The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence in an Urban Community

1174 Social Forces

The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence in an Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 Urban Community

Jon Gordon, New York University ...... ost scholarship on violence in urban communities accepts the Weberian association between legitimate violence and the state. Under this assump- Mtion, extrajudicial violence is interpreted as a symptom of legal cynicism, which is fomented by a negligent or illegitimate state apparatus. How, then, do we explain communities in which extrajudicial violence and legal authority are seen as legitimate simultaneously? Drawing on ethnographic observations of interactions among an armed group, residents, and police ofﬁcials in a poor zone of Medellín, Colombia, I found that residents routinely appealed to the armed group and police to supply security and redress grievances. This indicates that structurally induced problems of police corruption and legal cynicism cannot fully explain the patterns of enduring violence I observed. Residents and police situationally endorsed and authorized violence specialists and extrajudicial punishments as legitimate elements of the local security system. In doing so, community members played a key role in constructing violence as an acceptable practice for enhancing security and placating locals who had been assaulted. This study augments the state-centric literature on urban violence with social psychological theories of legitimation. It leverages rare in situ data on violence to advance an interactional, meaning-based perspective on a longstanding problem in poor urban communities......

As Bruno, Chico, and Simón wrapped up day patrol, a resident shouted, claiming that a man carried her groceries home, seized her purse, and ﬂed toward the bakery. Bruno and Simón dashed in pursuit, as the resident described her attacker to Chico. Chico initiated a series of text messages and calls. Within the hour, seven men returned with the resident’s effects and a man who she identiﬁed as the assailant. The men guided the assailant to the creek parting the zone’s center. After sunset and amidst foliage, Bruno and Simón beat the assailant. Chico punctured his cheek with a knife. Lalato drove him to a hospital. (Fieldnotes 2015, Medellín, Colombia)

...... I am grateful to Colin Jerolmack for his unwavering support. I also thank Gianpaolo Baiocchi, Edward Crowley, John Halushka, Lynne Haney, Ruth Horowitz, Mary Beth Hunzaker, William Kelly, Jerome Marston, Robert Riggs, Patrick Sharkey, Iddo Tavory, Gerard Torrats-Espinosa, David Trouille, and the anonymous reviewers for developing this paper. Direct Correspondence to Jon Gordon, 295 Lafayette St, 4th Floor, New York, NY 10012, USA; email: [email protected] ......

© The Author(s) 2019. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the University of Social Forces 98(3) 1174–1195, March 2020 North Carolina at Chapel Hill. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: journals. doi: 10.1093/sf/soz015 [email protected]. Advance Access publication on 18 March 2019 The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1175

The violence that these men used to punish people who assaulted residents in a

zone of Medellín, Colombia was legally unsanctioned. All of the men who Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 engaged in such vigilante surveillance and punishment and who I followed from 2012 to 2018 were former operatives of a paramilitary-drug cartel coalition. They now used their violence proficiency and patrols to deter assailants who preyed on local residents. Most scholarship on violence in urban communities still accepts the Weberian association between legitimate violence and the state. Under this assumption, extrajudicial violence of the sort that I observed would be explained as a product of negligent state institutions (Anderson 1999), police corruption (Auyero and Berti 2015), and legal cynicism—that is, distrust of legal authority (Kirk and Papachristos 2011). Some scholars suggest that extrajudicial punishment is inex- tricably linked to an illegitimate state apparatus (Vilas 2007). However, my ethnographic observations of everyday life in the zone indicated that residents saw the men not as outlaws who supplanted police officials, but as violence specialists who augmented police. In the eyes of many locals, the men’s use of violence protected against assaults, satisfied a desire for retribution, and was legitimate, meaning accepted as the way security was or should be done (Zelditch 2006). Residents facilitated—not merely tolerated—the men’s security operation. However, if residents who had been harmed felt that the men did not adequately redress their grievances, they readily called Colombian National Police officials (hereafter, Police). Police reacted to such calls by occupying the zone, which obviated the men’s role. Once displays of Police might waned, residents resumed supporting the men. The fact that residents routinely appealed to both the men and Police to supply security and redress grievances suggests that structurally induced problems of police corruption and legal cynicism cannot fully explain the patterns of enduring violence I observed. A few scholars have insinuated that extrajudicial violence can be perceived as a legitimate complement to, rather than a replacement for, legal recourse (see Garland 2005). Building on Garland (2005), I consider extrajudicial violence according to social psychological theories of legitimation. The concepts of endorsement and authorization, in particular, clarify how and why practices (in this case, extrajudicial violence) that are accepted in specific structural conditions endure despite structural shifts (Walker 2004). On the ground, actors’ (e.g., the armed men’s) peers (e.g., residents) are said to endorse their practices not merely by the absence of protest, but through interactional displays that actively support or negatively sanction noncompliance with their practices (Walker 2014). Actors’ superiors (e.g., Police), in turn, authorize their practices through similar interactional displays. My analysis suggests that patterns of violence may endure in communities, in part, because residents and police officials situationally endorse and authorize violence specialists and extrajudicial punishments as legitimate elements of a local security system. In doing so, community members may play a key role in constructing violence as an acceptable practice for enhancing security and placating locals who have been assaulted. This article has two main objectives. First, I illustrate endorsement and authorization of the men’s role and practices in order to demonstrate how 1176 Social Forces

extrajudicial violence and legal authority can be viewed as legitimate simulta-

neously. Second, I demonstrate how social psychological theories of legitimation Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 —which to my knowledge, have never been applied to the study of violence— help explain the ways in which interactional dynamics and meaning-making perpetuate violence. To start, I review structural accounts of urban violence. I then describe Garland’s (2005) analogous case of lynching in the postbellum South, before turning to a discussion of social psychological concepts that specify the mechanisms of legitimation of extrajudicial violence. After detailing my research method and setting, I present ethnographic data on patterns of interaction that endorsed and authorized extrajudicial punishment. To conclude, I discuss the signiﬁcance of my ﬁndings for scholarship on violence and legitimacy. This study augments the state-centric literature on urban violence with social psychological theories of legitimation. It leverages rare in situ data on violence to advance an interactional, meaning-based perspective on a longstanding problem in poor urban communities.

Urban Violence and the State Most scholars associate violence at the urban margins with negligent, neoliberal, or corrupt state institutions (Auyero, Lara, and Berti 2014). In poor areas, distrust of legal authority—legal cynicism (Kirk and Papachristos 2011)—induces self-help, meaning that people may resort to violence to settle disputes (Vargas 2016; Venkatesh 2002), intimidate potential aggressors (Anderson 1999; Jankowski 1991), and execute economic transactions (Contreras 2012; Gambetta 1993). The state’s ostensible failure to protect its most marginalized citizens creates a sense of ambiguous authority (Goldstein 2012), “governance voids” (Kruijt and Koonings 1999, 12), and space for illegal armed groups to thrive (Jimeno 2001). Studies show that illegal armed groups—especially in the Global South—exploit the state’s absence (Imbusch, Misse, and Carrión 2011). In some accounts, armed groups coerce residents to pay for services (e.g., protection) that would otherwise fall under the state’s purview (Garay et al. 2008; Rodgers 2006). In some contexts, armed groups endure as para-states that co-exist with weak nation-states (Leeds 1996). Other scholars suggest that, rather than weakness, it is the “neoliberal logic” of state institutions that generates violence (Davis 2009, 226). Davis (2009) proposes that military and police officials effectively delegate security duties to armed civilians, who in turn police imagined communities. Willis (2015), for instance, finds that criminal organizations use threats and targeted homicides to maintain order in areas of Sao Paulo. State security officials, in turn, enable criminal organizations illegal and violent activities. Such “symbiosis” institutio- nalizes violence as a mode of poverty governance (Willis 2015). Some ethnographic studies focus on the ways in which corruption perpetuates violence. Arias (2006) shows, for example, that drug traffickers coerce favela residents to vote for certain politicians in Rio de Janeiro. As nodes in political networks, traffickers leverage state power and use violence to further their interests. Auyero and Lara (2012) demonstrate how corrupt police exacerbate violence and The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1177 insecurity in a villa of Buenos Aires; police abuse residents with violence that

“concatenates” with criminal, sexual, and domestic violence, ensnaring residents Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 in “violences in chain” (p. 538). Most accounts of how poor people justify violence spotlight negligent state institutions. For instance, politicians and medical professionals in Brazil sat on their hands while mothers starved struggling infants to conserve resources for stronger children (Scheper-Hughes 1993). Black youth in Philadelphia, whose hopes to lead dignified lives were diminished by state processes of urban divest- ment, reimagined violence as a currency for respect (Anderson 1999). Latino men in East Harlem, who felt emasculated and excluded economically and socially, wielded domestic and sexual violence to subjugate women (Bourgois 2003). And parents in Buenos Aires beat children as an ethic of protection, disciplining them to avoid danger (Auyero and Kilanski 2015). Analyses depict people using violence to gain a sense of control amid the chaos of urban margin- ality (Scheper-Hughes 2015). Taken together, scholars interpret extrajudicial violence in poor urban communities as a replacement for failed state mechanisms that might otherwise promote pro-civic action and protect citizens. This perspective implicates the Weberian state’s (1978 [1922]) failed monopoly on legitimate violence. In other words, the appeal of extrajudicial violence results primarily from state officials’ failure to perform expected roles (Godoy 2004). Indeed, corrupt police may drive people to incorporate violence into repertoires of action (Auyero and Berti 2015). However, studies show that the frequency of violence varies tremen- dously across poor urban areas that have been exposed to similar state policies and practices (Sharkey 2018). Few empirical studies have moved beyond the structural dimensions of violence. Left unanswered are the questions: What fac- tors besides state practices perpetuate violence? Is the delegitimation of state institutions a necessary precursor to the legitimation of extrajudicial violence? If not, how and why might extrajudicial violence and legal authority be seen as legitimate simultaneously?1 Garland’s (2005) analysis of extrajudicial lynching is one of the only studies that offers insight into these questions. In the postbellum South, hundreds of Black people who had been convicted of crimes and sentenced to death were released from official custody and lynched in public. Common white people and officials attended these extrajudicial lynchings as if they were ordinary social gatherings. They often posed with Black corpses for photos and mailed them as postcards. Such nonchalant behavior of otherwise law-abiding citizens conveyed that they saw extrajudicial lynching as legitimate (p. 795). Notably, this did not imply that legal executions or executioners were illegitimate. Garland demonstrates that extrajudicial lynching was a “preferred alternative” to, rather than a zero-sum replacement for, legal recourse. It endured based on its meanings for the racial order (p. 798). By torturing Black bodies and depriving Black communities of recently won legal rights, Southern whites reasserted their racial dominance and solidarity in an uncertain post-slavery milieu (pp. 820–824). Though it was not Garland’s primary objective, his observations challenge predominant views that the legitimation of extrajudicial violence exposes the 1178 Social Forces

illegitimacy of the state. In the context of urban violence, few scholars examine

how local interaction and meaning-making convey legitimacy; most assume that Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 legitimate violence is contingent on the presence of a legitimate state. To specify the mechanisms of legitimation sketched out by Garland, and to explain the interactional patterns of violence I observed, I emphasize two concepts from the social psychological literature on legitimation: endorsement and authorization.

Social Psychological Conceptions of Legitimation Legitimate means accepted as the way things are or should be (Zelditch 2006, 324). Legitimation refers to the process by which something becomes acceptable within a given social structure or remains acceptable even as that structure changes (Zelditch 2001). Because scholars tend to interpret extrajudicial violence as a product of a negligent state apparatus, I focus on the interactional dynamics of legitimation that can explain how and why extrajudicial violence may remain acceptable amid structural shifts. Although endorsement and authorization are not independent of structure, the concepts clarify how legitimacy is situationally produced and reproduced. As implied by Weber’s (1978 [1922]) theory that legitimate authority (valid order) creates a model of proper action or a sense of duty, acceptance occurs at individual and group levels. Multiple- object, multiple source theories thus specify two distinct dimensions of legitimacy: propriety, which refers to personal approval, and validity, which refers to a social duty to accept regardless of whether one approves personally (Dornbusch and Scott 1975). Group members who disapprove of something may accept it if they recognize its logic for group interests (Zelditch 2006). This suggests that legitimacy operates, in part, through shared beliefs. Nevertheless, legitimation is not principally a matter of belief; it is a set of social actions (Beetham 1991). The legitimation of a practice occurs through interactional displays that actively support or negatively sanction noncompliance with the practice and the norms to which it appeals (Walker 2014). Such actions endorse an actor’s practice if displayed by subordinates or peers, and authorize it if displayed by superiors (Dornbusch and Scott 1975). Zelditch (2006) proposes, for example, that non-smoking in restaurants is a practice that is endorsed by smokers who disapprove but comply, endorsed by patrons or ser- vers who expel smokers or call police, and authorized by police who issue fines to smokers and noncompliant restaurants. A sense of duty to accept is not solely derived from law. Zelditch and Walker (2003) posit that legitimation extends to any practice that appeals to widely accepted norms and values, universal interests, objective facts, and previously accepted practices. Garland’s (2005) case suggests that white people endorsed and authorized extrajudicial lynching because it appealed to punishing (Black) criminals, mitigating whites’ anxieties about freed “slaves,” and reasserting the racial order by torturing Black people as if they were still slaves.2 Legitimation can thus be conceptualized as an interactional process in which the meaning of a practice is reasserted situationally through endorsement and authorization. The motives for legitimation may be instrumental (survival) or expressive (emotional The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1179 gratification). For example, United States citizens perceived that the invasion of fi Afghanistan was instrumental for ghting terrorism, but also expressed retribu- Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 tion for the attacks on September 11, 2001 (Zelditch and Walker 2003). Social psychological conceptions of legitimation have not traveled to subfields beyond formal organizations, status hierarchies, and procedural justice (Johnson, Dowd, and Ridgeway 2006)andhaveonlybeenexaminedinexperiments,surveys, and vignette studies (Hegtvedt and Johnson 2000; Sunshine and Tyler 2003). To my knowledge, this study is the first ethnographic examination of how endorsement and authorization work on the ground in the context of violence. While my findings do not contradict state-centric theories of violence, they add a new dimension by show- ing how: (1) legitimation plays a role in perpetuating extrajudicial violence; and (2) vigilantes and police can be seen as legitimate protectors simultaneously (see Tilly 1985).

Research Method As a white, non-Hispanic man from the United States, I was an outsider in the zone. Yet I arrived with linguistic and cultural ﬂuency in Colombian Spanish and a wealth of social capital from years of living in Medellín. I had come to know locals who had rapport with armed groups; in 2012, a respected community leader invited me to lunch with Yony, Tavo, and Camilo—leaders of the armed group I followed. The respected community leader vouched for my promise to maintain anonymity and convinced them to let me “hang out.”3 Though this introduction allowed me to move freely about the zone, it did not eliminate suspicions among some that I worked for the United States Drug Enforcement Agency. I built rapport in this hyper-masculine space through performances of masculinity like wrestling and weight-lifting. My data collection followed an IRB approved protocol and involved nine research trips between 2012 and 2018. This analysis draws on a total of 45 months of participant observation in the zone. After eight months’ living in the zone in 2012, I split my time between Medellín and the United States, returning for 3–5 months at a time.4 During 2016–2017, I lived in Medellín for 12 months. Revisiting the zone over the course of seven years helped clarify what changed and what remained constant (Black 2009; Smith 2006). I shadowed the men inside and outside of the zone (Trouille and Tavory 2016). I observed the leaders as they made decisions. In the end, I followed the men on more than 200 patrols, into their homes, and among their family and friends. I learned about the armed group’s hierarchy, how the men saw loyalty as a matter of survival, and how they interacted with residents. I observed residents seek out the men to resolve disputes, report assaults, and share concerns. I took note of how the men addressed residents’ concerns and how Police interacted with community members. I was present for 11 instances in which Police occupied the zone after tragically violent crimes or calls from residents. I jotted notes in real time on a smart phone, which was less intrusive than a notepad because locals used smart phones. In private, I expanded jottings into ﬁeldnotes. This analysis draws on countless informal conversations, life history interviews 1180 Social Forces

with 26 men and 17 residents, and notes from stories that more than 100 other

locals shared. Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 While my association with the men likely shaped my relationships with local residents, over the course of 45 months I had ample opportunities to hang out with residents in the absence of the men. They invited me to their homes and out of the zone to restaurants, stores, hospitals, parks, farms, banks, churches, and notaries. Rapport I built with people who had experienced violence in the past motivated me to document violence they experienced during my ﬁeldwork. As an instance of what Jauregui (2013) calls “Dirty Anthropology,” my ﬁeldwork posed an ethical dilemma: As an eyewitness to violent crime, I was, arguably, obligated to report it to Police; yet as a researcher, my responsibility was to protect the men and residents and document their experiences (also see Contreras 2019). Although I was at times uncomfortable with the notion that I was com- plicit, I observed violence that would have occurred regardless of my presence. I never used words or actions that would indicate my approval of violence. It was —and it is—my hope that this research will inform policies that promote peace- ful solutions to the problem of insecurity and that are sensitive to local contexts. In ways that distant methods like surveys or interviews could not (Jerolmack and Khan 2014), my ethnographic approach captured violence as it was experienced and understood in everyday life and over time. I open-coded my set of observational and interview data in ongoing conversa- tion with a range of literatures, including urban ethnography, state theory, and social psychology. Based on axial coding (Tavory and Timmermans 2014), I found patterns in victims, perpetrators, audiences, and Police actions. I theorized this data over time and according to how locals distinguished the men’s violence from gang violence, domestic violence, and crime. I honed my conclusions by comparing the interactional sequences that facilitated violence to surprising si- tuations in which I expected but did not observe violence.

Empirical Setting and the Case of Violence Specialists My analysis here focuses on a subset of data that is representative of a larger da- taset. I most closely observed 44 men of the nearly 80 participants in the armed group (see Table 1). Like many residents, most of the men were poor. Yet they displayed violence proficiency that the other poor people in the zone did not. This suggested that poverty could not entirely account for the men’s violence (Katz and Jackson-Jacobs 2004). Instead, I triangulated observational data with the men’s life histories and identified biographical details that spoke to why they participated in an armed group, patrolled the zone, protected locals, and resembled violent elite—that is, those who overcome confrontational tension and fear quickly and use violence efficiently (Collins 2009). Many men who came of age in the 1990s, during the apex of drug cartel violence and paramilitary violence in Medellín, had been soldiers in Colombia’s military and/or operatives of paramilitary groups (see Civico 2016; Hylton 2006). Paramilitaries were known to recruit from Colombia’s army, use military intelligence to locate rebel FARC and ELN armies, and massacre rural The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1181

Table 1. Study Participant Sample Demographics, 44 Violence Specialists

Number Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 Sample characteristics N = 44 Percent

Age 18–24 9 21 25–29 11 25 30–34 5 11 35–40 12 27 41 and older 7 16 Education—grade completion 0–6 5 11 7–10 20 45 11/high school graduate 19 44 Part time formal employment Yes 18 41 No 26 59 Married or living with domestic partner Yes 23 52 No 21 48 Number of children 0 17 39 1–2 26 59 3–400 5 or more 1 2 Military/paramilitary service Yes 31 71 No 13 29 communities (Romero 2003).5 When counterinsurgency efforts urbanized in Medellín in the early 2000s, most of the men in my sample who were over age 30 when I began fieldwork had survived rural battles and returned to the zone only to be recruited by paramilitaries and recycled into urban conflict. Paramilitaries also recruited gangs that were affiliated with Medellín’s drug cartel so as to expel insurgent militias from poor areas (Rozema 2008). Most of the men in my sample who were younger than 30 when I began fieldwork joined paramilitaries for monthly-salaries and ended up with combat experience. When an alliance of paramilitary groups, drug cartel factions, and gangs expelled insurgents from Medellín, violence declined in the city (Maher and Thomson 2011). The men subdued their rivals in the zone and co-constructed 1182 Social Forces

with residents a sense of security. These efforts to reimagine the men’s involve-

ment in paramilitary violence were contested in 2005 after Colombia’s legisla- Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 ture passed the Justice and Peace Law (Theidon 2007). The incentives for paramilitary demobilization resembled the recent accord between Colombia’s government and FARC rebels (Anderson 2017), but the law further criminalized paramilitaries who operated previously with tacit state authorization. On the ground, the law created few viable alternatives for such violence specialists (Meertens 2010). The men demobilized but could not support their families. Rather than searching for low-wage jobs, the men relied on their violence proficiency. They remobilized as community protectors and, with local support, im- plemented practices that many local residents thought enhanced their sense of security and redressed their grievances. Official statistics suggest that violent crime was a real threat in Medellín. Nearly 50 percent of Medellín’s residents reported feeling insecure in 2015 (Medellín Cómo Vamos 2015). That same year, the zone had more than 100,000 residents (most of whom were lower-working class),5 a homicide rate of nearly 50 per 100,000 people, and a robbery rate of nearly 700 per 100,000 people (Annuario Estadistica de Medellín 2015). Such statistics seem to indicate that violent crime was more pervasive in the early 1990s in Medellín, and that the zone saw less violent crime in 2015 than Medellín’s and Chicago’s most violent areas in 2015.6 My observations suggest that violent crimes in the zone were underreported. Moreover, even official violent crime rates in the zone were higher than those in the safest zone of Medellín and the median violent crime rate in Chicago. It is unclear whether the men limited violent crime, but an official survey shows that nearly 90 percent of the zone’s residents felt very or relatively secure in the zone and that nearly 30 percent of residents reported that the armed men supplied security (Eslava et al. 2015, 54–58). It is plausible that some—if not many—residents who supported the men felt uncomfortable saying so to an official survey enumerator. Though nearly 60 percent of the zone’s residents reported they would appeal to legal authorities to solve problems (Eslava et al. 2015, 80), residents in my study suggested that the men enhanced security in ways that Police could not.

The Role of Violence Specialists in the Security System Every hour of every day, the men patrolled the interior and perimeter of the zone. Patrols were loosely organized into shifts with often more than 20 men walking their sectors in groups of two or three and at least another three men on motorcycles. At least one man per group carried a pistol and others had knives, despite the risks of being stopped and searched by Police. The men always watched Police closely, stashing their weapons before encounters. This habit suggested a regular Police presence that contrasts with the narrative of police negligence in poor urban areas (cf. Anderson 1999). Patrolmen communicated on cell phones and stopped at lookout points located near key routes into and out of the zone, pausing to monitor passersby The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1183 and to hang out with residents. By socializing in public space, the men integrated

patrols into the social fabric of everyday life, signaled their purpose, and per- Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 formed their role. While talking to locals, the men maintained vigilant postures and gazed into the street as if anticipating danger. To accentuate their presence, they paired up every few hours, revving the engines of up to 12 motorcycles that they rode through the zone. Locals described this ritual as “de rose (cruising).” As official statistics show, neither the men nor Police were able to prevent all assaults. Seemingly aware of this, more than 100 residents told me their greatest fear was street robbery.8 During 45 months, I observed residents report 62 inci- dents that occurred in the zone to the men: 53 robberies (85 percent), of which 37 victims were women or children (70 percent); 6 acts of domestic violence perpetrated against women (10 percent); and 3 thefts perpetrated by residents (5 percent). I was aware that my data were biased toward street violence (Hume and Wilding 2015). Most of these events were not reported to Police or counted in official statistics. My data suggest that robbery was a genuine concern and that, from the perspective of residents, the men limited robberies in the zone. When asked about how locals saw the men, one resident said, “It would be complicated if [the men] weren’t around… They protected us from guerrillas, militias, and delinquents.” Not one of 400 locals with whom I spoke contra- dicted this view. Most locals addressed the men as the “boys (muchachos)” or “security guards (celadores).” When I asked residents to describe the men, many referred to them as “the original guardians (los propios del barrio)” or “community helpers (los que ayudan a la comunidad).” Moreover, as mentioned above, nearly 30 percent of the zone’s residents officially reported that the men provided security (Eslava et al. 2015). Such widespread views suggest that the men’s practices and role were legitimate, in part, because they appealed to crime con- tral and a sense of security that the men had contributed to in the past. Locals who reported assaults immediately to the men expedited a “reaction plan (plan de reacción).” Victims or witnesses described assailants or stolen items to the men, who then sent text messages and made calls to activate a reaction. Up to 80 men were notified, and most ran to predetermined sectors near their homes in the zone. Minutes after reports, the men occupied the zone’s exits and interrogated people fitting the assailant’s description. Though residents could opt for Police, and many did, they recognized that the men reacted swiftly and worked in areas with which they were intimately familiar. Some residents described the men as, “Ninjas that come out flying (salen volando),” illustrating how the men enhanced their sense of security. Failing to apprehend assailants and placate residents created pressures and occasional mistakes among the men. During one reaction, Diablo and Cacao apprehended a man hiding by the creek. He claimed that he was Gino’s friend and had fled Police after an unrelated incident in another zone. Diablo broke the man’s arm as he restrained him, but Gino later vouched for him. Acknowledging his mistake, Diablo paid for the man’s medical services. Of the 53 robberies that I observed residents report, the men apprehended and confirmed the identities of 46 assailants (87 percent). 1184 Social Forces

After apprehending assailants, the men punished them, usually in secluded

areas in the zone. Stories of armed groups that beat or kill those who disrupt Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 order circulate through Medellín (see Gutiérrez Sanín and Jaramillo 2004). In line with these accounts, the men I followed typically beat and mutilated assailants that they apprehended in the zone. I observed the men refuse to react to more than 30 assaults that occurred outside of the zone. The men punished assailants based on whether they were strangers and on how the assaults had unfolded. Tavo claimed, “if a stranger (un tipo raro) uses a weapon, we execute him… otherwise, fists and knives.” My findings suggest that Tavo’s account was partially bluster: the men knew that executions ran counter to their interest in avoiding unwanted Police attention. One night, as Diablo, Simón, and Lucas patrolled, they saw a man brandish- ing a knife and grabbing the bag of a resident, Celia (age 33). Lucas sprinted toward the assailant, drew a pistol, and ordered him to drop the knife. The assailant complied. The men tied him to a tree by the creek and beat him. Lucas then severed his ear with a knife. After the men guided him to Lalato’s car, Lucas handed him his severed ear, and Loco gave him a towel. Yony said, “Go to the hospital, they’ll fix you… Show troublemakers that trouble finds them here… Return, you disappear.” Rather than killing the assailant, the men forced him to embody their punishment. Yony’s order to “show others” conveyed hopes that punishments deterred would-be assailants.

Resident Endorsement of Extrajudicial Violence While the men administered this punishment, the rope that held the assailant to the tree and the towel for his wound were supplied by residents. Like these residents, others actively supported extrajudicial violence by arriving with snacks for the men and watching punishments. After Conrado heard that Damien and Gino were beating a man who had robbed a local, he set out with his son who had spent time in prison, telling him, “Come, let’s see why crime doesn’t pay.” Some residents warned the men about passing Police that might see them in the act of punishing an assailant. As Cacao and Arete punished a man who robbed a local, Jimena yelled from her second-story window: “[Police] are coming, get inside!” Cacao and Arete guided the assailant inside and beat him while Jimena kept watch. Some locals who had been assaulted wanted the men to provide retribution. For example, after Marta (age 20) showed the men her cuts and bruises, she and her parents insisted on watching them beat her attacker—an ex-lover. In another incident, Gustavo (age 43) watched videos on his phone in his employer’s truck before starting a 6am route distributing bottled beverages. A stranger stepped up to the window and asked for money. As Gustavo retrieved coins, the man stabbed his forearm and snatched his phone. Gustavo yelled and honked the horn until Cassio and Arete arrived. Arete drove Gustavo in the truck to a hospital while Cassio called Gino and described the assailant. When Gustavo learned that Gigante had found the likely culprit and the phone, he ordered them to “Skin him (que lo pelan)!” The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1185

News spread quickly in the zone, and residents who knew about assaults

often asked the men in subsequent encounters, “You guys going to mess him up Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 (lo van a pelar o que)?” or “Did you hurt him (ya le dieron)?” The men issued replies like, “Rude people should be taught (hay que enseñar a los groseros),” or, “You know how it is (usted sabe como es).” Some residents, especially ado- lescents, may have asked out of mere curiosity. But these inquiries conveyed shared expectations for the men to punish assailants and reinforced shared per- ceptions that violence was an acceptable element of the way security was done. Although some residents actively supported the men’s violence, many more endorsed their violence by not opposing it or informing Police (cf. Walker 2014). After Lucas, Simón, and Diablo apprehended Celia’s attacker, she thanked them and said, “Don’t hurt him too much (que no lo dan muy duro),” acknowledging their use of violence. Celia neither watched the punishment nor reported it to Police. She invited several men into her home when they checked on her. Nearly two years later, Celia trustingly asked Bagy and Camilo to escort her to meet the owner (a stranger) of the car that she intended to purchase with a signiﬁcant sum of cash. Some residents protested the men’s intentions to punish people who had been mistakenly apprehended. When Dino detained a relative, the detainee’s aunt, Carolina (age 43), objected, “Why would you hurt a good boy (juicioso)?” Dino apologized, “I’m sorry (que pena con usted, madre).” Before learning that the real culprit had been apprehended, Yony ordered Dino to release Carolina’s nephew. Carolina neither called Police nor opposed the men’s punishment of the actual assailant. It was violence against her nephew that she opposed. Carolina approached Dino and Bagy in the street days after this incident and slapped Dino’s arm “Idiot (bobo)! Almost ruining my weekend,” she cackled. She hugged Dino, who was embarrassed: “You are good boys, taking care of us. God bless you (Díos los bendiga).” Months after displaying such affection, Carolina asked Yony to have Pino escort her truant son to school. The sequence of Carolina’s actions over time suggests that she endorsed the men’s practices and role. Beyond residents who endorsed the men’s violence by actively supporting it or not informing Police, evidence points to a general awareness that the men punished assailants. Many residents facilitated apprehensions through mundane displays of support for the men’s role, such as coming to them with information. Residents populated the streets, so everyone with a view had access to information. On one occasion, four parents approached Yony to report that two stu- dents had been mugged after night school. The parents claimed that the school guard may have seen the “mugger (ﬂeitero).” Camilo, Yony, and Tavo drove to the school and after exchanging greetings with the guard, questioned him: Yony: Tell me about the robberies. Guard: A guy pulled a knife on the kids (pelados). Yony: Did you see him? 1186 Social Forces

Guard: Maybe… I saw a stranger (un tipo raro) on a motorcycle under

that palm-tree. Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 Yony: He snatched their bags from the motorcycle? Guard: No, he followed them on foot down those secluded streets. Yony: Next time you see him… Call so we can end this. Guard: Okay… I don’t want trouble with him looking for me later. Yony: I promise… He won’t know you called. Let him follow the kids… Tell us which way… We have to protect the kids, right? Guard: Clearly. I’ll let you know if I see him. As the guard spoke, he seemed less concerned about what the men might do to the mugger. He was more concerned about their failure to catch the mugger, who might take revenge on him. The guard voluntarily notified the men when he eventually saw the suspect. Based on the guard’s description, Dino and J.J. had an idea of the suspect’s appearance, and were ordered by Yony to sit in a car on a secluded street near the school each night. After 12 evenings, Dino and J.J. received a text from the guard saying that he had seen the suspect. J.J. called Gigante and Nino, who were in another car. The men trapped the mugger, confiscated his knife, and led him to the creek. Arete arrived with the first victim, who confirmed the mugger’s identity. Arete and J.J. beat him. Nino cut his arms, chest, and stomach with a knife. Residents who shared information with the men despite knowing that it might lead to violence endorsed such violence by assisting apprehensions. In fact, several days after the men reacted to the guard’s alert and punished the mugger, one victim and his mother brought food to the men. Their gratitude reasserted the acceptability of the men’s role and practices, as well as the role that residents performed themselves in the local security system. The men’s role was logistically feasible only because locals contributed materially. Most of the men saw patrolling as a full-time job that barred pursuing other employment, and so, on weekends, certain men would ask locals to “support security (colaborar con la vigilancia).” At the time of writing, Colombia’s monthly minimum-wage was $230USD—what Gino nearly earned from locals’ contributions and micro-trafficking (discussed below). “I pay rent, utilities, and feed my family. I sell whatever [drugs] to buy gas, clothes, and cellular service.” Accounts of extortion (vacunas) in Medellín (e.g., Baird 2015) often depict armed groups that resemble what Tilly (1985) described as racketeers: violent organizations that demand tribute in exchange for not harming those who pay. Little has been said about the less coercive exchanges that I observed. Rudi claimed that residents contributed voluntarily: “People give within their means. Nobody is rich. Sometimes people give [$0.15USD], other times [$7USD]. Business owners and drivers give [$33USD] or [$70USD], but not every week. It’s not like one store pays The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1187

and another doesn’t so it’s robbed. If someone had a tough week…

they’ll do their part. Some give nothing… that’s rough.” Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 Certainly, social desirability bias might explain Rudi’s denial that the men ex- torted. So, I asked various locals over the years whether and why they paid the men. Don Miguel, a bodega owner, provided a typical response: “Look, is paying ideal? No. I pay taxes, but the government can’t do what I need. It’s tough… People rob in Medellín. I work hard to keep my business… A robbery will set me back. I know the boys are watching every day, they give me peace of mind. If I can help… A little money, drink, food… No problem.” Don Miguel saw the men as a security enhancement and had supported their operation for years. Careful not to take Don Miguel’swordsatfacevalue,Iwatchedhowthemen treated residents I knew were unable to pay. The elderly, single parents, and the most destitute did not pay the men and werenotharmed.Theseresidentsendorsed the men in other ways: through handshakes, conversations, running errands, and by not reporting the men’sactivitiestoPolice.DoñaElisa(age63),awidow,shared food with patrolmen some nights and, from her stoop, sent them texts about Police locations, rowdy bar patrons, and anything she deemed suspicious. Similarly, Doña Luz (age 58) had lost ﬁve children to political violence and cared for two grandchil- dren. She survived on $100USD per month, gleaned from odd jobs and government assistance. She never paid themenbutvaluedtheirrole:“Somebody has to keep watch… Things have to get bad for [Police] to watch like the boys… They do what needs to be done every day.” And so, Doña Luz supported the men by allowing them to park motorcycles in her home when Police occupied the zone, giving them snacks, and, as a favor to Yony, letting me sleep on her sofa if I could not complete night patrol. Some residents likely disapproved of the men’s practices and role and did not contribute materially. Nearly Sixty percent of residents reported in a survey that they would appeal to Police to solve problems (Eslava et al. 2015, 80). The fact that residents called Police suggests that they were not afraid to do so, and I never observed the men retaliate against residents they knew had called Police. Still, even residents who opted for legal recourse did not actively oppose the men by informing on them. These residents, in their restraint, and those who shared information and resources, endorsed the men’s practices and role in the local security system and reasserted the acceptability of extrajudicial punishment. Moreover, residents who the men had failed to placate called Police not to inform on the men’s actions but, in part, to negatively sanction the men’s inac- tion—i.e., noncompliance with their role in the local security system.

Police Authorization of Extrajudicial Violence The men were unable to make a living from locals’ contributions alone. Though some had part-time jobs (see Table 1), most relied on micro-trafﬁcking. My 1188 Social Forces

evidence suggests that this micro-trafficking was only possible if the men satis- fi ed interdependent conditions of placating residents and keeping Police at bay. Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 If they were to extort residents, the men would undermine their support and risk problems with Police—and that might jeopardize micro-trafficking. Scholars would predict that Police either approached micro-trafficking with zero-tolerance or were corrupt and took bribes, or performed “intermittent, selective, and contradictory policing” (Auyero, Lara, and Berti 2014, 95). But my findings complicate this picture. Perhaps to reduce their workload, Police seemed to leverage micro-trafficking and their power to stop it so as to pressure the men to keep residents feeling safe. Most men profited from micro-trafficking, and some dealt marijuana or cocaine at lookout points under the camouflage of the bustling social life of these spaces (though drug deals ceased when Police were nearby.) I saw only one arrest, but Gogo considered his three-year-sentence as reflecting the harsh penal- ties meted out to dealers. Police passed lookout points every few hours, in pairs on motorcycles, and stared as they passed. Occasionally, Police stopped to hap- hazardly search the area. In a sign of at least partial tolerance, though, I observed 12 instances of Police stopping and issuing statements like, “Relax, I don’t care about bareticas (marijuana joints), I’m looking for guns.” Just one such casual encounter might suggest that Police took bribes. Yet, 45 months of fieldwork revealed that what seemed like lax regulation of micro-trafficking, if not outright corruption, was part of a deeper logic for the local security system. As Tavo put it, “[Police] know we protect the community and that we need to eat.” Police displayed capacities to halt micro-trafficking when they occupied the zone. Yet such iron-fist policing occurred not in response to the men’s extrajudicial punishments, but only when the men’s operation flopped or when residents insistently called Police. In one incident, two teens were robbed and murdered in the zone. Shortly after, 30 motorcycles, a pair of vans, and 2 intelligence trucks transporting a total of 80 Police appeared. Police swept lookout points and detained Cassio for possessing a baretica (he was released.) For a week, six Police sustained a two-block radius around a key micro-trafficking site while another half-dozen patrolled the zone on motorcycles. During this occupation, the men did not patrol or deal drugs. Many worried about making ends meet. “We’ll have to rob in El Centro (central business district),” joked Bagy. Police occupations negatively sanctioned the men for not complying with their role in the local security system. While occupying the zone, Police stopped-and- frisked the men, running background checks with wireless devices. Within the first few hours of an occupation, the same Police stopped and frisked Yony and Camilo three times. These circumstances were unbearable for some of the men, who left the zone until Police presence waned. Yony explained, “It’s better to leave until low tide. We can’t work if [Police] do their job,” suggesting that the men lost—albeit temporarily—income, if not their sense of purpose. Police occupations signaled that the men had failed to do what was expected of them, which in effect authorized their practices and role in the local security system. I observed 11 Police occupations, seven of which occurred after extremely violent The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1189 crimes. Police occupied the zone for three days after a teenager was raped and

for ten days after stray bullets killed a child and a taxi driver. Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 Residents who had been harmed and felt as if the men were dismissive also triggered Police occupations. One resident, Paula (age 32), sent her son with cash to pay bills and he was robbed. She reported the robbery to Yony, who said that his hands were tied because it occurred in an adjacent zone. Yony offered to send an escort with her son next time, but Paula yelled: “Rude (gro- sero)! You help everyone else but not me!” She then called Police to insist on ﬁl- ing a report and that her son be examined. After a few calls, 20 Police—rather than one or two—arrived on motorcycles and patrolled the zone all night. The men did not harm Paula and remained friendly with her. “Her son was robbed, of course she was angry! What can we do? Sometimes it’s better to let things go,” Camilo explained. Like this occupation, I observed three other Police occupations after calls from residents who, like Paula, have not faced retaliation from the men, even years later. The men could not prevent or react to assaults outside of the zone. Yet residents’ calls to Police, and Police reactions, displayed the willingness of residents and Police to negatively sanction the men for noncompliance with the local security system. Community members recognized that Police were the dominant authority even though the roles and rules that sustained the local security system were not speciﬁed laws. However, the elements of the local security system were revealed as residents and Police interrupted the men’s routines, as the men re- started patrols, and as residents resumed their support when Police presence waned.

Discussion and Conclusion The men, residents, and Police each played roles in sustaining violence as an element of the local security system. The men’s micro-trafficking left them available to patrol, respond to residents, and apprehend and punish assailants. Residents and Police reinforced the acceptability of the men’s role and violence through situational endorsement and authorization. Residents endorsed not only through a lack of protest, but by actively supporting the men’s role and use of violence. Some of those who had been harmed even demanded punishments. More broadly, residents endorsed the men’s violence by sharing information and resources that supported efforts to apprehend and punish assailants. Residents also negatively sanctioned the men by calling Police not when the men used violence, but when they failed to comply with their role (cf. Walker 2014). Police, as the dominant authority, authorized the men’s role and violence through patterned regulation of their micro-trafficking, patrols, and punishments. Yet if the men failed to placate residents, Police negatively sanctioned the men by occupying the zone, shutting down micro-trafficking, and hindering their ability to make a living. Although residents who were upset with the men triggered Police occupations, those who called Police did not inform on the men’s activities. One might surmise that residents were subordinates who quiesced to the men publicly but resisted or resented them privately (cf. Gaventa 1980; Scott 2008). Yet residents cannot be 1190 Social Forces

reduced to powerless victims. Many actively supported the men’s violence by vo-

lunteering rope, towels, warnings about Police presence, and resources that made Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 the men’s role and practices logistically feasible. Moreover, residents who called Police demonstrated that they had leverage over the men, which they exercised with discretion. Over the years, I did not observe any retribution by the men against residents who called Police. This suggests that residents often appealed to the men, rather than to Police, not because of legal cynicism or fear, but because they viewed violence specialists and extrajudicial punishment as legitimate elements of the local security system. I contend that extrajudicial violence endured, in part, because it was seen as legitimate for instrumental and expressive reasons. Regarding the former, residents endorsed the men’s violence because they saw it as a means of deterring assailants and enhancing security. Police also had instrumental motives to authorize the men’s violence—it left policing duties more manageable. Regarding the latter, some residents who were assaulted endorsed the men’s violence because it quenched a desire for retribution. The harm that the men in- flicted on assailants’ bodies was uniquely appealing to these residents, who sought swift vengeance that they could not ask Police to provide. By endorsing and authorizing violence that placated aggrieved residents and reinforced the collective sense of security, community members reasserted the acceptability of this cruel extrajudicial justice. But, as my case shows, vigilantes and Police were both seen as legitimate protectors (cf. Tilly 1985). Like Garland (2005) described, extrajudicial violence was viewed as a legitimate complement to, rather than a replacement for, legal authority. One could argue that officials who posed for photos with corpses, attended lynchings, or did not oppose them authorized extrajudicial violence, and that common white people who displayed similar behaviors endorsed it. Garland (2005) demonstrated that extrajudicial violence was perceived as legitimate based on its meaning for the racial order, as opposed to urban security, as in my case. Yet the mechanisms of the legitimation of extrajudicial violence in both cases operated through behaviors, interactions, and relationships that exemplify more general processes of endorsement and authorization. These social psychological concepts have hitherto only been explored in controlled research settings on topics far removed from violence. To my knowledge, this is one of the first ethnographic examinations of how endorsement and authorization work in situ, and it extends social psychological theories of legitimation to the domain of violence. Ethnographic data reveal the legitimation of roles, practices, and systems of meaning with less specified rules that are difficult to simulate in experiments, surveys, or vignettes (cf. Walker 2004). Prolonged ethnographic fieldwork showed that extrajudicial violence had local meanings that contributed to its perpetuation. Although meaning-making is un- derstudied in urban violence research, it complements explanations regarding the state’s role. At any given time, for instance, the men’s violence might suggest that the state left a “governance void” (Kruijt and Koonings 1999), that the men were a para-state (Leeds 1996), or that Police were negligent (Anderson 1999). Conversely, Police occupations ostensibly depicted the state’s iron-fist (Auyero The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1191 and Lara 2012). Over time, however, I saw that the men’s violence, and the Police

occupations, all unfolded in relational patterns that may have endured whether Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 the practices of the state and Police were perceived as negligent or overly- repressive. For example, scholars suggest that the violence gangs use on behalf of residents is a result of negligent police. My case helps explain why, even if police are responsive, residents may appeal to gangs based on meanings ascribed to gang practices. Gangs are familiar with housing projects and neighborhoods and may respond more effectively to residents’ concerns than police, and gang members are more familiar personally to residents (cf. Jankowski 1991; Venkatesh 2002). Residents may see this familiarity and efficiency as justifications for gang violence despite responsive police. Indeed, studies show that communities protect local gangs in contexts of repressive policing (Goffman 2014; Pattillo 1998). Scholars have explained violence that persists under the watch of police in terms of corruption (Arias 2006). The men’s violence protected micro- trafficking, and Police tolerance of micro-trafficking suggests possible corruption. Yet the men used violence to placate residents and avoid Police attention that would, in turn, impede micro-trafficking. The men’s violence was insepara- ble from the leverage that residents and Police had over them, not a mere product of the men’s dominance or the actions of corrupt state officials. In fact, while some Police may have been corrupt, many were trustworthy. One Police officer, Conte, took Bruno’s cash, punched Gino, pushed Pino’s mother, and drew a gun on a crowd. Conte resembled police who perpetuated violence and legal cynicism in Buenos Aires (Auyero and Lara 2012). He was abusive. But prolonged fieldwork showed that he was an exception. Residents complained to the district Coronel, who transferred Conte. Most other Police did not abuse residents, and there was no clear evidence that the men bribed Police to ignore micro- trafficking. Notably, patterns of extrajudicial violence I observed during Conte’s tenure endured after his transfer. Certainly, corruption may exacerbate the prevalence of violence. Emphasizing corruption, however, implies that increased institutional legitimacy automati- cally curbs violence and eradicates illegal armed groups. Although my analysis does not flatly contradict this theory, tracing patterns of interaction among citizens and state officials over time paints a more complex picture. My findings suggest that the meanings people ascribe to some violent practices, whether beating as an ethic of protection (Auyero and Kilanski 2015) or fighting as a currency for respect (Anderson 1999), may persist even amid a legitimate legal authority structure. Further, police may authorize violent practices, based on meanings they have for local security, regardless of corruption, and notwith- standing “symbiosis” between state officials and criminal organizations (cf. Willis 2015). Theories of legal cynicism grapple with local meanings of violence (Kirk and Papachristos 2011) but presume that locals’ acceptance of vigilante violence is proof that they have dismissed state institutions as illegitimate (Vilas 2007). I showed that residents appealed to the men to redress grievances, which could be seen as legal cynicism. However, even though the men offered protection and swift retribution, the likes of which no police force in any large city is capable, residents were not averse to calling Police. Nor were they particularly 1192 Social Forces

cynical of legal authority, according to both my qualitative data and ofﬁcial

surveys. Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020 My case shows that extrajudicial violence and legal authority can be seen as legitimate simultaneously. And my analysis demonstrates that social psychological theories of legitimation contribute to our understanding of urban violence by clarifying why meaning matters. Situational endorsement by residents and authorization by Police elucidates how the legitimation of violence unfolds in Medellín. An interactional, meaning-based perspective on the legitimation of extrajudicial violence can also help explain other cases—e.g., how extrajudicial killings endure in the Philippines despite the denouncement of Duterte (Tusalem 2018) or why they might reemerge in Brazil under Bolsonaro (Baiocchi and Silva 2018). Identifying how local meanings of violence are situationally constructed sheds light on why violence endures in some poor urban communities even as state practices and social structures change over time.

Notes 1. Theories of state formation suggest that people may view both the sovereign and rebel regimes as legitimate protectors (Arjona 2016; Tilly 1985); and in a study of sovereignty among gun owners, Carlson (2014) shows how citizens view extrajudicial violence as a legitimate practice that does not delegitimize the state. 2. Garland (2005) offers an analogy for how actions convey the legitimacy of both extrajudicial violence and legal authority. Yet Garland’s case differs in how race and slavery structured the meanings of violence, security threats, community member- ship, and practices and roles that sustained the security system. 3. In line with Contreras’s (2019) discussion of cases in which unmasking may lead to study participants’ and researchers’ death, I protect my study participants and myself by using pseudonyms, approximating ofﬁcial statistics, and not disclosing the exact location of the zone. 4. From the United States, I communicated with study participants through WhatsApp and Skype. 5. Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) and Army of National Liberation (ELN) were Colombia’s two largest guerrilla groups; both formed in 1964 (Palacios 2006). 6. In Medellín, the wealthiest socioeconomic status ranking is six. The zone, as is typical of lower-working class areas of Medellín, had a rank of three, nearly an 8% unemployment rate, and nearly a population density of 30,000 people per square mile (Annuario Estadistica de Medellín 2015). 7. In 1991, Medellín had the world’s highest homicide rate: 381 per 100,000 people. In 2015, Medellín’s most violent zone had a homicide rate of 90 per 100,000 people and robbery rate of 2,239 per 100,000 people; Medellín’s safest zone had a homicide rate of 5 per 100,000 people and robbery rate of 123 per 100,000 people (Annuario Estadistica de Medellín 2015). For comparison, in 2015, one of Chicago’s most violent neighborhoods, Englewood, had a homicide rate of 115 per 100,000 people and robbery rate of 1,106 per 100,000 people; Chicago’s neighborhood-level median homicide rate was 1.8 per 100,000 people and median robbery rate was 194 per 100,000 people (Chicago Police Department. 2015. Retrieved 2/7/18, https://data. cityofchicago.org/Public-Safety/Crimes) The Legitimation of Extrajudicial Violence 1193

8. Gleaned informally from a convenience sample of approximately 80 men and 60 women (ages 18–71) who were never assaulted. Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/sf/article-abstract/98/3/1174/5382469 by NYU School of Medicine Library user on 09 May 2020

Funding This research was supported by the Social Science Research Council’s International Dissertation Research Fellowship.

About the Author Jon Gordon is a PhD candidate in Sociology at New York University. His interests include urban sociology, political sociology, ethnography, violence, violent organizations, and crime.

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