence is it not more acceptable? (Wieviorka, 2014, p. 62)

To avoid the traps of adopting self-serving definitions or parameters of violence each scholar needs to answer this question. However, at another level, this question is not simply answered and dispatched with. Rather, it is a question that has to be continually asked. Rather than a question to be resolved, it is a question to be enacted. Kilby and Ray (2014) argue that while the study of violence has an explicitly political orientation (i.e. violence is a morally negative phenomenon) it will likely ‘lead us into the dark’ (p. 2). They assert that to study violence will require developing ‘critical imagination and patience, sociologists will have to learn a tolerance for not knowing all the answers’ (Kilby & Ray, 2014, p. 2). The best perspective on violence is an issue that scholars will have to learn to have the patience for not knowing and not answering completely. The purpose of this book is to explore the complexity and contingency of young people’s experiences of violence. In doing so I challenge the dominant association between youth and violence, as well as constructing a new landscape at the nexus of youth studies and violence studies for future research. A broader conceptualisation of violence provides a more useful framework for revealing the breadth of violation experienced by young people, as well as young people’s enactment and resistance of violent performativities. Furthermore, it is my argument that this approach not only better informs the study of youth violence, but also better informs ‘those who intend to act on the ground to reduce violence’ (Wieviorka, 2014, p. 62) (i.e. youth policy and practice). This approach advocates that personal youth violence cannot be understood and prevented by only interrogating the effects of violent video games, schoolyard bullying or weapons regulation. Instead, there is a need to also interrogate social systems and cultural mythologies of objective violence that justify violating inequality and the alienation of young people. Conceiving of violence as violation provides further scope for achieving this goal than violence exclusively as force. Violence as violation offers some unique tools through which to explore the complexity around, and the connection between, violence done to young people and violence done by young people.

2.4 Possibilities and Problems: Bourdieu, Galtung and Wieviorka Several contemporary scholars are operating with both the narrow (subjective) and the broad definitions of violence (objective), and their work offers greater clarity and structure to this problematic space. While their approaches are not in themselves

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unproblematic, they help define and maintain the distinction in particular between objective violence and the operations of power. In this section, I provide a brief overview of their theories and associated issues. In the following section, I offer a new approach that builds on the strengths of Galtung and Wieviorka’s frameworks.

2.4.1 Structural and Cultural Violence As mentioned above, a central feature of the landscape of violence as violation is the work of Galtung. Galtung (1969) outlines the dynamics of ‘structural violence’ as distinct from physical violence. He argues, similar to Zizek, that structural violence is ‘built into the structure’ of society. However, in addition to erupting out as visible subjective violence, Galtung (1969) also argues that structural violence ‘shows up as unequal power and consequently as unequal life chances’ (p. 171). In his 1969 essay, Galtung aims to (re)define the arena of Peace Studies. To do so he first defines peace, which he reasons is ‘the absence of violence’ (p. 167). As a result of defining peace in these terms, he logically is also required to define violence. Violence, he argues, is ‘present when human beings are being influenced so that their actual somatic and mental realizations are below their potential realizations’ (p. 168). This highly expansive definition has received criticism, and in his paper, Galtung acknowledges that this definition could cause as many, or more, problems than it potentially solves (p. 168). However, the strength of this position is the language it provides to identify experiences of violation that are both within and outside of a clear subject-object relationship (Galtung, 1969, p. 171). Providing a definition that enables the consideration for both physical and nonphysical violence, Galtung continues by unpacking in detail the various dimensions of first physical violence and then structural violence. Physical violence, he argues, contains a model of action and a mode of influence, it contains positive and negative influences (action and inaction), as well as action on a subject or an object (with subsequent effects on subjects) (Galtung, 1969, p. 169). While this definition of physical violence suffers from some of the issues discussed earlier, it is Galtung’s subsequent turn to consider violence that isn’t carried out by a subject (i.e. violence without a clear actor) that is the most significant contribution. He describes the violence without a clear actor as structural violence. Structural violence produces harm to a subject without the direct action of an identifiable agent. Galtung (1969) describes structural violence primarily in terms of an unequal distribution of power and resources that results in the reduction of human potential through, for example, inadequate health care, poor access to education, or starvation through lack of food (p. 171). This approach acknowledges violence that occurs outside what Galtung calls the ‘subject-action-object relation’ (p. 171). It speaks to the collective and systemic dynamics of violence. Galtung illustrates his point through the example of domestic violence. In isolation, a single instance of domestic violence could be understood solely as physical violence. Domestic

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violence at this interpersonal level is often a passionate force from one actor to another that causes harm. Defined in this way, violence is confined to the act or force, which is separate from the dynamics of power and gender that are often infused within these events. However, examining domestic violence within a national or international context highlight patterns of social and economic inequality between genders and across classes. These patterns suggest something more than simply the presence of subjective violence, but rather a larger hidden structure of objective2 violence (p. 171). Galtung offers a detailed typology of violence. In doing so he provides a framework to examine violence in physical and non-physical forms that are enacted by subjects (or not) on subjects (directly and indirectly) that reduce their full potential. Galtung revisits these concepts later in 1990, building further on these tools to examine violence. He articulates a form of ‘cultural violence’ as the elements of a culture that ‘justify and legitimise’ physical and structural violence (Galtung, 1990, p. 291). He is careful at the outset to state that he is describing aspects of cultures, not entire cultures. Rather, cultural violence can be found in the language, logic, art or beliefs (e.g. religion) that make structural violence ‘look, even feel, right—or at least not wrong’ (Galtung, 1990, p. 291). In this later work, Galtung refines his earlier definition and categories of violence. He redefines violence as ‘avoidable insults to basic human needs, and more generally to life, lowering the real level of needs satisfaction’ (Galtung, 1990, p. 292). He also addresses some of the issues from his earlier definition, including the anthropocentric nature of his definitions. Galtung acknowledges the definition of violence needs to move beyond harm to people to include animals and nature. Another major revision in his work is regarding the term ‘exploitation’. In his 1969 paper, Galtung explicitly avoids using the term for its ‘political and emotional overtones’ (p. 171). In later work, he describes exploitation as the ‘centre-piece’ of the ‘archetypal violent structure’ (Galtung, 1990, p. 241). This shift is significant in terms of recognising the role of the political and the emotional dynamics in cultural violence. Galtung’s writing is rich in detail and ambiguities beyond what can effectively be summarised here. However, this brief summary of Galtung’s three levels of violence provides language to consider the interconnected micro and macro dynamics of violence that produce violating experiences. The three levels of violence are interrelated as the objective levels legitimise and perpetuate the subjective level. Yet they are also each distinct as subjective (or what Galtung calls ‘direct’) violence is understood as a once-off ‘event’ (Galtung, 1990, p. 294). Structural violence is conceived as a ‘process’. Finally, cultural violence is positioned as a consistent permanent feature 2 The

term ‘objective’ to describe violence is problematic. It invokes the positivist sciences and claims of neutrality, with which I am uncomfortable because it obscures the subjective human reality and effects of violence. It is not my intention to reinforce these unhelpful assumptions. I unpack these issues and my reasons for adopting this language in Chap. 7. However, the term objective violence is useful as an umbrella term for non-physical violence including structural, cultural and symbolic violence (and likely more). Listing each of these terms will become increasingly impractical in this book. As a result, I will use the imperfect term objective violence.

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of a culture (Galtung, 1990, p. 294). In this framework, violence is still undoubtedly connected to power. While these boundaries may not always be clear, within this scaffold violence is understood as a system with its own rhythms and structures.

2.4.2 Symbolic Violence: A Controversy While being a key feature of peace studies, Galtung’s work is not mainstream in sociology and even less so in youth studies. This is especially true in contrast to Bourdieu’s (2001) aforementioned ‘symbolic violence’. Bourdieu’s scholarship and theory of symbolic violence have been subject to debate in youth studies recently (Bessant, Pickard, & Watts, 2019). These debates have often focused on young people’s ‘choice biographies’ (Farrugia, 2013; Roberts, 2010; Threadgold, 2011; Woodman, 2009; Woodman & Threadgold, 2011, 2014). Scholars in this debate have also emphasised the significance of ‘conscious’ and ‘unconscious’ class associations for determining young people’s sense of choice and agency. France and Threadgold (2015) argue that Bourdieu’s terms ‘illusio, social gravity, misrecognition, doxa and symbolic violence’ (p. 623) are a more useful way to understand how young people make decisions. They argue that symbolic violence is useful because it reflects a ‘social suffering’ that results from attempting to participate in a system in which young people ‘never seem to fit’ and in fact ‘may be rigged against them’ (p. 625). I return to the strengths and weaknesses of youth studies’ engagement with violence through this lens in the following chapter. Specifically, I will address the negative effects of focus in these aforementioned works on the reflexive and symbolic that overlooks an analysis of the violence and violation experienced by young people. To identify the gaps in the youth studies literature regarding the conceptualisation of violence in the following chapter, I need to first outline my approach to violence in this chapter. Bourdieu’s theory of symbolic violence overlaps with Galtung’s threetiered structure in that they both describe the cultural legitimation of domination that results in violence appearing to be normal and acceptable (Bourdieu, 2001, p. 35; Galtung, 1990, p. 291). Galtung’s description of cultural violence focuses on general institutions within cultures and societies that reinforce structural violence, including: ‘religion and ideology, language and art, empirical science and formal science (logic, mathematics)’ (Galtung, 1990, p. 291). In contrast, Bourdieu (2001) is interested specifically in the symbolic meaning within language and symbols between people. Bourdieu’s (2001) idea is established in his well-known theory of habitus. He describes the relations of domination as constructed ‘below the level of the decisions of consciousness’ (p. 37). The relationships of domination are obscured from the dominated and, as such, they can work to reinforce their domination (Bourdieu, 2001, p. 38). In this work, Bourdieu (2001) examines masculine domination. He describes an inclination among certain women to seek male partners who are physically larger than themselves. By doing so, these women are influenced by and participate in cultural norms that subordinate women based on the assumed need for physical protection and provision. He argues that symbolic violence can only be

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overcome by the transformation of culture and society that produce these relationships of domination. Arguably, Bourdieu’s work brings a deeper analysis and nuance to the cultural and symbolic aspects of Galtung’s broad scheme. Bourdieu’s theory is controversial, however, among scholars operating within the sociology of violence for its prescription of the unconscious complicity of the dominated in their domination (Walby et al., 2014, p. 196). Walby et al. (2014) refute this position pointing to the work of Fanon (1990) and von Holdt (2013) in which the oppressed are always aware of their oppression and looking for ways to resist it. Furthermore, they argue that Bourdieu’s approach is the opposite of Gramsci’s (1971) thesis, which contends that hidden relations of domination become visible under the strain of coercion. Finally, they argue that Bourdieu’s theory (like Zizek’s) fails to adequately separate violence from power and in doing so obscures and marginalises physical and gendered violence (Walby et al., 2014, p. 191). The problems of complicity and resistance to violence (and domination) are not easily resolved. Within youth studies, the issue within Bourdieu’s work is reflected in the debate over young people’s capacity for reflexive consciousness. This debate is significant even among the advocates of Bourdieu’s theory. For example, France and Threadgold (2015) argue that young people are reflexively conscious of their class position, but at the same time can be ‘complicit’ in their acceptance of the ‘naturalness’ of this position (p. 625). The debate here is guided in most part by the desire to move away from the implication of young people being ‘blind’ (Furlong & Cartmel, 2006, p. 144) and ‘complicit’ (Bourdieu, 2001), and in favour of positioning young people as conscious agents capable of creating change to varying degrees. Yet, this issue remains unresolved. As such, Bourdieu’s symbolic violence remains useful and yet controversial and will be approached with caution in this book.

2.4.3 Subjectivities and Performativities Wieviorka’s scholarship is arguably more mainstream in sociology and debatably more youth focussed than Galtung’s, but less so than Bourdieu’s. His scholarship includes studying the activities of a group of young people identified as ‘skinheads’ in France, though this research was carried out 25 years ago (Wieviorka, 2014, p. 58). In a more recent 2014 piece, titled ‘The sociological analysis of violence: new perspectives’ in The Sociological Review, Wieviorka outlines a useful typology of subjects and violence. In this paper, Wieviorka is interested in the ‘meaning inherent to the violence’ (2014, p. 59). Trying to understand why one individual commits violence and another does not, he argues for the need to examine the ‘subject, subjectivation and desubjectivation’ (p. 59) associated with violence. Crucially, Wieviorka adopts a narrow, or what he calls ‘instrumental’ (Wieviorka, 2014, p. 51), definition of violence. In Wieviorka’s (2014) paper he proposes four ‘leading types of subject’ including (1) the ‘floating subject’, the (2) ‘hyper-subject’, the (3) ‘non-subject’ and the

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(4) ‘anti-subject’ (p. 60). The floating subject is an actor who chooses violence as the expression of their agency is ‘precluded by conditions which are particularly unfavourable’ (Wieviorka, 2014, p. 60). In other words, the actor employs the passionate force of violence in the absence of effective alternatives. The hypersubject’s agency is likewise constrained by external circumstances. However, their violence is accompanied by an internal process of meaning finding or creation that legitimises or fortifies the necessity for violence (p. 60). The non-subject acts violently while shirking or deferring responsibility for their actions to others (p. 60). Finally, the anti-subject ‘acts violently from pleasure’ (p. 61). In his 2005 book, Wieviorka proposes an additional 5th subject, the ‘survivor-subject’, which is absent from his 2014 paper. The survivor-subject acts out of the ‘self-preservation of someone who feels threatened in their very being’ (Wieviorka, 2005, p. 155). Drawing on psychoanalytic theory, Wieviorka argues this is a kind of ‘fundamental violence’ (2005, p. 155) that precedes the subject. This is an intriguing exclusion from his later work, not least of which because he relates this subject directly to young people. Wieviorka (2005) argues that fundamental violence is the ‘product of failings on the part of adults who cannot offer the young people concerned adequate models with which they can identify’ (p. 156). Wieviorka argues that the idea of this kind of violence implies a ‘universal anthropological characteristic’ (p. 155), an inherent human quality, that is violent. Furthermore, he argues that while violence is to an extent ‘natural’ it must be overcome, stating that a ‘well-organised personality must channel [it] into non-violent behaviour’ (p. 156). Wieviorka’s approach to conceptualising the fifth subject and perhaps its later exclusion, is better understood in light of his overarching process. To understand the relationship between the subject and violence Wieviorka’s ‘starting point [is] not violence but what produces it, namely a subjectivity’ (p. 149). The fifth subject in his typology is strange in this regard because it begins with violence, however, to make it fit in his typology fundamental violence has to be a feature of the subject so as not to precede it. This particular aspect of Wieviorka’s writing is worth highlighting in-depth for two reasons. Firstly, it highlights the difference between my approach and Wieviorka’s. As I shall unpack, in contrast to Wieviorka the broader definition of violence I adopt starts with violence and its objective systems and structures, and examines the subjectivities they produce. Secondly, Wieviorka’s assumption regarding an inherent fundamentally violent human nature is incompatible with the orientation towards young people in this book. I argue, this common and popular assumption about young people as inherently violent is unfounded and unhelpful. This narrative is unpacked and critiqued in depth in the following chapter. Wieviorka’s (2005) typology contains several assumptions, or at least deliberate orientations, toward the issue that are problematic. In addition to the issues regarding his narrow focus on physical violence, his approach also emphasises the meaning of the violence for the perpetrator. Furthermore, the notion of the subject in his typology contains a kind of functionalist orientation toward society as inherently positive and violence as an aberration of the natural pattern of behaviour. As a result, at best, this typology is limited to examining Zizek’s outburst of subjective violence and overlooks the underpinning objective violence within social systems.

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In spite of these issues, an interesting possibility emerges when Wieviorka’s typology is combined with the broader scope of objective violence. The subjects described by Wieviorka can be viewed as subjectivities which are constituted, in a Foucauldian sense, by the available discursive regimes of violence. Farrugia (2016) unpacked the ‘lived-subjectivities’ (p. 47) of homeless young people in similar terms, describing it in terms of a process of ‘assembling the subject’ (p. 47). Livedsubjectivities are the subjective positions available to young people produced by the ‘structural relationships and cultural division that make up youth homelessness’ (p. 47). Moreover, citing Butler (2011), Farrugia describes a subjectivity as a ‘performative citation’ (p. 47), or a performativity, which ‘articulates and materialises the material and meaningful embodied subject’ (p. 53). Finally, drawing on Bourdieu, Farrugia argues these performativities are different subjective positions available to which young people ‘articulate creative responses’ (p. 47). In other words, Wieviorka’s subjects of violence can be reimagined as violent performativities which are available to young people to enact or resist. Rather than the subject preceding the violence and violence being physical and an aberration (i.e. deviant behaviour in a non-violent society), in this reimagining violence precedes the subject and the subject is understood as a lived subjective experience that is produced by violating structural and cultural forces. Furthermore, rather than violence being a feature of the subject, the subjective positions produced by violence exist and young people at times enact or resist them. I will further unpack the nuances of the pre-existing violent performativities available to young people in the following chapter in the context of re-examining youth studies approach to violence more generally. However, it is important to note I do not plan to redefine each of the subjects offered by Wieviorka as performativities. I do not think differentiating and labelling four or five, ‘leading’ (Wieviorka, 2014, p. 60) or otherwise, performativities would be an accurate description of the potentially innumerable temporally and spatially entangled violent performativities available to young people. Instead, I propose to simply differentiate between the enacting and the resisting of violent performativities. In doing so I also fill in a gap in Wieviorka’s typology regarding the possibility for resistance to violent subject positions, and the potential for subjective positions that are resistant to violence.

2.5 An Assemblage of Subjects My approach to youth violence as the enacting and resisting of violent performativities clarifies the seemingly strange assemblage of research participant categories in this book. To gain a holistic understanding of the violent performativities available to young people requires listening to both those who would typically be thought of as victims and perpetrators of violence. The broader definition of violence prompts this attention to both the victim and the perpetrator. Moreover, attention is required on those who enact, but also those who resist violent performativities. I want to be careful not to perpetuate dominant stereotypes or obscure structural forces on young

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people by labelling particular cohorts with these assumed categories. However, it is fair to say that the child protection and juvenile justice systems are (broadly) designed to address the issues of violence done to (victim) and violence done by (perpetrator) young people respectively. The inclusion of young people participating in non-violent political action completes the categories by providing insights into the attempt to resist violent performativities, as compared to the assumed enactment of violence in the aforementioned categories. These assumptions about the nature of the categories and the participants’ place in them will also be critically examined in this book. That is to say, the assumption that young people in the juvenile justice system enact violent performativities but do not resist them is a false dichotomy. Likewise, the idea that young people utilising non-violent direct action never enact violence is an oversimplification. These assumptions may be a useful starting point that provides clarity. However, these assumptions do not hold up under scrutiny. Furthermore, there remains the issue of young people’s reflexive awareness of their enactment of these violent performativities. Again, a dominant narrative might conclude that the young people involved in political activism would possess a greater reflexive awareness of their enactment of violence. This assumption likewise proves to be false.

2.6 Conclusion In this chapter, I have constructed a landscape within the contemporary study of violence that emphasise the salient and problematic issues surrounding the subjects and objects of violence. This landscape is developed on the foundational idea that violence needs to be understood as a unique social phenomenon that is distinct from the operations of power with its own rhythms and systems. Moreover, to begin to understand violence in this way requires a stepping back from the appeal of flashy instrumental violence, a re-evaluation of the structures, culture, symbols and systems that produce outbursts of physical violence. My overview of the field has been constructed around a series of paired ideas. First, I introduced Zizek’s notion of subjective and objective violence. Clarifying Zizek’s broad and permeable categories, the two approaches or definitions of violence were added to articulate the implications of narrow and broad parameters of violence. To maintain the distinction between power and violence the additional layers and language of structural, cultural and symbolic violence were unpacked within the broad definition of objective violence. Adopting these layers and language within objective violence has the effect of making present or absent (visible or invisible— another paired idea) some experiences of violence at the cost of others. Finally, reimagining Wieviorka’s subjective positions of violence within the systems of objective violence created the possibility for violent performativities for creative enactments or resistance. These categories and paired couples are useful for organising thoughts. However, in their dualistic format, they are ultimately a flawed construction. Focussing on the

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victim and the perpetrator ignores the role and impact on an observer. Presenting either narrow or broad definitions of violence oversimplifies the diversity of experiences in-between and all around those two points. The suggestions that enactment and resistance to violent performativities are the only options obscure the reality that some resistance might contain elements of violence (and vice versa). For these reasons, I haven’t proposed another typology of violence or a list of the most prevalent subjective positions. Instead, I am interested in the workings and operations of the violence that place strain on young people to enact violence and that suppress resistance. I don’t assume that young people are violent or that they will necessarily become so. I am interested in the violence done to young people to understand the violence done by young people. I contend that to examine the violence done to and by young people requires a framework that recognises the systems of objective violence that construct performativities which young people embody to varying degrees. These lived-subjectivities are articulated by violating structural inequalities and cultural legitimisation of violence. Physical and subjective violence is not an inherent attribute of young people or youth or an aberration from a normal state of zero-violence in society. Instead, physical and subjective violence is an eruption and materialisation of objective violent in an embodied form. In the following chapter, I apply this approach to violence to a gap in youth studies and Giroux’s (2014) concern for the ‘merging of violence and governance’ (p. 226). Giroux (2014) describes the ‘systemic disinvestment in and breakdown of institutions and public spheres which have provided the minimal conditions for democracy’ (p. 226). He calls this phenomenon ‘Neoliberal Violence’. The possibilities of neoliberal violence suggest the articulation of particular violent performativities for young people. Youth studies scholars are identifying the ‘scarring’ (Cuervo & Wyn, 2016) effects of violent neoliberal performativities that can already be seen on a ‘lost generation’ (MacDonald, 2016) of young people.

References Arendt, H. (1972). Crises of the Republic: Lying in Politics; Civil Disobedience; On Violence; Thoughts on Politics and Revolution (1st ed.). New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Bessant, J., Pickard, S., & Watts, R. (2019). Translating bourdieu into youth studies. Journal of Youth Studies, 23(1), 76–92. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2019.1702633. Bourdieu, P. (2001). Masculine Domination. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. Bufacchi, V. (2005). Two concepts of violence. Political Studies Review, 3(2), 193–204. https://doi. org/10.1111/j.1478-9299.2005.00023.x. Butler, J. (2011). Bodies That Matter. New York: Routledge Classics. Cuervo, H., & Wyn, J. (2016). An unspoken crisis: the ‘scarring effects’ of the complex nexus between education and work on two generations of young Australians. International Journal of Lifelong Education, 35(2), 122–135. https://doi.org/10.1080/02601370.2016.1164467. DeKeseredy, W. S., Rennison, C. M., & Hall-Sanchez, A. K. (Eds.). (2018). The Routledge International Handbook of Violence Studies. Oxon: Routledge.

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Durkheim, E. (2002). Suicide: A Study in Sociology (J. A. Spaulding & G. Simpson, Trans.). London: Taylor & Francis. Eriksson, M. (2013). Tackling violence in intimacy: Interacting power relations and policy change. Current sociology, 61(2), 171–189. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456504. Fanon, F. (1990). The Wretched of the Earth. London: Penguin. Farrugia, D. (2013). Young people and structural inequality: beyond the middle ground. Journal of Youth Studies, 16(5), 679–693. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2012.744817. Farrugia, D. (2016). Youth Homelessness in Late Modernity: Reflexive Identities and Moral Worth (Vol. 1). Singapore: Springer. Foucault, M. (1979). Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin. France, A., & Threadgold, S. (2015). Youth and political economy: Towards a Bourdieusian approach. Journal of Youth Studies, 19(5), 612–628. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2015.109 8779. Furlong, A., & Cartmel, F. (2006). Young People and Social Change. Buckingham: Mc-Graw Hill Education. Galtung, J. (1969). Violence, peace and peace research. Journal of peace research, 6(3), 167–191. Galtung, J. (1990). Cultural violence. Journal of peace research, 27(3), 291–305. Galtung, J., & Scott, P. (2008). Democracy, Peace, Development. Oslo: Kolofon Press. Giroux, H. A. (2014). Resisting Youth and the Crushing State Violence of Neoliberalism. In A. Kamp & P. Kelly (Eds.), A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century (pp. 223–239). Boston: Brill. Gramsci, A. (1971). Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci. London: Lawrence and Wishart. Grinberg, L. L. (2013). Resistance, politics and violence: The catch of the Palestinian struggle. Current sociology, 61(2), 206–225. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456506. Hearn, J. (2013). The sociological significance of domestic violence: Tensions, paradoxes and implications. Current sociology, 61(2), 152–170. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456503. Henriksen, A.-K., & Bengtsson, T. T. (2018). Trivializing violence: Marginalized youth narrating everyday violence. Theoretical Criminology, 22(1), 99–115. https://doi.org/10.1177/136248061 6671995. Institute for Economics & Peace. (2019). Global Peace Index 2019. Retrieved from Sydney: http:// visionofhumanity.org/reports. Kilby, J., & Ray, L. (2014). Introduction. The Sociological Review, 62(2_suppl), 1–12. https://doi. org/10.1111/1467-954x.12188. Law, J. (2004). After Method: Mess in Social Science Research. London: Routledge. MacDonald, R. (2016). Precarious work: the growing precarité of youth. In A. Furlong (Ed.), Routledge Handbook of Youth and Young Adulthood (2nd ed.). Oxon: Routledge. Maleševi´c, S. (2010). The Sociology of War and Violence. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Maleševi´c, S. (2017). The Rise of Organised Brutality. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Marx, K., & Engels, F. (2014). The Manifesto of the Communist Party. In F. Engels (Ed.). Retrieved from https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/m/marx/karl/m39c/index.html. Mills, C. W. (1970). The Sociological Imagination. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Roberts, S. (2010). Misrepresenting ‘choice biographies’?: a reply to Woodman. Journal of Youth Studies, 13(1), 137–149. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260903233720. Sercombe, H. (2003). Reflections on youth violence. Youth Studies Australia, 22(1), 25–30. Strega, S. (2005). The view from the poststructural margins. In L. A. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as Resistance (pp. 199–235). Toronto: Canadian Scholars Press. Threadgold, S. (2011). Should I pitch my tent in the middle ground? On ‘middling tendency’, Beck and inequality in youth sociology. Journal of Youth Studies, 14(4), 381–393. https://doi.org/10. 1080/13676261.2010.538042.

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von Holdt, K. (2013). The violence of order, orders of violence: Between Fanon and Bourdieu. Current sociology, 61(2), 112–131. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456492. von Holdt, K. (2014). On violent democracy. The Sociological Review, 62(S2), 129–151. https:// doi.org/10.1111/1467-954X.12196. Walby, S. (2013). Violence and Society: Introduction to an emerging field of sociology. Current sociology, 61(2), 95–111. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456478. Walby, S., Towers, J., & Francis, B. (2014). Mainstreaming domestic and gender-based violence into sociology and the criminology of violence. The Sociological Review, 62(S2), 187–214. https:// doi.org/10.1111/1467-954X.12198. Weber, M. (1946). Politics as Vocation. In C. W. Mills & H. H. Gerth (Eds.), Essays in Sociology (pp. 77–128). New York: Oxford University Press. Wieviorka, M. (2005). Violence: A New Approach (D. Macey, Trans.). London: SAGE. Wieviorka, M. (2014). The sociological analysis of violence: New perspectives. The Sociological Review, 62(S2), 50–64. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-954X.12191. Woodman, D. (2009). The mysterious case of the pervasive choice biography: Ulrich Beck, structure/agency, and the middling state of theory in the sociology of youth. Journal of Youth Studies, 12(3), 243–256. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260902807227. Woodman, D., & Threadgold, S. (2011). The future of the sociology of youth. Youth Studies Australia, 30(3), 8–12. Woodman, D., & Threadgold, S. (2014). Critical youth studies in an individualized and globalized world: Making the most of Bourdieu and Beck. A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century (pp. 552–566). Brill: Leiden, Boston. Zizek, S. (2008). Violence: Six Sideways Reflections. London, UK: Profile Books LTD.

Chapter 3

Violence and Youth Studies in the 21st Century

In 2014 Giroux’s contributed a chapter to the collection Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century considering ‘Resisting Youth and the Crushing State Violence of Neoliberalism’. Giroux’s passionate and evocative rhetoric powerfully communicates the destructive and violating systemic forces that permeate the contemporary experience of youth. Young people are subjected to these forces in youth under neoliberal governance. Giroux (2014) asserts that young people ‘are increasingly met with forms of physical, ideological, and structural violence’ (p. 226). However, Giroux makes this argument without explicitly drawing on the work of other violence scholars, including those outlined in the previous chapter. The conceptualisations of subjective and objective violence I outlined in the previous chapter are implicitly present in Giroux’s contribution, alongside the critical youth studies knowledge hinterland. However, providing a systematic framework for understanding youth violence is not Giroux’s intent and, as such, this is absent in his chapter. The absence of a framework is a gap in the field in the understanding of young people’s experiences and the connection between youth and contemporary systems of objective violence. Moreover, there is a gap in the understanding of how young people are resisting and enacting subjective and objective performativities of violence. This chapter fills part of this gap focusing primarily on developing a framework for conceptualising young people’s resistance and enactment of subjective and objective violence. Young people’s experiences and the distinctly neoliberal1 nature of contemporary forms of violence will be unpacked in light of this framework in the following chapters. Giroux’s description of crushing state-sanctioned systems and structures of violence directed at young people evokes intuitive connections to the structural and cultural violence described by Galtung (1969, 1990). At the heart of Giroux’s chapter is a central concern within youth studies for the exclusion and oppression of young 1 In

Chap. 6, I unpack the features of neoliberalism and the effects on youth. Briefly here it is important to note that I adopt an understanding of neoliberalism as an approach to governing that promotes individual property rights (Fraser & Taylor, 2016, p. 3) in the context of a moral privileging of market solutions (Bacchi, 2009, p. 276; Watts, 2013, p. 117). © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 B. A. Lohmeyer, Youth and Violent Performativities, Perspectives on Children and Young People 11, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-5542-8_3

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people. Giroux argues the mistreatment of young people is connected to a broader cultural narrative of violence through the fabrication of a state of permanent ‘war’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 227) by neoliberal governance. Patriotism, militarism and organised violence are propagated and legitimised by the ‘war on’ drugs, terror or immigration which are underpinned by a mythology of violence that pervades popular culture narratives and competitive capitalism. As a result, when young people protest Giroux (2014) argues they are increasingly met by state-sanctioned violence (p. 226). However, without an explicit framework to understand the dynamics of subjective and objective violence, Giroux’s description is theoretically thin and disconnected from other significant explanatory ideas in youth studies such as the ‘epistemological fallacy’ (Furlong & Cartmel, 2006) and the seeming inescapable notion of youth as transition (Kelly, 2011, p. 48). This chapter fills in these gaps by examining the production of violent performativities, as I introduced in the previous chapter, as a result of the unique dynamics of violence rather than merely a product of power or pre-existing subjectivities. This chapter begins with a more detailed explanation of the theory underpinning violent performativities with attention in particular to the recent work of Farrugia (2016) and Watson (2018), as well as Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018). Following this, I examine the two aforementioned prominent youth studies ideas (the epistemological fallacy and youth as transition) through this lens. This approach demonstrates the value of understanding young people’s violent behaviour as a part of a broader interconnected system of objective and subjective violence. I argue that this approach reveals the dynamics of violence in these ideas, and provides a framework to understand how violence to young people shapes violence by young people.

3.1 The Violent Performativities of Youth In the previous chapter, I proposed a model for understanding young people’s enactment and resistance to violence as performativities produced by the objective operations of violating structures that are legitimised and justified through cultural discourses. To develop this approach, I drew together Wieviorka’s (2014) subjects of violence with Farrugia’s (2016) ‘lived-subjectivities’ (p. 47) of homeless young people in the context of Galtung’s (1969, 1990) structural and cultural violence as well as Bourdieu’s (2001) symbolic violence. I also argued, in alliance with Walby (2013) and von Holdt (2013), that violence and power have often been conflated in sociology, and that examining violence with its own systems and dynamics offers a better understanding of the complexity of violence and youth in modernity. Galtung and Bourdieu’s scholarship provide the framework to examine the personal, structural, cultural and symbolic dimensions of violence under the broad umbrella of what Zizek (2008) called subjective and objective violence.

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Farrugia (2016) and Watson (2018) both employ Bourdieu’s (2001) symbolic violence in conjunction with Butler’s (2011) notion of performative subjectivities. Farrugia focusses on homeless young people’s reflexive identities and Watson investigates young people’s experiences of survival sex. However, in both cases examining the relationship between violence and power, the dynamics of power are employed to explain young people’s experiences of violation. Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) also draw on Butler’s work arguing that ‘the body is not a fixed, biological entity, but rather a social body in flux, … informed by and inform[ing] experiences and narratives of violence’ (p. 101). Distinguishing their approach, Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) centralise and differentiate violence as unique from power arguing that their notion of ‘trivialized violence is conceptualized as the product of social processes wherein diverse forms of violence inform, transform, and minimize each other across social spaces’ (p. 100). However, their analysis doesn’t contain a detailed explanation of the diverse social processes of violence or differentiate between subjective and objective forms of violence. Layering an understanding of the dynamics of subjective and objective violence on top of Watson (2018), Farrugia (2016), Henriksen and Bengtsson’s (2018) explanations of violence and performative subjectivities enables a focus on the complexity of violence produced by interconnected personal and structural forces. Through this lens, young people’s subjective enactment and resistance to violence can be understood in the context of the objective structural violation and cultural legitimation of violence without simplifying violence to individual behaviour or a product of the operations of power. In turn, this approach fills in the gaps in the literature highlighted by Giroux’s description of young people’s resistance to the crushing violence of neoliberal governance. Examining the reflexive identities of homeless young people, Farrugia (2016) argues selfhood and identity are produced through ‘assemblages of meanings, embodied experiences and relationships’ (p. 51) that construct the range of possible subjectivities. Furthermore, the construction of subjective positions available to homeless young people can be understood as ‘a process analogous to symbolic violence’ (Farrugia, 2016, p. 48). As a result, homeless young people become invested in the symbols and discourses of dominant culture that also work to exclude them. As outlined briefly in the previous chapter, Farrugia (2016) draws on Butler’s (1993, 2011) notion of performative subjectivities as an embodied subject and an assembled position produced by the available structural and cultural discourses (Farrugia, 2016, p. 47). In other words, homeless young people enact a sense of self within the dominant cultural understanding of homelessness and the material reality available to them. The performance of these embodied subjectivities is violating, as it positions them as a subordinate due to their failure to achieve the social expectation of possessing a home. Furthermore, homelessness is popularly misunderstood, by young people and western society, to be an attribute of the individual, rather than the result of social and cultural forces. Within the logic of competitive individualism, having a home is the result of hard work, intelligence and individual choice (Watson, 2018, p. 57). Therefore, in contrast, homelessness must be the result of laziness,

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stupidity and poor choices. Through their enactment of the dominant discourse of homelessness young people are complicit in their own oppression thus reflecting the cycle of symbolic violence. In her investigation of survival sex, Watson (2018) further emphasises the dominance of structural and cultural forces constraining the availability of performativities, arguing that there are ‘few opportunities for young homeless women to express their identities outside of being stigmatised’ (p. 48). Homeless young people may be complicit in the cycle of symbolic violence, however, it is questionable as to the meaningfulness of their agency in light of the dominance of structural and cultural forces. The apportion of blame to the victim of symbolic violence is problematic if the objective systems of violence precede the subject and set the terms for the expression of their agency. However, Watson also argues that it is essential to recognise the difference between available subjectivities and the embodiment or investment in subject positions (p. 48). Acknowledging this distinction creates space for individual agency, but also challenges the stability of these subjectivities. Watson provides an example of a young woman who doesn’t position herself as homeless because she has attained accommodation through ‘survival sex’; i.e. an intimate transaction for material benefit, but not a romantic relationship (p. 49). Acknowledging the incongruence between the dominant cultural narrative of homelessness and the subject’s internalised belief creates space for instability and resistance to the available performativities. It also further complexifies the problem of complicity in symbolic violence. Both Watson and Farrugia emphasise the role of Bourdieu’s (2008) notion of habitus in the construction of the complicity required for symbolic violence. They also connect the production of subjectivities to Foucault’s discursive analysis of power (Farrugia, 2016, p. 47; Watson, 2018, p. 57). As a result, the violating experiences of homelessness are understood primarily as a product of power. Violence itself, and its unique subjective and objective dynamics, is side-lined. The distinction between violence and power is difficult to sustain. The two are seemingly inexorably linked in a messy and interdependent relationship. However, the effort to sustain a focus on the distinctive operations of violence is valuable if it offers insights into young people’s experiences of violence and how this abhorrent phenomenon is resisted and reproduced. One of the benefits of distinguishing between power and violence is the acknowledgement of the potential for resistance. Watson (2018) takes aim at the political pessimism of symbolic violence by emphasising the possibility of ‘transgression and trans-formation of the self’ (p. 61) in Butler’s performativity. A similar concern is debated by contemporary youth studies scholars regarding the nature of choice and young people’s reflexive capacity in the context of the epistemological fallacy (Farrugia, 2013; Roberts, 2010; Threadgold, 2011; Woodman, 2009; Woodman & Threadgold, 2011, 2014). Some scholars in this debate have adopted Bourdieu’s framework to avoid the problems of structure and agency (France & Haddon, 2014, p. 309). The avenues for resistance to structural forces is contested in youth studies,

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and I return to the issues of the epistemological fallacy later in this chapter. I argue that while the focus in these debates remains on the operations of power, it obscures the unique subjective and objective operations of violence. Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) argue there is a need to ‘move away from criminological explorations of violence as linear, mono-causal, and unitary and towards exploring the complex and entangled social processes of violence’ (p. 102). Furthermore, they argue there is a need to consider the ‘temporal and spatial entanglements of violence’ and ‘how experiences of violence across a range of social spaces inform each other in intricate patterns of flux and flow’ (p. 102). In other words, violence needs to be examined in its own right, not just as a product of power or individual behaviour. This, they argue, enables an understanding of the trivialisation of young people’s attitudes towards violence as an ‘adaptation strategy’ resulting from ‘repeated exposure to violence or social suffering’ (p. 102). Trivialisation of violence, they argue, is the result of regular exposure that ‘accumulate[s] as embodied experiences’ (p. 102). Violence becomes an acceptable and ordinary experience of everyday life. In this approach, violence precedes the subject. It is not understood as a pre-existing ‘fundamental’ (Wieviorka, 2005, p. 155) characteristic. As a result, the agency of the subject is maintained and so is the potential for resistance. Over space and time, the subject adapts, resists or accepts violence to cope with their ongoing exposure. Focussing on violence doesn’t resolve the issue of choice and agency. In Henriksen and Bengtsson’s (2018) account, the question of the meaningfulness of the choice to adapt to violence is unsolved. Shifting away from equating violence with power creates a space to examine the potential for embodied resistance or the enactment of violence as a result of objective systems of violence that produce performative subjectivities. In other words, embodied, physical, subjective violence can be understood as outbursts or enactments of violent performativities produced by the objective operations of violating structures, legitimised and justified through violent cultural discourses. Centring violence in this way gives space to consider different questions. What are the cultural narratives of youth that justify violence to young people and violence by young people? What are the social structures in youth that violate young people’s lives? How do these result in material subjective realities and performances of violence? As in the previous chapter, I am not attempting to offer a comprehensive typology of youth violence. I avoid this task primarily because the complexity of contemporary violence is beyond simplistic explanations. Instead, I am proposing the centring of violence so that violence by young people can be understood as part of a system of ‘physical, ideological, and structural violence’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 226). Centring violence in the examination of the performativities available to young people reassesses violence as a lived experience that is produced by the symbolic structural and cultural dynamics of violence. Rather than a purely physical force, violence can be understood as a ‘performative citation’ (Farrugia, 2016, p. 47) to which young people ‘articulate creative responses’ (p. 47). This approach avoids

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some of the individualising issues of Wieviorka’s (2014) typology of violent subjects. When violence precedes the subject, physical violence is understood as a product of violating social structures rather than bad behaviour by bad people. Moreover, violence done by young people is understood as a product of violence done to them, emphasising cycles of violence with its own features and functions not simply as a product of power. I return to other issues with individual responsibility and complicity within symbolic violence later in the chapter. The centring of violence gives room for a complex interplay between the categories of victim and perpetrator of violence, as well as the dual representation of youth as both vulnerable and risky (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). To illustrate the value of the centring of violence in this way, I re-examine first the notion of youth as transition and then the epistemological fallacy.

3.2 The Violence of Exclusion and Transition Within a critical sociology of youth, youth is fundamentally understood as a category of exclusion (Sercombe, 2010, p. 19; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 22; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 8). This category excludes non-adults from the privileges and rights associated with adulthood. Violence is a common theme in this exclusion. It is both a method and a justification for exclusion. As I described in Chap. 1, young people are over-represented in violence statistics, and uncritically associated with violent behaviour. This association between young people and the period of youth with risktaking behaviours—such as damaging property, participating in gangs, and notably engaging in physical violence—continues to be contested by youth sociologists (Kumsa, Ng, Chambon, Maiter, & Yan, 2013, p. 848; Sercombe, 2003, p. 26; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 52). Yet, youth persists in being uncritically connected to violence (Kumsa et al., 2013, p. 849) by media, governments and in the public sphere in Australia. Furthermore, violence is often portrayed as an ‘everyday reality of many young people around the world’ (Kumsa et al., 2013, p. 848). The association between violence and youth is a dominant discourse that demarcates young people from adults. Young people are popularly understood to be violent, ‘animalistic and uncontrollable’ (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). In addition to being considered perpetrators of violence, the ‘everyday reality’ of violence in youth includes young people tragically being victims of violence and war. Daiute (2009) reports that since the start of the 21st century ‘2 million children have been killed, 6 million seriously injured, and approximately 10 million affected by displacement, loss of family, and other consequences of armed conflict’ (p. 319). Moreover, as outlined in Chap. 1, the findings from the World Health Organisation’s 2014 Global Status Report on Violence Prevention suggested that violence is a defining feature of the experience of being young for many people.

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3.2.1 The Cultural Violence of Youth as Transition The dominant popular conception of youth underpinning young people’s exclusion is the idea that youth is a period of transition (Bacchi, 2009, p. 59; Kelly, 2010, p. 303; Wyn & Woodman, 2007, p. 495). This is the transition from childhood into adulthood. Kelly (2011) argues that to a degree ‘all constructions of youth defer to this narrative of becoming, of transition’ (p. 48). This transition is primarily conceptualised as a linear movement towards maturity and capability (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 9), and away from violent behaviours. Youth is a status associated with individuals or groups who are yet to complete the transition and achieve the associated developmental goals that grant adult status. Youth as a transition is popularly conceptualised in terms of an ‘objective’ agebased measure (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 10), which indicates the completion of developmental tasks that are supposedly common to all young people. There is an implicit association in this transition between physical development, identity development and chronological age (Te Riele, 2006, p. 132). It can be argued that biological adulthood can be identified with relative ease when associated with the capacity to reproduce (Sercombe, 2010, p. 20). However, the prioritisation of this measure over the social and identity dimensions of adulthood glosses over the complexity of the transition to adulthood. The experience of feeling young or old, and having access to adult rights, is highly contingent on social context (Sercombe, 2010, p. 20). This experience is mediated through social, cultural, economic and political institutions, policies and conventions (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 3). The signs of adulthood are often associated with symbols such as marriage, study, employment, sex, driving cars, taking drugs, and leaving home—all of which are politically, culturally and socially dependent (Sercombe, 2010, p. 20; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). When the transition is conceived as a normative and linear process, young people are ‘accredited’ (Sercombe, 2010, p. 20) into adult status as they fulfil socially constructed expectations. Failure to achieve these expectations often results in being labelled ‘too young’ (Sercombe, 2010, p. 19). Too young is a social signifier that indicates a young person is yet to assimilate the dominant social codes (Sercombe, 2010, p. 19). Too young is not an age-based exclusion, as many young people exhibit capacities associated with, or sometimes exceeding, those of adults (Coady, 2015, p. 384; Sercombe, 2010, p. 19). For example, in Australia at 13 years of age a young person living on a farm might drive a car, or even operate other more complex machinery. Many older people never learn to drive a car. At 15 and younger, many schoolaged young people around the globe become politically active, for example through school-based student representative councils or issues focussed groups that campaign for a human rights or environmental protections (Pickard, 2019). In contrast, many adults continue to shun opportunities to participate in political life. Young people are recruited as child soldiers, other young people become homeless, still others are forced into unwanted marriages, prostitution or become the sole income earner and provider for a household. These kinds of responsibilities and violating burdens occur in developed and developing countries. They are not simply prevented by democratic

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governance, the rule of law or biological age. Rather, young people are excluded from adult status because they have not yet conformed to the socially constructed norms of adulthood. As a result of their failure to adopt the social codes associated with adulthood, young people are connected in popular discourses—employed by media and governments—with risk, but also with innocence. This ‘dual popular representation’ works to reinforce the difference between young people and adults (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). Young people are understood to be a threat to society as a result of their association with risk-taking and rebellion. However, they are also considered to require protection as a result of their vulnerability (Bessant, 2011, p. 64). This vulnerability or innocence is a cause for hope and optimism, but only if their deviant impulses can be repressed by social norms. The dominant cultural narrative of youth as transition legitimises young people’s exclusion through two narratives about violence. The first is a narrative of risk to society, the second is a narrative of vulnerability. Both of these narratives are exemplified by Wieviorka’s (2005) fifth subject, the ‘survivor-subject’, outlined in the previous chapter. The first narrative is that children and young people are too young to know better than to use violence and as such they pose a risk to society. Violence here is typically thought about in narrow terms, as in physical violence. Young people’s physical violence is socially unacceptable. Wyn and White (1997) trace this negative association between youth and physical violence back to the post-World War II representations of youth in the media. They argue that groups of young people such as the ‘bodgies and widgies’ were misrepresented as a threat to the mainstream on account of their ‘style of dress, their violent behaviour, [and] their drug-taking behaviour’ (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). Wieviorka (2005) reproduces the uncritical connection between youth and violence in his description of ‘fundamental violence’, which he states is a ‘universal anthropological characteristic’ (p. 155) of young people or children. Responsibility is apportioned to adults and parents to teach young people not to use violence. Analogous to symbolic violence, any socially illegitimate use of physical violence by young people reinforces the idea that they require teaching and legitimises young people’s subordination. To achieve adult status young people must learn to avoid using physical violence. This indicates their successful transition away from posing a risk to society through uncontrollable behaviours. The second narrative regarding violence underpinning youth as transition is that young people are vulnerable. They are too young to protect themselves from violence and therefore need to be protected. Wyn and White (1997) describe a tendency for youth studies and popular presentations of youth to position young people as victims. Overlooking their agency this ‘victim status’ has been used to justify ‘welfarist’ interventions into a range of issues including poverty, unemployment and homelessness (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 141). This narrative suggests young people transition to adulthood when they successfully demonstrate the biological and psychological development required for independence and self-protection. However, as described above, paradoxically to graduate into adulthood young people must also simultaneously possess the emotional and cultural capital to navigate the adult world without

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physical violence. Young people are expected to develop a ‘well-organised personality [to] channel into non-violent behaviour’ (Wieviorka, 2005, p. 156). In other words, young people stop being vulnerable when they can physically protect themselves but choose not to. As mentioned above, this successful transition is often represented through the social signifiers of employment, marriage and moving out of home, and as such is highly dependent on social, cultural and political circumstances. I argue these dual narratives of risk and vulnerability to violence in youth justify and legitimise objective and subjective violence done to young people. The oppressive cultural narrative of youth as a transition away from violence can be understood, in Galtung’s (1990) language, as ‘cultural violence’. Cultural violence is a dominant logic or story that makes structural violence appear acceptable and normal. Cultural violence legitimises structural and physical violence. Young people’s social, economic and political exclusion is popularly accepted. This exclusion has many violating effects. Galtung (1969) describes structural violence as ‘show[ing] up as unequal power and consequently as unequal life chances’ (p. 171). Furthermore, it is a type of exploitation that is beyond a clear subject-object relationship. Perhaps one of the clearest forms of structural violence perpetrated against young people in Australia is the school-to-work transition that is legitimised through the cultural narrative of youth as transition within education and employment systems.

3.2.2 The Structural Violence of Education-Employment Transitions After 150 years of compulsory schooling in Australia, Kelly (2010) argues that it is ‘almost an absurdity’ (p. 311) to think about young people in any other terms than as students. Since the 1980s in Australia, young people have been ‘encouraged’ to stay in school in preparation for work through a series of government initiatives (Wyn & Woodman, 2007, p. 504). Young people have been ‘encouraged’ to stay in education by attaching welfare payments to educational engagement (Te Riele, 2006, p. 132). Payments are directed through a parent or guardian rather than going directly to the young person (Department of Social Services, 2015, p. 11). These changes, and the effects of neoliberal policies on school funding and curriculum, identify young people as economically and socially incapable and places them in a dependent and passive non-adult role (Lohmeyer, 2017). The cultural narrative of transition excludes young people from independence, legitimising a structure that forces them into violating passive and dependant roles. The structural violence of the education and welfare systems in Australia dehumanises young people. Their non-adult status is legitimised by a cultural narrative which assumes vulnerability or the inability to contribute to the economy (Lohmeyer, 2017). The failure to contribute to the economy grants them an ‘unemployed’ or ‘student status’ which identifies them as ‘undeserving poor’ (Berns, 2002, p. 38).

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Categorised as undeserving to receive welfare support in their own right, young people enter a cycle of educational engagement that reinforces their positioning as passive and dependent. Adult status is only granted to individuals who can find work. Following the pattern in the narrative of vulnerability in youth, young people are only deemed to be worthy of support to find work when they no longer need it. The ability to find work is not simply a result of personal competencies, but rather a complex interplay of social and cultural factors (i.e. class, age, gender, ethnicity and sexuality) (Germov & Poole, 2015). As a result, withholding adult status and the right to support from young people who do not possess the social and cultural conditions to find work, entrenches power inequalities and produces the unequal life chances characteristic of structural violence. A final consideration in the analysis of the connection between subjective and objective violence is the material effects or, in Galtung’s terms, personal violence resulting from structural violence. The material effects of ‘encouraging’ young people to stay in education until they find work is an extension of the education to employment transition. Extended education to employment transitions and the unavailability of welfare support in Australia has been well documented by the pivotal work of the Life Patterns project (Chesters, Cook, Cuervo, & Wyn, 2018). Life Patterns is longitudinal research on the popularly conceived ‘Generation X’ and ‘Generation Y’ cohorts as they left secondary schooling in 1991 and 2006 respectively. A central and recent finding from this project discovered that stable employment is typically not achieved among the cohorts studied until ten years or more after graduating from university (Cuervo & Wyn, 2016, p. 127). The employment indicators of adulthood are shifting to later in life. The pursuit of these employment goals has resulted in other social indicators of adulthood (such as family and community) being delayed. Cuervo and Wyn (2016) argue that these shifts and the subsequent pressure it places on young people have resulted in material ‘scarring effects’ (p. 127) on young people’s mental health and wellbeing. The unequal life chances and power inequalities (structural violence) resulting from the dominant narrative of youth as transition (cultural violence) shows up in extended employment to work transitions. This has violating and scarring material effects (personal violence) on young people’s lives. Galtung’s framework is useful for illustrating the connection between the layers of subjective (personal violence) and objective (structural and cultural violence). These highlight, in particular, the violence done to young people and the material effects on their lives. However, it is not immediately clear how this results in violence by young people. How young people perceive this connection will be further explored in the subsequent chapter. However, my proposed framework for examining violent performativities begins to frame up Giroux’s account of the violence young people experience in contemporary society. Following his description of the crushing personal, structural and systemic violence directed at young people, Giroux (2014) argues that under neoliberal regimes it is possible to witness the ‘merging of violence and governance’ (p. 226).

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Public institutions and public goods that provide the ‘minimal conditions of democracy’ (p. 226) are being commodified and marketised. Furthermore, the ‘structural violence of predatory capitalism’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 227) undermines human dignity. Rather than being provided with support through secure transitions from education to work, young people are left to the mercy of the market. In a ‘culture of violence, cruelty, and disposability’ (p. 226), young people are ruthlessly culled if they fail to meet the most narrow and impossible standards. This examination of the dual discourses of violence in youth as transition fills out Giroux’s (2014) claims about the ‘merging of violence and governance’ (p. 226). Institutions such as public education are supposed to provide the ‘minimal conditions of democracy’ (p. 226). Transforming education into a system to ‘encourage’ participation through welfare inducements is aptly described as a system of governing violence. The construction of youth as transition and the reconfiguring of the measures of adulthood and worthiness for support into a pathway of subordinating education and delayed employment is a dehumanising and violating system of governing young people’s lives. It is the defunding and dissolution of the idea of education as a public good that is required to provide access to participation in all spheres of life (political, social and economic). My framework for examining violent performativities promotes the consideration of what performativities are made available to young people through the discourses of transition and exclusion and the dissolution of public institutions. Furthermore, how are these performativities made available to young people through governing institutions such as education and welfare systems? I argue that the primary performativity available is that of a subordinate non-adult who is required to prove their worth in a cruel, competitive employment market. In this context, I argue, violence is turned inward as young people are instructed to simply work harder, put off personal and family goals and compromise personal health and wellbeing. The violence done to young people produces material and symbolic self-harming violence done by young people as they enact the available violent (neoliberal) performativities. This conclusion raises further questions, such as, if young people are reflexively aware of this self-violence? Furthermore, to what extent can young people resist these violating performativities? Furlong and Cartmel’s (2006) ‘epistemological fallacy’ is a central idea around which the questions of reflexivity and resistance has been discussed in youth studies.

3.3 The Epistemological Fallacy: Symbolic Violence and Lost Generations The ‘epistemological fallacy’, proposed by Furlong and Cartmel in 2006, continues to be an important idea for understanding young people’s life chances in a rapidly changing world. Furlong and Cartmel (2006) argue that young people might perceive their circumstances to be a product of their individual choices while, for the most

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part, their circumstances are outside of their control. As described above, neoliberal discourses cruelly portray the idea that success is available to any who simply work hard, while in reality chances are significantly shaped by potentially violating circumstances. Furthermore, the idea of transitioning or becoming raises the issue of what young people are encouraged to become (what performativities are available) within a crushing system of competitive individualism. As mentioned earlier in the chapter, the epistemological fallacy has been debated in youth studies regarding the idea of ‘choice biographies’. This debate focusses on the usefulness of ‘conscious’ and ‘unconscious’ determinations of young people’s choice and agency (Farrugia, 2013; Roberts, 2010; Threadgold, 2011; Woodman, 2009; Woodman & Threadgold, 2011, 2014). Some of these scholars have adopted Bourdieu’s frameworks in the hope of overcoming the issues of choice as they argue he rejects the ‘dichotomy of “structure versus agency”’ (France & Haddon, 2014, p. 309). Furthermore, as also mentioned in Chap. 2, France and Threadgold (2015) advocated for the usefulness of the Bourdieusian terms ‘illusio, social gravity, misrecognition, doxa and symbolic violence’ (p. 623) to better understand young people’s decision making. Symbolic violence seems to be an apt description of the central dynamic of the epistemological fallacy; i.e. young people’s belief in having control over their lives when in fact it is largely prescribed by external circumstance. However, the framing of the epistemological fallacy within the pattern of symbolic violence also reinforces the idea that young people are complicit in their own suffering. The logic of symbolic violence suggests that by falsely believing they have individual choice (for example the neoliberal idea that they will succeed if they just work harder), young people are contributing to their own violation, as well as the perpetuation of this logic, even though the system is ‘rigged against them’ (France & Threadgold, 2015, p. 625). Furthermore, it seems reasonable to suggest that this striving in the face of uncontrollable external forces might contribute to the ‘scarring effects’ (Cuervo & Wyn, 2016, p. 127) on young people’s mental and physical wellbeing. In addition to this controversy of complicity in Bourdieu’s (2001) work, these aforementioned debates in youth studies and their focus on young people’s consciousness, unconsciousness and reflexivity underemphasize the violence and violation of the epistemological fallacy. Moreover, an underdeveloped understanding of the violence done to young people through epistemological fallacy results in an underdeveloped understanding of how the epistemological fallacy might create violence done by young people. Re-examining the epistemological fallacy with a focus on violence facilitates the consideration that violence and violation is not simply a result of the power dynamics that produce the epistemological fallacy, but rather positions violence as a key mechanism in the construction and continuation of the epistemological fallacy.

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3.3.1 Precarity and Violence MacDonald (2016) illustrates the kind of situation in which the system is ‘rigged against’ (France & Threadgold, 2015, p. 625) young people despite their hard work. MacDonald describes the experiences of a ‘lost generation’ of young people in Europe who are ensnared in precarious employment. He argues that young workers in Europe are often not simply unemployed, by rather underemployed in low paid and precarious work. These young people are often ‘over-qualified’ for their current work and were seeking more permanent work than is afforded by the government provided training schemes (MacDonald, 2016, p. 157). In the UK those affected included not just working-class young people, but also included middle-class young people. MacDonald argues these young people are ‘trapped’ (p. 158) as this kind of precarious work does not typically lead to more secure employment. Wieviorka (2005) argues violence is much more likely in the kinds of precarious conditions MacDonald (2016) describes in which young people feel oppressed and exploited. Examining the lives of young people in France, Wieviorka describes the collapse of the structuring conflict between social classes at the end of the industrial era (p. 14). This structuring conflict, in Wieviorka description, is not necessarily physically violent. Rather, he argues that the structuring conflict between social classes prevents physical violence. Wieviorka contends that as clear class divisions collapse, so too does the explicit identity provided by relationships of domination. In turn, there is a loss of a sense of doing ‘socially-valuable work’ (p. 14) and being useful. Under these conditions, Wieviorka argues, individuals ‘blame themselves for their failures and existential difficulties’ (p. 14). Wieviorka is describing a shift in social structures that produce the available performativities which appear to be the result of individual choices but are, in reality, beyond individual control. Mirroring the dynamic of the epistemological fallacy, Wieviorka argues young people are likely to take personal responsibility rather than see their situation as a structural issue. Wieviorka’s (2005) point comes in the context of his broader argument that modern individualism has removed the historical conflict between classes with its ‘blatant inequalities and injustices’ (p. 16). In contrast, Giroux (2014) argues that blatant inequalities still exist and are increasing (p. 224). In spite of these contradictory views, the point about available subjective identities is still important. Devoid of the organising conflict, Wieviorka contends, individuals lose a sense of identity or solidarity in their community. He argues that the ‘problems of social domination are replaced by personal problems and personal fragility’ (p. 14). Alternatively, when the explicit system of class division is replaced by neoliberal discourses of personal responsibility, people interpret their situation as a product of their choices rather than larger social issues. When the dominant cultural narrative changes from class warfare to competitive individualism, so to do the available performativities change. Contemporary neoliberal performativities not only offer young people violating, precarious material realities, but also, as Wieviorka illustrates, the self-blaming logic promotes the enactment of violent alternatives.

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Wieviorka (2005) argues that ‘[o]ne of the greatest lessons’ from studying young people involved in rioting and violence in France is that their ‘behaviour is an expression of their resentment, of their feeling of non-recognition’ (p. 14). Physical violence, in Wieviorka’s account, is a symptom or an outpouring of the collapse in the subjective positions provided by social conflict. Young people’s lives are no longer structured by an explicit social conflict that (while exploitative in itself) provides a strong sense of collective identity. Instead, neoliberal society promotes a ‘culture of violence, cruelty, and disposability’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 226) in which young people feel individually responsible for their oppressed position even though it is beyond their control.

3.3.2 Trivialising Institutional Violence Wieviorka’s (2005) analysis focusses on physical (subjective) violence. As a result, his work masks both the violence of inequalities in the former class conflict, and the objective systems of violence in the later post-industrial era. In Wieviorka’s theory, violence is a product of the social context, rather than also part of the social context. In contrast, the resentment and non-recognition experienced by young people in a precarious post-industrial landscape are described by France and Threadgold (2015, p. 623) as symbolic violence. France and Threadgold recognise the objective systems of symbolic violence that structure and produce the context for subjective violence. This recognition reveals a broader cycle of violence that repositions young people’s physical violence from isolated symptomatic behaviours to a product of a system of subjective and objective violence. As mentioned earlier, Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) similarly argue that ‘significant insights are gained by viewing violence as a social process’ (p. 111). Henriksen & Bengtsson’s participants frequently told stories of violence in multiple spaces, including education and welfare institutions. One participant, Sara, described encountering physical violence in her home, from her boyfriend and in school from teachers (p. 109). These experiences taught her that ‘she was “that type who gets beaten”’ (p. 109). Others describe learning to fight while in the child protection system and transferring these new skills and knowledge to the street or back home: ‘“[y]ou have to learn [to engage in violence]. That’s how it was at home, and that’s how it is now [in residential care]”’ (p. 109). Another young person states that she was no longer afraid of being strangled by her stepfather after being in care, as she has learnt to defend herself (p. 110). Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) describe the surprise expressed by some participants at discovering that actions such as threats, unwanted restraint and throwing items at others were illegal (p. 107). They argue these forms of violence have been trivialised due to their commonality in young people’s lives. In Henriksen and Bengtsson’s interviews, the young people take personal responsibility for their physical safety. They describe having to learn to protect themselves in care or from family members. In terms of their immediate survival this makes

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some sense. Their physical safety has become their individual responsibility because ‘that’s how it is now’ (p. 109). However, like in the case of domestic violence, as outlined in the previous chapter (Galtung, 1969, p. 171), a single case of child abuse might be logically interpreted as an instance of physical violence. However, the systemic and widespread nature of domestic violence and child abuse suggest the pattern of structural violence. In the case of abuse of children in welfare, there is a culture of violence against young people underpinned by a long history of child abuse in institutional care (Bessant, 2011, p. 56; Daly, 2014; Ferguson, 2006). Hence, these young people’s acceptance of individual responsibility to enact physical violence to protect themselves reflects the belief that their circumstances are a result of their individual choices, in spite of the existence of objective violence that is beyond their control. Examining the epistemological fallacy within contemporary experiences of violence through the lens of violent performativities draws attention away from problematic individual behaviours. It also avoids nostalgic appeals to the prevention of physical violence through explicit, structured conflicts and class inequalities. Instead, this approach recognises the dynamic between subjective and objective violence and the eruption of physical violence as a result of the production of violent performativities through structural, cultural and symbolic systems of violence. Furthermore, this approach facilitates an understanding that violence does not appear or disappear, as per Foucault’s (1979) argument, through the process of civilisation. Rather, violence is transformed across spatial and temporal dimensions. Countering Foucault’s (1979) thesis, the explicit violence of inequalities in the industrial era is not abandoned for simply more efficient forms of power, it is transformed into more efficient and invisible forms of violence. The epistemological fallacy viewed through this lens highlights the violence of the logic of competitive individualism. It observes the tendency for young people to blame themselves for their circumstance in spite of the social and cultural factors beyond their control that shape their lives. Self-blaming feeds a cycle of symbolic violence and produces the conditions for eruptions of subjective violence. As Giroux (2014) argues, the promises of education, employment and security that were afforded to previous generations are no longer available to young people today. Instead, young people are abandoned to the cruelty of the market and personal responsibility. The dominant performativities available to young people offer subordinate and stigmatising subjectivities or physically violent expressions for feelings of frustration and non-recognition resulting from precarity and economic dependence. Young people have the capacity to reflexively challenge these dominant narratives, to resist objective violence and respond creatively to available performativities. However, young people’s reflexive capacity doesn’t fully explain the connection between violating individual logics and how young people become violent. In contrast, focussing on the systems of objective and subjective violence suggest that violating logics (cultures and symbols) legitimise violating structural inequalities. In turn, objective operations of violence produce violating performative subjectivities which young people enact and resist.

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3.4 Conclusion In this chapter, I placed the dynamics of subjective and objective violence at the centre of a re-examination of two central youth studies ideas: youth as a transition and the epistemological fallacy. I argue this provides a framework to conceptualise the connection between subjective violence enacted by young people and the objective violence to young people. Giroux’s (2014) assertion that young people are confronted by ever more diverse forms of violence can be identified in the cultural legitimation of youth as a period of transition and the violating effects of the epistemological fallacy on young people’s lives. The cruelty of market and individualising logics can be reframed as interconnected systems of symbolic, structural and cultural violence. These objective systems of violence produce performativities which young people enact and resist. The cultural violence of youth as a transition justifies young people’s structural exclusion, subordination and dehumanisation through education, employment and welfare systems. This appears to have scarring effects on their health and wellbeing. Furthermore, the symbolic violence of the epistemological fallacy produces self-blaming logics and stigmatising performativities. Moreover, when young people express their resentment and frustration through physical violence, this socially unacceptable behaviour has the effect of further legitimising their exclusion. The application of the emerging theories of the sociology of violence to the experiences of young people repositions the conversation about how young people become violent away from violence as an inherent trait of youth or young people. Instead, this approach reveals a system of interconnected subjective and objective violence that produces violent performativities for young people to enact or resist. This approach suggests young people become violent as they enact the available subjective positions, and in some ways can contribute to the creation of the objective undercurrents of violence. There are few opportunities for young people to express their identity outside of the available performativities. However, Watson argues distinguishing between enactment and internalised beliefs reveals the inherent instability of these performativities and makes resistance possible. In the following chapters, I dive into the experiences of the young people in my research of enacting and resisting violent performativities utilising the interconnected sociology of subjective and objective violence. Chapter 4 focusses on the question of how young people come to enact violent performativities. Chapter 5 undertakes the opposing question of how young people resist violent performativities. In these chapters, the centring of violence and its distinction from power is tested, drawing from Marxist, Poststructuralist and Interactionist theories of power. These chapters also examine the complex interplay between the position of victim and perpetrator of violence. In Chap. 6 I return to young people’s contemporary experience of violence and its uniquely neoliberal nature, and consider in more detail the effects of marketisation of institutions and services and provided to young people.

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Galtung, J. (1990). Cultural violence. Journal of peace research, 27(3), 291–305. Germov, J., & Poole, M. (2015). Public Sociology: An Introduction to Australian Society (3rd ed.). Crows Nest, New South Wales: Allen & Unwin. Giroux, H. A. (2014). Resisting youth and the crushing state violence of neoliberalism. In A. Kamp & P. Kelly (Eds.), A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century (pp. 223–239). Boston: Brill. Henriksen, A.-K., & Bengtsson, T. T. (2018). Trivializing violence: Marginalized youth narrating everyday violence. Theoretical Criminology, 22(1), 99–115. https://doi.org/10.1177/136248061 6671995. Kelly, P. (2010). Youth as an Artefact of Expertise: Problematizing the Practice of Youth Studies in an Age of Uncertainty. Journal of Youth Studies, 3(3), 301–315. https://doi.org/10.1080/713 684381. Kelly, P. (2011). An untimely future for youth studies? Youth Studies Australia, 30(3), 47. Kumsa, M. K., Ng, K., Chambon, A., Maiter, S., & Yan, M. C. (2013). Rethinking youth violence and healing. Journal of Youth Studies, 16(7), 847–863. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2013. 763919. Lohmeyer, B. A. (2017). Youth and their workers: The interacting subjectification effects of neoliberal social policy and NGO practice frameworks. Journal of Youth Studies, 20(12), 1263–1276. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2017.1321109. MacDonald, R. (2016). Precarious work: The growing precarité of youth. In A. Furlong (Ed.), Routledge Handbook of Youth and Young Adulthood (2nd ed.). Oxon: Routledge. Pickard, S. (2019). Politics, Protest and Young People: Political Participation in the 21st Century. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Roberts, S. (2010). Misrepresenting ‘choice biographies’?: A reply to Woodman. Journal of Youth Studies, 13(1), 137–149. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260903233720. Sercombe, H. (2003). Reflections on youth violence. Youth Studies Australia, 22(1), 25–30. Sercombe, H. (2010). Youth Work Ethics. London: SAGE Publications. Te Riele, K. (2006). Youth ‘at risk’: Further marginalizing the marginalized? Journal of education policy, 21(2), 129–145. https://doi.org/10.1080/02680930500499968. Threadgold, S. (2011). Should I pitch my tent in the middle ground? On ‘middling tendency’, Beck and inequality in youth sociology. Journal of Youth Studies, 14(4), 381–393. https://doi.org/10. 1080/13676261.2010.538042. von Holdt, K. (2013). The violence of order, orders of violence: Between Fanon and Bourdieu. Current sociology, 61(2), 112–131. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456492. Walby, S. (2013). Violence and society: Introduction to an emerging field of sociology. Current sociology, 61(2), 95–111. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456478. Watson, J. (2018). Youth Homelessness and Survival Sex: Intimate Relationships and Gendered Subjectivities. New York: Routledge. Watts, R. (2013). On fictions and wicked problems: towards a social democratic criminology project in the age of neo-liberalism. International Journal for Crime, Justice and Social Democracy, 2(2), 113–132. https://doi.org/10.5204/ijcjsd.v2i2.103. White, R., & Wyn, J. (2011). Youth and Society: Exploring the social dynamics of youth experience (2nd ed.). South Melbourne, Victoria: Oxford University Press. Wieviorka, M. (2005). Violence: A New Approach (D. Macey, Trans.). London: SAGE. Wieviorka, M. (2014). The sociological analysis of violence: new perspectives. The Sociological Review, 62(S2), 50–64. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-954X.12191. Woodman, D. (2009). The mysterious case of the pervasive choice biography: Ulrich Beck, structure/agency, and the middling state of theory in the sociology of youth. Journal of Youth Studies, 12(3), 243–256. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676260902807227. Woodman, D., & Threadgold, S. (2011). The future of the sociology of youth. Youth Studies Australia, 30(3), 8–12. Woodman, D., & Threadgold, S. (2014). Critical Youth Studies in an Individualized and Globalized World: Making the Most of Bourdieu and Beck. A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century (pp. 552–566). Brill: Leiden, Boston.

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Chapter 4

Enacting Youthful Violence

The narrative of youth as a period of transition, of becoming, is hegemonic. Central to this narrative is the idea that young people shed their ‘animalistic and uncontrollable’ (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19) violent attributes as they graduate into adulthood. I discussed the prevalence of this discourse in previous chapters. The routinized association between young people/youth and gangs, risk-taking, property damage, etc. has been challenged, particularly by academics within youth studies (Kumsa, Ng, Chambon, Maiter, & Yan, 2013, p. 89; Sercombe, 2003, p. 26; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 52). However, typically the challenge to the association of youth with violence entails arguing that there are comparatively low levels of violence within youth. This chapter takes a different approach to the question of youth violence by closely examining young people’s experiences of violence in youth and paying attention to the violating performative subjectivities made available to young people. Rather than denying young people are violent, I am interested in how they become violent. To challenge the idea that violence is inherent to youth and young people, I look at how young people come to enact violent performativities. It is easy to find stories of violent young people if you begin with the assumptions of the popular conception of youth as a period of risk and violence. In this regard, my research is no exception. It is easy to listen to young people’s stories or read the transcripts of interviews and find stories like Addison’s. Addison describes a ‘drunken mistake’ that results in her being charged with ‘attempted murder’. Addison: Yeah, I don’t really remember heaps what happened, I just know by footage. Got done for attempted murder, got dropped down to… I don’t know, aggravated assault with a weapon. And some other things… I don’t know. I can’t even remember what I was charged with in the end.

Addison talks about her experiences in juvenile detention and the ongoing effects of this drunken mistake on her life. This kind of narrative that emphasises the role of drugs or alcohol in violence is common in violence prevention materials (World Health Organisation, 2015), but is only one way of hearing and understanding her

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story. In his interview, Owen relates a situation that has elements of the influence of another popular anti-youth violence message. In Owen’s story the popular narrative is the effect of peer pressure on young people. Owen: Like umm… nothing to brag about but I did split this cunt open. He was really… he wasn’t exactly the nicest person … He was mouthing off real bad so I walked up to him and cracked him. He has eight stitches in his eye and broke his nose in two places. Me: Can I ask a bit about what motivated that? Like, what was that about for you? Owen: I don’t know I guess it was just like. There was a whole bunch of people there. And they were saying ‘Oh you wouldn’t hit him. Rah rah. Rah rah’. So, I was just like. ‘Fuck ya’. Bang. My mate ran back and was like ‘you fucken hit him!’, and I was like ‘Fucken oath I did.’ Fucked him up. He hit the ground instantly. Looked up and half his face was covered in blood. Fucken floored him hard. So, I went ‘oh, he is fucked’.

The influence of peers and social connection is a strong narrative in mainstream violence prevention materials (Department for Education, 2019). More in-depth analysis of young people stories might also detect the dynamics of identity formation and the influence of ideas like hegemonic masculinity (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). Tristan: And if it is a young female, well there is not going to be any hesitation. They could be from the age of four to eighty-four. It doesn’t matter. If a female is getting abused by a man I am going to stand up and be like ‘Oi what the fuck, fuck off. Leave them alone that is a fucking girl.’ Pardon my language, but just the way I was raised. Like the way someone is brought up can change their attitude for the better or worse. Yeah and I was raised to believe a man should never hit a woman and I was always told never to idly stand by and watch a male hit a female. I mean, and some of the shit I have seen growing up kinda persuaded me to the point of never stand back and watch a mate bash a female.

The effect of substance use, group identity and gendered social norms to explain violent behaviours has been the focus of significant study (Braithwaite & Daly, 1994; Eriksson, 2013; Sercombe, 2003; Walby, Towers, & Francis, 2014; Wieviorka, 2005; World Health Organisation, 2015). This book is focussed on understanding the connection between youth and violence through examining the systems of subjective and objective violence, and how this system shapes the contemporary experience of youth and constructs violent performativities. As such, this chapter carefully attends to stories like Addison’s, Owen’s and Tristan’s and centres young people’s voices and understanding of violence. Each of their stories features in this chapter, and others, and are re-examined through understanding the subjective violence in their stories as a product of subjective and objective systems of violence. As I have unpacked in previous chapters, the historical tendency in sociology to conflate violence with power has sidelined the study of violence. This chapter centres violence by examining participants stories with a view to elucidating the violent performativities available to them. One of the challenges of this approach is to listen for the violating contexts of these stories and recognise the conscious and unconscious enactment of cultural narratives of violence without excusing responsibility for personal choices. This chapter begins by unpacking participants’ reflections on their experiences and the nature of violence. This is divided into two sections. The first section considers the more subjective and personal forms of violence. These more visible forms of

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violence were a common starting point for the conversation with participants. The second section follows the continuation of the conversation as participants reflected more on objective forms of violence. Participants reflections will be unpacked as they are presented and compared to existing theory. This produces a messy and complex picture of young people’s experiences of violence in which violence appears to be everywhere and in everything. Avoiding the temptation to provide structure where there is none (Law, 2004, p. 15), in the subsequent section I suggest the messiness is part of the reality of examining young people’s experiences of violence. This messiness has previously been overlooked a result of the historical tendency to conceptualise violence as a part of a system of power. Finally, I argue that by attending to and centring the stories of young people, as well as understanding subjective and objective violence as an interconnected system, reveals youth to be a period characterised by violence. However, counter to the popular narrative in which young people are the source of violence in youth, I argue youth can be understood as a phenomenon constructed by systems of violence through which young people enact available violent performativities.

4.1 The Availability of Subjective Violence The young people in this project describe their experiences and understanding of violence in a multiplicity of ways. As I unpack, violence in its many forms is for many of these young people a ubiquitous feature of modernity. However, it is also for many of them a mundane experience. Often participants talk about violence in common and tangible terms. As the discussion continues, their experiences of violence and its causes became more complex. Cameron: Um, well obviously there is physical violence, so hitting and all that.

Cameron is a young man who was removed from his parents at an early age and had spent most of his life in child protection. He is 18 years of age at the time of the interview. He is living with his girlfriend and no longer in the child protection system. He tells stories of living in shared accommodation with other young people and with rostered support workers. He talks about his ability to get along with the support workers and make a home-like environment. He also talks about how he notices other young people struggling to make this living arrangement work. He describes his housemates being moved on when their behaviour becomes problematic or violent towards him or the workers. Violence, as Cameron describes it as physical force, is highly visible and its effects are recognisable. Furthermore, physical violence typically offers a clear victimperpetrator dynamic. Violence, as Cameron describes it, connects with the narrow definition ‘from the Latin violentia, meaning ‘vehemence’, a passionate and uncontrolled force’ (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 194). Cameron sees himself primarily as a victim rather than a perpetrator of violence. However, in other participants’ experiences of violence the victim-perpetrator dichotomy is not as clear.

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4 Enacting Youthful Violence Owen: I did a lot of self-harm when I was in care… When I wasn’t allowed to see my parents… That really fucked me off. Yeah, I heard about it and know a lot of people that did it. They said it was like a release. It is really. I don’t know. It’s just a, you feel calm. Once you have done it.

In Owen’s description of self-harm, the categories of victim and perpetrator overlap. His experience is of being both victim and perpetrator. Owen is both the target and agent of the violence. He is both violated and violator. Violence in the form of self-harm fits the pattern of passionate force with the intent to do harm. However, this description of self-harm seems incomplete without acknowledging the element of ‘violare’ or ‘infringement’ (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 194). Owen is the actor who is using force, but he is also the victim who is being infringed. His intent is to harm, but also to be harmed. Emphasising the experiences of violation prioritises the perspective and experience of being a victim. Owen’s position as victim and perpetrator are important to understand the act and the desired outcome (the release) of self-harm. While tangible and physical, self-harm blurs the lines of the subject and object of violence. It is a compacted embodiment of violence. It is inwardly focussed, yet its external visibility means it is not fully internalised. Another participant’s (Jackson) expression of frustration blurs the assumed categories of violence in a different way. Jackson is also in the child protection system, and at the time of the interview is living in group accommodation. Jackson: I just get really angry and I unleash it when someone pisses me off… Cos it’s easy, no one gets angry at you that way… So, you take it out on other things and you don’t end up hurting anyone you care about… But I somehow still do… I have screaming matches with my mum.

Jackson describes a kind of verbal abuse (screaming matches) that while not a physical force, is violating. This forceful non-physical attack doesn’t present a major challenge to the dominant conception of violence. Verbal abuse fits the category of passionate force with the intent to harm. However, it does pose questions about the intimacy of violence as well as avenues for the expression of frustration. The co-existence of violence and intimacy appears contradictory. However, Hearn’s (2013) study of domestic violence suggests that the presence of love and affection might reinforce the use of violence. Hearn (2013, p. 156) suggests that, paradoxically, intimacy might be vital in the conceptualisation of violation within domestic violence. Hearn is not suggesting that the intimacy of domestic violence is a private affair. Rather, the emotional intimacy of love and affection reinforce the use of violence. Violence is used as a means to maintain and control the relationship. One participant in Hearn’s study describes violence as a way of ‘keeping her, by you know, keeping her in check’ (Hearn, 2013, p. 156). Violence can be understood as a means of control. However, more than just a means for control, it is an enactment of available gendered performativity. Domestic violence, such as in Jackson’s reflection, highlights the complexities and blurs the categories of individual responsibility and discursive forces. Hearn (2013, p. 153) argues that the founding fathers of sociology (i.e. Weber (1946) Marx and Engels (2014), and Durkheim (2005)) were not attuned to gendered experiences

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of violence. Historically intimate and gendered forms of violence, such as domestic violence, were ‘less often understood as structural phenomena’ (Hearn, 2013, p. 154). In contrast, Feminist theory affirms the responsibility of individuals (particularly men) for violence, while also refuting liberal individualistic discourses that promote the idea of autonomous rational agents operating outside of structural and discursive forces (Hearn, 2013, p. 160). In other words, verbal abuse is the observable action of an individual, while also being the result of (in particular gendered) social norms. Furthermore, Jackson describes an uncontrollability to his violence that results in unintended harm. Historically narrow framings of violence ignore the influence of social structures beyond the control of individuals. As the conversation continued with participants, systemic and structural forces that shaped and obscured violence increasingly became the focus.

4.1.1 Inequalities and Fighting with Your Body Historically violence has been popularly conceptualised in narrow terms which locate it as subjective physical and verbal means predominately employed by the poor (Hearn, 2013, p. 163; Walby, 2013, p. 96). As Sercombe puts it: ‘Poor people fight with their bodies. Rich people fight with their money, with lawsuits or hostile take overs’ (Sercombe, 2003, p. 27). Here poor can mean economically deprived, however, it might also include an element of low cultural capital (Bourdieu, 2008). Owen describes self-harm as an outlet for his frustration at not being able to see his parents. He enacts a form of violence on his body that he has access to, in the context of no other means to achieve his goal (i.e. seeing his parents). He lacks the capital to achieve his goals, as such he fights with his body. There is an additional layer here on top of Sercombe’s where Owen is both using his body to fight, and also using force on (fighting with or against) his body. A lack of access to economic capital is a theme in other participants’ understanding of the conditions that promote violence. Nathan: Yeah. ‘Cos like, there is the upper class of people who have everything they need. And then there is the people below who don’t have anything. And instead of climbing their way out of there it is easier to just take off the one above… ‘Cos you know, but that’s what happens with the loop of poverty. ‘Cos if everybody had money then there wouldn’t really be crime, you know? Those crimes are all for money.

Nathan has experience in the juvenile justice system. During his interview he talks about several incidents involving physical assaulting other young people, monetary fines for breaking the law and physical altercations with police. Nathan also talks about his experiences of living with the financial consequences of his father’s gambling addiction. The above excerpt from Nathan’s interview points to structural causes of crime and violence. His reflection fits with the idea that young people from lower classes will enact physical violence as the means or performativity available to them (i.e. poor people fight with their bodies). When thought about in this way, it is unsurprising that working-class young men are regularly identified as a (physically) violent population.

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Nathan’s description of the ‘loop of poverty’ also strongly resonates with a Marxist class analysis. Nathan describes two groups in society, first those ‘who have everything’ (i.e. the bourgeoisie who control the means of production) and second the people who ‘don’t have anything’ (i.e. the proletariat who can only sell their labour). This unequal relationship of oppression is the central dynamic in Marx’s analysis of capitalism and represents ‘more or less veiled civil war, raging within existing society’ (Marx & Engels, 2014, p. 24). The logical conclusion for this war, according to Marx, is ‘open revolution, and where the violent over-throw of the bourgeoisie lays the foundation for the sway of the proletariat’ (Marx & Engels, 2014, p. 24). As described in Chap. 2, Wieviorka (2005) argues this structuring conflict has collapsed in the post-industrial era. Without this explicit class conflict, young people are left with the violent performativities available through a cruel market logic. The result is individuals blaming themselves for situations beyond their control. However, this class conflict has not collapsed in Nathan’s experience. Rather, its continued existence is his explanation for violence and crime. In line with the class conflict Nathan describes, another participant (Mia) shares that she ‘…used to go out and roll people for their money’. After a series of charges for robbery and assault she spent time in juvenile detention. Mia shares her experience and understanding of what she calls the ‘criminal mind’. Mia: Yeah I grew up around a bunch of criminals and stuff. And yeah that’s all I heard you know? I’m going to go do this to make money. I’m going to go do that to make money. Sell this to get money. It was just all about money in everyone’s eyes. Umm, that’s about it. Oh drugs, alcohol. Yeah… its money to like I suppose help out your family or something if they’re struggling or to survive. To pay people to stay in their houses and stuff. When you are on the run or you know to go buy some new clothes so you know so you can disguise yourself and stuff or just anything really. Drivers, pay taxis and stuff. Just to get around, like day to day. That’s pretty much how they live.

Mia’s and Nathan’s experiences don’t appear to reflect the collapse of class conflict. Rather their experiences better reflect Giroux’s (2014) argument that young people are facing increasing economic inequalities. In either case, poor young people are essentially left with their bodies to enact resistance in the form of subjective violence. However, as I discussed in Chap. 3, Giroux’s description better reflects the insidious cycle of symbolic violence. The veiled civil war Marx describes appears to have become even more obscured as collective identities are replaced by the neoliberal discourse of individual responsibility. Bourdieu criticises Marxist theories for overlooking this ‘soft’ violence, as ‘symbolic violence can do what political and police violence can do, but more efficiently’ (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 167). Instead of aiming the violence at an oppressor, the oppressed internalise violence in blaming themselves for situations that are beyond their control. The physical violence Nathan and Mia describe is considered an illegitimate means for creating change for citizens in Western societies. Weber’s (1946) often cited reframe confines the ‘legitimate use of physical force’ in Western democracies as a means that is monopolised by the state. It is the state alone that has the right to use violence on its citizens or the citizens of other countries. This idea is connected to social contract theory that is often associated with enlightenment philosophers like

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Rousseau, Hobbes and Locke, but also modern philosophers such as Rawls (Hinman, 2012, p. 283; Pollock, 2016, p. 124). To gain the benefits of peaceful co-existence and the long-term benefits of collective safety, individuals surrender some of their freedom (Hayes & Prenzler, 2015, p. 256; Hinman, 2012, p. 283). However, Mia and Nathan’s reflections offer a challenge to these fundamental ideas underpinning Western democracy. Rather than peaceful co-existence and security, their experiences point to violating inequalities built into the structure of society. This is what Zizek (2008) describes as ‘objective violence’. Other participants also challenged the assumed peaceful nature of society. Furthermore, in light of economic inequalities, one participant (John) questions the legitimacy of the state to use violence. John: Our investment in war is essentially robbing the poor of what they deserve. So, coming out of my history with, um, doing some activism with World Vision I then kind of saw a bit of a connection between the incredible dollars that we are spending on war, and the incredible dollars we are not spending on the poor. And how these things seem to be really linked.

John is involved in anti-war activism. Yet at one time he had considered a career in the defence forces. John describes his experience working for World Vision as revealing to him the ethical issues of economic inequality, as well as how this led him to reconsider the cost of war and how else that money might be spent. John also talked about how war and violence is justified in his culture. In John’s, and the other participants’, reflections violence and its causes have a greater meaning and origin than the narrow parameters of subjective violence enacted by individuals. Instead it is connected, defined and hidden in broader social systems. Dave: And I guess that being, because the system that rewards you for being upper middle class and white and educated. And if you are not that therefore we don’t know what to do with you… you don’t have the same opportunities that someone who is rich, white and educated male might have.

Like John, Dave is involved in anti-war activism. In his interview, Dave also talks about his experiences of witnessing the cost of economic inequality through volunteering in developing countries. These experiences include volunteering in an orphanage in Thailand as well as peacekeeping and advocacy in Palestine. In his reflection, Dave adds layers of gender and ethnicity to the social inequalities identified by other participants. He identifies the effects of social structures in reducing people’s opportunities or life chances. This kind of violation reflects Galtung’s (1969) notion of structural violence. Observable forms of violence (i.e. physical and verbal) were a tangible beginning point for the conversation with participants about violence. However, their intimate and internalising experiences of violence challenges the tangibility of violence with a clear subject-object relationship. In addition, participants experiences of subjective violence and its causes highlight the social inequalities and structures that legitimised or stigmatised its use. Violence is enacted in ways that reflect the capital and subjective positions available to individuals by systems beyond their control.

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4.2 The Complexity of Objective Violence In the above excerpts, participants’ experiences of violence include intimate, personal, physical and verbal forms. Unpacking these forms of violence further reveal structural forces, gender, ethnicity and class, that legitimise or obscure some forms of violence. However, discussing violence and its causes in non-physical forms is difficult. In their research Henriksen and Bengtsson (2018) discover violence is a ‘slippery and evasive’ (p. 106) idea. Moreover, Bufacchi (2005) argues approaching violence in this way can expand the scope of enquiry to include an unmanageable array of social ills. Hailey: I think it’s like everyone has a different understanding to what extent violence is. And I think in different circumstances an action can be violent or not. So, like breaking into a car I would find violent. But breaking a window of Lockheed-Martin… I wouldn’t necessarily see as violent. Um, so I think context is key. Um, obviously physical violence is to another human or animal, um, or you know using a weapon I would just write off as violent no matter what the context.

Hailey explains that she has been involved in political activism for almost four years. She talks about doing research in her final year of secondary school on Australia’s involvement in the war in Afghanistan and in particular regarding Pine Gap (a United States defence facility on Australian soil). This project was the start of her interest in Australia’s involvement in international wars. For Hailey, violence is a complex idea. She describes the criminal act of breaking into a car as violent. However, civil disobedience in the form of ‘breaking a window of Lockheed-Martin’ might not be violent in the right context. Violence is, as von Holdt (2013) describes, ‘slippery, changing its shape and meaning, sustaining democracy and corroding it’ (p. 118). The passionate physical force required for property damage, if considered civil disobedience, can be positioned as a non-violent expression of democratic participation. In contrast, Grinberg argues for a ‘physical and concrete’ (2013, p. 208) understanding of violence to make it distinct from symbolic action in a political sphere. In Grinberg’s (2013) view, the space for political solutions ‘may be opened by recognition and closed by violence’ (p. 208). In his framework, civil disobedience via breaking a window at Lockheed-Martin, would corrode democracy by countering the carefully balanced power conditions required for political dialogue. Von Holt’s investigation of union violence in South Africa explores the potential for revolutionary violence as a ‘cleansing force’ for democracy (von Holdt, 2013, p. 116). While he argues that violence is an important tool to challenge unjust power structures, he also concedes that violence exercised by the marginalized and disempowered often proves to be counterproductive to their democratic cause. He also discovers that his participants readily put aside moral frameworks in the context of violent political change. Violence that is objectionable in a ‘normal’ circumstance, is acceptable in the context of revolution. Von Holt (2013) argues that often inadequate attention is paid to the ‘dark side’ of violence. In both von Holt’s research

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and Hailey’s reflection passionate physical force is a nuanced problem as it is both useful and corrosive for democratization. A physical act can be constructed as both violent and not violent, depending on the social and political context.

4.2.1 The Violence of Consumption The association of physical violence with particular groups (i.e. the poor) is a common theme in Dave, Mia and Nathan’s above reflections. Furthermore, these reflections suggest inequality in itself contains an element of violation. The ‘loop of poverty’ can be reframed as structural violence as it reduces life chances of the poor and violates their human rights as ‘the people below don’t have anything’. Cohen (2016), drawing from Marx, argues that human rights popularly conceived are simply a ‘class expression’ and typically reflect those ‘right[s] needed by economic agents in a free market economy’ (p. 156). Furthermore, Cohen argues that as a result of the essential division between the dispossessed and those who control production in capitalism, that both the bourgeois and the proletariat become ‘distorted versions of humans, alienated, divided, torn within themselves, and between one another’ (p. 156). In this sense, the inequalities between classes violates both the poor and the rich. In this line of reasoning both the capitalist system and the popular conception of human rights, are inherently violent. Nathan’s earlier reflection identifies violence as a means that is associated with particular groups (i.e. the poor). However, his reflection also suggests inequality in itself is a form of violence. Similarly, other young people in this research describe violence within capitalist systems. Anna: … I see it more as an acknowledgement, like, ah, acknowledging the violence of our systems and structures of our society that we participate in those. And, um, you know, are probably dependant on those. So even in that, even in just existing, it’s like a violent existence …. Um, because you know, the things that we consume and wear and, you know, if you look at where they have come from, you know, there is probably a lot of violence involved in the process.

Like other young people in this study, Anna is involved in anti-war activism. She adopts nonviolence as more than a protest tactic. In her words, nonviolence is ‘…a daily choice or something that you live out’. In addition to informing ‘how I relate to people, and the choices that I make’, for Anna ‘being an adherent of nonviolence isn’t that I am nonviolent, it is the acknowledging that I am really violent’. One of the ways she acknowledges her own violence is in the capitalist systems in which she participates. This includes, for example, her consumption practices that are reliant on exploitative labour practices. Her enactment of violence through the available capitalist performativities is unavoidable within what Giroux describes as ‘the structural violence of predatory capitalism’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 227).

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4.2.2 Violent Institutions Anna identifies her participation in violent systems that exploit others for her benefit were in part a personal choice, but were also beyond her individual control. She laments her complicity with unique clarity: ‘even in just existing, it’s like a violent existence’. Violent economic systems were not the only systems that participants describe being inculcated into. Hailey: Yeah, I have really loved how this group makes decisions and it is mostly based on consensus. Otherwise democratic voting. And I think it has been a key part because it has given everybody a voice. Um, and even though it can seem like a really small thing, but in other circles often most voices are left unheard and that can in a way be seen as violent because people are dominating and often, um, you know, in some settings there is often male dominance just because that is how we have kind of grown up in our society.

Hailey’s experience of consensus decision-making processes among nonviolent activists provide a contrast to the dominant competitive masculine culture that she says people have ‘grown up in our society’. Like Anna’s concern for economic systems, Hailey’s identifies violence in participating in competitive political systems with dominating masculine voices. Her concern mirrors Bourdieu’s (2001) description of the imperceptible domination of social groups through ‘…symbolic channels of communication and cognition (more precisely misrecognition), recognition, or even feeling’ (p. 1). Growing up in the habitus of masculine domination of politics, without Hailey’s experience of an alternative, produces a complicity cycle of symbolic violence whereby minority voices accept their exclusion from political participation. Hailey’s description of masculine domination of political systems invokes the complicity cycle of symbolic violence, but also demonstrates her reflexive awareness of this system. In Tristan’s reflection on his values to ‘never stand back and watch a mate bash a female’ that rests on a version of hegemonic masculinity, there is likewise an awareness of the structural origins of what he ‘was raised to believe’. However, in Hailey’s reflection there is a critical consciousness of the effects of social norms and the possibility of alternatives that is not present in Tristan’s. The following young person’s experiences of Centrelink (Australian Government welfare agency) could likewise be described as analogous to symbolic violence. Lucas: Well I’m polite. I am nice. I am not really violent. I basically get all sorts of things handed to me on a silver platter… say walk into Centrelink. I have missed an appointment and they have suspended my pay. And some other bogan has missed an appointment and been to Centrelink and been like ‘Right, I am going to fucken yell at you and scream at you and fucken abuse your all cunts and I didn’t get my fucken money’. I’ll walk in there and be like: ‘um, I don’t know what has happened. I have missed an appointment can someone please tell me what is going on?’ Not only will I get seen first. I will get given my money, whereas they will get sat down for like an hour or two. Only making them angrier. And then they do get seen, they don’t get helped that day because of how arrogant and rude they are and disrespectful to the workers who are giving them money.

Lucas describes himself as ‘not really violent’. In his interview, Lucas discusses multiple experiences and interactions with the welfare and the juvenile justice system. He has been to court several times, usually as a result of physically violent clashes

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with his brother. In Lucas’ words: ‘when me and my brother have a fight there are knives and fucken weapons’. In his description of his interaction with the Centrelink bureaucracy, Lucas knows how to employ language and cultural capital (Bourdieu, 2008, p. 282) to gain access to what he wants. He knows what is required to navigate or manipulate the bureaucracy. Hannah Arendt describes the ever-increasing role bureaucracies play in modern nation-states as the ‘rule of nobody’ (Arendt, 1972, p. 137). The intricacies of bureaucratic accountability mean that those without the cultural capital to navigate these systems—and perhaps even those who do—ultimately find no-one is held responsible. In this context, Arendt (1972) argues violence is a rational human response (p. 161). However, physical and verbal violence is not socially acceptable. As in Lucas’ story, those who use these means are routinely denied access to welfare supports. To access welfare support young people, like Lucas, must learn to navigate these systems through accepted means. Lucas’s ability to traverse the bureaucracy through ‘not really violent’ means demonstrates again the association between violence and particular socio-cultural groups. Those groups which lack access to the required capital, namely workingclass young men (Sercombe, 2003, p. 27), are left to fight with their bodies. Lucas draws on his cultural capital to fight and manipulate the system to achieve his own ends. His knowledge of the Centrelink system enables him to transcend gender and class barriers and work the system to his benefit. Lucas is performing the sanctioned patterns of communication and cognition required to access the adult world. Lucas embodies an available performativity to access this bureaucracy. On the surface this performativity appears to be ‘not really violent’. However, Lucas’s experience is illustrative of the pattern of violence done to young people, and how it shapes violence by young people. Rather than resisting these systems, it could be argued that Lucas performance conforms to the systems and structures of objective violence that prescribe acceptable behaviour so that he can access essential financial support. Whilst his actions might seem ‘not really violent’, like Anna, he participates in multiple systems and structures of violence. These violent systems determine who is ‘deserving’ (Berns, 2002, p. 38) of support, and as discussed in the previous chapter, this status is largely beyond young people’s control. Whilst personally transcending the class and gender barriers to access welfare, he also conforms to, and in doing so reinforces, these stigmatising structures. Both Lucas and the ‘other bogan’ fight with their body. One uses his body to fight, while other disciplines his body to fit a violating system. To illustrate his point about his ability to traverse this system, Lucas contrasts his behaviour to ‘some other bogan’. In referencing and labelling the ‘other bogan’, he implies his own status as a ‘bogan’. ‘Bogan’ is a derogatory term that usually denotes someone who is socially and economically marginalised (Warr, 2015, p. 665). Lucas can navigate the system, but he still identifies as marginalised. This further reinforces the idea that he is simply conforming or enacting the performativities of the systems rather than challenging or changing its violating practices. This is the cycle of symbolic violence whereby Lucas reproduces his own subordination. The violence done to Lucas, produces the violence done by him, to himself and

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to the ‘other bogan’. Like Tristan, Lucas’s capacity to navigate the bureaucracy demonstrates an awareness of the social norms that he grew up in. However, in spite of this awareness, both also appear to be unconsciously complicit in perpetuating the symbolic violence of their gendered and class-based exclusion.

4.2.3 The Rationality of Violence In the apparent hopelessness of symbolic violence and the rule of nobody, Arendt argues violence is a rational human response. However, violence for Arendt is narrowly defined (subjective) and yet also violence is simply another manifestation of power. Arendt (1972) describes violence as a ‘means by which man rules over man; they are held to be synonyms because they have the same function’ (p. 142). This conflation of violence and power is problematic, as I have previously discussed. However, this way of thinking about violence is also a feature of my conversations with young people. Anna:… you can think of violence as like a power imbalance… whether that is physically coercing someone to do something through physical violence or, you know, blackmailing, you know, or other means more subtle. Making decisions that affect someone else, um, is a power imbalance.

The dynamics of the relationship between violence and power is critical to the analysis and arguments about violence put forth by Walby (2013), von Holdt (2013), Bourdieu (2001), Grinberg (2013), Hearn (2013) and Arendt (1972), and Weber (1946). However, as earlier discussed, the result of the reduction of violence to a form of power is the marginalisation of violence in social theory (Walby, 2013, p. 104). Yet, in Anna’s reflection, violence isn’t contained to narrow subjective force, but is part of a wider, messier and difficult to define system. Participants describe experiencing violence through inequalities, politics and bureaucracies. These systems of violence affect marginalised groups, but participants also describe their complicity in systems that affect everyone. Further complexifying the issue, during his interview John refers to violence to describe negative effects of human action on ‘the climate’ and ‘animal life as well’. Dave: Hmm (Sigh). I think the more I think about this the more confusing it gets. Because I find, yeah, I mean simply I guess violence is anything that does, does damage to yourself and others. But I feel like within that sentence there is so much to unpack. What… is damage and what is the connection between myself and the other? And, um, if I, if I look at humanity not as autonomous beings but as sort of a system of complex relationships, and then I think violence is anything that, I guess, causes a rift in those relationships. And that rift can be externalised. Through a war and physical violence and it can be internalised through prejudice, and stigma and all those sort of things.

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In these young people’s experiences violence is complex, nuanced and multifaceted. Participants’ experiences of violence transcend simplistic categories of victim and perpetrator, subject and object, or personal responsibility and structural forces. These young people identify and describe violence in some contexts, that resembles similar actions in other contexts, that they do not believe should be called violence. Violence is part of a system and participants describe navigating, participating or counteracting those systems. On other occasions, in spite of a reflexive awareness of the system and its violence, participants felt unable to escape violence. As Anna describes, ‘even in just existing, it’s like a violent existence’.

4.3 Coherence in Complexity The risk of expanding definitions of violence to experiences of violation, as described by Bufacchi (2005), can be seen in the above participants’ reflections. Violence appears to be everywhere and in everything. The result is that violence stops describing a specific phenomenon and potentially becomes a meaningless term for all negative phenomenon and experiences. Furthermore, the distinction between power and violence loses its clarity and violence as an idea loses its analytical value. However, to restrict and narrow the definition almost results in something worse. The narrow approach devalues young people’s experiences and understanding. For them, violence is everywhere. Law (2004) argues that the social sciences need to grapple with vagueness, messiness and contingency ‘because much of the world is enacted in that way’ (emphasis in original) (p. 14). Scholarship requires clarity and coherence, except in cases where the focus of study defies coherence (Law, 2004, p. 15). To impose rigid boundaries where there are none would be to change the data and young people’s experience, for the sake of academic priorities. This in itself would be inaccurate, unjust and perhaps violent (Teo, 2010). The challenge therefore is to develop a method that can handle the mess and make something useful of it. The above description and partial analysis of participant reflections on violence drew connections to existing sociological theories of power. These theories, help makes some sense of what is happening. However, as I have argued, they also decentralise violence. In the following section, I more explicitly examine a small selection of theories of power that can be used to explain some of the dynamics. However, in doing so I also offer a brief alternative that centralises violence and the violent performativities available to young people. The three theories are Marx’s class analysis, Becker’s labelling theory and Foucault’s disseminated networks of power.

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4.4 Power and Violence 4.4.1 Class I begin with Marx as his theory is most explicitly referenced above. Marx’s analysis of capitalism depicts a class war within society and endorses the use of violence as a means of social change (Marx & Engels, 2014, p. 24). Developing a ‘Marxist theory of deviance’, Spitzer (1975) argues that deviance needs to be understood within ‘political-economic conflict’ (p. 640). He argues that capitalism produces groups of people and behaviours that are categorised as deviant. Any disruption of the accumulation of capital becomes ‘eligible for management as deviant’ (p. 642). Spitzer argues that when the poor steal from the rich, as Nathan and Mia describe, they refuse to participate in production or socialisation through non-productive roles (e.g. young people refusing to participate in education). In doing so they unsettle the ideology of capitalist society and must be managed. Furthermore, he argues that these groups and behaviours are a predictable result of capitalism as to sustain the production of surplus-capital requires the creation of a ‘surplus population’ (p. 643). Surplus populations are produced through increased innovation and efficiency in the production process. This surplus population must then be managed to protect the system of production. The young and the aged are most affected by the need to find efficiencies. Problematic populations must be managed to maintain efficiency. Alternatively, they can be put to work as a ‘disposable industrial reserve army’ (Marx, 2010, p. 626). Spitzer (1975) argues these populations are usually managed through formal governing structures, such as police, courts and welfare services. They can also be managed through more subtle systems like education, media and civil society groups (Spitzer, 1975, p. 644). Spitzer’s Marxist theory of deviance demonstrates the processes of class and capitalist power that reinforce normal behaviour and suppress the violent revolution envisioned by Marx. However, as I have stated, this is a theory of power and obscures the unique systems of violence. If violence is centralised and conceptualised as a subjective and objective system, it offers another layer of analysis to my participants’ experiences. Financial inequalities are not simply motivation for violent revolution, they are violent as they reduce life chances (i.e. Galtung’s (1969) structural violence). Furthermore, this capitalist system doesn’t simply produce surplus populations, it produces performativities of violent, unwanted, unproductive and undeserving subjects. The unproductive undeserving performativities produced by increasing efficiency are assembled as deviant populations. However, they are also constructed by violence for violence. The capitalist production of dehumanised performativities is violating. Furthermore, these performativities are stripped of access to socially acceptable means for revolution, so they are left to fight with their bodies. Conformity with the acceptable means of navigating the system is not an alternative to violence, as it represents conformity and complicity to the violence of the system. This isn’t just a system of power, it is also a system of violence. Rather than simply saying violence

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is everywhere, it might be more accurate to say it is in all directions (resistance and conformity). Perhaps it is unhelpful to say that everything in capitalism is violent. However, in trying to discover how to young people become violent, the participants in this study describe their attempts to resist and to comply with the inequalities of capitalism as drawing them only further into violence. In resistance or conformity, it is inevitable that they enact violence in some form.

4.4.2 Labelling In Becker’s (1963) seminal work ‘Outsiders’, he recasts the question of deviance from why people ‘do things that are disapproved of’, to why people ‘do not follow through on the deviant impulses they have’ (p. 27). This reconfiguration facilitates the development of labelling theory which identifies deviance not as a quality of an act in itself, but rather as a result of the social reaction to the act (Becker, 1963). Societies construct social norms around deviance, rather than deviance being an inherent component of an individual. Instead of bad people doing bad things, society constructs boundaries around appropriate behaviour and strain is placed on individuals to behave according to these norms. Following this pattern, the question about violence can be reconfigured from why are some young people violent?, into what are the accepted forms of violence that young people conform to? This reconfiguration inverts the image of the subject (in this case young people) as inherently violent, to a subject who learns about violence. Becker argues that social norms are always constructed by the groups in society with power for those without. For example, men construct norms for women, upperclasses for lower-classes, and adults for young people (Becker, 1963, p. 17). To avoid deviant labels (e.g. too young or violent) people make a ‘series of progressively increasing commitments to conventional norms and institutions’ (Becker, 1963, p. 27). Youth can be understood as the period through which a person conforms to of socially constructed standards that indicate a successfully accredited adult (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 9). As such young people make commitments to social norms including (1) completing education to access employment, (2) avoiding drug misuse to maintain respectable social connections, (3) consuming certain products (e.g. house, car, clothes) to demonstrate financial stability. These commitments can be constructed as disincentives for physically violent behaviours that transgress the social norm. However, this rests on the assumption that these social norms are violence-free. This pressure to commit to social norms is particularly clear in Harper’s (a participant in this research) story. After spending many years campaigning for climate justice, she could no longer sustain the emotional and financial cost. Harper describes being disconnected from friends and family. She is exhausted. She left activism (for a time) to find employment and reconnect with her social networks. Ironically, Harper found herself working for a large corporation not dissimilar to those she was previously trying to dissuade from investing in environmentally destructive initiatives.

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She is conscious of the contradictions of her position. Harper has conformed to the very social norms that were underpinning the climate issues she previously opposed. Far from being a peaceful society free from violence, participants describe violence as a norm in many contexts. Self-harm is a normal practice for Owen. Rolling people for their money is normal for Mia. Dominating masculine voices in politics, exploitative labour practices and economic inequalities were all normal experiences that participants had grown up with. Labelling theory suggests that deviance lies not in the act itself, but rather in the reaction to the act by those who have the power to make the label stick (Becker, 1963, p. 187). As such, if violence is understood as a product of power, the background assumption of a peaceful society isn’t relevant. Instead, violence is simply a label that can be applied to actions (or not) in different contexts by those with power. The labelling of certain marginalised group’s action as violent by those in power is undoubtedly a reality. However, this level of relativity for understanding violence is ultimately counterproductive for a phenomenon that has a strong normative association (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 196; Kilby & Ray, 2014). Unlike deviance, to be a useful category of study violence needs to maintain a distinctly normative nature. Becker’s theory of deviance is a theory of power, not a theory of violence or youth. Centralising and separating violence from power refocuses on Becker’s argument that deviance is a learning process and it is a label that shifts with social expectations. In other words, it is society’s perception of violence that changes. The activity of some groups (or systems) in some context is perceived (or labelled) as violent. A such (young) people learn to perform the socially acceptable forms of violence, and not to perform socially unacceptable forms, to maintain a non-deviant status. Violence is sanctioned, hidden or punished through the operations of power, but it is not the same thing as power. Rather than bad young people using violence, young people perform or enact the socially acceptable forms of violence as these performativities are available to them in different social contexts. All (young) people are violent. Some of this violence is recognised and labelled, other forms are not.

4.4.3 Discipline The hierarchical power dynamics within Marxist and Labelling theory describe the reinforcement of violent norms in society. The disseminated Foucauldian constructions of power have a similar function. Modern societies guarantee civil peace, according to Foucault, through the ‘ever-threatening sword’ of the army (Foucault, 1979, p. 168). One participant describes her resignation to physical forced used by workers in child protection systems as follows: Charlie: …I don’t know, the whole restraining kids. I don’t really like it. But at the end of the day that is what they were told to do.

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Compliant populations or ‘docile bodies’ (Foucault, 1979, p. 136) are achieved under the threat of the state’s potential to impose force (such as in Charlie’s experience). However, compliance is also achieved through the networks of technologies of surveillance that are extended across society (p. 168). Surveillance is explicitly built into modern societies in the form of CCTV cameras and data retention strategies. It is also subtly present in the architecture of offices, hospitals, jails and schools. These institutions instil ‘disciplines’ (Foucault, 1979, p. 201) as the subject must assume they are always being observed, and knowledge is developed about the subject as they are observed. The docile body is one which is ‘subjected, used, transformed and improved’ (Foucault, 1979, p. 136). Young people are subjected to physical, structural and symbolic violence and are transformed into citizens who ‘even in just existing’ consent to the violence of contemporary life, even if they ‘don’t really like it’. Young people become docile to the violence around them in society through constant surveillance and by the (conscious or unconscious) knowledge that violence is an inevitable part of society. Foucault’s theory, however, as I have mentioned several times in passing in the earlier chapters of this book, assumes a reduction in violence through the civilization process. In his theory, physical violence is no longer required by governing agents to keep a population under control, as disciplining power and governing through the production of knowledge about the population is far more efficient (Foucault, 2008, p. 141). Foucault contended that the result of this shift in governing power represents the beginning of an era of ‘governmentality’ (Foucault, Burchell, Gordon, & Miller, 1991, p. 102). Governmentality describes the way in which knowledges, or ‘mentalities’, influence both the self-governing action of individuals and the activity of large state bureaucracies (and anything in between) (Bacchi, 2009, p. 26; Dean, 1999, p. 26). This form of governing shifts the focus of governance. In contrast to historical rulers, ‘one never governs a state, a territory, or a political structure. Those whom one governs are people, individuals, or groups’ (Foucault, 2009, p. 122). To achieve this method of government, knowledge is gathered about the population for the purpose of governing them. In addition to governing people, governmentality facilitates an approach to understanding the governing of social problems. Foucault (1988, p. 257) argues that problems do not simply exist in a neutral and abstract form. Instead they exist as a ‘representation of a pre-existing object, nor the creation by discourse of an object that doesn’t exist’ (Foucault, 1988, p. 257). Alternatively, as Bacchi (2009) describes it, social issues are constructed through the process of thinking about them by policy makers, academics, practitioners, or others, within the policy creation process itself. The knowledge gathered about an issue or a subject is what makes it ‘thinkable and manageable’ (Miller & Rose, 1990, p. 7). If young people are thought about as a violent group that needs to be managed, then they will be governed as such. If the data about young people in Chap. 1, that describes young people in concerning detail as victims and perpetrators of violence, is the only or dominant way of thinking about young people and violence then problems and solutions to youth violence will be thought about in these terms. Hence, this book challenges this dominant narrative and provides an alternative through which to think about this issue.

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Knowledge about violence and youth is generated through a diverse array of governmental programs (Kelly, 2010, p. 302) including education, juvenile justice, child protection, accommodation services etc. Kelly (2010) argues this knowledge is developed for the ‘regulation of populations of young people’ (p. 302). As such ‘youth’ has been described as an ‘artefact of government’ (Tait, 1993a, p. 4) or an ‘artefact of expertise’ (Kelly, 2010, p. 312). As an ‘artefact of government’, Tait (1993b) describes youth as ‘the doing of specific types of work on the self’ (p. 52). Tait is describing the identity formation that is associated with youth as a governmental process of knowledge generation (p. 42). Young people draw on the available discourses to develop a sense of self (Strega, 2005, p. 217). If violence is the dominant discourse available to young people, then it will be caught up in their sense of self. Foucauldian power-knowledge dynamics are a central tenant in Farrugia (2016) and Watson’s (2018) conceptualization of performative subjectivities. My model for examining the violent performativities available to young people in contemporary Australian society, attempts to centralise power and counter the assumed decline in violence during civilisation by acknowledging the subjective and objective operations of violence. Centralising violence in this way doesn’t completely disentangle it from the operations of power. It challenges the neutrality of the background social systems. The enactment of subjective violence by young people isn’t simply a result of the invisible operations of power, but also of objective systems of violence. As a result, in a post-structural hinterland and borrowing from Kelly’ phraseology, youth can be described as an ‘artefact of governing violence’ (Lohmeyer, 2018). Also integral to Foucault’s thinking is an initial ambivalence about the operations of power, simply describing them as ‘productive’ (Foucault, 2000, p. 327). Violence, in contrast, holds no such neutrality. Wieviorka (2005) observes that ‘[w]here violence is concerned, the philosophical, moral and ethical debate seems to be over’ (p. 42). However, he also argues that violence was ‘purged’ from the debate in academia in the 1980s and 1990s after receiving a taboo status. There result of which, Wieviorka argues, is the minimisation of the importance of violence in social theory. He goes on to argue that violence needs to be re-centralised, to receive a level of ‘legitimacy’ (Wieviorka, 2005, p. 42) so that it can be better understood. The centralising of violence and challenging the neutrality of social systems that produce the conditions for violence may be closer to Foucault’s intent than I have initially presented it. Bacchi argues that Foucault’s theory is often presented as ‘politically useless’ (Bacchi, 2009, p. 237) and nihilistic in his refusal to ‘propose’ solutions (Foucault, 1988). However, Foucault statement on the intent of his work presents a clear political purpose: …to criticise the working of institutions which appear to be both neutral and independent; to criticise them in such a manner that the political violence which has always exercised itself obscurely through them will be unmasked, so that one can fight them. (Foucault, 1986, p. 6)

The centralisation of violence furthers this purpose and counters many of the issues with the Marxist, Labelling and Post-structural models of power examined above.

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However, conflating violence with power, particularly in the context of a broad definition of violence, makes violence appear to be everywhere. The over-simplification of complete separation, or a lack of any distinction between power and violence, are both counterproductive to the study of violence as a distinct phenomenon and a useful category. Centralising violence while also understanding the overlap with existing theories of power may still result in the conclusion that violence is in every direction. However, as I turn to now, the process of how young people become violent can be seen more clearly.

4.5 The Violence of Youth Attending to participants’ experiences of violence, in this chapter, places violence and also young people’s voices at the centre of understanding how young people become violent. The result is a picture of subjective violence as part of a larger system with objective violence. Violence is not simply everywhere, but it is in every direction. Young people become violent because they enact the violent performativities available to them. These performativities are produced by economic inequalities, by conforming or resisting bureaucracies, by accessible means to vent frustration, by the means of production and consumption or the gendered domination of political participation. Youth is popularly conceived as a period of transition. During this transition, young people are accredited into adulthood by achieving socially accepted norms. To avoid the deviant label and eligibility for management, young people describe complying to behavioural norms in Centrelink, leaving activism to find a job, or consuming products that they knew were produced unethically. Though these activities can be understood as ‘not really violent’, participants also said that ‘context is key’. Violence is a label that is used as a tool for exclusion by those with power. Everyone is violent, or at least complicit in systems of violence. However, some of these forms of violence are labelled as deviant, and others are not. As such, young people learn to perform the sanctioned forms. Youth is also described in this chapter as an artefact of government and knowledge. Young people draw on dominant discourses and the knowledge available to them to work on themselves. They govern themselves and enact the violent performativities produced and maintained by the production of knowledge about young people. Youth is also a product of the attempt to govern young people. It is a way of ‘making up’ citizens capable of ‘bearing a kind of regulated freedom’ (Rose and Miller (1992) cited in Bacchi, 2009, p. 59). In other words, ‘youth’ functions as a category for the purpose of governing young people. The dominant knowledge about violence in youth presents young people as uniquely vulnerable victims and risky perpetrators of violence. Furthermore, Giroux describes the ‘merging of violence and governance’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 226) under contemporary neoliberal regimes. The production of knowledge and docile bodies

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for the purpose of an efficient workforce is ‘an indispensable element in the development of capitalism’ (Foucault, 2008, p. 141). Youth, therefore, can be understood as the product of the attempt to govern the violence of young people. To conform their violence to the socially acceptable norms. To produce a workforce ready to consume the violence of capitalist production. To force them to accept the deviant status of the poor who fight with and on their bodies. In the period of youth, multiple and diverse structures and cultures of violence intersect to ensure the continued exclusion of subjective violence as a means of resistance and the obscuring of objective violence underpinning contemporary society. Youth is a status and a category that is constructed by violent systems to teach young people to internalise and transform personal violence as well as conform and enact sanctioned systemic violence. Violence is in all directions, young people become violent through the violence they experience in youth.

4.6 Conclusion Young people are violent, not because they contain ‘fundamental violence’ (Wieviorka, 2005, p. 155) but because being a part of contemporary society is ‘like a violent existence’. Youth is popularly presented as a period of intense violence. However, rather than being something inherent to youth or young people, the enactment and intensity of violence in youth can be understood as the result of diverse intersecting systems of objective violence. The subjective violence popularly associated with youth, can be understood as the result of the struggle that occurs during a transition into adulthood. This struggle involves resisting and enacting violent performativities that are complicit in objective systems of violence. Becoming an adult also requires young people to discard or internalise subjective violence as an expression of their agency. Young people become violent through the violating performativities available to them. These performativities are made available through a range of structural, symbolic and cultural systems of violence that interact with social structures of gender, ethnicity and class that result in deviant labels and exclusion. These performativities result in the violation of others, but also violation of those who embody them. Reflexive awareness of these systems that perpetuate and perpetrate social and economic inequalities offers opportunities to ‘articulate creative responses’ (Farrugia, 2016, p. 47). However, participants also describe both conscious and unconscious complicity to these systems of violation in spite of their reflexive awareness. Youth is a violating experience and young people enact violence because it is in all directions. This chapter has painted a pessimistic picture, with few opportunities or avenues for resistance. This is reflective of the pessimistic experiences of many participants. It is also the result of focussing on how young people come to enact violence. The subsequent chapter corrects this deliberate oversight by focussing on the other half of the conversation, how young people resist violent performativities.

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Acknowledgements Sections of this chapter were originally published elsewhere. I thank the publisher of the following for permission to reproduce copyright material: Lohmeyer, B. A. (2018). Youth as an artefact of governing violence: violence to young people shapes violence by young people, Current sociology, 66(7), pp. 1070–1086. Copyright © 2018 SAGE https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392117738040.

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Galtung, J. (1969). Violence, peace and peace research. Journal of Peace Research, 6(3), 167–191. Giroux, H. A. (2014). Resisting youth and the crushing state violence of Neoliberalism. In A. Kamp & P. Kelly (Eds.), A Critical Youth Studies for the 21st Century (pp. 223–239). Boston: Brill. Grinberg, L. L. (2013). Resistance, politics and violence: The catch of the Palestinian struggle. Current Sociology, 61(2), 206–225. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456506. Hayes, H., & Prenzler, T. (2015). An Introduction to Crime & Criminology. Melbourne, Australia: Pearson Australia. Hearn, J. (2013). The sociological significance of domestic violence: Tensions, paradoxes and implications. Current Sociology, 61(2), 152–170. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456503. Henriksen, A.-K., & Bengtsson, T. T. (2018). Trivializing violence: Marginalized youth narrating everyday violence. Theoretical Criminology, 22(1), 99–115. https://doi.org/10.1177/136248061 6671995. Hinman, L. (2012). Ethics: A Pluralistic Approach to Moral Theory: Cengage Learning. Kelly, P. (2010). Youth as an artefact of expertise: problematizing the practice of youth studies in an age of uncertainty. Journal of Youth Studies, 3(3), 301–315. https://doi.org/10.1080/713684381. Kilby, J., & Ray, L. (2014). Introduction. The Sociological Review, 62(2_suppl), 1–12. https://doi. org/10.1111/1467-954x.12188. Kumsa, M. K., Ng, K., Chambon, A., Maiter, S., & Yan, M. C. (2013). Rethinking youth violence and healing. Journal of Youth Studies, 16(7), 847–863. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2013. 763919. Law, J. (2004). After method: mess in social science research. London: Routledge. Lohmeyer, B. A. (2018). Youth as an artefact of governing violence: Violence to young people shapes violence by young people. Current sociology, 66(7), 1070–1086. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 0011392117738040. Marx, K. (2010). Marx & Engels Collected Works (S. Moore & E. Aveling, Trans. F. Engels Ed. Vol. 1). UK: Lawrence & Wishart. Marx, K., & Engels, F. (2014). The Manifesto of the Communist Party. In F. Engels (Ed.). Retrieved from https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/m/marx/karl/m39c/index.html. Miller, P., & Rose, N. (1990). Governing economic life. Economy and Society, 19(1), 1–31. https:// doi.org/10.1080/03085149000000001. Pollock, J. M. (2016). Ethical Dilemmas and Decisions in Criminal Justice. Boston, USA: Cengage Learning. Sercombe, H. (2003). Reflections on youth violence. Youth Studies Australia, 22(1), 25–30. Spitzer, S. (1975). Toward a Marxian theory of deviance. Social Problems, 22(5), 638–651. Strega, S. (2005). The view from the poststructural margins. In L. A. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as Resistance (pp. 199–235). Toronto: Canadian Scholars Press. Tait, G. (1993a). Re-assessing street kids: A critique of subculture theory. In R. D. White (Ed.), Youth Subcultures: Theory, History and the Australian Experience. National Clearinghouse for Youth Studies: Hobart. Tait, G. (1993b). Youth, personhood and ‘practices of the self’: some new directions for youth research. Journal of Sociology, 29(1), 40–54. Teo, T. (2010). What is epistemological violence in the empirical social sciences? Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 4(5), 295–303. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1751-9004.2010.002 65.x. von Holdt, K. (2013). The violence of order, orders of violence: Between Fanon and Bourdieu. Current Sociology, 61(2), 112–131. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456492. Walby, S. (2013). Violence and Society: Introduction to an emerging field of sociology. Current Sociology, 61(2), 95–111. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456478. Walby, S., Towers, J., & Francis, B. (2014). Mainstreaming domestic and gender-based violence into sociology and the criminology of violence. The Sociological Review, 62(S2), 187–214. https:// doi.org/10.1111/1467-954x.12198.

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Chapter 5

Articulating Creative Resistance to Violence

The idea of resistance in youth studies can be traced at least as far back as the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies in Birmingham (CCCS) and subcultural studies of the 1960s. These early studies were instrumental in demonstrating that young people and youth culture was not simply deviant, but rather could be understood as ‘symbolic and ritual ways of doing resistance’ (Johansson & Lalander, 2012, p. 1079). This shift from ‘delinquency’ to ‘resistance’ (Allen, 2008, p. 566) is a critical change in conceptualising young people’s agency and power. However, the term resistance is problematic and needs to be approached with care. The implicit oppositional orientation of resistance can unintentionally reinforce the exclusion of young people as an outsider or marginal group. This chapter unpacks participants’ experiences and stories of resistance to violence. As explored in the previous chapters, violence is often a medium for resistance. Furthermore, when young people use violence for resistance this can have the effect of identifying them as an outsider and further marginalising them. However, the young people in this research do not hold a pure ideal of their resistance as being violence-free. Instead, their struggle with and against violence is messy and compromised. At times they are pessimistic about the possibility of living without violence and at the same time enact creative responses to shockingly violent situations. In this chapter, I argue that young people resist the violent performativities available to them through creative but ultimately compromised means. Furthermore, they demonstrate a reflexive awareness of the compromised nature of their resistance and are pessimistic at the possibility of living in a violence-free world. However, in spite of this, they continue to act to create a better world. I start with a brief review of the idea of resistance and how I use it in this chapter. Following this, I examine participants’ stories of resistance to subjective violence. In turn, I consider participants’ stories of resistance to objective violence. I finish with an appeal to challenging the language and narratives of violence in contemporary society as a small but essential starting point to finding hopeful alternatives to violence.

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 B. A. Lohmeyer, Youth and Violent Performativities, Perspectives on Children and Young People 11, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-5542-8_5

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5.1 Resistance in Youth Studies The risk of using resistance to describe young people’s activity centres around reinforcing the positioning of young people as different from mainstream society. For example, young people are often presented in popular media as either victims or offenders (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 89). This has the potential to position young people in dualistic terms; either in opposition or submission to mainstream culture (Wyn & White, 1997, pp. 90–91). Furthermore, as Wyn and White (1997) argue, uncritically positioning young people and youth culture in opposition to the mainstream overlooks the fact that whilst some aspects of youth culture differ from the mainstream, this does not necessarily mean they offer a challenge to dominant discourses (pp. 90–91). The term resistance places young people as personally responsible and in deliberate opposition to the mainstream and therefore outside of social norms. In this dualistic representation, the only alternative to deliberate opposition is for young people to conform. These overly simplified categories overlook the possibility that young people simply might be unintentionally embodying difference or creatively constructing hopeful alternatives within the mainstream. Wyn and White (1997) argue it is likely that most young people will subvert mainstream norms, particularly age-based discrimination, at some point in their lives. However, this kind of subversion is not necessarily usefully described as resistance (p. 90). Casual oppositional activities such as criticising age-based restrictions or nonattendance at family events and at school do not necessarily contain what Giroux calls ‘radical significance’ (1983, 285, in Raby, 2005, p. 157). These activities are not necessarily a deliberate response to domination or an attempt to change the conditions that enable domination. Furthermore, some forms of rebellion by young people could better be characterised as an attempt to fight for a place within the mainstream, rather than a fight against it (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 92). The oppositional dynamic of resistance suggests that there exists a desire to change systems. However, this is not always present in everyday acts of rebellion. For example, a casual struggle against age-based discrimination by one young person can be understood as an attempt to gain access to adult rights and responsibilities, rather than preventing any future discrimination against young people generally. Resistance can also position young people as responsive or reactive to short-term issues rather than as active agents who are leaders of social change (Raby, 2005, p. 151). This minimalistic understanding of resistance, and the others described above, plays into the discourses of youth as either vulnerable and in need of protection, or risky and in need of management. These kinds of discourses are often employed by the media and political elites to discount and denigrate young people’s political participation (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 110). However, Raby (2005) argues that despite all these risks, resistance should not be discarded as it ‘recognises and values oppositional behaviour as political and informed’ (p. 151). Young people are regularly active and deliberate agents who seek to make systemic social change. As such, this action should be valued as resistance.

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This understanding has been conceptualised differently over time, as sociologists’ understanding of power has shifted. As described above, scholars of the CCCS and their contemporaries conceptualised resistance in terms of symbols and rituals (Johansson & Lalander, 2012, p. 1079). Later in the 1990s, post-structural theories of power greatly influenced the conceptualisation of resistance in youth studies (p. 1081). Raby’s (2005) prominent overview of resistance in youth studies outlines the diversity of understandings of the term. Raby argues modern understandings of resistance present power in terms of ‘a binary between dominance and submission’ (p. 152). Resistance in this sense arises from ‘rage at one’s subordination’ and may include an awareness of the ‘structural conditions’ in which the marginalised find themselves. Furthermore, resistance may be the product of the raising of consciousness resulting from a ‘contradiction between ideology and experience’ (pp. 166–167). In contrast, postmodern narratives of resistance are more complex and contingent: A variety of narratives of resistance may interweave, overlap and contradict at the same time, and what seems like unified opposition may in fact be diverse and fragmented as people’s investments and commitments to an activity vary. (Raby, 2005, p. 161)

A concrete oppositional position does not exist in a postmodern conceptualisation of resistance. Instead resistance is ‘defined around language’ (pp. 166–167), and the actor never finds her or himself ‘outside of discourse’ (p. 167). Hence, a postmodern understanding of resistance is ‘temporary, fragmented’ and ‘haunted by contingencies’ (p. 167). Postmodern forms of resistance are about challenging dominant discourses and uncritically accepted realities. It is about what is said, but also how and when it is said. Raby (2005) provides an overview of nine different modes of resistance. These include four modernist ‘conceptions of resistance’: (1) Active, collective; (2) Active, heroic; (3) Passive, collective or heroic; and (4) Appropriation (p. 153). The remaining five are post-modernist ‘positions of resistance’: (1) Linguistic; (2) Disidentification; (3) Strategic; (4) Alternative discourses; and (5) Bodily (p. 154). The modernist conceptions rely on an oppositional positioning in which resistance is about disrupting or overwhelming the dominant power broker (p. 153). In contrast, the discursive positions are less unified; they are fragmented and ‘focus on more localised, contextualised analyses’ (p. 154). Postmodern conceptualisations have greater potential to recognise subtle and micro forms of resistance that contain radical significance, without necessarily achieving immediate systemic change. More recently, sociology has been influenced by a renewed interest in affect (Flam & King, 2005), and consideration is being given to forms of ‘affective resistance’. These forms of resistance operate, Hynes argues, in ‘the middle or the in-between’ (Hynes, 2013, p. 562) the macropolitics of collective struggles and the micropolitics of social interactions. Hynes argues that affect exists as a pre-conscious state (p. 567), and as such affective resistance focusses on a ‘transition in the capacity to affect or be affected’ (p. 561). This idea of transitional states as a focus of resistance adds a new and important layer to an already complex phenomenon.

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In this book, I use the term ‘resistance’ in a way that attempts to avoid polarising notions that create false dichotomies between structural, post-structural and affective conceptions of resistance (Johansson & Lalander, 2012). Avoiding polarisation creates space for a multifaceted understanding of resistance that can include subtle, creative and humorous forms (Raby, 2005, p. 159). This broad approach to resistance facilitates an understanding of young people as creative social actors seeking to change and improve their lives and the world. Resistance is about opposing a negative phenomenon, but with varying degrees conscious awareness of its political dimensions. I use resistance to suggest action motivated by a desire to create positive change and both a personal and systemic level, even if this outcome isn’t always achieved. This approach to resistance is multifaceted and conditional. As I have argued in other places in this book, for youth sociologists to traverse the landscape of contemporary youth violence and resistance, it is necessary to be equipped to engage with increasing complexity and contingency.

5.2 Resisting Subjective Violence Tristan: If you could stop it, it would be a terrific thing. But, these days I honestly can’t see it working. Most violence is provoked by drug use… Ninety-five percent of violence is provoked by drug use and honestly, the law is already aware of it.

Tristan’s story, which was introduced in the previous chapter, demonstrates mounting docility to physical violence. He describes physical violence as a regular feature of his childhood. He describes his mum’s series of partners as well as the regular threat they posed to his and his family’s physical safety. He also proudly describes his mum’s physical fighting ability and his own decisions to defend his family against some of her partners. Preventing violence sounds like a ‘terrific thing’ to Tristan, but it is not something that he is optimistic about happening in reality. In his interview, Tristan tells another story about domestic violence in his extended family. This story started with witnessing his cousin being assaulted by her partner. Tristan describes seeing his cousin’s partner ‘beatin’ the living shit out of her on my pop’s front yard’. He went on to describe the response from the members of his family who witnessed the incident. Brandishing a variety of weapons (metal poles, knives and a machete) they rushed to confront the attacker. His cousin’s partner (the perpetrator) fled, and Tristan switched his attention from defending his cousin to preventing his uncle enacting revenge on the attacker. Tristan: And then I had to stop my uncle, my cousin’s dad, from cutting the cunt up with a machete… Uncle was sprinting down the road swinging this machete around like crazy, so I hit the legs behind him ran up jumped in front of him wrapped my arms around him saying ‘Uncle Simon think about the kids eh?’ And he is like ‘I am going to kill this cunt’. It’s like ‘Nah think about the fucken kids. Think about your kid’s Uncle, they need you. Like they can’t just have their mum, they need their dad’. And then he dropped the machete and started crying on my shoulder.

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In spite of Tristan’s resignation at the possibility of preventing violence, this is a story in which he does prevents violence. In a moment of intense passion and vehemence, he convinces his uncle to not respond violently to the physical attack on his daughter. His initial response to the violence directed at his cousin could be described as an oppositional rage and an act of resistance to domination. Arguably, he enacted the performativity readily available to angry young working-class men and fought with his body (Sercombe, 2003, p. 27). However, his resistance to his uncle’s violence also takes on a more nuanced and sophisticated form. Tristan employs the threat of separation from family to stop his uncle acting violently. Tristan invokes his knowledge of the justice system as a likely outcome for physical violence by his uncle. His actions could be described as a technology of surveillance, an embodiment of the disciplining power of the ‘carceral network’ (Foucault, 1979, p. 310). As a result of Tristan’s reminder of the potential consequences for revenge, his uncle disciplines himself as if he is under the gaze of the justice system. Tristan, and his family, prevent further physical violence to his cousin from her attacker through the oppositional threat of subjective violence. He also prevents violence to his cousin’s attacker through a discursive means. It is contestable the extent to which Tristan’s actions to prevent his uncle’s violence represent a form of resistance or a mechanism of compliance. Tristan opposes the use of physical violence by his uncle, but he is doing it by appealing to dominant social codes rather than attempting to change them. Preventing subjective violence, in this case, reinforces the dominant social code that prohibits revenge through physical violence. However, the surrounding objective systems of violence (Zizek, 2008) producing a structural gendered pattern of domestic violence and poverty are left unchallenged. Arguably, Tristan’s action to prevent his Uncle’s revenge, avoids the violating experiences of separation and poverty for his cousins, aunty, uncle and others that might result from his uncle’s incarceration; ‘Think about your kid’s Uncle, they need you’. This violation includes the potential loss of relationship, but also potential impoverishment through the loss of a source of income, as well as the harms of the loss of personal freedoms for Tristan’s uncle. Still further, in preventing his uncle from seeking revenge, Tristan is resisting the dominant performativity of working-class young men who lack any other means to fight but with their body. Instead, Tristan demonstrates a reflexive ability to critically assess the situation and employ a creative (and arguably affective) strategy to prevent physical violence. The complexity of Tristan’s situation and response demonstrates the interconnecting subjective, and objective systems of violence that intersect and construct a single moment of violence. This complexity also highlights the capacity of young people to generate creative responses to highly complex real-world scenarios. As described by Farrugia, performativities are the lived subjectivities ‘made available by discursive regimes’ that ‘lead to the repetition or subversion of these discourses’ (emphasis added) (Farrugia, 2016, p. 47). In Tristan’s case, it led to the repetition and subversion of discursive regimes. Farrugia continues, arguing that ‘lived subjectivity emerges as subjects work to make sense of and act in the world, articulating the creative possibilities available in different symbolic economies’ (Farrugia, 2016,

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p. 47). Tristan worked to make some sense of his violent world and enacted a creative response the prevented further violence. The theoretical analysis of the exact form and dynamic of his resistance need to avoid minimising the creativity of the act. Other young people in this research likewise generate creative responses to the subjective violence they encounter. Andrew identifies as a ‘GOM Kid’. He is under the Guardianship of the Minister (GOM). Andrew’s friend Vince (also a GOM Kid) joins him and they do the interview together. They tell stories of some of their experiences of violence in state-provided group accommodation in the child protection system. Vince tells us a story of an incident he witnessed in an accommodation service between the staff (‘night officers’) and another young person. Vince: And the senior night officers, they are big, and I’ve seen them… this little girl who was only thirteen, fucken they were swinging her around, all for running in the office and running back out. They grabbed her and they smashed her into the wall. They were throwing her around, both of them. I walked up and was like: ‘What the fuck are youse doing man? She’s only thirteen you don’t need fucken two of youse to drop her’. Andrew: Eh, every time they do stuff like that bro do you know what you do? Pull your phone out and start filming them bro. Every time they start doing it, pull your phone out and start filming them, and then when you get like 20 videos bro, go down to the police station down the road. And ask to speak to the, you know the Kiwi sergeant? Vince: Yeah. Andrew: Yeah, ask to talk with him bro and show him it all. Vince: Why, is he chilled? Andrew: Yeah he gets the workers fired bro. I’ve already got two fired for doing that. Just filming it and bringing it down there. Vince: Really? Andrew: Yeah, yeah he’ll fire the night officers bro… ‘Cos as soon as they get one charge as Families SA (government child protection agency)… they get fired instantly.

In his interview, Andrew describes other occasions when he utilised this technique of resistance. On one occasion, he was denied access to his accommodation, on another, he was refused a glass of water by the staff. On both occasions, he says he filmed the event and used the video to hold the staff accountable for their actions. Andrew’s techniques have a clear oppositional dynamic, yet they also represent a method to gain access to the mainstream rather than to create social change. It is a method to improve Andrew’s life (and potentially, but not necessarily, the lives of other young people around him) by resisting violating experiences. Andrew’s approach does not employ physical force. Instead, he leverages the accessibility of mobile technology. This approach is also being used by activists around the globe.1 With a mobile phone and an internet connection, activists upload and share videos of encounters with state violence in everyday life and at political protests. Like in Tristan’s case, it can be argued that this technique utilises the technologies of surveillance employed by states to create docile bodies (Foucault, 1979, p. 215). The technique is panopticonic in that it creates knowledge about the subject 1 The

use of mobile phones in this way by activists is well documented, particular by the Black Lives Matter movement in the USA.

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by exposing them to the public view. This gaze reinforces normative behaviour. The technique is effective because this form of violence hidden in the domestic space (the physical abuse of children) is unacceptable in the public domain. In Andrews’ story, it is the individual worker who is punished for their violence. However, Andrew is also using surveillance technologies against the state and its representatives. The systems of state surveillance Foucault (1979) describes are inverted through Andrew’s action, as the citizen employs public opinion to discipline the state and its agents. Arguably, Andrew’s actions facilitate different arms of the state disciplining each other, as ultimately it is the police that enforces the change within the accommodation service (child protection). This reversal of the disciplining gaze creates a tangled image of oppositional forces and multiple actors that do not fit neatly into modernist theories of resistance.

5.2.1 Cultural Violence and Child Abuse The mistreatment of children in child protection in Australian has an important history. Physical violence against children under state care is not simply the actions of isolated bad individuals. The history of child abuse in institutional care in Australia reflects a culture of justifying violence against young people (Bessant, 2011, p. 56; Daly, 2014; Ferguson, 2006). This cultural legitimation of violence against young people persists, as demonstrated by recent manifestations including the high-profile case of unjustified restraint and violence in the Don Dale detention centre in the Northern Territory of Australia (Schubert, 2016). Ferguson summarises the discourse underpinning violence against young people in institutional care. In institutional care in Australia, young people have often been seen as ‘moral dirt’ (Ferguson, 2006). Ferguson argues, that their presence in welfare services is interpreted as signalling the young person’s lower-class origins as well as the polluting influences of abuse and neglect in their lives. As a result, ‘other children and good citizens need to be protected from their ‘contaminating’ influences’ (Ferguson, 2006, p. 133). This deviant label and broken status ‘provided a (hidden) rationale for further brutalising them’ (p. 134). Young people in care are the legitimate object of violence as they are already broken, and this contamination must be prevented from spreading by any means. This hidden rationale is a case of cultural violence that legitimises physical violence against young people in care. Focusing on the structural and cultural dynamics that promote violence against young people, reconfigures Andrew’s technique as more than simply a strategy to prevent physical violence. It is a strategy that challenges the structural violation and cultural legitimation of violence against young people in care. This culture of violence is underpinned by the discourse of transition that dominates popular conceptions of youth (Kelly, 2011, p. 50). The dualistic discourses that underpin the justification of violence against young people, by positioning them as other than human (Sercombe, 2010, p. 20; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19), are the same as those that underpin the justification of violence against non-human animals. Andrew’s technique is a claim

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on the ‘humanness’ of young people; it resists these ‘othering’ discourses (Irvine, 2008, p. 1957; Strega, 2005, p. 209). It rejects the oppressive discourse that justifies violence against young people. Raby (2005) describes this kind of resistance as discursive resistance. It is an attempt to counter the dominant ideas and definitions by seeking and ‘deploying alternative discourses, which may, in turn, slightly reframe and alter dominant discourses’ (Raby, 2005, p. 154). This discursive resistance is a way of speaking against a dehumanising and unjust knowledge of young people. Another participant, Nathan, also uses surveillance footage of an assault filmed on a mobile phone to prevent physical violence. In his interview, he describes a complex series of intimate interpersonal relationships and two assaults that occurred between people in a web of connections. The first assault was on his current girlfriend by his ex-girlfriend. The second assault was by Nathan on his ex-girlfriend’s current boyfriend. Nathan describes his attack as a response to the attack on his girlfriend. Both assaults occurred in a shopping mall. The assault involving Nathan was caught on CCTV and the other was captured on a mobile phone. Nathan says he was charged for his assault as he was caught on CCTV, and his ex-girlfriend was not charged for hers. Nathan plays the footage of the assault of his girlfriend that he has on his phone to me during his interview. Nathan says he used the mobile phone footage to blackmail his ex-girlfriend and her partner to prevent any further attacks on his current girlfriend. He threatened to take to the footage to the police if they didn’t leave him and his girlfriend alone. Like Andrew and Tristan, Nathan’s innovative use of technology could be analysed as an extension of the carceral network and surveillance technologies. A postmodern analysis of resistance can recognise these subtle forms of resistance and the radical significance they contain. They might not be directed at creating systemic change, however, the prevention of physical violence also challenges the dominant discourses and legitimising structural and cultural violence. Tristan, Andrew and Nathan all devised strategies to resist subjective violence. However, to achieve the prevention of subjective violence their strategies drew on the background objective violence. In each case, the threat, or action, of police and the justice system was invoked to prevent physical violence. This could be interpreted as the justice system working and the law acting as a disincentive for violent behaviour. However, also in each case, the young people involved describe having had significant negative experiences of these systems, and it was these negative or violating experiences that serviced as a source of prevention. Police officers weren’t typically believed to represent a source of safety, and the justice system wasn’t perceived as an institution for achieving fair outcomes. For Andrew and Vince, the ‘chill’ ‘kiwi sergeant’ was worth speaking to because he was exceptional. Nathan told stories of being assaulted by police in previous encounters. In addition to stories of negative encounters with police and the justice system, Tristan summarises how he understood young people’s experiences of the child protection system. Tristan: They tried to do, the workers tried to do good. But you ask any child that has been in welfare, welfare are a bunch of cunts, and it’s not that they don’t do a good job of looking after the children when they take them. It is because they take them full stop. Like, no kid

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wants to be taken away from their parent. I am not going to deny they do, they do look after the child. They do try and make the child feel as safe and welcome into whatever environment they are put in as possible.

Foucault (1979) describes the prison as ‘the detestable solution’, humanity is yet to arrive at a comprehensive alternative, but what we have right now is ‘dangerous when it is not useless’ (p. 232). The same can be said of the child protection system. As Tristan articulates, ‘no kid wants to be taken away from their parent’. Despite good intentions, these systems also harm. Hence, these systems are not neutral, and the background objective systems in society are not peaceful. These young people draw on the knowledge of violating background objective systems to resist physical violence. Hence their resistance also contains compliance, their prevention also contains violence. Their techniques of resistance, however, can also be considered from another angle. Their adaption of mobile phone technology suggests a type of ‘cultural’ and perhaps ‘digital social capital’ (Julien, 2015, p. 369). The footage on Nathan’s phone was not the original file digitally transferred from the original phone that recorded the footage. Instead, using his phone, he had filmed the footage as it was played on the phone that took the original footage. Whilst this is a low-tech solution, the entire strategy of using surveillance rather than physical force demonstrates a capacity to manipulate the gaze of governing institutions. Rather than fighting with their bodies they creatively articulate responses to the dominant violent performativities and constructing an alternative within the mainstream.

5.2.2 Fighting with My Body Other participants also sought to create alternatives to the violence that surrounded them. Michelle describes growing up in a home where she would often overhear domestic violence from neighbouring houses and witness physical violence on the street. She also experienced bullying at school and in the workplace. She describes the efforts her parents made to shield her and her siblings from these experiences. This included turning up the music played in the house to drown out the neighbours’ noise, and educating Michelle and her siblings about the impact of their actions on each other. Michelle describes a long-held compulsion towards ‘voicing opposition to society’. She recounts an experience from her early schooling where she witnessed an ‘Indian boy’ being teased for ‘wearing a head wrap’. Michele describes coming to the boy’s aid and educating his attackers that the headwear is normal in his family. Building on this desire to effect change, Michelle describes realising her complicity in the violence around her by failing to challenge it or provide an alternative. Adopting the language of ‘nonviolence’ Michelle decides that, to pursue this goal, she must first turn her attention inward. Michelle:… first and foremost I think not being violent towards myself is a really important thing. Trying to actively reflect on how I am responding and how I am feeling in the world.

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5 Articulating Creative Resistance to Violence So, whether that means being a bit mindful of a morning. Taking some time out, meditating, or yoga or whatever it is that can, sort of, ground me. It can come in many different forms. Um, and then ensuring that I really know myself. So that if somebody does act violently against me I can, um, reflect on how that is making me feel and then respond in a way that is an example of nonviolence, nonviolent resistance or, um, nonviolent communication. And that is the only way I can, um, yeah ensure that I am living a nonviolent life. Just through my example.’

Michelle’s reflection describes a bodily and discursive form of resistance. She experiences violence as the dominant narrative in her neighbourhood, school and work. Michelle seeks to counter this narrative by embodying an alternative discourse; a nonviolent discourse. To make this performativity available when she encounters violence, Michelle takes time to know herself better. To understand how she feels towards herself and others. Michelle’s techniques of meditation and self-awareness that underpin her resistance can be analysed as ‘certain kinds of work on the self’ (Tait, 1993, p. 42). Getting to know herself could be interpreted as a process of knowledge generation through which she disciplines her body for docility and utility (Foucault, 1979, p. 132). This would position her work as something more akin to compliance with the norms of adulthood and transition away from violence associated with youth. This activity reflects the pattern of young people fighting ‘with’ (or against) their body discussed in the previous chapter. Michelle’s description of this work (fight), doesn’t sounds particularly violating. However, this assumes, again, the neutrality and nonviolence of adulthood and society. It also assumes Michelle identifies as a young person. Several times during the interview, Michelle refers to herself as an adult or contrasts her current actions to a younger version of herself. As such Michelle is contrasting her nonviolent behaviour not to the assumed violence of youth or young people, but to those whom she sees as her peers, i.e. other adults. Michelle does not describe her pursuit of nonviolence as a conforming process to the assumed non-violence of adulthood. She is not consciously attempting to transform her violence into acceptable means. Her description of the process is the opposite. She understands the adoption of nonviolence as a process of rejecting the violating norms of adult society. Her practices of meditation and self-awareness are a means of resistance with radical significance to oppose her perception of the actions of her adult peers and the dominant discourses of violence around her. Michelle’s technique challenges the subjective violence of her immediate experience and the objective violence of the broader (adult) culture. Michelle consciously develops her techniques of resistance to violence by promoting an alternative: nonviolence.

5.2.3 Pragmatic and Principled Nonviolence Weber (2003) argues there are essentially two main streams of nonviolence. The first is a ‘principled’ approach, which rejects violence on moral or religious grounds (p. 250). This approach is exemplified by Mahatma Gandhi who presents nonviolence

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as ‘a way of living’ and emphasises the centrality of human harmony (p. 253). In contrast, the ‘pragmatic’ approach rejects violence on the grounds of its ineffectiveness. Weber (2003) points to the work of Gene Sharp, who was once a proponent of the ‘principled’ approach. In in his later works his views shift and he emphasises the techniques of non-violent direct action ‘as an effective means of challenging power’ (p. 250). Despite the shared opposition to violence within the two approaches, there are many important differences. Weber (2003) argues that Sharp’s concern is for ‘social and political freedom’ (p. 264) and focusses on the best means to frustrate or defeat an opponent. In contrast, Gandhi’s prefers the term satyagraha over nonviolence, which translates as truth-force (Ambler, 1990, p. 199). Gandhi’s version of nonviolence is a search for truth. Michelle’s description of her techniques of resistance resonates with the principled approach to nonviolence as a way of living. These two approaches might seem distinct in theory. In practice, they are much less well defined. Furthermore, the idea of ‘force’ in Gandhi’s truth-force echoes Bufacchi’s (2005) narrow definition of violence as a passionate force. Bufacchi’s (2005) description of the narrow definitions of violence also includes consideration of intent and harm. However, these are also problematic ideas that do not provide a clear distinction between violent and non-violent actions. This ignites a range of questions about intent and harm and raises the possibility of ‘nonviolent’ actions unintentionally resulting in harm or violating subjective experiences. These questions and the blurred distinction between the pragmatic and the principled approach were evident in Logan’s experiences of nonviolent protest. Logan describes originally becoming interested in nonviolence through his Christian beliefs. He says became actively involved in anti-war activism as well as environmental and refugee advocacy. At the time of the interview, he no longer considered himself a Christian but is still ‘inspired by a lot of the teachings that Jesus gave in the gospels. And … people like the catholic workers and other people influenced by faith…’ Logan:… ideally if faced with violence I would try and turn the other cheek and fight violence with love instead of violence, you know? Having said that however I recognise that in cases of self-defence… I myself would use violence. So, I am pragmatic in that sense. Um, although certainly I still do believe that, um, you know, violence fighting violence with violence isn’t going to, um, change for the better, um, the person who is enacting that violence, you know? Fighting violence with love is more transformative in the end.

Logan holds in tension both his ideals of nonviolence and a pragmatic realisation about his potential to use violence ‘in cases of self-defence’. There is an overlap in Logan’s reflection between his original attraction to a principled approach and more recent orientation towards a pragmatic perspective on nonviolence. Logan still believes that ‘love is more transformative’, but he also acknowledges that ‘I myself would use violence. So, I am pragmatic in that sense’. It could be concluded that Logan has become pragmatic as a result of his experiences. However, his use of terms like ‘love’ and ‘transformation’ doesn’t fully reflect the Sharp’s pragmatic concern for effectiveness. Instead, these terms suggest a search for greater meaning or truth.

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Weber (2003) also notes that this distinction between pragmatic and principled might be manufactured, that in reality activists are not concerned by the distinction. Moreover, he argues that these approaches might be better described as simply represent different phases of political struggle (Weber, 2003, p. 263). In either case, both the principled and pragmatic streams offer an alternative to the dominant discourses of violence, and nonviolence offers a way of enacting creative responses to the violent performativities available to young people. This resistance might not be perfectly free from violence. Nonviolence might unintentionally violate others through force and require a self-disciplining fight with the self. However, nonviolence is also described by participants as being an oppositional force and presenting alternatives to the dominant representation of young people as physically violent. Furthermore, both Logan and Michelle’s resistance to subjective violence contains radical significance because they challenge the invisibility of objective violence. Michelle’s techniques for preventing subjective violence, also counter the assumed non-violence of adulthood. Even though Logan admits he may use violence in self-defence, he believes that ‘Fighting violence with love is more transformative in the end’. The participants describe a range of techniques to resist subjective violence. These techniques are often accompanied by realism and perhaps pessimism about the capacity to completely prevent violence. These techniques are a messy mix of principles and pragmatism. Under analysis, their techniques of resistance are not pure and free from violence. In 1976, the United States of America’s Federal Bureau of Investigation described Martin Luther King Jr.’s (MLK) (renown practitioner of nonviolence) potential to ‘unify and electrify the militant black nationalist movement’ if he was to ‘abandon his supposed “obedience” to “white, liberal doctrines” (nonviolence)’ (Senate Select Committee to Study Governmental Operations, 1976, p. 180). In spite of the radical significance of nonviolence in both its pragmatic and principled forms, it is a technique for resistance that draws (at least in the case of MLK) legitimacy from the dominant cultural logic and objective systems of social inequality. I am not a criticising of MLK’s technique. Rather, the FBI’s description points out that resistance is entangled within dominant social narratives with the potential for violence. The young people in this research describe their resistance to subjective violence as neither entirely hopeless nor optimistic. Instead, their stories contain both. Their activities are often oppositional and anti-domination. They enact their resistance at an individual level, and at times without explicit consciousness of the radical significance. Yet under analysis, these subjective forms of resistance appear to contain radical resistance or complicity with objective systems of violence. For some participants, the objective systems of violence were more clearly the focus for their resistance.

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5.3 Resisting Objective Violence 5.3.1 Seeking Alternatives In Chap. 4, Dave describes his encounters with violence in the social structures of class and gender. During his interview, he describes his journey as a search for means to resist these violating structural inequalities. This search leads him to volunteer in Palestine with an organisation that supported the Palestinian people living under occupation. His role is as an observer or companion for children and women in their everyday activities. He describes how his presence, as a visibly white Anglo-Saxon male, deters violence and harassment of Palestinian women and children from armed soldiers in places like border crossings, local conflict zones and primary schools. Dave volunteers to live with these people under occupation because he desires to learn from them about their resistance to violence. He went to Palestine with the understanding that under intense persecution, these people had developed effective non-violent practices of resistance. The following excerpt illustrates the frustration and disappointment he describes when this desire to learn about nonviolence resistance was not fulfilled. Dave:…the organisation I was with, as much as it was giving me an opportunity for me to see first-hand what was happening and get involved in peace-keeping on the ground, I was part of something that had been going for fifteen years now and wasn’t changing as the system changed and developed. I was doing work. I was doing busywork. But I felt like it was more for me than for the Palestinian people…. was it actually promoting and partnering with resistance? Um, I don’t know.

Dave describes his trip to Palestine as a pursuit of alternatives to violence that ultimately ‘was more for me’. The trip was an attempt to challenge his docility and find alternatives to the violating performativities he observes in the ‘system that rewards you for being upper middle class and white and educated’. He describes going to Palestine to seek alternatives to the physical and structural violence he witnesses. Instead of discovering new techniques for resistance, the journey takes him to a place where he is no longer convinced by the nonviolent solutions he seeks. His journey ironically reinforces normality. He witnesses the failure of alternatives and develops a pessimism about the prospect of a society without violence. In his interview, Dave describes a need for systemic change to solve the problem of violence in Palestine, but also in Australia and in Thailand where he went to volunteer in an orphanage. The lack of change in these systems led Dave to question whether his actions are resistance. He questions if preventing subjective violence, such as protecting women and children through his presence, without effecting change to objective violence is resistance. Similar to Dave, Hailey also questions the pragmatic effectiveness of resisting subjective violence. In the previous chapter, Hailey’s reflections on violence demonstrate the complexity of young people’s experiences of violence. She describes the slippery and shifting nature of violence making it hard to define and contain. In her

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experience, what counted as violence, and what didn’t, changes from one circumstance to another. Subjective forms of violence were reasonably clear, like harm to animals or people. However, the physical and harmful force required for criminalised property damage could be interpreted as a legitimate means of political protest in the context of destroying military weapons as an anti-war protest. Hailey’s explanation of why she uses Nonviolent Direct Action (NVDA) reflected a mix of the pragmatic and principled approaches. In her words, she ‘like[s] the power that nonviolence has.’ However, she understood it as ‘not the power over, but rather the power with. So, the power of working together.’ NVDA represents a powerful means to make change for Hailey. However, her description of power ‘with’ rather than ‘over’ contrasts Sharp’s pragmatic focus on challenging power and forcing social change. The blend of pragmatic and principled resistance was further highlighted in other elements of Hailey’s interview. Hailey:… it’s a symbolic power. So, it is a power that, although at times we are defeated by the police, or we are kicked off the road. Um, but we know that we still hold the power of peace, and peace is a stronger force than violence. Um, I think, I think that is a different understanding of power as well, so I think in society our understanding of power is force, um, over other people. Whereas with nonviolence there is an idea of power being a shared power and a power of, the power of like empowering other people. So like a power of community and I think love is a power as well. And I think that is a key part of nonviolence.

Nonviolence did not always seem to be the most powerful or most pragmatic means in Hailey’s refection. Perhaps it can be argued that her protest group failed to implement nonviolence properly or failed to choose the right style of NVDA. However, Hailey points out this failure to make a bigger point. Nonviolence for Hailey isn’t just about addressing the immediate violence, but rather it is about addressing the bigger problem of the lack of ‘peace’ and ‘love’ in society. Resisting the subjective violence of war is only part of the picture and purpose of her protest. The larger purpose of her protest is to counter the dominant understanding that ‘power is force’ and instead promote the idea that ‘love is power’. ‘Love is power’ suggest resistance to more than subjective forms of violence but also resistance to the objective cultural narrative and legitimation of violence.

5.3.2 Symbolic Power Hailey describes nonviolence as a ‘symbolic power’. The nature of the connection between violence and power is a reoccurring theme in the participant’s interviews. In Hailey’s reflection, nonviolence is a form or means of power and an alternative to the power of force or violence. The implications and problems of equating violence with power were also discussed in the previous chapter. I argued that one of the outcomes of this conflation is that violence can appear to be everywhere and nowhere, making it no longer a useful concept for analysis. However, I also argued that violence is everywhere in the stories and experiences of these young people. Further to this, I offered a reframing arguing that rather than violence being everywhere, it could be

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described as being in all directions. Whichever direction these young people turned, they found violence. This is further reinforced by the stories examined so far in this chapter. Examining these young people’s attempts and techniques to prevent subjective violence, has identified the complicity of these techniques with objective systems and structures of violence. The description of violence in all directions has the advantage of maintaining violence as a distinct phenomenon, but also emphasises the connection between subjective and embedded objective violence is in Western society. In this light, the seemingly utopic statement ‘love is power’ can be understood differently. Rather than an idealistic fantasy, it is a statement of resistance to the dominant narrative of violence. Discussing the role of discourse in shaping people’s lives, Strega (2005) argues that people can only ‘speak ourselves or be spoken into existence within the terms of available discourses’ (Strega, 2005, p. 219). Moreover, according to Foucault, there is no one single discourse, but rather a multiplicity. Some of these discourses are more dominant than others, but there are ‘allowances for the complex and unstable process[es]’ (Foucault, 2008, p. 100). As such, the statement ‘love is power’ is the articulation of an alternative (non-dominant) discourse. It doesn’t describe in detail the practical action required to prevent violence. Instead, ‘love is power’ is resistance to the objective system of cultural legitimation of violence and a beginning point for an alternative discourse. Hailey’s description of nonviolence as a ‘symbolic power’ and her appeal to the power of love invokes Bourdieu’s (2001) claim that symbolic violence is transmitted through ‘symbolic channels of communication and cognition (more precisely misrecognition), recognition, or even feeling’ (p. 1). Moreover, challenging the dominant narrative of violence through symbolic power connects with Bourdieu’s description of the process required to challenge domination through symbolic violence. He prescribes ‘dehistoricization’ of ‘the state of the system of agents and institutions—family, church, state, educational system, etc’ (Bourdieu, 2001, p. 83). Hailey employs nonviolence and the power of love as a means of resistance to the justifying and legitimising cultural and objective systems of violence within these institutions. The legitimising cultural narrative of violence is described in greater detail by John. In the previous chapter, John articulates his understanding of the money spent on war as being tantamount to ‘robbing the poor’. He went on to describe what he thought is needed to counter the cultural legitimation of violence and war. John: Um, in terms of addressing attitudes to war… it would be helpful for there to be… a more comprehensive story that is not just, um, talking about goodies and baddies but is kind of tapping into some of the deeper issues in society. Or is first seeking to understand other cultures rather than assuming that from the limited information that is given by people in power that is entirely correct and is, therefore, the basis for quite, radical and quite, um, important decisions in terms of using violence or coercion to address a situation.

The ‘comprehensive story’ about ‘goodies and baddies’ is the story of violence that legitimises the separation of ‘self’ and ‘other’. This discourse justifies violence by establishing the other as altogether different from ‘us’ (Galtung, 1996, p. 91). The other is someone who is ‘unruly’ and ‘in need of taming’ (Taylor, 2012, p. 37). Wink (1998) describes the ‘comprehensive story’ of violence in Western society

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as the ‘Myth of Redemptive Violence’ (p. 42). Furthermore, he argues that this dominant discourse of violence ‘enshrines the belief that violence saves, that war brings peace, that might makes right’ (p. 42). Violence is the ‘dominant religion’ of Western society, requiring of its ‘devotees an absolute obedience-unto-death’ (p. 42). This myth is observable within cultural stories, news media, political systems and notably in children’s entertainment. The storyline of redemptive violence follows a consistent pattern. First, the hero (usually male) comes under siege by a seemly undefeatable other (typically a minority group or a force of nature). Escaping near defeat (and usually near death) by the narrowest of margins, the hero retreats to regroup. Then the hero returns, and through a feat of violence defeats the other and claims the prize (typically the adoration of a supposedly subordinate group: e.g. a female heterosexual partner). This story is repeated in comic books, local hero news stories, sports, domestic political contests and foreign policy exploits. This myth reinforces not only the effectiveness of violence but also the subordination of othered minorities.

5.3.3 The Comprehensive Story Berdayes and Berdayes (2016) argue that the story of violence is proliferated and exported through global commercial media (p. 72). They argue that the neoliberal policies of both Democratic and Republican governments in 1970s in the United States of America disintegrated market regulation of media companies facilitating the colonisation of new global communication technologies by global media conglomerates (p. 72). Furthermore, they argue that ‘violence [is] an economic linchpin of the global entertainment industry’ (p. 76). Violence is ‘bundled with simple but compelling narratives’ as it ‘easily translates across cultures’ (p. 75). The influence of these global media conglomerates and their stories is captured by Gerbner (1999). …children are born into homes where mass-produced stories reach them on the average more than seven hours a day. Most waking hours, and often dreams, are filled with these stories. The stories do not come from families, schools, churches, neighborhoods, and often not even from their native countries. They come from a small group of distant conglomerates with something to sell. (Gerbner, 1999)

The connection between neoliberalism and the proliferation of violence is a central concern for Berdayes and Berdayes (2016). It is also the primary concern of the next chapter of this book. ‘Neoliberal Violence’ is the term Giroux uses to describe the ‘systemic disinvestment in and breakdown of institutions and public spheres which have provided the minimal conditions for democracy’ (2014, p. 226). Furthermore, it is Berdayes and Murphy’s (2016) contention that neoliberalism is a ‘discourse whose assumptions and influence on contemporary institutions normalize violence’ (p. 1). Berdayes and Murphy (2016) argue that the neoliberal rationale has invaded social and political spheres. Furthermore, they argue that this domination is so complete that it renders moral arguments against violence utopian (p. 2). The dominance of

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this violent neoliberal rationale in the dreams of young people is illustrated in Lucas’ thoughts on the potential to prevent violence in contemporary society. Lucas: But if everyone was to renounce violence, we would be living in a kind of euphoric utopia… Think about how many jobs would be lost… without violence there wouldn’t be people being injured. Without people being injured the hospitals would go down by a significant amount. But that would be good. Therefore, we could use them for what we need them to be used for. Like vaccines and treating people with all sorts of whatnot.

Lucas’ vision of a society without violence is an unlikely ‘euphoric utopia’. It is a mixed vision where it is likely ‘many jobs would be lost’, but in which resources could be directed towards other issues like disease and illness. A society free from violence appears to be a dream. This dream also contains the concerns of neoliberal discourse. In Lucas’ ‘euphoric utopian’ dream, his first concern is for the job losses that might result from violence prevention. This concern reflects the dominance of economic rationales and the neoliberal agenda in contemporary discourse. Berdayes and Murphy (2016) describe the invasion of this rationale into social and political spheres as the ‘total market’ (p. 4). The primary concern of a social intervention like violence prevention is measured by Lucas and in a ‘total market’ in terms of the potential impact on the economy. Human life is valued primarily in terms of an individual’s ability to participate in the workforce (Lohmeyer, 2017). The cultural violence of neoliberalism is invading not only Lucas’ social and political life but also his dreams. Nathan: To stop people being violent. Leave out loads of marijuana (laughs). Do it. That would so end the problem for good eh? (laughs)… It would just be the new national plant and it should be distributed in pharmacy medicine to every human being. And then everyone would be happy. And hungry and it would boost the economy. Like everyone would be eating up all this food and it would be killer (laughs).

Nathan also articulates a humorous and euphoric violence prevention strategy, that contains the dominant logic of the economy. His joke also contains multiple layers of resistance and conformity. The justification of his violence prevention strategy in terms of the economy demonstrates again the reach of the total market. However, the humour of this joke requires an awareness of the clash between, first, the socially unacceptable nature of the preventions strategy, and, second, the political dominance of economic rationales. The joke is only funny if the reference to the economy is understood ironically in connection to the provision of an illegal substance. Nathan’s social and political awareness counters the dominant assumptions about young people, like Nathan, who experience poverty or encounter the juvenile justice system. Furthermore, his humour in the face of hegemony renders the discourse of violence ‘fragile and makes it possible to thwart it’ (Foucault, 2008, p. 100). Through humour and euphoric visions, these young people are making what Giroux describes as ‘diverse claims on the promise of a radical democracy, articulating what a fair and just world might be’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 226). Jackson: You can never prevent stuff like that… I mean like you can stop it. But you can’t prevent it forever… Because people are going to get angry. Like, unless you give everyone an altered lobotomy.

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Jackson offers a slightly grimmer, yet still intentionally humorous vision for violence prevention. He jokes that nothing short of mass brain surgery could undo aggressive human nature. In his contemplation on youth and the violence of neoliberalism, Giroux (2014) argues that young people are ‘no longer the place where society reveals its dreams but increasingly hides its nightmares’ (p. 224). Lucas, Nathan and Jackson’s somewhat satirical and nightmarish utopian dreams also contain veiled neoliberal discourses. However, like Hailey, their humour and euphoria also express visions of a radical and hopeful future. Giroux (2014) argues for the needs for ‘the Politics of Educated Hope’. This, he suggests, articulates a ‘radical vision in which the future does not imitate the present’ (p. 236). Lucas and Hailey’s appeal to love, as well as Lucas, Nathan and Jackson’s cynical utopian visions contain this radical significance of a future in which society does not imitate the logic of the present that legitimises violence. These young people’s visions appear unrealistic under the dominant logic of violence. However, through creativity, humour and radical appeals to love and hope, the discourses of objective violence are proven to be unstable. In these young people’s accounts, subjective and behavioural violence is understood as part of a larger system. Resisting subjective violence requires also resisting objective violence that begins with challenging the dominant discourses and narratives of violence.

5.3.4 The Language of Violence Dave, and other young people in this chapter, question the effectiveness of resisting subjective violence, without also resisting objective violence. In his interview, Dave describes his disappointment and inability to find alternative non-violent performativities. His journey to learn about the nonviolent resistance techniques in Palestine did not provide him with the alternatives he had hoped for. The people of Palestine did not have the answer, the response, to violence he wanted. Dave: It wasn’t a good enough response for me. I think it was an understandable response. And I also hated Israel, and I was not nonviolent over there. I became incredibly violent. I wanted, I wanted them all to die (laughs). Um, but, I think my point with my issue with nonviolence was that there wasn’t yet, ah, the language for nonviolence in Palestine. And even as I say that, I don’t know how to unpack that further.

Dave continues to question the effectiveness of resisting subjective violence and describes his capitulation to the conforming power and hegemony of the objective systems of violence. Dave’s experience in Palestine reinforce his docility and the normality of violence. Rather than providing him with new alternative performativities to violence, he says he ‘became incredibly violent’. Violence was the only performativity available to him. He went to Palestine hoping to find ‘language’ and knowledge to enact new realities and perform alternative subjectivities. He describes what he found as a deficit of language. This deficiency of language extended to an inability to ‘unpack that further’.

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Foucault was once asked if ‘the Greeks’ are a viable alternative in the ethical vacuum left by the departure of religion from mainstream discourse (Foucault, 1997, p. 256). The young people in this book, like Dave, are searching for alternatives to the language of violence or what Wink describes as the ‘dominant religion’ that is violence in Western society (p. 42). While this religion has not departed, as in the case with the question that was posed to Foucault, Dave has identified that there is a vacuum of viable alternatives. Foucault responds that his position was that of ‘hyper-and pessimistic activism’ (Foucault, 1997, p. 256). He rejects the ‘solutions’ offered by people from another time. Instead, he thought the ‘ethico-political choice we have to make every day’ (p. 256) is to consider what is dangerous, and what can be done about it. His choice was to situate his response and resistance in the present. Some argue that Foucault’s position is nihilistic because he states that ‘it is not up to us to propose’ new language, as doing so can only result in its own forms of subjugation (Foucault, 1988, p. 197). However, others, including Bacchi, argue that this does not reflect Foucault’s position (Bacchi, 2009, p. 237). Instead, Foucault’s ‘hyper-and pessimistic activism’ is a questioning of dangerous normative discourses and their claims of neutrality. The way forward is to ‘pay less attention to the contents and sources of discourse/s and more attention to the effects’ (Bacchi, 2009, p. 238). This means to consider how discourses advantage some and disadvantage others, and to take ‘the side of those who are harmed’ (Bacchi, 2009, p. 44). This approach draws on the broad narratives and discourses but considers their effects in a situated experience. Through this struggle, the ‘positive conditions emerge’ (Foucault, 1988, p. 197) for new discourses through which new realities can be spoken into existence. Through embodying and enacting humorous euphoric and utopian but imperfect responses to the dominant performativities these participants are struggling to create the conditions for alternative and hopeful futures. Dave’s appeal for new language to challenge the language of violence echoes Hailey’s account of ‘symbolic power’ and Bourdieu’s account of the reproduction of domination through means of conscious and unconscious communication (Bourdieu, 2001, p. 83). Furthermore, the conceptualisation of violence in symbolic terms rests on an understanding of violence in the broad terms of violation, and power in its disseminated forms. Von Holt describes violence as ‘a way of speaking’ (von Holdt, 2013, p. 127). Similarly, Hearn argues that violence is a ‘form of knowledge’ (Hearn, 2013, p. 164). Violence can be a means to resist the discourses of power and speak a new reality into existence. However, participants’ reflections suggest that this new reality is likely to be mixed and messy, as violence can both support and corrupt the emergence of the political space (Grinberg, 2013, p. 208; von Holdt, 2013, p. 116). Furthermore, the dominant narratives of violence often speak knowledge of the world in binary terms: victims and perpetrators (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 199). This binary produces a reality with violated and violating subjectivities. To resist and find alternatives to the systems of subjective and objective violation experienced by these young people, requires knowledge and language that provide and inspire alternatives to symbolic and structural violence.

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Under the influence of the hegemony of violence, Dave ‘hated Israel’ and was ‘not nonviolent over there’. Dave has not found the language and alternative performativities to resist violence he seeks, and neither does he have the words to fully describe the experience of failing to find this new language. There exists only a vague notion of what is missing, and what he is seeking. New language might not be the complete solutions to the problem of violence. However, without language it is difficult to begin to find new alternatives. Fraser and Taylor (2016) argue the fragility of discourse provides ‘opportunities for dissident thinking and new acts of resistance’ (p. 35). That is to say, ‘people do not always do as they are told’ (p. 35). Dave’s description of a deficit in language itself poses an opportunity for the development of new language. Though not yet fully articulated, Dave’s desire for a new language is a form of resistance as he grasps for a radical reordering of the objective logic of violence.

5.4 Conclusion The idea of resistance is important to describe the agency and activities of young people concerning violence. Despite its problematic nature, resistance describes an oppositional orientation that has the intention to improve the world. The idea of resistance risks positioning young people as reactive or responsive. However, this is not inappropriate considering the approach in this book to study how the violence to young people shapes the violence by young people. This chapter examines how young people resist the violence done to them and how they attempt to enact alternatives to the available violent performativities as leaders of social change. Resistance, therefore, is an appropriate and necessary term. The young people in this chapter describe a wide range of resistance techniques that focus on preventing or disrupting subjective violence, through to challenging systems of objective violence. These young people articulate creative, humorous and cynical responses to the oppressive performativities of violence that appear to be in all directions. Their conscious intention does not always appear to contain radical significance. However, under analysis their techniques often challenge, manipulate and disrupt the interconnected systems of subjective and objective violence. These solutions are also messy and compromised, and these young people are pessimistic about the potential to enact violence-free solutions. The messiness of these young people’s creative articulations erodes the preconceived distinction between those young people who are typically associated with violence, such as those involved with the justice system. It proves the victim/perpetrator binary to be a false dichotomy as young people who are typically perceived to be perpetrators develop highly effective spontaneous violence prevention techniques and young people involved in NVDA recognise their complicity and docility to objective violence. Conceptualising young people’s resistance to violence as complex and creative articulations to the dominant language, discourses or religion of violence that produce violent performativities counters the overly simplistic

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notions of resistance typically ascribed to young people. Instead, a complex understanding of young people’s resistance and capacity emerges which emphasises their potential as competent and reflexive actors. Raby (2005) describes discursive resistance as deploying alternative discourses to challenge the dominant discourse and render it fragile. In these young people’s stories, they describe a ‘hyper-and pessimistic’ (Foucault, 1997, p. 256) pursuit of alternatives to violence. These attempts contain a radical significance as they reject the religious devotion until death required by the comprehensive story of violence (Wink, 1998, p. 42). Their resistance is not perfect, as many of their attempts unintentionally enact violent discourses or fail to challenge the systems of objective violence. However, in a vacuum of alternatives, they continue to act to make their worlds better.

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Fraser, H., & Taylor, N. (2016). Neoliberalisation, universities and the public intellectual. UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Galtung, J. (1996). Peace by peaceful means: Peace and conflict, development and civilization. London: Sage Publications. Gerbner, G. (1999). The stories we tell. Peace Review, 11(1), 9–15. https://doi.org/10.1080/104026 59908426225. Giroux, H. A. (2014). Resisting youth and the crushing state violence of neoliberalism. In A. Kamp & P. Kelly (Eds.), A critical youth studies for the 21st century (pp. 223–239). Boston: Brill. Grinberg, L. L. (2013). Resistance, politics and violence: The catch of the Palestinian struggle. Current sociology, 61(2), 206–225. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456506. Hearn, J. (2013). The sociological significance of domestic violence: Tensions, paradoxes and implications. Current sociology, 61(2), 152–170. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456503. Hynes, M. (2013). Reconceptualizing resistance: Sociology and the affective dimension of resistance. The British journal of sociology, 64(4), 559–577. https://doi.org/10.1111/1468-4446. 12038. Irvine, L. (2008). Animals and sociology. Sociology Compass, 2(6), 1954–1971. https://doi.org/10. 1111/j.1751-9020.2008.00163.x. Johansson, T., & Lalander, P. (2012). Doing resistance–youth and changing theories of resistance. Journal of Youth Studies, 15(8), 1078–1088. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2012.693591. Julien, C. (2015). Bourdieu, social capital and online interaction. Sociology, 49(2), 356–373. https:// doi.org/10.1177/0038038514535862. Kelly, P. (2011). An untimely future for youth studies? Youth Studies Australia, 30(3), 47. Lohmeyer, B. A. (2017). Youth and their workers: The interacting subjectification effects of neoliberal social policy and NGO practice frameworks. Journal of Youth Studies, 20(12), 1263–1276. https://doi.org/10.1080/13676261.2017.1321109. Raby, R. (2005). What is resistance? Journal of Youth Studies, 8(2), 151–171. https://doi.org/10. 1080/13676260500149246. Schubert, S. (2016, 27 July). Four corners: Dylan Voller, former NT juvenile detention centre inmates sue Government over mistreatment. ABC News. http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-0726/dylan-voller-former-nt-juvenile-detention-centre-inmates-sue/7661408. Senate Select Committee to Study Governmental Operations. (1976). Book III: Supplementary detailed staff reports on intelligence activities and the rights of Americans, 94th congress, 2nd session. Washington, USA: U.S Government Printing Office. Sercombe, H. (2003). Reflections on youth violence. Youth Studies Australia, 22(1), 25–30. Sercombe, H. (2010). Youth work ethics. London: SAGE Publications. Strega, S. (2005). The view from the poststructural margins. In L. A. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as resistance (pp. 199–235). Toronto: Canadian Scholars Press. Tait, G. (1993). Youth, personhood and ‘practices of the self’: Some new directions for youth research. Journal of Sociology, 29(1), 40–54. https://doi.org/10.1177/144078339302900103. Taylor, N. (2012). Animals, mess, method: Post-humanism, sociology and animal studies. In L. Birke & J. Hockenhull (Eds.), Crossing boundaries: Investigating human-animal relationships (Vol. 14, pp. 37–50). Leiden: Brill. von Holdt, K. (2013). The violence of order, orders of violence: Between Fanon and Bourdieu. Current sociology, 61(2), 112–131. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392112456492. Weber, T. (2003). Nonviolence is who? Gene sharpe and gandhi. Peace & Change, 28(2), 250–270. https://doi.org/10.1111/1468-0130.00261. White, R., & Wyn, J. (2011). Youth and society: Exploring the social dynamics of youth experience (2nd ed.). South Melbourne, Victoria: Oxford University Press. Wink, W. (1998). The powers that be: Theology for a new millennium. New York: Double Day. Wyn, J., & White, R. (1997). Rethinking youth. London: SAGE. Zizek, S. (2008). Violence: Six sideways reflections. London, UK: Profile Books LTD.

Chapter 6

Neoliberal Violence and Marketised Youth Services

In Chap. 2, I argued that to understand young people’s experience of violence in contemporary society it is useful to centralise violence and disintegrate it from power. This approach makes visible the systems of objective violence that produce violent performativities through which young people enact subjective violence. I focussed on outlining the systems of subjective and objective violence, and momentarily put aside the uniquely neoliberal nature of contemporary systems of violence. In this chapter, I return to Giroux’s (2014) description of the ‘merging of violence and governance’ (p. 226) as neoliberal violence and argue that this language is useful to make visible the violating effects of neoliberalism on young people’s lives. Neoliberalism and the dominance of a competitive market rationale construct individualising and highly regulated performativities for young people that deny them access to the promises of participation and justice afforded to previous generations. Giroux (2014) describes neoliberal violence as being produced by the rise of extreme inequality, the dominance of economic rationale and institutions, and the marginalisation of young people through the deliberate under-resourcing and dissolution of public access to education, employment and social services (p. 224). Since 2014, scholars including the contributors to Berdayes and Murphy’s 2016 edited collection Neoliberalism, Economic Radicalism, and the Normalization of Violence have filled out the idea of neoliberal violence. Berdayes and Murphy offer ‘a rich tapestry of critical theorizing about the relationship of forms of physical and symbolic violence in a global world’ (p. v). They argue that ‘neoliberalism [is] a discourse whose assumptions and influence on contemporary institutions normalise violence’ (p. 1). Contributors to their volume explore this notion by considering the effects of neoliberalism on education, cultural narratives of heroic entrepreneurship, the impacts of unregulated global commercial media and the transformation of work. Missing from Berdayes and Murphy’s volume is an understanding of the unique impacts of neoliberal violence on young people, as well as the effects of neoliberalism on the social services and institutions provided to young people. The hollowing-out of the welfare state is a well-documented phenomenon. Attracting less attention is the impact of the creation of a market for funding nongovernment community © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 B. A. Lohmeyer, Youth and Violent Performativities, Perspectives on Children and Young People 11, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-5542-8_6

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services that resulted from outsourcing the delivery of services previously provided by the welfare state. Virtually unexplored is the effects that this marketisation has on youth service practice and the service users (young people). This chapter begins to fill the gap in the literature around young people’s perceptions and experiences of the effects of marketisation on youth services. The notion of neoliberal violence Giroux describes, and the contributors to Berdayes and Murphy’s edited collection, provides the scaffold to examine the uniquely violating effects of neoliberalism on young people through the hollowing-out of the welfare state. This chapter focusses in on restorative practices and the principles of ‘Fair Process’ (Kim & Mauborgne, 2003) as an exemplar of the effects of marketisation on youth service practice. I start this chapter by providing parameters for an understanding of neoliberalism and the seemly ever-increasing diversity of issues attributed to it. Following this, I introduce the principles of Fair Process as the focus of critical examination in this chapter. This chapter draws attention to the idea of neoliberal violence and the effects of neoliberalism on youth services by focussing on this specific example. Rather than conducting a macro-theoretical analysis that would obscure young people’s voices, focussing this chapter in this way facilitates young people’s contribution to the analysis of this modern form of violence and emphasises the incongruencies with the rich complexity of their lives. As such the subsequent section of the chapter lays out the three main responses from participant to Fair Process. I argue that the objections that these young people have to the principles are not revelatory. However, participants’ objections raise new questions about how these seemingly incompatible principles have infiltrated community service practice. The chapter concludes with a discussion that steps back from the specifics of Fair Process and positions it as an exemplar of the effect of neoliberal violence on youth services and subsequently on young people’s lives.

6.1 Neoliberalism: Violating Liberal-Paternalist Governance Neoliberalism is a ‘notoriously fuzzy category’ (Watts, 2013, p. 117). Dean (2014) argues neoliberalism is ‘irreducible to a simple and coherent philosophy or ideology’ (p. 151). Similarly, Rowlands and Rawolle (2013) argue that neoliberalism ‘presents something of a moving target for researchers’ (p. 262). However, in their 2013 paper ‘Neoliberalism is not a theory of everything’, they also argue that there is a need to define and deconstruct neoliberalism so that it can be understood and resisted. They argue that this absence of definition and nuance regarding the term neoliberalism risks creating misunderstandings in ways that are ‘contrary to our original intentions’ (p. 269). It is essential, therefore, that I provide some parameters to the definition of neoliberalism used in this book.

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Dean (2014) suggests that neoliberalism is best defined in terms of its opposition to ‘economic protection, state economic planning, state intervention, state regulation and mass social programs, all of which allegedly lead down the slippery slope of totalitarianism’ (pp. 151–152). Here neoliberalism is positioned primarily as a movement away from the welfare state and government service provision. However, this definition’s oppositional nature provides a picture of what neoliberalism is not, rather than what it is. The trap of this approach is the potential to uncritically invoke Rhodes’ (1994) ‘hollowing out of the welfare state’, and a nostalgic appeal to a bygone era that uncritically reinforces the idea that neoliberalism represents a movement towards ‘small government’. Since the 1960’s the failures of the welfare state to deliver on promises to solve ‘poverty, inequalities in education and health provision and … public housing’ (Skelcher, 2000, p. 5) became increasingly clear. Rhodes (1994) describes a process of ‘hollowing out’ through which governments sought more efficient and effective solutions to social issues through the market (Skelcher, 2000, p. 4). Governments became the ‘purchasers, rather than … providers, of services’ (Healy, 2009, p. 402), and began ‘steering not rowing’ (Taylor, 2000, p. 49). However, Holliday (2000), Skelcher (2000) and Taylor (2000) argue that this hollowing out shouldn’t be confused with a reduction in power or size of the state. Instead, I argue, it is traditional public sector values such as justice and participation that were hollowed out. In broad terms, I approach neoliberalism in this book as the moral privileging of market solutions (Bacchi, 2009, p. 276; Watts, 2013, p. 117) with an emphasis on individual property rights (Fraser & Taylor, 2016, p. 3). Neoliberalism draws from the principles of economic liberalism but moves beyond them into what has been labelled a ‘market fundamentalism’ (Heywood, 2003, p. 55). Rowlands and Rawolle (2013) assert that neoliberalism goes as far as offering direction for ‘the achievement of personal success and, even, of happiness’ (p. 263). Another aspect that distinguishes neoliberalism from economic liberalism is the responsibility to ‘actively foster business’ (Rowlands & Rawolle, 2013, p. 264). According to Wacquant, to achieve this the neoliberal state has three aims: ‘Erasing the economic state, dismantling the social state, [and] strengthening the penal state’ (Wacquant, 2001, p. 404). Heywood (2003) argues that neoliberalism is not concerned about the ‘growing power of transnational corporations’ and the implications for democracy, and as such it has ‘difficulty reconciling unbridled consumerism’ with ‘any meaningful notion of human flourishing’ (Heywood, 2003, pp. 56–57). These notions are underpinned by Hayek’s argument that government intervention in the market is the greatest threat to individual liberty (Heywood, 2003, p. 55). Individual freedom and happiness in neoliberalism are tied to unrestricted market capitalism. Wacquant (2001) argues that neoliberal policies resulting in a casualised labour market, social degradation, and precarious wage work create a need to manage the ‘lower end of the social structure in advanced societies’ (p. 401). Wacquant (2001) goes on to argue that the ‘invisible hand’ of the market requires an ‘iron fist’ of the state to ‘check the disorders generated by the diffusion of social insecurity’ (p. 402). This results in a ‘penalization of poverty’ (Wacquant, 2001, p. 401). This version

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of the social contract requires good citizens to contribute to the economy (Fawcett, Goodwin, Meagher, & Phillips, 2010, p. 68), while those who fail to do so are positioned as ‘defaulting labourers’ (Berns, 2002, p. 25). As such Wacquant (2001) believes neoliberal regimes can best be described as ‘liberal-paternalist’ (p. 402). Neoliberal regimes are liberal in economic terms as they prioritise market freedoms. However, they are paternalistic and punitive toward social values and state protections (Wacquant, 2001, p. 401). Neoliberalism’s approach to advancing individual liberty has been captured by a cry for ‘small government’ (Rowlands & Rawolle, 2013, p. 264). However, it is insufficient to say that neoliberal governments are small governments. Wacquant (2001) argues that the people who were calling for the ‘end of big government’ (p. 401) in social and economic spheres are the same people who are ‘glorifying the penal state’ (p. 401) and who lobby governments to invest (economically and politically) in the ‘right to security’ (p. 402). Neoliberal governments might be hollowing out, but they are not necessarily shrinking. One result, Wacquant argues, of the rise of liberal-paternalist governance is the ‘substituting [of] judges for social workers and educators’ to warn and educate young people away from breaking the law (2001, p. 407). On the surface, this could appear to be a positive movement away from punitive governance. This approach aligns well with the rise of alternative avenues for achieving justice, such as restorative justice. However, this shift comes in the context of the hollowing out of the welfare state and marketisation of social services. Hence, the shift away from formal and theoretically transparent mechanism for punishment towards disseminated networks of community-based systems of control like restorative justice requires critical examination. The foundational values and ethics of community-based workers such as educators and social workers, including ideas like justice and participation, are antithetical to the emphasis on efficiency of market-based solutions. However, I argue that the logic of the ‘total market’ (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016b, p. 4) has come to dominate and distort the emancipatory values of these professions. Neoliberal violence, according to Giroux (2014) represents the ‘commercial carpet-bombing’ of modernity, where the promises of the social contract are being substituted with systems of ‘violence, cruelty, and disposability’ (p. 226). This ‘hollowing out’ of the welfare state is in effect an abandonment of the promises of education, employment and security afforded to previous generations (Giroux, 2014, p. 226). It is a violation by governments of the social contract underpinning collective governance. Berdayes and Murphy (2016a) describe neoliberal violence as the ‘radical violence associated with the economic theses of neoliberalism’ (p. 1). They present ‘neoliberal economics as a form of violent radicalism’ and ‘a discourse whose assumptions and influence on contemporary institutions normalize violence’ (p. 1). Neoliberal rationale justifies the outsourcing of public services to achieve market efficiencies through a network of educators and social workers who regulate populations of undeserving poor for the benefit of business and economic interests. This market fundamentalism ignores the human suffering that results from the incompatibility between economic rationale and the complexities of human lives and communities.

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As outlined in Chap. 2, the effect of the hollowing out of the welfare state on young people’s lives includes increasingly precarious employment, housing and marketised education. MacDonald (2016), as well as Cuervo and Wyn (2016), describe the violating impact of the growing precarity of youth unemployment, and importantly under-employment, where the young people today are no longer deemed worthy to receive the support previously provided (Te Riele, 2006, p. 132; Wyn & Woodman, 2007, p. 504). Rather than being provided with support and secure transitions from education to work, young people are left to the mercy of the market. This chapter unpacks the effects of neoliberal violence on community workers and educators operating within marketised funding arrangement that emphasises efficiency and penalises the democratic moorings of the profession. I argue that as a result of the invasion of neoliberal rationale into human services funding arrangements, community services workers have become an extension of the neoliberal state. The result is a market-based carceral-network of state surveillance that dehumanises both the worker and young people in pursuit of the production of docile but violent neoliberal citizens. To explore these effects, I focus in on the effects of the total market on the popular youth practice modality, restorative practices.

6.2 Restorative Practices and Fair Process The practices and principles of restorative justice have been developed by a range of theorists and practitioners including Braithwaite (1989, 1997, 1999, 2000), Daly (2002), Daly and Hayes (2001), Ritchie and O’Connell (2001), Wachtel (1997, 2013), White and Graham (2013) and Zehr (1995, 2002a, 2002b). The foundations of restorative justice are debated and occasionally include questionable myths and foundations in indigenous practices (Daly, 2002, pp. 61–63). The theoretical foundations of restorative approaches are typically constructed on the sociology of deviance (Braithwaite, 1989, p. 16; 1999, p. 42) and affect-psychology (Wachtel, 2012, p. 2). Restorative justice’s contribution to the understanding and implementation of justice is its focus on harm and the restoration of relationships (Wachtel, 2012, p. 4; Zehr, 2002b, p. 19). The principles and values of restorative justice have more recently been applied to a wider set of practices and contexts including education, youth work and social work under the banner of ‘restorative practices’ (Braithwaite, 1999, p. 42; Wachtel, 2012, p. 2). South Australia incorporated restorative justice conferencing with young people into the legal justice system in 1993 (Daly & Hayes, 2001, p. 2). Following South Australia’s lead, similar restorative justice conferencing processes have now been adopted by all the other Australian states and territories (Joudo-Larsen, 2014, p. vi). In addition to government agencies, Non-Government Organisations (NGOs) have adopted restorative frameworks to guide the delivery of services in education settings or case management that are not directly related to the justice system (Lohmeyer, 2017a, 2017b). Compared to punitive approaches traditionally utilised by formal justice systems that emphasise punishment and deterrence for rule-breaking (Wenzel,

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Okimoto, Feather, & Platow, 2008, p. 375; White & Graham, 2013, p. 44), restorative justice and practices’ focus on the harm and repair of relationships is philosophically attractive to NGOs (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 167). A focus on healing, rather than punishment (Van Wormer, 2009, p. 107) aligns better with the ethical and philosophical orientations of non-government youth providers and youth work practice. The contrast between punishment and healing is captured by Zehr (2002b). The dominant punitive justice paradigm conceptualises crime, or what Zehr (2002b) broadly refers to as ‘wrongdoing’, in terms of the violation of the law. This approach aims to discover ‘Who is to blame?’ The establishment of blame results in the distribution of an appropriate punishment (Zehr, 2002b, p. 21). Zehr contrasts this to the restorative approach which positions crime as ultimately a violation of a person or people and interpersonal relationships. This approach aims to discover ‘Who has been hurt?’ and subsequently ‘What are their needs?’ The needs of the victim are understood as obligations that need to be responded to and repaired. Hence, the next step is to determine ‘Whose obligations are these?’ (Zehr, 2002b, p. 21). In short, restorative justice centres around repairing relationships that are harmed by wrongdoing and hence align well to the ethical orientation of community service professionals. Restorative practices continue to be developed and refined. Australian restorative justice pioneer O’Connell (2018) believes ‘the best is yet to come’. Through the process of development, the International Institute of Restorative Practices (IIRP) have added the principles of Fair Process as a central tenant in their version of restorative practices. Based in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania the IIRP have a global footprint with affiliates and partners across the Americas, Europe, Australia and Singapore (International Institute of Restorative Practices, 2019). Fair Process is introduced as a series of principles to guide those in authority to work ‘with’ people rather than doing things ‘to’ them (Wachtel, 2013, p. 8). These principles have not necessarily been adopted by all practitioners of restorative practices. However, IIRP has a large international presence and training program. They offer multiple short courses and graduate programs including a Master of Science in Restorative Practices. Their approach has a significant global reach.

6.3 Fair Process Wachtel argues that people are ‘happier, cooperative and productive’ (2013, p. 8) when Fair Process is observed in restorative practices. The principles of Fair Process are derived from Kim and Mauborgne’s (2003) article ‘Fair process: Managing in the knowledge economy’. The three principles of ‘Fair Process’ are: Engagement — involving individuals in decisions by inviting their input and encouraging them to challenge one another’s ideas; Explanation — clarifying the thinking behind a final decision; and

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Expectation clarity — stating the new rules of the game, including performance standards, penalties for failure, and new responsibilities. (Kim & Mauborgne, 2003, p. 1)

Kim and Mauborgne (2003) developed their principles based on ‘a study of strategic decision making in multinational corporations’ (p. 4) and emphasising, in particular, a case regarding workforce downsizing within an elevator manufacturing company. They argue the result of implementing them correctly is that ‘individuals are most likely to trust and cooperate freely with systems’ (p. 6). They state that Fair Process ‘is not the same as democracy in the workplace’ (p. 6) and that managers retain the right to make the final decision. I argue that Fair Process is an example of the dominant rationale of the ‘total market’ (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016b, p. 4) and the invasion of the social sphere by economic logic. Furthermore, the implementation of Fair Process in youth service provision is an example of neoliberal violence. Kim and Mauborgne (2003) state their main priority is to design efficient management processes for a ‘knowledge-based economy’ (p. 3). As such, any application of Fair Process within social services should invite scepticism and a critical examination of the alignment between the priorities and values of Fair Process and youth services. To conduct this critical examination, I asked the young people in this research project what they thought of the principles of Fair Process, and how they experience the principles if they were to be implemented in the context of their interaction with government and authority figures. Me: It (Fair Process) has three principles. It has engagement. So that means people are engaged… Jackson: These things aren’t all going to start with the same letter, are they? Me: They are actually. How good is that? Jackson: I hate reuse … reuse, reduce and the other one (laughs).

I presented the principles of Fair Process to participants in the context of a conversation about their experiences of government or governing systems. For the young people in this study, this includes the child protection system and the justice system. However, these broad categories include a range of government and non-government services and agencies including police, courts, accommodation services, foster care services, welfare agencies, schools and alternative education services. I asked the participants for their initial impressions and about how they might have applied in the context of their experience.

6.3.1 Narratives of Unfair Process Responding to the principles of Fair Process, participants consistently told a story from their lives. These stories often contain experiences of injustice and unfair treatment by authority figures. Participants also regularly request further context about where and when the principles might be applied. Nathan’s response epitomises the attempt to provide context and apply the principles in context.

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Nathan: Um, got a few fines and shit. And they, that was pretty unfair because um, I, got, like the fines weren’t unfair, like I got a hundred and eighty dollar fine for not wearing a helmet … I got a two hundred and twenty for running across the tracks at Blackwood station. But um, I don’t know it was a bit weird cos they just, like I couldn’t pay them because I had no income at all … All of a sudden, they were just boosting up every month and shit. And then they got to fourteen hundred dollars, and then I was like (sharp intake of breath). And then my Dad ended up paying it cos it was just going up too high. And I had no way of making money … But I owe him that money now.

In his story, Nathan is unable to pay a fine he was given for crossing a railway line in the wrong place, and not wearing a helmet while riding his bike. Nathan’s Dad paying his fine needs to be understood in the context of a household already under financial pressure. Nathan describes his family as not having much money despite his Dad having a ‘high paying job’ because his Dad gambles. In this story, Nathan acknowledges that receiving a fine for breaking the law was fair: ‘… like the fines weren’t unfair’. However, his inability to pay the fine creates an unfair situation. It seems unlikely that in the context of Nathan’s life that ideas like ‘engagement’, ‘explanation’ and ‘expectation clarity’ would result in an experience of fairness. Yet this is what the authors of the principles claim. Kim and Mauborgne argue that people are ‘most likely to trust and cooperate freely with systems—whether they themselves win or lose by those systems—when fair process is observed’ (2003, p. 6). This distinction made here between the process and the outcome by Fair Process is important, and I will return to it later in this chapter. It is introduced here to point out the disconnect between the complexity of the young people’s lives and the simplistic nature of the principles of Fair Process. The desire for context expressed by participants in this study emphasises the complex nature of social problems and the incompatibility of simplistic market solution for social life. Riley also provides context from her life and to test the principles and support her claim that the principles were ‘bullshit’. Riley: Well I call bullshit on expectations and explanation, because they don’t follow through. Like they don’t give you an explanation as to why it happened or … I mean they will give it to you three years down the track. But not when you need it the most. And with expectation they never follow through. Like you ask them to do something for you and they will go ‘yeah we will look into it’, and then you get about three months down the track and you are like ‘So, have you done anything about it?’ And they will be like, ‘oh no sorry I forgot’. And you will be like ‘well that thing’, if it was like a course or something, you will be like ‘well that thing was important to me. I needed to do that’.

In her response, Riley is describing her experience of the practice of social workers in the child protection system. She describes her experience of the child protection system’s inability to respond quickly to her needs. The slow-moving nature of bureaucracies is poorly designed to respond to the everyday needs of children. Young people in the child protection system are often required to gain approval from their social workers to conduct the everyday activities of childhood such as sleeping over at a friend’s place, going on school excursions, replacing essential clothing or school supplies. In Henriksen and Bengtsson’s (2018) research young people recount a lack of response, despite a legal mandate, from social authorities to investigate domestic

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violence in Demark. They argue this lack of response trivialises violence and this effect is evident in participants ‘passive stance to [their] victimization which mirrored the social workers’ responses’ (Henriksen & Bengtsson, 2018, p. 107). In Riley’s case, she is not describing a situation involving domestic violence, but simply the process of seeking permission or access funding for larger items such as training or recreational pursuits. This might seem comparatively inconsequential. However, Riley also later explains that she had ‘more than 20 social workers’ in her 13 years in the system. The point here is about the trivialising effects of a consistent lack of response from social services. Arendt’s (1972) description of bureaucracies as the ‘rule of nobody’ seems appropriate for Riley’s experience in which her life is governed by a series of transient figures representing a system from which she is regularly unable to secure support or accountability. In a similar way to Nathan’s story, the complexity and contingency of Riley’s experience counter the simplicity offered by Fair Process. Clearly communicated ‘expectations’ are useless for Riley if those in authority ‘never follow through’. It could be argued that following through is implicit in the principle of clear expectations. It could also be argued that the problem might be solved by making following through a new principle. However, this ignores Riley’s fundamental concern. She wants action, not words. She wants to improve her life and make her world better. For Nathan and Riley, the experience of fairness is bound up in their context, in their situation and in the things that are ‘important to me’. Nathan’s and Riley’s stories emphasise the need for these principles to be evaluated in context. Namely in the context and complexity of young people’s lives and the society in which they live. Other participants, as per the following examples, requested rather than provided context. Anna: Um, can I just have a bit more of a context?…Yeah. I don’t know, it just seems like you could separate that from the situation which we have been kind of doing conversationally. Um, and evaluate this sort of theoretical construct, you know, which might be a good theoretical construct in and of itself. Might be a perfect one. You know? But if it is still an unjust situation, you know, then it doesn’t really change the situation around it, does it? Addison: Yeah. I don’t know. I guess like … it is fair, but I don’t know, it’s not fair at the same time. It’s really hard. There are just so many different situations that are fair or not fair. Michelle: Um, in a perfect world hey? [laughs] … I think that that sounds quite fair, um, in theory. I wonder how it would go in practice though as a system.

Anna argues that presenting the principles of Fair Process abstractly fails to account for context. She argues they are unlikely to change an ‘unjust situation’. An important theme in the participants’ responses to the principles of Fair Process was to question their abstract formulation and demand context. In the context of their lives, the principles appear overly simplistic. These principles do not account for unjust contexts and the complexity and contingency of the problems in the participant’s lives. The problems participants experienced are best described as ‘wicked problems’ (Valentine, 2015, p. 243).

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…wicked problems, which are contested, messy and provisionally solved, and their differences from non-wicked problems, which are stable, definable and separable, and generally found in the physical sciences. Wicked problems are characterised by uncertainty, emergence and contest … Paradigmatic examples of contemporary wicked problems are child protection, climate change and ‘self-harming’ behaviours such as smoking and unhealthy eating… (Valentine, 2015, p. 243)

Wicked problems, Rittel and Webber (1973) argue, are problems that are steeped in complexity, contingency and uncertainty. Understanding them is contingent upon understanding their unique context (Rittel & Webber, 1973, p. 162). These problems have ‘no clear beginning and no absolute solution, and every problem can also be seen as a symptom of another problem’ (Valentine, 2015, p. 243). ‘Wicked’ does not denote a normative judgement; good or bad, right or wrong, evil or holy (Watts, 2013, p. 126). Rather it speaks to the high degree of difficulty in understanding, let alone solving, the problem. The problem resists a solution, and it is irreducible. A defining characteristic of a wicked problem, according to Watts, is that ‘we cannot even get an agreed-on definition of what the problem is’ (Watts, 2015, p. 162). Nathan and Riley’s stories demonstrate the nature of wicked problems. Their stories contain layers of problems that intersect and are interdependent. Attempting to solve one aspect of the problem potentially makes another aspect worse or creates new problems. It is hard, if not impossible, to know where to start in reforming the child protection system to make it more responsive or tackling the causes and effects of poverty within the justice system. Fairness as an idea is tied to context for these young people. The complexity of their contexts and the problems in them resist the possibility for simplistic solutions. This leads to the second concern participants’ had with the principles; the separation of process and outcome.

6.3.2 Separating Process and Outcome An important explanation of the value of Fair Process for restorative practices (Wachtel, 2012, p. 6) is developed on the basis of Kim and Mauborgne’s claim that decision-making processes guided by these principles might be experienced as fair, even if the outcomes are undesired (Kim & Mauborgne, 2003, p. 11). This idea is dependent on the notion that the process can be separated from the outcome and placed in a hierarchy of importance: the process being more important than the outcome. Presenting this idea, the separation of process and outcome, evoked some direct and confused responses from participants. In one case a participant, Lilly, simply responds to the suggestion of separating process and outcome with a confused ‘what?’ The idea is incomprehensible to her. In the following excerpt, Jackson responds to the question with a story from an alternative-accommodation service he lived in for a time with young people under the guardianship of the state. Government accommodation services in the South Australia child protection system often house multiple young people from a range of different circumstances in the one house. Often the residents have never met before being housed together. On

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some occasions, due to the relatively small number of young people in child protection, a young person might have an unresolved history with another resident. Jackson tells a story of escalating verbal and physical violence between himself and another young person in the group home. This violence led the staff to decide to transfer one young person to another service, and they determined that it was best for Jackson to move. This resulted in him missing out on a regular part of the social program of the service: going to the movies. Me: Do you feel like that decision to move you was fair? Jackson: No. Me: Why not? Jackson: I think that he should have been moved. Me: Ok. Did they use any process? Did they have a conversation with you, or did they just tell you what was happening? Jackson: Not really, they just come up say ‘you’re moving’ and I’m like ‘uuuugggh’ dramatic sigh (laughs). Me: What could they have done to make the process more fair? Jackson: Hmmm. Keep the movie tickets (laughs). Me: Ok, anything else? Jackson: Um, not move me … Moved him. Followed through with the assault charge.

In these accommodation services, young people and staff are unfortunately often caught up in conflict and violence. The nature of the living arrangements and the personal biographies of the young people who live there create an environment that is ripe for conflict. Often it is not clear who or what starts the conflict. Regularly, difficult decisions are made about the safety of the residents and staff based on incomplete or contradictory information. From Jackson’s telling of the story, he is the victim of physical violence. However, at other points in the interview, he describes his tendency to deliberately verbally antagonise other residents. Here, a difficult decision had to be made about the problem of providing a safe living environment for young people and work environment for the staff. Hence, theoretically, the principles of Fair Process should provide an avenue to make a decision that isn’t popular or satisfactory for everyone involved, but that everyone is willing to work with if they experience a ‘fair’ process through which the decision is being made. The above exchange with Jackson skirts around the issue of Fair Process as he diverts attention by making jokes. However, one thing becomes clear as Jackson chooses surprisingly similar words to Riley and appeals to the need for those in authority to ‘follow through’. Jackson wants action to stop the violence in his life. Fair Process is meaningless for Jackson and Riley without a fair outcome. Lilly comes to a similar conclusion as she reflects on her experiences in child protection. Lilly: Ok. Um, I guess in a way like a counsellor would help … But then I guess a counsellor who can actually do something. Because um, we had a CAMHS [Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service] worker for like a little while, but it doesn’t matter how much bad stuff we told them nothing ever happened … So I feel like maybe, that is kind of the social worker’s job though isn’t it? To sort of talk to you and sort of, yeah. I think they just need to listen.

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6 Neoliberal Violence and Marketised Youth Services Me: They just need to listen? Lilly: Yeah … And maybe even like react. Like do something about what you are hearing.

Lilly emphasises the importance of process and listening to young people’s stories. However, she also ultimately emphasises the need to do something with these stories. Action is also required. Change is needed. The outcome is inseparable from the process. An emphasis on process at the expense of outcome risks the bureaucratisation of social institutions (Weber, 1947). These institutions prioritise self-perpetuation and lose sight of their original purpose. In the end the ‘form they take becomes more important than the original function’ (Lederach, 2005, p. 126). The governing of young people’s lives by self-perpetuating bureaucracies echoes Arendt’s (1972) description of the ‘rule of nobody’ and might best be described as process-rule. Separating the process from the outcome in decision making facilitates a focus on implementing the principles of Fair Process without regard for intended (or even unintended) outcomes. The objective becomes simply to implement the principles as the means to achieve fairness. The outcomes are no longer important. The priority is implementing efficient processes, instead of seeking just outcomes through participatory processes. This is a neat way to obscure the complexity and wickedness of social problems. It does not require consideration of the range of new problems and unintended consequences that solutions to wicked problems routinely produce. Me: [is it possible that] you engage with them through a process that you would experience as fair, right? But still not get the outcome that you wanted. Could you, what would that process look like? Harper: I can’t even envision that process … Because if it’s fair then it will have the outcome that we want … Because that is the right outcome … for something to be successful it has to encompass the aspects of climate justice. Or, you know, in Port Augusta we would be thinking about the impact on people of low SES [socioeconomic status]. Um, sort of like it needs to be fair for those people and like the fair outcomes for those people result in the outcomes that we want. So, if a process is fair, then that is where it is going to go. Me: So you can’t detach the ideas of fairness from outcome? Harper: No… No, I don’t think I can. No.

Harper rejects the idea of separating process and outcome. She maintains that it is essential to achieve justice in the outcome for all parties. Fairness in this instance required consideration of the impacts on ‘low SES’ groups, among others. Considering the impact of a process cannot be detached from achieving fair or just outcomes. Hailey raises a similar concern. Hailey: I think despite all the process being followed people might feel that, I guess it just depends on the decision, but I think that if people didn’t get the decision they were happy with there could be a bit of conflict or, yeah.

Rittel and Weber argue that social solutions are dependent on ‘group or personal interests, their special values-sets, and their ideological predilections’ (1973, p. 163). Similarly, Rhodes (1994) argues the public sector is required to act in line with values such as ‘equity and justice’, as it makes decisions within a ‘mosaic of conflicting

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interests’ (p. 144). In contrast, the outsourcing of public services described as the ‘third sector’ approach (Seibel & Anheier, 1990, p. 8) or the ‘third way’ (Selsky & Parker, 2005, p. 853; Wallace & Pease, 2011, p. 135) emphasises economic efficiency above all else (Rhodes, 1994, p. 144). The separation of process and outcome facilitates a focus on what is done, rather than what is achieved. It is the perfectly efficient solution because the process can be easily implemented and accounted for without being answerable for the outcome. The separation of process and outcome is unsatisfactory for participants and led to a third objection they had to the principles.

6.3.3 Non-participatory The idea that people involved in a decision-making process guided by the principles of Fair Process might accept an outcome, even if it is unfair, implies a process of decision making that is never really in their control. People might be involved in a process, but they do not make the final decision. If the outcome is not within the control of the subjects, then neither were they ever really involved in the process of making the decision. When presented with the principles of Fair Process, the young people’s participation in my research felt as if this is the kind of process that would be done to them. The following excerpts are demonstrative of participants scepticism about who has control or decision-making capacity in Fair Process. Anna: Ah, yeah. Ok so it’s, um, Fair Process is what you are calling it? It almost sounds like it is one group of people, like, deciding something for the young people or whoever. Harper: Who makes the decision in this scenario? This situation? Me: Um, it is nonspecific. Harper: Yeah, I’d say that is pretty important. Me: Ok. Tell me more. Why is that important? Harper: Yeah so I would say, um, if you’re making a decision and you are then just explaining it to people, but there is no opportunity for them to change that decision. Or like you are engaging them, but a lot of community engagement is so tokenistic. That it is not actually real community engagement. I would say would be a really big trap. Um, and also that, not only is that a huge trap but then it is who is making that decision? And like when is that decision being made, is that you are engaging that community you are going away to take that engagement and make that decision, coming back and explaining that decision. Or are you making that decision with the community. And therefore, the community is making the decision. Lucas: Yeah that makes perfect sense. That’s why we have a judge and a magistrate. It relates back to the age-old problem of two men and one pie. They both claim ownership of the pie. It gets brought before the pharaoh and the pharaoh says ‘cut the pie in half. Each man shall receive death. And he takes the pie’ (laughs). Me: Ok. Lucas: Instead of cutting it in half as a third party and giving each party a half a pie. He cuts it in half and takes it like the government and kills them (laughs). Me: So how is that an example of Fair Process?

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6 Neoliberal Violence and Marketised Youth Services Lucas: Well it’s not. But Fair Process would be that he took the pie and cut it in half and gave one half to one man and half to the other. That would be fair because it was determined by a third party, who was the higher power at the time.

In contrast to the other aspects of restorative practices theory, which emphasises the need for those in authority work ‘with’ people (Wachtel, 2013, p. 8), these participants interpreted the principles as a process that would be done ‘to’ them. This is Kim and Mauborgne’s (2003) stated intention. Nor is fair process the same as democracy in the workplace. Achieving fair process does not mean that managers forfeit their prerogative to make decisions and establish policies and procedures. Fair process pursues the best ideas whether they are put forth by one or many. (Kim & Mauborgne, 2003, p. 6)

In light of Kim and Mauborgne’s intention, the criticisms offered by young people of Fair Process are ultimately foreseeable. The need for context, the rejection of the separation of process and outcome, and the challenge to the participatory nature of the process are predictable. A cursory glance at well-established models for participation such as Hart’s (1992) or Arnstein’s (1969) Ladders of Participation would likely yield similar conclusions. ‘Calling bullshit’ on the principles, as Riley does, seems a fitting response. Analysing the production of enemies in neoliberal discourse, Bingham and Kramer (2016) point to Frankfurt’s (1988) pamphlet ‘On Bullshit’ in which he bemoans that ‘one of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much bullshit’. Bingham and Kramer (2016) describe the ‘rejection of expert analysis and scientific research’ in contemporary society in favour of the argument that ‘is designed solely to enervate and persuade’ (p. 65). Fair Process has a persuasive quality, however, in the context of these young people’s stories it is revealed to be business management bullshit. Therefore, the insight gained from listening to young people reflections is more than that they reject these principles. Rather, a more signficant insight lies in the question their objections raise: how is it that these business management principles come to be accepted into community and youth service practice? I argue, this kind of prioritisation of efficient business management principles in human service practice is a result of the marketisation of human services and becomes visible through the lens of neoliberal violence.

6.4 Cultural Violence and Marketised Social Services The young people in this research describe the principles of Fair Process as unjust, in terms of the separation of process and outcome, and undemocratic in terms of the lack of real control or participation in decision-making. Decision-making guided by the principles of Fair Process would, at best, describe a situation in which young people are ‘consulted and informed’ (Arnstein, 1969; Hart, 1992) and therefore are tokenistic. Assessed against White and Wyn’s six-stage youth participation model, Fair Process would likely score the second-lowest rating: ‘Structured Consultation’

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(White & Wyn, 2011, p. 112). This positions young people as subordinate to the (adult) decision-makers, and undeserving of a right to affect the final decision. The prioritisation of efficient decision-making processes over just outcomes can be further understood in the context of the hollowing out of the welfare state and the marketisation of human services. In Skelcher’s (2000) analysis of the hollowing out of the welfare state, he argues that the transition was an evolution to the ‘congested state’. This new method of governing contains ‘networked relationships between public, private, voluntary and community actors’ (p. 4). Through these partnership arrangements, government and nongovernment organisations (NGOs) collaborate in ‘pursuit of a public policy objective’ (Skelcher, 2000, p. 9). NGOs compete for government funds to deliver the services (Roberts & Devine, 2003, p. 313; Skelcher, 2000, p. 9) and are awarded the ‘freedom to manage’ (Skelcher, 2000, p. 8) the services in line with the terms of the tender agreement. Taylor (2000) argues that the result of this collaboration between government and non-government agencies is more than just an alliance in the pursuit of shared objectives. Instead, A. Taylor argues it results in the alignment of NGOs with the political values of the government of the day (p. 51). The ability to deliver or not deliver particular services becomes determined by the availability of government funds. Furthermore, Skelcher (2000, p. 9) argues that governments can influence and control NGOs through incentives and preferential treatment. The threat (real or perceived) of withdrawal of funds hampers the potential for advocacy. The unfunded activity required to apply for grants and tenders, as well as the labour required to record and report on mandated outcomes, significantly increases workloads and restructures the priorities of NGOs (Roberts & Devine, 2003, p. 313). The freedom and autonomy of NGOs to manage service delivery is cast into significant doubt, as is their capacity for critical activities, as governments retain legislative control and ultimately control of their financial resources (Taylor, 2000, p. 51). In this context, the ability for NGOs to sustain their values and objectives is, at best, questionable. As a result of the pressure of competitive tendering, increasing workloads and precarious funding, NGO’s are likely to adopt the values and practice frameworks that give them a competitive advantage. Taylor (2000) argues the marketisation and fragmentation of centralised government results in ‘methodological pragmatism (what works)’ (p. 48). This is not a values neutral appeal to outcomes, but rather a privileging of processes and the ‘importance of monitoring and evaluation’ (Taylor, 2000, p. 48). Taylor, Connaughton, de St Croix, Davies, and Grace (2018) argue in this context youth work becomes ‘any form of practice with young people for which funding can be found’ (p. 88). They go on to argue the ‘market is pushed into the very soul of youth work’ (Taylor et al., 2018, p. 88). Projects and services are designed, outcomes agreed to, methods of recording evidence and engagement are finalised before anyone speaks with a young person and all while closely monitoring competing organisations.

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6.4.1 Pragmatic and Prudent Governance The pervasiveness of this discourse is evident in Wachtel’s couching of his approach to restorative practices. He states that he too is interested in what works; he is a pragmatist, not a ‘bleeding heart liberal’ or a ‘hardnosed conservative’ (Wachtel, 2013, p. 26). The values neutral claims produced by the ‘quasi-market’ regulation of social services is antithetical to the traditional democratic values embedded in the public sector: i.e. participation, accountability and equity (Skelcher, 2000, p. 13; Taylor, 2000, p. 53) In addition, marketised funding arrangements place a deprofessionalisation pressure on human services that Healy (2009, p. 402), as well as Wallace and Pease (2011, p. 137), argue results in the suppression of social critique and the profession’s emancipatory goals. Social service professions and practice frameworks have traditionally held explicit social and justice values. These values are hollowed out through marketisation. In addition to being theoretically attractive, frameworks such as restorative practices are also considered ‘financially prudent’ (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 167). Restorative practices are not reliant on expensive experts or slow-moving bureaucracies. These practices are underpinned by an orientation towards community leadership, and facilitation of its processes by ordinary people without the requirement for formal qualifications. This creates the potential for diverse implementation practices and theoretical interpretations (Barton, 2003, p. 63). The emphasis on implementation by community members counters the need for professional workers who have developed critical thinking skills and emancipatory obligations. The marketisation of social services has other important effects. Hallet (2012) argues the outsourcing of formerly government services shifts the ‘regulation of marginal populations through markets rather than government programs’ (p. 220). Furthermore, McCulloch (2004) argues neoliberalism has constricted the state’s ‘willingness and capacity to protect vulnerable citizens—the poor, disabled, sick, young, and working classes’ (p. 315). Similarly, Giroux (2002) argues that community members who were once considered to be ‘at-risk’ are now understood to be ‘the risk’ (p. 144). The welfare state has been reconfigured to a ‘security state’ (Hallet, 2012, p. 215) or perhaps better described as a ‘warfare’ state (McCulloch, 2004, p. 315). Devoted to protecting the right to own and stockpile property and wealth, while at the same time legitimising organised violence, patriotism and militarism the state launches and perpetuates ‘wars’ on drugs, terror, poverty and so on (Giroux, 2014, p. 227). The hollowing out of the welfare state, appeals to the end of big government and the moral privileging of market-based solutions suggest a neutrality to markets and market solutions. The notion that social problems can be solved through marketisation is underpinned by the belief that society and markets are fundamentally peaceful. The logic suggests that if only governments would get out of the way the neutral market will find the best (perhaps, least violent) solution.

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6.4.2 The Violation of Marketised Social Services Berdayes and Murphy (2016b, p. 2) argue those who study violence ‘do not go far enough in their analyses’. The study of violence, they argue, often focusses on video games, film and gun laws while the ‘allegedly neutral and central institution’ of the economy that ‘creates the context for violence’ goes unchallenged (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016b, p. 2). Welfare services are redesigned to ‘stop unemployed young people eating Cheezels whilst playing video games’ (Woodley & Henderson, 2014), while the underpinning cultural logic of ‘unfettered competitive individualism’ (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 16) goes unquestioned. The marketisation of social services ‘creates the context for violence’ in the form of non-participatory and dehumanising practices. Central to a capitalist economy is a violent rationality that pursues profits at the expense of individuals, communities and families (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016b, p. 3). When this rationality is extended beyond economic systems it creates cultures of cruelty that justifies violence against the vulnerable and marginalised. As such neoliberal rationales can be understood as a form of ‘cultural violence’ (Galtung, 1990), as they represent pervasive discourses that justify and incentivise violating and process focussed non-participatory community service practices. The hollowing out of the welfare state and the rise of the warfare state promotes the monitoring and regulation of risky and undeserving population through marketised systems. The neoliberal rationale invades social and political life creating the ‘total market’ (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016b, p. 4) providing justification for neoliberal solutions to complex social issues. Restorative practices represent an attractive alternative to punitive justice for both governments and non-government organisations. Their foundational principles are attractive for NGOs in their emphasis on relationships and healing, and for governments in the shift of responsibility for justice from the state to the community (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 168). The principles of Fair Process add value to restorative practice for NGOs competing for government funding through prioritising measurable processes and offering the veneer of values neutrality. However, the young people in this research highlight the undemocratic and non-participatory nature of the principles. The veil of neutrality of the principles points to a larger issue of market incentives for NGOs to compromise on traditional public service values.

6.5 The Neoliberal Violence of Fair Process Berdayes and Murphy’s (2016b) collected edition offers a detailed exploration of the effects and dynamics of neoliberal violence. Unifying the discussion is the aforementioned understanding of ‘neoliberal economics as a form of violent radicalism’ and ‘a discourse whose assumptions and influence on contemporary institutions normalize violence’ (p. 1).

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In their everyday lives, people are subjected to routine, widespread, and equally radical violence associated with the economic theses of neoliberalism. Understood as the complete reorganization of social existence in pursuit of narrow economic interests, neoliberalism normalizes ideas and behaviour that would appear obscene outside of an economistic frame of reference. The antisocial imagery propagated by this market-based extremism, for example, vindicates the existence of profound social inequalities that consign billions of people to supposedly deserved squalor. (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016a, p. 1)

Neoliberal violence, according to Berdayes and Murphy, encapsulates layers of structural, cultural (Galtung, 1969, 1990) and symbolic violence (Bourdieu, 2001). The ‘theses of neoliberalism’ is a justifying logic (cultural violence) that ‘vindicates the existence of profound social inequalities’ (structural violence) (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016a, p. 1). These logics normalise behaviours that ‘would appear obscene’ if not for the symbolic misrecognition (symbolic violence) that promotes the ‘supposedly deserved squalor’ of billions of people resulting from the ‘economistic frame of reference’ (Berdayes & Murphy, 2016a, p. 1). However, there is a significant omission from Berdayes and Murphy’s collected edition, at least, from a youth studies perspective. This is the omission of the unique impact of neoliberal violence on young people. Young people are unevenly affected by the changing nature of work, such as increased part-time and casual employment, reduced opportunities for ‘non-skilled’ labour and extended transition from education to employment (White & Wyn, 2011, pp. 173–180). Liberal- paternalist governance and the resulting marketisation and competitive individualism, positions the individual (i.e. young people) primarily in economic terms (Brennan, 2009, p. 341). People are viewed as a resource, much like capital and property (Brennan, 2009, p. 341). This fosters an ‘unfettered competitive individualism’ (White & Wyn, 2011, p. 17) that provides an advantage to those who have access to social, economic, and political capital. As such, young people who fail to compete in the total market are regulated and controlled in new and violating ways. However, the labour market and employment opportunities are only one component of young people’s lives that are being dominated by the totalising market rationale. Esposito (2016), argues competitive individualism refutes the notion that collective governance can address ‘public issues’ and instead suggest they are merely ‘personal troubles’; an inverse of the sociological imagination (Mills, 1970). As a result, those individuals unable to manage their personal troubles across the spectrum of social issues (including employment but also housing, relationships and wellbeing) are deemed ‘inept, lazy, irresponsible, and deserving of their unfavourable positions (i.e., deserving of the violence inflicted upon them)’ (p. 95). Hence, within this logic young people who access social services do so because of personal failings rather than collective social issues. These personal failings disqualify them from the rights afforded to others such as meaningful participation and control in decision-making processes. Pilotta (2016) argues that within neoliberalism there is a cultural logic that elevates the ‘entrepreneur as a cultural hero’ and that ‘[n] eoliberalism promotes entrepreneurial values as the moral choice for each sector of society’ (p. 37). The business manager, and other authority figures, are morally superior as evidenced by their position of power. They are therefore justified in their right to make decisions

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on behalf of others and distribute welfare to those deemed deserving. The cultural violence of the colonising neoliberal rationale produces a hollowed out choice for young people between the performativities of hyper-competitive heroes or highly regulated subordinates. The narrative of competitive individualism pervades everyday life dehumanising and degrading critical thought to a narrow economic rationale. The domination of social and political life by the total market, Berdayes and Murphy (2016a) argue, renders moral arguments against violence utopian (p. 2). The compromises on professional values made by NGOs to secure competitive and lucrative funding are justified as simply part of doing business. Excluding young people from participation in decision-making processes is the reality of survival for marketised social services. Violence is an essential part of the hyper-competitive free-market rationale, as such the suggestion of counteracting or eradicating objective systems of violence challenges the foundational logic underpinning neoliberalism. Within the total market, the process is separated from outcomes and business management ‘bullshit’ is prioritised over justice to provide a veneer of political neutrality. Young people predictably object to their disenfranchisement through deceptively tokenistic principles of participatory decision making. The principles of participation have no currency. They are unattainably utopian in the total market. Young people’s rights are violated, and they are disqualified from participation based on their subordinate status. They have not demonstrated the entrepreneurship required to hold a position of power, and as such must not be worthy of wielding it. Their domination and violation are not simply justified, it is deemed logical and normal.

6.6 Conclusion This chapter examined Giroux’s claim that the combining forces of personal, structural and systemic violence young people encounter from governing authorities represents neoliberal violence. To investigate this idea, I began by focussing on one example of economic rationale invading the social services sector. This approach facilitated the contextualisation of the neoliberal violence within young people’s stories and the opportunity for young people to contribute to the analysis. In affirming the predictable incompatibility between simplistic business management principles for efficient decision-making and the wicked problems in young people’s lives, this approach raises the question of how these seemingly incompatible principles have infiltrated community service practice. Further, the foreseeable objection by participants also serves to highlight the extent of the normalisation of violence under neoliberal marketisation of community services. Presenting the principles of Fair Process to young people evoked consistent criticism regarding their abstract and de-contextual formulation, their disconnection of the process from the outcome and the lack of genuine control over the decisionmaking process. Participants contribution to this enquiry emphasises the necessity of context and stories to reinforce the rich complexity of social life and the wicked

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nature of social problems. These stories counter the movement towards efficiency and the monitoring of process emphasised by neoliberal methods of governing and service delivery. Their objections reveal that the stories and lives of young people are overlooked, hollowed out and violated by depersonalised bureaucratic systems or abstract theoretical analysis. Fair Process is an example of the invasion of market rationale into social services provision as a result of the marketisation of social services. The entrepreneurial and business values of markets and undemocratic decision-making processes dominate popular discourses making traditional public sector values like justice and participation seem utopian. The foundational values of human service professionals are unrealistic in the context of competitive tendering and competitive individualism. The formerly public issues of housing, education and justice are instead constructed as personal troubles that are managed by disseminated community-based facilitators who deliver measurable processes disconnected from just outcomes. Young people are encouraged to engage with a process that explains the reason for the newly imposed expectation, but are not involved in the process of decision-making as equals. Fair Process violates the foundational justice and participatory foundations of restorative practices and it dehumanises young people by denying their right to participate in decisions that affect their lives. Hollowed out governments promote hollowed out values in community services that in turn hollow out young people’s lives.

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Chapter 7

Political Fractionality and Epistemological Violence

The study of youth violence in the terms that I have approached it in this book raises reflexive questions for youth and violence researchers. Some of these are already under consideration by scholars in these respective fields. For example, Wieviorka (2005) briefly discusses the problems of universalist and relativist approaches to violence (pp. 73–75). Farrugia (2013) offers a more in-depth consideration of the ‘symbolic violence in interviews with young people experiencing homelessness’ (p. 111). However, as per the central concern of this book, at the intersection of these two field new questions and concerns emerge. The challenges of studying a phenomenon with inescapably normative connotations, such as violence, include difficult questions for youth studies scholars about the normative assumptions within youth studies and the ethical problems of relativistic epistemologies. Furthermore, the study of youth as not simply an abstract concept, but as an idea that concerns real, feeling and conscious subjects, raises questions for violence studies about the focus of the research and its participatory nature. In this chapter, I examine some of these issues and propose possibilities for a way forward. I argue that these questions raise the possibility of ‘epistemological violence’ (Teo, 2010) when studying youth violence. Furthermore, I argue that the issues that are raised at the intersection of youth and violence require researchers to have explicit ethics, as well as epistemological and methodological orientations. I begin the chapter with a point of clarification about the use of the terms ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ in relation to violence and epistemologies. Up until this point in the book, I have borrowed the terms ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ from Zizek (2008) to describe two interconnected categories of violence. This presents an issue for a chapter about epistemology as the way Zizek has employs them contrast the meaning typically associated with ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’ epistemologies. Having clarified these terms, I turn to examine the strengths and weaknesses of universalising epistemologies to study youth violence. Central to the problems of this approach is the concern raised by Farrugia regarding the symbolic violence of imposing definitions and categories on young people in research. Subsequently, I apply the same critical analysis to relativising epistemologies. In this case, I argue it © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 B. A. Lohmeyer, Youth and Violent Performativities, Perspectives on Children and Young People 11, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-5542-8_7

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is necessary to examine the potential of the inverse of Farrugia’s concern. There is a risk in relativising epistemologies of cultural violence through failing to challenge the dominant oppressive power relations. In light of these issues, I test the potential to avoid synergistic solutions or a dissatisfying grab-bag approach by adopting Political Fractionality for researching youth violence. Finally, I argue that research with young people about a normative subject such as violence necessitates that social scientist state their political and ethical orientations and critically examine the implications or outcomes of their orientations.

7.1 Subjective and Objective: Violence and Epistemologies In Chap. 2, I argued there were two main streams of thought regarding the definition and scope of violence. These are the narrow and the broad definitions Bufacchi (2005) describes. I argued the narrow definition emphasised a more tangible and physical understanding of violence in which it is primarily a passionate physical force. It can be argued that this approach emphasises the action of the perpetrator of violence. The alternative approach, utilising a broader definition of violence as an experience of violation, enables an analysis of nonphysical forces such as social structures that can inflict violating effects and legitimise physical violation. Arguably this approach prioritises the experiences of the victim. In Chap. 2, I followed Wieviorka’s (2014) argument that the answer to reconciling these contradictory approaches might simply be to acknowledge their strengths and weaknesses, and agree that if an approach helps us to better understand and counteract the problems of violence then it is acceptable. However, it could be argued that this is a methodological and philosophical evasion. Furthermore, it leaves many potential pitfalls and, as with Galtung’s (1969) admission of the limits of his approach, potentially raises more questions than it solves. In adopting this approach, I also opted for using Zizek’s (2008) broad categories subjective and objective violence as a shorthand for the diverse language and concepts that fall into each of these categories. Subjective violence refers to the kinds of visible and apparent forms of violence that includes physical force, but also verbal abuse and neglect enacted by a subject. Objective violence covers concepts such as structural, cultural, systemic and symbolic violence beyond the direct action of a subject. In Wieviorka’s (2005) engagement with the problems of defining violence he approaches the issue by drawing on similar terms to Zizek regarding the ‘objectivity and subjectivity of violence’ (Wieviorka, 2005, p. 72). However, when using the term objectivity Wieviorka is describing universalising epistemologies that underpin a narrow and tangible definition of violence. Similarly, when using the term subjectivity, he means relativising epistemologies that underpin broad and fluid definition of violence. As such, Zizek subjective violence refers to a narrow definition of violence underpinned by what Wieviorka describes of objective epistemologies. In turn, Zizek’s objective violence refers to a broad definition of violence underpinned by what by Wieviorka describes as subjective epistemologies.

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This contrasting language is in part a result of the problems of developing the orthodoxy of terms in an emerging field. However, it also highlights a problem within Wieviorka’s solution to the diverse and competing approaches to violence. Diverse definitions of violence are acceptable, according to Wieviorka, by the measure of their usefulness to understand and prevent violence. However, the language utilised by researchers is not neutral (Strega, 2005; Teo, 2010). Law (2004) argues the political nature of language reveals certain phenomena and obscures others, it makes some things more real (or present) and others less. Inconsistent or contrasting approaches to violence result in some forms of violence being made more present or absent by particular approaches. As such, not all approaches are equal as they have different effects on the enactment of reality. Moreover, developing an orthodoxy of terms in the field can obscure this effect, as the accepted norms provide a dominant logic. The effects of presence and absence in research is a central concern of this chapter. However, to avoid confusion I will continue using the terms subjective and objective violence in the ways I outlined in Chap. 2. In addition, I will refer to the epistemological assumptions that underpin a narrow definition of violence as the movement toward universalising epistemologies rather than objectivism. These are epistemological assumptions that attempt to establish one clearly defined universal understanding of violence. Likewise, I will employ the term relativising epistemologies to refer to epistemological assumptions that underpin broad definitions of violence, rather than subjectivism. These epistemological approaches emphasise the experience of the subject and multiple definitions that include non-physical forms of violence.

7.2 Universalising Approaches A universalising approach to violence attempts to define a concrete focus for analysis that captures the uniquely destructive and negative connotations of violence. These approaches draw on positivistic notions of neutrality and objectivity that construct hierarchies between whose knowledge is valid or invalid and who is qualified to gather this knowledge. Objectivity on the part of the researcher is achieved through the construction of a division between the knowing subject (i.e. researcher) and the object of knowledge (i.e. young people). This is realised through the application of reason by the rational actor (i.e. researcher) (Strega, 2005, p. 202). Only knowledge gathered by qualified ‘scientists’ can be awarded the gold standard of legitimate ‘objective’ and ‘neutral’ knowledge. The pursuit of a singular objective truth creates a false dichotomy between the researcher and the actor. In 1979 Giddens described a tendency within sociological thought of the day to begin the pursuit of the ‘“real” stimuli’, by ‘discounting agent’s reasons for their action’ (Giddens, 1979, p. 71). Latour notes that within this ontology, subjects of research are not equipped to identify objective truth. As a result of their location within the social world of study, they are ‘at best … “informants” about this world and, at worst … blinded to its existence’ (Latour, 2005, p. 4). It is only through

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the specialised training of the social scientist that this world can be unpacked and the singular truth beneath it revealed (Latour, 2005, p. 4). Wieviorka (2005) points out that this raises problems for the researcher who might discover that their universalising definition of violence has been adopted or tested in popular media and that ‘opinion polls showing that the general public does not take the same view’ (p. 73). For youth researchers, this problem becomes more immediate if their research contains a participatory orientation. It is conceivable, likely even, that young people using violence might report to a researcher that they have no ethical issue with violence or would do not identify their (or others) actions as violence in the terms the research understands it. Lucas: I don’t like violence … If someone was to say insult my family, hurt my family, threaten them well then I would arch and it would not be pretty … But that, (knocking sound) touch wood, has not happened and will not happen. And if it does, so help me god I am going on a murdering spree. (laughs) … I don’t like violence but that’s a, that’s the worst-case possible scenario ‘cos… we stand for things we love. We fight for things that we desire. Or, in this fact desire the right to protect. Family, friends. Dude people can walk and punch me clean in the face and I’ll be like (deep breath) (laughs). But touch my brother, my sister or my mother, however, I’ll kill you. (laughs)

In this excerpt, Lucas offers a complex and perhaps muddled account of his attitude towards violence. His statements of dislike for violence, and the pursuit of alternatives, in his interview were mixed in with stories of bloody physical assaults in which he appeared to find enjoyment. The association of pleasure with violence is also present in other participants’ stories. Owen: Oh yeah, the adrenaline rush, the adrenaline rush is fucken amazing … I still have it now and it still sort of gets me jumping. Cos it’s like ‘Fuck you!’ But it’s like a before and after picture. One minute he is standin there all angry and trying to act all staunch and shit. And then it’s just, you don’t even really remember, like the visualisation of smacking him.

The jumbled attitude towards violence in Lucas’ story, and the apparent enjoyment Owen experiences from physically fighting, do not fit easily with the stated definition in this book of violence as a negative phenomenon and the approach to young people in optimistic and hopeful terms. These seeming contradictions could be analysed through a range of theories employed in this book to explain the social structures of class and gender that justify and legitimise the violent physical assault of others to protect self or family. However, seeking clarity in their messy stories in this way requires interpretation of the data by a social scientist. This clarity is not manifest in the story or provided by the participant. Teo (2010) argues that the expectation that scientific knowledge requires interpretation is connected to the idea of ‘values-neutrality’ (p. 302). As a result, the pursuit of universalising social facts creates and reinforces a hierarchy between researcher and participant. Giddens argues that when Durkheim worked to establish sociology as a distinct discipline, he declared that it should be concerned with universal ‘social facts’ (Giddens, 1982, p. 13). Scott argues that Durkheim’s foundations for this structuralfunctionalist assertion drew from the natural sciences, and as a result formed a theory in which ‘individual behaviour was governed by law-like social forces, emanating

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from society as an external entity’ (Scott, 2014, p. 14). Since Durkheim, scholars like Strega (2005, p. 207) point out that epistemologies and ontologies that emphasise universalisation exclude and devalue important (usually marginalised) perspectives and people or groups from participation in knowledge creation. Thus, the dominant pattern in Enlightenment epistemology is a hierarchical, gendered, raced, and classed dualism, an asymmetrical division in which the White and male side is valued over the dark and Female side. (Strega, 2005, p. 205)

Ironically, despite the care with which Strega is criticising oppressive hierarchical epistemologies, she too has fallen into practices of exclusion that is particularly important for youth scholars. It is not simply white men, but white old men who sit atop the universalising enlightenment epistemological hierarchy. Furthermore, my qualification of Strega’s claims overlooks still other exclusionary categories: eurocentric, able-bodied, middle class, species and more. Strega is aware of this issue, and the interconnection of oppression. She argues that the dominance of dualistic logics ‘inevitably pit those on the margins against one another’ (Strega, 2005, p. 226). Universalising definitions of violence fall into this epistemological trap as, by their nature, they exclude various perspectives and experiences of violence. Not least among these exclusions is the experience of the victim, as narrow definitions of violence emphasise the action (and actor) as the focus of study. In his work After Method, Law stresses that this understanding of the social world has ‘many strengths, but [is] also blinkered’ (Law, 2004, p. 151). Law is convinced that the social cannot be so easily determined and predicted (Law, 2008, p. 641). He is concerned that when social sciences attempt to utilise universalising epistemologies, they are in danger of ‘wrongly collude[ing] in the enactment of dominant realities’ (Law & Urry, 2004, p. 399). Furthermore, objective universal representation of facts excludes some groups from the process of knowledge creation. To argue that some voices are excluded in universalising epistemologies is to argue ‘against the metaphysics of presence’, or the idea that everything can be understood and collected in one place under one discourse (Law, 2004, p. 83). Instead, Law stresses that when something is examined or made ‘present’, something else has to be overlooked or made ‘absent’ (Law, 2004, p. 83). This is the process of research and knowledge creation, as it is simply not possible to focus on all perspectives at the same time. Hence as these different discourses and methodologies emphasise and focus on certain areas of knowledge, they exclude and de-emphasise others. In Strega’s case, she is emphasising the voices of excluded genders, races, and classes. In the examples from Lucas and Owen, it is young people’s voices who might be excluded from the analysis.

7.2.1 Emancipatory Youth Studies Adopting universalising approaches to violence creates issues about what or who is the central focus of study. It creates and reinforcers hierarchies between participants

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and social scientists, and dictates the inclusion or exclusion of particular voices. Youth studies’ inclination towards promoting young people’s perspectives and including young people in the processes of research further highlights the issues of participation and exclusion. Kelly and Kamp (2014) argue that critical youth sociology has an obligation to young people in ‘making it different’ (p. 4) or making a difference to improve their lives. Woodman and Threadgold (2011) argue for the reimagining of what counts as knowledge in youth studies and challenge researchers to consider ‘… who (or what) youth research serves’ (p. 9). These provocations provide a unique orientation for critical youth sociology. The emancipatory orientation of critical youth sociology is outworked in varying forms by different scholars. Woodman and Threadgold (2011), and others like Powell and Edwards (2003), have an interest in the work of Beck and Bourdieu to achieve these emancipatory goals. Some, like Nico (2014, p. 59), raise the need to scrutinise the destandardisation of the life course model adopted by youth sociology. While others, such as Walsh and Black (2014), MacDonald (2006, 2009, 2016) as well as Shildrick, MacDonald, and Furlong (2016), are concerned with the impacts on young people of the ‘precarity that permeates economic, social and civic lives’ (Walsh & Black, 2014, p. 77). Across these diverse manifestations, the guiding principle of emancipation is a consistent theme in critical youth sociology. The concept of youth itself can be employed in universalising terms that can have unintended effects. One participant in this research project (22 years of age) directly questioned her inclusion in the study, as she considered herself an adult and no longer part of the category youth. It is not unreasonable to assume other participants had similar concerns that were not given voice. Ironically the attempt elevate young people’s voices in this project resulted in the application of a label to at least one participant that identified her as a member of an excluded group she didn’t identify with. The intent to challenge the exclusionary category youth (Sercombe, 2010, p. 19; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 22; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 8) ironically reinforced it in a very conspicuous way for this young person. The application of the exclusionary category to her in this way could be regarded as violence.

7.2.2 Epistemological and Symbolic Violence Explicitly borrowing from Galtung’s (1969) conceptualisation of structural violence, Teo (2010) argues that the interpretation of data that ‘construct[s] the Other as inferior or problematic, despite the fact that alternative interpretations, equally viable based on the data, are available’ should be considered ‘epistemological violence’ (p. 298). Teo argues that the violence lies in the act of interpretation the data in a way the produces negative outcomes for the subject. He argues the action of the researcher (interpretation) against the subject of the research (young person) results in a form of violence that is ‘closer to personal violence’(p. 295). However, he also acknowledges that it is possible to trace the violence back to the data collection and the original hypothesis (p. 297). Teo argues against tracing violence back this far for pragmatic

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reasons regarding the issues of policing and prevention of violence in empirical research. However, the above young person’s rejection of her membership in the category of youth suggests that the possibility of epistemological violence in the hypothesis is an important consideration for youth studies. Farrugia (2013) reflects on the possibility he might be complicit in symbolic violence in his research on homeless young people. He argues that his research might be reproducing ‘suffering and stigmatisation due to the dominant discourses that give meaning to the experience of homelessness’ (Farrugia, 2013, p. 113). In speaking to young people who are identified as being homeless he may collude in the enactment the dominant realities of youth homelessness (Law & Urry, 2004, p. 399). In the same way, doing research with young people on violence not only risks reinforcing the dominant idea that young people are violent, but also dominant assumptions and discourses about youth and violence. It is likely that to a certain degree these issues cannot be entirely avoided or resolved. Policing research raises issues regarding freedom of inquiry. Furthermore, while the language researchers choose to employ can be improved, it is also fundamentally a flawed means of communication. There is a need for further attention, continued research and a sustained pursuit of avenues to minimise the potential for symbolic and epistemological violence in youth research. In this section, these issues serve to highlight some of the problems of universalising epistemologies. Nevertheless, relativising epistemologies also contain their own issues.

7.3 Relativising Approaches Relativising approaches to understanding violence creates the space for a broader definition of violence in terms of a subjective experience of violation. Relativising approaches facilitate the conceptualisation of nonphysical forces and inequalities created or perpetuated by social structures as a type of violence. Utilising relativising epistemologies to conceptualise youth emphasises its politically, culturally and socially dependent nature (Sercombe, 2010, p. 20; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). These perspectives counter an enlightenment ontology that ignores the interdependent nature of the human experience, which is most obvious during the first and last years of life (Bacchi, 2009, p. 69). The dependence of children, and the elderly, is acutely perceptible. However, all people are caught up in varying levels of interdependence. Youth, therefore, is not a singular and universal experience or phenomenon, but rather is a complex phenomenon mediated through multiple structures, institutions as well as interconnected perspectives and experiences. Butler demonstrates a similar point in reference to gender. If, as per universalising epistemologies, gender is an idea that accurately represents a singular reality, then this means: (A) there is one single physical manifestation of gender and that this is understood singularly; and (B) it is not in part a product of thoughts, expressions or activities (Butler, 2010, p. 147). Gender challenges researchers’ assumptions of

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objectivity and neutrality in that it is layered with multiplicity, and defies the dualistic detachment and arrangement of physical things. Gender is experienced and expressed in a multitude of forms and is highly influenced by popular culture and public discourse. Youth and violence are similarly socially, politically and culturally constructed. There is no single manifestation of youth or violence; rather it is a product of many and varied assumptions and social forces. Relativistic approaches often emphasise the individual’s expertise and attempt to counter the hierarchy between researcher and subject. Actor Network Theory (ANT) is an exemplar of prioritising the actors’ perspectives and considers them as experts in their own contexts. Latour argues ANT attempts ‘to follow the actors themselves’ (Latour, 2005, p. 12). ANT promotes the idea that people and the societies that sociologists study ‘do not exist in and of themselves’ (Law, 2004, p. 83). Instead, they are connected through complex social networks. According to Latour, in order to overcome the assertion of singular truth, social scientists will need to do the work of ‘learn[ing] how to become good relativists’ (Latour, 2005, p. 16). Furthermore, Latour (1999, p. 19) argues that, in the attempt to separate ANT from the politics of knowledge, the ‘theory’ part of ANT becomes inaccurate. He believes ANT is not an attempt to theorise the world, but rather just to observe it. The relativism of this methodology positions the research apolitically. To simply observe the world and its oppressive dimensions is insufficient for the emancipatory goals of critical youth sociology. Relativism tends to overlook structures of oppression and reduce issues to an individual’s actions and unique interactions (Strega, 2005, p. 207). The strength of universalising assertions is their capacity to inspire concrete action in the service of, or in opposition to, existing structures of oppression. For example, Woodman and Threadgold (2014, p. 552) make the argument for class as the foundation of critical and emancipatory sociology. An advantage of Marxist theory, as compared to the more universalising power dynamics of Foucault’s version of post-structuralism, is it provides a clear ‘target for action’ (Sercombe, 1992, p. 52). In the same way, defining violence in narrow terms enables a clearer target for action. In contrast, broad definitions of violence create potentially an innumerable and paralysing number of issues to take action against. Scholars such as Mol push back against the assertion that ANT is apolitical. Mol (1999) argues ANT has an ‘ontological politics’, which ‘suggests a link between the real … and the political’ (p. 86). ANT, she says, suggests it is possible to enact different realities (p. 77). As such, she poses questions about: ‘When can these be enacted?’; ‘What is at stake?’; and ‘How should we choose?’ (p. 79). Mol does not profess to offer answers to these questions. However, conspicuously absent from her analysis is at least one other question: the normative question ‘why?’ In her discussion of the ‘how’ of choosing, this question is implied: ‘For another question must come first: what are the effects that we should be seeking?’ (Mol, 1999, p. 86). It is the ‘should’ that implies the normative question ‘why’. This question underpins the emancipatory goals and political concerns. It is the ‘what should we do?’ and ‘why?’ that are absent in relativising epistemologies.

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7.3.1 Justice Versus Power This tension between universalising and relativising epistemologies is also exemplified in the 1971 debate between Foucault and Chomsky about human nature: Justice versus Power. An important difference is highlighted between the two thinkers regarding politics. Chomsky contends that he is interested in politics because the universal truths of reason and justice compel him to act to create a better society (Foucault, 1986, p. 6). In contrast, Foucault states he is less interested in the Western obsession with searching for abstract utopias and general principles. Instead, he claims his purpose is to ‘criticise the working of institutions which appear to be both neutral and independent; to criticise them in such a manner that the political violence which has always exercised itself obscurely through them will be unmasked, so that one can fight them’ (Foucault, 1986, p. 6). Foucault is drawing the attention away from ‘general principles’ and towards a critical awareness of the power structures underpinning society. Foucault contends that knowledge and power are so deeply intertwined that knowledge presupposes a power relation (Foucault, 1979, p. 27). Drawing on Foucault, Strega argues new knowledge is not discovered but rather it is generated within the confines of the existing sanctioned power-knowledge discourses (Strega, 2005, p. 218). Strega quotes Davies (1991) to emphasise the ramifications of this discursive regulation: …our existence as persons has no fundamental essence, we can only ever speak ourselves or be spoken into existence within the terms of available discourses. (Strega, 2005, p. 219)

The critique often levelled at post-structural approaches is often attached to the following quote from Foucault: My position is that it is not up to us to propose. As soon as one ‘proposes’—one proposes a vocabulary, an ideology, which can only have effects of domination. What we have to present are instruments or tools that people might find useful. (Foucault, 1988, p. 197)

The common criticism of Foucault’s approach is that ultimately post-structuralism is nihilistic (‘it is not up to us to propose’) and that it leaves little with which to challenge power asymmetries, and is therefore ‘politically useless’ (Bacchi, 2009, p. 237). However, Bacchi suggests that perhaps this is a misrepresentation of Foucault’s position. Instead, she argues that the way forward with Foucault’s work is to focus on the effects of the knowledge. These include the discursive effects, subjectification effects and lived effects (p. 238). Hence, Bacchi’s (2009) approach contains ‘an explicitly normative agenda’ (p. 44). The task becomes to identify the effects of a discourse and intervene on the side of ‘those who are harmed’ by the problematisation; and also, to suggest alternative knowledges, or an alternative problematisation, that might overcome some of these effects. To demonstrate the point here, I turn, again, to Becker’s description of how early research on young people was designed. Often the approach was, and perhaps still is, to discover why ‘youth are so troublesome for adults’ (Becker, 1967, p. 242). Becker suggests a repositioning of this inquiry to a sociological perspective, putting forth the

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more interesting question: ‘Why do adults make so much trouble for youth?’ (Becker, 1967, p. 242). Becker’s reconfiguration could be described as an attempt to enact a different reality. It performs the reality in which young people are not inherently troublesome. This is a positive development for the emancipatory goals of youth sociology and the acknowledgement of the political nature of knowledge. However, even Becker’s reconfiguration contributes to a particular knowledge of young people, and hence constructs an approach to the governing of youth. His reconfiguration still draws on an exclusionary discourse of youth, as separate to adults, to identify a specific group of interest to researchers. This creates a false dichotomy between adults and young people. Gillies and Robinson’s (2012) research that engages ‘challenging pupils’ is an example of the implications of the problems of relativising epistemologies without a clear political orientation. Gillies and Robinson (2012) select a cohort and location that ‘currently provokes [the] most public concern’ (p. 163); i.e. is associated with a certain group of people of lesser status at that point in time as a result of their deviance from behavioural norms. Their study took place exclusively within ‘Behavioural Support Units’ located onsite but separate from the rest of a ‘mainstream’ school. This location is associated with the problematic behaviour of a group of young people. Here is an example of epistemological violence resulting from poorly defined epistemological frameworks and how it can contribute to exclusionary discourses. Despite good intentions, neglecting to challenge this problematisation of these young people’s behaviour and the space renders the knowledge created at best complicit, and at worst supportive, of ontological assumptions that categorise the behaviour of these young people as deviant (Bacchi, 2009, pp. 267–268). The selection of the location for Gillies and Robinson’s study demonstrates, despite their intensive participantdriven methodology, the nature of research as an adult agenda (Lomax, 2005). The knowledge production methods and pre-existing assumptions about their target group reinforces an understanding of young people as problematic and disengaged from education. Relativistic approaches run the risk of research claiming to be apolitical. It is insufficient for the emancipatory goals of critical youth sociology and the fundamentally normative character of violence to simply observe a world and its oppressive dimensions. Relativism tends to overlook structures of oppression and diminish problems to the result of individual agency (Strega, 2005, p. 207). The strength of positivist assertions is their capacity to inspire concrete action in the service of, or in opposition to, existing structures of oppression. Becker also poses the question to scholars in the sociology of deviance: ‘whose side are we on?’ In doing this he is staking a claim that his research, and by extension all research, is not politically neutral. Rather, as Strega (2005, p. 207) argues, all research is political. Relativistic and universalising approaches can be conceived as binary opposites. However, they do not necessarily have to be thought about in this way.

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7.3.2 Whose Side Are We On? I argue the failure to critique the hierarchy between researcher and researched in universalising epistemologies is epistemological and symbolic violence. Likewise, the failure to question and acknowledge whose side we are on might also be usefully conceived in terms of violence. Farrugia’s reflection on the potential for symbolic violence in imposing a definition of youth homelessness on young people provides the impetus to consider the inverse. There is a potential for violence in not imposing or acknowledging power imbalances or failing to articulate definitions of youth, homelessness or violence. These topics are political and carry normative assumptions. As such a relativist position that fails to identify the distinctions between definitions fails to challenge the harms produced by the dominant discourse. This is evident in the above research by Gillies and Robinson’s (2012). Galtung (1990) describes the way in which ‘culture preaches, teaches, admonishes, eggs on, and dulls us into seeing exploitation and/or repression as normal and natural, or into not seeing them (particularly not exploitation) at all’ (p. 295). Cultural violence represents the invisibilisation of violence. It shapes the assumptions and hypotheses underpinning research. Cultural violence is a mechanism that results in the failure to acknowledge harm. Relativising epistemologies that overlook structures of oppression combined with the obscuring effect of cultural violence produces epistemological violence. There is a temptation to look for a synergistic solution to the problems of universalising and relativising epistemologies. However, attempting to hold together, or find a connection between these diverse ideas, in a pluralistic way, can construct a reality full of unequal and competing ideas. Furthermore, drawing on a range of approaches inconsistently is a dissatisfying method of investigation. Law (2004) argues that research contributes to the creation of reality. Reality is created, performed or acted out. This is to say that knowledge is political and can be used to enact multiple ‘goods’: ‘truth; politics; justice; aesthetics; inspiration and the spiritual’ (Law, 2004, p. 153). Knowledge can contribute to the making of a singular dominant reality, or it can be used to construct a reality in which alternative voices are valued. Law claims this is not pluralism, but rather ‘fractionality’ (Law, 2004, p. 62). Fractionality is more complex (if that is possible).

7.4 Political Fractionality Fractionality is borrowed from fractional mathematics, in which there is a need to maintain the idea that a line can occupy ‘more than one dimension but less than two’ (Law, 2004, p. 62). The implication of this idea for my social research is that fractionality entails that there is more than one social world, but less than many. That is to say, there is more than the singular reality advocated for by objective epistemologies. However, neither is there in existence an endless number of realities as advocated for

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by relativising epistemologies. The other way Law explains this approach is to ask the question, ‘how far do arguments carry in practice?’ (2004, p. 63). The universalising claims of singular realities carry their argument and conclusions universally. In contrast, relativising realities only carry their conclusions locally. Rather than being forced into choosing a side of this epistemological dualism, fractionality allows claims that conclusions carry ‘so far, but only so far’ (Law, 2004, p. 63). The conclusions can transfer outside of the locality of relativism but are not unquestionably applicable at a great distance. In a fractional view of the world, divergent realities overlap and interfere. They are fluid, moving in and out of presence and absence. This overlap and interference allow the conclusions to transfer across the overlapping realities. Law (2004) also utilises the term ‘allegory’ to emphasise the ‘presence’ and ‘absence’ in knowledge production. He chooses allegory because it is ‘the art of meaning something other and more than what is being said’ (Law, 2004, p. 88). Law makes the argument that the process of undertaking detailed analysis and research results in the inevitable exclusion of a range of other contextual factors. He suggests that perhaps this is a requirement of making things ‘present’: i.e. detailed observation and analysis (p. 85). As described above, in detailed observation of one thing, other things are made ‘absent’ (p. 85). Law suggests that it is only through absence that something can be made present, and it remains sustainably present only if that which is made absent is ‘Othered’ (p. 85). Applying this to the topic of this book, this means that if I focus solely on youth violence, other intersectional dimensions of oppression and experiences of violence are made absent. According to Law, the fact that knowledge is representational and allegorical is for the most part scientifically acceptable. A problem arises with ‘allegory that denies its character as allegory’ (Law, 2004, p. 89). That is, when researchers fail to acknowledge that their work is a limited representation of a greater whole; when they overstep the boundary of humility and begin to claim ultimate truth. Framing knowledge creation as the art of allegory acts as a constant reminder that what is generated ‘in here’ is only a partial representation of the complex reality ‘out there’ (Law, 2004, p. 132). Some of the absent contextual factors to any research are buried in the knowledge practices of the discipline. Law calls these historical logics that define a discipline’s way of knowing their ‘hinterlands’ (Law, 2004, p. 27). Law (2004) notes that the singular focus required for research is sustained through the allusion to the othered and absent contextual factors of the research. Sustaining my focus on youth violence means that intersectional dimensions of oppression and experiences of violence are othered, however, the experiences that are unique to young people are made visible. Furthermore, the focus on these young people and their knowledge about violence in this research makes their experiences present and other young people’s absent. Law describes this allusion as allegorical. As such, the close examination of youth violence does have implications for these other dimensions of oppression. It is important to acknowledge that there are other dimensions and that there will be (allegorical) implications for them from the focused study on this single dimension.

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The findings in this book are allegorical, as they imply more than what is being said. The stories of these young people have greater meanings than the personal stories of individual young people. They also connect with the stories of other young people. This is not a claim for ultimate truth and universal generalisability. Rather, this is saying that making their stories present begins to make visible a vast array of interconnected systems of oppression. This research tells part of the story but has implications beyond just what is in focus or is being explicitly said. Another major advantage for the social sciences in conceptualising research as allegory is that, at times, allegory can be ambiguous and uncertain (Law, 2004, p. 90). Law is suggesting that knowledge is not always as definite and precise as it may seem. Allegory provides a space in which more than one idea can co-exist. These multiple ideas, contingencies, interpretations or realities may not fit perfectly together. Law believes this is the art and beauty of allegory: it can ‘hold two or more things together that do not necessarily cohere’ (Law, 2004, p. 90). Law’s allegorical epistemology also facilitates the holding of multiple ‘goods’. Instead of the singular good of scientific, certified, positivist ‘truth’, Law advocates for a fractional enacted reality in which there are multiple goods. These goods can be measured in terms of the aforementioned ‘politics; justice; aesthetics; inspiration and the spiritual’ (Law, 2004, p. 153).

7.4.1 Everything Is Dangerous The inclusivity of fractionality is attractive. Likewise, the aspiration for creating a better world based on multiple goods is admirable. However, fractionality leaves the door open to relativism, which could sustain oppressive realities as part of the multiplicity. Hence it is a tricky basis with which to form a critical analysis of oppressive social realities. It is also, as Foucault says, ‘dangerous’. My point is not that everything is bad, but that everything is dangerous, which is not exactly the same as bad. If everything is dangerous, then we always have something to do. (Foucault 1998, 19 cited in Dean, 2010, p. 40)

The prevailing dangerousness and inherently political nature of knowledge argued for here can be depressing. How, then, can any action be taken without negative repercussions? How to move forward? What is the end game? The next line in Foucault’s position on dangerousness is important. It is as follows: So my position leads not to apathy but to hyper-and pessimistic activism. (Foucault, 1997, p. 256)

Foucault advocates action, but in the full (and pessimistic) knowledge that this action is likely to be imperfect. Foucault’s description of the prison system is an example of this kind of pessimistic action. …we are all aware of the inconveniences of the prison, and that it is dangerous when it is not useless. And yet one cannot ‘see’ how to replace it. It is the detestable solution, which one seems unable to do without. (Foucault, 1979, p. 232)

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Even though we cannot see how best to act, it is important to act to make a better world. Action needs to be taken, and knowledge needs to be produced. Prisons might seem necessary now, but they may not be in the future through a pessimistic pursuit of alternatives. However, researchers need to be conscious of the world they are creating with the knowledge they are producing. Knowledge creation as a means by which to contribute to creating the world we would like to exist; as compared to the one that exists now (Law & Urry, 2004, p. 393; Strega, 2005, p. 200). Research can contribute to the making of multiple realities (multiple worlds) in which truth is allegorical and there is space for difference, for contradiction, for multiplicity (Law & Urry, 2004, p. 397). The reality of presence and absence in research means that ‘facts’ are not neutral (Strega, 2005, p. 207). Instead, facts are always presented and interpreted within the prioritisations of presence and absence, of existing discourses and of ideological assumptions. Awareness and articulation of these ethical foundations are essential to Strega’s positioning of research as a political activity. As a political activity, she describes ‘research as a practice of resistance’ (Strega, 2005, p. 227). Conceptualising research as resistance requires researchers to be aware of their ethical positions, prejudices, disciplinary allegiances and the influences these have on their research. Teo (2010) argues that this ‘is not about political correctness but about scientific correctness’ (p. 198). He argues working to overcome epistemological violence is about creating good science. I submit that it is about both. Zizek (2008) concludes his book on violence with the idea that ‘Sometimes, doing nothing is the most violent thing to do’ (p. 183). He tells a story of a fictional town and the process of electing their government. In the election, a large proportion of the ballots were returned blank. The ruling party determined there was insufficient participation to call the election and held a second round of voting in which an even larger proportion of the ballots were blank. Zizek argues this inaction by the populace was a stronger message than simply voting for the opposition party. This action, he argues, causes even greater disruption as it rejects the very notion of collective governance. My point here is that a researcher stating what might be perceived by others as an ‘incorrect’ or ‘negative’ politics or account of youth or violence that underpins their research is disruptive and potentially harmful. However, a social scientist who fails to name or identify their politics is potentially even more harmful as it rejects the notion that science is political. A fractional epistemology requires, Law (2004) argues, careful articulation and a particular vocabulary (p. 41). Adopting a fractional epistemology necessitates the identification and expression of one’s political position and the acknowledgement of having a political position. However, rather than talking about ‘good’ or ‘bad’ methods, Law believes there is a need to focus on the realities that knowledge produces and the consequences of methods for producing knowledge (p. 38). He advocates for an approach to methods that is not concerned with how to ‘discover’ realities, but instead that emphasises their ‘enactment’ (p. 45). For the study of youth, and violence this shifts the focus away from simply the initial starting definition of

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the key terms and political positions. Instead, this approach advocates a focus on the political and personal implications of the epistemological assumptions. This approach can be described as political fractionality.

7.5 Personal and Ethical Orientations Adopting political fractionality requires the explicit identification and articulation of a researcher’s position. This, in turn, facilitates discussion and debate of these positions and consideration of the implications. As such I offer my political positioning. My research is built on my ethical orientation towards young people as valuable, but also, an excluded and a marginalised population. This is informed by tertiary training and practice as a youth worker with an orientation towards young people as the ‘primary client’ (Sercombe, 2010; Youth Affairs Council of Western Australia, 2003). My research seeks to make young people’s knowledges and experiences ‘present’ and, in doing so, will unavoidably make others ‘absent’. The other major ethical orientation underpinning this project is a normative understanding of violence as a negative phenomenon. This research begins with the intention to promote young people as full citizens and reduce the prevalence and impact of violence. This orientation influences the knowledge produced through my work and the enactment of a particular reality. To begin to grasp the implications or the kind of world I am likely to enact it is also important to reflexively consider the contextual factors of my personal biography. I am an able-bodied Anglo-Saxon male, from a middle-class Christian family, in my mid-thirties (at the time of writing). This is a personal biography and social context that is typically associated with privilege. Furthermore, I have worked as a youth worker around issues of violence and peacebuilding for over ten years. My approach is explicit in its political orientation, and the goal is clear: to promote young people as full and capable citizens, and to negate the negative effects of violence. Despite the intentional reflexive work that underpins best practice youth work and research, it remains impossible for me to objectively present the ideas from, for example, one of the participants in this study who identified as a 16-year old female, first-generation migrant. My previous experience as a youth worker with young people in child protection, juvenile justice, alternative accommodation, education settings, violence prevention, interfaith dialogue, and nonviolent leadership programs informed the conversations I had in interviews, the lens through which I analysed the data, and the language, times and spaces I chose to communicate findings. These factors will unavoidably influence the knowledge produced through this research and the world I participate in enacting. However, I own these influences and orientations, and acknowledge the partial and allegorical nature of the truths within this book. In stating them I open up for debate the assumptions and conclusions I have presented. There is more than one potential reality or conclusion possible based on the data. The conclusions are offered in this book are likely to apply ‘so far, but only so far’.

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7.6 Conclusion Universalising epistemologies are insufficient to wrestle with the political, and at times contradictory, nature of social reality and in particular the problems of youth violence. However, the relativist assertions that prioritise individual experience are also insufficient, as they are ill-equipped for tackling structural oppression. Both these approaches present the possibility of epistemological violence as a result of the systems of cultural and symbolic violence. Instead, political fractionality offers a method to acknowledge the allegorical nature of knowledge, the multiplicity of the social and at the same time the limits of how far conclusions can remain relevant. This approach requires that researchers examine, identify and articulate their political orientation. Furthermore, it requires that social scientists measure the value of their epistemology in terms of the effects it has in constructing reality. The multiplicity and complexity facilitated by political fractionality values the experiences of young people, makes space for contradiction and complexity, and conceptualises the lived effects of youth violence. This approach makes young people’s political and contingent experiences of subjective violation present, whilst also connecting these experiences to the broader narratives of objective violence. This approach opens up possibilities for accessing multiple discourses and reflexively responding to the conflicting agencies operating in the social world and between researcher and participant. In Zizek’s story of the town that held an election, voting for or against the ruling party is built on the assumed value of collective governance. In a similar way, any argument for singular (universalizing) or multiple (relativising) truth is built on the assumption that it there is value in studying a phenomenon and that doing so creates good and useful knowledge. Political fractionality shifts the focus from evaluating the best epistemology between universalising and relativising approaches, to evaluating the underpinning politic orientation and the implications or effects of the epistemology. It highlights the dangers of researching violence and the potential for complicity in epistemological violence. Political fractionality measures the knowledge produced not in terms of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ epistemologies, but in terms of what effect it has on the world. To do this requires first stating our epistemologies and then examining our methods, with the aims of circumventing epistemological violence to the subjects of the research. The subsequent chapter continues the process of examining the implications of my stated politics and the reality it constructs by scrutinising participatory methods with young people.

References Bacchi, C. (2009). Analysing policy: What’s the problem represented to be?. Frenchs Forrest, NSW: Pearson. Becker, H. S. (1967). Whose side are we on. Social Problems, 14(3), 239–247.

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Scott, S. (2014). Making sense of everyday life. Cambridge: Polity Press. Sercombe, H. (1992). Youth theory: Marx or Foucault response to Tait. Youth Studies Australia, 11(2), 51–54. Sercombe, H. (2010). Youth work ethics. London: SAGE Publications. Shildrick, T., MacDonald, R., & Furlong, A. (2016). Not single spies but in battalions: A critical, sociological engagement with the idea of so-called ‘troubled families’. The Sociological Review. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-954x.12425. Strega, S. (2005). The view from the poststructural margins. In L. A. Brown & S. Strega (Eds.), Research as resistance (pp. 199–235). Toronto: Canadian Scholars Press. Teo, T. (2010). What is epistemological violence in the empirical social sciences? Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 4(5), 295–303. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1751-9004.2010.002 65.xC. Walsh, L., & Black, R. (2014). The ambiguous mobilities of young Australians. In P. Kelly & A. Kamp (Eds.), A critical youth studies for the 21st century. Brill: Leiden, Boston. White, R., & Wyn, J. (2011). Youth and society: Exploring the social dynamics of youth experience (2nd ed.). South Melbourne, Victoria: Oxford University Press. Wieviorka, M. (2005). Violence: A New Approach (D. Macey, Trans.). London: SAGE. Wieviorka, M. (2014). The sociological analysis of violence: New perspectives. The Sociological Review, 62(S2), 50–64. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-954X.12191. Woodman, D., & Threadgold, S. (2011). The future of the sociology of youth. Youth Studies Australia, 30(3), 8–12. Woodman, D., & Threadgold, S. (2014). Critical youth studies in an individualized and globalized world: Making the most of Bourdieu and Beck. A critical youth studies for the 21st century (pp. 552–566). Brill: Leiden, Boston. Wyn, J., & White, R. (1997). Rethinking youth. London: SAGE. Youth Affairs Council of Western Australia. (2003). Code of ethics for youth work. West Leederville, Perth, Australia: Youth Affairs Council of Western Australia. Zizek, S. (2008). Violence: Six sideways reflections. London, UK: Profile Books LTD.

Chapter 8

Participatory Methods: The Violence of Adult Centricity

The problems of power and representation in research methods are a continuing issue for qualitative researchers. These concerns have led youth researchers to develop and adopt a variety of techniques and ethical principles to position young people as active research participants. Crucial to centralising young people in research are the ideals of youth participation and participatory methods in research. However, these methods and principles have not solved the challenges of youth participation or the problems of power in the researcher-participant relationship in qualitative research more generally. Furthermore, the differentiation between power and violence I have argued for in this book raises new concerns about the potential for previously unrecognised subjective and objective violence within the research encounter. Youth research remains an adult-centric process despite attempts to make it participant-led. Youth research intensifies the problems of participation in qualitative research as young people are routinely positioned as risky and incapable by the processes that govern research. Within the current risk-averse ethics climate some of the challenges of research participation are likely to be unsolvable. Furthermore, methods that are designed to encourage participation can obscure the multiplicity of power dynamics within a research encounter. As a result, the potential for violence has also been obscured. Identifying this potential doesn’t immediately solve these problems, but it is an essential first step towards this goal. In the previous chapter, I argued for a political and fractional epistemology, as well as explicit political and ethical orientations. In light of this, in this chapter, I critically question the tenants of participatory methods in youth research and argue that there is a need to accept that some of the problems of participation might be unsolvable. Furthermore, I offer a reconceptualisation of the power relationship between young people and researchers. Existing ethics processes are adult-centric and can produce paradoxically unethical and violating results. I argue that youth participation in qualitative research can be understood as parallel projects. Reconceptualising the dynamic in this way and valuing young people’s reasons for participation is important as it reveals the symbolic violence and cultural violence produced through adult-centric

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risk-averse ethics processes. Moreover, in contrast to prevailing assumptions, young people might be ‘keen as fuck’ (participant quote) to participate in research. To reposition young people’s participation in qualitative research, I describe the research encounter as containing parallel projects. The researcher arrives at an encounter with their research project. I argue the young person also arrives at the encounter with a (or more) project(s). The project includes the reason for participation, the method of engagement and the goals pursued through the research encounter. Participants’ projects sometimes parallel the researchers’. At other times the projects might conflict. Researchers might be able to identify and understand some young people’s projects. Other reasons for participation will be unrecognised or misunderstood. Youth research is a messy space with multiple contingencies. As such, the researcher cannot know or control the whole research process. Conceptualising qualitative youth research as parallel projects does not excuse the researcher from the responsibility to manage the risks and dangerousness of the process. Instead, this approach to youth participation positions the adult as a research participant. This approach avoids enacting a reality in which young people (and qualitative research participants generally) as inherently disempowered, disinterested or risky participants in research by recognising that participants have projects that motivate and direct their participation. In addition to the semi-structured conversations that were the primary data and focus of this project, at the end of their interview participants were asked two supplementary questions: Has this conversation been useful to you in any way? What was your motivation for participating in the interview? These questions were designed to gain an understanding of their reasons for participating and their experience of the interview. Participant responses to these questions are the focus of this chapter. It is essential, however, to contextualise this discussion within the existing literature on youth participation, and more broadly researcher-participants relationships and ethics review processes. As such, this chapter begins with a brief overview of youth participation principles and practices. Subsequently, I present participant responses and simultaneously discuss them to develop my argument for conceptualising young people’s participation in research as parallel projects.

8.1 Principles and Practices of Youth Participation Researchers interested in children and young people have employed, and are continuing to develop, ‘participant centred’ methods in an attempt to avoid ‘studying down’ (Allen, 2008, p. 565). Over time there has been a shift towards an understanding of children and young people as not simply passive in the research process, but rather active subjects (Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 161). This shift reflects a broader movement in qualitative methods to acknowledge the co-created nature of qualitative social science knowledge (Connor, Copland, & Owen, 2017, p. 8; Lund, Panda, & Dhal, 2016, p. 283). Qualitative social science research is messy, and power

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dynamics between researchers and participants are complex (Connor et al., 2017, p. 2; Doyle & Buckley, 2017, p. 96). To navigate this complexity and diversity ethically, researchers interested in young people have worked to support a discourse of active participants and designed diverse methodologies (Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 162). For example, youth researchers craft methods that foster opportunities for young people to utilise non-verbal mediums of communication. These methods have resulted in techniques that facilitate the expression of their ‘voice’ in ways that are meaningful to them (Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 162; Lomax, 2005, p. 106) and have included techniques such as photo diaries, drawing, video and audio recording of conversations. These mediums are designed to be more engaging, but also alternative mediums can enable participants to express complex and difficult ideas and emotions (Hunleth, 2011, p. 86). Furthermore, Dean (2015, p. 3.1) advocates that the process of ‘doing something’ (i.e. drawing or taking photos) adds value to the experience for the participants and builds a stronger connection to the experience and memory. Interactive, creative and visual mediums are argued to increase young people’s engagement and participation in research (Åkerström & Brunnberg, 2013, p. 528; Gabb, 2010, p. 464). However, these methods can obscure the multiplicity of powerknowledge dynamics and the adult-centric nature of research (Hunleth, 2011, p. 82; Lomax, 2005, p. 106). Furthermore, the argument that these methods are more engaging or more appropriate ignores the possibility young people might be participating in research for reasons that are their own. It diminishes the young people’s motivation and agency, suggesting that the medium needs to be engaging to capture the participants’ interest in the researcher’s agenda. In centralising the researcher and their agenda, it obscures the possibility that young people participate for their own reasons and that these reasons might not be anticipated or even understood by the researcher. It is important to remember that these supposedly engaging and appropriate mediums are created by adults. Likewise, their successfulness and usefulness is being measured in terms that are defined by the researchers; i.e. participation. Hence, despite good intentions, research remains an adult-centred project. Finally, the argument that creative methods increase participation implies that young people are passive participants or incapable objects of research. Supposedly, only creative mediums can engage these passive and incapable people. To further explore the methods and issues of youth participation there is a need to return to foundational principles. The 1989 United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) enshrines young people’s right to participate in decisionmaking processes that affect them (United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, 1989). Article 12 is the often-cited foundation for the right of the child to participate in research (Åkerström & Brunnberg, 2013, p. 530). Enshrining young people’s right to participate in decision making that affects them provides a framework to consider their exclusion from research as a form of violence. As discussed in Chap. 2, a broad understanding of violence as violation facilitates the recognition that violence is not simply physical force, but can extend to the violation of human rights (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 197) and the production of ‘unequal life chances’ (Galtung, 1969, p. 171). While the violation of rights is not a physical form of violence, it can

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still be a direct, visible and perhaps subjective violation. However, young people’s exclusion from participation in decision making and in research also takes on much more subtle means and objective forms of violence. The UNCRC is the result of a broader movement in the 1970s and 1980s towards youth participation in politics (Harris, 2009, p. 301). Harris argues that in the 1990s this interest shifted towards the language of ‘citizenship’, and again later in the 2000s towards ‘civic engagement’ (p. 302). These later shifts are important as this movement is caught up in an attempt to solve a perceived issue of young people failing to participate. The movement to increase young people’s participation in politics is positive and addresses some of the structural violation resulting from their systematic exclusion. However, ‘civic engagement’ represents an attempt to ‘train’ young people in the ‘skills’ required to participate (Fox, 2013, p. 987). This civic engagement discourse arguably has a greater emphasis on control rather than participation. This shift from participation to control reflects the two sides a dual discourse of responsibility and innocence/riskiness within youth (Bessant, 2011, p. 64; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). Civic engagement positions young people as risky and incapable objects that need to be trained and have their participation regulated. As a result, the movement to challenge the structural violence of exclusion from participation has been reinterpreted or manipulated by exclusive discourses of youth. These exclusive discourses are a form of cultural violence that continues to justify young people’s exclusion and oppression. The discourses and systemic issues that exclude young people from participation are many, subtle and varied. An important common factor in these objective systems that violate this human right is adult centricity.

8.2 Ethical Orientations Youth participatory methods for doing research ‘with’, and not simply ‘on’, young people reflects an ethical orientation towards valuing young people as equal contributors to knowledge creation. However, the dual discourses of youth can subvert the researcher’s intention. Young people’s representation in research shapes the knowledge produced. If the target group is described as ‘challenging pupils’ (Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 163), then the findings will likely reinforce the idea that young people are problematic. Furthermore, the assumed category of youth itself is underpinned by normative biological, psychological, and social discourses which form distinctions between adults and ‘not-yet-adult’ participants (Sercombe, 2010, p. 19; Tait, 1993, p. 42; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 22; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 8). Hence, as discussed in previous chapters, utilising the term youth carries exclusionary baggage. Young people popularly symbolise a source of hope and social change. However, they are also regularly represented as politically disengaged, apathetic and incompetent (Harris, 2009, p. 302; Smith, 2015, p. 359; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 110). The ‘dual popular representation’ (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19) of young people positions them as simultaneously capable and responsible, whilst also needing protection or being a risk to others. It is possible to draw on either side of this discourse to justify young

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people’s exclusion from participation in decision making and research methods. Young people can be positioned as vulnerable or risky. In both cases, participation in research requires adult and caregiver permission and control of the process. In the previous chapter, I argued that failure to examine and articulate ethical orientations and the political discourses underpinning research can result in researchers ‘wrongly collud[ing] in the enactment of dominant realities’ (Law & Urry, 2004, p. 399). For example, Allen (2008) identifies a shift within methodological literature in the terms that describe a young person’s participation from ‘rebellion and delinquency’ to ‘resistance’ (Allen, 2008, p. 566). This shift is an important move away from the association of young people with deviant labels. However, ‘resistance’ can perpetuate an understanding of young people in a passive role. Young people can resist, but do not lead. Merely labelling methods as participatory or youth-led can serve to obscure the underpinning discourses of youth (Hunleth, 2011, p. 82). As I have argued previously, youth researchers need to be aware of these discourses and be explicit in their ethical orientation. As mentioned earlier, young people’s right to participate in research is a central principle in youth research and is enshrined in the UNCRC (Article 12). Hart (1992) describes ideal participation as involving child-initiated projects that are shared with adults. This principle is held in tension by youth researchers with risk assessment and research ethics processes which emphasise the need to protect young people from the risks of participation. The movement towards participation is a shift towards an understanding of young people as active subjects, rather than passive objects of research (Allen, 2008, p. 565; 2009, p. 396; Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 161). In contrast, Allen (2009) describes the historical practice of youth-focused research taking place through ‘adult proxies’ (i.e. parents, family members, and teachers) (p. 396). The orthodoxy of youth research has moved away from this position. However, youth research continues to be regulated by adult-centric processes (i.e. ethics and risk management processes). These attempts to assess the competency and capability of young people to participate in research are ‘paternalistic as they begin from a position of adult hegemony’ (Daley, 2013, p. 128). Adults are the designers as well as the implementers of these systems of control. Youth researchers and qualitative researchers, in general, have found that the adultcentric ethics review process can produce paradoxically unethical results (Connor et al., 2017; Doyle & Buckley, 2017; Gabb, 2010). For example, Pickles (2019) argues ethics committees ‘risk violating their own ethical principles’ (p. 7) when they require all young people to have parental consent to participate in research. Parental consent is often considered the standard for ethical research with minors. However, Pickles points out that this assumes all parents can be trusted (p. 7). As a result, requiring parental consent potentially puts young people in risky situations to gain this consent (Pickles, 2019, p. 7). Another example again comes from Allen (2009), who recounts designing a research project that ‘endeavoured to prioritise the agency and competency of young people’ (p. 339). However, after completing the ethics approval process the dominant story of the research became the ‘self-governing

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researcher who complied with committee regulations’ (Allen, 2009, p. 339). The adults and compliance with adult concerns became the central story of the research, rather than the agency and competence of the young people. While youth researchers continue to wrestle with the infantilisation of young people, Connor et al. (2017) argue that these risk-averse ethics processes also infantilise the researcher. Connor et al. (2017), as well as Doyle and Buckley (2017), argue that origins of the ethics review process in the positivist bio-medical model are problematic for the ‘subjective, messy and non-linear’ (Doyle & Buckley, 2017, p. 96) social sciences. Qualitative researchers concede that there are inherent problems of power in the research-participant dynamic (Connor et al., 2017, p. 2). This acceptance of ambiguity is at odds with the risk management operations of research ethics committees (Connor et al., 2017, p. 468; Gabb, 2010). As a result, Doyle and Buckley (2017) argue that researchers are required to demonstrate that they are not ‘irresponsible and even dangerous’ (p. 103). Each new project requires a re-articulation of the familiar arguments about the capacity of participants (and researcher) and the mitigations of potential risks. Connor et al. (2017) argue this kind of rote process is the result of the ‘blizzard of paperwork’ (p. 9) involved in ethics applications. The probability of achieving ethics approval is therefore heavily linked to the ability of the researcher to articulate their argument and prove their own non-riskiness. This dependence on the capacities of the researcher further centralises the adult and decentralises the young person in the research project. To be clear, I am not arguing for abandoning ethics review processes. I am, however, pointing out how the process has become a barrier to ethical research and compromises research integrity.

8.2.1 Adult Centricity Hart’s (1992) well established ‘ladder of participation’ is a model that describes different types, or levels, of participation and cooperation between children/young people and adults. The bottom rungs of the ladder represent non-participation, and the top rungs identify increasingly ideal forms of participation. The ladder tops-out at an approach which is child/young people initiated and includes shared decisionmaking with adults. The two rungs below are, in descending order, ‘child-initiated and directed’ and ‘adult initiated with shared decisions with children’ (Hart, 1992, p. 8). Importantly the adult is not absent in the top rung of the ladder. The ideal form of participation in Hart’s model is not young people operating entirely on their own. Rather, the adult’s exclusion at the second level is considered a lesser form of participation. In this model cooperation as equals in the pursuit of young people’s interests is the goal. In theory, ideal youth participatory methods are participant-led, and adults are involved in the process. However, there are social, historical, procedural and institutional barriers that make this ideal all but unachievable. Young people are a marginalised group, and youth is a social category of exclusion (Sercombe, 2010, p. 19; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 22; Wyn & White, 1997, p. 8). Research institutions,

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like political institutions, are ‘created by adults to serve an adult agenda and are not structured around young people’s interests or designed to engage them’ (Harris, 2009, p. 302). The solution, similar to Freire’s reconstruction of education, is not to integrate young people into the adult structures ‘but to transform that structure so that they [the young people] can become ‘beings for themselves”(Freire, 2005, p. 74). Youth research needs new language to conceptualise the researcher-participant relationship. This new language needs to explicitly identify the allegorical and partial nature of the knowledge held by the researchers, and simultaneously emphasise the competence and capacity of young people. Ironically, in this paper the language is again being articulated by an adult, and therefore is in part reproducing adult centricity. Hence, there is a need to as much as is possible, seek to acknowledge young people’s reasons for participation in their own words. Furthermore to acknowledge that young people’s reasons might not always be articulated or understood, or for that matter, be the reasons expected or desired. The researcher might not understand or be aware of the reasons young people participate. Young people might simply not tell us, or perhaps be aware of all the reasons themselves. Freire describes the failure to respect the participant’s perspective as ‘cultural invasion’ (2005, p. 95). Moreover, in the previous chapter, I outlined the risks of symbolic violence and cultural violence in the epistemologies and enactment of research. Examining the dangerousness of research with young people and the potential for symbolic and cultural violence requires a respectful acknowledgement of the unknown. This respect for participants’ perspectives requires adopting the ‘language of exploration’ (Gabb, 2010, p. 467), that creates space for young people’s reasons to exist on their terms. Within this space, there is likely to be conflicting reasons and motivations for participation. Conflict between the researcher and participant, and conflicts within the researcher and participants. The researcher might want to engage a young person respectfully, but at the same time find them uncomfortable to be with. Likewise, a young person might want to participate in the research out of interest for the topic, but find the method of engagement off-putting. A space with the potential for conflict and complexity is open to positioning the young person as competent, without necessarily positioning the researcher as incompetent (and vice-a-versa). Finally, in this space, there needs to be a reassessment of who retains what responsibility to manage the risks of research. A useful starting point might be to suggest the researcher is responsible to manage the risks they bring to the research encounter. This paper offers a conceptualisation of the qualitative research encounter as parallel projects as a possible way forward.

8.3 Parallel Projects One young person responded enthusiastically to the invitation to participate in this research project saying that they were ‘keen as fuck’. This level of enthusiasm contrasts traditional adult-centric views which position young people as incompetent

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(Fox, 2013, p. 987), incapable (Allen, 2009, p. 404) or disinterested in participating in research (Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 163). That a young person might exhibit this level of enthusiasm to participate prompts reflection on the benefit or value the young person receives from participation. Clark (2010) argues that there has been ‘little systematic research’ about people’s reasons for participating in research that considers the risks and motivating factors (p. 415). However, both Clark (2010) and Wolgemuth et al. (2015) explore the experience of ‘being researched’, and produce some interesting results. Examining the value that participants receive from participation centres the concern of the participant (young person) in the research encounter. Simply understanding the reasons young people participate in research doesn’t immediately undo the adult-centric processes that dominate research. However, it does begin to reveal the domination of research by adult interests and as such opens up possibilities to challenge this domination. Clark (2010) interviews thirteen ‘experienced researchers’ who had recently utilised qualitative methods to investigate a diverse range of social phenomena and that were ‘concerned with children and families in some respect’ (p. 403). Key findings from Clark’s research include that people participate in research for personal reasons: ‘subjective interest, curiosity, enjoyment, individual empowerment, introspective interest, social comparison, therapeutic interest, material interest and economic interest’ (Clark, 2010, p. 404). People also participate for collective reasons including: ‘representation and giving voice; political empowerment; and, informing “change”’ (Clark, 2010, p. 411). Clark’s findings suggest that people participate for multiple reasons. Clark notes, however, that there are usually few attempts by researchers to gather the expressed experience of those ‘being researched’ (2010, p. 399). Moreover, it is important to note that Clark interviews the researchers, who might be described as the ‘adult proxies’ (Allen, 2009, p. 396), not the participants of qualitative research themselves. This approach can be justified for a range of pragmatic reasons (such as access to participants), but the absence of research participants voices in this space demonstrates the domination by adult voices and the violation of Article 12. Building on Clark’s work, Wolgemuth et al. (2015) study finds that different research paradigms have little effect on the participants’ experience. Instead, the relationship with the researcher proves to have significant influence (Wolgemuth et al., 2015, p. 368). This finding echoes the ideals regarding collaboration between adults and young people in Hart’s ladder, however, it also raises several questions. If, as Wolgemuth et al. (2015) argue, the relationship is central to the participant’s experience then this suggests a responsibility on the part of the adults in research to manage the relational dynamics and risks to achieve positive outcomes. As already stated, in a way this finding about relationships and the adult’s responsibilities reinforces the ideal form of participation from Hart’s ladder. However, in another way, it contradicts this model as the relational emphasis is ambiguous about who initiates the project and who manages which risks. The assumption that the participant has a positive experience of research through the relationship with the researcher, implies

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that the researcher is a responsible adult who manages the relationship to make it positive. In contrast, it is conceivable that it might be the participant who manages the relationship to make it a positive experience and achieve their own outcomes, and as such inverting the assumed power dynamic. Following the line of thinking about power, the idea of empowerment in research is problematic. Empowerment is routinely identified as an important outcome for participants in youth research (Allen, 2009, p. 398; Clark, 2010, p. 411; Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 162; Harris, Jackson, Mayblin, Piekut, & Valentine, 2015, p. 584; Lyon & Carabelli, 2015, p. 4). However, claims of empowerment are often overstated (Harris et al., 2015, p. 585; Lyon & Carabelli, 2015, p. 4), and Clark concludes that the findings were ‘representative of those researcher viewpoints who took part in the study’ (Clark, 2010, p. 415). Empowerment is a problematic idea in research as it implies a disempowered a priori state for the participant. It also implies a hierarchical transaction whereby the lower status participant gains power, seemingly at the expense of the higher status researcher. The hierarchical conception of power relationships in the research encounter reinforces some of the concerns raised in the previous chapter about the dangerousness of ‘proposing’ or imposing an epistemological regime; ‘As soon as one “proposes”— one proposes a vocabulary, an ideology, which can only have effects of domination’ (Foucault, 1988, p. 197). Briefly outlined in the previous chapter, are Teo’s (2010) description of the potential for ‘epistemological violence’ in social science, and Farrugia’s (2013) argument regarding the risk in youth research that the researcher can participate in ‘symbolic violence’ (Bourdieu, 2001, p. 33). Farrugia became aware that his approach to interviewing homeless young people might be reproducing ‘suffering and stigmatisation due to the dominant discourses that give meaning to the experience of homelessness’ (Farrugia, 2013, p. 113). The language and symbolic meaning of homelessness in modern society positions young people as risky, incompetent, ‘moral failures’ (p. 114). In contrast, as also discussed in the previous chapter, there is likely to also be the potential for cultural violence if the researcher doesn’t propose or provide a framework for their research. If Farrugia didn’t acknowledge the negative associations, suffering and stigmatisation that homeless young people do experience it would represent a failure to challenge these dominant discourses and become complicit in their ongoing enactment. The language of empowerment and uncritical emphasis on the benefits of the research relationship contain implied hierarchies of power that positions research participants without power. Discourses of participation that centre around adult concerns, responsibilities and outcomes overlook and obscure the participant’s interests, concerns and reasons for participating in research. As Farrugia demonstrates, even well-intended adult conceived research projects risk enacting regimes of symbolic violence if they fail to consider the young person’s experience of the topic of study. Positioning participants in negative terms or through exclusionary discourses as disinterested and incapable is epistemologically violating and a product of objective violence. Furthermore, failing to account for or appreciate young people’s

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reasons for participating or managing the relationship in the research encounter also centralises the adult and violates the young person’s right to participating on their terms.

8.3.1 De-Centring the Adult My research reveals that there are a range of reasons young people participate in research. Some of these reasons align with Wolgemuth et al. (2015) and Clark’s (2010) findings, and others do not. When asked about their reason for participating in the interview the participants’ responses were unsurprising and yet also important in a young person-centred understanding of participation. Me: So tell me, why did you agree to have this conversation? Jackson: I was, kind of not liking the other person in the classroom … I don’t like other people.

For Jackson, the research provides an opportunity to escape a less desirable situation. This escape may not be an active reason for participation or a desirable reason from an adult perspective, but he has an active reason not to do the alternative (i.e. be in the classroom). This reason has little relationship to the researcher’s project. However, it does not necessarily mean that the young person does not want to participate, or that the participation is coerced. Rather, it could be argued that Jackson is manipulating me and managing the relationship for his purposes. This discussion, however, is speculative. All we know is that Jackson says he does not want to be in the classroom. The rest remains unknown and to decentre the adult this absence of knowledge must be acknowledged. Furthermore, acknowledging young people’s potential to manipulate research for their own purposes continues the movement away from conceptualising young people as objects of research, to active subjects of research (Allen, 2008, p. 565; Gillies & Robinson, 2012, p. 161; Harris et al., 2015, p. 584). The following young person (Mia) expresses a reason for participation that appears to parallel the researcher’s project. However, it is not necessarily the same as the researcher’s project. Mia: Because I have always wanted to speak to someone about it. Like always, and you just happened to come up. So I was like yeah for sure. I’d love to tell someone this story.

In this instance, Mia’s reason for participation and my research objectives appear to be heading in the same direction. Our objectives can be described as two distinct projects running in parallel. However, the apparent parallel between the projects can be misleading. It can appear that the research is the only, or ideal, way of fulfilling Mia’s desire to tell her story. It is important that even though the projects are heading in the same direction, they are also separate and distinct. The alignment of direction could be (mis)understood in an adult-centric way. Mia’s project could be understood as being the same as my project. However, there are many other ways a young person’s story can be heard, valued and amplified. If the desired outcome of participation is

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having your story heard (by an adult), it is dependent on an adult hearing the story. However, this would overlook the simpler truth that the young person wanted to tell their story. The value of participation is the opportunity for the agentic telling of their story (Lyon & Carabelli, 2015, p. 13). Telling their stories is a ‘revolutionary act’ (Leonard & McLaren, 1992, p. 72). Despite who is listening to the story, the act of telling changes the young person’s world. Focussing on the telling of the story emphasises the young person’s reason for participation. The following reflection supports the findings from Wolgemuth et al. (2015) regarding the importance of relationships within the research encounter. However, what came after the interview offers more context and an additional reason for participation. In this instance, I had met Lucas previously in a professional context. Lucas: I get to catch up with you. You are a sick cunt. And it has been eye-opening sort of interesting day start. To see what you are studying and see how for the little bits of psychology that I have studied here and there correspond to the violence and whatnot in your PhD.

Highlighted here is Lucas’ agenda to maintain a relationship. Lucas is using the research for this purpose, and he is contributing to the management of the relationship. After the interview is complete, Lucas attempts to sell me illicit drugs. This represents a further agenda for participation. This reason may make researchers uncomfortable and raise ethical questions. It also reminds us that participants are motivated to be involved in research for less high-minded reasons. While these kinds of reasons raise ethical questions, they don’t diminish the right to participation. The attempted sale of illicit drugs raises some particular ethical and risk management concerns. However, it also further highlights the dominance of adult-centricity in research. For example, when presenting this finding to other researchers, an audience member persistently questioned the mandatory reporting obligations of the researcher. There are two significant points to consider in this instance. Firstly, the mandatory requirements in South Australia require the reporting of harm and abuse (South Australian Department of Child Protection, 2017). The selling of illicit drugs does not necessarily fall under this requirement (South Australian Department of Child Protection, 2017). Secondly, if a researcher reports these kinds of questionable practices they risk (at least) three issues: (1) They might gain a reputation amongst the target group of reporting and lose credibility and access; (2) They participate in a discourse of youth that identifies young people as risky and incompetent; (3) Reporting might also do harm, which would also contravene ethical requirements. This project underwent and received ethics approval, and this issue was managed in line with this process. However, to focus on the particulars of the ethics process, or to debate further reporting requirements would ironically be to again focus on the concerns of adults in the research process. This paragraph serves to highlight, as described earlier, how the concerns of ethics processes can be paradoxically ‘antithetical to the conduct of “ethical research”’ (Allen, 2009, p. 399). Focusing on adult identified risks and assessment processes in this paper would undermine the ethical concern, and central premise of this paper, that young people should be conceptualised as active capable subjects (not risky objects) of research.

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8.3.2 Valuing Young People’s Projects One idea Clark (2010, p. 402) identifies that casts participants as active subjects is the desire to help others through research. In my research, young people also express this altruistic response. In Clark’s (2010) work participants were primarily interested in helping others in a similar situation (p. 402). Young people in my research extend their concern beyond similarly situated people, to a broader sense of collective humanity. Participants understood the research encounter as a means to give back and improve the lives of everyone. This desire can be interpreted in an adult-centric way. Clark’s presentation of this reason for participation is as a staged process whereby (1) the data provided by the participant is (2) disseminated by the researcher, which being (3) read by others might then (4) effect change when applied in other people’s lives. However, there is another possible interpretation. Through the discursive action in the research encounter the participant challenges and creates knowledge that directly shapes (or governs) their sense of self and the world (Foucault, Burchell, Gordon, & Miller, 1991, p. 79). The research encounter becomes an opportunity for young people to do ‘work on the self’ (Tait, 1993, p. 52). In addition, the researcher is inexorably bound up in this discursive process and is also governed by productive power-knowledge relations (McGarry, 2015, p. 3). Participants (including the researcher) are rendered self-governing subjects, and the world is immediately changed. Through the participants’ altruistic responses it is possible to argue that the young person’s reason, what I am calling their project, for participating parallels the researcher’s reason for wanting their participation. They have different projects, but they are both heading in a sufficiently similar direction to make the encounter possible. This parallel is the case with the examples above. The projects were parallel enough to make the encounter possible. It is conceivable that some projects will be closer, and others further apart. There is likely to be a threshold of relative closeness that is required for the encounter to work. Furthermore, these projects might clash. I return to the potential for conflict in a moment. However, the following example demonstrates how close the parallel projects can be. Logan: I thought it might be a nice thing to do. Help someone out with their Uni stuff. Um, yeah and also I guess, yeah, its yeah I find it good to talk about nonviolence and to, um, think about these things and clarify my ideas and all that kind of stuff.

Logan expresses several projects in this short excerpt that challenge adult centricity. Firstly, he believes it might be a ‘nice thing to do’. The experience has value in itself. Again, he expresses a desire to help someone else (in this case me). Finally, he identifies value in ‘clarifying my ideas’. As noted earlier, Tait suggests that youth can be problematised as doing ‘work on the self’ (1993, p. 42). In youth, the young person generates knowledge about the world and themselves. With this knowledge, they govern themselves. Youth can, therefore, be understood as an ‘artefact government’ (Tait, 1993, p. 4) or an ‘artefact of expertise’ (Kelly, 2010, p. 312). The research encounter is an opportunity through which the young person is active in the development of knowledge about themselves and the world.

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In Logan’s reflection, our two projects are very closely aligned. However, it is important to hold on to the distinction between the two projects. Tait (1993) describes the process of knowledge generation for self-formation. However, Kelly (2010) raises the idea of ‘expertise’ as a warning. Young people and youth are increasingly governmentalised. Knowledge is developed about young people and youth to govern them (Kelly, 2010, p. 302). The project of knowledge creation for the purpose of governing primarily belongs to the regulating and controlling ‘carceral network’ (Foucault, 1979, p. 310). It should not be confused with the projects that motivate young people’s participation in research. The distinction here is reflective of the distinction between the purpose of youth participation and the purpose of civic engagement. Maintaining the distinction between the adult knowledge generation as the purpose of research and the young person’s stated outcome, ‘clarifying my ideas’, is important to centralise the young person. Conceptualising the research encounter as parallel projects values both the researcher’s project and the young person’s. It acknowledges that they are distinct, no matter how closely aligned they may seem. It upholds the right for young people to participate in research for their own reasons, and importantly also acknowledges the co-created nature of the knowledge in qualitative research. Both the young person’s and the researcher’s project shape the nature of the encounter. Furthermore, there might be multiple projects held by multiple parties. Researchers regularly have multiple projects operating within an interview, and likewise so can a young person. Lucas attempts to sell me drugs, but he also expresses a desire to maintain a relationship. This approach can value multiple projects, whilst acknowledging that the outputs of any given project might not benefit the other party. For example, academic publications arguably hold little tangible benefit for young people, whilst a young person seeking to avoid other people in a classroom is not a motivation intended to benefit the researcher. Together they can both achieve something mutually beneficial whilst remaining distinct projects. In the following excerpt, two young people are interviewed together at their request. The exchange demonstrates the co-creation of knowledge through multiple parallel projects. Chloe: I don’t know like, to help sort of thing. Cos I mean… Ryan: To help other people. Chloe: Yeah to help other people, like I mean. Yeah back in when I was younger the help that I got I am so thankful of. And the way I see it is if someone wants help or some information then I don’t see it as a problem sort of thing. You can’t really change what your past is. Ryan: You need to sort of help everyone else realise what is happening in life for you to realise as well.

Again, in this excerpt, the participants express a desire to help others. Other young people might find their stories helpful, or professionals and policymakers might find guidance for their practice. However, the interaction between the participants demonstrates the production of knowledge through conversation (McGarry, 2015, p. 1). Batsleer (2008) describes the way ‘sparks fly’ in conversation and ‘power relations shift and are transformed’ (p. 9). Conversation is a space where multiple projects and

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power relationships come together. Projects that ‘help everyone realise’, but that also help ‘you realise as well’. The encounter that results from the interaction of multiple parallel projects is not adult-centric but rather is located in the relationship (McGarry, 2015, p. 5). This relational space value the subjects’ (young person and researcher) parallel projects and their active and capable co-creation of knowledge. The young person and researcher form a relationship through the research and together participate in knowledge and subject formation (Farrugia, 2013, p. 112). Gabb (2010) argues that the trust and respect that is essential for the ‘relational contract between the researcher and participant’ in qualitative research extends beyond legal obligations and formal risk management processes (pp. 467–468). This kind of partnership reflects the dynamics between young people and adults in the top rung of Hart’s ladder. However, it is distinct from Hart’s model as he conceptualises only one project. This approach acknowledges multiple parallel projects in which two (or more) participants co-create knowledge. For the encounter to work, it appears that the projects need to run parallel. This is unlikely to always be the case and as such projects might clash and come into conflict. This conflict is another potential opportunity for insight. It also offers a perspective on the nature of the relationship between researchers and young people.

8.4 Conflicting Projects Conflict is often conflated with ideas like violence and war, or associated with emotions like anger. Hence the term implies a high level of energy or combativeness. However, conflict doesn’t automatically include elements of subjective or objective violence, instead it can be understood as simply an instance of opposing goals (Tillett & French, 2006, p. 17). This kind of clash can occur at a micro level between two (or more) people, as well as a macro level between two (or more) nation-states. Conflict can also happen internally. I could desire two opposing things at once, and be in conflict with myself. Galtung (1996, p. 70) argues conflict is an opportunity to find a creative solution. The following examples of conflicts from my research project are low-level conflicts. They do not involve physical violence or high emotional states. However, I argue that they do fulfil the criteria of competing goals. As a result of the dual discourses of youth and the adult-centric governing of research, conflicting goals already exist in youth research. A key example is the positioning of young people as competent in a risk management process. Furthermore, if young people’s projects in research are going to be valued, there is a chance they have a project which conflicts with the researcher’s. This conflict might be intentional or unconscious. It might be malicious or benign. However, conflicts between researchers and participants are an important insight in and of themselves (Harris et al., 2015, p. 596). To ignore the potential for conflicting projects in research is to present an inaccurate picture of the research encounter, and reinforces the adult-centric nature of research.

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During his interview, Lucas takes hold of a piece of paper that is being used to construct a timeline of his life. He then folds the paper into the shape of a hat. Later in the interview, he rips it in half to demonstrate a point he is making. Lucas: I just destroyed the timeline. Me: I’ll keep it anyway.

The timeline is a unique and significant piece of data and record of the conversation. This data is an invaluable outcome of the research for the researcher. Lucas repurposes it for his project, potentially conflicting with the value that it held for the researcher’s project. However, the greater purpose of the timeline is as a medium through which to draw out insights and to create an experience (Dean, 2015, p. 3.1). This point of conflict could derail the interview. However, conflict can be engaged through a relational model as an opportunity (Batsleer, 2008, p. 7; Ritchie & O’Connell, 2001, p. 155). As such, a young person’s adaption, if approached generously, can provide new insights and unanticipated opportunities. Several other interviews contain varying levels of conflict. One participant persistently makes up insulting jokes about my physical appearance during his interview. However, this young person also shares that they found making fun of others an effective technique to resist the subjective violence they encounter in the child protection system. This insight is unlikely to have happen if the conflict is not engaged as an opportunity. In another interview, two young people request to be interviewed together whilst smoking cigarettes. Vince: It fucken tastes like Port Royal. Andrew: Straight off the plant that’s how it should taste. Me: So I have pressed record now. Vince: Yep. Me: So the other thing I have to say at the start of the interviews… Vince: Oi where is the crack pipe bro? Ha ha. Me: …so the other thing I have to say at the start of the interviews is of course if you say anything that indicates you will harm yourself mandatory reporting means I might have to report that… Vince: We fucking know that shit. Me: …but otherwise everything is confidential. Andrew: We live in Families SA1 so we understand all that stuff. Me: Sweet man, I just have to say it for the recording. All right so… Vince: Bom bom bom, bow bow bow (Singing along to music playing in the background). Me: … what I have been doing with other people is I’ve got like a visual diagram and I’ve helped them map some of their experience over time… Vince: Hey bro give us the lighter. Needs a bit of… Me: …but that’s not really going to work for us today so we’ll just skip that. But what I am really interested in as well as your experiences in foster care and juvenile detention and any of those sort of systems… 1 South

Australia’s Child Protection Agency.

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8 Participatory Methods: The Violence of Adult Centricity Vince: It’s not lighting. Me: …is whether you think your experience has been fair or not? Vince: Is it lit? Mines not even lit bro so if yours is I wouldn’t even do that off mine. Andrew: Mmm hmm. Vince: Is it lit? Andrew: I’ll just light it in a second, just talk to…

There are many dynamics at play in this short extract. First, I am awkwardly trying to communicate something about the adult ethical requirements surrounding the interview, and the interview process. Vince rejects the need to state these adult concerns as they ‘fucking know that shit’. Arguably stating these concerns reinforces the experiences of stigmatisation and suffering in the child protection system, and young people as objects to be managed in the research process generally. This symbolic violence (Bourdieu, 2001, p. 33) is produced by the adult concerns in the research process and the compliance by the researcher to these concern. In this brief instance is a reflection of both Farrugia’s (2013) concern for the enactment of discourses that position young people as ‘moral failures’ (p. 114) and Allen’s (2009) dominating narrative of the ‘self-governing researcher’ (p. 339). The interaction is fleeting, but its impact on the research encounter, the young people’s lives and the subjectivity of the researcher is worthy of consideration. Over-inflating the impact of this moment and its importance potentially misrepresent the actual harm caused to the participants and centralises the adult. However, this minor moment serves to highlight the commonplace and potential regularity with which exclusive and violating discourses infiltrate research processes. It is not simply this one moment, but the combination of minor moments and their enactment of larger social structures that produce harm to young people’s lives. In this short interaction, Vince is focussing on lighting his cigarette and having fun at my expense. Andrew is likewise focussing on smoking and placating Vince, and less on my topic of conversation for my project. In spite of this, I argue that these young people are still participating. However, their participation is only one of several competing projects including smoking, joking around, and resisting symbolic violence. These projects are sufficiently close for them to continue to participate. However, these projects are also conflicting and placing the encounter and the relationship at risk. This risk is being managed by both the young people and the researcher. The interview could fail if the smokes won’t light, if there is too much symbolic violence, or if the researcher is too attached to the process. If this conflict between the divergent projects caused the interview to fail, then significant insights would have been missed. These two young people later discuss their experiences and resistance to physical violence from child protection workers. Their techniques became a significant finding of the research project, that would not have been discovered if the initial conflict had derailed the interview. The central point here is that conflict needs to be an acceptable feature and engaged as an opportunity if young people’s projects are to be taken seriously. To recognise this conflict the participant’s projects, or the potential for the participants to have projects even if they are

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not understood, need to be centralised and the adult needs to be decentralised. This decentralisation doesn’t guarantee that there won’t be any violence in the encounter, but it does make it more visible if it occurs.

8.5 Conclusion Young people have a range of projects that motivate their participation in qualitative research. Examining young people’s motivations and exclusion from participation in the research process highlights ethical issues and the potential for violence in qualitative research in general. To study young people as capable subjects rather than passive objects their projects within research need to be acknowledged, even if they are not anticipated or fully understood. Ethical research requires these projects to be understood as much as possible in a participant-centred way. To continue to pursue participant centred approaches, youth researchers must value the agentic revolutionary act of participants telling their story, their desire to develop, maintain and manage relationships on their terms, and the inevitable co-creation of each other’s worlds. Youth research struggles with the dual discourses of youth and under the legacy of bio-medical risk-averse ethics review processes. Young people are simultaneously considered to be vulnerable and in need of protection, as well as capable and active contributors. Ethics processes weigh on the paternalistic side of this equation and reduce the possibilities for pure participant-led research to near zero. However, it is possible to understand young people’s participation in research not simply as the result of adult projects, but as a result of separate and sometimes parallel projects. This approach upholds the emancipatory goals of youth research while affirming the adult’s responsibility to manage some of the risks of the encounter. It makes more visible the potential for symbolic violence as well as cultural violence and opens up the conversation to discover new means to counter this potential harm. It is important to recognise that young people engage in research for various reasons. Some of these reasons can be anticipated and understood, others less so. Recognising young people’s projects reveals issues in qualitative research methods including symbolic and epistemological violence, the infantilisation of the participant (and researcher) through adult-centric risk-averse ethics processes, as well as the structural and cultural violation of the human right to participate in decision-making processes. Furthermore, acknowledging young people’s projects position them as capable and active participants in the co-creation of knowledge. Young people have projects that motivate participation and they might be ‘keen as fuck’ to participate in research. Acknowledgements A version of this chapter was originally published elsewhere. I thank the publisher of the following for permission to reproduce copyright material:

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Lohmeyer, B. A. (2020). “Keen as Fuck”: Youth participation in qualitative research as ‘parallel projects’, Qualitative Research, 20(1), pp. 39-55. Copyright © 2020 SAGE. DOI:10.1177/1468794118816627

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Chapter 9

Starting with Young People’s Stories of Violence

I began this book by challenging the association between youth and violence. This is not a neutral purpose, but it begins with two assumptions. The first assumption is that young people are valuable, and second is that violence is negative and therefore the association between the two is worth challenging. I also stated at the outset that it is not my intention to argue that young people are never violent. Instead, I am interested in how they become violent, and how they resist becoming violent. I argue young people become violent by enacting and resisting the violent performativities available to them during youth. Never in history has violence been initiated by the oppressed. How could they be the initiators, if they themselves are the result of violence? How could they be the sponsors of something whose objective inauguration called forth their existence as oppressed? (Freire, 2005, p. 55)

In this book, I have argued against the idea that young people are inherently violent. In contrast to the prevailing assumption, like Freire, I argue young people cannot be the source of violence if they are born into pre-existing systems of violence. The conditions and apparatus of youth are not created by young people for young people. Youth is ‘called forth’ as a category of exclusion by the pre-existing objective systems of violence. To challenge the association between youth and violence and to explore how young people enact and resist violence I posed three questions. What forms of (subjective and objective) violence shape and constrain the contemporary experience of youth? How do young people come to enact violent performativities? How do young people resist violent performativities? Implicit in these questions is an assumption that violence forms the subject. Violence to young people, shapes the violence by young people. Drawing on Butler’s notion of performativities means that the subject is formed by forces both within and outside of the self. My approach contrasts the assumption within the dominant individual responsibility discourse of neoliberal rationales, which presupposes an inherent ‘fundamental violence’ (Wieviorka, 2005, p. 155) that exists within children and young people as the source of

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violent behaviour. Instead, I argue that young people simultaneously enact and resist the violent performativities made available to them through a system of interconnected subjective and objective violence that gives shape to the opportunities for action and identity. This approach has several effects. Firstly, it fundamentally challenges the popular association between young people and violence. Secondly, it promotes an approach to studying youth violence that examines how young people enact and resist violence. Thirdly, it calls into question the epistemologies and methodologies employed by youth and violence studies scholars and practitioners. Finally, this approach suggests a future direction for research, policy and practice regarding youth and violence. I presented arguments for each of the first three of the above four points in the chapters of this book. In this concluding chapter, I address the fourth point by briefly revisiting my main argument through a Freirean lens. McLaren and Tadeu Da Silva (1992) describe Freire’s emphasis on the practice of listening to young people’s stories, as they are the ‘guideposts to liberating praxis’ (p. 72). Narratives are a way of knowing the world and provide direction along a path which transforms ‘the burden of knowing into the revolutionary act of telling’ (McLaren & Tadeu Da Silva, 1992, p. 72). As such, the stories in this research have implications for professional practice, policy and future research. At the end of the chapter as a conclusion, I offer a retelling of Casey’s story that started this book in light of the framework of violent youthful performativities.

9.1 Challenging the Association Between Youth and Violence Despite contemporary scholarship, the conflation of youth and violence prevails (Kumsa, Ng, Chambon, Maiter, & Yan, 2013, p. 848; Sercombe, 2003, p. 26; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 52). This association rests on the hegemonic discourse of youth as transition (Kelly, 2011, p. 50; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 9). Youth is represented as a period of transitioning out of violence. Youth is the most intensely governed period of the life course (Kelly & Kamp, 2014, p. 7). This governing is justified by discourses of ‘at-risk’ youth (Te Riele, 2006, p. 103) who occupy a ‘wild zone’ (Kelly, 1999, p. 193; 2010, p. 303) that precedes adulthood. Youth is hence perceived as a period of risk, storm, struggle and violence. It is a place where society ‘increasingly hides its nightmares’(Giroux, 2014, p. 223). In dominant discourses, young people and violence are often synonymous (Kumsa et al., 2013, p. 849). Young people are supposedly accredited (Sercombe, 2010, p. 20) into adulthood and out of their violence. In this narrative of youth, young people are required to leave their violating non-human tendencies behind (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). Put simply, young people are known to be violent. Therefore, young people must be controlled and governed. Kelly draws from the cycle of governing and knowledge production described by governmentality studies to construct an alternative way of thinking about youth other than as a transition (Bacchi, 2009, p. 59; Kelly, 2010, p. 303; Wyn & Woodman,

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2007, p. 495). He argues youth is an ‘artefact of expertise’ (Kelly, 2010, p. 312). Youth is a product of the accumulating knowledge produced through and for the governance of young people. The primary purpose of this knowledge is to regulate the transition between youth and adulthood. This knowledge calls forth youth as a period of violence and young people as a group in need of governing. Hearn (2013) argues violence can similarly be conceived of as a ‘form of knowledge’ (p. 164). Violence generates knowledge about victims, the perpetrators and the society in which they exist (Bufacchi, 2005, p. 199; Hearn, 2013, p. 164). The popular discourses of youth violence produces knowledge about young people as either victims or perpetrators of violence. Similarly, youth is produced by the dual discourses of risk: first, young people are innocent and in need of protection, and second, young people are risky and in need of control (Wyn & White, 1997, p. 19). The knowledge of violence done to and by young people justifies the regulation of youth by the state. Wieviorka (2005) describes physical violence as the ‘product of failings on the part of adults who cannot offer the young people concerned adequate models with which they can identify’ (p. 156). This shifts, in part, the responsibility for violence to adults. However, it still locates as the source of violence a ‘universal anthropological characteristic’ that exists in young people that must be trained out. Wieviorka’s approach is intentionally limited to what Zizek (2008) describes as subjective violence, and as such has as its ‘starting point not violence but what produces it, namely a subjectivity’ (p. 149). Wieviorka begins with the agent as a means to explain violence as an act of passionate force. The solution, therefore, in contrast to Freire’s assertion, would seem to be to change the subject to prevent violence. In a not entirely dissimilar way, Bourdieu describes the cycle of ‘symbolic violence’ as ‘violence which is exercised upon a social agent with his or her complicit’ (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 167). Despite describing the operations of violence on the subject, it is Bourdieu’s stress on complicity that is similar to Wieviorka’s approach. There is an emphasis on the actors’ responsibility for violence. Certainly, for Bourdieu as for Wieviorka, there are other forces at play. Wieviorka points to adults as an option of violence prevention, and Bourdieu’s theory is built on the ‘obscurities of the schemata of habitus’ (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 172). As a result, symbolic violence is a product of ‘mis-cognition that lies beyond-or beneaththe controls of consciousness’ (emphasis in original) (p. 172). However, the suggestion of complicity and the identification of the subject as the source of violence are problematic for working with discreet cohorts who are victims of violence (Walby, Towers, & Francis, 2014). Furthermore, I argue, conflating violence with power obscures the unique operations of violence in its objective and systemic forms. As such this approach locates the origin of violence at least in part with the subjects of violence. I start my investigation of the violent performativities available to young people by listening to young people’s stories. I layer together contemporary youth studies approaches to understanding performativities (Farrugia, 2016; Henriksen & Bengtsson, 2018; Watson, 2018) with contemporary violence studies conceptualisations of violence (Galtung, 1969, 1990; Wieviorka, 2005, 2014; Zizek, 2008). This

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approach provides the framework to begin by examining the subjective and objective operations of violence as distinct from power that produce the violent performativities available to young people. This approach starts with violence and examines the violating effects on youth and young people. From this position, I have argued that the contemporary experience of youth is shaped by diverse forms of subjective and objective violence. Young people are confronted with increasing ‘physical, ideological, and structural violence’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 226) with gendered, class and political dimensions. Young people enact violence as they both consciously and unconsciously perform the subjective positions made available to them through the objective systems of violence. However, importantly, young people are also consciously and unconsciously resisting the available violent performativities by articulating creative but imperfect responses. Violence is in all directions. As a result, even in resisting violence, participants unintentionally enacted violence in other forms. The contrast between the popular assumptions about youth violence and my argument might most succinctly be summarised as follows. Contemporary society is generally believed to be relatively peaceful. Physical and other tangible forms of violence are unusual and an aberration of the general peace. Individuals sometimes use violence, but in general, violence is something that civilised people learn not to use. If these statements are true, then violence is simply something used by those who are not yet acceptable members of society, unless their physical violence is explicitly sanctioned by the state (e.g. the police). These assumptions about violence and society construct a situation in which people must transition from being violent to notviolent. However, the innocence of infancy defers individual responsibility for action. By necessity, therefore, a period between infancy and adulthood in constructed in which people are responsible for their actions (at least to a degree) and during which they must learn not to use violence. Violence, understood in these terms, requires or produces the period of youth. It constructs a period during which young people are excluded from adult rights and, to a lesser extent, the responsibility for their actions while they learn not to use violence. In contrast, I argue that contemporary society is not, in general, peaceful. Furthermore, the individual does not need to be understood as the source or instigator of violence. Instead, the individual is shaped by violence. Youth is not simply a period of violent and uncontrolled innocence transitioning into civilised adulthood. Rather, youth is a period of intense exposure to both subjective and objective violence. Youth is often characterised by physical violence to young people. The contaminating potential of young people’s riskiness serves as a justification to subject them to violence. Furthermore, young people are required to demonstrate their worthiness for support and human rights in a cruel total market. They are required to internalise their violent existence and conform to socially acceptable violent performativities. A period of youth is constructed by violence to justify the violation of young people to maintain the veneer of peacefulness in society. The collective unconscious nightmare of the objective violence deeply embedded in contemporary neoliberal society is hidden in youth.

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9.2 Young People Who Enact and Resist Violence To explore the questions I posed about youth violence, I listened to the stories of a cohort of young people who can be described as the youthful subjects of neoliberal violence. These, I argue, are young people who are uniquely exposed to ‘the merging of violence and government’ (Giroux, 2014, p. 226) under neoliberal regimes. As such their stories offer unique guideposts to examine the effects of violence in governing and shaping the contemporary phenomenon of youth. These young people are popularly associated with violent behaviour. In the case of young people in the child protection system, they are young people who are uncritically regarded as victims of violence. Young people in the juvenile justice system are typically understood as perpetrators of violence. Finally, young people involved in nonviolent political activism are generally assumed to represent a group who resist violence. Each group has an intensified relationship with governing agencies. They are connected and interact with governments in ways that exceed the typical experiences of young people. Despite their unifying characteristics, this group remains an unusual collection. Young people in child protection are overrepresented in juvenile justice. Youth activists routinely employ a strategy of incarceration to draw attention to their cause. Regardless of these similarities, these groups also have diverse experiences of the social, economic and political forces that construct youth. Furthermore, while youth is highly governed, it is not evenly governed. The diversity of the cohort is not intended to obscure their differences and conflate their experiences. Instead, this assortment offers nuance and varied perspectives on the things that they have in common: youth and violence. McLaren and Tadeu (1992) describe the importance of listening to young people’s experiences that are often overlooked. They argue stories can take the form of ‘magisterial tropes and master narratives of the empire, as well as narratives of refusal searching for coordinates outside of the binary oppositions that consolidate the Manichean universe of Eurocentric time and space and the phallomilitary dynamics of postmodern citizenry’(p. 72). Young people’s stories are a complex mix of enactment and resistance to the dominant narrative of violence. Investigating young people’s stories of violence will likely ‘lead us into the dark’ and require a level of ‘tolerance for not knowing all the answers’ (Kilby & Ray, 2014, p. 2). Attentive listening to these stories will likely require unusual methodological praxis, or perhaps ‘incoherence’, as ‘much of the world is enacted this way’ (Law 2004, 14). The assemblage of young people in this research brings a unique perspective to the questions underpinning this book. The assumed categories of participants who represent victims, perpetrators and resisters to violence are challenged by listening to their stories. Young people in child protection are victims of violence from parents, from workers in the child protection system and from the system itself. However they also experience violence from other young people in the system, and they articulate creative responses to manage, trivialise and resist violence. They are victims, perpetrators and resisters.

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The young people in the juvenile justice system have often enacted violence, but also receive and resist it from police and welfare services. Sometimes they come into contact with the justice system as a result of attempting to resist violence. In other cases, their knowledge and experience of governing systems inform creative violence prevention strategies. In addition to, and occasionally as a result of, participants’ experience with NVDA they become aware of their complicity with objective systems of violence. Often these participants attempt to minimise their collusion with systems of violence and actively pursue alternatives. However, violence appears to be in all directions and their lives are ‘like a violent existence’. These young people’s lives are shaped by violence, and they both enact and imperfectly resist the performativities available to them. The diversity of experience of this cohort of young people offers greater insight into the marginalised narratives of how the violence done to young people, shapes the violence done by young people. Their stories challenge the categories of victim and perpetrator, enactment and resistance, risky and capable young people. Instead, their stories were messy accounts of imperfect worlds where violence is an intimate interpersonal means to articulate creatives responses to wicked social problems. At the same time violence is a product of economic, social and political forces that permeate contemporary life making their lives like a violent existence. Violence is in all direction. Yet these young people continue the call bullshit on the invasion of social spheres by violating logics, and they continue to pursue radical democratic alternatives to the violation they grew up in.

9.3 Questioning Epistemologies and Methodologies 9.3.1 Implications for Future Research In Chaps. 7 and 8 I unpacked some of the implications of examining the violent performativities of youth for youth research. Centring young people’s stories orientates the research towards viable interpretations of the data that avoids positioning young people as inferior. This approach is informed by Teo’s (2010) description of the potential for epistemological violence in social science. This model doesn’t fit into a neat set of prescriptive subjective positions. Neither have I constructed a typology in which enactment and resistance are positioned at the opposing ends of a spectrum. Rather this approach reflects an ethical orientation towards young people as informed co-contributors in the investigation of the forms of violence that shape the contemporary experience of youth. Teo (2010) argues that this ‘is not about political correctness but about scientific correctness’ (p. 198). I argue, a scientifically and politically ethical orientation to the issue of violence in youth begins an optimistic orientation toward young people. However, there are many more potential challenges this approach raises that cannot be sufficiently explored in a single book.

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Many stories have been told through this book. However, through the act of making these stories present, others have been unavoidably made absent (Law, 2004, p. 83). Not all the stories told by the young people who I interviewed made their way into this book. The absence of these stories might be the standard practice of allegorical research. However, their absence is also a limitation of this study. This limitation sits as an ethical weight on those who collect the stories of young people and raises ethical issues. This project focused on the collection and presentation of young people’s stories as a method for the promotion of solidarity and critical thinking (Freire, 2014, p. 44). Stories can be a means of challenging dominant narratives in subtle ways that also allow for emotional distance from personal experience (Freire, 2014, p. 59). They are also central to the way people speak, play and write about themselves and others. They are the ‘social plots in which language, communication and the production of knowledge are constituted and reconstituted’ (Freire, 2009, p. 59). If stories are the vehicles of revolution, of creating new and hopeful conditions for critical thinking, then to fail to give these stories the fullest voice and expression feels like the oppression of their potential. Certainly, these concerns can be placated through appeals to the pragmatics of research and writing (i.e. what works). Furthermore, this unfulfilled obligation might be appeased by the potential to promote other stories through further publications and dissemination options. Perhaps this concern again points to the paradoxical nature of ethical research: it can, bizarrely, lead to unethical practices (Allen, 2009, p. 399). Despite all this, the obligation weighs heavily on this researcher. Perhaps identifying this issue (and others) here is a start. In addition to the weight of the stories excluded from this book, there is a question about the efficacy of those that have been included. A guiding principle within this project is the emancipation of young people. It is reasonable therefore to ask: did any young people benefit from this book? There are several responses to this question. The measurable benefit to the participants is questionable and a notable limitation of this project. In Chap. 8 I argued that young people participate in research for a range of reasons. Some of these reasons provide benefits immediately to participants; i.e. telling their story, maintaining a relationship, helping others and themselves, or (as in one case) attempting to sell drugs. I argued that these benefits are not adult-centric. However, they are also arguably the result of the agency of the participants. Hence future research on this topic might best seek to amplify the impact of the agency of the participants. The Freirean approach to hearing and telling young people’s stories as a revolutionary act (McLaren & Tadeu Da Silva, 1992, p. 72), and the ‘conscientisation’ (Freire, 2005, p. 67) method of engagement provide potential starting points for future approaches to amplify the impact of the agency of the participants. A dialogical process could seek to actively engage young people in the entire research project. This process would provide more opportunities for young people to critique modernity in their own terms and identify their own issues of concern. Future research in this area could seek to promote the struggle for justice and ‘create coherence between

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discourse and practice’ (Freire, 2009, p. 27) through complementing participatory methods and dialogue-based engagement with young people’s stories. Involving young people in participatory processes of collection and dissemination of their stories will co-create new opportunities to resist the dominant discourses of violence and speak new ways of being into existence. The diversity of the targeted cohort in this book has offered a nuanced insight into participants’ experiences of enacting and resisting violence. However, as I have already stated, this approach retains a certain amount of methodological vagueness. Law is confident that this is not a sign of failure. Rather, he argues that if social scientists are going to investigate the nature of messy realities, then they are going to have to ‘give up on simplicities’ and ‘teach ourselves to think, to practice, to relate, and to know in new ways’ (Law, 2004, p. 2). In spite of this, there may be value in adopting a targeted approach for future projects. The frameworks offered in this book facilitates future projects with a more indepth focus on young people’s experiences of neoliberal violence that would likely produce more detailed and nuanced insights. For example, a focus on young people just in child protection would produce new insights specifically into this groups’ experiences of enacting and resisting governing violence. Young people in child protection are likely to have experiences and stories that differ from those of activists, as they are governed in different ways. Such a focus may, or may not, reveal a more coherent and consistent understanding of neoliberal violence. Likewise, focusing just on the experiences of young people involved in political activism could provide a more detailed examination of their perspectives. This is not to suggest that a narrower perspective is inherently more valuable, or that it would necessarily be less contingent or messy. Certainly, narrower perspectives would need to be held in allegorical tension with other broader (likely different) perspectives. A more in-depth analysis of the perspective of a specific target group is likely to provide unique insights. Furthermore, this targeted approach could further fulfil the emancipatory aims of this project by propagating the perspectives of specific groups of marginalised young people. However, the framing of a more targeted group would require careful articulation to avoid the potential for epistemological violence. Hence targeting a more refined group, or specifically exploring experiences of neoliberal violence, are potential future directions.

9.3.2 Implications for Policy and Practice I argue that to understand youth violence it is useful to adopt a framework which distinguishes the operations of violence in subjective and objective forms from the operations of power. This approach reveals the objective systems of structural, cultural and symbolic violence that construct the contemporary experience of youth. This revelation has implications for those who practice with young people (e.g. youth workers, educators, social and community workers). This work, like youth research, is not politically neutral. Rather this work reproduces the assumptions on

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which it is based. The framework I have developed in this book offers the tools to reflexively examine the various social, economic and political contexts, professional assumptions and orientations underpinning youth work and expose the potential for subjective violation or complicity in objective violence. In Chap. 6, I argued that the infiltration of a whitewashed, pragmatic ‘what works’ (Wachtel, 2013, p. 26) philosophy into restorative practices, and social services in general, is in part a product of the deprofessionalisation and marketisation of the human service sector (Healy, 2009, p. 402; Seibel & Anheier, 1990, p. 8). As the welfare state contracts, services are increasingly outsourced and market forces begin to drive practice. These market forces often counter the ethical obligations at the heart of these professions. Youth work has a strong history of critical and participatory practices (Batsleer, 2008, p. 7; Beck & Purcell, 2010, p. 12; Martin, 2002, p. 94; Sercombe, 2010, p. 24; White & Wyn, 2011, p. 111; Wong, 2004, p. 15). The framework for examining subjective and objective violence provides an avenue to continue to resist the violating forces of marketisation on youth work. My argument regarding young people’s enactment and resistance to violence also has important implications for both ‘personal’ and ‘structural’ practice with young people (Wong, 2004). The recent South Australian Department of Education bullying prevention strategy outlined three factors that increased the likelihood of bullying in schools. They were Individual Factors (e.g. gender, religion, culture, physical appearance), Social Dynamics (e.g. family conflict, peer relationships, trauma), and Social and Cultural Factors. Social and cultural factors underpin how people in a community or society see themselves and interact with other people. This can include media content through movies, television, newspapers and the internet. It includes factors such as the social and cultural histories that shape a society’s institutions and systems. While research in this area is still emerging, there is evidence that social and cultural factors can influence children’s experiences of bullying. (Department for Education, 2019, p. 12)

There are meaningful differences between violence and bullying, such as the repetitive nature of bullying (Department for Education, 2019, p. 7). However, the definition of bullying adopted by the SA Department of Education emphasises ‘behaviour that intends to cause physical, social and/or psychological harm’ (Department for Education, 2019, p. 7). There is significant overlap between bullying and the understanding of violence in this book. The SA Department of Education bullying prevention strategy describes the social and cultural factors of bullying as the least well understood. The approach to understanding and preventing the harm of bullying in the strategy is reflective of the dominant approach to violence in that it is largely informed by psychological and behaviouralist frames of reference. Understanding youth and violence as the enactment and resistance to violent performativities provides a new angle to examine the ‘social and cultural’ factors of bullying and violence in schools and neighbourhoods. This approach requires further research and the articulation of these findings into applicable practice frameworks that focus on challenging the objective violence within school systems, communities and societies.

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9.4 Casey’s Story To conclude, I offer a retelling of Casey’s story that opened this book through the lens of the violent performativities of youth. Seventeen-year-old Casey is accustomed to the adult responsibilities of living alone. He lives alone because his life, up to this point, has been characterised by violence. He is a victim, a perpetrator and a resister to violence of the emotional, psychological and physical kinds. Interventions in his life have been designed to prevent vehement forms of violence that have a clear subject-object relationship. However, being thrust into the care of unaccountable bureaucracies and hollowedout social services has spawned new objective experiences of violation. Casey is illequipped to penetrate these bureaucracies and the maze of accountability resulting in a ‘rule of nobody’ (Arendt, 1972, p. 137). Drawing on the available resources, Casey finds it effective to fight with his body to change his reality. Casey is subjected to a diverse array of governing knowledge and programs. Knowledge about him is compiled and stockpiled. Overfull manila folders keep the judge’s gavel company as grey-haired people pronounce their wisdom. Casey is ‘engaged’ in a plethora of programs, the things that are wrong with him are ‘explained’, and future ‘expectations’ are made clear. His participation in the decision-making process in a meaningful way is minimised. This minimal participation is necessary to maintain market efficiency. The justice prescribed by this system makes little sense in Casey’s world. It fails to engage a range of contingencies and complexities that are part of his everyday wicked reality. In the middle of the night, violence invades Casey’s home. In an imperfect act of resistance, he confronts the invaders, again fighting with his body. He resists their violation of his safety and seclusion. The violators are enacting a crime associated with the ‘loop of poverty’ where those without money ‘just take off the one above’. But Casey doesn’t have much, so they beat him up and take what they can. Casey’s youth worker visits the morning after the incident in his home. The worker tries to initiate a conversation about Casey’s experience and response. But the words fly past Casey with little meaning. The structural and cultural conditions of the conversation do not promote the possibility for democratic dialogue. The symbolic meaning and (mis)cognition within the conversation prevents liberating communication. In contrast to the strain of years of experience, this one conversation fails to provide any viable alternative to violence and create real change to Casey’s world. Refusing to embody the subjective position of a victim, Casey draws on the resources available to him and sets about resisting the experience of violation. He enacts the available violating youthful performativity and in doing so reconstructs the discourses of violence that produce the accessible opportunities for action and identity. He is a young, white, poor, angry, able-bodied male, and he is ‘going hunting’.

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Appendix

Participants, Recruitment and Interview Methods

The stories in this book were gathered through semi-structured interviews lasting roughly an hour with 28 young people in Australia aged between 15 and 25 years. Participants have been given pseudonyms to protect their anonymity. During the interviews, I invited participants to reflect on their experiences of violence and interaction with the government agencies and services. The content and structure of the interviews, as well as the recruitment process, was approved by the Social and Behavioural Research Ethics Committee at Flinders University in South Australia (approval number 6655). Interviews took place in a location that was convenient and comfortable for each young person. Once a young person had agreed to participate, I negotiated an appropriate place to conduct the interview. This process of negotiation often resulted in meeting the young person at their home, a local library, park or youth service (Table A.1). All participants within juvenile justice and child protection categories were referred to the project through non-government youth services. I have not disclosed the names of these organisations to preserve the participants’ anonymity. All of these participants were from South Australia. Most of the participants in the political activism category were recruited through attendance at a peace convergence. Attendees at this event were from across Australia including South Australia, New South Wales, Queensland and Victoria. A small number in this category were recruited through snowballing techniques in South Australia (Table A.2).

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 B. A. Lohmeyer, Youth and Violent Performativities, Perspectives on Children and Young People 11, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-5542-8

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176

Appendix: Participants, Recruitment and Interview Methods

Table A.1 Participant demographics Name

Gender

Age

Inclusion criteria

Recruitment

Mia

Female

17

Juvenile justice

NGO referral

Charlie

Female

18

Juvenile justice

NGO referral

Addison

Female

19

Juvenile justice

NGO referral

Chloe

Female

20

Juvenile justice

NGO referral

Nathan

Male

16

Juvenile justice

NGO referral

Ryan

Male

18

Juvenile justice

NGO referral

Owen

Male

19

Juvenile justice

NGO referral

Nora

Female

18

Juvenile justice; Child protection

NGO referral

Tristan

Male

22

Juvenile justice; Child protection

NGO referral

Lucas

Male

21

Juvenile justice; Child protection

NGO referral

Lilly

Female

16

Child protection

NGO referral

Riley

Female

19

Child protection

NGO referral

Kennedy

Female

22

Child protection

NGO referral

Jackson

Male

15

Child Protection

NGO referral

Thomas

Male

16

Child Protection

NGO referral

William

Male

16

Child protection

NGO referral

Levi

Male

17

Child protection

NGO referral

Cameron

Male

18

Child protection

NGO referral

Hailey

Female

21

Political activism

Peace convergence

Eva

Female

21

Political activism

Peace convergence

Scarlett

Female

22

Political activism

Peace convergence

Anna

Female

22

Political activism

Peace convergence

Harper

Female

24

Political activism

Snowballing

Aaron

Male

18

Political activism

Peace convergence

Jacob

Male

22

Political activism

Snowballing

Logan

Male

23

Political activism

Peace convergence

John

Male

24

Political activism

Peace convergence

Dave

Male

25

Political activism

Snowballing

Appendix: Participants, Recruitment and Interview Methods Table A.2 Participant summary

Demographics

177 Participant no.

Male

15

Female

13

Child protection

11

Juvenile justice

10

Activism

10

NGO referral

18

Peace convergence

7

Snowballing

3

Total participants

28