The Case of Florida's Students Working Against Tobacco George Wheeler Luke

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2004 State-Sponsored Advocacy?: The Case of Florida's Students Working Against Tobacco George Wheeler Luke

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COLLEGE OF SOCIAL SCIENCES

STATE-SPONSORED ADVOCACY? THE CASE OF FLORIDA’S

STUDENTS WORKING AGAINST TOBACCO

GEORGE WHEELER LUKE

A Dissertation submitted to the Department of Sociology in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Awarded: Summer Semester, 2004

The members of the Committee approve the Dissertation of George Wheeler Luke defended on July 12, 2004.

______Patricia Yancey Martin Professor Directing Dissertation

______Marie Cowart Outside Committee Member

______Irene Padavic Committee Member

______Jill Quadagno Committee Member

Approved:

______Isaac Eberstein, Chair, Department of Sociology

The Office of Graduate Studies has verified and approved the above named committee members.

For Emily, who did more work on this project than I will ever admit

iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I thank Pat Martin, who was not my first choice as mentor during my graduate education, but was my wisest choice. She has proven to have an unshakable faith in my ability. I know because I have tried to shake it. As my dissertation advisor she could boost my ego and knock it flat without drawing a breath, and had a preternatural ability of knowing when to do which. Had she not used both the carrot and the stick with such finesse, had she made even the tiniest of miscalculations in her quest to saddle me with a Ph.D, I would have slipped the noose. I am sure of that and glad of her steady guidance. Pat also has that rarest skill among Sociologists—of the ability to engage in complex thinking without sacrificing communicative clarity. In this, and in other aspects, she has become my role model as well as my advisor. Thanks to my committee, for verifying and corroborating my matchless ability to select excellent committee members. Thank you Tim Buehner, co-worker and collaborator at the University of Miami, for your Christ-like sufferance, exemplary modeling, and constructive criticism, including but not limited to collaborating in the gathering of data for this dissertation. Also, my thanks go to all of my friends and family who did not repeatedly ask me when I was going to finish. You know who you are.

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF TABLES...... vii ABSTRACT...... viii CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION...... 1 Research Questions...... 3 An Introduction to SWAT ...... 4 Overview of Chapters ...... 7 CHAPTER 2 THEORIES OF SOCIAL MOVEMENTS...... 9 Social Movements and the State...... 10 The Micro-mobilization Turn in Social Movement Theory ...... 11 Emotions in Social Movements ...... 13 Framing...... 14 Social Movement Organizations...... 16 Summary and Conclusion...... 19 CHAPTER 3 THE ANTI-TOBACCO MOVEMENT AND THE PUBLIC HEALTH... 21 Movement Framings of Tobacco as a Social Problem ...... 21 19th and early 20th Century Movement Framings ...... 21 Contemporary Movement Frames: ...... 23 Public Health Approaches to Tobacco Control ...... 25 The Rise of State Activism ...... 26 Federal Initiatives...... 27 State Programs ...... 30 CHAPTER 4 METHODS...... 35 Procedures of Data Collection ...... 36 Participant Observation...... 36 Official Documents...... 37 News Media Sources...... 38 Focus Groups: ...... 39 Procedures of Data Analysis...... 42 Focus Group Comparisons and the Unit of Analysis...... 43 Coding the Focus Group Data...... 44 Analyzing Emotional Content in the Focus Group Data ...... 46 Summary...... 48 CHAPTER 5 A BRIEF HISTORY OF SWAT ...... 49 Successful Anti-tobacco Litigation...... 50 Development of the “Florida Model” ...... 52 Regime Change...... 57 SWAT Under Waters...... 60 SWAT and Truth...... 64 Funding for SWAT Under the Bush Administration...... 66 Resistance in the SWAT BOD...... 71 Managing the youth ...... 74 SWAT’s Later Agenda: Irrelevant Activism ...... 77

v A Loss of Momentum ...... 78 SWAT on the Sidelines...... 79 Action Independent of the Statewide Office...... 81 Summary and Discussion...... 82 CHAPTER 6 PARTICIPATION IN SWAT ...... 83 Who Are the SWAT Youth?...... 86 The Typical SWAT Team...... 87 SWAT Activities...... 93 The Primacy of the “Health Message”...... 97 Locally Oriented Mobilization...... 102 Constructions of Collective Identity in SWAT...... 104 The Identity of the SWAT Leader ...... 105 Collective Identity Among the Rank-and-file...... 112 Slogans...... 117 Empowerment and Youth Power in SWAT...... 120 Self-Direction...... 121 Money ...... 123 Knowledge ...... 125 Sphere of Influence...... 132 Framing the Tobacco Problem in SWAT ...... 134 Nature of the Problem...... 135 Nature of the Solution...... 137 Motivation...... 138 Emotions and Mobilization in SWAT ...... 139 Summary and Conclusion...... 145 CHAPTER 7 DISCUSSION...... 147 Summary of Findings...... 147 SWAT as a Case of State-Movement Interpenetration...... 150 Micromobilization in SWAT ...... 153 On Empowerment and Power ...... 156 On the Failure to Define SWAT ...... 158 Conclusions...... 161 APPENDIX A. NEWSPAPER SOURCES...... 163 APPENDIX B. PROGRAM DOCUMENTS AND OTHER SOURCES ...... 172 APPENDIX C. TIMELINE OF FTPP AND SWAT 1990-2003...... 176 APPENDIX D. HUMAN SUBJECTS AND INFORMED CONSENT...... 180 REFERENCES ...... 183 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ...... 191

vi LIST OF TABLES

Table 4.1. SWAT Member Characteristics by Interview ...... 40

Table 4.2. Study sites...... 41

Table 4.3. SWAT focus group interview questions...... 42

Table 4.4 Initial analytic codes ...... 45

Table 5.1 Highlights of focus group sites ...... 89

Table 6.2: Types of SWAT activities ...... 94

Table 6.3: SWAT activities mentioned by type and site ...... 96

Table 6.4 Dominant Emotions Found at Each Study Site ...... 142

vii ABSTRACT

This dissertation explores the relationship between the state and a social movement organization thus raising questions about relations between the two. Specifically, are state sponsored anti-tobacco youth organizations viable social movement organizations? How do they contribute to the anti-tobacco social movement in terms of the mobilization of individuals for social action on tobacco issues? The author applies theories of micromobilization, originally developed to understand how social movement organizations work, to assess the ways one state-run youth group, Florida’s Student’s Working Against Tobacco (SWAT), mobilized youth and also determine what they were mobilized to do. Political opportunity theory is used to frame the analysis and interpret the results, in line with Burawoy’s extended case method. Data for the project, covering events prior to SWAT’s launch in March 1998 through its effective end in June 2003, include newspaper articles, official documents and reports, participant observation by the author, and transcripts from group interviews with 86 youth aged 12 to 18 about their experiences in SWAT. Inductive analysis, using the qualitative program ATLAS/ti, was done to identify key themes in the youth interviews, including issues related to mobilization, collective identity, emotions, and framing. The findings are as follows. (1) The SWAT program proved to be dependent on the state leadership, especially the governor, having been founded under one governor who lent his name and time to the fight against big tobacco and undermined (as in de- funded) by the succeeding governor. State officials used a variety of tactics to suppress, redirect, and manage youth after regime change occurred. (2) Youth comments in the group interviews (conducted two years following regime change) revealed an organization substantially re-purposed away from social action on tobacco and partly reoriented away from tobacco issues altogether. While the ‘Board of Director’ groups, comprised of youth from around the state who played a leadership role, maintained rhetoric of social action consistent with the organization’s original construction, the practice of social action was limited. It was found in only one of the eight sites included in the study, and accounted for there by locally driven issues. (3) Analysis of structural

viii relations in SWAT, presented in terms of the youth’s state of empowerment within the organization, generally contradicted SWAT’s official claims to be “youth run” and further problematize the notion of a viable state-supported movement organization. The conclusions return to the questions posed at the start of the project and review how the findings can be used to improve social movements theories, particularly theories of political opportunity and micro-mobilization but also the role of emotions in social movement mobilization. Most importantly, they show the dilemmas, indeed major hurdles, that a state-sponsored movement organization faces including its vulnerability to changes in formal/administrative state support. Policy implications are addressed that identify the kinds of conditions that would be necessary for a state-sponsored social movement organization to succeed. Lastly, the impact of SWAT involvement on the lives of its youth participants is addressed. While most were likely minimally affected, at least some of the students came to understand the goals and tactics of a social movement and developed and maintained an emotional and intellectual commitment to the fight against big tobacco. While the Florida experiment arguably failed in the aggregate, this conclusion does not hold for at least some individuals. A call for further research is issued, including theorization of the dynamics of state-movement relationships, the defining elements of social movement organizations, and the dynamics and emotions of mobilization, with a special plea to focus on the evolving interface between public health policy and the anti-tobacco movement agenda.

ix CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION

To many Americans outside the tobacco control movement, the year 1997 seemed to hold the promise of a triumphant ending to the thirty-year war against the tobacco companies (Pertschuk 2001)

On August 25, 1997, the State of Florida settled the lawsuit it had brought against five major tobacco manufacturers to recover its share of Medicaid expenses incurred treating smoking related diseases. Florida settled for 11.3 billion dollars, generating a domino effect that involved all fifty states and the federal government and culminating a year later in a “Master Settlement Agreement.” The massive influx of funds brought by the tobacco settlements coincided with what appeared to be a historic shift in tobacco control tactics on the part of the states: that is, a resolve to hold the tobacco industry accountable for its actions in promoting and distributing a product with known disease- causing properties. The settlements were thought to signal a sea change in governmental policy toward the tobacco industry, and with that, the coming victory of the anti-tobacco movement over their enemy. Several states, including Florida, used portions of their tobacco settlement proceeds to fund new tobacco control programs in line with the aggressive anti-industry tone of the Medicaid-recovery lawsuits. The new public health programs were modeled on trials underway since 1992 sponsored by the National Cancer Institute, as well as a handful of state projects, that experimented with state involvement in grassroots organizing for the anti-tobacco movement. In Florida, this model of state support for movement activity led state officials to create their own anti-tobacco movement organization comprised of schoolchildren, known as Students Working Against Tobacco, and to maintain it wholly under the authority of the state bureaucracy. In the case of tobacco control, the lines between state sponsored health intervention and an anti-tobacco social movement became blurred as state public health agencies used movement rhetoric and organizing strategies for the development of a tobacco prevention program.

1 This dissertation seeks to understand and explore the organization known as Student’s Working Against Tobacco (SWAT), which is funded, organized, and managed by the Florida Department of Health. I propose to situate SWAT within the dual contexts of youth substance abuse prevention and the contemporary anti-tobacco social movement. I show how, in spite of its location within the state bureaucracy, SWAT as originally constructed by state officials in 1998 was able to make a sincere claim to status as a social movement organization (SMO). I also show that this claim was jeopardized after 1999 when modifications made to the program following a change in Florida’s political administration effectively destroyed its ability to carry out an anti-tobacco movement agenda. With this analysis, I have to challenge existing research on the nature of state/movement dynamics and contribute to the development of a more complex understanding of the political process (McAdam 1982) of social change through collective action. Specifically I extend and problematize the concept of state-movement interpenetration, which Wolfson (2001) developed to explain the almost unique nature of the state’s involvement in the anti-tobacco movement. And I use several theories of micromobilization (McAdam 1988; Collins 2001; Gould 2001; Jasper 1997; Snow et. al 1986) to assess SWAT’s functional attributes as a social movement organization in the wake of state “regime change.” This study uses a variety of data sources, including participant observation, review of program documents, news archives, and twelve archived focus groups (collected from SWAT youth in Spring 2001). My key interests are the links between, on the one hand, micro-sociological processes of mobilization, recruitment, and the maintenance of emotional energy (Collins 2001) for tobacco control among SWAT youth, and on the other hand, the shifting political and organizational landscape in which SWAT youth operated. By combining or interplaying analytic foci of the different theoretical perspectives and data sources, and applying them to a case study of an organization whose claims to SMO status are contestable, I extend Wolfson’s (2001) theory of political process. Following Burawoy’s (1998) extended case method I focus on both micro and macro social phenomena to reveal linkages between them and improve theoretical conceptions of each.

2 Research Questions

I ask several questions related to both the program’s administration and to the youth involved in SWAT. Related to the program administration: What was the intended mission of the SWAT organization? What theoretical sources did its developers draw from? In what ways could SWAT claim status as an anti-tobacco social movement organization? What events led to changes in the program, and how were those changes implemented? How were these changes resisted by SWAT youth, and what means did state officials employ to effect control of the organization and mitigate resistance from SWAT youth? Related to youth involved in the organization: in the period after SWAT was substantially reorganized and reoriented following regime change, what were the range of social change/movement frames that the teens identified in their discussions and what rationales do they use to justify each one? How do the teens use the various “framings” (explained below) of tobacco issues provided by the program, and how and why do they internalize/reject/re-construct these framings? How do the teen participants’ emotions come into play in their discussions of the program’s goals and methods/means? Regarding emotions, my primary hypothesis is that youth who show particular emotional constructions associated with social movement participation will embrace a social change/social movement frame more than those who do not show these constructions. They will feel stronger about the program, its potential social movement agenda, and its use of methods that target macro interests. A secondary hypothesis is that where the above conditions are present, SWAT will contribute meaningfully to the anti- tobacco movement, in other words, where (and if) SWAT functions as a social movement organization, I expect to find specific emotions of protest (Jasper 1998), which have been found to be associated with collective action. My results can add to two areas of sociological interest in social movements. First, if my results show that SWAT functioned as a social movement organization, in that it mobilized participation through the creation of collective action frames (Snow et al. 1986) among its membership, despite its location within the state bureaucracy and despite any latent contradictions inherent in that location, they may problematize

3 conventional notions of what social movement organizations are and the roles they play relative to movements and to the state. Secondly, regarding the the emotions of social movement activism: if my results show that youth who embrace a more macro, social change agenda tend to also describe their involvement in terms of an emotional commitment to “the cause” and/or describe the social problem of tobacco in terms of moral outrage (Jasper 1997) against specified and actionable targets, while those who embrace a more individual reform agenda are less emotionally invested, my results may illuminate the link between emotions, collective action frames, and social movement activism. That is, they may shed light on conditions that prompt people to commit emotionally to a social movement, makes them willing to devote personal resources to the movement’s goals, strategies, and ideology, as opposed to conditions that do not prompt such investments on the part of potential movement adherents.

An Introduction to SWAT

In 1997 the State of Florida settled a lawsuit (known as the “Florida Settlement”) against the four largest manufacturers of tobacco products to recover the state’s share of Medicaid costs associated with the consequences of tobacco use (Givel and Glantz 1999). The 10 billion dollar settlement (later increased to 11.3 billion), payable over a period of 25 years (at approximately 550 million per year), included a provision to fund an anti- tobacco prevention program focused on youth. In the original language of the agreement: Settling Defendants also agree to support a pilot program (the “Pilot Program”) by the State of Florida, the elements of which shall be aimed specifically at the reduction of the use of Tobacco Products by persons under the age of 18 years. Accordingly, on or before September 15, 1997, the Settling Defendants shall, pursuant to the Escrow Agreement, cause to be paid into a second special escrow account (the “Second Escrow Account”), for the benefit of the State of Florida, to be held in escrow pending Final Approval of this Settlement Agreement, the sum of $200 million. The Pilot Program will commence upon Final Approval of this Settlement Agreement and last for a 24-month period following such date. The $200 million amount payable by Settling Defendants in support of the Pilot

4 Program shall be used only after approval by the Court and at the rate of approximately $100 million per 12-month period for general enforcement, media, educational and other programs directed to the underage users or potential underage users of Tobacco Products (Doc. 27). Named the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program, the prevention effort came to include an aggressive counter-marketing campaign, known as TRUTH, and a statewide youth program called Student’s Working Against Tobacco (SWAT). The pilot program also greatly increased funding for the use of school-based anti-tobacco curricula. In the original terms of the Florida Settlement, “SWAT” was not specifically mentioned by name. Neither was an advocacy organization to be run-by-youth alluded to. The organization was created after a statewide summit of youth convened by the Florida Governor, Lawton Chiles, in the summer of 1998 (Buehner et al. 2001). SWAT grew from nothing in 1998, to an organization with a reported statewide membership of over 50,000 young people by 2001 (Doc. 52). The mission of SWAT is difficult to establish from official sources. A program- produced report of the meeting that formally launched SWAT listed two roles for the SWAT youth, to “assist in the development of the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program” and to “lead a grassroots movement against tobacco” (Doc. 49). This list shows an organization aimed at grassroots advocacy: “by” youth rather than “at” youth (a phrase I often heard from Tobacco Program staff). However in other publications the organization’s mission was defined differently. According to another report developed by the Department of Health, SWAT functioned “to empower youth to resist tobacco use” and suggests that “empowered youth who choose to live tobacco-free will have an important long-term impact on the prevalence of tobacco use… (Bauer and Johnson 2001).” This second description implies a different mission altogether, one that focuses on SWAT youth making responsible personal health decisions rather than mobilizing for social change. The contradictions in these two statements reflected an institutional confusion, and possible duplicity, about SWAT on the part of state officials that persisted throughout the organization’s existence. Little published information exists on the formal organizational structure of SWAT. The account provided below is drawn largely from personal experience as a

5 program evaluator assigned to the Florida Tobacco Control Program (FTCP) from1999 to 2003. While this account is somewhat subjective and personal, I believe it contributes to an understanding of the organizational setting of SWAT and therefore provides insight into the issues to be explored in this study. SWAT teams exist in school and community based settings in each of Florida’s 67 Counties. Most teams have an adult advisor—usually a teacher or community center staff member, who often receives nominal compensation for their support. Each county has a countywide SWAT organization, usually comprised of representatives from each SWAT team (although in smaller counties, the countywide organization might be the entire membership). Each county also selects a statewide youth representative. The 67 statewide representatives (known as the Board of Directors or BOD) meet quarterly to plan statewide advocacy activities. The BOD also elects an eleven member “Executive Committee,” comprised of officers. The Executive Committee meets quarterly just prior to each BOD meeting for agenda setting and policy development. The county SWAT organizations are closely tied to county “Partnerships” run by Tobacco Control Program Staff. Each county health department employs one “Tobacco Prevention Coordinator” whose budget is controlled by the FTCP program office in Tallahassee. Most counties also employ a SWAT Coordinator, an adult who “coordinates” the activities of the county SWAT organization and reports to the Tobacco Prevention Coordinator. The FTCP program office manages SWAT primarily through two (of five) program components: Youth Development and Community Partnerships (the other three are Education and Training, Marketing, and Evaluation). Youth Development staff coordinate statewide meetings, maintain contacts with SWAT members, and represent “youth interests” in staff meetings. Community Partnerships staff authorize expenditures of county funds and provide trainings and orientation to adult staff members in the counties. SWAT receives no budget directly from the FTCP. Money instead goes through the Tobacco Prevention Coordinators who support SWAT in each county in turn. SWAT organization at and below the county level is not dictated by statewide policy. Recruitment methods, membership qualifications, organizational structure and the scope of activities vary from county to county. In some counties SWAT members

6 work alongside adult volunteers; in other counties, they operate independently. Tracking SWAT as a statewide organization, or even identifying it with any specificity, is difficult. To a large degree, SWAT does not appear to be driven explicitly by any theory or model of intervention; instead, it seems to reflect a commitment to local control (or “community involvement”) combined with an often-stated commitment to youth input in the decision- making process. The resultant mix of top-down fiscal control and bottom-up local (and youth) innovation follows no recognizable theory of public health behavioral intervention. In the organizational ambiguity that characterizes SWAT at the street-level (a term coined by Michael Lipsky in 1980 to indicate policy disconnects between levels of bureaucratic administration within organizations), elements of a nascent social movement organization may have coalesced. If so, how can it be recognized?

Overview of Chapters

The organizations of material in this dissertation is as follows. Chapter 1. This introductory chapter introduces the subject, and provides a brief account of the SWAT organization. It also offers a rationale for the study, including contributions to the literature on social movements. Chapter 2. Reviews and assesses sociological theories of social movements and social movement organizations, focusing on theories of political process, framing, and the emotional aspects of participation in social movements. Chapter 3. Provides an overview of historical developments in the U.S. anti- tobacco movement’s framing of tobacco issues, concurrent developments in the state bureaucracy, specifically within the public health community, and the eventual overlap of movement and state tactics in the early 1990’s. Chapter 4. Describes the data and methods used in the study. Chapter 5. Charts the history of SWAT, identifying key events that shaped the organization’s development, including changes to the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program (FTPP) in the period from 1997 through 2003. I cover the year prior to the program’s formal launch in 1998, to its effective demise through budget cuts in the Spring of 2003,

7 and show how the SWAT organization was restructured, and the means state officials used to shape and control it. Chapter 6. Focuses on the SWAT organization as experienced in March 2001, two years after restructuring, focusing on the ways SWAT youth in statewide leadership positions and in the counties interpreted their experiences as organizational members and program participants through their own accounts. I explore the youth’s interests and motivations toward the program and toward tobacco control and identify several ways in which SWAT youth were not empowered to act as anti-tobacco activists. I draw on theories of micromobilization to assess program claims that the youth are movement activists, and conclude that, with few exceptions, SWAT in 2001 had evolved away from an existence as an anti-tobacco movement organization and toward a variety of other functions, some consistent with the idea of tobacco prevention, some not. Chapter 7. Summarizes the major findings and discusses them relative to Wolfson’s (2001) concept of state-movement interpenetration, and specifically the notion of grassroots organizing through state program intervention. It also….

8 CHAPTER 2 THEORIES OF SOCIAL MOVEMENTS

Sociological theories of social movements continue to evolve. In the 1960s, the field was dominated by theories of collective behavior that posited movements as fundamentally irrational and movement actors as guided by emotional, rather than rational, motivations (see Smelser 1963, 1968). These theories tended to ignore social movement organizations and focus instead on crowd behavior. They presented social movement actors as misfits and defectives. As one retrospective account has put it: “Freudian psychology was often appropriated to show that participants were immature: narcisstic, latently homosexual, oral dependant, or anal retentive” (Goodwin et al. 2001:3). Beginning in the 1970s, this view was challenged, by research that attempted to develop an understanding of social movements in terms of rational choice theory, with a focus on how social movements overcome the “free rider” problem (Olsen 1965; Walsh and Warland 1983; Oliver 1984; Klandermans and Oegema 1987). The free rider problem as applied to social movement participation might be thought of as: how is an individual motivated to participate in movement work if the movement’s success is unlikely to depend on the individual’s contribution and the individual will reap the benefits of movement success regardless of their participation? At the same time, other research, also inspired by rational choice theory, began to emphasize macro and meso levels of political process (McAdam 1982; McAdam et al 1996) and resource mobilization (McCarthy and Zald 1977; Jenkins 1983; Taylor 1989) in social movements. Political Process (PP) theorists tended to focus on social movements’ relations to the state in terms of opportunity structures and constraints (McAdam et al. 1996), and most recently, state-movement interpenetration (Wolfson 2001). Resource mobilization theory (RM) theorists focused on the study of social movement organizations, particularly how they function to promote (McCarthy and Zald 1977) or conserve (Taylor 1989) movement strength by, for example, recruiting participants or articulating movement aims. Both RM and PP tend to assume that social

9 movements operate in highly rationalized environments and that their actions, relative to the state, to the public, and even toward movement actors, can be understood through its effects, as if every action were strategic in intent. This view is almost the opposite of earlier “collective behavior” approaches.

Social Movements and the State

Political Process Theory, or Political Opportunity Theory (McAdam 1982; Tarrow 1988), is an attempt to assess the nature of state/movement dynamics. Most social movement theorists agree on a basic level that the state, as the only wielder of sanctioned or legitimate violence in most societies, is the target of social movement activity. Contested issues between groups are ultimately settled through state policy or law. Beyond the idea of the state as target, theorists differ in conceptualizations of the state. Some see the state as a monolithic and active source of repression for movements (Birnbaum 1988; Gamson 1990); others see state institutions as relatively passive structure of opportunities that movements can infiltrate or subvert to further movement aims (Eisenstein 1996; Martin 1990), or as an occasional active if unconscious facilitator of movements, particularly when state policy aims are effected in ways that also promote movement agendas (Piven and Cloward 1978; Harrison 1988; Klein 1984). Recently, a view of state/movement dynamics has arisen that challenges the conventional view of political process theorists of the state as target, a source of repression, or a passive structure on which movements may realize opportunities. In a study of Minnesota’s anti-tobacco movement of the mid 1990s, Wolfson (2001) describes a process of sustained “close collaboration” (Wolfson 2001:45) between movement organizations and the state (especially the Minnesota Department of Health (MDH)) that transcended accounts, in the extant political process literature, of state facilitation of other movements. In the Minnesota case, Wolfson cites examples of collaboration that included joint public information advocacy campaigns, the use of state funds for the support of movement groups, and a negotiated division of labor between state agencies and movement groups in lobbying for a series of restrictive tobacco bills. Wolfson calls the dynamic he observed in Minnesota state-movement interpenetration. He argues that

10 in the case of the anti-tobacco movement and its relationship to state health agencies: “It is next to impossible to think about the movement without thinking about the state. The state is not limited to being an external force that acts on, or is acted upon by, the movement, but is in fact an integral part of the movement” (Wolfson 2001:145). In other words, MDH administrators were movement actors in the anti-tobacco movement in Minnesota, and the MDH, and the state, by implication, acted as a social movement organization. Wolfson’s intriguing addition to political process theory has recently been applied outside the anti-tobacco movement (see for example Jenness 2003). The idea of state-movement interpenetration raises questions about what exactly constitutes a social movement organization, which I discuss later in this chapter.

The Micro-mobilization Turn in Social Movement Theory

Accounts that use Resource Mobilization and Political Process to study social movements have been criticized for ignoring individual motivations for involvement (Buechler 1995), for an uncritical and problematic use of a rational choice model of human behavior (Ferree 1992), for dismissing the role of emotions in social movements (Goodwin et al 2001), and for ignoring cultural aspects of movement dynamics (Taylor 1989; Johnston and Klandermans 1995). In other words, the free rider problem remained largely unaddressed in these theoretical approaches. New strains of social movement research and theory have emerged through this challenge. Some of the new social movement theory draws on European research that sees social movements as fundamentally expressive, rather than instrumental (Melucci 1989; Taylor and Whittier 1992). In this formulation, social movements are examined for the ways in which participants are mobilized to identify collectively with the aims of the movement, simultaneously furthering the movement by identifying with group interests. Or, as one writer put it, engaging in the “…often fragile process of constructing collective identities” (Buechler 1995). The focus in collective identity research is on the social construction of social movements; that is, it asks how social movement actors have agency. What motivates ordinary people to contribute individually and collectively to social movement dynamics and structure and what do they get in return? McAdam

11 (1988) labeled these sorts of questions, which focus on motivations of social movement adherents, the micromobilization context (1988:125) I use the term micromobilization theory, after McAdam (1988) to collectively describe theories of collective identity formation (Melucci 1989), emotions in social movements and the social construction of collective action frames. Melucci (1989) renewed interest in motivational aspects of movement participation with his concept of collective identity, which he defined as “An interactive and shared definition produced by several individuals who are concerned with the orientation of their action as well as the field of opportunities and constraints in which their action takes place” (Melucci 1989:34). Melucci is interested in the kinds of “cognitive and emotional investments” (1989:36) individuals make into social movements that overcome the free rider problem. He saw that social movement organizations play an important but not exclusive role in shaping collective identity, as social constructions are always the result of negotiated processes between individuals and social structures. In other words, individuals accept, reject, and modify various constructions of reality proposed by others (including movements and movement organizations) in an ongoing reconstruction of the self. Cohesion (and mobilization potential) within a movement is somewhat dependent on the degree that renegotiated identities are shared. As Melucci put it, a collective identity in one in which members of a group “see themselves in each other” and have a common understanding of “goals, means, and the environment of action” within a movement. Individual rational calculation of “cost and benefit,” a process that can give rise to the free rider problem, are themselves shaped by the “common cognitive frameworks” movement participation produces (1989:35) Social movement organizations facilitate the development of collective identity by providing a means to “activate relationships among (social movement) actors, who communicate, negotiate, and make decisions” about the movement (1989:35). Melucci, and other (mostly European) critics of “instrumental” approaches to the study of social movements, recognized that motivations have both cognitive and emotional components. The recent European focus on identity in social movements, including Melucci’s (1989) concept of collective identity formation, has been labeled

12 “new social movement theory” (Buechler 1995) and has sparked similar lines of research in the U.S. I make use of two areas in the “new social movement” field: research on emotions in social movements and theories of how social problems are defined or framed within social movements.

Emotions in Social Movements

The “instrumentalist” critique of Resource Mobilization theory and associated expressivist turn to issues of micromobilization has also generated a renewed interest in emotions and their relation to identity in social movements (Goodwin 1997; Goodwin et al 2001; Goodwin and Jasper 1999; Jasper 1998) Emotions received early attention from scholars of feminist organizations, notably Hochschild (1979), but RM writers have largely ignored them. The general slowness to recognize the important of emotion in the social construction of reality within sociology at large has been attributed by some theorists, including feminist theorists, to the pervasiveness of male/female cognitive/emotional dichotomies in patriarchal science and the devaluation of the latter (Goodwin et al. 2001) In Contrast, emotions are seen in these recent works as central to understanding micro-level processes in social movements and SMOs, including perceived grievances and motivation for participation. Like new social movement theory, the “focus on emotions” work is often interested in their roles in the social construction of movements, but also in the way emotions are created, shaped, and communicated to people by or through social movement organizations (Gould 2001). Several contributions have emerged from the “emotions” approach I find useful. One is that at the origin of a social movement there is a grievance that often carries an emotional component. Potential movement participants often “feel” wronged by the issue they want to correct, If they do not (and this is the second contribution) social movement organizations will point it out for them, in a way that takes debilitating emotions like shame and anger, and redirects them against targets of the movement. Gould (2001) calls this work in social movement organizations emotional transformation. Another insight into movements by the emotions researchers is that they are fueled by passion, or as Collins (2001) terms it: emotional energy. According to Collins (2001) social movement organizations live or die by their ability to harness and intensify

13 emotional energy among their adherents. Jasper (1997), Gould (2001, 2002) Collins (2001) and others have noted that among the emotional products of successful social movement organizations is moral outrage focused on the movement issues and on the originator of the perceived grievances. This emotion, more than any other, stimulates collective identity formation in the form of a shared oppositional consciousness (Mansbridge and Morris 2001) Thus it sustains movement activity and motivates participation, and may ultimately explain social movements’ apparent ability to overcome the free rider problem. Jasper (1997) has argued that emotions, especially outrage, are tied to perceptions of injustice, and fuel the motivation to participate in a social movement. Beyond that, Gould (2002) identified ways in which movement organizations work to transform emotions, especially among participants, as part of the process of developing a collective identity of the movement and/or framing the movement. Emotions, once neglected by researchers interested in how social movements mobilize resources or how social movement participants construct collective identities that frame the movement and themselves, are nevertheless a fundamental part of the motivations behind collective behavior in social movements (Goodwin et al. 2001). Rather than seeing emotions as irrational or somehow opposed to objective interests, this perspective approaches the study of emotions within social movements as key to understanding what motivates people to become involved and why social movements arise in the first place. The focus of this type of study is emotions that are brought to the table, how they are transformed through participation in collective action, and how they ultimately shape the movement.

Framing

Evolving somewhat parallel to RM, and since incorporated into most approaches to the study of social movements, are contributions in the area of social movements actions relative to social constructionist approaches to social reality (Snow et al. 1986; Snow and Benford 1988, Taylor and Whittier 1992, Oliver and Johnston 2000). The concept of the frame (Goffman 1974)—the idea that our understanding of the world is shaped and delimited by socially constructed filters that sort our experiences and supply meaning—has become a central construct in sociology, especially in the area of symbolic

14 interaction. RM, PP and identity theorists have appropriated it, although differently in each case. RM and PP theorists tend to think of frames as constructed by organizations or states and used by them in struggles to gain adherents, mobilize constituents, or contest competing frames (McAdam 1996; Gamson and Meyer 1996). Micromobilization theorists recognize that frames are the product of ongoing negotiated discourse and interaction among individuals and between individuals and groups (Klandermans 1988). These theorists tend to be more concerned with how frames are constructed and re- constructed, than with how they are used to further movement objectives. Of the many contributions to social movement research based on the idea of the frame, I want to talk about three, briefly: first, the notion of “frame alignment,” then the “collective action frame” and finally the “injustice frame.” The first is Snow et al.’s (1986) appropriation of Goffman’s (1974) concept of the frame, which they apply to social movement research. According to Snow et al., frame alignment is the process of “linkage or conjunction of individual and [social movement organization] interpretive frameworks,” or how the individual and the movement “align” interests and goals. Later, Snow and Benford (1992) elaborated on the product of frame alignment processes, the collective action frame, which can be identified by the three functions it provides to the movement: punctuation of the “injustice”, attribution of the cause/solution to the injustice, and articulation of connections between participants. Social movement researchers of diverse theoretical orientations have used the concept of the collective action frame widely but, until recently, it figured most prominently in political process research, perhaps because of its obvious application at the macro-level of the movement, rather than at the level of the individual. Recently, there has been renewed interest in the micro-processes of framing, specifically in the identification and/or social construction of “injustices” collective action frames are themselves built around. The idea of an injustice frame refers to a perceived wrong that may or may not lead to collective action (Gamson 1992). The idea is getting new attention, at least in part, due to a recognition that emotions (discussed in the next section) play an important role in the construction of injustice frames within social movement organizations. For the current project, I use the concept of frame from both macro and micro perspectives; to demonstrate differences between various institutional and movement

15 approaches to tobacco issues, and to examine the construction of youth’s identities as tobacco control advocates and their alignment relative to these different approaches.

Social Movement Organizations

Like other social movements, the contemporary anti-tobacco movement is not monolithic. Rather it is represented by a variety of organizational and political interests each with a unique history, relationship to the movement, and relationship to organizations outside the movement. The complex interrelatedness of movement organizations makes it difficult to locate movement with any precision, and changing boundaries of the movement as well as changing fortunes of movement organizations mean that different organizations occupy the “center” (or represent differentially weighted facets of the movement) at different times. All this makes it important to understand, as much as possible, a social movement in terms of the ways in which organizations relate to each other within a movement as well as the disposition among them of (often competing) ideas that serve to frame the movement. Resource Mobilization theorists McCarthy and Zald (1977) defined a Social Movement Organization (SMO) as “a complex, or formal, organization which identifies its goals with the preferences of a social movement and attempts to implement those goals” (1977:1218). This definition has been critiqued for its exclusion of less-than- formal groups, as for example in the case of women’s consciousness raising groups within the feminist movement (Martin 1990). It has also been critiqued for presenting an oversimplified and overly linear model of relationships between movements and organizations. In her study of organizations surrounding the pro-choice movement, Staggenborg (1989) highlighted the complex ways multiple-issue women’s groups and single-issue abortions rights groups contributed to the movement, and the fluid ability of multiple-issue organizations to enter and leave the movement. Both Martin (1990) and Staggenborg (1989) effectively expand the definition of SMO to the point where it becomes difficult to draw clear lines between SMOs and not-SMOs. Under their expanded definition, groups attract the interest of social movement researchers for doing “the work of the movement,” rather than for their organizational mission statements.

16 Movement work is not nearly so easy to assess definitively. More recent research involving SMOs appears to approach the problem on a case-by-case basis or it avoids definitional issues altogether. I would suggest that McCarthy and Zald’s (1977) definition falls short in its attempt to understand an SMO in terms of characteristics observable to the outsider—formal organization, documentation, public statements, and so forth. However, as Martin (1990) shows, in order to make determinations about whether something is or is not a social movement organization, one has to develop an understanding of processes and practices internal to the organization, and perhaps internal to the organization’s members’ consciousnesses—their individual and collective constructions of organizational and movement identity. Micro-mobilization theory and research, especially highlighting the importance of emotions in understanding how social movement organizations work to mobilize supporters and gain adherents, have contributed to an expansion of interest in SMOs beyond their resource mobilization functions (Goodwin et al 2001, Aminzade and McAdam 2002, Taylor and Rupp 2002, Klawiter 1999, Goodwin and Jasper 1999, Jasper 1998). According to this view, emotions constitute sources of participants’ motivations to participate. And at least part of SMOs functioning consists of emotion work (discussed above); that is, the work of managing, creating, and suppressing emotion among its membership. Two recent empirical studies explored emotional aspects of participation in social movement organizations through analysis of emotions in textual data. Kim (2002) looked at emotions in 407 written “testimonials” composed by devotees of a Korean political activist who committed public suicide through self-immolation to protest the government’s policies. The political activist became a martyr for the movement and a focus for other activist’s emotions. Kim found that particular emotions, expressions of “shame, anger, and generalized love” (2002:172) in the testimonials predicted a willingness to participate in movement activities and to self identify with the movement for political reform. Furthermore, emotions were related in complex and subtle ways to activists’ preferences. Expressions of one emotion in particular, shame, served to either reinforce or detract from activists’ commitment to a social movement collective identity depending on the object of the emotion. Shame was expressed frequently in testimonials

17 in the context of comparative statements between the martyr’s sacrifice and the testimonial writers’ determinations of their own inadequacy. Global shame, arising from a self-perceived deficiency of character, predicted lower commitment to the movement, whereas local shame, arising from self-perceived shortcomings of behavior, predicted stronger commitment and a greater willingness to participate (Kim 2002). Kim’s findings reinforce the idea that emotions act in complex ways to motivate social movement participation. In this case, a single emotion had multiple effects. In order to be useful to a movement, emotions have to be deliberately interpreted or shaped by movement organizations. Research by Gould (2001, 2002), concerned the emotions of activists within the AIDS activist organization ACT UP (2001) and the ways in which an organization manages conflicting emotions through emotion work as it struggles to create and maintain a movement identity (2002). Gould analyzed activists’ emotions using various public documents and published works, including newspaper accounts of movement statements, op-ed pieces, and memoirs written by activists in New York, San Francisco, and Chicago. She assembled a history of ACT UP’s emerging AIDS activism that chronicles the emotional utterances of participants and of the organization. She found a shift in the emotional content and the emotion culture from the early movement (pre-1987) that repressed anger and resentment, to the later movement, that focused and directed these same emotions towards designated targets. Gould (2002) used the concept emotion work (Hochschild 1979)1 to describe the process that occurred within ACT UP of transforming participants feelings of grief, loss, and shame into “anger and defiance” (2002:179). Gould argues that the emotion work of ACT UP is an ongoing set of organizational practices and utterances “sometimes consciously but often less purposefully” that served to “nourish and extend an emotional common sense that was amenable to their brand of street activism” [emphasis in original]. ACT UP’s emotion work, as represented by a 1987 leaflet that says “turn rage into action” (2002:181), is evident in the organization’s rhetoric for both internal and external use, and constitutes an important element of the organization’s effort to invoke a

1 Hochschild (1979) originally developed the concept to look at individual behavior required by employers of employees at work.

18 particular injustice frame: the AIDS epidemic as a problem of “government irresponsibility” (2002:181) rather than individual immorality. Internally, members did emotion work by following rituals designed to accomplish frame alignment among the members. Gould used the following example from a meeting in the early 1990s, “…rejecting one member’s proposal that ACT UP start its meetings with a moment of silence to commemorate its dead, the group voted instead to remember its dead by beginning its meetings with a ‘moment of rage’ in the form of a loud chant” (2002:183). The idea that social movement organizations transform and/or shape the beliefs, emotions, and identities of participants related to collective action is not new2, and neither is the focus on emotions in social movement scholarship (see Ferree 1992; Johnston and Klandermans 1995; Taylor 1995). However, as some authors have recently argued (see especially Goodwin et al. 2001), the incorporation of emotions-based research into the study of social movements continues to lag, pointing to the persistence of a “false dichotomy between emotions and rationality” and the need to challenge “conventional categories of analysis” (Aminzade and McAdam 2002:107). I believe the studies cited above by Kim (2002) and Gould (2001, 2002) and their use of the “emotive” (explained in Chapter 4) represent a breakthrough in the use of a theoretical construct related to emotion to facilitate empirical work on the role of emotions in social movements and social movement organizations.

Summary and Conclusion

Social movement theory has evolved into at least three (possibly four) distinct strains characterized more by different analytic foci than disagreements over the interpretation of particular phenomena. Studies of political process, resource mobilization, and micro-mobilization are potentially complimentary approaches to understanding social movements. The conceptual openness of the notion of the social movement organization facilitates inquiry of organizations beyond formally declared SMOs into other groups that

2 The concept of frame alignment (Goffman 1974) was applied to the study of social movements as early as 1986 (Snow et al. 1986).

19 may be doing movement work. However, much research on social movements continues to center on generally agreed upon movement organizations, rather than organizations whose roles relative to a movement are contested or less then obvious. There has been, consequently, little work clarifying the boundaries of the concept of social movement organization. Is it possible, for example (as Wolfson (2001) argues), for a state agency to do the work of a movement? Conversely, is it possible for an organization to make a formal claim to movement organization status and yet not do the work of the movement? Empirically driven answers to these questions will ultimately require accounts of movements from the top, at the level of political process, as well as from the bottom, at the level where movement adherents are mobilized.

CHAPTER 3 THE ANTI-TOBACCO MOVEMENT AND THE PUBLIC HEALTH

This chapter backgrounds Florida’s SWAT organization with a brief overview of historical developments in the U.S. anti-tobacco movement’s framing of tobacco issues, concurrent developments in the state bureaucracy, specifically within the public health community, and the eventual overlap of movement and state tactics in the early 1990s through a state tobacco control programs (in California and a handful of other states) funded with tobacco excise taxes, and in the form of a National Cancer Institute intervention trial called project ASSIST. An emerging consensus on the part of public health authorities and movement activists on what would constitute effective tobacco control strategy provided (as I will argue in Chapter 5) the conceptual basis for Florida’s Tobacco Program and SWAT.

Movement Framings of Tobacco as a Social Problem

Tobacco and smoking have a long history in North America: as a native crop, after its introduction to colonial settlers, and eventually as a manufactured product. After its introduction to settlers by Native Americans in the 1600s, tobacco use became prevalent throughout the new world and Europe (Best 1979; Tate 1999). Tobacco consumption steadily rose in the latter half of the 19th century coinciding with the development if the cigarette in the 1840s, and the development of mechanized cigarette production in the 1880s (USDHHS 2000). With rapid growth in the tobacco market came increasingly vocal and organized opposition to tobacco use on both moral and health grounds.

19th and early 20th Century Movement Framings

The earliest organized anti-tobacco efforts emerged in the middle of the 19th century. Early opposition coalesced into the “anti cigarette movement” (Wagner

21 1997:17) around 1850, and the movement remained active through the 1930s. One movement organization, The American Anti-tobacco Society, was founded in 1849. The nineteenth century movement reflected many of the Victorian social mores of the time. It was often aligned with the temperance (anti-alcohol) movement. One champion was Dr. Harvey Kellog, a popular 19th century health reformer who preached the relatedness of temperance to physical and “spiritual” health (Wagner 1997). Movement activists experienced some successes, along with anti-alcohol activists, in pursuing a prohibition/criminalization strategy. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries many states banned the sale of tobacco to minors and/or criminalized youth possession of tobacco products. Others passed outright bans for minors and adults. Adult bans were generally short lived, but youth bans remained in place. By 1940, 49 of 50 U.S. states (Texas was the holdout) had youth access restrictions in place, although they were widely considered unenforceable and were largely ignored (USDHHS 1989). Despite movement activities, smoking became widespread in the military during World War I, due to a sustained industry promotional campaign that included the distribution of millions of free cigarettes to soldiers overseas (USDHHS 1989). Consumption was widespread and even promoted within the military during WWI and again during WWII (Dillow 1981). Vigorous opposition to tobacco prohibition among WWI veterans has been cited as a factor in the reversal of state and local anti-tobacco legislation during the New Deal period (between 1933 and 1945) (USDHHS 2000). However a bigger factor may have been resistance to framing tobacco use as a public health problem from within the medical community. By the end of the 1930s the medical professions had largely consolidated the authority it lacked 50 years earlier (Starr 1982) and had established jurisdiction over the body regarding all things medical—including tobacco use. But throughout the first half of the 20th century, the medical community failed to link tobacco to disease. Indeed, physicians smoked at higher rates than the general public, and often praised smoking for its purported health benefits (USDHHS 2000). After WWII, prohibition forces waned as early health claims remained unsubstantiated and “moral” arguments, rooted in Victorian Puritanism (Wagner 1997), lost political currency.

22 Only after the publication of the 1964 U.S. Surgeon General’s report that conclusively linked tobacco to cancer and other diseases (which reflected a “new consensus” within the medical community, based on the accumulated findings of decades of research), did the public’s attitudes toward tobacco, smoking, and youth smoking3 begin to shift again, and lay the grounds for a revitalized anti-tobacco movement. On the heels of the 1964 report, a host of grassroots opposition groups arose over the next 30 years, with anti-tobacco agendas ranging from opposition to secondhand smoke to increased funding for biomedical research on links between tobacco use and disease (USDHHS 2000). Many major movement organizations operating today were founded in the late 1960s or 1970s, e.g.: Action on Smoking or Health (ASH), Group Against Smoker’s Pollution (GASP), and American’s for Nonsmoker’s Rights (ANR) (Wolfson 2001). The “new” anti tobacco groups had substantially different conceptions of tobacco as a social problem from their 19th and early 20th century predecessors. In addition to the scientific and medical consensus that had emerged on tobacco’s contribution to several diseases, the new groups were informed by an increasing realization that the tobacco industry deliberately acted to conceal, manipulate, and distort research on tobacco, and used its political influence to stymie governmental reform on tobacco regulation (Hilts 1996). The contemporary anti-tobacco movement’s frame of the social problem of tobacco focused attention accordingly, on the tobacco industry’s malfeasance and government ineffectiveness, rather than on tobacco consumers moral failings.

Contemporary Movement Frames:

The frames of the new anti-tobacco organizations represented an important shift from the temperance based movement against tobacco and the recent anti-tobacco movement in the way the source of the problem was located and named. The nineteenth century activists were on a puritanical moral crusade. They saw tobacco use both as a sin as well as a health risk (Wagner 1997). Consequently, interventions conflated physical health with moral righteousness. Additionally, structural conditions of tobacco use, including its history, cultural iconography, promotion, regulation, and distribution, were largely outside the frame. The problem was generally framed at an individual level and

3 Widespread perception of youth smoking as a social problem was documented through public opinion research as early as 1974 (Neurhing and Markle 1974).

23 at the point of possession or consumption. The resulting definition of tobacco as a social problem was one that dealt mostly with moral deficiencies among tobacco consumers, and a corresponding solution was developed that focused on moral redemption and “temperance”, or failing that, criminalization of a behavior defined as deviant. In contrast, the moral dimension of the contemporary anti-tobacco movement is characterized by its focus on deceptive corporate practices and/or on the need to regulate a harmful product (USDHHS 2000, Hilts 1996, Kessler 2001, Wolfson 2001). This framing casts tobacco as a consumer protection problem. Movement tactics have often involved drawing negative public attention variously to industry practices, the regulatory process, and the influence of tobacco political contributions in government (Givel and Glantz 1999). Specific aims of the anti-tobacco movement include removal of a longstanding federal exemption of tobacco from FDA regulation, which some have argued would spell the end of the industry, as there is no medically safe use for tobacco products (Kessler 2001). By extension, the contemporary anti-tobacco movement frame contains a critique of democracy in late capitalism, by drawing attention to an industry’s ability to evade government regulation through public relations, campaign contributions, and lobbying efforts. In spite of these elements of structural critique, the contemporary anti-tobacco movement frame has been criticized for containing elements that can be considered to be holdovers from the earlier temperance movement. Wagner (1997) sets the contemporary anti-tobacco movement within a larger movement, post-1969, that has renewed focus on personal behavior as a social problem. The drug war, public policy on sex education and sexual abstinence, and anti-tobacco activism are all signs of a “new temperance” movement which Wagner labels the “politics of Puritanism.” Within the present-day constellation of organizations that promote an anti-tobacco agenda, governmental public health agencies have, until recently, confined themselves to Wagner’s “temperance” issues (as I discuss in the next section). Consequently the government’s health education campaigns were not aligned to the contemporary anti- tobacco movement’s collective action frame, which focused on the tobacco industry and on government regulators. Why was this? The “drug war” has been described as a method for social control of the poor and of ethnic minorities through the admixing of

24 moral and medical framings of alcohol use (Orcutt et al. 1977). Is it coincidence that governmental approaches to tobacco control and drug control both focus on the regulation of personal (consumer) behavior? Although Wagner’s critique of anti-tobacco movement framing ignores the movement’s focus on structural issues, it does raise the question of what institutional and organizational ties within the field of public health exist between tobacco prevention and other substance-abuse prevention activity. These institutional and organizational ties have not been examined systematically (and are largely beyond the scope of this paper), but I believe they partly explain the tone of tobacco-control efforts within public health organizations (as opposed to non-governmental anti-tobacco “advocacy” organizations), and especially approaches to tobacco-prevention and cessation.

Public Health Approaches to Tobacco Control

Around the same time the contemporary anti-tobacco movement organizations were being founded, public health authorities were beginning to develop their own approaches to tobacco control. Early research into patterns of smoking uptake had established that smoking was a “pediatric disease”—lifelong consumption patterns were said to set during adolescence (USDHHS 1994). In the 1960s, several school-based health educational campaigns designed to inform young people about the dangers of smoking were developed, funded and implemented by state boards of health and other government agencies. These interventions were based on prevailing health intervention models of the day. Early programs followed simple “information deficit” models. Later, more sophisticated “health belief,” “social learning,” and “stages of change” models were used in program design (USDHHS 2000). Anti-tobacco educational material design increasingly benefited from the recent development of methods used to profile susceptible populations of “at risk” young people. Through risk factor analysis, researchers learned how to identify status markers and patterns of behavior (e.g. “peer pressure” influences associated with increased uptake (McGuire 1964)). More recently, and consistent with an expanding public health intervention repertoire, public health agencies have used mass media based approaches to tobacco

25 education. “Social marketing,” or the use of commercial marketing techniques and formats to promote positive health outcomes, has become an established weapon in the public health arsenal (Ling et al 1992; Andreasen 1995). Since the 1960s, anti-tobacco media campaigns have been financed on a limited basis by public health agencies as well as heart, lung, and cancer societies (USDHHS 2000). Both school-based and media-based anti-tobacco educational efforts on the part of public health authorities have contributed to a social construction or framing of “the problem” at the level of the consumer in terms of healthy lifestyle choices. Health education and social marketing directed at tobacco prevention and cessation both tend to frame tobacco as a problem of individual risk and an issue of health behavior. This stands in contrast to the anti-tobacco movement’s typical construction of the problem as one of production, regulation and consumer protection. After the 1980s, challenges arose from within the public health community to the “health behavior” framing of the tobacco problem.

The Rise of State Activism

In the last decade of the twentieth century, two developments coincided that together changed the landscape of tobacco control. Beginning in 1985 (in Minnesota), under pressure from voters and health lobbying groups, states began to fund large-scale tobacco control programs, mostly through increases to cigarette taxes. These programs often looked to current best-practice prevention strategies—especially models from federal research agencies like the National Cancer Institute. California (1988) Massachusetts (1992), Arizona (1994) and Oregon (1996) followed Minnesota’s lead over the next several years. After 1997, states began to fund large-scale tobacco control programs with settlements won through litigation against the tobacco industry. Then in 1998, Mississippi started the wave of tobacco litigation that culminated in the Master Settlement Agreement of 1999 between the tobacco industry and 46 states, and providing another boost to state tobacco control efforts.4 Many states used a portion of their

4 For accounts of the late 1990s state-lawsuits against the tobacco industry culminating in the MSA, see Pertschuck (2001) and Derthick 2002.

26 settlement to develop comprehensive tobacco control programs modeled after the ones developed in the early part of the decade. The state initiatives coincided with the other significant event of the 1990s: a new scientific consensus for the use of “social” level interventions, including policy advocacy, community mobilization, and mass media. The new approach represented a departure from traditional tobacco prevention efforts, which relied heavily on the provision of health education in school-based settings geared toward individual behavior change. The societal approach to tobacco prevention, in contrast, recognized that the political and economic contexts in which tobacco use may or may not take place are powerful determinants of individuals’ tobacco use. In other words, a person’s decision to smoke is affected by the presence of laws and customs surrounding smoking, as well as the presence of tobacco marketing and promotion. Supporting the public in policy engagement (including tobacco regulation and taxation) and countering tobacco industry marketing were seen as appropriate intervention strategies, given “the understanding that, because individual behavior is affected by social and economic environments, changes in those environments are effective strategies for tobacco control” (Manley et al. 1997). While this all might seem obvious to a sociologist, it was for public health officials a radical shift from the previously existing tobacco prevention regimen.

Federal Initiatives

In 1991, the National Cancer Institute, a branch of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, published “Strategies To Control Tobacco Use In the United States: a blueprint for public health action in the 1990s” (USDHHS 1991) (hereafter called “Blueprint”), which contained much of the newly distilled thinking on tobacco control. Its authors called for an explicitly “sociologic” understanding of tobacco use within the field of public health, one that confronted the tobacco industry and the political system that supported tobacco use. The Blueprint’s foreword contained a direct attack on the industry’s promotional activity, singling out RJR Nabisco’s “Joe camel” campaign as a “particularly outrageous” (1991:vi) example of the industry’s “seductive” “youth- oriented” (1991:vii)promotions. The oppositional and anti-industry tone in the Blueprint is perhaps remarkable, considering its source—a federal agency.

27 While the Blueprint did not call for an end to traditional health education and other interventions directed toward individuals (e.g. cessation interventions), it acknowledged the “…limited success of educational campaigns against smoking” (1991:5) and, moreover, that the “…focus on the individual presumed that the major determinants of smoking behavior are within the individual, a premise that turned out to be faulty” (1991:6) The Blueprint did reference controlled studies suggesting that the “state of the art” tobacco curricula seemed to delay uptake among adolescents, and that the provision of cessation assistance had been shown to increase quit rates among smokers. But the overall message of the Blueprint is that these traditional interventions were outmatched by the tobacco industry’s pull, as evidenced by this comparison: While this Institute [NCI] spent $47 million last year [1990] to develop and disseminate effective anti-smoking intervention technologies, the major cigarette manufacturers spent $3.6 billion in an effort to convince people that smoking is necessary for social acceptance, that it makes one attractive to the opposite sex, and that it enhances self image. …and, increasingly [the Tobacco Industry] appears to be targeting youth (USDHHS 1991:vi). This direct comparison between public health spending and tobacco industry spending, is consistent with the overall tone of the Blueprint in that it frames the problem of tobacco in terms of an “us versus them” opposition, with tobacco companies as the target of public health efforts, not just the products they manufacture. The Blueprint calls for the development of a “comprehensive strategy” that maintains health education and cessation but shifts a major part of public health efforts toward the smoking environment: mass media, public relations, and community mobilization which includes “social action… the grassroots organizing of disadvantaged and disaffected groups who demand change in the social structure” (USDHHS 1991:218). The core of the Blueprint is the announcement and description, and rationale for a seventeen-state eight-year trial, launched in 1991, called The American Stop Smoking Intervention Study, or ASSIST. ASSIST was designed according to the new sociologised understanding of tobacco etiology. It was comprised of three components: “Program services” (including school based curricula and cessation assistance); “Policy” (through

28 community mobilization); and “Mass Media” (USDHHS 1991). Consistent with the value assigned to each intervention area by the NCI, “ASSIST states put the strongest emphasis on public and private policy interventions, and the least emphasis on program services” (Manley et al.1997). The mass media component would be designed to carry out the principles of “media advocacy” or “the strategic use of the mass media to promote public policy initiatives” within the projects (USDHHS 1991). The full description of media advocacy laid out an explicitly political focus. Media advocacy does not attempt to directly change individual smoking behavior but uses the media to promote public debate about the tobacco issue. It shifts attention from smoking solely as an individual problem to the role of public policy in shaping individual choices. Media advocacy stimulates community involvement in defining public policy initiatives that influence the social environment in which consumers make choices about tobacco use” (USDHHS 1991:208). In other words, media advocacy, through the strategic use of both paid and earned media, would work in concert in ASSIST projects with grassroots activists to focus attention on the need for policy changes. The grassroots efforts would in turn be aided through collaboration with existing anti-tobacco advocacy organizations, especially the American Cancer Society (ACS). According to the project’s developers, “ASSIST has been designed as a collaborative effort. The ACS has participated as a full partner in planning and implementation. …using its extensive networks of volunteers, ACS divisions and units are helping to mobilize communities” (Manley et al. 1997). ASSIST became hugely influential over the next several years, both in terms of the study project itself, and also as a model for tobacco interventions in the states. ASSIST was the largest Federally-sponsored tobacco intervention project ever done. Seventeen states received $400,000 each for the first three years of the project and approximately $1.2 million each for the remaining five years (Manley et al 1997; Wolfson 2001)—representing over $120 million to the states over the life of the project. While the overall investment was huge, individual ASSIST projects were limited by the relatively small yearly budgets of around $1 million, a sum too small to carry out large- scale paid-media campaigns. But after 1997, billions of dollars became available for

29 tobacco control through the settlement of state lawsuits and the MSA. ASSIST achieved a greater impact as a model for the emerging tobacco control initiatives in the states, funded though state tobacco taxes and, after 1997, through settlements won against the tobacco industry.

State Programs

In 1988 California voters passed Proposition 99, formally known as the California Tobacco Tax Initiative. The initiative was supported by a coalition of mostly health and medical groups, who raised approximately 1.6 million dollars. The initiative was opposed by the tobacco industry, which spent $21.4 million on a public information campaign in a failed attempt to defeat it (Balbach and Glantz 2000). Proposition 99 dramatically increased the surtax on cigarettes and other tobacco products in California and directed that the revenue be used for tobacco control, medical care and research (Bal et al.1990; Balbach and Glantz 2000). The resulting tobacco control program, funded initially at over 100 million dollars per year, was the first to adopt an ASSIST-type strategy in a state-funded program. California, not one of the 17 ASSIST project sites, actually began its program a year before ASSIST was launched, but project developers at the California Department of Health Services consulted with ASSIST planners at NCI and “chose to develop a tobacco-specific program based on… the NCI model” using “mass media, policy, [and] direct program services” (Balbach and Glantz 2000). Coming after the development of the ASSIST framework, California’s tobacco control program looked very different from Minnesota’s, which had passed a similar tobacco tax increase five years in 1985. The Minnesota program used mass media in the form of “social marketing,” (Tsoukalas and Glantz 2003) rather than media advocacy, and relied heavily on school-based anti-tobacco curricula. Advertising, directed at teenagers, “demonstrated the social undesirability of smoking by using images of youth in non-confrontational settings” (Tsoukalas and Glantz 2003:216). With the exception of “the provision of assistance to employers to comply with Minnesota’s Clean Indoor Air Act,” and the provision of smoking cessation assistance (Tsoukalas and Glantz 2003:216), the Minnesota program focused on the issue of youth smoking. In contrast,

30 and consistent with the ASSIST model, California’s program addressed a full spectrum of tobacco issues and target populations, in sometimes quite confrontational settings. The idea of “social marketing,” or the use of commercial marketing techniques to promote “socially beneficial behaviors,” is widely accepted in the public health community (Coreil et al. 2001:211). Mass media ads for tobacco health promotion have been in use at least since the mid-1960’s in broadcasted health messages by health voluntary associations like the American Cancer Society, American Lung Association, and American Heart Association. Their use was briefly but significantly, boosted in 1967, when the FCC applied its fairness doctrine to broadcast tobacco advertising. This decision required broadcasters to donate airtime to antismoking messages at a ratio of 1:3 to airtime for tobacco advertisements (Pechmann and Reibling 2000; USDHHS 2000). The policy lasted until 1971, when the tobacco industry successfully pushed for legislation banning all tobacco ads on broadcast media, thereby eliminating the antismoking messages (USDHHS 2000). Social marketing in its standard form relies on some version of generally accepted health behavior theory (usually health beliefs or social modeling) that posits an individual oriented behavior change model. In other words, the ads are usually designed to provide information about a health issue or model a healthy lifestyle choice, as in the case of mammography screening promotions or AIDS education. The objective of these ads is to increase healthy behaviors among individuals therefore lowering the incidence of disease in the general population (or among specific target groups). This was the strategy behind the 1985 Minnesota campaign. California’s social marketing was different. It was aimed not at getting people to avoid tobacco use, but rather to critically assess its presence in the environment, including its political, economic, and cultural dimensions. In other words, the campaign was an attempt to de-normalize tobacco. Its first television ad, “Industry Spokesman,” was set in a fictionalized smoke-filled tobacco company executive boardroom and portrayed tobacco executives as ruthless and amoral—preying on youth in an attempt to replace a dying customer base. The anti-industry focus soon became a standard theme. A print ad released around the same time by the California program detailed a longstanding pattern within the industry of denial and manipulation on the dangers of tobacco. According to one analyst, the California program “…was out to raise

31 the temperature around tobacco as an issue… that the tobacco industry was not just another legal industry” (Balbach and Glantz 2000:127). The other key component of the ASSIST model implemented in California was the development of and support for grassroots groups at the local and statewide level who would lobby for tobacco-policy changes, made more popular by the aggressive ads. Synergy between grassroots action and the strategic use of mass media was an emphasis in both the NCI Blueprint and in California. California developed a network of local community coalitions, supported through grants to “local lead agencies,” county and municipal health departments who often collaborated with existing tobacco advocacy groups, including national movement organizations “Americans for Non Smokers Rights” and “Group Against Smoking Pollution” (GASP). These collaborations pushed the health agencies to focus more on policy than they would otherwise have been inclined (see Balbach and Glantz 2000). The combination of a well-funded and oppositional media campaign and aggressive grassroots actions, specified in the ASSIST model, would characterize the California tobacco control program and influence all state-funded campaigns that followed, including Florida’s 1998 Truth and SWAT campaigns. Minnesota’s pre- ASSIST-model program was severely curtailed after 1992 in an atmosphere of successive state budget shortfalls. After their 1999 settlement against the tobacco industry, the state of Minnesota resurrected its anti-tobacco program, but this time, it would be in the form of the youth-led “Target Market,” and it would follow basic principles laid down in the original NCI Blueprint. Other states that launched large state-funded tobacco control programs between 1992 and 1998—including Arizona, Massachusetts, and Oregon, were all ASSIST states. And each used the ASSIST model (to varying degrees) in their state programs. The paradigm shifts in public health approaches to tobacco control represented by ASSIST and California’s Proposition 99 programs were significant, but by no means complete. Both the NCI and California models retained elements of traditional health education for tobacco prevention among adolescents, primarily in school-based settings. Anti-industry themes dominated the media campaigns, but were not exclusive of other themes. Traditional social marketing techniques continued to be employed that

32 reinforced the undesirability of smoking from a health or social-desirability perspective. And local coalitions supported by program dollars continued to engage in non-political, non-confrontational activities, such as cessation support, health provider education, and individual-centered health education. As several commentators have noted, these traditional approaches resurfaced especially in times when more aggressive methods were under attack from the tobacco industry and its allies in state legislatures (Tsoukalas and Glantz 2003; Balbach and Glantz 2000; Trochim et al. 2003; Morley et al. 2002), despite compelling evidence that health education for tobacco prevention is ineffective (Peterson et al. 2000). In contrast, the effectiveness of the new-style tobacco control programs is demonstrable, both in theory (USDHHS 1991; USDHHS 2000) and in practice. Although adequate studies of the full effects of normative interventions are difficult if not impossible to isolate from the social milieu, evaluations of the impact of ASSIST-type programs on overall tobacco consumption levels, on restrictive tobacco policies, and on anti-tobacco attitudes, have consistently supported the idea that tobacco control interventions that use movement tactics work (see for example Stillman et al. 1999; Siegel and Biener 1997; Sly et al. 2001). An admittedly speculative assessment would also have to include these program’s impacts on a broader normative scale, for example on the attitudes of anti-tobacco litigation jury pools, on the enactment of restrictive tobacco use policies around the country, and on the tobacco industry itself, as it is forced to adapt to an increasingly hostile social environment. In spite of the persistence of traditional public health approaches in tobacco control, by 1998, the NCI/ASSIST model was firmly established through the 17 state projects and by several state-funded campaigns, including California. As discussed in Chapter 5, when Florida’s Tobacco Program planners established their state-funded program, in 1998, they sought guidance from successful and authoritative programs like California, other ASSIST project sites, and NCI directly. Florida’s program design reflected this new paradigm. One feature common to most of the state settlements and the Master Settlement has been the creation of well-funded anti-tobacco programs. With few exceptions, most state legislatures have designated a portion of tobacco settlement funds to these programs. In many cases, as in Florida, the bulk of funding for tobacco prevention

33 efforts came from settlement dollars. This situation has created a dilemma for health agencies because all the individual state settlements, as well as the Master Settlement, contain provisions that the funds can be used only for youth focused prevention—a compromise considered necessary for the tobacco industry to accept the settlements (Kessler, 2001). Many states have followed Florida’s example and created special youth anti-tobacco advocacy organizations5 like SWAT. The information presented above places SWAT in the context of a public health system in a period of experimentation and transition regarding public policy on tobacco control and toward the tobacco industry. SWAT (or any of the other “youth advocacy” programs) was not developed within a setting that reflected the gradual accretion of knowledge of health interventions or reflected an uncontested consensus among public health authorities on appropriate models for tobacco control. Rather, it was abruptly realized out of a legal and political settlement between states and the tobacco industry. Without an examination of the actual language used by state officials in developing SWAT, the intent of the state, and particularly the question of whether SWAT was a deliberate attempt on the part of the State of Florida to create an anti-tobacco movement organization, is not readily apparent.

5 Among them: “Target Market” (Minnesota), “R.E.B.E.L.” (New Jersey), “R.A.G.E.”, (South Dakota), “No Limits” (Nebraska), “Get Outraged” (Massachusetts), and “S.W.A.T.” (Oklahoma)—all with start up dates after 1999.

34 CHAPTER 4 METHODS

In this chapter I describe the methods I used to collect and analyze the data for this project. I begin by reporting the four kinds of data that were used and then comment on how I analyzed the first three types and extensively on how I analyzed the fourth type (the group interview data). In the Data Analysis section, I point to some of the limitations of my data, particularly the interview data, but I also note the fruitful uses to which those data can be put. I also offer some thoughts on the issues raised by Burawoy et al. (1991, 1998, 2000) about the challenges of connecting observations of micro-level processes to a wider social context. The preceding discussion (Chapter 3) references the history of tobacco and the rise of the contemporary anti-tobacco movement. This is a macro-sociological issue, yet this study’s subject is micro-sociological, almost social psychology; being concerned with meaning, emotion, and processes of identity formation within a tobacco prevention youth group. What does individual meaning have to do with state-movement dynamics? And how, without resorting to determinism, does one describe their relationship? The goal of this study was to inductively generate concepts useful for describing and understanding particular state-movement dynamics through a case study of Florida’s Students Working Against Tobacco. Because the object of the study involves relations between macro-sociological changes (including state-created youth movements and political “regime changes”) and micro-sociological phenomena (e.g. collective identity formation; institutionalized practice), the extended case method is appropriate. The current project is an “extended case method” study (Burawoy 1991) because I’m using predominantly ethno-methods to explore issues that derive much of their meaning from large-scale structural conditions, but are not determined by those conditions. Additionally, I am interested in the possible consequences for large-scale structural conditions of micro-processes of identity formation and negotiation.

35 Procedures of Data Collection

Data for this study are from a variety of sources, consistent with the intent to develop a comprehensive account of SWAT—describing its history, formal organization, and political and social context, as well as the experiences of its youth participants. Detailed descriptions of the data are organized in four parts: Participant Observation, Official Documents, News Media Sources, and Focus Group Interview Data. I describe in detail how I collected data of each type and the general uses that I made of the data. The subsequent section on Data Analysis Methods will present a more detailed account of how I analyzed the data.

Participant Observation

I was employed by the University of Miami (U.M.) between September 2000 and June 2003, as a member of a research team under contract with the Florida Department of Health. The unit was contracted to develop program evaluations of the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program. I was assigned to work inside the Tobacco Program office in Tallahassee, initially to assist staff and SWAT youth in the interpretation and use of evaluation results for program development. After a year, I was joined by a U.M. colleague, Dr. Tim Buehner, and my responsibilities were increased to include conducting evaluation research and assisting Tobacco Program planning efforts. My job afforded me opportunities to collect data in the form of participant observation. Though their utility is limited somewhat through inconsistent preparation of field notes, I use my observation notes to supplement and provide context for analysis of my archival data. Between 2000 and 2003, I attended twelve statewide SWAT Board of Directors (BOD) meetings, as well as three annual “Teen Tobacco Summits” (numbers four through six). Both were retreat-style meetings that brought together SWAT youth and program staffers, usually at large hotels with conference facilities. BOD meetings, held quarterly, included the 67 SWAT county representatives, county and state tobacco program staffers. They resembled corporate business meetings in that SWAT BOD members discussed issues among themselves in formal sessions governed by parliamentary procedure. These sessions which lasted two or three hours over the course

36 of the weekend-long meetings were attended also by two or three tobacco program staff (but not by me). The rest of the meeting time was devoted to workshops and presentations for BOD members organized by tobacco program staff and authorized by the eleven-member BOD “executive committee.” A parallel track of presentations and workshops was held for county staffers (which I often attended). I often presented or conducted at one or more of the latter, sometimes to youth, sometimes to staffers, and wandered in and out of other sessions during the weekend, except in the “closed” SWAT business meetings mentioned above. Beginning in 2002, groups of BOD members were organized into six themed committees corresponding to program component areas within the tobacco program office. As the contracted evaluation consultant to the tobacco program, I was made “staff liaison” to the SWAT Research and Evaluation Committee. Working with this eight to eleven member committee, the “REC-ing Crew,” as we called ourselves, in hour-long sessions at subsequent BOD meetings and on conference calls, I had additional opportunity to observe and understand the nature of SWAT BOD membership. Annual Teen Tobacco Summits included the BOD youth and staffers and between four and eight additional SWAT youth from each county. Summits, usually including around 500 to 600 youth, were held at the end of the fiscal-year and served the important function of the formal selection of next-year’s BOD; that is, the BOD was selected from among (and voted in by) summit attendees. The rest of the usually three-day summit, which consumed months of staff and BOD member’s planning time each year, was part- seminar and part-celebration. Entertainment at Teen Summits was usually tightly choreographed, and involved professional musical acts, comedians, and on two occasions, a hypnotist. Summits were also occasions where the SWAT organization’s “message” in terms of symbols, slogans, and rhetoric, was broadcast to relatively large assemblies of SWAT youth and sometimes to the media. They were more “public” than the BOD meetings.

Official Documents

Official documents refer to a variety of materials: some entirely internal to the program, i.e. written by (or for) staff, for use by staff, usually of the nature of

37 planning or evaluation documents (including University of Miami internal evaluation reports discussed above); documents by (or for) staff for use by SWAT members— including training guides and meeting packets; and documents by (or for) staff for public consumption, including promotional materials and advertisements. These types of internally generated documents are used to establish how the tobacco program defined and presented itself to staff, SWAT members, and the public, and how constructions of the program changed over time. External “official documents” that bear on the tobacco program’s existence include the legal settlement establishing the tobacco program’s source of funds, and statutory and appropriations language setting out the tobacco program’s mandate and funding levels over time. These are used to show the state’s role in creating the tobacco program and subsequent level of support for the program. Internal documents include program planning documents; program evaluation reports written by staff (sometimes by me, more often by others); a series of monthly “internal evaluation reports” prepared by myself and a University of Miami colleague between October 2001 and March 2003 and dealing with internal functioning and performance issues in the Tallahassee program office; and two annual U.M. internal evaluation summary reports (FY 2001-02 and FY 2002-03) which represent and assess issues identified in the monthly reports. Other archival materials used included brochures, pamphlets, and other materials developed by the tobacco program for public consumption as well as program materials (program plans, training guides, meeting minutes, and reports) for internal staff and SWAT member use. Non-program-generated documents used included legal documents (Florida’s settlement with the tobacco industry, state budget appropriations, state statues). A numbered list of documents used in the study is presented in Appendix B. Documents cited in the text are referenced according to the number (e.g. “Doc. 1”) that corresponds to the number in Appendix B.

News Media Sources

Newspaper coverage of SWAT and related tobacco control issues from 1990 to 2003 (listed in Appendix A) provides evidence for the setting of the SWAT organization. I collected over a hundred journalistic accounts on the topic of SWAT or the Florida

38 Tobacco Control Program. Several report specific aspects of the program’s founding or report political issues. Journalistic accounts of the tobacco program and SWAT were gathered in May 2003 using two electronic news databases: Newsbank and Lexus-Nexus. The Lexus-Nexus database focuses on major regional and national papers, including the New York Times, The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, The St. Petersburg Times, The Tampa Tribune, and the Miami Herald. Newsbank archives smaller-market papers in Florida, including: Bradenton Herald, Florida Times Union (post 1995), Orlando Sentinel, Palm Beach Post, Sun-Sentinel, and the Tallahassee Democrat (post 1993). Pertinent articles from 1990-1997 were found using keywords “Florida” and (“tobacco” or “cigaret*”). Articles from 1998-2003 were pulled using keywords “tobacco” and (“students working against” or “truth”). Over 400 newspaper articles resulted from the combined searches. After review, I deemed 181 pertinent to my research (see Appendix A). This journalism resource served an important purpose in the research by facilitating the development of a chronology of key events in the program’s history and especially pre-history. It also showed the impact of the tobacco program and SWAT on the media in terms of media coverage and how that changed over time.

Focus Groups:

Dr. Tim Buehner and I collected the focus group data in March 2001 in the course of a contracted program evaluation by the University of Miami on behalf of the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program. Human subjects approval for the use of this data in the current study was granted by Florida State University (see Appendix D). Each group ran approximately an hour. Two focus groups were conducted in each of five counties and two at a statewide meeting of SWAT. There were from four to eight participants in each group, N=86 respondents. Participants, who ranged in age from 12-18 years old, were fairly evenly divided as to gender. Although they were not asked to self-identify their ethnicity, participants represented several racial and ethnic groups including Caucasian, African-American, Asian-American, and Hispanic. No attempts were made to control the age, gender or ethnic composition of the groups. Table 4.1 (below) shows characteristics of each of the twelve focus groups. Names of counties (e.g. “Gator”, “Urbana”, etc.) are all pseudonyms.

39 Table 4.1. SWAT Member Characteristics by Interview Group #, Name, and area of Demographic Years in State composition Age* SWAT

Statewide organization: 1. Board of Directors A 4 White girls Range 13-18 Range 2-3 (from seven counties) 2 AA boys Mean 16.4 Mean 2.9 1 Hispanic boy 2. Board of Directors B 4 White girls Range 15-18 Range 2-3 (from eight counties) 3 AA Girls Mean 17.1 Mean 2.9 1 Asian Girl

County (local) organization: 3. Gator A (northeast) 2 White girls Range 16-18 Range 2.2 4 White boys Mean 17.1 Mean 2.3 1 AA girl 3. Gator B (northeast) 1 White girl Range 15-17 Range 1-3 2 White boys Mean 16.5 Mean 2.2 1 AA girl 5. Panhandle A (north central) 5 White girls Range 13-18 Range 1-3 1 White boys Mean 15.8 Mean 1.5 6. Panhandle B (north central) 4 White girls Range 13-17 Range 0-3 2 White boys Mean 14.2 Mean 1.0 7. Roma A (southwest) 1 White girl Range 15-17 Range 0-3 1 White boy Mean 15.3 Mean 1.3 3 AA girls 1 Hispanic girl 8. Roma B (southwest) 1 White boy Range 15-18 Range 0-1 6 AA boys Mean 16.4 Mean 0.3 1 Hispanic boy 9. Urbana A (central) 4 White girls Range 13-18 Range 1-3 2 AA boys Mean 15.0 Mean1.7 2 Hispanic girls 1 Hispanic boy 10. Urbana B (central) 4 White girls Range 14-18 Range 1-3 2 White boys Mean 15.9 Mean 1.5 1 AA boy 11. Seashore (northwest) 4 White girls Range 13-18 Range 0-3 2 White boys Mean 15.3 Mean 1.5 1 AA girl 2 AA boys 12. Seashore (northwest) 3 White girls Range 12-18 Range 1-3 2 AA girls Mean 14.8 Mean 1.2 4 AA boys Summary (n=86) 36 White girls Range 12-18 Range 0-3 15 White boys Mean 15.6 Mean 1.7 17 AA boys 11 AA girls 4 Hispanic boys 2 Hispanic girls 1 Asian girl *For some youth, age was estimated based on reported grade level in school.

40 SWAT sponsors (that is, adults employed by the Tobacco Program) within each county recruited focus group participants. The participants were probably selected to include those who were more active members in SWAT. The length of their memberships in SWAT varied from less than a year to four years, the date of the program’s inception. Participants reflected a range of experiences depending at least in part on the length of time they had been involved in the program. Five counties plus the BOD were selected as sites for interviews, with two interviews in each county, sometimes in the same location, sometimes at two different sites within the county. Table 4.2 shows the study sites and their constituent interviews.

Table 4.2. Study sites Site name Comprised Representing N of 1. BOD BOD A The 67 member SWAT Board of Directors 15 BOD B 2. Gator Gator A Gator county SWAT, a rural county –multiple 11 Gator B high school teams 3. Panhandle 1 Panhandle A A SWAT team in an urban coastal community in 6 Panhandle County—multiple high and middle school teams 4. Panhandle 2 Panhandle B A SWAT team in a rural community in 6 Panhandle County—multiple high and middle school teams 5. Roma 1 Roma A A SWAT team in an urban coastal community 6 within Roma County—multiple high and middle school teams 6. Roma 2 Roma B A SWAT team at a rural juvenile detention 8 facility in Roma county 7. Urbana Urbana A Urbana county SWAT, a densely urban county 16 Urbana B —multiple high and middle school teams 8. Seashore Seashore A Seashore county SWAT, a moderately urban 18 Seashore B county —multiple high and middle school teams

The semi-structured interview schedule was modified over the course of the collection in an attempt to respond to the respondents. The interview questions were designed to explore the following research questions (following Buehner et al. 2001): 1) For what major reasons do youth join SWAT and remain SWAT members? 2) What

41 level of responsibility or control over SWAT and Partnership activities do youth have, and are the youth satisfied that this level is appropriate? 3) How are youth and adult responsibilities and control managed within the county and local-level Tobacco Program? Table 4.3 is a list of questions used by interviewers to guide group discussion during the interviews. While the actual interviews went beyond this list of questions, we made an effort to cover this list each time.

Table 4.3. SWAT focus group interview questions 1 Why did you join SWAT? 2 Why do you stay (what keeps you involved)? 3 Has SWAT lived up to your expectations? 4 What is SWAT (what does SWAT do)? 5 What do you do in SWAT (what are the “important” things, in your opinion)? 6 How does your County’s SWAT work (describe it)? 7 Does SWAT impact adults, youth, or both (how)? What can you tell us about the county’s partnership (what is it, how does it work, have you 8 been to a partnership meeting, what was it like, etc.)? 9 Has SWAT changed over time (how)?

As the issues raised by the above questions arose, and were explored in the course of group discussion, they led to a broader discussion that included many aspects of the youth’s experiences with SWAT, their general orientation toward the organization, and their personal histories, motivations, and attitudes. The focus groups were deliberately open ended, so as to enrich the data obtained and capture as much as possible the youth’s “voice” or point of view. Each group was questioned about motivations for joining SWAT, conceptions of SWAT, and what they “got” out of participating.

Procedures of Data Analysis

Burawoy (1991, 1998, 2000) argues that the difficulty in locating micro- sociological phenomenon within macro-sociological structures gives rise to a particular

42 methodological dilemma: “One tendency is toward extreme relativism, in which there is no real world but only a multiplicity of situationally situated perspectives. The other tendency seeks invariant properties that make social interaction possible…” (1991:276)6. Burawoy wants to bridge these two extremes, and by doing so, shine light on the nature of the relationship between agency and social structure. He calls the approach the extended case method because, while it employs many of the fieldwork and data collection strategies of the case study, it represents a contrast to traditional ethnomethodology in the nature of the questions posed by the researcher; rather than attempt to describe a cultural practice in isolation, the extended case method seeks to locate micro-practices within overarching social structure, and thereby to illuminate both. Burawoy’s method does not suggest a plan of action for data analysis but rather a conceptual frame for that can guide a researcher’s choice of questions and point to a mix of data sources appropriate to the questions posed. The four types of data used in the study were analyzed in different ways. Participant observations and both types of archival materials informed my account of the history of the SWAT organization, presented in Chapter 5. Documents and news accounts were used, to the extent they were available, to “back up” (or challenge) my version of events, which were grounded in my first hand experiences and observations. They were mined for pertinent information, which I present in support of an argument I make about the appropriateness of the label “social movement organization” applied to SWAT. The focus groups were subjected to relatively rigorous sophisticated qualitative analysis, which I discuss below.

Focus Group Comparisons and the Unit of Analysis

I have chosen to treat the site of the interview as the unit of analysis, grouping pairs of interviews where warranted, and splitting interview pairs in other cases. The distribution of the interviews across different sites presented a methodological problem. Two interview groups at each site were presumably drawn from a common pool of potential interviewees. However, in the case of two counties, Panhandle, and Roma (both

6 This dilemma is a more specific form of the phenomenalism/positivism debate within social theory, which is a core problem of sociology, and too complicated to discuss here.

43 coastal counties), the interviews were split between different sites within the county, and so were presumably drawn from different populations of SWAT youth. This means a comparative analysis of interviews would fail to efficiently capture variation from site to site, because the four pairs of back-to back interviews (the non- Roma non-Panhandle interviews) would not be expected to vary within the pairs in a way that reflected differences between sites. Comparative analysis of counties, on the other hand (grouping interview pairs by county and grouping the two BOD interviews) would mask differences in the two split-interview counties, Roma and Panhandle. Comparative analysis between sites, including possible effects of gender and race on SWAT experiences, is somewhat limited due to several peculiarities of the sites. First, site 1, the Board of Directors (or BOD) as the leadership group could be expected to have different experiences as SWAT members from youth at other sites. Sites 3-6 are single- interview sites and therefore have smaller Ns. Site 3 (Panhandle 1) and site 6 (Roma 2) are distinguished by their location. Both sites are geographic outliers—away from staff who would be based at the county health department (usually located in the county seat). Sites 2 and 6 (Gator and Roma 2) are comprised entirely of high-school aged youth, while the other sites are mixed high and middle school youth. For these reasons, I have not attempted to include systematic analysis of possible effects of race, gender, age or other demographic characteristics on between-group differences. On the other hand, these eight sites represent the maximum possible diversity of experiences within SWAT, ranging not only in terms of gender and ethnicity, but also age, time in SWAT, urban/rural, level of participation (BOD, county, school teams) and geographical location. This dissimilarity of study sites facilitates collection of rich qualitative data on the extent of variability in the youth’s experiences within the organization even as it limits comparative analysis.

Coding the Focus Group Data

The analysis of the focus group data followed guidelines for analysis of qualitative data as outlined in Turner (1981) and Martin and Turner (1986). Using the qualitative analysis software “Atlas Ti,” I identified and thematically linked concepts that “emerged” from the data. Codes were applied iteratively and in an overlapping fashion,

44 until saturation was achieved. Concepts were further developed using a method of “constant comparison” (Martin and Turner 1986), in which data were sifted and arranged thematically, then bridged to show relationships between themes. I used concepts generated in early stages of analysis to guide later stages of analysis. Table 4.4 presents my list of codes developed early in the analytic process and the number of corresponding “hits” or coded segments of focus group transcripts.

Table 4.4 Initial analytic codes joined for social action 3 Code Totals joined--pushed into SWAT 14 ACS ALA etc activities 8 joined for youth empowerment 2 active v. passive participation 5 off topic digressions 7 activity--community health education 6 lack of control issues 7 activity--unclear message 24 lack of statewide direction issues 19 activity--anti-industry PR 11 learning the SWAT line 14 activity--elementary/peer health ed 37 maintaining SWAT over time 42 activity--policy 33 “manipulate*” mention 25 activity--pro-SWAT P.R. 14 expression of moral outrage 8 activity--recruiting 17 lack of motivation issues 48 activity--smoke free dining/schools/etc 7 nature of “the problem” 21 advisor backgrounds 3 nature of “the solution” 35 anti-industry message 2 origin of SWAT account 6 Chiles mention 5 ownership and/or control issues 71 are they just confused? 38 parental support of SWAT 5 association with other youth-programs 14 “peer pressure” mention 6 “big tobacco” mention 27 persuading someone to quit 17 BOD v. county experiences 20 purpose-of-SWAT accounts 55 “Chiles” reference 5 put your money where your mouth is 6 collaborating prevention/health groups 16 reactions from “outsiders” to SWAT 51 competing commitments 19 resume polishing 10 county advisors 70 worthwhile-ness of “the cause” 25 county partnerships 57 slogan use 29 decline or devolution 12 statewide advocacy initiative 2 “empower*” mention 47 SWAT smoker 6 experiences with smoking 4 SWAT v. other clubs 26 family members tobacco use 14 SWAT vs DARE 4 first summit 6 tobacco company/industry mention 49 formal county SWAT organization 26 tobacco factoid (frame articulation) 14 inter-county networks 11 truth ads 22 Intrinsic benefits 87 truth Train 11 joined--unclear 35 what 'I' do in SWAT 22 joined because ‘i'm a joiner’ 6 within county coordination issues 4 joined due to health effects 16 Totals 1817

The codes in Table 4.4 facilitated the development of analytic concepts used in Chapter 6 by identifying, sorting, locating and quantifying themes and issues raised over the course of the twelve focus group interviews. In some cases, for example in mentions of SWAT activities, the codes made it possible to perform quantitative comparisons. In other cases, the codes focused my attention on particular themes that were developed in analytic memos and eventually into the findings reported in Chapter 6. While some codes occur more often than others in the data, this is no indication of their importance as concepts. Some codes are interesting because of their lack of frequency in the data, for example, in the hundreds of transcribed pages of the youths accounts of SWAT, only five times was Governor Chiles, the program’s founder, mentioned. This suggested to me that institutional memory within the organization deserved a closer look. Other codes are interesting because they appear in clusters—in certain groups but not others. For example, the word “empowerment,” which is used in SWAT official documents, is used by focus group youth 47 times, but forty of those utterances were at a single site (Urbana County). The coding process led me to explore the content of the focus groups in layers. I was occasionally struck by the patterns emerging from the data while coding, and would stop to add a code that captured a new concept or revise an existing code to reflect an emerging pattern. In this way, the eight types of SWAT activity codes were developed. At other points in the coding process when I began to see a pattern in the data, I stopped to develop an analytic memo (Turner 1981) that captured my thoughts. I ended up with 30 of these memos, some only a sentence, but some several paragraphs long. Twenty- two memos are concerned with unique characteristics of particular sites, and the remaining eight explore issues that appear across sites. Several of these memos became starting points for findings reported in Chapter 6.

Analyzing Emotional Content in the Focus Group Data

Throughout the focus group analysis I coded emotives (defined below) uttered by SWAT youth, particularly those related to emotions of protest, in order to identify emotional aspects of the youth’s participation in the organization. I then looked to see under what conditions emotional states associated with participation in social movements

46 were expressed by the youth in order to test the hypothesis that participation in social movement organizations produces emotions of protest (Jasper 1998), and to test the hypothesis that SWAT contributed to the anti-tobacco movement only when and where emotions of protest were present. The study of emotions raises methodological problems. One is that emotions are presumably inner states and therefore not subject to direct observation (Austin 1975). The second is that emotional expression can involve many things other than words, including timing, tone, pitch, and gestures7. A recent theoretical contribution from anthropology offers a solution to both problems. Reddy (1997) argues that the problem of observing emotions as “inner states” is a pseudo problem if the study is concerned with the ways in which emotions impact social life. “Emotional expressions” also called “emotives” are “an effort by the speaker to offer an interpretation of something that is observable to no other actor” (1997:331). If emotions are feelings, emotives are the expressions of those feelings through the use of language, specifically through constructions that explicitly describe emotional states or attitudes. Being sad is an emotion; saying “I am sad” is an emotive. As such, emotives are different from emotions, not necessarily reflective of inner states of emotion because the act of uttering the emotive provides an external reference for the speaker to assess, transform, and create their own emotions. Emotions are inner states: emotives are created and exist externally in social settings. Ultimately, expressed emotions, i.e. emotives, may be more important than inner states of emotions in constructing a social reality. Reddy’s unit-of-analysis shift from emotions to emotives reminds us about what is interesting to social scientists about emotions in the first place—their social and communicative aspects—and offers a neat sidestep around a vexing methodological problem. Reddy’s contribution makes it possible to rely on primarily textual data for the study of emotion, at least in limited contexts. As stated above, emotives are the speaker’s attempt to “interpret” for an audience and for themselves their inner state of emotion. The speaker’s goal is communication (1997:332). In the context of social movement

7 Gordon (1990) delineated four separate types of non-verbal communication that are potential elements of interview data involving 1) the physical proximity of the interviewee to the researcher 2) the pacing or timing of speech 3) body movements including gestures and 4) variations in volume, pitch, and tone.

47 activity, communication is facilitated by the nature and focus of the movement’s emotional repertoire. The moral outrage an environmental protestor feels toward a polluter is different from anger generated by a stubbed toe. As Goodwin et al. assert “some emotions are more constructed than others, involving more cognitive processing” (2001:13). Emotions of protest, (including especially moral outrage) directed at the target of social movement activity is a special case of emotion, and should, according to the authors, contain emotives that are relatively verbalized (Goodwin et al 2001:13, see also Jasper 1997).

Summary

Data were collected on the SWAT organization through participant observation, program documents, journalistic accounts, and twelve focus groups of SWAT youth. Observation, supplemented with archival data, was used to compile a history of SWAT and to identify key events that both preceded and shaped the organization (reported in Chapter 5). The focus group data were analyzed using qualitative analysis methods described by Turner (1981) and Martin and Turner (1986), The method facilitated development of a rich description of the SWAT youths’ experiences in the organization, spanning a diverse range of issues, from the activities the engaged in to their emotional states. The study is conceived as an extended case following Burawoy (1991, 1998, 200) In this study, the extended case method was used to relate institutional forces and developments specific to SWAT, as a statewide tobacco prevention program, to shared experiences and constructed meanings among program participants, including emotional aspects.

48 CHAPTER 5 A BRIEF HISTORY OF SWAT

In this chapter I identify key events in the history of and describe changes to the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program (FTPP) in the period from 1997 through 20038, covering the year prior to the program’s formal launch in 1998, to its effective demise through budget cuts in the Spring of 2003. I show that FTPP, and its youth component, Students Working Against Tobacco (SWAT) were conceived as a state supported anti-tobacco movement organization with a well-funded media arm known as TRUTH, and that regime change in the Florida State Government from a Democratic to a Republican administration precipitated internal changes to the program that changed the SWAT organization such that it was no longer a viable player in the anti-tobacco movement in Florida. Findings reported in this chapter include identification of the circumstances of the FTPP’s development and the origin of the SWAT organization, including evidence of its status as a state-sponsored social movement organization. I also report key events of Fall 1998 that led to changes in the program, including the regime change in state government, threats of de-funding, a protest by SWAT youth, and the firing of the Program Director. I identify changes made internally to the FTPP and SWAT over a period of several months following the Program Director’s firing, including a purge of youth staffers, SWAT’s loss of control of the TRUTH campaign, and a de-emphasis of the program’s policy aims in favor of anti-tobacco education. Lastly I describe bureaucratic actions and inactions on the part of program administrators that encouraged SWAT’s slide toward irrelevance as an anti-tobacco movement organization and its loss of funding in the period from 1999 to 2003. While this study is primarily concerned with SWAT, as its title suggests, this chapter focuses on the relationship between SWAT and the governmental bureau that provided a home for SWAT—the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program (FTPP or Tobacco Program). It also focuses attention on the political climate surrounding the program, and

8 For a chronology of key events relative to the Tobacco Program, including the period of program operation (1997-2003), see Appendix C.

49 decisions made within the bureaucracy. The FTPP, located for most of its existence within a division of the Florida Department of Health, controlled funding designated for SWAT activities, provided staff to manage SWAT and other tobacco program efforts, and generally represented the State in its relationship to the SWAT youth. On the student side, this chapter is concerned principally with those youth in closest contact with program staff—the SWAT Board of Directors (BOD) and Executive Committee. The BOD consisted of 67 members, one representative from each county in Florida. The Executive Committee was an eight to eleven member body elected from among the BOD. This chapter traces developments to the tobacco program and SWAT that occurred mostly at the top of the organization’s hierarchy.

Successful Anti-tobacco Litigation

The circumstances that led to the development of SWAT are rooted in a confluence between an evolving understanding of the nature of tobacco as a social problem leading to the development of NCI ASSIST type community-based approaches to tobacco control, and the success of a novel legal challenge by several State’s Attorneys General that secured an influx of funds for state tobacco control efforts in the late 1990s. Up until 1997, and in spite of a history of lawsuits dating back to the 1950s, the tobacco industry had never paid anything in damages due to product liability, either through settlement or court verdict (Wolfson 2001). This record of wins was broken first in State of Florida v. Lorillard et al. ($11 billion), and soon after in Mississippi ($3.4 billion), Minnesota ($14 billion), and Texas ($6 billion). The Master Settlement Agreement (MSA) with the remaining 46 states followed in 1998 (for $206 billion dollars). In addition to the state suits, several individual and class-action cases were settled or won after Florida, including notably an action by a group of flight attendants (settled for $300 million), and the “Engle” case, brought by an individual smoker (won $144 billion, currently on appeal). The settlement between the State of Florida and the five major tobacco manufacturers, that provided the funding source and the mandate for what would become SWAT and Truth, was signed on August 25, 1997. Section B Paragraph 2 of the

50 settlement set aside $200 million of the initial payment for the establishment of a “Pilot Program”: “…the elements of which shall be aimed specifically at the reduction of the use of Tobacco Products by persons under the age of 18 years.” This clause of the settlement provided the initial authority for the establishment of the FTPP, and the Florida Legislature appropriated $20 million dollars, in a mid-term budget amendment, to launch the program. The FTPP would be formally written into statute the following spring (Doc. 30). The settlements in the late 1990s between states and the tobacco industry dramatically increased the amount of money available for tobacco prevention and control, even though only a small fraction of the money was used for these purposes nationwide (Through 2003, Florida has used about 10 percent of its annual tobacco settlement payments on tobacco prevention programs; nationally, states have used an average of about four percent per year). While they are a small slice of the pie, many state tobacco control budgets got an enormous boost over pre-settlement spending levels. Prior to 1997, Florida’s tobacco control budget was running about $1.5 million (half coming from a CDC grant and half from a state match), or, about 1/20th of average post-settlement budgets. Florida public health agencies, along with those of several other states, were suddenly cash-rich due to tobacco settlements. This led to a scramble to develop and implement new tobacco control programs and interventions. Florida was the first to settle and the first to deal with the problem of spending the settlement. Florida solved this problem by developing, as I will show in the section below, a large-scale community-based intervention plan that applied the basic outline developed as the “NCI ASSIST” model (discussed in Chapter 3). The new money essentially served to blast through institutional treacle within the health agencies in Florida, which were, like state-sponsored programs in most states, limited in scope and using health education models at least 20 years out of date. As one of the first to win a large settlement from the tobacco industry, and the first to apply a portion of its settlement toward a comprehensive tobacco-prevention program, Florida became a model for settlement-funded anti-tobacco programs in other states.

51 Development of the “Florida Model”

After the upheaval that occurred within the FTPP a year after its launch, and consequent changes to the nature of the program (the subject of this chapter), details of the program’s original configuration were either deliberately cloaked or lost through poor record keeping. Program administrators in the period from 1999 through 2003 had an interest in managing the program’s origin story so as to minimize the disconnect that existed from the program’s original (1998) design. The version I offer below is an attempt to reconstruct the likely course of program development in 1997 and 1998. It differs from others’ accounts, including the “official” story of program development told to SWAT youth, but I believe it more accurately captures key facts. Very little information was saved within the Tobacco Program office concerning theoretical models or guiding visions program developers may have used. In the official story, The FTPP, the SWAT organization, and the Truth ad campaign were wholly original and without precedent. They sprang from the Governor’s vision and the youth’s creativity (Doc. 5). However, a model for Florida’s new program did exist and was accessed by program developers in Florida. In a videotaped presentation to FTPP staffers recorded July 15, 1998, Chuck Wolfe (director of the FTPP from its launch in 1998 until the beginning of the Bush administration in 1999), mentioned looking for models of successful anti-tobacco programs as part of the FTPP development process (Doc. 48). The previous year Wolfe had consulted with tobacco control experts from the National Cancer Institute (NCI) and traveled to four states, California, Arizona, Oregon, and Massachusetts, and conducted “formal interviews” with representatives of each state’s tobacco control program (Doc. 23:6). His presentation highlighted two states: California, for its overall effectiveness, and Massachusetts, for its focus on youth (Doc. 48). As the proto-NCI-model state, California had the first state tobacco control program (discussed in Chapter 2) to employ both anti-tobacco-industry media messages and community mobilization for tobacco policy changes. Massachusetts, an NCI ASSIST project site, was the first state to give their NCI-model program an exclusively youth focus. Launched in 1993, five years before Florida’s Truth campaign, Massachusetts titled its anti-industry themed ads “the Truth about Tobacco.” To

52 Florida’s tobacco program developers, both states offered unambiguous models that combined anti-tobacco-industry “counter marketing” ads with an aggressive policy agenda and school-based interventions. The final form of the FTPP reflected the NCI ASSIST model and fit the professional backgrounds of its developers. Immediately after the settlement was signed a team was assembled from among Governor Chiles’ executive staff and assigned to develop the settlement’s required “Pilot Program.” Among them was Chuck Wolfe, Director of the Governor’s office of External Affairs, who would lead the program and issue the first round of local partnership funds, and Peter Mitchell, a policy coordinator for the Florida Senate, who would be in charge of the marketing component. They developed the framework for what would become the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program (FTPP). Wolfe had worked in grassroots organizing for political campaigns, and Mitchell had experience in media and marketing. In the fall of 1997 they consulted with Dr. Mae Waters, at the Florida Department of Education, on tobacco educational curricula and training, and also with Tania Pendarakis, at the Florida Department of Business and Professional Regulation, on enforcement issues. Both had become part of the program’s staff by Spring 1998 (Doc. 19). Archives of early program documents show that at this point the nascent FTPP appears to follow the NCI ASSIST model closely, that is; policy involvement (through community action), media, and direct services (Doc. 19; Doc 20). The “enforcement component” furthered the community action strategy by coordinating youth underage tobacco buys or “sting operations” (Doc 20). A November 1997 forum of program developers, tobacco-control groups, state agencies, and youth produced several policy objectives for the program, including an increase in the tobacco excise tax, removal of pre-emption language in existing clean air legislation, tougher restrictions on outdoor smoking in certain public places, and a prohibition on “the use of tax dollars for facilities that allow smoking” (Doc. 50:3). The agenda included policy issues that did not require legislative action, such as “Rewarding restaurants that are smoke-free,” but much of the policy agenda implied community action or lobbying directed at state policymakers—remarkable for a state funded program. The list of forum attendees attests to the mandate for change that the new program appeared to hold. It included the Florida Senate President, Toni Jennings, as

53 well as representatives from five state agencies, along with the health voluntaries (Heart, Lung and Cancer Associations), the CDC, and representatives of thirteen existing Florida county-based anti-tobacco movement organizations. In December 1997, the team issued an open Invitation To Negotiate (ITN) for an ad firm to “develop and implement a comprehensive marketing and communications program that will work in conjunction with other initiatives within the pilot program” (Doc. 20:1). Among the responsibilities listed in the ITN, the winning firm would be expected to “…demonstrate a commitment to fully integrating youth into the entire campaign, from development to final product. It is envisioned that the campaign would involve young people as full team members to help encourage a sustained youth movement” (Doc. 20:1). The ITN demonstrates that FTPP developers had intentions to create a tobacco movement organization. An account of the emerging tobacco program, published two months before SWAT would be founded, summarized the intent of the developers: “[Governor] Chiles envisions advertising as one element of a comprehensive public relations and public health campaign. He wants to organize young people to fight tobacco” (Albright, St. Petersburg Times, 1998). Taken together, the language of the ITN, and the report of the 1997 forum, what emerges is intent on the part of State Officials to mobilize youth and fund an organized effort to change state tobacco policy. SWAT’s official founding occurred at the Governors Teen Summit, April 29-May 2 1998, at the Greenelefe Resort near Tampa, Florida. The approximately 600 middle and high school student participants were drawn from every one of Florida’s 67 counties. Exact selection criteria for the youth are unknown but several attendees were sons or daughters of county health department personnel. The Florida chapter of the American Cancer Society was also involved in recruiting youth. At the summit, the youth organized themselves into SWAT, and chose the name “Truth” for the ad campaign that was presented to them by the ad agency Crispin Porter & Bogusky (the agency’s place- holder name for the ad campaign was “Rage”, which the youth rejected). At least two “Truth” television commercials featuring SWAT attendees were “co-produced” by SWAT youth and Crispin Porter & Bogusky at the summit (Doc. 49:2). These would be broadcast over the next few months along with other “Truth Campaign” anti-tobacco ads. These first ads established a principle of youth control over the campaign and a principle

54 that the ads should be the public face of the youth movement: “Youth should represent themselves in advertising, using adults as a silent partner” (Doc. 49:5). As Governor Chiles, who attended the summit, was quoted: “This is their campaign” (Doc 49:1). The first summit established two other facets of the SWAT organization in addition to the Truth campaign: a policy agenda, and a need for youth to develop their own anti-tobacco curriculum. The policy focus was already a part of the Tobacco Program mission, and was detailed at the summit, including plans to work toward a tobacco tax increase (Doc. 49). The idea that youth should develop their own curricula was articulated in a session where SWAT youth “critiqued” existing curricula, including the current CDC recommended products Life Skills Training (LST) and Project Toward No Tobacco (TNT) (Doc. 49:2). It was decided that SWAT’s first major project would be a “Truth Train,” a public relations event designed to spread the word about the new organization and recruit a statewide membership. The Truth Train was scheduled for the end of the summer, in time to kick-off the start of the new school year. Several adult chaperones at the first summit were county health department personnel. Many others were volunteers or staffers at one of the health voluntaries. Starting in January 1998, the FTPP provided funds to each county health department for the recruitment and retention of dedicated tobacco control staff to manage the community-based anti-tobacco partnerships. These adult staffers would take over from volunteers after the first summit and be responsible for supporting the county SWAT teams. They would also be charged with establishing and maintaining local anti-tobacco coalitions or “community partnerships” in each community comprised of health and school groups, and political, and business leaders. Consistent with the high value placed on youth input throughout the Tobacco Program, each county’s community partnership was required by the program to maintain at least a 25 percent youth membership. The Truth Train, an actual Amtrak passenger train traveling from Pensacola to Miami, went off as scheduled, August 1-10. Governor Chiles attended several events at stops along the route. The 13-city tour, combined with the first round of Truth Television, radio, and print ads, put Florida in the national spotlight for its aggressive anti-tobacco efforts, and served as a powerful recruiting tool for SWAT. The event generated over a dozen news stories in major newspapers, was featured on a number of

55 local TV news, and was the subject of a segment on the ABC news magazine show 20/20. In many of the press accounts, the story was not smoking in movies, or any particular tobacco issue, but rather the idea that young people were the public face of, and the decision making power behind, the campaign. A survey conducted the following Spring showed a 92% awareness of the campaign among Florida youth aged 12 to 17 (Sly et al. 2001). The new “Florida Model” inspired the dozens of SWAT and Truth-like state campaigns that would surface over the next few years as states began to receive their share of Master Settlement Funds, with names like OK-SWAT (Oklahoma), REBEL (New Jersey), and Target Market (Minnesota). Meanwhile, in 1998, the first wave of Truth television, radio and print ads were broadcast around the state of Florida. With a marketing budget of somewhere between $35 million and $60 million dollars that year, the ad agency was able to blanket the airwaves, as well as fill newspapers, magazines, and billboards with Truth messages. The first wave of Truth ads was characteristically irreverent in tone and geared to a young (high school age) audience. They were also likely to feature non-professional actors in the form of SWAT youth themselves. Memorable first wave ad themes include a Brady Bunch spoof dealing with secondhand smoke, and a series involving SWAT members making harassing phone calls to tobacco companies, ad agencies with tobacco clients, and Hollywood producers. In September 1998, Minnesota settled with the tobacco industry, triggering an amendment to Florida’s settlement that removed the “anti-defamation” clause, increased the total amount of the settlement from 11 to 13 billion dollars, and placed new marketing restrictions, beyond those in the original settlement, on the industry. Local SWAT teams, flush with recruits generated through Truth ads and the Truth Train, conducted “stings” of tobacco retailers in which SWAT members would work with police as undercover agents and attempt to purchase tobacco products. By this time a few county SWAT teams had begun to advocate for city and county product placement ordinances and point of purchase promotional restrictions. With the lifting of the defamation ban, and with established SWAT chapters in each county, SWAT seemed poised to enact its planned campaign against the tobacco industry.

56 Then, on November 5, Republican candidate John E. “Jeb” Bush was elected Governor of Florida. Republicans gained control over the Florida House of Representatives in the same election (Republicans were already in control of the Senate). On December 12, 1998, with three weeks left in his second term, Lawton Chiles died in office. Jeb Bush, elected a month earlier to succeed Chiles, would take office in January, after a three-week tenure by then Lt. Governor Mackay. The Florida Tobacco Pilot Program had existed for approximately 12 months under the Chiles administration. Almost immediately after Bush took office, the program began to experience difficulties that continued for the life of the program. With the death of Governor Chiles, SWAT had lost its most powerful and articulate spokesperson at virtually the same time the Republicans, who had opposed the lawsuit against the industry, opposed the laws that were decisive in gaining Florida’s settlement, and were ideologically opposed to government restrictions on tobacco industry activities, took over.

Regime Change

One of the first official acts of the Bush Administration, after the January 9 inaugural (and a standard practice in Florida after a change of party) was to ask for resignations of all senior Chiles Administration officials, including Chuck Wolfe, Director of the FTPP. Another early decision was to move the FTPP out of the executive office and find it a home within one of the state agencies. With its fat budget and apparently guaranteed funding source, the FTPP would have been a plum addition to any agency. According to one staffer I spoke to who was involved with the program at the time, the Department of Health (DOH) and the Department of Education (DOE) both claimed rights to the program. DOH had maintained a relatively poorly funded tobacco prevention office for several years. DOE had Mae Waters, who had been involved in the program’s development. According to this former employee, a compromise was struck in that DOH would get control of the program, but would also get Dr. Waters, whose role as education coordinator would be expanded to include youth and community programs (including SWAT). The enforcement component (which had conducted the sting operations the previous year) would be split off and housed in the Agency for Business

57 and Professional Regulation (DBPR), but technically still be part of the FTPP and coordinated with the “Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco”—created at the DOH to house the bulk of the FTPP. Peter Mitchell (who had led the marketing efforts) was named acting director, and the program began to formalize organizationally. Mitchell’s staff of approximately 20 would run five components: 1. Marketing (Mitchell) 2. Youth and community programs, including SWAT (Waters) 3. Enforcement (Pendarakis, DBPR) 4. Education and training (Waters) 5. Evaluation and research9 (Kershaw) To house the four components under DOH control, a new division was created— the Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco (DHAT). This formalization of the program under DOH set the stage for changes that would follow. Cut off from the rest of the program, the enforcement program would wither and eventually be de-funded (after the year 2000). More significantly, without Wolfe’s focus on (youth) grassroots organizing as the focus for Tobacco Program efforts, the program components would begin to balkanize, especially after the upcoming additional changes to the program. As noted, the 1998 election also put the Florida House of Representatives under Republican control.10 Republican House members, led by Speaker John Thrasher, began attacking the FTPP during the FY 99-00 appropriations talks. In April, Thrasher and Debbie Sanderson, chairwoman of the House Health and Human Services Committee, publicly questioned the value of the Truth Campaign (The Bush-led Florida Department of Health had requested $61.5 million in funding for the budget cycle). In one published account, Thrasher doubted the effectiveness of the Truth ads and Sanderson was quoted as saying “I don’t think making fun of tobacco executives is a message to teenagers” (Wire service report, Florida Times-Union, 1999). Sanderson’s committee zeroed out funding for the FTPP in their budget recommendation to the full House. The

9 The fifth component, Evaluation and Research, headed by Josephine Kershaw, had been developed prior to the move as an outsourced resource. The Tobacco Program contracted with the University of Miami based “Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center” (TRECC) for the bulk of its program evaluation efforts. In my job as an evaluator for the FTPP, I was a TRECC employee. Ms. Kershaw, and those DOH staffers who followed in her position, primarily acted as contract managers with no staff of their own. 10 The Florida Senate was already under Republican control prior to 1998.

58 corresponding Senate committee recommended $50 million for the program, which was closer to but still short of the Department of Health’s $61.5 million request or the previous year’s $70 million allocation. On March 16, 1999, the 30 SWAT youth descended on the Capitol, demanding to speak with Sanderson and Thrasher. Sanderson refused to meet them and they staged an impromptu sit-in outside her office, chanting “We want Debby” (Elmore, Palm Beach Post, 1999). Thrasher had spoken to the students earlier, briefly, telling them “Nobody has yet justified if [The Campaign] is making a difference,” but then told them “It’s early in the session. We haven’t made any final decisions on anything yet” (Kassab, Florida Times-Union, 1999.). No one was arrested. Eventually, the students left Sanderson’s outer office without incident. The Administration’s response to the student’s civil disobedience was swift. Peter Mitchell, acting director of the FTPP, was fired the next day (April 17) (Elmore, Palm Beach Post, 1999). The FTPP would be leaderless and effectively in organizational limbo for the next four months. The same day Mitchell was fired, the DOH released the results of the second round of program evaluation results, showing dramatic 12-month drops in middle and high school smoking rates. Meanwhile, budget negotiations continued, albeit now with a higher level of public scrutiny. Over the next two months dozens of newspaper articles and editorials appeared critical of the decision to de-fund tobacco control11. Some pointed to massive tobacco industry campaign contributions to Republican candidates during the recent election cycle, others singled out Sanderson and/or Thrasher for zeroing out funding, or Bush, for allowing DOH to fire Mitchell. One reporter noted that the amount saved by Thrasher on tobacco cuts corresponded exactly to the amount he wanted to spend on a new medical school at his alma-mater, Florida State University (Staff editorial, Tampa Tribune, 1999). Bush acted to distance himself from the issue. A Bush spokesperson said the decision by DOH Secretary Bob Brooks (a Bush appointee) was “his own personal decision” and not influenced by Bush (Elmore, Palm Beach Post, 1999). The Governor voiced support for the FTPP but made no specific promises—a position he

11 For another summary of the events surrounding the Tobacco Program’s 1999 funding cut and staff purge, see Givel and Glantz (2000).

59 would maintain in the following years. For his part, Brooks was initially quoted by reporters as claiming the Governor ordered Mitchell’s firing, but later insisted he had made the decision himself, and explained the action as due to a difference in “vision” (Staff editorial, Tampa Tribune, 1999). As budget talks between House and Senate continued, and media attention remained focused on the issue, the figures gradually increased over the next couple of weeks. Each increase in the recommendation--$20 million, then $30 million—was accompanied by news coverage that re-told the SWAT demonstration and the Mitchell firing. Eventually the proposed budget figure reached $61 million, just short of the $61.5 million initially requested, and was included in the final appropriation. Bush’s appointment to Secretary of Health, Robert Brooks, publicly stated he intended to take the program in a “different direction,” and emphasized smoking cessation, health education, and discussed expanding the program to include college students (McMurray, Miami Herald, 1999). Mitchell’s former purview, the Marketing Component (a.k.a. Truth Campaign), was now managed entirely by teenage staffers. With Mitchell gone, Dr. Waters was tapped to lead DHAT and the remaining program components until a new director could be appointed. Waters had initially been brought aboard for her expertise in curriculum development and put in charge of the Education and Training component. Turnover at the top increased the scope of her responsibilities to include SWAT and community partnerships, and now, the entire Florida Tobacco Pilot Program. In the period that followed, several formal and informal changes were made to the program and to SWAT that reflected these changes to the program’s leadership.

SWAT Under Waters

Four key events occurred during Water’s five-month tenure as Acting Director of the FTPP (March—August 1999) that quietly reshaped the program, and especially effected SWAT. They were: • The enforcement component moved to DBPR • Youth staffers fired and the Truth Campaign moved to the DOH Office of Communications • SWAT’s policy agenda modified

60 • The College Advocacy Program launched I have already mentioned item one. The Balkanization of the Tobacco Program in 1999 represented a structural barrier to youth input into all areas of the program by confusing administrative lines of authority, and making program coordination difficult generally. SWAT’s involvement in retailer sting operations gradually tapered off after the component was moved. Coordination problems were exacerbated in June, when 11 of the 31 staffers at headquarters were suddenly fired, including all the youth staffers hired to represent SWAT (Clark, Miami Herald, 1999). Interpreted by many to be the end of meaningful youth input into the Tobacco Program, the staff purge precipitated the gradual change in style, tone, and message of the Truth ads, which I discuss later in this chapter. Among the youth staff fired was the 18 year-old marketing director, quoted by a newspaper reporter as saying: One of the whole ideas was having young people involved in the program, and they’ve pretty much eliminated anyone under 18 who works in the office. What they’ve done is taken out everything that made the program special, the people who had the revolutionary ideas about tobacco and had started something new, instead of beating the same old dead horse (Jared Perez, quoted in Clark, Miami Herald, 1999). Perez’ statement implies that the firings were designed to eliminate not only the youth staffers, but also the youth-mobilizing strategy of the program. Other news coverage of the firings noted that lawmakers remained “troubled” by the inflammatory tone of the Truth campaign, perhaps because of its ability to mobilize the public to engage in the policy process on tobacco issues (Hauserman, St. Petersburg Times, 1999). Also in this period, the policy agenda laid out at the first Teen Summit (discussed earlier) was quietly dropped. Comparison of SWAT meeting minutes from the 1998 Teen Summit to meeting minutes from later summits and BOD meetings reveals the shift. Post 1998 minutes retain plans for and discussions of a few voluntary policy efforts, principally the publication of “Smoke free dining guides” to encourage restaurant owners

61 to voluntarily restrict smoking in dining areas. However, the state legislative tobacco policy agenda, including a tobacco tax increase, is absent from 1999 afterward.12 In place of the policy agenda, “peer education” becomes more prominent in SWAT discussions as reflected in meeting minutes. Education had been a part of SWAT’s mission in 1998, evidenced by their critique of existing tobacco curricula in preparation for developing their own (discussed above). Under Waters, this plan seems to have fizzled, as it is absent from later SWAT meeting minutes. Instead, the Tobacco Program begins to distribute existing curricula “as is,” bypassing SWAT youth input. In successive years, the Education and Training Component invested heavily in distributing TNT and LST, two of the leading CDC recommended curricula. Three months after the staff purge (and six months after the Mitchell firing) Waters launched the College Advocacy Initiative (CAI), a program putatively intended to establish a SWAT-like grassroots anti-tobacco organization comprised of college students on university campuses in Florida. CAI was continued in subsequent years and constituted the only major expansion to the FTPP’s original target group of 18 and under youth. The characteristics of the CAI program’s development offer a sharp contrast to SWAT’s development from only one year earlier, and especially to the high value placed on youth input and youth control in the earlier group’s development. On paper, CAI looks similar to SWAT. While they represent different age groups both are organized as “youth-led” tobacco advocacy groups with local chapters and statewide governing committees. Both were funded by the tobacco settlement and both were administered by the FTPP. Both programs were required to address overall FTPP goals. Like SWAT, the CAI maintained a paid advisor at each site but because CAI was operated through a contract, advisor salaries and other costs were not public information, Like the SWAT Board of Directors, CAI maintained a youth advisory board. Organizationally, CAI differed from SWAT. The CAI youth board was made up of paid staff rather than volunteers, usually students working for the project on part-time work-study. This meant that the CAI organization, while appearing to be a grassroots

12 Its possible that an effort was made to censor these meeting minutes. While I was with the program (2000-03), it was a practice that incoming BOD members received information packets that included past BOD meeting minutes—dating back to August 1999. Minutes and other materials from the program’s first year were not part of this information packet, nor were they available to program staff. I was able to procure copies of these materials from a former staffer.

62 student organization, was something quite different. The “activists” in the College Advocacy Initiative were paid to advocate. In contrast to the fanfare that surrounded the launching of SWAT, 18 months earlier, CAI began small, as a pilot project in two colleges. Eventually it would be established in 17 universities and community colleges around the state. While both were administered from the FTPP headquarters in Tallahassee, they were organized under different bureaus: SWAT under “Youth and Community Programs” and CAI, under “Education and Training.” There was little coordination across the two programs at the statewide level. Staffers often complained about the lack of transparency in CAI planning and organization, which was administered through a contract, essentially outsourcing program functions and representing a barrier to coordination with other program components. Had it been launched one year earlier, in a different political climate, and with different leadership, CAI might have developed similarly to SWAT, and together the two groups might have carried out an anti-tobacco advocacy mission. As it turned out, the college program was in no position to coordinate advocacy activities with SWAT and did not facilitate engagement in political action. In sum, Dr. Water’s brief tenure as Acting Director of DHAT marked the end of the SWAT organization as a social movement organization. Youth emerged from that period with their fiery anti-tobacco-industry rhetoric intact, but without their policy agenda, their media campaign, or any real authority within the DOH bureaucracy. The College Advocacy Program’s practice of token youth involvement was the new dominant model of youth involvement in Florida’s tobacco control efforts, and SWAT was effectively obsolete. The net effect of these administrative and organizational shifts probably saved the Tobacco Program, at least in the short term, but fundamentally changed it. No more protests would occur at the capitol, and the threat of SWAT adding a coherent and possibly critical voice to state tobacco policy debates was effectively eliminated.

63 SWAT and Truth

After 1999 the Department of Health firmly separated and isolated the marketing campaign and the Truth “brand” from SWAT—which was first accomplished administratively in the staff purge of 1999 and now accomplished in terms of “brand identity.” According to meeting minutes from a March 31 SWAT BOD Executive Committee meeting, the Director of DOH Communications (and contract manager for the ad campaign) asserted that: “’Truth’ is a marketing logo, like Nike and Coca Cola… The mixing of SWAT and ‘truth’ would dilute the powerful message of ‘truth’” (Doc. 5). After 1999, the Truth logo and ads were not available for use at SWAT events and functions without special permissions, and the Truth ads would be increasingly less identified with the youth program over the next three years. This policy of isolating and dis-associating media and grassroots efforts was absurd from the perspective of movement organizing, and may be the most compelling evidence that the Department of Health was no longer attempting to build an anti-tobacco movement organization in SWAT. The “Truth Train” of fall 1998 was the last SWAT event to use the “brand name” Truth. The agency continued to pay lip service to the idea of youth input into Truth. But this need was satisfied, according to the Communications Office and the ad agency, Crispin Porter and Bogusky, by the use of focus groups in ad development. It was explained to SWAT youth that they were not the “target audience” of the truth ads (because most SWAT youth were committed non-smokers) and therefore should not be involved in ad creation. Later, after 2001, the SWAT BOD was allowed to designate a marketing committee of youth representatives to advise the creators of the Truth ads, but this was after the campaign had been firmly and irrevocably separated from SWAT. From what I could see, the roles of the SWAT “advisors” seemed to be primarily that of apologists for the advertising company to their peers on the BOD, who were often upset by the latest round of Truth ads. Unhitched from the SWAT organization in 1999, the Truth campaign slowly changed course. The ads were much less likely to feature SWAT youth (and later, any

64 youth), they became more expensive (i.e. higher production values), and, by 2002, they no longer attacked the tobacco industry. In 1998, the Truth Campaign produced twenty-six television ads. Fourteen of the ads featured SWAT youth in them. After 1998, no Truth ads featured SWAT youth (although a couple of “SWAT recruitment” ads were produced that did not carry the Truth logo). The “Marlboro Man” spots of 1999 (which featured two teens and a van in a mocking attempt to gain entry to a Philip Morris compound to “see the Marlboro Man”) used teen-age actors who were not SWAT members. After 1999, the ads no longer maintained this pretense, and used older actors, or cartoons, to make their points. To the public, the difference was probably not apparent. But the ads were no longer the image of the youth movement, a fact that was not lost on at least some of the SWAT BOD members. The growing frustration over the Truth campaign among the SWAT BOD would boil over in the Spring of 2001, after the development of the “Eyeballs” series of Truth ads. To illustrate the changes in ad costs: in January 1999, the campaign aired a spot during the Super Bowl. The ad, “Laugh Track” was simply a video taped excerpt of tobacco executives testifying before the US congress—with a laugh track added. The ad reportedly cost only $2,200 to make (Hegarty, St. Petersburg Times, 1999). Other early ads were also relatively inexpensive to produce. In 2001, an ad involving a satirical musical number, titled “Focus on the Positive” cost $618,000 to produce (Klas, Palm Beach Post, 2001). Earlier, the ad agency responsible for creating the Truth ads, Crispin Porter and Bogusky, had won the Media Lions Gran Prix at the Cannes Film Festival for some of their earlier Truth ads. Apparently they felt this prize gave the ad agency a “carte blanche” regarding cost controls in the campaign. Another factor in the apparent lack of controls may have been the ad agency’s bypassing of DOH contract management in order to gain higher levels of support for the campaign. I spoke to one informant who lobbies state government in Florida, who told me that Crispin Porter and Bogusky “always” presented their annual marketing plan for the Truth campaign directly to Governor Bush, and gained his approval for the ads before submitting them to DOH. This bypassing of DOH authority, coupled with the loss of focus of the original mission and the lack of accountability to the SWAT youth, created

65 conditions in which the ad agency was free to develop an anti-tobacco campaign on its own, independent of others’ efforts, including SWAT. The content and tone of later Truth ads reflect this independence. Beginning in 2001, the Truth campaign branched out from its attacks on the tobacco industry and began to focus on other issues, including the health hazards of smoking and environmental tobacco smoke. The “Eyeballs” ads of early 2001 were the first to deviate from the anti-industry focus. This series of three ads (Truth ads were usually developed in groups of three) used no spoken or written text, except for the Truth logo at the end of each ad. The ads showed a society of eyeless cartoon characters, and one character distributing eyes. A tag line was later added to the end of the ads: “Knowledge is Truth is Power.” The contrast between these ads and the direct unambiguous content of earlier ads provoked some SWAT BOD members to reject them (see the section below on “Resistance”). Of the five sets of ads that followed (until the ad campaign was shut down in 2003), two dealt with tobacco industry practices or “manipulation” but three focused on the health hazards of secondhand smoke. The severing of formal and substantive links between SWAT and Truth in 1999 contributed to the youth organization’s decline as a movement organization, even though, as I will show in Chapter 6, SWAT youth continued to identify the organization and the campaign as a unit. Even though the ads no longer served as the media arm of the grassroots efforts, as they did in 1998, the Truth campaign remained a visible symbol of the idea that a viable tobacco-control effort still existed in the State, at least through Governor Bush’s first term in office.

Funding for SWAT Under the Bush Administration

The FY 99-00 budget process (described above) set a pattern that would be repeated each year thereafter. Instead of designating recurring funds for the FTPP, the Legislature chose to reallocate on a year-by-year basis. Each year (up until the FY 03-04 budget), the DOH would recommend an amount to be included in the Governor’s budget request. The Legislature would then begin conference meetings and make an initial recommendation to the full chamber. Usually the House would start at zero and the

66 Senate at some mid-way point. Over the next several weeks and as the appropriations bill moved to joint House/Senate conference, the amount would gradually increase, and only in the last days of session would it include substantial funding levels for the program— although this final amount decreased marginally from year to year. Once engrossed, the bill would go to the Governor for possible line-item-veto, a process that took several weeks. Once signed, it was distributed to the agencies and eventually to the programs. The final allocation might not occur until well after the start of the fiscal year. This was the pattern three years in a row, from FY 99-00 to FY 02-03. In FY 03-04, the pattern broke. Initially looking like a repeat of previous years, the amount of the allocation failed to rise at the end and the FTPP emerged with only $15 million. In the weeks that followed, Bush vetoed the entire budget, called for a special session and eventually signed a budget that contained no tobacco program appropriation. DOH re-organized with a skeleton staff and an uncertain operating budget, drawn from internal DOH funds, but the FTPP was effectively gutted. A second pattern set in the FY 99-00 appropriations was the inclusion of legislative requirements for the FTPP within the budget bill. These “provisos” were commonly understood to be perks that benefited particular legislator’s districts in exchange for their support for the appropriation. In FY 99-00, $5.5 million (9 percent of the total appropriation) was designated as proviso. In FY 00-01 the amount was $4 million (again 9 percent) and in FY 01-02 it was $4.2 million (15 percent after budget cuts took effect). Several of the proviso projects were designated to occur in Dade County and understood as offerings to Senator Ron Silver (D. Miami, and Chair of the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Health and Human Services) in exchange for his support. In FY 02-03, Bush exercised his line-item-veto on proviso language in the tobacco program appropriation, to the relief of many staffers (and program evaluators) within the FTPP who were dismayed at the poor performance of proviso projects as a whole. But with the veto of Silver’s projects, the program lost a powerful advocate of its continued funding. The uncertainty caused by the annual appropriations process negatively impacted program operations at the FTPP. Each year the program came to a virtual standstill: in

67 terms of planning between April and June, and in terms of activities between July and September. Each year the threat of significantly reduced funding impacted staffing and program planning within the FTPP. For contracted employees, the uncertainty in June and July highlighted their liminal status within the organization. In the field, planning for the following year depended heavily on the amount each county might receive. Required lead times for negotiating with vendors, setting up venues, and soliciting creative input from SWAT members, made it difficult to kick off events at the start of the academic school year. Projects done on basis of contract, including evaluation services and the College Advocacy Program, had long pauses and slow restarts each year. For program evaluation of specific projects, the pauses in evaluation contracts made base-line data difficult to collect and prohibited pre-post evaluation efforts. In terms of time lost and recurring start-up costs the annual budget battle consistently hampered the FTPP’s potential output. Annual appropriations cuts were only one of three recurring funding problems within the FTPP. In addition there was the “certify-forward” problem. Certify-forward is an accounting rule that facilitates continuity from one budget cycle to the next by allowing funds (for services rendered but not yet paid) to remain available past the yearly cut off date. Many state contracts have deliverable dates close to the cut off date. Sometimes they are not processed quickly enough. The certify-forward rule normally removes some of the uncertainty from the process of doing business with the state. But under the Bush administration, this was not the case. In September 2000, Bush surprised many agencies and programs (including the FTPP) by denying millions in certified forward requests from the previous fiscal year. The FTPP was forced to use funds from the FY 00-01 budget cycle to pay for services rendered in FY 99-00, effectively reducing its available budget for FY 00-01 by approximately $15 million dollars. A third and more devastating source of funding trouble for the FTPP occurred in the form of two mid-year legislative budget cuts, one in FY 01-02 (of $14.3 million) the other in FY 01-02 (of $7.3 million). Any time a cut was made, or threatened, activities within the program ceased. Holds were placed on spending, travel was banned, and so forth. The uncertainty that prevailed whenever the legislature was in session consumed everyone’s attention.

68 Both mid-year cuts were made in reaction to anticipated state-revenue shortfalls. Beyond that, the sources of the shortfalls, and justifications and targets for cuts were different. The first cut occurred during a general revenue shortfall (just after the World Trade Center bombings) travel and tourism, Florida’s second-largest industry, was experiencing a downturn and, with them, taxes. Even though the FTPP was funded entirely through the tobacco settlement (which experienced no shortfall), it was targeted for a $14.3 million dollar cut, a 34 percent reduction. The Florida Department of Health (including the FTPP) experienced a total of $28.1 million dollars in cuts. But, given the $2 billion starting budget for the DOH, that amount represented only a 1 percent cut agency-wide. Clearly, the FTPP was singled out for a disproportionate share of cuts in FY 01-02. The following year (FY 02-03) it was announced mid-year that another shortfall, this time in tobacco settlement funds, was expected. Again a special session of the legislature was called, and again, the FTPP was cut, this time by $7.3 million, or 20 percent of its appropriation that year. Tobacco Settlement funds were spread throughout the DOH budget, and the agency was hit with an overall cut of $14.8 million. But again, this amount represented only a 1 percent cut in the agency’s total budget. Wherever the source of the shortfall, then, it appeared that the tobacco program would be targeted. The first of the back-to-back annual cuts to the FTPP was the last time there were active protests on the part of SWAT members, though this time the youth were careful to assert they were acting as members of other organizations (including the American Lung Association and The Campaign for Tobacco-Free Kids), not as SWAT members. On October 24, 2001 a small group of youth staged a rally at the state Capitol, joined by Attorney General Bob Butterworth (who had negotiated the tobacco settlement in 1997) and Rhea Chiles, widow of Governor Lawton Chiles. The youth called legislators using cell phones while they were in session—generating complaints of cell phone “jamming” on the part of a few legislators (Ashmore, Tampa Tribune, 2001; Klas, Palm Beach Post, 2001). Overall this protest on behalf of SWAT failed to generate the degree of media attention that the 1999 protest received. Also, notably, no one was fired; perhaps because this time FTPP staff were much more careful to distance themselves from the protestors. After the second round of cuts, it began to appear to many within the FTPP that the program was a sacrificial lamb in the eyes of DOH administrators and the Governor,

69 who was in a position to direct the placement of many of the cuts and ultimately had to approve them. DOH administrators justified cuts to FTPP staffers in terms of the relative wealth of the program compared to other worthy projects within the agency that survived on much smaller budgets. Privately they complained of “budget envy” directed at the tobacco program within the DOH, and the lack of awareness and understanding within the legislature of FTPP methods and strategy. Interestingly, in the same years the FTPP budgets were slashed, Florida Department of Health Secretary, John Agwunobi, often referred to the FTPP as the “flagship program” within the agency, and Governor Bush continued to voice support for the program. The tobacco program’s final year saw an amplification of previously established funding worries. The FY 03-04 appropriations talks started with more shortfall predictions, less support within DOH, and fewer “friends” among legislators and lobbyists. With the elimination of proviso projects, Ron Silver no longer advocated for the program on the Senate floor (possibly because the proviso projects had gone to contractors in his district). More problematic perhaps, the most consistent lobbyists for the FTPP over the years, the Florida chapters of American Heart, Lung and Cancer Associations (known as the Tri-Agencies), could not be counted on. The Tri-Agencies were focusing their lobbying efforts that year on developing implementing legislation for a recently passed ballot initiative to legislate smoke-free workplaces in Florida. Some staffers believed the Tri-Agency’s lobbyists sacrificed funding for the FTPP in exchange for language on the smoke-free-workplace implementing bill. Others noted the re- appearance in Tallahassee of John Thrasher, former House Speaker and vocal opponent of the FTPP, now registered lobbyist for Lorillard Tobacco Corporation. As a personal friend and hunting companion to the Governor, Thrasher was considered by some in the media to be one of the most influential lobbyist of the 03-04 legislative session. The budget process was especially drawn-out in 2003. The first budget, for $53 billion dollars, passed after rancorous and public disagreements between House and Senate leaders and contained $15 million for the FTPP. It was vetoed by the Governor, who immediately called for another session and demanded more cuts. The second budget managed to shave $489 million from the first, with $15 million coming from the FTPP. The tobacco program had been eliminated as a budget item. The DOH immediately

70 eliminated 79 positions within the program, and closed down the media campaign, effectively gutting the program. A handful of staff were retained to manage the SWAT BOD, which, curiously, persisted into another year. But little else survived.

Resistance in the SWAT BOD

The changes imposed on SWAT in 1999 did not occur without resistance from the SWAT BOD. Active resistance took two forms: an attempt from within the BOD to rekindle and refocus SWAT’s policy agenda by raising the issue of tobacco industry campaign contributions to elected officials in Florida, and a growing hostility toward the DOH Office of Communications for its management of the Truth campaign, which erupted in an appeal to the Secretary of Health for remediation in 2002. Resistance was limited, however, by the BOD’s dependence on adult staffers within the Tobacco Program, who used a variety of tactics to defuse BOD SWAT member’s complaints. The SWAT BOD voted to take up the issue of political contributions to Florida’s elected officials in June 2000 (Doc. 5). DOH staffers were able to use their role as records keepers as well as the timing of the vote to undo it. The campaign contributions initiative was voted for in the last meeting of an outgoing BOD (June 2000) but was absent from the agenda of the incoming BOD (September 2000) (Doc. 11). Most BOD members served for only one year. With a 75 percent turnover among the SWAT BOD each year, SWAT was heavily dependent on staffers within the Youth Development section in Tallahassee for institutional memory. So, in an action that almost certainly saved their jobs, FTPP staffers quietly allowed the initiative to die (Governor Bush had accepted over $9,000 in tobacco money in his 1998 campaign). Other times, as the next episode shows, staffers were able to defuse potentially controversial situations in the SWAT BOD before they came to a vote. Hostility toward the Communication’s Office handling of the Truth Campaign boiled over in 2001, over the Eyeballs ads. “Eyeballs” (discussed above) were a series of three ads that used animated characters with empty sockets for eyes. In each ad, one character—with eyes—passed out pairs of eyes to others, who popped them in and began to see. The ads used no spoken text and relied instead on the images to convey the

71 message. At the end of each ad, the original, sighted, character would flash the Truth logo. The themes and imagery of the Eyeballs ads departed substantially from that of earlier Truth ads, which had a more direct object of opposition, i.e. the tobacco industry. As had become the pattern over the previous 16 months (since the purge of youth marketing staff), the Eyeballs ads were conceived and developed by the ad agency in Miami with little or no consultation to the SWAT BOD. When the completed Eyeballs ads were unveiled to the BOD in November 2000, the ad agency likely expected the 2000-01 SWAT BOD to rubber-stamp its approval (and reinforce precedent for a post- purge way of doing business). Instead, members of the BOD formed themselves into an unsanctioned “youth marketing committee” and (according to members of the committee I spoke to) convinced the BOD to withhold its approval, forcing a showdown with the DOH administrators and the ad agency over SWAT’s role in the decision making process. Over the next three months, DOH administrators and representatives of Crispin Porter and Bogusky met repeatedly with members of the SWAT Youth Marketing Committee to work out a compromise on the Eyeballs issue. According to a second committee member with whom I spoke, the meetings and conference calls steadily ratcheted up the pressure on the youth, who remained opposed to the ads and to the token level of SWAT input into them. The committee members (who spoke confidentially to me) also said that advertising executives in the meetings asserted that early youth input into truth ads’ creative process was “impractical” and unheard of in normal ad agency/client relations, and program administrators complained that SWAT’s denial of approval was costing the program money and threatening its ability to fund other activities. This pressure, according to my sources on the committee, became too much for the youth, and when a compromise “process” was offered (which failed to provide for substantive youth input into Truth) they took it. The compromise was formalized on March 29, 2001 as an outline of “SWAT Process and Roles”, which detailed two separate processes for the production of marketing products within the program: one for Truth, in which the SWAT BOD would have no input into the process, and one for “SWAT”—recruiting ads and promotional gear which had, up until then, been the province of individual county teams. The new system formally and effectively isolated Truth from SWAT. Two other

72 concessions, not in the document but reported to me by my informants on the committee, were the lavishing of Truth gear—clothing and accessories—on the SWAT BOD, and the creation of an annual all expenses paid two-week “marketing internship” (for one SWAT BOD member, to be selected by the youth) with Crispin Porter and Bogusky in Miami. Though my sources consider both these concessions bribes, they admit they were effective in defusing the opposition from within SWAT to its loss of control over Truth. A pattern I observed whenever SWAT youth complained about annual budget reductions was they would be told “Its not about the money.” Headquarters staffers and DOH administrators often encouraged the SWAT BOD to ignore the “funding issue,” no doubt because staffers feared a repeat of the 1999 confrontation with Representative Sanderson and its aftermath. Rather than reject this advice, most SWAT BOD members went along with it. There was, after 2000, a marked passivity among the SWAT leadership regarding their anti-tobacco mission that, with a few exceptions, only increased over the next couple of years. As a decision making body, the BOD was heavily dependent on the staff in Tallahassee for access to program information. Observing the four BOD meetings and the summit that year, I realized that the staffers effectively controlled the issues that were brought before the BOD and how they were presented. Simply dismissing a youth’s idea as ‘difficult to carry out given the political climate’ was usually enough to kill it. Voting in favor of a controversial action (like coordinating public faces of SWAT and Truth) was not enough to make it happen, and would likely generate persuasive opposition from staffers who were putatively “facilitating” discussion. Invariably, in my observation, some SWAT youth were always eager to spare adult staffers conflict, and would champion the staffs’ positions during group discussions. Resistance from SWAT youth to their loss of control within the Tobacco Program almost certainly went beyond the isolated incidents reported above. Because SWAT youth were volunteers, less obtrusive resistance might have included youth lowering their level of effort or leaving the program altogether. For the period in question, however, it seems that staff were able to manage the youth resistance and discontent so as to avoid public incidents.

73 Managing the youth

An oppositional stance directed at state-level policy issues never emerged as an action agenda within SWAT, due at least in part to persistent defusing and redirecting by adult staffers. Something the focus group participants were unaware of, but which I witnessed as part of the staff in Tallahassee, was the covert management of SWAT’s agenda by adult staff. Control took several forms. Although the SWAT BOD was the nominal decision making body for SWAT, adult staff arranged BOD meetings and finalized meeting agendas (after getting input from the BOD executive committee). When choosing advocacy campaigns, the BOD would be presented with a list, prepared and approved by staff, to choose from. Any emergent idea deemed too politically sensitive by program administrators, and there were several, was argued against. One BOD member who had been critical of SWAT’s loss of control over the Truth ad campaign was elected by his peers to head a SWAT marketing committee, then invited to intern at the Miami offices of the lead ad agency CP&P, all expenses paid. He returned from that internship with a newfound respect for the professionals who ran the campaign. Most of the BOD members trusted the adult staffers within the program. The potential to abuse that trust was high. And the adults were conscious of what could happen to staffers when SWAT engaged in overt political action. Given the built-in high rates of turnover within the membership, few SWAT members were in a position to compare SWAT in 1998 to SWAT in 2001, and none had held leadership posts at the statewide level for more than two years. The organization of SWAT guaranteed a short institutional memory, and adult support staff would hold what memory did exist. The membership in 2001 was, for the most part, not in a position to make comparisons to 1998. However, the disconnect between the rhetoric of social activism and the practice of health education must have been confusing to some of the SWAT members. With regard to health education activities in SWAT, the response from Tallahassee was convoluted. After the Mitchell firing of 1999 the head of the Department of Health had announced he was taking the FTCP in a “new direction” toward school-based education and away from the emphasis on counter marketing. He did not offer any public statements regarding SWAT. Within the agency, however, the

74 line between SWAT activities and school-based education became blurred. With Mitchell’s departure, Mae Waters, formerly in charge of the education and training component, was elevated to bureau chief and given administrative control over SWAT and county partnerships in addition to the education component. As the highest ranking survivor of the staff purges of 1999, Waters may have felt compelled (and was in a position) to redirect SWAT in a less politically sensitive direction. Short of giving SWAT explicit direction toward health education, however, administrators simply dampened or failed to encourage impulses for social activism. The resulting vacuum of mission was filled by things familiar to program staff in the field. In the absence of a compelling and clear focus for the organization from the top- down, the county SWAT teams, and their adult advisors, were essentially left on their own in terms of missions. Most abandoned to some degree the youth-activist principles embedded in the program’s founding and reverted to more familiar ground. For many of the adult advisors, this meant refocusing of SWAT toward more traditional forms of health education for tobacco prevention. County-level SWAT programs relied on adult advisors who were largely health department personnel or schoolteachers. Each county’s program was headed by a Tobacco Prevention Coordinator (TPC), who was employed by the County Health Department. In most counties, the TPC supervised a SWAT Coordinator, also a county health department employee. TPC’s and SWAT coordinators came from a variety of backgrounds, but the vast majority were public health career employees with backgrounds in health education, social work or nursing13. At the level of the individual SWAT team, advisors were usually school personnel, and often a school nurse or drug prevention coordinator. The backgrounds and experience of many of the adult advisors to SWAT guided their efforts, in the absence of any clear direction otherwise, toward the things they knew. If an adult advisor was comfortable setting up an information booth at the county fair, staging a puppet show, or making a presentation to a kindergarten class

13 This was true at least, in my experience with the program, that is, after the year 2000. County staff I spoke to indicated that the 1999 staff purge in Tallahassee was followed by a corresponding turnover among county-level staff, possibly as high as two-thirds of the County Coordinators over a period of a year. According to these same staffers, some left because they were disappointed with the direction the program had taken, but most left for reasons of job security.

75 about the dangers of tobacco use, it is reasonable to expect them to envision SWAT members doing similar activities. Beyond its familiarity to many local adult advisors, health education offered a key advantage over activism in the counties; it allowed people to keep their heads down. Whenever I spoke with staff in the field or at statewide meetings I often heard complaints about the difficulty of getting and maintaining cooperation for SWAT from school officials. Nearly any newsworthy thing SWAT might do in the counties was likely to be controversial. Anything that focused negative attention on local business or elected officials invited trouble. Without overt support and direction for SWAT activism from Tallahassee, many adult staffers found activism not worth the risk. Others, perhaps disappointed by the shift in tone within SWAT, left the program and were replaced by staffers recruited by county health department administrators. The replacements reflected the health education mission of their organizations rather than the activist mission of the original SWAT program. By 2001, SWAT at the local level was experiencing a state of organizational- identity-schizophrenia. On one hand, statewide SWAT leadership (the Board of Directors) continued to maintain the rhetoric of activism, but with fewer and less far- reaching coordinated activity. The Truth media campaign continued to poke fun at the tobacco industry, albeit with a less overt call to action. On the other hand, local SWAT teams were unlikely to engage in activism of any sort (with the exception of the work on product placement ordinances), and were more likely doing (and receiving) health education instead. The first represented a deviation from the anti-industry focus of SWAT, the second a move away from a focus on statewide issues. Due at least in part to the repressive and manipulative actions of program administrators, a disconnect emerged between SWAT rhetoric and practice. The idea of youth leadership in tobacco control, expressed in the program mission and other program rhetoric, did not mesh with the loss of SWAT control over the media campaign (after 1999) and the lack of youth input into basic program decision making in all areas of the tobacco program (including decisions about SWAT itself). The most apparent facet of this disconnect to SWAT youth in 2001, requiring recurring interventions and management on the part of DOH staffers, was the lack of coordination between SWAT

76 and the Truth ad campaign. The campaign had begun as the media arm of the “youth movement” against tobacco, but by 2001 was acknowledged by tobacco staffers and increasing numbers of SWAT youth to operate independently of SWAT. Without oversight or input from the youth, the ad campaign no longer helped to create the image of SWAT and the organization lost a major unifying and mobilizing tool. Sometime after 1998, and despite the promise of SWAT as a new tobacco control movement organization within Florida, the organization ceased to function at the statewide level as an advocacy organization to any significant degree. By 2001 SWAT as a statewide organization (apart from individual locally-based SWAT teams) had been broadly re-purposed from social activism to health education by the Florida Department of Health, whether through deliberate actions or through neglect, I cannot definitely say. The program had maintained a rhetoric of activism, but the reduction of SWAT’s mission to slogans was insufficient orientation for most SWAT members to activist roles. A slogan is no substitute for an action plan. Given the high turnover within SWAT and its member’s dependence on adult advisors for guidance, it could have little institutional memory on its own. SWAT’s confident and well-publicized 1998 launch, with active support from the Governor, tied to the aggressive Truth campaign, and with an apparently secure funding source, seemed to auger a powerful movement organization in the making. However, whatever movement consciousness remaining in 2001 was fragmented and limited to a narrow range of local issues.

SWAT’s Later Agenda: Irrelevant Activism

Statewide SWAT BOD meetings continued to take place after the regime change, as well as the (2nd annual) teen summit. But, unlike meetings and summits under the previous administration, the Governor did not visit these. While Bush continued to offer public (if vague) support for the FTPP as a whole, he remained distant from SWAT14. In

14 For example, the Bush Administration’s recommendation for continued (albeit reduced) funding for the FTPP prior to the 1998-99 legislative appropriations process was taken by those inside the program as an indication of support. However, Bush was largely silent and sometimes cryptic in terms of public statements and quotes. During 1999’s Thrasher/Sanderson-led attacks on funding, Bush was quoted as saying (after expressing the wish that the Truth campaign continue for another six months because its impact was still unknown) that the anti-tobacco efforts should try to “shape attitudes before shaping

77 August, a permanent Director was hired. Debra Bodenstine had worked for the alcoholic beverage industry and the Florida News Network, and recently in the Florida Department of Business and Professional Regulation (Staff report, The Florida Times-Union, 1999). As Director of DHAT, Bodenstine would head the program through its last three years, but the direction of the program had been firmly established in the interim period before she arrived. Dr. Waters retained substantial authority within DHAT as Bureau Chief over three of DHAT’s four program components, including SWAT. Many staff felt that Waters would continue to be the real decision making power within the program. Bodenstine was the titular head of DHAT, but the staff reported to Waters. Over the next three years, the program continued along a course set in 1999, that is: continuity on the surface, emptiness underneath. The consequences of this course was, at the statewide level, a gradual loss of the momentum established in the program’s first year, and, at the local level, increasing independence from the statewide program. This independence was expressed through the development of a locally-oriented policy agenda in some counties.

A Loss of Momentum

The success of 1998’s Truth Train, the theme of which concerned depictions of smoking in movies, influenced the shape of SWAT statewide activities that would follow. The organization conducted several themed public relations campaigns over the next four years, each of which was the culmination of months of planning by staffers and the SWAT BOD. The SWAT “statewide advocacy campaigns” as these events came to be called, addressed issues in the anti-tobacco movement, including exposing tobacco advertising in youth-read magazines15, the industry’s charitable campaigns16, and youth-oriented tobacco marketing in other countries.17 While the style was similar, later advocacy campaigns differed from the Truth Train in important ways. Foremost, the Truth Train was designed to mobilize the public against the tobacco industry and for policy change. After SWAT lost its policy agenda,

opinions” (Florida Times Union 3/16/99). The exact meaning of this statement is unclear, but could be taken as a dig against the sharply opinionated Truth ads. This brief quote from Bush was the only one I could find among the fifteen major-newspaper articles I found dealing with 1999’s budget fight, a pattern of silence regarding the FTPP he would continue over the next several years. 15 “Big tobacco on the run” 16 Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is 17 “SWAT without borders”

78 this ultimate goal no longer guided the campaigns that, consequently, lost direction and focus. Themes of later advocacy campaigns seemed arbitrary to many of the rank and file, and (as I will show in Chapter 6) the membership was largely unmotivated to participate in them. Likewise, the news value of later campaigns was diminished. While the Truth Train generated at least twelve articles in major Florida newspapers, later campaigns received only a smattering of attention. I was able to find only three articles that mentioned SWAT statewide advocacy campaigns after 1999 (see Chapter 4 for methods used to identify news coverage of the program). Absent policy goals, statewide advocacy campaigns were justified by program staffers primarily as recruiting events, a rationale that sidestepped the question of what the youth were being recruited for. SWAT membership continued to rise between 1999 and 2003 (at least by official counts), but these new recruits lacked the clarity of purpose that seemed to inspire the first cohort of SWAT leaders. Chapter 6 explores these issues more fully, with a look at local SWAT groups as they existed in 2001.

SWAT on the Sidelines

In July 2001, a coalition of anti-tobacco groups in Florida, including The American Cancer Society, American Heart and Lung Associations, and the Campaign for Tobacco Free Kids, formed “Smoke Free for Health” with the goal of putting a citizens’ initiative on the November, 2002 ballot. The initiative would amend the Florida Constitution to require most indoor workplaces, including restaurants, to become smoke- free. “Amendment 6,” as the initiative was called, would require significant public relations efforts, including paid media, as well as a large volunteer force. In order to get the initiative on the ballot, the group would have to obtain nearly half a million signatures. Quickly, the tobacco industry responded by financing an industry front group, the “Committee for Responsible Solutions.” Amendment 6 would prove to be the biggest public battle over tobacco control since the fight over the Florida Clean Indoor Air Act in 1985. And again, possibly in an effort to placate the Republican leadership and in the hope of continued program funding, SWAT sat on the sidelines. DOH administrators refused to allow SWAT to participate in the Amendment 6 initiative. After some initial excitement on the part of SWAT youth over the idea of

79 advocating for the amendment, the DOH Office of Legislative Planning dispatched a staffer to the October 2002 meeting of the SWAT BOD who delivered a PowerPoint Presentation to the youth outlining new rules for SWAT advocacy. The presentation made it clear that the Department of Health considered SWAT youth came under the same rules of issue advocacy as state employees. It reminded SWAT youth who might be considering lobbying on behalf of the amendment, that within the “DOH family,” “…only registered lobbyists may encourage the passage, defeat, or modification of legislation” (Doc. 51: slide XX). It also instituted a new requirement that "The local CHD Director must give prior approval for all 'educational' meetings with legislators” (Doc. 51:slide 5). While the November 2002 presentation did not specifically mention Amendment 6, its timing and content sent a clear message to the county staff that they would be held accountable for youth using the SWAT name to push the amendment. In a staff meeting I attended around the same time, Bodenstine, after meeting with senior DOH officials, bluntly told the FTPP staff and the SWAT BOD that program staff, and by extension SWAT youth, were required to articulate only the Governor’s policy positions; that is until the Governor issued a position on the Smoke-free workplace initiative, SWAT could not formally support it. No SWAT or Truth logos could appear at Amendment 6 rallies. County partnerships that included representatives from pro- Amendment 6 organizations like the Florida chapters of the American Lung Association, or American Cancer Society (which most did) were not allowed to use official meeting times to discuss the initiative. The ban underscored for many how far SWAT had fallen, from the heady promise of its founding five years earlier. Possibly hundreds of SWAT members and county-level advisors contributed to the passage of Amendment 6, but they had to work for it as individuals or through affiliation with other organizations. The demoralizing effect of the prohibition on Amendment 6 activity on SWAT youth and their advisors may explain in part the relative quiet with which they greeted news of the program’s de-funding, only a few months after learning of Amendment 6’s successful passage in November 2002.

80 Action Independent of the Statewide Office

In 1999 two counties successfully advocated for restrictions on tobacco product placement in retail establishments, ordinances that required retailers to place tobacco products behind the counter. Based on their success, other counties geared up to do the same. In 2000 five additional counties were successful in passing similar ordinances, and in 2001 another 16 counties did the same. The growing success in the counties on this issue is remarkable given the absence of statewide-office direction and technical support for the activity. The counties learned, rather, from each other. In conversations with field staff and SWAT members between 2001 and 2003 I was told repeatedly that technical assistance for product placement ordinance work (which included model ordinance language, guidance for surveys of local residents and businesses, and background research on the issue of tobacco retail marketing) was exclusively county-to- county. As one county found a successful strategy, it would share with others. Apparently a network had begun to form among SWAT youth and adult staffers in several counties. After 1999 they began to share ideas and coordinate activities independently of direction from the statewide office. Ultimately these networks may have been important in maintaining a focus for SWAT at the local level, after the program ceased to function at the statewide level as a player in the anti-tobacco movement. However, little is known about the extent and /or impact of these networks beyond indications of their existence through successful passage of product placement ordinances. After 2001, the trend of ordinances trailed off. Only three counties had their first successful ordinance pass in 2002, and only one in 2003. Whether the drop-off is due to “cherry-picking” (remaining counties were harder sells than those already gained) or an indication of the extent of inter-county networks (about 40% of Florida’s 67 counties passed product placement ordinances between 1999 and 2003), or, perhaps an indication of the decline in existing networks as the program aged, is unclear. I explore this issue in more detail in Chapter 6 in a section titled “Locally oriented mobilization.”

81 Summary and Discussion

Several factors, including the efforts of a populist, lame-duck Governor, an activist Attorney General, and the existence of a new public health model of policy- oriented tobacco control, conspired in the launch of Florida’s SWAT organization in 1998. That the program was shot down a year after its launch, by a new Administration in ideological opposition (on tobacco industry regulation) to the one it replaced, was a testament to the program’s claim to social movement organization status. The Bush Administration muzzled SWAT because SWAT could have challenged the Administration’s authority to set tobacco policy as it saw fit. The manner in which the Administration silenced SWAT is interesting. Rather than eliminate the program outright, SWAT was maintained, but as something other than as a social movement organization. SWAT’s location within the bureaucracy made it possible for the Administration to control the group’s agenda, remove its media “voice”, and limit its ability to engage potentially sensitive issues. Resistance to administration interference on the part of SWAT youth could also be mitigated through the youth’s dependence on adult staff. For the Bush Administration, this was the best of both worlds. It could claim a commitment to aggressive tobacco control efforts, and responsible use of the tobacco settlement, while managing those efforts so that there was little pressure for real reform on state tobacco policies. Tobacco taxes in Florida have remained stagnant during Bush’s two terms as Governor, even as they have risen dramatically in other states. Other missed opportunities include a second round of state lawsuits against the tobacco industry, which Florida’s Republican Attorney General, Charlie Crist, declined to participate in. For youth in SWAT, infected by the exuberance and optimism of the Truth Train and the early truth ads, the internal changes must have been confusing and dispiriting. The Tobacco Program engaged their idealism and youthful optimism, then used the youth to provide political cover for an administration uninterested in “fighting Big Tobacco.” Their activities (at the local level), their attitudes toward themselves and toward tobacco control after their program was muzzled, are the subject of the following chapter.

82 CHAPTER 6 PARTICIPATION IN SWAT

This chapter presents findings from a series of focus groups of SWAT youth conducted at eight sites in Spring 200118 that makes use of the SWAT member’s own words to gain insight into how the program was experienced by its membership. Analysis of SWAT members “talk” about SWAT, about tobacco, and about themselves provides a rich understanding of the tobacco program itself, beyond that available from a top-down viewpoint, as presented in Chapter 5. The findings highlight some of the complex dynamics of SWAT membership—the youths’ awareness, understanding, attitudes, and emotions toward themselves, their organization, and the focus of their work at a point in the program’s history two years after it suffered major disruptions and re- direction from the top. The protest of April 1999 (described in Chapter 5) and its aftermath sensitized surviving staffers to the possible political fallout that would arise if students actively mobilized. The tobacco program faced the dilemma of, on the one hand, maintaining SWAT’s basic organizational framework as an anti-tobacco “youth movement” versus the other of deterring the youth from focusing on the actions of State decision makers who were undercutting tobacco control efforts. State and local workers—adults— resolved the dilemma by restructuring SWAT and removing meaningful youth input from the youth media campaign (known as “Truth”), therefore marginalizing SWAT youth within the statewide tobacco program. Program administrators accomplished this while largely maintaining the rhetoric of social action that had inspired the first cohort of SWAT members. The absence of a genuine statewide action agenda for SWAT probably helped the tobacco program survive in a hostile political environment but it did have costs. In this chapter, I document these costs through the experiences of SWAT members themselves, some of whom struggled to redefine themselves and their activities relative to social action goals.

18 For a more detailed explanation of the data collection procedures used, see Chapter 3—Methods.

83 Readers of the chapter will learn several things. One, as noted above, they will gain insights into the youth’s intentions, experiences, and perceptions about SWAT and their participation in the program. Second, they will gain insights into how SWAT changed over time, from a fairly active “social movement like” organization to one that lost its focus and turned inward or did nothing at all. In line with the latter point, this chapter shows that some youth had little idea of what SWAT was about while others had a fairly accurate understanding of what it formerly was and did and were saddened or disappointed over its change in direction. In at least three of the eight sites studied, the lack of focus on tobacco issues or movement tactics is so extreme as to suggest that local SWAT teams have been hijacked or re-purposed away from their supposed mission of organizing youth to “fight Big Tobacco.” In other sites, where SWAT youth maintained a focus on tobacco, there remains the question of what they were able to do, collectively, within the opportunities and constraints provided by the SWAT organization. I examine factors that bear on an assessment of the youth’s level of power or empowerment within the organization. Regarding sociological contributions, I use the concepts of collective identity (Melucci 1989), collective action frame (Snow et al. 1986) and emotional transformation in social movements (Collins 2001; Gould 2001) to identify ways in which SWAT members function as social movement actors, and to suggest how this function was limited or compromised. This chapter sheds light on questions reviewed in earlier chapters about whether it is possible for states to sponsor successful social movements. I address questions raised by Wolfson (2001) regarding the state of Minnesota’s tobacco control efforts and his concept of “state-movement interpenetration.” The chapter identifies conditions that limited empowerment among the youth, with empowerment defined broadly as the ability to set and pursue their own agendas, or to function as social movement actors. Key (relevant to mobilization) emotions among youthful members associated with participating in SWAT are reported and discussed. While some youth felt passionately about SWAT, and/or its agenda of social change, others were minimally invested and showed little affect one way or the other toward SWAT or its goals. Finally, I explore the social movement concept of micro-macro linkages of identities and interests. Both the conditions that prompted SWAT members to align their

84 interests with those of the organization as originally conceived and those that discouraged such frame alignment (see Burawoy 1998 for a discussion of methodological issues in the study of macro-micro linkages). More than any other chapter, Chapter 6 brings to bear social movement theory and issues to understand the development of SWAT and its actual practice by youth who participated in it two or more years after it was itself “swatted” by the governor and powers that be in the state capital. In order to identify the diverse character of various SWAT groups, key characteristics of each site and major themes of the focus group discussions, including the youth’s activities, attitudes toward tobacco control, motivations, and perceptions of the benefits of participation. I explore in detail three conceptual issues that facilitate analysis of the focus group data. First, I explore the notion of empowerment in terms of its dimensions and limitations. Second, I use the concept of frame alignment (Snow et al., 1986) to explore relations between SWAT members’ approaches to the problem of tobacco, their attempts to address the problem, and their ability to sustain organized effort. In this regard, I use, Snow et al.’s (1986) model of the prognostic, diagnostic, and motivational moments in the development of a collective action frame for social movement mobilization. Third, as noted, I explore motivational issues by asking questions about the emotional aspects of some members’ motivations. In sum, this chapter is largely an examination of data that bear on SWAT member’s own understandings of their experiences in 2001, analyzed specifically in terms of several analytic tools developed for the study of micro-mobilization issues in social movement organizations. Though, I explore the “fit” of the data to the theories, the result of this exercise is geared rather toward focusing on the areas in which a lack of fit is apparent. This serves to highlight areas in which SWAT seemed to fulfill the promise of a model state-sponsored social movement organization, and, more to the point, offers insights into the ways in which that promise was unrealized, thereby raising questions about the prospects for other “state-movement interpenetrations” in other settings.

85 Who Are the SWAT Youth?

A complete accounting of SWAT membership between 1998 and 2003 is unavailable. Internally generated membership counts over the period are incomplete and probably unreliable. A statewide survey of school children conducted in 2000 estimated the total number of SWAT youth to be around 7% of the middle and 5% of the high school population, or a SWAT membership of approximately 70,000. This estimate, based on self-report, seems high, but is not out of the question. What fraction of that was “active” membership is unknown. We do know that no statewide SWAT event drew over 500 or 600 youth, and the famous sit-in protest of 1999 was carried out by fewer than 40 youth. If SWAT maintained a massive statewide membership, it was a low- profile one. Demographically, based on the most reliable estimates available, we find that a SWAT member was slightly more likely to be a girl than a boy in 2000. Caucasians were in the majority, although African Americans participated at higher rates than their fraction of the general population of school kids would indicate. Hispanic youth participated at about the same rate as Non-Hispanic whites. The SWAT Board of Directors was similarly diverse. Statewide, then, SWAT seems a remarkably heterogeneous group, although that does not imply heterogeneity at smaller units of organization. Some SWAT teams were probably all white, or all black, a condition not inconsistent with lingering patterns of residential/school segregation in many parts of Florida. Tables 4.1 and 4.2 in Chapter 4 summarize some of the demographic characteristics of the study sites and the focus group interviewees. As a whole, the composition of the interviews reflects the diversity in SWAT, although as a function of their selection into the study, the interviewees almost certainly reflect a sub-group of SWAT youth who are more active than their peers. The interviewees range widely on gender and ethnicity, urban/rural, time in SWAT, and level of experience, like the larger population of SWAT youth. Beyond demographics, who are the SWAT youth? It’s possible to explore this question using the focus groups as a guide. They reveal a diverse membership of high

86 achievers, true believers, and hangers on. Some are driven by a desire to “make a difference” in the world, others have a personal grievance against tobacco; still others see opportunities for personal advancement, college scholarships, free travel, and food. For all those who seemed passionate about tobacco issues, there were others who appreciated the social and affective benefits of group membership—meetings, friendships, a sense of belonging. The complex construction of motivations to participate in SWAT is a frequent point of return for the analysis that follows.

The Typical SWAT Team

One of the defining characteristics of SWAT as presented through formal program literature and materials (see Chapter 6 and section below in this chapter on “Maintaining the focus of SWAT” for more on this) is its image as an organization of anti-tobacco “activist” youth rather than a prevention program aimed at deterring use among its membership. Two things about this characterization are key. At a basic level it is the orientation of interventions and outcomes-- outward toward the community, rather than inward toward the SWAT youth themselves. In materials published by the tobacco program, SWAT youth were always presented by the program as the instrument of program interventions rather than the target. Neither are SWAT youths’ peers necessarily targets for intervention: generally the target identified in SWAT literature is “Big Tobacco” and the interventions developed as “Statewide Advocacy Activities” (discussed in Chapter 6) employed corresponding social action oriented methods appropriate to “fighting Big Tobacco” rather than individually oriented methods targeted to tobacco consumers. By way of contrast to a well-known youth anti-drug campaign, the SWAT program’s message could be aptly characterized as “just get involved” as opposed to “just say no.” Given the construction of SWAT at the statewide level as an activist organization, we might expect to find SWAT organized at the local level into groups with activist orientations paralleling the social action orientation of the statewide group. However, the evidence proved much more complicated. Table 6.1 (below) describes the eight sites

87 studied, including the BOD (statewide leadership) group and seven local SWAT sites.19 Highlights and descriptions from each site offer a condensed account of the “look and feel” of the sites, especially with respect to the overall focus of the interview(s).

19 Composition of the interviews, including the demographic characteristics of the interviewees, is reported in Chapter 3.

88 Table 6.1 Highlights of focus group sites Site name Description Key interview highlights SWAT Board of The 67-member statewide leadership group. • Group focus was on their (the BOD’s) perceived responsibility Directors Closer communication with program for maintaining SWAT over time. (two interviews) administrators than the rank and file. The BOD • Complained of the difficulty in motivating SWAT members meets quarterly and plans statewide advocacy outside the BOD (the rank-and-file). campaigns and formally reviews decisions by • Interviewees were enthusiastic generally, and seemed to draw program administrators. Not surprisingly, group enthusiasm primarily from their participation in statewide members’ talk about tobacco closely reflected functions (e.g. BOD meetings), rather than their participation in the program’s official rhetoric. locally based activities.

Gator County Rural N. Florida setting. Site was a high-school • Group efforts focused on the creation of a “youth run” SWAT classroom. Relatively strong group cohesion in community teen center. (two interviews) this group. Interviewees appeared motivated • Active participation on the teen center seemed to provide a and enthusiastic. They were also relatively strong motivation among them, and was a source of group articulate—aware of themselves as part of a cohesion and enthusiasm. statewide organization, and as part of an anti- • Tobacco-related activities (which mostly involved health tobacco movement. Beyond the rhetoric, education to younger children) were a secondary focus at best. however, there was little tobacco-related activity • No tobacco-related social action agenda. going on. Panhandle County A N. E. Florida coastal community popular as a • No group activity focus, but health education is prominent. Site 1 tourist destination. Site was a middle-school • In contrast to Gator Co. groups, described SWAT meetings and classroom. Geographically isolated teams don’t activities as “boring.” function as a coherent countywide group. In the • Expressed a commitment to an anti-smoking lifestyle, rather coastal section of the county (site 1), the than commitment to anti-tobacco activism. dispirited team appears to be in decline in terms • Complained of the ongoing difficulty in maintaining an active of membership numbers. membership and of a rejection of their “cause” by their peers. • No tobacco-related social action agenda. Panhandle County A rural, geographically isolated community in • Group efforts focused on “Youth Explosion 2000”—a faith- Site 2 N.E. Florida. The SWAT team is based in or based youth fair. associated with a church-based youth group that • Interviewees had limited awareness of the larger SWAT appears to have a broad drug-diversion mission. organization or its aims. Some were unaware of the Truth ad These were among the youngest in age of any of campaign. the groups interviewed, and were among the • Little enthusiasm expressed toward tobacco control issues. least articulate on tobacco-related issues. • No tobacco-related social action agenda.

Table 6.1 continued Site name Description Interview highlights and overview Roma County An urban, coastal community in S.W. Florida. Site • Group efforts focused on maintaining a declining membership Site 1 was a county health department. Older and more • General focus on (and resentment of) issues of funding and articulate interviewees than Panhandle, but unlike control relative to adult advisors in the county. Gator County, little identification with a • Defensive about the idea that they aren’t “anti-smoker,” which “movement.” Instead, participation for these youth seems to be a recurring issue within the group. seems to be a personal statement about not • Motivational/maintenance problems similar to Panhandle 1 and smoking. 2. • No tobacco-related social action agenda. Roma County A “SWAT team” based inside a facility for juvenile • No apparent SWAT activities at all. Site 2 offenders in a remote section of Roma county, and • Seemed to have limited contact with and little understanding of an apparent institutional re-purposing of the SWAT the SWAT organization outside the facility. model. These members’ incarcerated status made • No tobacco-related social action agenda. conventional SWAT activities impossible. Instead, participation seems to be viewed as part of a drug- rehabilitation plan. Urbana County A major urban area on the Central Florida coast. • Group efforts focused on local tobacco policy change, including (two interviews) Site was a county youth-recreation building. While a (recently passed) tobacco retail product placement county they seemed more engaged in statewide activities ordinance, and increasing numbers of restaurants with no- than other groups, they seemed primarily driven by smoking policies. a locally originating action agenda. • Like Gator Co., participants expressed a high degree of motivation and enthusiasm, but in this case, apparently fueled by a sense of outrage targeted toward the tobacco industry, as well as state officials. • Active tobacco-related social action agenda. Seashore A coastal community in N.W. Florida with a tourist- • No single group activity focus, but health education activities County based economy similar to Panhandle (site 1) but figure prominently. (two interviews) on the opposite coast. Site was a CHD facility. • Motivational/maintenance problems similar to Panhandle and Participants seemed to be struggling to collectively Roma 1 identify themselves and their “cause.” • Possible tobacco-related social action agenda: two participants indicated they intended to work toward a product placement ordinance sometime in the future.

These seven “local” interview sites (plus the BOD “leadership” site) spread out across the state, present a range of organizational forms of SWAT. With the exception of the SWAT team at the Roma 2 site, all of the local teams are comprised of area Middle and High School youth and based either at the school or at a community facility. The existence of the Roma 2 site, based inside a correctional institution, raises the question— was the formal designation “SWAT” enough to presume a SWAT team’s mission and function? The Roma 2 site was unique enough to be treated as an outlier for the purpose of identifying characteristic SWAT features. The site was a privately operated residential juvenile detention facility and the SWAT team was comprised entirely of incarcerated individuals. Largely cut-off from the rest of SWAT, physically and communicatively, the focus group members at this site offered a markedly different account of the SWAT organization than their peers at other sites. They described it simply as a way to help them control their own tobacco use. They did not engage in anti-tobacco outreach work of any sort. Though there may have been other factors specific to the facility that accounted for their participation, (like rewards for “good behavior”) these were not expressed within the focus group. Regardless, this Roma 2 SWAT team was incapable of functioning as a SWAT team in the commonly accepted view, and so need to be treated separately. The uniqueness of the Roma 2 site illustrates the extent of diversity across focus group sites themselves, and raises the question of what I call the re-purposing of SWAT teams. By re-purposing I mean the use of the SWAT name to fund other youth organizations or programs, including those that are predominantly non-tobacco related, effectively hijacking the SWAT name and SWAT’s funding supply to further a variety of local causes. This re-purposing was not always apparent, but became evident during the focus group interviews or on review of the transcripts. While the uniqueness and re-purposing of the Roma 2 site was immediately apparent, other sites, including especially Gator and Panhandle 2 also deviated substantially from the norm of SWAT in important respects. On the surface, the Panhandle 2 site was like many others, although the members were markedly less sophisticated in their grasp of both tobacco issues and the larger SWAT organization.

91 This group included a statewide representative who had attended at least one BOD meeting, and so presumably had some orientation to the larger organization and its purpose. As a group, then, this SWAT team should have had access, though their BOD representative and team-mate, to an orientation toward the organization that closely followed the model, as developed in Tallahassee. In other words, we would expect the SWAT teams that contained the county representative to the BOD to be more “in the loop” than other teams. Analysis of the Panhandle 2 interview shows at least three areas of substantial departure from the norm of SWAT, leading to the conclusion that it had been re- purposed, though in a different way than the Roma 2 site. First, the SWAT team was located in a church, which was unusual in itself. Most SWAT teams statewide were school-based. Only a few were so called “community based” teams. Most of these were run by the county, and located in recreation centers or other county youth facilities. Secondly, the biggest SWAT activity of recent memory for these youth was their sponsorship of something called “Youth Explosion 2000”—a day long festival located at the church featuring Christian-rock bands and inspirational messages, and evidently little- to-no tobacco-related content. Third, the way the group described the county partnership indicated another departure from the norm. Most counties’ anti-tobacco partnerships were comprised primarily of other anti-tobacco organizations plus other “community organizations,” in an effort to build a coalition around tobacco issues. Panhandle 2 youth described their partnership rather as comprised of other youth-focused groups, including 4H, drug-prevention groups, and “Campfire Boys and Girls.” According to one interviewee: “It's just a bunch of other groups aimed.. aimed at teens, basically” (White girl, Age 14, Panhandle 2). The shift in the composition of community partnerships in some counties from tobacco groups to youth groups speaks to the subtle repurposing of the SWAT organization. It suggests that county partnerships were not necessarily organized around the idea that SWAT youth would be the core of a countywide anti-tobacco effort that would include other local anti-tobacco organizations (as was the case under California’s model of designating and funding what they called Local Lead Agencies) but rather that SWAT might be seen as a youth service club like 4-H or the Boy Scouts. The difference

speaks to the sincerity with which state officials described SWAT as an anti-tobacco “youth movement,” and raises the question of what SWAT was actually intended to do.

SWAT Activities

Activities were a central focus of all the interviews. Each group was encouraged to discuss the things they had done in SWAT, and each group discussed their activities at length. In all, participants mentioned something they had done in SWAT at least 149 times over the course of the 12 interviews. Codes were assigned to these mentions on the following basis: each time the activity was mentioned by a new speaker it was coded. Repeated references to an activity within a single block of text (by the same speaker) were not coded. So, if an interviewee discussed an activity at length, and referred to it by name several times, this would receive one code, but if the activity was mentioned by several speakers in sequence, it would receive as many codes as speakers, and if a speaker returned to discuss an activity a several points during the interview, each return to the activity would receive one code. The object was to measure the salience of various activities through their recurrence in the conversation, while controlling for repetition. I coded nine types of activities mentioned by the interviewees, as described in table 6.2. Also in table 6.2 I have attempted to organize activities into three basic types: social action, health education, and organizational maintenance based on the focus or message of the activity. I also coded “other” for cases in which an interviewee mentioned an activity that either had no tobacco related message, or its message was unspecified or unclear. Activities oriented toward social action are oriented to the social environment of smoking, specifically macro issues of tobacco industry behavior and tobacco regulation or policy. Health education activities, including community and peer health education and cessation, are oriented to consumer or individual life-style and behavioral factors in tobacco use. Organization maintenance activities include those where the stated purpose was to “get the word out” about SWAT—including the distribution of promotional and recruiting materials as well as hosting or sponsoring teen “SWAT” parties, dances or concerts.

93 Table 6.2: Types of SWAT activities Code Description Activity Promoting SWAT Paid ads or distribution of materials or Op-ed pieces Organizational focused on explaining or promoting SWAT. maintenance Anti industry P.R. Public information campaigns designed to publicly Social action expose tobacco industry wrongdoing or otherwise delineate a target for tobacco industry policy reforms Community Public information campaigns designed to focus Health education health ed attention on health consequences of tobacco use Elementary/peer School based interventions designed to focus attention Health education health ed on health consequences of tobacco use Policy, voluntary Attempts to influence the voluntary adoption of tobacco Social action restrictive policy by businesses and/or officials. Often involving smoke-free dining or smoke-free school policies Policy, legislated Attempts to influence the passage of restrictive tobacco Social action legislation by counties and municipalities Recruiting Activities with overt or stated recruiting purpose, Organizational including teen dances and parties. maintenance Unclear Activities without clear tobacco control content. Other

The finding of activities with unclear20 content raises the question of the extent to which SWAT members identified with the role of anti-tobacco activist. Many SWAT members in 2001 seem to be happy to just have fun with their friends. As one interviewee put it: “We don't sit in meetings all the time.. we do things like parties and dances and all kinds of stuff that's fun and exciting” (African American boy, age 15, Seashore). A casual approach to mission and goal is evident even in some activities that were mentioned in relation to specified functions: one “recruiting” event was described this way: “A lot of kids didn't even know it was a SWAT dance. We had a little table there and some people were signing up as they came in the door, but some people didn't want to, of course” (White boy, age 14, Seashore).

20 Activities with “unclear” messages were usually unspecified as to their purpose, in other words, the interviewee mentioned an activity by name but didn’t describe it or suggest what its function was. Such activities included “dances” (BOD, Gator, Seashore), a “lock in” (BOD), a trip to Busch Gardens theme park (Gator), a “battle of the bands” (Roma) among others. Most of these probably had a putative, though unstated, recruiting focus, based on other mentions of youth-entertainment type activities with that stated purpose. The difficulty in classifying these activities is partly due to limitations of the dataset. They did not say and we, the interviewers, neglected to probe for details. However, this lack of specification may also reflect a basic ambiguity in the nature of some (if not most) SWAT activities, consistent with an organizational culture that was without focus.

Other unclear activities that were non-tobacco related included sponsorship of a religious festival (Panhandle 2), funding of a youth recreation facility (Gator), and lobbying for sidewalks (Seashore). One youth explained the need for SWAT to do non- tobacco related activities in order to insure the team’s good standing at the school: We are a club at the high school and we do "club" sort of things, like the club picture. We kind of have to keep our reputation of being a good club, like, last year we did a teacher breakfast that really had nothing to do with anti-tobacco, but there was something that we could do for our school for the teachers (White girl, age 16, Panhandle 1). This quote speaks to a couple of issues: first, the need to ingratiate SWAT to the community and the school. This was a real problem, and one mentioned frequently by tobacco program staff at statewide meetings. Many staffers complained about hostility on the part of the schools to SWAT teams and SWAT messages, especially in regard to social activist messages. Secondly, the “teacher breakfast” mentioned above had no putative tobacco control function, but presumably entailed costs that were paid for with tobacco program dollars. Other “activities” with little or no anti-tobacco purpose were mentioned by interviewees and also paid for with tobacco program funds, although it is difficult to assess the extent of this practice. I explore this issue later in a section on Money. Comparing the frequency of activities oriented toward social action, relative to other activities, allows us to gauge of the relative strength of the group’s social action agenda. Table 6.3 shows the number and type of activities (described above in Table 6.2) mentioned by group, and the ratio of Social Action agenda to other activities. It shows is that the distribution of activities by type from site to site was uneven. Of particular interest is the skew in Urbana County toward Social Action and its dissimilarity to the other “local” sites, which were either “balanced” in their activity (Seashore), or sharply skewed away from Social Action (Gator, both Panhandle sites, and Roma 1). As discussed earlier, the Roma 2 site mentioned no activities.

95 Table 6.3: SWAT activities mentioned by type and site Pan- Pan- handle handle Roma Roma BOD Gator 1 2 1 2 Urbana Seashore Total Social Action 14 1 1 0 1 0 27 7 51 Health Education 10 8 7 6 2 0 4 6 43 Org. Maintenance 8 1 1 1 4 0 9 7 31 Other (inc. unclear) 5 7 2 3 2 0 0 5 24 Total 37 17 11 10 9 0 40 25 149

Knowing the “fuzziness” of the data points included in this table, by which I mean counting “mentions” of activities rather than activities directly, it serves to indicate differences of focus from site to site. The question “What do you do in SWAT” produced answers that were sometimes reticent and sometimes voluble. The Roma 2 site mentioned no activities and it is unlikely they conducted any, considering their state of incarceration. Absolute counts of activities for other sites should also be viewed with suspicion, as they may reflect differences in the textual “thickness” from interview to interview rather than differences in actual activity levels. However, comparing ratios of activity types between sites is useful, specifically in order to see at a glance the general focus of each site. Most of the social action oriented activity focus found in SWAT was taking place at only three of the eight sites studied. The counts for these three sites are almost entirely due to two phenomena: statewide activities (mentioned almost exclusively by BOD youth), and County tobacco product-placement ordinances (mentioned by BOD, Urbana, and Seashore interviewees). Both these phenomena are discussed in detail later in this chapter. The distinction between statewide activities and product placement activities is important because while the statewide office promoted the former, they ignored the latter. Counties were given no specific guidance for ordinance work by the statewide tobacco office and had to develop strategies of policy intervention independently. I take this as evidence of local mobilization in SWAT, a concept I develop later in this chapter. Two sites (BOD and Seashore) can be described as mixed or having a diluted Social Action agenda. The remaining three (Gator, Panhandle 2, and Roma 2) have previously been described as re-purposed. But the distribution of activities at these re-

purposed sites is not noticeably different from two sites not designated as such (Panhandle 1 and Roma 1), suggesting that something other than wholesale re-purposing of local SWAT teams was responsible for the apparent dilution or abandonment of SWAT’s Social Action agenda observed at most of the sites. It is worth noting that one of the mixed activity sites, the BOD site, is the leadership site. The fifteen youth interviewed at that site represented fifteen different counties; moreover, they represent the core of SWAT and should most faithfully represent the ideal form of the organization. If these youth present a diluted social action agenda, then most likely the organization as a whole has lost that focus.

The Primacy of the “Health Message”

Sensing the absence of a focus on statewide advocacy campaigns, we interviewers were curious as to what constituted participation in SWAT in March of 2001. We probed participants on the nature of their participation in SWAT, that is, we asked what they did in SWAT, as opposed to what SWAT is. Two divergent themes emerged in the course of the discussions: a shift toward health education activities, especially those targeted to elementary school aged children, and a (less pervasive) focus on local policy issues, especially retail tobacco product placement and the creation of smoke-free public places. When we asked focus group participants what they themselves did through SWAT, we got a range of answers, which sorted out into four basic types of activities: work on a statewide advocacy campaign; work on a local policy issue (usually a product placement ordinance); health education and dramatizations directed toward elementary school aged children or toward the public at large (through participation in a health fair); and participation in SWAT “recruiting” events with little or no tobacco content. The last two types were much more frequently mentioned than the first two, overall. Of the first two, statewide advocacy campaigns were barely mentioned (see below for a discussion of Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is), and discussion of ordinance work was limited to some members of the BOD groups and two of the five counties. Participation in statewide advocacy campaigns and local policy work can be thought of as vehicles for the overtly political/social “manipulation message” approach.

97 As for the latter two types of activities, health education and recruiting, these represented the bulk of answers group members gave when asked what they actually did. Participants talked about sponsoring rock concerts at their schools and holding dances to recruit members. They also talked frequently and favorably about presenting skits and demonstrations to elementary school kids: “We go around and we do puppet shows for the elementary students” (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). “The most important thing I've done is to be a peer teacher…” (White girl, age 17, BOD). “At my school, we go to the elementary school a lot to do critical education and if we can go to the younger generation and let them know, ‘hey....don't start smoking, tobacco is not good for you’ and let them understand that, then there will be less talking to do when they're older” (African American girl, age 18, BOD). “We went and read to a day-care one time, it was one of those, it was like the Bernstein Bears or something like that and it was like about not smoking…” (White boy, age 18, Gator). As these comments indicate, when the activity involved peer education, the message delivered by SWAT was consistently health education, rather than social activism. One participant stated the problem, as they saw it, more-or-less directly: We were about the manipulation. I love it when someone can specifically say, when they been in SWAT, can say ‘hey....this is exactly what we're about.’ We have kids who's been in SWAT for years and they say, ‘oh....we’re against people who smoke’-- and that bothers you. I think we were doing a great job because we....we were....kind of cool, you know, that's the way we started out, we were a cool club, you know, with that whole truth thing going on, but also the way we did it, we didn't go out there and say, ‘don't smoke’, we went out there and said, ‘hey....here's what we're doing’… The younger kids, I think they should be part of the program, you should let them know, you know. But like right now, in most counties, in our county, when we work with young kids, we don't do the manipulation thing, cause it's kind of hard for them to understand.... I think we should work with younger kids, but if we're gonna work with younger kids, DARE, you know, DARE and all that stuff didn't work, you know. Our statistics starting working when we said ‘manipulation’....not when we said ‘don't, you know, don't smoke because we're telling you to’. (White boy, age 17, Gator).

These and similar comments suggest that at least a portion of the SWAT membership was aware of the change in direction toward health education, and were disappointed. Others spoke of these activities uncritically. And in one group (described later in this chapter), participants attempted to reconcile health education with social activism. By 2001, the contrast between the catchphrases “manipulation message” and “health message” had taken on a high degree of significance within the program. The terms represented, for many within the program, opposite poles in what was perceived as an ideological struggle for the soul of SWAT. Although lines were never clearly drawn and alliances shifted from topic to topic, proponents of the SWAT anti-industry manipulation message included most of the more vocal SWAT leadership, some adult SWAT staff in Tallahassee and some field staff. They advocated the idea of SWAT youth as aggressive grassroots tobacco control advocates. This included an insistence on real youth decision-making power within the organization, including youth control of the Truth campaign’s direction and tone. Those in the “manipulation” camp were often dismissed by other staff and DOH administrators as too “political” in their orientation. The positions they took, while sometimes acknowledged as a return to early program style, were nevertheless perceived as politically dangerous by 2001. Rarely explicit, there was a tacit understanding among program staff that mobilizing SWAT youth at the statewide level could lead to repression by the state administration or attacks on the program’s funding by legislators. Program administrators, and DOH senior administrators, were trying to steer SWAT away from mobilization, even as they maintained support for the rhetoric. Several issues emerged or existed in 2001 that represented opportunities for mobilization. Among them was the Governor’s decision in late 2000 to reinvest the state’s pension plan in tobacco stocks (reversing a 1997 Chiles Administration divestment), a legislative budget cut for the FTCP (the third successive cut to the program), and a three month long “travel ban” on state government that affected SWAT’s ability to hold statewide activities (including BOD meetings). Each of these issues was raised by SWAT BOD members at BOD meetings and ideas were presented for rallies, petitions, and other actions. Each (and all other initiatives for action on statewide policy

99 issues) was dropped after consultation with senior adult advisors within the program office. By the time of the interviews, the reinvestment decision had not occurred, but the travel ban and the funding cuts were recurring points of discussion at a few sites, and attitudes revealed toward the current administration and legislature were unanimously negative: Regarding the funding cuts, some SWAT members had this to say: [Chiles] believed in us… and all of a sudden, Jeb Bush gets there and he wants to cut our funding. Lawton Chiles put that money aside for us, he didn't put aside for anything else, he said, ‘give it to the youth’ (African American boy, age 17, BOD). We really need more funding because it's just a shame. We can't do some of the stuff we want because we don't have enough money. If we could, like, go to the state ask them to fund us some more, because we're funded off of the tobacco settlement. If we ask the state legislation to fund us some more, I think we'll be fine (African American boy, age 14, Seashore). Since we're not funded at our optimum level it's, it's putting a real hardship on the program. The legislature, I can't understand… I personally can't understand how they could not fund us at our optimum level. The money's there because you know it's coming from the, from the settlement money. The money is definitely there… in Florida we have the most successful anti-tobacco program in the world. So, I just don't see where the logic is, where they couldn't fund us at you know, what's available (White boy, age 15, Urbana). Other than at these three sites (BOD, Urbana, and Seashore), there was no discussion of funding issues. Interviewees at these three sites, to different degrees, showed an awareness of the political context of SWAT lacking at the other sites. The differences in the political consciousness among the three is also interesting. Note the tone of each of the above three statements. The first, from a BOD member idealizes Lawton Chiles (the former Governor of Florida), and indicates regret, even resignation at SWAT’s loss of its champion. The second, from Seashore, shows awareness of the problem caused by budget cuts, and naiveté in the proposed solution (just ask for the money? Why sure!). The third budget comment (Urbana) is different. Not only is there a relatively

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sophisticated awareness of the political history of the program compared to the other two youth but there is also a noticeable sense of anger or outrage directed toward the legislature and its role in funding the program. As for the travel ban (in effect at the time of the interviews), interviewees at only two of the sites (BOD and Urbana) raised the topic. One BOD member expressed sadness that the ban was interfering with group solidarity among the BOD: Basically I think we should have either more regional activities or have basically more statewide activities that we can all come together, but I know that's hard now, because we got that little ban going on. [What ban?] Travel… Travel ban, yeah. That's one of the things that's upsetting me right now (White girl, age 18, BOD). Two Urbana youth added specificity to the complaint about the travel ban, and placed it within a broader issue of restrictions on SWAT: [1st participant] This year, the statewide teen summit… we were cut down to six people per county attending the team summit and that's just ridiculous, I mean... [2nd participant] And the board of directors meeting for May was cancelled altogether. [1st participant] Yeah, yeah. Governor Bush put a... [2nd participant] Just shoved it to the side. [1st participant] ...put a, put a hold on travel in the State, and the Department of Health. So, that prevents us also from having our Board of Directors meetings you know, effectively. And I mean, that's really our biggest problem (White boy, age 15, Urbana; White girl, age 18, Urbana). That the BOD member quoted in the first passage above voices a concern with the travel restrictions, even though most of the local sites do not, is explained perhaps by the salience of the problem for BOD members. They travel often to statewide meetings and events. That the two Urbana youth share this concern speaks to something different. Neither speaker in the second passage quoted above was a BOD member, nor was the Urbana BOD representative present in that interview. Why was the travel ban salient to them, and not, apparently, to their peers in the other study sites? I believe these Urbana youths’ comments, consistent with their deportment throughout the interviews, reflect a group identity among these SWAT youth as anti-tobacco activists. I support this claim in the section that follows.

101 Locally Oriented Mobilization

There was one departure from the trend away from social activism that surfaced during the group discussions—locally oriented mobilization, especially that oriented toward lobbying for county and municipal retail-tobacco product placement ordinances. Beginning in 1999, county SWAT teams, working with local anti-tobacco partners, began to successfully advocate for county and municipal ordinances that required retailers to place tobacco products behind the counter, under the control of clerks and away from customers. Between 1999 and 2003, 28 county SWAT teams successfully advocated for product placement ordinances. This type of activity had been promoted in other states, notably ASSIST project sites and California (discussed in Chapters 2 and 5), but it was not part of any statewide campaign in Florida, nor did the headquarters office provide training or assistance. The rationale for ordinances was provided by published research21 indicating the tobacco industry actively worked to promote shoplifting of cigarettes by minors by reimbursing retailers for losses. Of the five counties in the study group, Urbana had recently gotten a product placement ordinance passed. By this time, 10 other counties had some form of product placement ordinance, some were county wide, others covered one or more municipalities within the county. The year 2002 was the probably the peak time for this activity across the state. In addition to their high degree of relevance to broader anti-tobacco movement objectives, product placement ordinances were one of the few local policy areas open to change in Florida. Local secondhand smoking regulation was impossible due to a preemption clause in the Florida Clean Indoor Air Act dating back to 1985. Tighter controls on tobacco advertising, although attempted in two Florida Counties, violated provisions of constitutionally protected commercial speech. Underage sales bans were already in effect. Product placement offered a clear, if limited, opportunity to get involved in tobacco policy at the local level. Neither product placement ordinances nor SWAT involvement in health education were formally promoted by the Tallahassee office prior to 2001 (neither

21 For public health research on slotting fees see Feighery et al. (1999) and Bloom (2001)

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through the Change it! guide nor by the statewide advocacy campaigns). Regarding the ordinances, I saw little informal support either. What I did see was headquarters staff directing questions from the field toward other counties, rather than providing technical support directly or developing an official position. There seemed to be at the time a general consensus that ordinance work was broadly consistent with the mission of SWAT, but given the program’s experience with politically active SWAT members (discussed in Chapter 5), no one seemed eager to formally support the activity. Interest groups within the county, like chambers of commerce, often opposed efforts to pass product placement ordinances. Statewide groups, like the Florida Petroleum Marketers Association and the (remarkably named) Florida Tobacco & Candy Association, did also. The interest groups often argued that the ordinances were an unnecessary expense, and would hurt mom-and-pop convenience store owners who could not afford the remodeling expenses of housing and displaying tobacco products behind the counter. To counter these arguments, county SWAT teams gathered petitions, surveyed convenience stores to document where tobacco products were placed (often near candy and/or out of the clerk’s line of sight), and developed presentations to county commissions on youth smoking within the county and tobacco’s health effects. Lacking support from Tallahassee, they turned to other sources, including internet sites and local chapters of health voluntary groups like the American Lung Association. Also, the SWAT teams turned to each other. The first counties to get product placement ordinances became resources for others, providing technical assistance for effective research and lobbying. Discussion of their own recently passed product placement ordinance was prominent in both Urbana County groups. In the first group, the topic came up almost half-way through the interview, as the group members were attempting to explain their motivations for participating in SWAT. They implied SWAT allowed them to take on more powerful roles than those usually offered to adolescents. One contrasted how SWAT members are perceived with how youth are usually seen by adults It's like a lot of adults they see, they see teens like running around the street doing drugs, smoking, having sex, having babies and everything… It's like all of us

103 come together and say ‘We're doing this’. And it's like, wow, a lot of adults feel like, ‘Well, I didn't even know you could do that’, you know (African American boy, age 15, Urbana). Asked to elaborate, another youth chimed in: It's like we run things, like, especially the business part of it. We went to the board of county commissioners, you know, and when they were talking about the ordinance and they were talking about all this tough business that they do, we could understand because we do the same thing (African American boy, age 18, Urbana). The product placement ordinance work provided a focus for the Urbana County SWAT team that was lacking in other counties in the study. Earlier, Urbana youth were shown to be more attuned to SWAT’s political context than their peers in the study. Urbana was also the only local study site to show active participation in the statewide advocacy campaign Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is. With a sample of eight sites and a cell size of one it is impossible to suggest possible causative relationships between ordinance work, awareness of and ability to articulate the program’s political reality, and active participation in statewide advocacy campaigns. Nevertheless the three variables coincided in Urbana County, and were altogether absent from the other study counties.

Constructions of Collective Identity in SWAT

Melucci (1989) outlined three elements in the formation of collective identity in social movements (discussed in Chapter 2). One is the idea of “active relationships” among social movement adherents, mainly through participation in movement organizations. This was accomplished though the existence of the formal SWAT organization, though differently for the leadership than for the ordinary SWAT member, because the organization provided different ways of participating. Cognitive and affective elements of collective identity (Melucci’s other two elements) were also different between the leadership and the rank-and file, though, as I will, show, differences also existed from site to site among the rank-and-file.

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The Identity of the SWAT Leader

The SWAT Board of Directors is an annually elected body comprised of one representative from each of Florida’s 67 county SWAT teams. The group meets quarterly and is the nominal decision making body for SWAT. To date, given the brief history of SWAT, there have only been six BODs. Turnover within the BOD from year to year is fairly high, but not complete. BOD representatives may serve more than one year but not after their senior year of high school. A typical BOD representative might have been elected first as a junior and serve two terms, although this pattern was not universal. A few younger youth have also been elected to the BOD over the years. In the previous chapter I described the SWAT program as a State-sponsored social movement organization. One of the more striking things about these SWAT leaders on the 2000-2001 BOD is their sense of themselves as movement activists, as opposed to, for example, participants in a health education program, or health educators. Everybody thinks SWAT is the don't smoke.... don't smoke....don't smoke, group and it took us a long time to get to the adults and say, SWAT is not telling you, ‘Don't smoke’ SWAT's telling you how the tobacco industries are trying to manipulate youths with their ads and we are a generation united, saying, ‘We're not stupid, we're not going to fall for your tricks any more’, we're not saying, ‘Don't smoke’ (White girl, age 16, BOD). The distinction between the health message, shorthand for anti-tobacco health education, and the manipulation message, meaning Truth and SWAT-style anti-tobacco industry public information campaigns was a key difference used by SWAT members to identify themselves and their organization. These SWAT members saw the “health message,” with its focus on individual health behavior, as a threat to the integrity of the group. As two other participants expressed it: “We strive to make our own identity, not to become just some other health club, you know, that we are actually against the industry, instead of smokers” (White girl, age 18, BOD). “It's not a no-smoking group. That really irritates me that people don't know the difference” (White girl, age 17, BOD). These and similar comments indicate the way these SWAT members felt about their organization’s identity, and also (“…people don't know the difference”) hinted at the possibility that the organization’s identity was somewhat contested.

105 In addition to their identifications of themselves as anti-tobacco activists, we were struck by the interviewees’ sense of the fundamental worthwhile-ness of SWAT, as both a socially responsible activity and a meaningful and enriching experience. More cause than club, perhaps. Some contrasted SWAT to other youth groups: “in student council, you're with your friends in your little school and that's it. You plan rallies; you hold rallies and stuff like that. But with SWAT you're doing something that's actually worthwhile” (White girl, age 15, BOD). Others talked about the “adult” roles they assumed in their communities through SWAT work: “We all do these things in our community and you go around, you talk to all the different people... I’ve found that I'm not considered as a kid anymore, when I go around to a lot of the organizations they don't see me as a youth” (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). Another remarked: “We do things that the majority of the kids don't get to do. So, I guess that puts us in an adult kind of situation” (White girl, age 18, BOD). Expressions of commitment toward SWAT, and toward the broader “cause” of tobacco control, speak to an emotional investment among many of the youth. Several said they felt they were “making a difference”: “…it just feels like you're doing what you're doing because you want to do it, and because you believe in the message, but then you're also doing it because, you feel that your impact could make a big difference for the future” (Asian American girl, age 18, BOD). For these SWAT faithful, the organization represented an avenue for their desire to “change the world,” as one put it. Several mentioned the death of family members from tobacco related disease as their motivation for getting involved. The perceived injustice of tobacco industry practices was made personal in these cases, and fueled commitment to the organization. Others just joined because they thought the group was “cool” or were attracted to the dynamic, youth- empowerment youth-led aspects of the organization. When we asked the participants directly “what is SWAT and what does it do” they were unanimous in their response. They are “a generation united against tobacco” – the SWAT semi-official motto. When we asked how this was done one participant said: “We create activities and advocacy events that will let Philip Morris know that we're out here and we're not gonna take their lies anymore, and other tobacco companies, you know, not just them” (White girl, age 18, BOD). This is a view of SWAT as oriented

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toward anti-tobacco-industry public information campaigns, a purpose identical to the concurrent but no longer congruent Truth advertising campaign. In addition to public information campaigns, three participants described their work on local policy issues, primarily advocating for the passage of tobacco product placement ordinances in counties and municipalities. Two talked about efforts to elicit voluntary tobacco policies, including smoke-free restaurants. This was a mission for SWAT consistent with the NCI ASSIST model of community-based interventions, though policy involvement did not appear to be a universal component of local SWAT activity, as only five of the fifteen participants mentioned policy work of any kind. When we probed on the issue of activities these participants were involved with, back home in their counties, only two described locally-generated manipulation themed activities. One was a “jazz funeral” featuring “Philip Morris' tombstone,” the other a critical deconstruction of a tobacco company advertisement. In contrast to these examples of locally generated activity, a dozen mentions of anti-industry activities were made in reference to coordinated statewide activities, of which “SWAT Without Borders,” a campaign to draw attention to the industry’s techniques of market expansion overseas, was the most recent. Other than some local policy work, the bulk of SWAT’s social action agenda, 2001, appeared from the BOD member’s accounts to be statewide in scope, coordinated through Tallahassee. Several interviewees described activities outside the “manipulation message,” in contrast to their avowed SWAT identity. During these two BOD interviews, participants mentioned SWAT activities 37 times (see table 6.3). Fourteen of these mentions had something to do with an anti-industry public information activity or tobacco policy involvement—both of which constitute a social action agenda for SWAT. Twenty-four times, the activity mentioned was something else, including health education directed at younger children. Several comments centered around this theme: “We go around and we do puppet shows for the elementary students” (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD) and “The most important thing I've done is to be a peer teacher” (White girl, age 17, BOD) and “…we go in schools and we do stuff for them” (African American boy, age 18, BOD) and “…we go to the younger generation and let them know, ‘Hey....don't start smoking, tobacco is not good for you’” (African American girl, age 18, BOD). In all, health

107 education activities were mentioned by ten of the fifteen participants during these two BOD interviews, suggesting these types of activities were prevalent and widespread across the state. None of the focus group participants challenged the legitimacy of these SWAT activities. They were accepted as normal, despite the apparent contrast these activities represent versus the organizational rhetoric. This apparent contradiction between SWAT’s identity as a social movement organization with an activist agenda and the reality of SWAT activities, especially as practiced at the local level, may have evolved over time, emerging as part of the fallout of the previous-year’s reorganization. Or it may reflect a difference between local and statewide organizational practices that always existed in the program. BOD focus group members were of the third BOD since SWAT’s founding in 1998, the first to emerge after the 1999 reorganization. The second BOD returned a lot of members from the first, but because almost all were juniors and seniors in 1998, by 2000, they had graduated high school and moved on. Several members of this third (2000- 2001) BOD had been present at the first Teen Summit and would have been among the younger participants at that event. Now, three years after the first teen summit, some of these younger first-summit goers returned as BOD Representatives to find an organization which on the surface appeared closely akin to the original formulation but which had experienced structural changes in terms of its authority as a decision-making body, its decision making process, its action agenda. Their struggles to make sense of their roles in it are apparent in the interviews. Many compared themselves unfavorably to their predecessors. The first SWAT cohort of SWAT leaders had attained a near-mythological status among these interviewees. Throughout the interviews, participants referred favorably to the first BOD in contrast to themselves: I kind of feel pressured to live up to [the first BOD’s] expectations (White girl, age 16, BOD). I'm following in very big shoes.... I’m coming after [a member of the first BOD], and that is a big shadow to try to get out of… I don't know what I'm going to do, it's very hard to step into this position (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD).

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I know a lot of people feel that way about [a member of the first BOD] when he left. A lot of people are gonna feel that way about [another first BOD member], a lot of people remember [a third member of the first BOD],: they were an inspiration (White girl, age 16, BOD). I was the quiet person, the sit-back-and-just-relax person....so, it was harder for me to step up to be a county rep (African American boy, age 17, BOD). I'm trying to replace [a member of the first BOD], and he was sort of an inspiration to me (African American boy, age 18, BOD). I'm trying to take over [a member of the first BOD]’s place and that's really hard (African American girl, age 16, BOD). These comments point to the high degree of responsibility these BOD members seemed to feel toward SWAT coupled with feelings of insecurity. They believed they were responsible for the organization’s fortunes, and they blamed themselves for the problems it was experiencing, especially regarding the relative dimming of public attention to tobacco over the previous two years, and the difficulty in motivating the rank-and-file SWAT members. Said one: “I'm disappointed that we want to come together, and be so professional, we want to be a rebellious group, we want to get our message across, but we don't do it… ...it really upsets me that we haven't done our jobs” (White girl, age 16, BOD). Another said: “No one has motivation, everyone's lazy. They won’t come to meetings. They say, ‘Oh, there's SWAT, I want to be in SWAT,’ but then they'll come to one meeting, they never show up again” (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). And another “I think as far as disappointments go, it's not necessarily anything that SWAT has done, or hasn't done, it's just the energy around you” (Asian American girl, age 18, BOD). And: “it's like we're losing the momentum we had going” (White girl, age 16, BOD). Complaints regarding a lack of passion among SWAT members, and regarding a loss of edge, of the public-attention-getting sort, from BOD interviewees, were frequently heard. But there was little indication they saw SWAT’s problems as caused by anything beyond their own shortcomings. Other than the funding cuts, no one mentioned the structural or organizational changes to SWAT of the previous year. Its possible they were not fully aware of them. In some respects, the SWAT BOD was near the bottom of the information chain within

109 the Tobacco Program. Apart from the weekend long statewide meetings, these youth had little opportunity for communication with each other or with headquarters staff. They probably relied on adult staff in the counties to learn about the program changes of the past two years. Those staff may have been out of the loop themselves. Regardless, no one indicated awareness that SWAT had lost authority within the program or that a major purge of youth staff had occurred some 18 months prior. Certainly, the surviving staff within the tobacco program would have little incentive to make these things clear, as they would have had reason to fear a repeat of the youth protests that triggered the purges in the first place. While the youth on the BOD may have been unaware of their downgraded status within the tobacco program, they were aware that things were not as they should be. Several complained about the latest round of Truth ads as an indication SWAT had “lost its edge,” but seemed to assume someone in SWAT, maybe their predecessors, must have approved them. None of the youth appeared to understand how the approval process for Truth ads worked, but they were sure they had this authority. They expressed this belief in terms of a sense of ownership over the Truth campaign, created by youth and firmly youth-led; an attitude toward the ads that would find echoes in the counties. The Truth ads themselves (at least up to the current wave) had done much to reinforce this idea, by featuring actual SWAT youth in several ads, and youthful actors in several others. Each of the youth in the BOD believed that the creation of these ads was their collective responsibility, but no BOD member took specific responsibility for the ads. That decisions continued to be made might have led them to wonder whom, exactly, was making them. But the BOD interviewees appeared largely unconcerned on this point. One BOD member did voice complaints, however, about the process of developing statewide SWAT projects. After 1998’s heralded “Truth Train” the strategy of coordinated statewide public events became standard for SWAT, but one of the interviewees questioned the process of developing and executing these ideas that had evolved: It's just that when we do initiatives or we go to do things, one of the things that I've noticed is that, anymore, it's not necessarily the youth coming up with the ideas, they're brought to us and told, ‘This is your choice, you have no choice but

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to choose one of these’ and then we're kind of pressured into things. Like, if we go through with this or that idea and the legislators get mad about it, we could have all our funding taken away…. And, it's just that....I'm disappointed because it's supposed to be youth led and youth run and we're supposed to come up with the initiatives and the ideas, but yet we're told ‘Okay, you have this, this or this. We're not recommending anything, but let us tell you all the great advantages of this one…’ (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD) Later in the interview this participant reiterated his frustration with the process: It's the adults in the office, it's the people in the Tallahassee office that come up with them and like Porter-Novelli, and CP&B they come up with the plan and they tell us. It's not youth coming up, it's these advertising firms or the adults in the office that come up there and tell us ‘These are your choices.’ Like in our region meeting, last time we had a region meeting, when we would talk about SWAT Without Borders [the most recent statewide SWAT event] they would defend every question we asked about it, they would defend it to make it look good (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). Notably this BOD interviewee was one of the handful on the 2001-02 Board we talked to who had first-hand experience on the BOD dating back to the program’s inception. These comments indicate an awareness of SWAT’s compromised status within the tobacco program, and speak to the difficulty these BOD members felt in exercising authority within the program, given their dependence on adult staff. However the fourteen other participants, who were often quick to praise the program’s adult staffers for their “hard work” and “dedication,” did not echo them. Most saw the adults within the program, especially those adults responsible for managing SWAT, as their allies and liaisons to adult decision makers outside the program. A perpetual climate of threats to the program’s existence reinforced this perception on the part of BOD members. It is not hard to imagine the 2000-2001 SWAT BOD as an ineffectual decision making body under these conditions. Perhaps it is understandable that its loss of decision-making power went largely unchallenged. The protestors from two years earlier simply were not around anymore to serve as reminders of how things could be otherwise. Their replacements were operating in a climate of fear (reinforced by their most trusted adult

111 advisors) of additional political reprisals against actions deemed too radical or too disruptive. Staffers who survived the purges probably saw the purge as an object lesson in not over-empowering their youth tobacco control advocates.

Collective Identity Among the Rank-and-file

As a statewide organization with local county chapters and multiple, usually school-based, teams in each county, SWAT is faced with problems common to multi- level hierarchical organizations, among them, how to maintain continuity of purpose between decision makers at the top and participants in the field. One solution involved the development and dissemination of information from headquarters offices to SWAT members in the field that effectively orientated them toward a common purpose and facilitated a shared understanding of the organization’s identity. Alternatively, information could be broadcast publicly and achieve the same purpose. Both public statements/actions and orientation materials give the membership reference points to individually and collectively accept, reject, and negotiate the organizations identity. Channels of communicating organizational identity changed over the life of the program. The membership, beyond the 67 Board of Directors members and the 600 or so attendees at the annual summits, were limited in the communication received directly from program planners. Most of the membership would never attend a statewide meeting. Their connection to the program office would have to come through local participation in statewide campaigns or through materials developed for the purpose of providing orientation or technical assistance to the membership. Early in 1999, the program distributed a trio of SWAT guidebooks called Build it! Change it! and Hype it! that dealt with, respectively, organizational aspects, advocacy activities, and media relations at the local level. Change it! contained seventeen ideas for local campaigns, and detailed guidance for each, specifying target audiences, estimated costs, and containing week-by-week planners. Examples of suggested activities in Change it! included sting operations on retailers to check compliance with youth sales restrictions, public burnings of tobacco merchandise, and a boycott of tobacco company products. Hype it! guided SWAT members trying to publicize events and actions, and taught the basics of media relations. Build it! offered advice on recruiting and on the

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formal organization of local teams. Together they offer a detailed orientation to social activism on tobacco issues for SWAT members. The three guides were widely distributed in 1999, but never updated or replaced. By 2001, they were considered obsolete by staffers and were largely unknown among the membership—at least as indicated within the focus group discussions. The only other principle guidance for social advocacy from the statewide office came in the form of coordinated statewide advocacy campaigns. One month before the March 2001 group interviews took place, SWAT completed its third major statewide advocacy campaign. Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is was designed to focus public attention on the public relations aspects of tobacco industry charitable contributions, and especially Philip Morris. According to the ten-page handbook distributed to SWAT members statewide, the action: • Exposes Philip Morris’s hypocrisy in spending millions to build up its “corporate image” by touting charitable contributions in an expensive advertising campaign. • Rejects Big Tobacco’s help when it comes to infiltrating schools with freebees, such as book covers and tray liners that promote Philip Morris as a brand. • Confronts tobacco executives with the fact that charity funds are from profits on a product that kills people. • Warns the public and officials not to be taken in or silenced by Big Tobacco’s public image campaign (Doc. 4:3, emphasis in original). The actual work of the action involved a pledge to boycott Philip Morris products and a petition drive to gather signatures demanding that Philip Morris stop publicizing its charitable campaign. The pledge and the petition drives were to be carried out by SWAT members in each county. The handbook contained guidance on convening a press conference to publicize the results, and a list of Philip Morris products to be boycotted. The event culminated with a press conference in Tallahassee summarizing the results statewide. As only the third major advocacy effort statewide in as many years, Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is represented a significant investment of effort on the part of state planners and the SWAT leadership. The statewide campaigns represented the identity of the organization to the public, and were therefore designed to generate earned

113 media (news coverage). Like other statewide campaigns and the Truth ads, this one was also purposefully aggressive and oppositional in tone, reflecting an image of a youthful, rebellious constituency. The statewide advocacy campaigns were also important because they represented the only direct communication of organizational identity (with the possible exception of Truth ads) between the program planners and the general membership. The campaigns were the organization’s only means of collective action and constituted a potentially powerful means of establishing and reinforcing collective identity beyond the relatively small group of annual summit attendees and BOD members. Surprising, then, that only a month after completion of Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is, the campaign was nearly absent from the group discussions. During the interviews, we asked members of each group to describe what SWAT did and/or what they did in SWAT. The campaign was mentioned by only nine of the 96 participants, and six of the nine were in the two BOD groups. In two counties, the campaign was not mentioned at all. What was said about Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is is illuminating. There was some talk in the BOD groups of how the media aspects of the campaign functioned to inspire them: “It was just amazing to me how, you know… we have so much power and everything… It's a good cause, I mean, everybody's noticing what we’re doing, you know” (African American girl, age 17, BOD). “I was like....‘Oh, my goodness....you know, this is gonna be on the news,’ they were taking pictures and stuff like that. I was like ‘This is great, this is good.’” (African American girl, age 18, BOD) On balance, though, participants in the BOD groups referred to the campaign in terms of the difficulty of mobilizing SWAT members in their home counties for it. Summarizing the group’s sentiment, one said: Nobody knows what you're doing. When I go back to my county with these advocacy ideas, and they're like.....‘Okay’. You know, they just....they don't get it, and they don't understand what it is I'm trying to do. I say, ‘Okay....here's what we're doing, sign these petitions here and we're send them off to, you know, Philip Morris, whoever’ and they're like....‘Okay’....you know, and I don't know how else to explain it to them, you know, I don't....I guess I'm not an effective speaker

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when it comes to getting the point across, you know, cause they're just like, ‘Okay....we'll get some signatures’, but they don't. I mean, they don't feel the initiative to go out and get those signatures, cause it's, you know, it's for the advocacy thing, and you know we're gonna have a big presentation and you know, they just... [the SWAT member trailed off at this point, and shrugged her shoulders] (White girl, age 15, BOD) The difficulty in motivating the rank and file to participate in the event was picked up later in the discussion by another participant: I passed out the petitions and they're just like, ‘What is this for?’ You know, and I'm like trying to explain, I'm like, ‘Well we have, you know, things that we do each quarter,’ and they're like, ‘What's a quarter?’ Completely, utterly confused. And you know, there are some [SWAT members] that must live in caves in my county, cause they have no idea what SWAT was, and I mean, and like, it's just-- people, people don't know and people can't get energized (White girl, age 18, BOD). Out in the field, the few references to Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is echoed the difficulties expressed by the BOD participants engaging the rank-and-file to actively participate in statewide SWAT activities. One group (Roma 1) referred to Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is as if it were a “BOD project”, rather than an activity for the membership as a whole. Another group (Panhandle 2), which included the county’s BOD representative, was reluctant to discuss the project, and tried to defer to the BOD representative when we probed. Asked directly about how he was involved, one member, looking at the BOD representative for approval, said: “She had a, well, they had a petition for people to sign to tell Philip Morris to stop doing that and put his money where his mouth is. And put more money into the charities not just the advertisements and stuff like that. That's when I first heard about it when she had that petition” (White boy, age 14, Panhandle 2). Only one other interviewee at this site expressed awareness of the campaign. When we asked the others specifically about the campaign, one, probably thinking we were discussing a Truth commercial, looked at the floor and said (to the obvious embarrassment of his BOD representative): “I don’t watch much TV” (White boy, age 13, Panhandle 2). In another county, one participant spoke of an abortive

115 attempt to participate in the campaign: “Our chapter was going to set a stand outside of Walmart and we were going to have people sign a petition against tobacco then we’re sending them to big tobacco or whatever and we went to Walmart and we talked to the manager and stuff and they wouldn't let us” (White boy, age 14, Seashore). Only one of the five counties, ‘Urbana’ County, made mention of the campaign in a way that indicated significant participation, or indicated an impact on the SWAT member’s consciousness: [first participant]…and we also did the signatures for the petitions against Phillip Morris, it was Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is. They were saying that they give money to all these charities and all these good functions when they really weren't. So, we got a bunch of people to sign the petition to... [second participant] …that they were giving more money to it but they were spending a lot more money advertising what they were doing and not that much money in the actual thing that they're supposed to. And that's all that was—just to stop advertising it and actually give the money to the organization and to help what they were going to do (White girl, age 18, Urbana; White girl, age 14, Urbana). The clarity and focus expressed by this group were markedly different from other groups. The above responses by indicate an internalization of the campaign themes by the local membership. Beyond that, members of this Urbana County group had an enthusiasm for the campaign, and its mission, that was lacking in other counties. However, the fact that this was evident in only one of five study counties (and only one of two groups in Urbana County) is not encouraging for the notion that SWAT acted as a cohesive statewide organization. By 2001, large-scale SWAT activities were considerably lower profile than they had been in 1998 and 1999. The “truth train” of 1998 generated a flood of news coverage (over fifteen articles in major papers were devoted to the truth train between June 30 and August 30 1998). The strong public interest had a corresponding impact on the consciousness of SWAT members and the public as to the identity of the organization. Several focus group participants, especially those in the two BOD groups, mentioned the Truth Train as a defining event in their decision to participate in SWAT, some three years

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after the event. For these participants, the Truth Train seemed to establish the idea of SWAT, the organization, and its mission: “When I first joined, I rode the truth train in ‘98 and we came together as a group and it was clear to us we were a group, we were united, we were a generation united” (White girl, age 16, BOD) “So, I just went from there....got on the truth train and been like that ever since” (White girl, age 18, BOD). “The truth train was big....big.....that was big” (White girl, age 18, BOD). In contrast, the major campaign of 2000, Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is was barely mentioned in the news, and correspondingly, did not appear in the accounts of BOD members or with the exception of Urbana County, in the local groups, even though the campaign had ended only one month before the interviews were held. The principal SWAT orientation guides titled, Build it! (Doc. 2), Change it! (Doc. 3), and Hype it! (Doc. 1), were developed and distributed in 1999, and never updated or supplemented with comparable materials. No participants in any focus group mentioned the guides or referred to activities within them during the interviews, although at least two of the activities in the Change it! guide, “Back At Ya” and “Sting Operation”, had generated media coverage in major state newspapers in 1999 and 2000.

Slogans

Although the statewide campaigns and the orientation guides did not seem to resonate, the program did communicate its identity to its membership in 2001, primarily through the use of slogans recycled from the materials and campaigns of earlier years. Slogans abounded within the SWAT program in 2001. Most had been developed as catchphrases in early Truth advertisements or adopted as mottos for SWAT near the time of origin. Examples include the official SWAT motto;“SWAT-- a generation united against tobacco”, and an unofficial but widely repeated purpose of the Truth campaign, “…to expose the manipulative tactics of the tobacco industry.” Sometimes the more pejorative term “Big Tobacco,” coined by Governor Chiles, was used in place of “Tobacco Industry.” Slogans were also incorporated into the official SWAT mission statement: The mission of SWAT is to educate, unite, and empower the diverse segments of youth in Florida to revolt against the manipulation and targeting by Big Tobacco

117 specifically of youth, through the use of the ‘truth’ message (SWAT Board of Director’s Orientation Guide 2001-2002). The words “rebel” “targeting” and “manipulation” are conspicuous in the mission statement for their activist and oppositional tone. By 2001, slogans based on these and related terms constituted a sort of verbal shorthand among SWAT insiders. Program insiders, including SWAT members (and our focus group participants) often used program slogans and variations of slogans to communicate the organization’s identity. Probably the most often repeated slogan involved the word “manipulation” and was used in answer to the questions about the purpose of SWAT, as in: “we (SWAT members) expose the manipulations of the tobacco industry.” Variants included: “tobacco companies manipulate the truth,” “[We carry the message] that the tobacco companies are trying to manipulate us,” and “our main focus [is] the youth, our generation, we're trying to keep them from big tobacco's manipulation.” Each preceding quote is from focus group members. This slogan and its variants communicate the idea that SWAT has an anti-industry focus. Within SWAT and the FTPP, it was referred to in shorthand as the “manipulation message” and contrasted to the “health message.” All the groups used slogans to some degree but with important differences. As might be expected, significant differences existed between the (two) leadership groups, conducted at a Board of Directors meeting and comprised of youth leaders from a sample of counties, and the other ten groups, conducted in five counties and comprised of the general membership. In the two BOD groups, participants tended to extend program slogans, by this I mean the incorporation of program slogans into arguments that went beyond or appropriated the original meaning of the slogan. For example, when asked why he joined SWAT, one said “So teens could get the message that the tobacco companies are trying to manipulate us to get us to start smoking...” (White girl, age 15, BOD). Another answered the question by describing her grandfather’s death by lung cancer, concluding: “…this is my way to show them that I would not stand idly by and be stepped on by the tobacco companies, because I can see how things can change. And this is the way that my voice is heard and that my grandfather…his death won't be in vain and that my voice will be his voice” (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). When asked about SWAT activities, one said: “We create activities and advocacy events that will let Philip Morris

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know that we're out here and we're not gonna take their lies anymore, and other tobacco companies, you know, not just them” (White girl, age 18, BOD). These statements are representative of the BOD member’s use of slogans during the interviews. By varying and extending the stock phrases to use in describing their own experiences and opinions, the BOD members make them their own even as they conform to the original slogan’s meaning. They arguably reflect an internalization of program slogans and an incorporation of the organization’s frame into their sense of self as activists. Out in the counties, the use of slogans, while still prevalent, was fragmented. Unlike the BOD members, who used slogans to reinforce or ground statements in ways that remained consistent within the frame, members of the county groups used slogans or fragments of slogans with little apparent understanding of the underlying collective action frame. Examples centered on the juxtaposition of the public oriented, political stance of the “manipulation message” to the individual oriented prevention approach of the “health message”— the former as rhetoric, the latter as practice. When asked to explain the functions of SWAT, one local member tried to rationalize the apparent disconnect between social action rhetoric and health education practice: “I don't think that we're technically anti-smoking, I think we're anti-tobacco-industry and the manipulation on our kids. So, I think that we should be talking to the younger kids that are impressionable and we should let them know, you know, ‘you don't have to smoke, you don't have to chew, you don't have to use smokeless tobacco’” (White boy, age 16, Gator). In each of the five counties visited, something similar was expressed—the notion that appropriate SWAT tasks were educating elementary school-age children on the health risks of tobacco use, rather than mobilizing their communities in a campaign against the tobacco industry. In Urbana and Seashore this attempt to develop a theoretical rational for health education through the use of social action rhetoric was disputed by other members of the group as contrary to SWAT’s mission, but in other sites this was accepted at face value. In sum, constructions of collective identity among SWAT youth were present if somewhat contested. At a basic level, a SWAT youth who describes herself as a member of a “generation united against tobacco” is expressing collective identity, but beyond that, there were complicating factors. SWAT identity differed from the BOD to the rank-and-

119 file in ways consistent with the differing responsibilities within the organization. The SWAT BOD saw themselves as preservationists of the legacy of earlier SWAT youth. The ordinary membership did not. One source of conflict within the youths’ collective identity was the tension between health education and social action “messages” within the organization. For some, this conflict was between rhetoric and practice. SWAT maintained an official rhetoric of social action but was increasingly engaged in the practice of health education. Youth who were “hooked” by the rhetoric, as many were, struggled to reconcile the disconnect between theory and practice within the organization, and to make sense of their continued cognitive and emotional investments in SWAT (I discuss these in more detail later in this chapter). Some, especially among the rank-and-file, withdrew those investments: this is evidenced by motivation problems found in several sites and the general lack of enthusiasm for projects organized at the statewide level. If youth were unsatisfied with “their” SWAT organization, why not change it, rather than passively withdraw? The section below explores a possible answer to this question.

Empowerment and Youth Power in SWAT

As might be expected given the origin and history of the program, issues of youth empowerment and youth control are central within SWAT. This is not to say that these terms had clear and common understandings within the Tobacco Program or within SWAT, only that they were issues. Indeed, the nebulous concept of empowerment was an issue within the program for much of the time I was there, considered to be enough of a problem that, for example, in December 2000 the Tobacco Program held a workshop on the topic attended by empowerment experts (primarily drawn from the field of community psychology) for the purpose of establishing a better understanding of it. The workshop, which I attended, failed to produce a definitive statement on empowerment and rather reinforced its fundamental ambiguous meanings. Rather than try to answer the question of whether SWAT youth were empowered directly, I choose instead to examine some issues that emerged from the focus groups that bear on this assessment and are particular to the SWAT context. They are: self-direction

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or self-governance free from adult interference; money or the ability to utilize available resources; knowledge including contextual knowledge of the SWAT organization and technical knowledge of tobacco control; and sphere of influence, a global indicator of the extent of SWAT’s power within the tobacco program.

Self-Direction

SWAT members often pointed out that SWAT was different from other youth organizations in that it was youth-led. By this they usually meant the decision-making that they saw was self-directed: “[In] student council, I mean, it's just boring. You go to a meeting, you sit there and they have boring speakers. But in SWAT we choose what we want, we organize everything that we want and then we have fun doing whatever we do” (African American girl, age 17, BOD). “Unlike most organizations where it's an adult directing you and kind of telling you what to do, with SWAT everything is decided by youth....[we] have the ability to take more of a leadership role as opposed to other organizations” (White boy, age 16, Gator). The idea that formal decision making, especially in meetings, was an important indicator of youth empowerment was common to most of the sites, though not universal. The Roma 2 youth (the juvenile detention center) did not discuss adult advisors or their roles, and at one other site, Seashore, youth made comments that suggested more adult control. One youth referred to “our advisor person who runs the SWAT meetings” (White girl, age 13, Seashore), and another mentioned, “The advisors tell their SWAT teams what they're doing” (African American boy, age 12, Seashore). It is notable that both these comments came from middle-school aged youth, suggesting the possibility that adult control is more pronounced there than among the high school groups. Yet other SWAT youth who addressed the topic generally maintained that youth did control decision-making, irrespective of their age. At local and statewide levels of organization, SWAT youth were often encouraged to make decisions with a minimum of adult involvement. One typical description of the decision making process came from a BOD member: “[The county’s Tobacco Program Coordinator] really does leave everything up to the youth and she says, ‘You don't have to do this on your own, you can get committees, but it's up to you to get the committees’. She'll help me with whatever I need and she's a great coordinator, and

121 my SWAT coordinator is really, really great too, but he's a kid himself. So, they just help me out and whatever decisions have to be made, they ask me. I make all the decisions in my county” (White girl, age 18, BOD). The flip side of self-direction for some SWAT youth is a lack of guidance and support. SWAT youth’s complaints of a lack of guidance were mostly at the statewide level: “I understand that it's suppose [sic] to be youth led, and I think that's part of the reason that they don't give you direction because they want some of your own pure thoughts. But then again, you know, you’ve got to have some kind of direction to go in, you know, we can still be creative and know what we're suppose to do” (White girl, age 15, BOD). “We have to make these decisions and we don't know what path we're taking, what was taken before, what was successful and it's kind of hard” (White girl, age 17, BOD member, Seashore). At least one county’s SWAT team leveraged their control over decision making within the organization to focus on issues other than tobacco control. Gator County SWAT’s pride and joy was the development of a community “Teen Center” in the county seat. The rural county SWAT team invested over a years worth of effort, and an unknown amount of tobacco program funds, in renting, renovating, an maintaining the facility, which, while earning the team kudos from local community leaders, served no apparent tobacco control function. The relative absence of “lack of guidance” complaints at the county level was consistent with the rank and file members’ lower levels of responsibility within the organization. BOD representatives carried the responsibility of communicating statewide issues back to the counties, and felt the additional responsibility of motivating SWAT members back home to participate: “I wish like everyone could go to the board meeting and to the Summit, cause then maybe they can understand the whole thing. It's hard. My TPC tells me ‘When you go back, you have to give a report’, right? And when I do, they don't get excited like I was.”(African American girl, age 17, BOD) Another said: “Nobody knows what you're doing. When I go back to my county with these advocacy ideas, and they're like ‘Okay.’ You know? They just don't get it. They don't understand what I'm trying to do” (White girl, age 15, BOD). With their greater involvement (and feelings of responsibility toward the organization, discussed earlier), it is understandable

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that BOD members would focus more on issues of guidance and direction issues than the rank-and-file.

Money

Unlike other components of the Tobacco Program, SWAT had no separate budget under its control. Funds used for SWAT activities were allocated to county tobacco partnerships based on a formula and subject to approval of purchase requisitions submitted by county staff.22 SWAT activity funding requests were made either by the paid staff or by the county anti-tobacco partnership, and submitted by the staffer to the state office for approval on a case-by-case basis. This arrangement meant SWAT youth, regardless of internal organizational sufficiency, depended on the approval of adult advisors, both locally and at the state office, for activities that required monetary resources. In some counties, this dependency did not appear to be problematic. In Urbana County, for example, SWAT members described their partnership in glowing terms: It's not like SWAT is the youth component and the partnership is the adult component, because that's not how it is. I mean the partnership is predominantly adults because like three-fourths of it is adults, but one fourth of it is youth. The youth involvement aspect of the partnership is very important, especially when you're talking about dealing with where the funds go, or what the goals are going to be. And I mean, technically, SWAT has more influence over the partnership than the adults do, because every single SWAT member gets a vote on the partnership, whereas each community organization only gets one vote… The adults on the countywide level, they absolutely get it. And I mean, that's why this program's working because they empower us so well, especially in the partnership. Our partnership's been, you know, excellent” (White boy, age 15, Urbana). The rule about 25% youth membership on county partnerships, mentioned in the above quote, was established early on by the tobacco program office in Tallahassee, and often

22 The partnership-funds formula factored in the base population of school-age youth in the county, along with other factors. Annual disbursements, split among the 67 counties, could be substantial. In some years the total amount neared ten million dollars.

123 used as evidence of meaningful youth input into the program. However, in practice, no monitoring system enforced this rule, and voting rules were up to individual counties. The descriptions of other sites’ partnerships contrasted sharply with Urbana’s. The typical relationship between a county SWAT and its partnership was expressed at the Gator site: “Basically, we come up with ideas and if we need funding, we present it to them” (African American girl, age 16, Gator). The partnership supplies resources and SWAT supplied ideas and labor. This is a view of the partnership as an outside organization completely separate from SWAT. This is also a view of the partnership as a support organization for SWAT, a view that was fairly common, both among SWAT members interviewed, and among program staff in Tallahassee. The support function of the partnership, while typically acknowledged, was not without conflict. Most interviewees who had attended partnership meetings described them as “boring” or “dull,” in contrast to SWAT meetings. Several noted a dismissive attitude of adult partnership members toward youth attendees: “The middle school and some high school kids, they go there and they're basically told, you know ‘Hey, be quiet’” (White boy, age 17, Gator) “… [T]hey're a bit condescending and that's not attractive at all. Nobody wants to be looked down on” (White boy, age 18, Gator). “Every partnership meeting I've been to we've discussed the budget. We just kind of sit and listen and like, if they ask us, you know, ‘What do you guys think about it?’ We can say what we think about it” (White girl age 14, Panhandle1). It’s unclear from the focus groups exactly what the youth “do” in partnership meetings beyond fulfill the 25 percent rule. In one site, Urbana, interviewees describe partnership meetings as strategy sessions with youth and adults contributing more or less equally, but based on evidence from other sites, Urbana youths’ relationship with their partnership appears to be atypical. Conflict over resources was more pronounced in Seashore County, where youth described the partnership as having a different agenda than SWAT: “..the partnership is [part of] the County Health Department and [SWAT] is the Florida Health Department and it's like a different level. [Seashore] County worries [about] keeping their county clean (African American boy, age 15, Seashore). “The partnership’s not working against Big Tobacco. They're trying to keep [the county] clean” (African American boy, age 14, Seashore). Youth in this county and at the Roma 1 site seemed unsure or unaware of the

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funding arrangement for SWAT. Several Roma 1 youth seemed to think the source of SWAT funds was “grants” arranged by the partnership rather than a disbursement of settlement dollars. The lack of direct control over money for SWAT, coupled with uncertainty over the source of and access to funds speaks to these youth’s lack of power in this key aspect of the organization. Some of the sharpest criticism of county anti-tobacco partnerships was expressed by members of the SWAT BOD who, being relatively well-informed about the intended function of partnerships as well as the source of and rules regarding the distribution of SWAT funds, were in a better position to offer a critique of their county partnerships. Several described county partnerships looking for a share of Florida’s massive tobacco settlement: “In our partnership, most of the people that come there are there because they want SWAT's money to help fund their own program” (White girl, age 15, BOD). “I think they are just there to be in the partnership. I don't think they feel the same passion. I don't know if it's because of the people we're choosing or if they're not understanding truly the whole organization itself. I think that they just think it's their business to be there” (African American girl, age 17, BOD). “[T]hey come in and they want money” (White girl , age 16, BOD) Not all the BOD members interviewed were as dismissive of their partnership, but among this relatively well informed group, the sentiment was prevalent, and it raises questions about the true function of the anti-tobacco partnerships, especially in the absence of a clearly articulated or coordinated statewide action agenda for the program.

Knowledge

I use the word knowledge (as an issue related to empowerment) deliberately, and distinguish it from mere information. By knowledge, I mean a contextually rooted understanding of the workings of SWAT, its history, function, and purpose. I also mean an orientation to tobacco control— technical knowledge germane to anti-tobacco activism. SWAT youth in the eight sites visited displayed a range of both types of knowledge basic to their function as SWAT advocates. (a) Knowledge of SWAT. Some of the interviewees had first-hand knowledge of SWAT’s history. A few, mostly members of the 2001 BOD, had attended the First

125 SWAT summit in 1998, or ridden the truth train of 1999, and presumably remained active in the intervening period. For these youth, those early experiences were often inspiring. Said one: When I first joined, I rode the truth train in ’98 and we came together as a group, and we were a group, we were united, we were a generation united (White girl, age 18, BOD). Another said: I was in eighth grade when I joined. I went to the summit and it was kind of cool cause I got to travel somewhere and there are like a lot of people there and most of them were older, so it kind of seemed like a nice thing to do they were all high school kids and I was only in the eighth grade and… it's kind of like a snowballing effect because there are a lot of opportunities cause I just like started to move up and run for this office or that, so, I just went with it” (White girl, age 17, BOD member, Seashore). Several of the “old timers” mentioned being inspired by Lawton Chiles himself, at one of his several appearances at SWAT program events in 1998. However even this first-hand experience was limited in important ways. By 2001, a few had a two- or three-year history as SWAT members but none remaining was then in positions of authority within SWAT; the early SWAT leaders had graduated out of the program. Their distance from the center of the action limited the experiences of those who remained. They, as well as the newcomers also relied on staff within the program, both at the home office and in the counties, for an orientation to SWAT. The program also began including a brief “History of SWAT” in BOD orientation materials after 2000, but this also avoided potentially controversial issues like protests and purges. The rank and file local SWAT members had even less access to SWAT’s history than the statewide leadership. This was evidenced in several sites by interviewees’ seemingly murky appreciation of basic aspects of the Tobacco Program and SWAT. The most extreme example of this was found in the Panhandle 2 site. At several points, we probed the interviewees to discuss why they participated in SWAT or what they thought its purpose was. The following exchanges highlight the low level of understanding among some SWAT members of their organization:

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[Interviewer: What do you think it's about?] Some things. To help teach people what the right stuff is. [I'm sorry?] I don't know, really. [I say ‘SWAT’, what’s that about?] It's about focusing on, um, it mainly focuses on the anti-tobacco message, like ‘don't smoke, don't chew.’ But it's got like side projects, too. Like whenever stuff comes up like the, whatever she was talking about, I forgot it. [And how does Truth fit into SWAT's purpose?] Well, like Truth is to help people, like isn't, isn't that like SWAT? SWAT is the message? Truth is the messenger? (White girl, age 14, Panhandle 2) Beyond the curious inversion of SWAT’s slogan (“Truth is the message, SWAT is the messenger”) the Panhandle 2 youth show in these answers little in the way of an orientation to their organization. At one point in the Panhandle 2 interview, a male interviewee, in SWAT over a year, admits he has “never heard” of the Truth ad campaign. Two other interviewees at the Panhandle 2 site, when prompted about the activities of the Philip Morris Corporation, refer to the tobacco company as “he.” This evidence of poorly equipped advocates raises the question of SWAT’s capability to function in the field in 2001 as an anti-tobacco advocacy organization. At the other end of the “SWAT Knowledge” range was Urbana County. The Urbana interviewees were the only ones other than BOD group to reference Governor Chiles in the course of the interview. It came as one youth explained the structure of the organization: We let youth make all of our decisions. The program's run by our statewide board of directors, which you know is made up of a representative from each county in the state. So, we basically have a representative, you know, board of directors that makes all the decisions. In the beginning of the program, Governor Chiles sat down with, you know, a board of youth and said, ‘Here's what we need to do. Here's the problem. What do you want to do about it?’ And that's where it all began and it's been like that ever since (White boy, age 15, Urbana). The tobacco knowledge related discussion among the Urbana youth was a general contrast to that of other sites, a difference explained perhaps by one member’s mention of an “orientation” provided by and to all SWAT members in the county once each year at a county “tobacco summit”—an activity not mentioned in any other site.

127 Perhaps the most telling omission was the complete absence of references to the 1999 SWAT-led protest (described in Chapter 5) that led to the youth’s loss of standing within the tobacco program. Over the course of twelve interviews in eight sites comprised of 86 respondents, including 18 of the 67 members of the Board of directors, and five of the 11 executive committee members, no mention was made of the specific events of the program’s recent history. In the program office (in my experience), the events of 1999 were well known, but rarely discussed. In two years following the focus group interviews (2001-2003), during which time I participated in the Florida Tobacco Program, I came to experience a tacit understanding among staff not to discuss this period of the program’s history. As discussed earlier, staff were fearful that the mere mention of the 1999 staff purge would bring another wave of retribution from the administration. Such a climate perhaps explains why adults did not report the program’s dark history during SWAT youth orientations. (b) Knowledge of tobacco control. Empowered tobacco control activists may be expected to hold substantial knowledge of tobacco control, including basic information about tobacco and tobacco use, but also knowledge that reflects a particular, actionable, orientation to the tobacco problem. By actionable I mean an approach that defines the problem in a way that implies a course of action. Social movements define problems in ways that imply the possibility of corrective social action (Snow et al., 1986). For example, seeing tobacco use as essentially a problem of moral defects within tobacco users implies a course of action quite different from an approach to the problem which focuses on deceptive marketing by tobacco manufacturers or lax regulation or political influence of the tobacco industry. Some approaches imply solutions that require social or political action and suggest social movement tactics to mobilize opposition to the tobacco industry or apply political pressure to government regulators. Other approaches imply solutions that require health education or “character education” for potential or current tobacco users, and largely ignore social political or economic dimensions of the problem. Though the focus group interviews were not constructed as formal examinations of interviewee’s tobacco control knowledge, they do reveal some of it, especially with respect to their construction of the nature of the problem more so than the extent of their

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knowledge. In the section above, I reported interviewees at one site who repeatedly referred to the Philip Morris tobacco company as “he.” While this is suggestive of a general lack of tobacco control knowledge, it is not conclusive. It might be that the interviewees knew other useful things about tobacco companies, just not that particular fact. Additional insight into SWAT members’ orientation to tobacco control is gained through interviewees’ use of “facts” that imply a particular construction or framing of the problem (Goffman 1974; Snow et al., 1986). Despite several interviewees’ pervasive use of SWAT slogans (e.g.: “A generation united against tobacco”, “…exposing Big Tobacco’s manipulations”, “targeting the targeters”) the most typical orientation to the problem among SWAT youth was at odds with the social action rhetoric of the original SWAT organization. I discuss this more fully in the section on “Framing the tobacco problem in SWAT” later in this chapter. As evidence of a non-social action agenda, interviewees at nearly every site described local activities aimed at pre-adolescent children and focus on providing information to them about the health effects of tobacco use23. Pre-adolescent health education was the most common activity mentioned by SWAT youth in all of the groups. A typical presentation to an elementary school class or assembly might use props such as the “jar of tar” to demonstrate the accumulation of tar in lungs due to smoking, or otherwise impress on 6-12 year olds the consequences of 30 years of smoking damage: “We were showing how if you were to breathe through the straw, and stuff like that. How if you were to breathe through the straw how it feels if you were a smoker and stuff like that” (White boy, age 13, Panhandle 2). Some interviewees saw the focus on health education as unproblematic. When asked what the purpose of SWAT was, they did not failed to use the social action rhetoric of the organization: I would say [SWAT’s job is] to inform people about the dangers of tobacco, so they know what could possibly happen to them. Prevention, also, that kind of goes along with awareness, like, for elementary school children…they need to know the information about the dangers about tobacco before they get into middle

23 The only exception was the Roma 2 site, whose members mentioned no activities.

129 school, so they'll have the mind set that smoking isn't cool and smoking is harmful. So, basically, education, prevention, I'd say” (White girl, age 16, Panhandle 1). Another said: I'm really into this, like ‘against tobacco’ thing and I was really, really proud to become vice president and rub it in my family's face because they all smoke. And I'm totally with trying to get like the younger generation not to smoke and show them that it is bad and that you can get diseases and you can die.” These accounts of the “purpose of SWAT” from the rank and file contrasted with those of BOD members, who were much more likely to reference macro or structural concerns, as well as use SWAT slogans: [W]hen the program first started, I mean, I knew it was against tobacco, and we strive to make our own identity, not to become just some other health club, you know, that we are actually against the industry, instead of smokers, and that we're just trying to get our message out and spread the truth, and that's what all of us are about” (White girl, age 18, BOD). This is my way to show them that I would not stand idly by and be stepped on by the tobacco companies, because I can see how things can change” (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). Such comments, typical of BOD members and those with a longer history of participation, suggest a “knowledge of tobacco control” that, rather than leading to health education, points toward collective action, social or political. The apparent disconnect between rhetoric and action, and between the leadership and the rank and file within SWAT on definitional issues was a point of discussion in Gator County, where several interviewees described their struggle to reconcile this problem. One SWAT student was against health education: Sometimes we kind of stray from the big tobacco advertising thing, sometime we kind of stray from that and we go more towards the health aspect, and that's not, that's more partnership and less SWAT but sometimes SWAT kind of goes across that line. And I don't really think that's what we're supposed to be doing” (African American girl, age 16, Gator).

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One was resigned to the changes he had observed in the program’s messages about smoking: We had a CD ROM program that was designed to show kids, young kids what cigarette smoke did to various parts of the body, it showed pictures of mouth cancer, it showed what happened to your lungs, your heart your liver different things like that and that's not SWAT's original message. SWAT or TRUTH either one, it's not the original message. It was originally against the advertising and so that's kind of straying from it, but at the same time, it's another branch of it. They're trying to incorporate more ideas into their original message, so I really don't think that it is going against the original intention. It's a living organization, so it's going to change” (White boy, age 18, Gator). A third Gator County SWAT youth was less sanguine about what he thought was an inevitable shift of the original program: I think we should stay with the older group, because they're old enough to understand, they can understand manipulation and that's what has worked, I just want to avoid ever becoming the club that goes to day cares every week. I think we all enjoy doing the puppet show, but if we do that every week.... I mean we'll be like, tired of it” White boy, age 17, BOD member, Gator). These remarks by “old timers” in the SWAT program illustrate frustrations felt by some SWAT members about a shift in the organization’s purpose from its original incarnation as a “youth movement” to some sort of community service club. These focus group data show that the kinds of tobacco control knowledge held by SWAT members in 2001 was mixed: a handful had first-hand experience, an additional few (Urbana County) received a degree of orientation to the program, but most were largely unaware of the organization’s specific history. Technical knowledge was a possible source of internal conflict for these youth: they had skills and experience in peer based health education, but their organization was putatively oriented toward social action. This led to frustration from some and attempts to rationalize the difference for others.

131 Sphere of Influence

To what extent and in what areas of the tobacco program were SWAT youth able to exercise power? Issues of self-direction, access to and control of funds, and actionable knowledge are important if probably insufficient to explain SWAT youths’ power to act as tobacco control advocates. Taken together, they call into question SWAT’s sphere of influence within the tobacco program. If SWAT meetings were run without adult influence, participants might have felt empowered or able to decide and act for themselves. But to do what? As described in Chapter 5, after 1999, the SWAT youth had lost effective control over the Truth advertising campaign. Although the focus group data show that many youth still thought of truth as “their” campaign, newer ads were less identifiable as the voice of a “youth movement,” as noted in Chapter 5, not a single Truth ad after 2000 featured actual SWAT youth. At the local level, the county anti-tobacco partnership’s control of funds was not a focus of much concern among the SWAT youth, although some partnership members’ persistent dismissal of the “youth perspective” was. Few SWAT members interviewed could point to specific projects that were blocked by the partnership. Possibly, adult control over SWAT activities operated at a less conspicuous level--at the level of identifying the range of options for students to take action upon. Several BOD interviewees mentioned how this “option restricting” process operated at the statewide level. One BOD member who remembered the first summit was remarkably direct in his criticism of adult interference into BOD decision-making: One of the things that I've notice is that, lately, it's not necessarily the youth coming up with the ideas, they're brought to us and told, ‘This is your choice, you have no choice but to choose one of these’ and then we're kind of pressured into things. Like SWAT Without Borders [the most recent SWAT statewide advocacy campaign], we weren't really given a fair description of it and we're not focusing on what our goal is for the youth. And, it's just that.... I’m disappointed because it's supposed to be youth led and youth run and we're supposed to come up with the initiatives and the ideas, but yet we're told “okay, you have this, this or this, we're not going to tell you, we're not recommending anything, but let us tell you all the great advantages of this one, oh, this one's okay because it does this, this

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one's okay, but this one's wonderful!” It's the adults in the office; it's the people in Tallahassee office that come up with [the activities]. And Porter Novelli, [a P.R. company] and CP&B [the ad agency managing the Truth campaign] they come up with the plan and they tell us. It's not youth, it's these advertising firms or the adults in the office, that come up there and tell us, “[T]hese are your choices.” Like in our regional24 meeting, last time we had a regional meeting, we had [a tobacco program administrator] sitting in when we would talk about SWAT Without Borders, [the administrator] would defend every question we asked about it; They would defend it to make it look good (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). While other BOD interviewees in the course of the focus group interviews did not express this same complaint, it was, in my experience with the program, a recurring criticism from within the BOD. I have no direct experience with the program prior to 2000, but from 2000-2003, the charge of “tobacco program manipulation” was voiced frequently by BOD members, especially in connection to the handling of the Truth campaign and the acceptable topics and strategies for statewide SWAT activities. In sum, evidence from the youth suggests that SWAT’s sphere of influence in the tobacco program was severely constrained by 2001, especially after they lost control of the ad campaign. SWAT members could run meetings, select (among adult-filtered) projects, and coordinate implementation but through a combination of lack of orientation to tobacco control, dependence on adult advisors for access to funds, and dominance by adults over SWAT decisions, the youths’ options were constrained. The organization had limited ability to act as a tobacco control movement organization. To become a full- fledged social movement organization, after the purge and subsequent shift in focus and direction after 2000, SWAT would have needed to completely break free of its institutional home within the Florida Department of Health.

24For bureaucratic reasons, the 67county SWAT and tobacco programs were grouped into five geographic “regions.” Some time was set aside at each statewide SWAT meeting for “regional breakout” meetings that often facilitated discussion of SWAT business through smaller group settings

133 Framing the Tobacco Problem in SWAT

Earlier in this chapter I reported and categorized the actual activities SWAT members mentioned in the course of the focus group interviews. These activities offer some insight into the nature of the organization SWAT had become in 2001. Another sort of insight is gained by analysis of how SWAT members approached the problem of tobacco and tobacco control, and, apart from what they actually did, what courses of action did they advocate? In this section I explore SWAT member’s talk about tobacco, their orientation to the problem of tobacco control, and their understanding of their roles as participants in the SWAT program. I use Snow et al.’s (1986) concept of three moments of a collective action frame: the diagnostic, prognostic, and motivational, (defined below) to explore three questions. Respectively they are: 1) how do SWAT member’s describe the nature of the problem (including the problem’s source or cause); 2) What courses of action do they advocate and/or have they engaged in to address the problem? And 3) what motivates them to be involved? A successful collective action frame accomplishes three related tasks. A diagnostic or statement of the nature of the problem including its root causes, focuses attention on a target that can be considered both a source of grievance and a thing to be changed. A prognostic or expressed course of action, will supply an action agenda for the movement that directs movement efforts toward the intended change. A motivational “call to action” inspires participants to act collectively (as opposed to collectively idling). Snow et al. (1986) emphasize the interrelatedness of these three aspects of a collective action frame. They argue that a prognostic which clearly defines the “target” for action—the perpetrator of the grievance—in a way that is amenable to collective action, will be more likely to successfully develop strategies for action that motivate participation. To put it simply, a lot depends on how a social problem is defined. Some definitions imply social action, some do not. Those movements that can make a compelling case to potential supporters that a real grievance exists, it affects the potential adherent, the perpetrator is known, and the solution obvious, have a better shot at mobilizing supporters. Under this logic the anti-tobacco movement should have more success in sparking collective action by defining severe and widespread health or

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addictive consequences of tobacco as a consequence of the bad behavior of a few giant tobacco companies (a clear target), rather than an accumulation of the moral or intellectual shortcomings of millions of adolescents, or of “society” at large.

Nature of the Problem

The first question—regarding the nature of the tobacco problem, can be broken into two parts. First, what is problematic about tobacco or tobacco use, and secondly why is tobacco use prevalent? In other words: what is the problem and its source? Regarding the first part, SWAT members in all sites were remarkably consistent—they said tobacco is a problem because it is an addictive substance that presents a serious health hazard, both for the user, and through secondhand smoke. This unanimity, which is not surprising, reflects a general consensus among the public as well regarding the deleterious effects of tobacco on health. Among interviewees, a common reason cited for joining SWAT was a response to seeing a family member suffer from a tobacco related disease. For some it was not limited to just one family member: I joined for very personal reasons, my dad died of a heart attack and he had smoked all his life and the doctors told us that he would've lived longer if he wouldn't smoked. I lost a teacher to cancer that helped me through my dad's death, my grandfather died of cancer that year as well. I had eleven people I knew that was close to me that died from a tobacco related illness (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). Of interviewees who talked about their motives for joining SWAT, nearly two-thirds reported tobacco-related death or illness in the family as their motivation for getting involved. For these youth, this aspect of the problem was a mobilizing factor. This description of tobacco as a serious health hazard was also consistent with the Florida Tobacco Program’s “official” SWAT rhetoric (described in Chapter 5) and might seem obvious, but other framings of tobacco as a problem also exist. For example, public information campaigns developed by the American Lung Association and other groups have focused on the social undesirability of smoking (especially among youth)—odors, bad breath, tooth stains, etc. Drug prevention groups (including the Florida Office of Drug Control) have asserted that tobacco is a “gateway drug.” Tobacco use, they say,

135 increases the likeliness of the use of other, presumably more dangerous, substances. Its possible to imagine other framings as well, including the problem of cigarette butts as litter, or lighted cigarettes as a fire hazard, or tobacco as a regressive tax on stupid people (like the lottery). However, none of these alternative, albeit not necessarily competitive, framings of tobacco-as-a-problem were mentioned in any of the eight sites. This unanimity, in the presence of available alternatives, might suggest that the tobacco program did a good job reinforcing and maintaining its key messages among its members. The second definitional aspect of tobacco as a problem, accounting for it’s presence in the social environment, met with less unanimity among the SWAT members, especially among the rank-and-file. The idea that the tobacco industry is to blame for the problem of tobacco use was present, as might be expected, and turned up often in the form of SWAT program slogans or fragments of slogans mentioning “manipulation” or “Big Tobacco.” Usually the callousness of the tobacco industry was highlighted to show it in the most negative light possible, as in this example of one youth’s message to his peers: “These industries are using you as a statistic, you're just making them money, you know. Not every industry is like that, but this one is threatening your life, you know” (White boy, age 16, Gator). Another said: “[The tobacco industry has] so many people die everyday, they have to have more people coming back. They have to sell the product more and more. So, they're aiming at teenagers and we just don't think it's right” (White girl, age 15, Urbana). These statements about the nature of the tobacco problem were typical among SWAT youth who named the tobacco industry as the source of the problem. However, other youth described the problem as having sources other than tobacco industry manipulation. Interviewees in Seashore referred to “peer pressure” as the cause if youth smoking, prompting another group member to vent frustration at those who continue to smoke: I don't even think it is peer pressure anymore, because I mean back then it was just concealed and you know, not as much heard about and said. But now that all everything's revealed… I feel it's a choice now. It's just a choice. Nobody can push you to smoke a cigarette. You do it on your own will. Nobody ain't holding a gun up to your head to do it, and if they do ‘put on the pack,’ they know it can

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cause lung cancer. So, they're just stupid for doing it. They basically want to kill themselves by smoking cigarettes (African American girl, age 16, Seashore). Among some SWAT youth, then, the focus on “Big tobacco” as the cause of tobacco- related grievances was less than clear, despite the slogans and “message work” (e.g. statewide campaigns like the previously mentioned Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is, by program staff and the BOD leadership.

Nature of the Solution

The prognostic moment of SWAT members’ collective action frame was difficult to assess, given the limitations of my data. We asked interviewees variations of the question “what does SWAT do” or “what do you think SWAT should be doing.” Their answers were often vague and far-reaching. A typical answer: “We create activities and advocacy events that will let Philip Morris know that we're out here and we're not going to take their lies anymore, and other tobacco companies, you know, not just them” (White girl age 18, BOD). SWAT members, with few exceptions, did not talk in terms of specific tactics or strategies for action, much less the relation of those strategies to specific aims. Despite such generalities, some insight into SWAT members’ solutions to tobacco problems was gained. For example, many spoke of the need to reach their peers with anti-tobacco messages: “I think that we're suppose[d] to be targeting the tobacco industries, but in order to target them, we have to let the younger generations know what their plan is” (White boy, age 18, Gator). Sometimes the goal of peer education was unspecified, sometimes specific: “To make them realize not everybody is doing it” (White girl, age 14, Panhandle 2). At most sites there was little talk of how the tobacco industry, so prominent in their descriptions of “the problem” might be affected by SWAT. One SWAT member tried to puzzle out the conundrum, without much success: “If enough people join SWAT, then obviously Big Tobacco is going to realize, hopefully, that this is killing people” (White girl, age 13, Seashore) These statements might be dismissed as naïve or even confused, but it should be noted that very few rationales for action were offered at all. Most interviewees were silent on exactly how the tobacco industry should be targeted by SWAT. It is unlikely, given the lack of either a coherent

137 statewide plan of action or local plans, and pervasively low levels of technical anti- tobacco knowledge held, that others could have articulated a compelling rationale if pressed. The exception was the Urbana site, where interviewees offered cogent solutions. Said one Urbana interviewee: “Really what SWAT is about, is to get things like this [tobacco product placement ordinance] passed and something ‘big’ done. And not only are we trying to target the community but to change our entire community by changing the government as well (White girl, age 16, Urbana). Another said SWAT was about “collecting petitions.” A third youth linked the ordinance to larger goals of “de- normalizing” tobacco: “[T]hat's an important step because once they see that it's a product that you have to actually ask for, they see that this isn't an acceptable product. This isn't a safe product. Not like, you know, grabbing a jug of milk off the counter” (White boy, age 15, Urbana). That these youth “sounded” like tobacco control activists was not incidental to their linkage between diagnosis and prognosis. The way to beat the tobacco industry was, in their view, to exercise political power within their community. Moreover, their ideas reflect their activities (and vice versa). This is a significant difference between Urbana and the other sites regarding issues of framing. While it is possible to examine frames as evidenced only by “talk” or a groups’ formal or informal statements, this practice has been criticized as part of an “ideational bias” in research on collective action frames: “In my view, no component of a movement’s overall framing work is more important… than the tactical choices it makes and the actual activities in which it engages” according to McAdam (1996:341). I agree. If Urbana’s actions speak louder than its words, perhaps so do those of the other sites. The actions, or rather inactions of the SWAT sites, (not excepting the BOD) may explain their relative inability to articulate strategies of action that target the tobacco industry in a meaningful way.

Motivation

A conceptually difficult moment of collective action frame theory is the issue of motivation, or “a motivation,” a noun, which is Snow et al.’s (1986) use of the term. Is to have a motivation the same as to be motivated? (If not, I’m not sure I understand the

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term.) I treat them as the same. Snow et al. (1986) call this moment the “call to action.” I think of it in terms of overcoming the free rider problem of neo-classical economics, in other words, why do some people sacrifice their time for a social movement organization when any benefits in the form of grievance amelioration would accrue to the entire class of those afflicted, not just to the movement workers? It’s an irrational choice under strict cost-benefit calculation. Motivation is what gets you to do it anyway. For some SWAT members interviewed, motivation is material or self-serving, not related to tobacco control. Several talked about the rewards of participation in terms of junkets to statewide events, college scholarship opportunities, free t-shirts or other gear, and free food. Others mentioned the acquisition of skills in public speaking or “leadership” through SWAT sponsored trainings. For others, motivation centered around affective bonds between friends “hanging out” together or attending the many SWAT “recruiting” events. Apart from these motivations, some of the youth had a motivation to participate in SWAT that was fueled by a passion for the cause. As previously mentioned, over half the interviewees who gave a reason for being involved talked about a family member who was dead or dying from tobacco. These powerful stories clearly fueled these youths’ passion for tobacco control; however, they do not necessarily align with notions of tobacco industry villainy or the need for a social action agenda. The parts that these emotions play in the construction of an anti-tobacco collective action frame are complex, and reported below.

Emotions and Mobilization in SWAT

Jasper (1997) has argued that emotions, especially anger that springs from perceptions of injustice, fuel motivations to participate in a social movement. Collins (2001) described social movement organization rituals functioning to amplify and focus “emotional energy”—the passion many activists feel toward their cause. Collins (2001) and Gould (2002) identified ways in which movement organizations work to transform emotions, especially among participants, from those which might be crippling to the psyche of the individual (shame, hate, fear) to moral outrage which facilitates collective

139 action by relocating negativity externally and toward a common target. The addition of the word “moral” to outrage is significant. It implies, as Collins (2001:28) notes: “The emotionally solidary group generates its own standards of right and wrong. The highest good becomes commitment to the group and sacrifice of individual selfishness on its service. Those who… …oppose it are morally tagged as unworthy, evil, or inhuman.” In other words, moral outrage implies not only anger, but a casus belli: it provides justification to react to anger. Much of the new work on emotions in social movements is concerned with identifying important patterns and processes specific to emotions in groups generally accepted as social movement organizations. Jasper (1997) studied Animal Rights and Anti-nuclear movement organizations. Collins (2001) work is based partly on his observations of the Berkley Free-Speech Movement of 1964. Gould (2002) studied the gay rights organization ACT-UP. Other researchers in this vein are similarly concerned with established or accepted social movement organizations. What I do is examine the emotions inside an organization in order to assess the organization’s claim to social movement organization status. If the claim is true, I should find evidence that the organization works to transform participant’s emotions to produce and sustain emotions of protest. Before going to the focus group data, I first want to talk about the issue of emotional energy (Collins 2001) at SWAT statewide meetings. Collins suggests that an important function of a movement’s group gatherings is a ritual function: that is, the use of chanting, slogans, and ceremonies toward the creation of a “social attention space” (2001:27) focused on the movement. This social attention space is the platform on which emotional energy is created within a movement organization. It is where workers in the movement get their “batteries recharged” and where they renew their commitment to the group. I saw this ritual aspect at each of the SWAT statewide gatherings I attended between 2001 and 2003. Each one, whether a BOD meeting or a Teen Summit, was characterized by choreographed periods of ritual chanting, rousing speeches, loud music and light shows (at Teen Summits) dramatic presentations of SWAT and Truth ads, and repeated use by presenters of SWAT slogans. Attendees, especially at the annual Teen

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Summits, were immersed in symbols of SWAT during the entire weekend-long BOD meetings or the four- or five-day long Summits. Perhaps regular attendance at these meetings accounts for the previously reported “passion” BOD members felt for SWAT, and their frustration with the lack of corresponding emotional intensity on the part of the rank-and-file, who did not, as a rule, attend statewide gatherings. Of the 67 focus group participants who were not BOD members, only seven (10%) had ever attended at statewide gathering (and five of these seven were Gator County youth). In 2001 the tobacco program claimed that Statewide SWAT membership exceeded 15,000 youth (the number reached 67,000 by 2003). If these numbers are true, then only a tiny fraction of SWAT youth could have ever participated in statewide gatherings. If these youth could not travel to the ritual for a shot of movement passion, then for some, the ritual traveled to them. In 1998, SWAT launched the “Truth Train” (discussed in Chapter 5)—a ten-day, multi-stop tour of the state, with SWAT members rallying from aboard a passenger train (commandeered by the Governor on their behalf). At least five BOD members in the focus groups referred to the Truth Train (an event nearly three years in the past) as a source of motivation for them or as a reason they became involved in SWAT. Explaining his and a friends’ early intensity of commitment toward SWAT, shortly after joining the organization, one BOD members said “…a few weeks later the Truth Train came around, me and him rode on it from Pensacola to Orlando, and then we just like we really, really, pushed for it and got more involved with SWAT (Hispanic boy, age 18, BOD). This was typical of several BOD members’ comments about the 1998 event. It was the only statewide SWAT event mentioned by them as an inspiration or reason for being involved. The 1998 Truth Train was the only attempt to have a SWAT tour or statewide gathering that could reach more than the 500- 600 Teen Summit attendees. After Chiles died in 1998, the new Governor did not offer to commandeer trains for the program or do anything that was similar. Assessing the emotional character of the Focus groups was not part of their original purpose. However, I was struck during the interviews, by differences from group to group in their enthusiasm for the issues being discussed, and began taking notes, which

141 later led me to explore this issue in the literature. Each site was distinctive in the overall emotional tone of the participants, as summarized in Table 6.4.

Table 6.4 Dominant emotions found at each study site Study Site Dominant Emotional Tone and Triggering Issues BOD Love, of their organization. Disappointment, regarding the difficulty in motivating the rank-and file Gator Affection, toward each other—a sense of group solidarity. Flat, on tobacco control. Panhandle 1 Disappointment, regarding declining levels of SWAT membership in the county. Panhandle 2 Enthusiasm, toward their faith-based youth outreach efforts. Flat, on tobacco control. Roma 1 Anger, toward their tobacco using peers. Flat, toward the tobacco industry. Roma 2 Enthusiasm, toward SWAT as a positive force in the interviewees lives* Seashore Anger, toward their tobacco using peers. Urbana Enthusiasm, toward their local tobacco control efforts. Anger, toward the tobacco industry and toward state officials. *Note: The interviewees at the Roma 2 site clearly regarded us, the interviewers, as authority figures, and throughout the interview, adjusted their responses in an apparent attempt to please us in case we were in position to offer them a boon. Probably this was an adaptive behavior in response to their confinement. I am inclined to disregard the emotional tone of this interview as disingenuous.

Table 6.4 shows several sites exhibited positive emotions: Love, Affection, and Enthusiasm. Only in Urbana County, however was this positive emotional energy not tempered by sadness or disappointment many youth felt maintaining in the attempt to maintain their positivity. Contrast this statement from the Panhandle 1 site: I thought it was going to be like a thing where a bunch of people were going to be participating and it started out that way and then it was like when you have a leak in your cup it gets, like, it just… the water goes out, and that's how it's been this year. There hasn't really been anybody that has actually put their effort into it. I like SWAT and it's cool, but it's like you just expect more from people. But our lives are really crazy and we have a lot of stuff to do, and some times people just can't do what they wanted to do. They can't hold up their commitment (White boy, age 13, Panhandle 1).

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…with this one from one Urbana youth: I think that a lot of the energy comes from the fact that people know that being involved in SWAT is making a difference in the community. Even though it might just be, like, one person, you know? The fact that they're involved is helping, and.... it's really amazing that people can change ideas and opinions about tobacco. And I know a lot of people that are in SWAT go out and they talk to their friends and they're like...‘Yeah, I'm doing this thing this weekend it's really cool…’and then all of a sudden they've got three friends that want to get involved (Hispanic girl, age 15, Urbana). The Urbana youth describes an environment of almost infectious enthusiasm, while the comment from the Panhandle 1 site, similar to statements made in several other sites, reveals an organization in decline. Another emotional characteristic of Urbana County that distinguished it from other sites was expressions of moral outrage against the tobacco industry. As I noted earlier, the deportment of the Urbana youth was distinctive. The youth “looked” like activists in that their energy was focused on the work of the movement. They were eager to talk about what they were doing in Urbana County to fight Big tobacco, whereas youth other sites were more easily sidetracked into discussions of other issues. One aspect of this deportment was the anger Urbana youth expressed toward the tobacco industry. One Urbana youth’s answer to the question of why he became involved in SWAT shows his frank contempt for the industry: “The tobacco company is getting rich off of all these smokers. And I feel like that’s not fair to get all that money and stuff [in order to] to kill people” (Hispanic boy, age 14, Urbana). What is surprising about this comment, given the anti-tobacco industry rhetoric of the SWAT organization, is that it was characteristic only of Urbana county, and to a lesser degree, of the BOD youth. Youth at other sites were much more likely to comment on the health hazards of tobacco use than the behavior of the tobacco industry. The passion and intensity expressed toward tobacco control by Urbana County SWAT youth is similar to what Gould (2001) described among AIDS activists in her study of the organization ACT-UP! It is indirect evidence, at least, that through participation in SWAT, these Urbana County youth developed a sense of moral outrage

143 against the tobacco industry that fueled motivation for action. As an emotion, moral outrage stands alone among the emotions of protest as a product of participation in social movement organizations. As Collins (2001) described it, moral outrage is the primary emotion fueling mobilization into what he calls conscience constituencies, the “glue” that binds social movement activists together toward common purpose. Interestingly, Urbana youths’ attitudes toward the current Governor and the Florida Legislature were nearly as contemptuous as their attitudes toward the tobacco industry. At one point in the interview, one youth, unable to restrain his agitation, interrupted another youth’s explanation of the Teen Summit to shout into the microphone “Jeb Bush give us our money!” (White girl, age 18, Urbana) Another complained about program’s funding, and implied his willingness to take political action “The legislature's just cutting and cutting and I really think that's, that's something that's key that needs to be changed—the legislature” (White boy, age 15, Urbana). After the tape was shut off after one of the Urbana interviews, several SWAT members stayed to ask us if we thought the report we would write would “make a difference” or be read by policy makers. These comments from the Urbana site show a group that is, in contrast to the bulk of the youth interviewees, outraged, and that their outrage fuels their passion for SWAT activity. Working backward from the high level of motivation in Urbana, it becomes clear that their prognostic, an action plan with a focus on local policy change, is aligned with their diagnostic, that tobacco problems are normative/collective as well as individual/behavioral. Using Snow et al.’s (1986) theory of collective action frames, this alignment would account for the vitality of Urbana’s SWAT. Similarly, the disjunction found at other sites, between a diagnostic pointing towards policy and a prognostic of health education, would account for their lack of motivation. This finding provides support for the theory of collective action frames, in that the site (Urbana County) that articulated tightly interrelated diagnostic, prognostic and motivational aspects of an anti- tobacco frame engaged in qualitatively different forms of collective action than youth at other sites. Contrasting the Urbana site to the other study sites shows the ways in which SWAT might have functioned as a locally-oriented anti-tobacco social movement organization, and the extent to which it did not. Similarly, the emotional makeup of

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Urbana SWAT youth was sustaining of a motivation for activism, unlike that of youth at other sites, suggesting support for the idea that emotions are at the center of mobilization dynamics. This finding may also point to the nature of the dilemma for the state in attempting to maintain SWAT while suppressing elements of its action agenda. If the maintenance of youth “passion” for tobacco control depends on the articulation of a collective action frame that links a particular understanding of the problem to a course of remedial action, and that course of action is made unavailable, the understanding of the problem is likely to become fragmented and the motivation for action lessened.

Summary and Conclusion

The focus group data reveal a SWAT organization that, three years after its founding and two years following a state administration regime change and internal reorganization, that is fractured, lacking clear focus, cut off from the larger anti-tobacco movement, and in some counties re-purposed from its original mission. To the extent that a focus remains on tobacco issues in 2001, it has been reconfigured so that Social action (including a policy focus) once a prominent component of SWAT’s overall mission, has been diminished in favor of a focus on health education. The exception among the county-based sites—Urbana County—is suggestive of how things might have been otherwise, rather than an indication that the statewide program represented a mobilizing force, given that Urbana’s action agenda was locally oriented and conducted absent direction from Tallahassee. SWAT and Tobacco Program elements in the field were monitored at a distance, through internet-based forms. Headquarters staff were not in a position to develop firsthand assessments of the organization as practiced at the local level. This may or may not have been a deliberate strategy on the part of program administrators to withhold guidance from SWAT and allow the organization to descend toward aimlessness, nevertheless the focus group data reveal the consequences of this neglect. Evidence of poorly aligned or non-existent collective action frames serve to refute SWAT’s claim to be a “youth movement.” Many SWAT youth were without basic activism skills or had limited awareness of tobacco control movement strategies and tactics, and some SWAT

145 teams were only nominally concerned with tobacco control. The SWAT youth also lacked unfettered control over resources, and had a limited sphere of influence within the tobacco program, not extending even to “their” movement’s media campaign. Overall these findings suggest the SWAT youth were not empowered to be tobacco-control advocates in 2001, despite the SWAT organization’s stated mission. Application of concepts from research on micro-mobilization in social movements, particularly the concepts of collective action frame (Snow and Benford 1988), emotional transformation (Gould 2001), and moral outrage (Jasper 1997; Collins 2001), highlight differences between study sites in terms of the basic question of whether SWAT (in 2001) acted as an anti-tobacco social movement organization, as it continued to claim through the use of an activist rhetoric. To a large extent, the findings show that SWAT had evolved (or devolved) from its original incarnation as a state-supported movement organization to an organization with no clear purpose.

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CHAPTER 7 DISCUSSION

Summary of Findings

This study tells the story of Florida’s Students Working Against Tobacco (SWAT), from its initial 1998 incarnation as a state-sponsored anti-tobacco social movement organization composed of teenagers, its fall from political favor after regime change in the state administration, the ways in which it was changed by state bureaucrats, and the effects these changes had on the organization in the period from 1999 through 2003. I was interested in the idea of the state, through SWAT, actively engaging in tactics for tobacco control that looked like social movement tactics—aggressive and public calls for industry reform. It seemed a roundabout way to effect public policy on tobacco. As I grew to know the program better, I realized nothing about SWAT and its bureaucratic parent—the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program—was straightforward. The organization seemed a mess of contradictions and ambiguity. As I came to find (and reported in Chapter 5) the ambiguity surrounding SWAT’s place in the anti-tobacco movement reflected its specific historical development as well as a specific political (in terms of Florida politics), institutional (in terms of public health), and organizational (in terms of the Florida Department of Health) context. I found that SWAT had been something other than what it was when I arrived in the scene in the Fall of 2000. The program’s original formulation, in 1998, two years before I began working there, was as an artificially “created” movement organization. Apparently, some people in the public health research community realized in the previous decade that tobacco was a social problem with political and economic causes, rather than a result of the moral or intellectual shortcomings of tobacco users. SWAT was intended to be an application of this new paradigm of public health—an attempt to use state resources to support the anti-tobacco movement through the creation of a movement organization, in hopes that movement tactics would be more effective in reducing tobacco’s harms than traditional public health tools had been. One of the remarkable

147 features of SWAT was that it would be “youth-led.” Members of SWAT directed and oversaw state officials in the program’s operation, including its media arm—the Truth campaign. But after only one year of program operation, the State of Florida’s government underwent a regime change from Democratic Party to Republican Party control. The Republican administration was not openly hostile to the idea of tobacco control but did object to the anti-industry tone of the media campaign. After a youth-led protest against proposed budget cuts (reported in Chapter 5) the program was purged of staff and the youth in SWAT were demoted in terms of authority and control. The program survived that turbulent time probably because of the intensity of its popular support. And in spite of the changes that followed, the rhetoric of “fighting Big Tobacco” that had helped make the program popular was retained. Findings reported in Chapter 5 are, principally as follows. In 1997 the State of Florida intentionally set out to create and support an organized anti-tobacco “youth movement,” which was launched in March 1998 as “Students Working Against Tobacco”; the SWAT organization adopted an action agenda which included policy aims relevant to the anti-tobacco movement in the State (in other words: SWAT “looked” like a social movement organization); shortly after the beginning of the Jeb Bush Administration in 1999, internal reorganization of the state bureau which housed SWAT stripped SWAT youth of their power and movement agenda; and program administrators used varied tactics to deflect and suppress youth resistance to changes to their organization. After 1999, SWAT represented an anti-tobacco movement organization in name only and became detached from the larger anti-tobacco movement. In Chapter 6, I report findings from inside the SWAT organization two years after the regime change. I was curious to see, with little in the way of an “action agenda” from the state office, and this continuing rhetoric of anti-tobacco industry youth action, how the youth membership actually participated in the program, and how that participation related to anti-tobacco “youth movement” claims from the program office. Did SWAT do the work of the movement? How could you tell? Chapter 6 addresses the SWAT organization as experienced by its membership, including those in statewide leadership positions and general local members. They show

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that in March 2001 (two years following substantial administrative and organizational shifts to the Tobacco Program), the SWAT leadership was struggling to motivate rank- and-file members, and, lacking a critique of the Tobacco Program’s political context or SWAT’s own history, was blaming itself for slowing the organization’s early momentum. At the local level, I found an organization without a clear and unified purpose and a wide variety of organizational adaptations to SWAT’s loss of a statewide policy agenda. I found SWAT had adopted individual approaches to tobacco prevention (especially health education), the capture or re-purposing of SWAT by local non-tobacco-related interests, and in at least one case, the development of a locally-focused tobacco policy agenda independent of direction from the statewide organization or the Tobacco Program office. Many SWAT youth lacked objective conditions of empowerment needed to act as tobacco control activists, including a critical consciousness of the State’s role in supporting “Big Tobacco.” With one exception, SWAT youth at local sites did not articulate a collective action frame regarding anti-tobacco movement activity. The exception, Urbana County, did articulate a collective action frame and mobilized on a local tobacco policy issue and expressed a high level of emotional energy, in contrast to their peers at other sites. Urbana County SWAT youth expressed a sense of moral outrage directed at both the tobacco industry and state officials. My findings highlight several issues within the Florida Tobacco Control Program and Students Working Against Tobacco pertinent to an assessment of the organization in relation to the anti-tobacco movement. Among them were the State’s means and methods for altering SWAT with minimal resistance from both within and outside the organization. The State used the youths’ dependence on adult staff for record-keeping, agenda setting, and other organizational functions to steer them away from a meaningful tobacco control policy agenda. Beyond the practical implications of this study as an assessment of a public health policy, it also advances two sociological questions pertinent to the study of social movements. Specifically, it problematizes the notion of state supported advocacy advanced by Wolfson (2001), and it shows that theories developed to describe the work of social movement organizations, can be used to assess organizations for which claims to SMO status are made. I address these contributions below.

149 SWAT as a Case of State-Movement Interpenetration

Wolfson (2001), in a case study of state involvement in the anti-tobacco movement in Minnesota, coined the term state-movement interpenetration to describe the collaborative relationship between state government agencies, especially the Minnesota Department of Health, and anti-tobacco movement organizations active in the state. He argues that interpenetration is a natural evolution of developments in public health approaches to tobacco control that had increasingly come to rely on social marketing campaigns bordering on anti-tobacco advocacy (discussed in Chapter 3). He writes: Both government and public health had increasing levels of experience with activism as a means of achieving particular policy ends. Thus, government actors have turned to achieve initiation of activities and sponsorship of and collaboration with advocacy organizations in order to pursue their interests in tobacco control. (Wolfson 2001:207-8) Wolfson suggests that state-movement interpenetration is a model that might best describe the contemporary anti-tobacco movement’s relationship to the State generally, not just in Minnesota. As I discussed in Chapter 3, Wolfson’s theory challenges existing theories about the political process of collective action, by positing a relatively optimistic and pluralistic account of how social change can be brought about through the joint efforts of state and movement actors with shared interests in promoting public health. The conventional way of looking at state-movement relations is that the state provides opportunity structures for mobilization (McAdam 1982; Tarrow 1988; McAdam et al. 1996). In other words, the assumption is that the state and social movements are fundamentally opposed. Even if the state creates a funding source and an organization structure for movement activity, it is assumed to represent the interests of the status quo, not a movement that is working for change. While a state-supported organization might have the potential to serve a social movement, it would need to be done covertly (Schmitt and Martin 1999) or through some sort of insurgency (Eisenstein 1996). Some researchers look for evidence of insurgency on the part of the actors inside state- supported organization to explain the utilization of state structures for movement aims.

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Wolfson (2001) found that the state health agency, largely due to the presence of an NCI ASSIST project (see Chapter 3), developed a complex relationship with movement organizations that was not easily explained by existing theories of state- movement interaction. In Minnesota, the state collaborated in planning and carrying out joint-advocacy campaigns (aimed at changing tobacco policy) with movement organizations under the direction of ASSIST project coordinators. Instead of the state being the target of movement action, it, in the form of the Minnesota Department of Health, acted as a partner with the movement. In the conclusion of his study, Wolfson offers several caveats to this rosy picture. Among them, the potential for constraints on movement tactics required by state “partners” (2001:203), the collaborative relationships’ vulnerability to regime change or “shifts in political leadership” (p.204) and consequent problems for movement continuity due to a growing “reliance on state structures” (p.204). The case of Florida’s SWAT organization bears out all three of Wolfson’s concerns to such an extent that I question the generalizability of the notion of state- movement interpenetration. Only under extreme short-term conditions, is it possible to imagine the constraints to movements through state-movement interpenetration, not outweighing the benefits. In cases of sustained interpenetration, lasting several years or more, constraints are apt to intensify. In Minnesota, regime change occurred in 2003, two years following publication of Wolfson’s (2001) study, with tobacco control funding severely curtailed and the SWAT-like youth-run program “Target Market” eliminated (Tobacco Free Kids 2004). These events suggest that the circumstances Wolfson studied were short-lived and perhaps unique to one state and period of time. My findings from Florida support this conclusion. One may ask about state-movement interpenetration: Who is using whom? Put another way, when do the constraints on movements outweigh the benefits of close coordination with the State? SWAT’s irrelevance to the 2002 ballot initiative for smoke- free workplace amendment (discussed in chapter 5) is one possible indication of the consequences of state-movement interpenetration. SWAT’s official sidelining on the ballot campaign shows that the state-sponsored youth organization was not a viable player, at least by 2002, in the anti-tobacco movement in Florida.

151 Sharp drops in youth smoking prevalence that occurred in Florida during the first four years of SWAT’s existence have been cited as evidence of the program’s success by Bauer and Johnson (2001) and Sly et al. (2001). Yet similar drops in prevalence occurred nationally during the same period (Johnston et al. 2003), suggesting that Florida may have been participating in a secular trend rather than experiencing program-specific outcomes. Additionally, Florida’s adult smoking rate has remained flat. The question of whether drops in youth smoking reflect real public health outcomes or delayed youth initiation is unanswered. In terms of a measured reduction in smoking, the effectiveness of SWAT is unclear. Toward a more global assessment, there is the issue of tobacco excise taxes. In addition to regulating secondhand smoke, raising state tobacco taxes has remained a major policy goal for the tobacco movement at the statewide level. Florida raised tobacco taxes in 1990, to 33.9 cents per pack, an increase that made its tobacco tax the seventh highest in the nation. Over the 1990s, however, as other states passed tax increases, Florida’s ranking slipped. By 1998, Florida was in the middle of the pack, with the 27th highest tax on cigarettes. This was the year a tobacco tax increase was (briefly) placed on the SWAT action agenda (reported in Chapter 5). In the five years that SWAT was funded by the State (from 1998-2003), tobacco taxes remained at 33.9 cents per pack. By 2003, Florida had the 42nd highest state cigarette tax, ahead of only a handful of low-tobacco tax states (most of which have major tobacco-growing agricultural sectors). Florida’s tobacco tax was was less than half the national average and less than one-sixth of the highest rate (New Jersey’s $2.05 per pack, passed in 2003). If tobacco taxes are a marker of the strength of a state’s anti-tobacco movement, Florida’s contemporary movement is weak, despite (or perhaps because of) the state’s multi- million dollar five-year investment in a youth movement against tobacco. Determining whether SWAT contributed to the anti-tobacco movement’s policy goals or reduced tobacco use in the State is difficult. It is impossible to say where the movement would have been had SWAT not existed, or how trends in smoking prevalence might have differed. One wonders, for example, to what extent the anti-tobacco groups who pushed for the maintenance of SWAT in the annual budget negotiations, did so at the expense of lobbying for tax increases or other tobacco control measures that might

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have produced more lasting effects. These issues of population trends and political process provide an insufficient basis to comment on the issue of state-movement interpenetration in the case of SWAT, and I would argue, in the case of Minnesota’s tobacco control movement as well. Of course, the viability of social movement organizations is not measured strictly in terms of their roles in producing policy outcomes for the movement. Their utility for movements, as reported in Chapter 2, can be conceptualized in terms of issues of micromobilization. In the case of SWAT, the question of its status as an anti-tobacco movement organization is also a question of whether it engaged in the work of mobilizing supporters for collective action. Micromobilization issues are pertinent to assessing consequences of state-movement relationships, including the concept of state-movement interpenetration, although Wolfson (2001) ignores them.

Micromobilization in SWAT

In Chapter 6, I use concepts from research on issues of micromobilization to explore youths’ experiences in SWAT. While the concepts of collective identity (Melucci 1989), collectives action frames (Snow et al. 1986), emotional transformation (Gould 2001), and the emotions of protest (Jasper 1997), including moral outrage (Collins 2001) were developed to describe the work that social movement organizations do, I use them to explore the mobilization potential of SWAT and assess its claim to status as a social movement organization. At root, the issues raised through an exploration of collective identity formation and collective action framing are similar. They reveal a contradiction between theory and practice, between rhetoric and action between diagnostic and prognostic, that limits mobilization potential by an organization. Urbana County, the exception to the rule, deviated from other sites to some extent on the nature of the youth’s collective identity and on the alignment between moments in their collective action frame. Urbana was the only site to clearly align prognostic, diagnostic, and motivational aspects of an anti- tobacco frame. This alignment was related to Urbana’s work on a local tobacco policy agenda (reported in Chapter 6).

153 It is with a look at emotions, however, that differences between study sites crystallize. Urbana was the only site where the youth’s discourse reflected moral outrage. It was the only site engaged in policy work suggesting a social action agenda. Moral outrage has been described as a product of social movement participation, produced by social movement organizations through the transformation of existing emotions. Perhaps this indicates the real work of Urbana County SWAT, and explains the motivation and ability of its members to do movement work. In contrast, emotions at other sites were varied but none showed moral outrage and none engaged members in the work of the movement to a similar degree. By exploring the emotional expressions of the SWAT youth, we can see that SWAT’s claim to social movement organization status was in question. Furthermore, with emotions we can see what may have been the structural impediment to SWAT’s viability as an SMO given its location within the state bureaucracy. The Urbana youth’s moral outrage, being primarily an emotional construct, was less subject to strategic tinkering than a purely rational/cognitive motivation might have been. Urbana Youth were as outraged at state leaders (perhaps more outraged) as at the tobacco industry. Perhaps emotions like moral outrage are the tigers that social movement activists ride. They are powerful but difficult to steer. Using micromobilization concepts in this way is promising. First, it leads to the finding that SWAT had a low potential for mobilization, which calls into question its status as a movement organization, and in turn, problematizes the notion of state- movement interpenetration as applied to state-supported anti-tobacco advocacy. The SWAT case suggests that a state-supported social movement organization may be other than what it appears. Reliance on formal statements of organizational purpose or other official rhetoric may be misleading. Second, this usage facilitates understanding of the concepts themselves—their points of overlap and their relative explanatory strengths. Concepts of identity, framing, and emotions all point to similar findings. Each micromobilization concept highlights the uniqueness of the Urbana site although in slightly different ways. Urbana youth identified as anti-tobacco activists more strongly than other youth. Their diagnostic of the problem, that tobacco was a problem of the political and regulatory environment, was

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aligned with their prognostic, the need to engage in the policy process for tobacco regulation. This alignment was missing in other groups. Finally, the Urbana youth expressed moral outrage against the tobacco industry that was more intense and more facilitative of collective action than emotions expressed at other sites. Both Melucci’s (1989) collective identity formation and Snow et al.’s (1986) collective action framing concepts stress the relationship between theory and practice in social movement organizations and both point to the importance of emotional aspects of participation. Melucci refers to the emotional investments that participants make in collective identities (1989:35) while Snow et al.’s third moment of collective action frame construction, motivation, is consistent with Collins (2001) concept of emotional energy; both concepts are discussed as the product of participation in a movement organization with a well-aligned diagnostic/prognostic or integrated theory/practice. Both represent the emotional “fuel” behind a participant’s willingness to commit time and energy to the movement. I suggest that Snow et al.’s concept of the motivational moment in collective action framing is another name for Melucci’s “emotional investment” that participants make toward the movement in their construction of collective identity, and that both concepts are related to the emotion of moral outrage. Recent concepts from the study of emotions in social movements do not detract from work on identity and framing. Rather they extend these concepts and enhance their utility. Used in tandem, these micromobilization concepts point squarely to problems in SWAT’s “youth movement” claims. They show how things could not have been otherwise for the organization unless the State fully committed to mobilizing against its own interests. Two additional issues emerged in this study. First, the utility of the concept of empowerment to generating an understanding of SWAT youth’s participation in the organization and, second, how a cloud of ambiguity regarding the purpose of the SWAT organization was maintained over time.

155 On Empowerment and Power

By defining empowerment in terms of four dimensions—self-direction; money (or control of resources); knowledge; and sphere of influence, I avoided defining empowerment exclusively in terms of inner psychological states, or accepting the notion that empowerment is a process of cultivating the perception of empowerment among the “empowered” (and measured through assessments of self-esteem, mastery, coping skills, or other psychological tests).25 The root of the term empowerment is “power,” which, when applied to groups of people can be thought of in terms of social or political impact or clout. Power, and by extension empowerment, is not about how someone “feels” about themselves, no matter how important intra-psychic states are for self-actualization. Power implies the idea of the ability to oppress or to be free from oppression, to produce results, to get things done. Without a conceptual understanding of power, empowerment efforts are destined to fail. Mansbridge and Morris (2001) argue for a re-focus on the central dynamic of power and oppression in social movement studies. Not power in an objective sense, but in the subjective acquisition of a sense of oppression, what the authors describe as an oppositional consciousness. The key to successful mobilization for a social movement, they argue, is cultivation of a collective mental state among potential movement actors that identifies themselves as oppressed and locates the source of the oppression, that “prepares members of an oppressed group to act to undermine, reform, or overthrow a system of human domination” (Mansbridge and Morris 2001:4-5). In other words, mobilization requires an “us versus them” mentality, oriented around a clearly identified condition of oppression. Their use of the concept of oppression affirms empowerment theory’s location in social relations. What does oppression have to do with empowerment? According to psychologically oriented researchers, there is little connection. Yet Brazilian Pedagogist Paulo Freire (1970), among the first to coin the term, does see a connection. Freire was concerned with the objectively powerless condition of the Brazilian Peasantry. As an

25 I believe this approach to the study of empowerment is flawed because it largely ignores the social structural conditions that provide the context or setting for cases in which “empowerment” is of interest.

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educator, he observed that one significant barrier to empowerment was ignorance of the structural forces that produce powerlessness, including the workings of the political system and the potential means of emancipation from poverty. Freire determined that the first condition toward the empowerment of Brazil’s peasants was for them to raise consciousness of themselves as oppressed and, importantly, to “name the thing that oppresses.” Consciousness-raising as a pre-condition of empowerment was a prevalent theme in feminist writing in the U.S. at about the same time (see Echols 1989), both in the sense of women’s consciousness of themselves as a class as well as a gender, and a consciousness of patriarchy as oppressive. Both Freire’s and feminists’ early conceptual forays into the notion of empowerment were grounded in ideas of social and/or political power. By applying empowerment in its Freirian and/or feminist meaning to SWAT youth in 2001, I can focus on the consciousness of the SWAT members as an oppressed class and their ability to identify or name the oppressor. I can ask what SWAT was doing to facilitate or obstruct consciousness raising. In its original formulation, as “A generation united against Big Tobacco,” SWAT was tasked with raising the oppositional consciousness of youth against the tobacco industry, and, if media reports of early SWAT events can be trusted, the program succeeded in this respect. Yet, as reported in Chapter 5, state officials and tobacco program staff reacted sharply to a student-led protest in 1999 that threatened to add “state officials” to the list of oppressors, putting them in the same category as tobacco companies as potential targets for movement action. The effect of internal shifts to the program were a loss of oppositional consciousness and a pervasive lack of tobacco activism—including knowledge of themselves and their organization and of tobacco control expertise. Based on this assessment, the biggest and first barrier to SWAT youths’ empowerment to act as anti-tobacco activists was not their ability to make decisions (they sometimes did), or ability to direct funds (limited, but also present), but in their failure to develop, sustain and utilize an oppositional consciousness that would position them in conflict with their adult advisors/supervisors. The concept of empowerment relative to SWAT presumes a power imbalance or deficit that deserves correction, and the existence of two groups—the empower-er and the empower-ee—with different interests, aims, and perspectives. The concept calls to mind

157 social service programs and other elements of the welfare state such as national job training, service learning, and drug rehabilitation programs. By describing SWAT youth in terms of their state of empowerment, a more basic issue is ignored which bears on the difference between SWAT and a traditional social movement organization: The issue of collective identity (Melucci 1989). In a viable social movement organization, participants are motivated by a common purpose, a sense of themselves and their cause. This is what Melucci (1989) calls a collective identity. As Melucci explains, collective identity is complex and shifting. Findings reported in Chapter 6 suggest that many SWAT youth possessed a degree of collective identity as anti-tobacco activists, even if it were somewhat artificially maintained through the use of program slogans rather than self-initiated practice. As shown, however, SWAT youth activists were located in a sort of bubble, with no way to connect meaningfully to the pertinent and contemporaneous issues of the wider anti- tobacco movement. They were captured by a bureaucracy that had its own set of interests and agenda. Empowerment (and the lack thereof) was an issue in SWAT only because the State maintained control over the SWAT organization and did not share the collective identity it manufactured for the youth. Rather than collaboration between movement and State, as Wolfson (2001) describes in Minnesota, Florida’s administrative control of SWAT allowed the State to adapt the organization’s mission to serve the political imperatives of the agency. SWAT youth may have perceived themselves to be anti-tobacco activists but they lacked the power for collective action as anti-tobacco activists. The condition was unstable. Collective identity formation must be analyzed in terms of its construction by means organic or artificial—from the “ground up” or the “top down,” in order to recognize possible sources of instability.

On the Failure to Define SWAT

The power differential between SWAT youth and adult staffers probably accounts for the ability of the staff to deflect resistance within the SWAT organization (principally from the SWAT Board of Directors) but it cannot account for staffs’ willingness to go along with a re-purposed SWAT. In successive years, the lobbying agendas of the

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various anti-tobacco health advocacy groups in Florida (American Lung Association, American Heart Association and American Cancer Society) included requests for full funding for the Tobacco Program and SWAT. They were, however, silent on on how SWAT was being run (Givel and Glantz 2000). Many of these groups had participated in the discussions surrounding the program’s development in 1997 and were in a position to know the extent to which the policy agenda of the early program had been subverted. Yet they offered no public outcry for restoring the program’s original mission. These groups have been criticized for “failing to defend” the tobacco program publicly in 1999, while it was undergoing forced reorganization (Givel and Glantz 2000). In contrast to the silence on the part of the health voluntaries, California-based Americans for Non-smokers Rights (ANR), and the D.C.-based Campaign for Tobacco- Free Kids (TFK) ran newspaper ads in Florida in 1999 criticizing Governor Bush and legislators John Thrasher and Debby Sanderson, and demanding that the Truth campaign be returned to youth control (Doc. 29). These out-of-state anti-tobacco movement organizations appear to have recognized that youth control was a critical issue to SWAT’s ability to participate in the movement. Yet their efforts were unable to generate sustained opposition to policy shifts that removed youth control. I am troubled by the failure of program evaluation efforts, of which I was a part, to identify the dynamics of social change in the program. Program evaluations over the Tobacco Program’s life (some prepared by me) gathered and presented evidence in support of the argument that the Tobacco Program “worked.” However, they avoided assessing SWAT’s viability as a social movement organization. They applied theories of health behavior that were descriptive, population-based surveys of trends in youth tobacco use prevalence and failed to identify mechanisms which might be driving the trends or the ways in which the Tobacco Program might be impacting change. A series of evaluations of the Truth ads (Doc. 56 and Doc. 57) measured levels of youth awareness of Truth ads but failed to explore their potential as mobilization tools for SWAT. They instead looked at the ads’ impact on smoking behavior, period. Evaluations of the Tobacco Program tended to ignore SWAT and focused on particular program interventions, such as tobacco education curricula and the media campaign. The Tobacco Program invested in annual population-based surveys to track

159 youth smoking trends (Bauer and Johnson 2001) but reports of survey results, like the media evaluations, failed to theorize how the program actually worked—what it represented as social policy, and the ways in which it might be expected to have an impact. Using the frame concept, program evaluations implicitly framed the tobacco problem at the level of individual health behavior and failed to recognize the SWAT organization’s status as a movement organization (Goffman 1974; Snow et al 1986). This framing of the problem hindered prediction and tracking of the organization’s decline produced by the State’s administrative actions. In a critical assessment of existing analysis of the 1960’s U. S. “War on Poverty” programs, deHaven-Smith (1988) summarized the evolution of the Community Action Programs (CAP) in a way that parallels Florida’s Tobacco Program. The idea of CAP arose out of a scientific consensus at the time among social scientists that a contributing factor to poverty was the political powerlessness of the poor. As originally conceived and implemented, CAPs were designed to overcome this deficit by “organizing the poor politically” (deHaven-Smith 1988:29; see also Piven and Cloward 1977). Soon after their launch, local government authorities perceived that CAPs might threaten the local status quo establishment. Pressure by local and state governments on federal authorities led to the reorganization of CAPs, and the War on Poverty in general, away from mobilization of the poor and toward less threatening approaches to poverty reduction (deHaven-Smith 1988:114). The experience of CAP programs parallels that of SWAT; both programs were victims of their success. deHaven-Smith makes three points regarding Community Action Programs that bear on my study. The first is the idea that 40 years after the War on Poverty, it is still possible to debate the effectiveness of the CAPs and even to disagree about appropriate measures of their success, citing conflicting evaluations of CAPs that arrive at radically different conclusions about the programs’ effects. Second, deHaven-Smith claims that all policy evaluations contain theory, sometimes explicit, often implicit, that determine the questions asked and the findings generated. In the case of the War on Poverty, theories of the root causes of poverty and the social, political, economic, and cultural factors that maintain poverty, as well as theories of the dynamics of change, are implied in the program’s design, but not stated explicitly. Third, the “tool” of policy analysis known as

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program evaluation is inadequate in concept and practice to the task of assessing policy. Program evaluation involves the analytic isolation of interventions, target groups, impacts, and outcomes in order to establish program effectiveness. True to its original function as a military weapons testing tool (deHaven-Smith 1988:ix), program evaluation is ideally atheoretical, empiricist, and reductive. As a result, program evaluation is ill- suited to identify unintended or unforeseen consequences of interventions or to ascertain whether a program affects a larger policy framework, for example, a particular theory of the State. SWAT’s sequence of events is analogous to those of the Community Action Programs. In both cases, the State set out to address a social problem through a policy intervention that involved mobilizing collectivities of people. Both experienced early successes in accordance with this intent. Both mobilized their target populations politically to address an identified social problem and both triggered a backlash from existing political power wielders. For CAPs, the backlash came from local and state governments; for SWAT, the Governor and legislature of Florida. Predictably, both programs were altered to eliminate their most threatening aspects. Finally, both were ill- served by program evaluations. The failure to identify mobilization as the center of the policy intervention may have contributed to policy makers’ and bureaucrats’ belief that they could tinker with the interventions and still preserve the program’s core functions. However, mobilization was the core intervention and it was this dynamic that produced potentially real change and thus threat. After the changes were made, the programs were cutoff from their mobilization goals and incoherence was the result.

Conclusions

It is my hope that others who study Florida’s SWAT experiment will build on the findings of this study, both empirically and theoretically. The uniqueness of having a State formally sponsor youth mobilization and, to its leaders’ apparent surprise, succeed at this task merits additional analysis. My results show that teenagers can have a political identity, develop a collective consciousness, and become emotionally invested and proactive in producing real social change. Any assumption that America’s youth are

161 politically uninterested and/or incapable is undermined by my results. And yet, the results show that state-sponsored youth mobilization is fragile and that the conditions— political, cultural, and material—that make it sustainable are complex. Still, I am heartened by observing the political savvy and activism of the mobilized youth in Urbana County. If they can do it, others can as well. In the “new social movements,” battle lines between friend and foe, between “us and them” are not always clearly drawn. My results will, I anticipate, shed light on the complex dynamics between political processes and social movements that shape, and are shaped, through the medium of state policy interventions; and, hopefully, point out conditions required for less powerful people to succeed at mobilizing on behalf of the issues that concern them.

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APPENDIX A. NEWSPAPER SOURCES

Adair, Bill. 1998a. "Florida does well on kids cigarettes." St. Petersburg Times, February 28, A1. Adair, Bill. 1998b. "Senate debates tobacco lawyers' fees." St. Petersburg Times, May 20, A3. Albright, Mark. 1998. "Waging a battle for hearts, minds, lungs." St. Petersburg Times, January 25, H1. Ashmore, Michon. 2001. "Tobacco Control Worth Expense, Protesters Say." Tampa Tribune, October 25, A10. Backman, Lisa. 1995. "Ads aimed at teens who say 'Gross us out'." Tampa Tribune, September 2, A1. Balbach, Edith, and Stanton Glantz. 2000. Tobacco War: Inside the California Battles. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ballingrud, David. 1997. "Tobacco settles Florida lawsuit for $ 11.3-billion." St. Petersburg Times, August 26, A1. Bartlett, Ron. 1995a. "Chiles revives anti-tobacco law; Veto snuffs out repeal attempt." Tampa Tribune, June 16, A1. Bartlett, Ron. 1995b. "Tobacco war goes to Supreme Court." Tampa Tribune, November 7, A3. Bartlett, Ron. 1996a. "A slugfest in Senate looms over tobacco." Tampa Tribune, March 9, A1. Bartlett, Ron. 1996b. "Butterworth attacks tobacco ads; State's investments could affect pitch toward children." Tampa Tribune, March 21, A1. Baxter, Tom. 1997. "Tobacco cases may fire up Democrats." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, August 28, B1. Beck, Joan. 1997. "Don't expect much from Big Tobacco." Tampa Tribune, May 13, A7. Becker, Jo. 1999. "Tobacco program may get reprieve." St. Petersburg Times, March 27, B1. Blair, Ronnie. 1999. "Teens campaign against tobacco ads." Tampa Tribune, June 12, A1. Boggs, Marlene. 2001. "Teens hold anti-tobacco summit." Tampa Tribune, June 7, A3. Broder, John M. 1997. "Tobacco Pact in Florida Fuels Debate on National Accord." The New York Times, August 28, A22. Burritt, Chris. 1997. "Florida vs. Big Tobacco; Industry witness: Cigarettes safe enough." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, August 1, A10. Chepak, Rob. 1996. "Tobacco talks said stalled." Tampa Tribune, July 27, A1.

163 Chiles, Lawton. 1995. "On smoking: State vs. Tobacco Industry." Miami Herald, March 13, A13. Chiles, Lawton. 1996. "Ask senators to stand up to big tobacco." Tampa Tribune, March 10, A6. Clark, Lesley. 1999. “Anti-Tobacco Ad Staff Cut, Alarming Activists.” Miami Herald, June 3, B1. Collins, Glenn. 1996. "Court Clears Way for Flight Attendants to Sue Tobacco Companies on Secondhand Smoke." The New York Times, January 5, A10. Collins, Glenn. 1997. "Settlements Cut Deeply Into Tobacco Profits." The New York Times, October 22, D4. Cox, David and Gady A. Epstein. 1997. "Chiles gets boost in tobacco bill fight." Tampa Tribune, April 11, A6. Cox, David. 1997. "Critics seek cigarette tax." Tampa Tribune, March 29, A6. Dahl, David. 1996. "No-smoke effort gets state puff of praise." St. Petersburg Times, January 14, B1. Danielson, Richard. 1998. "Camel promotion trots into clubs." St. Petersburg Times, February 22, B3. Dougherty, Larry. 1998. "Class-action status sought for tobacco suit claiming false ads." St. Petersburg Times, July 1, B3. Dow Jones News Service1997. "Legal deals stunt tobacco profits; But shares rise after Philip Morris, RJR meet Wall Street expectations." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, October 22, F1. Downey, Maureen. 1997. "Where there's smoke. . . Tobacco giant's music tour raises ire of health groups who accuse firm of targeting girls." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, April 3, D1. Dyckman, Martin. 1990. "Florida lawmakers are far too cozy with lobbyists." St. Petersburg Times, July 22, D5. Dyckman, Martin. 1992. "A lobby's poisonous fight." St. Petersburg Times, January 23, A14. Dyckman, Martin. 1994. "Florida law is no example of how to fight tobacco." St. Petersburg Times, July 12, A9. Dyckman, Martin. 1996a. "The swing vote on tobacco law." St. Petersburg Times, March 7, A19. Dyckman, Martin. 1996b. "Will business lobby solidarity go up in smoke?" St. Petersburg Times, March 21, A19. Dyckman, Martin. 1996c. "Instead of a suit a higher cigarette tax." St. Petersburg Times, April 30, A9. Dyckman, Martin. 1997. "For candor regarding contributors." St. Petersburg Times, January 21, A11.

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Dyckman, Martin. 1997. "The courage to boost tobacco taxes." St. Petersburg Times, May 13, A9. Dyckman, Martin. 1999. "Ad campaign works too well." St. Petersburg Times, March 21, D3. Elliot, Stuart. 1998. "Crispin Porter & Bogusky coordinates Florida's anti-smoking campaign by and for teen-agers.." The New York Times, April 14, D8. Elmore, Charles. 1999. “State Fires Director of Smoking ‘Truth’ Ads.” Long beach Post, March 18, A1. Epstein, Bruce. 2001. "Teenage team gets the 'truth' out there." St. Petersburg Times, February 22, D2. Epstein, Gady A. 1996. "Tobacco investments a dilemma for state." Tampa Tribune, November 13, A1. Epstein, Gady A. 1997a. "State clears hurdle in tobacco battle." Tampa Tribune, January 10, A7. Epstein, Gady A. 1997b. "Big tobacco fires back at Florida." Tampa Tribune, February 13, A6. Epstein, Gady A. 1997c. "Governor links tobacco to teen alcohol drug use." Tampa Tribune, February 13, A6. Epstein, Gady A. 1997d. "Chiles, anti-tobacco groups escalate their battle against cigarette makers." Tampa Tribune, February 27, A6. Epstein, Gady A. 1997e. "House panel relights repeal of tobacco law." Tampa Tribune, April 1, A4. Epstein, Gady A. 1997f. "Tobacco official meets Chiles." Tampa Tribune, April 12, A1. Epstein, Gady A. 1997g. "Speaker: Tobacco suit safe this session." Tampa Tribune, April 16, A4. Epstein, Gady A. 1997h. "Chiles lauds state role in fight." Tampa Tribune, April 17, A15. Epstein, Gady A. 1997i. "State angers tobacco in press leak." Tampa Tribune, August 17, A13. Epstein, Gady A. 1997j. "Money will help provide health care to children." Tampa Tribune, August 27, A5. Epstein, Gady A. 1997k. "Chiles beams after victory over tobacco." Tampa Tribune, August 28, A1. Epstein, Gady A. 1997l. "Drug abuse prevention campaign to target teenagers." Tampa Tribune, October 8, A4. Epstein, Gady A. 1997m. "Mortham says she's not beholden to tobacco firm." Tampa Tribune, November 23, A8. Epstein, Gady A. 1997n. "Mortham spent donation on gifts." Tampa Tribune, November 23, A1. Feder, Barnaj. 1996. "Tobacco’s Broken ranks: The Overview; Industry Split By Major Deal In Tobacco Suit." The New York Times, March 14, A1.

165 Ferris, Gerrie. 1995. "4 states join to fight cigarette companies." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, March 9, A3. Gailey, Philip. 1994. "Chiles stalks tobacco with unfair tactics." St. Petersburg Times, June 19, D2. Goffard, Christopher. 2000. "Teens get cigarette ordinance passed." St. Petersburg Times, December 07, B3. Goodman, Ellen. 1997. "Tobacco controversy comes to a moment of truth." Tampa Tribune, March 31, A9. Graham, Chad. 1998. "Tobacco companies heating up club scene." St. Petersburg Times, August 16, H1. Gruss, Jean. 1997. "Tobacco billboards fall in settlement." Tampa Tribune, August 26, A4. Hammer, Esther. 2000. "Students' stark works of art illustrate dangers of smoking." Tampa Tribune, June 8, A1. Hauserman, Julie. 1999. "State cuts staff budget for anti-smoking program." St. Petersburg Times, June 03, B5. Hayes, Suzanne. 1999. "Pasco teens to host anti-tobacco summit." St. Petersburg Times, June 06, A9. Head, John. 1996. "Tobacco's End Game?; The climate in which tobacco companies sell their products has never been so hostile; Cigarette makers on the ropes." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, November 17, H2. Heckinger, Lauren and Adam Riveiro1999. "Truth ads." Tampa Tribune, April 5, A5. Hegarty, Stephen. 1998a. "Chiles attacks teen smoking at its source." St. Petersburg Times, March 15, A1. Hegarty, Stephen. 1998b. "Florida's SWAT sets an example for a nation at war with tobacco." St. Petersburg Times, June 20, B1. Hegarty, Stephen. 1998c. "Caustic new ads burn tobacco allies." St. Petersburg Times, July 19, B1. Hegarty, Stephen. 1998d. "Pitch is a hit but will teens quit?" St. Petersburg Times, August 31, B1. Hegarty, Stephen. 1999. "Truth ad will target teens on Sunday." St. Petersburg Times, January 28, B1. Hegarty, Stephen. 2001a. "Teen anti-smoking program effective despite budget." St. Petersburg Times, January 12, B6. Hegarty, Stephen. 2001b. "Florida's anti-tobacco ad reaches new arena." St. Petersburg Times, January 26, X10. Hegarty, Stephen. 2001c. "Anti-smoking ads work, say experts." St. Petersburg Times, March 22, B5.

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Helfand, Lorri. 2002. "Teen tobacco foes fight secondhand smoke." St. Petersburg Times, June 22, A1. Hiaasen, Carl. 1997. "Shout it now: CIGARETTES ARE POISON!" Tampa Tribune, April 2, A9. Hussey, Megan. 2002. "Student Group Plans Race To Fight Tobacco." Tampa Tribune, May 5, A4. Jackson, Karla. 1998. "TEENS & THE TRUTH; Truth campaigners are getting the word out to peers about smoking and; tobacco industry tactics.." Tampa Tribune, June 29, A5. Kassab, Beth. 1999. “Students Sense Run Around: Anti-Smoking Plea Stalls At Capitol.” Florida Times-Union, March 17, B5. King, Robert. 1998. "Teens work to snuff out tobacco." St. Petersburg Times, August 15, A1. Klas, Mary Ellen. 2001. “Ads against cigarettes may go up in smoke.” The Palm Beach Post. November 10, A1. Lavelle, Louis. 1996a. "Tobacco measure again allows hiring of private lawyers." Tampa Tribune, April 24, A6. Lavelle, Louis. 1996b. "Tobacco suit foes offer up 18-cent tax." Tampa Tribune, May 1, A1. Lavelle, Louis. 1996c. "High court upholds key parts of tobacco law." Tampa Tribune, June 28, A1. Ledig, Sean C. 1995. "Anti-tobacco coalition gears up local effort." Tampa Tribune, February 26, A1. Mahan, Charles S. 1995. "Adults must act to curb teen smoking." Tampa Tribune, August 26, A12. McMurray, Jeffrey. 1999. “Politics Overshadow Teens Anti-Tobacco Ads.” Miami Herald, March 28, B2. Meier, Barry. 1997a. "Chief of R.J. Reynolds Says Smoking Has Role in Cancer." The New York Times, August 23, A7. Meier, Barry. 1997b. "Cigarette Makers Agree To Settle Florida Lawsuit." The New York Times, August 26, A1. Meier, Barry. 1997c. "August 24-30; Florida Gets Concessions From Cigarette Makers." The New York Times, August 31, D2. Meier, Barry. 1998a. "Big Tobacco And 8 States Are Near Deal." The New York Times, November 11, A21. Meier, Barry. 1998b. "Remaining States Approve the Pact on Tobacco Suits." The New York Times, November 21, A1. Meier, Barry. 1998c. "Cigarette Makers Announce Large Price Rise." The New York Times, November 24, A20. Meier, Barry. 1998d. "Tobacco Bill's Death Is Likely to Prompt Litigation Landslide." The New York Times, June 19, A22.

167 Melone, Mary Jo. 1998. "What have they been smoking up there?." St. Petersburg Times, March 19, B1. Mercer, Marsha. 1997. "No ID no sale' begins for cigarettes." Tampa Tribune, March 1, A5. Metz, Kevin. 1995a. "House panel votes to repeal anti-smoking law." Tampa Tribune, April 29, A8. Metz, Kevin. 1995b. "Court says Legislature overstepped authority." Tampa Tribune, July 29, A6. Metz, Kevin. 1996a. "Chiles vows fight over tobacco law." Tampa Tribune, February 27, A3. Metz, Kevin. 1996b. "Chiles fires up campaign against tobacco." Tampa Tribune, March 8, A8. Metz, Kevin. 1996c "Chiles snuffs out tobacco; The Senate vote may have extinguished the industry's best hope for repealing a 1994 law." Tampa Tribune, March 14, A1. Metz, Kevin. 1996d. "Filtered anti-tobacco bill gets nod." Tampa Tribune, March 26, A1. Metz, Kevin. 1996e. "Tobacco flap spurs threat of reprisal; Florida's attorney general threatens to pull state business from a law firm for which a prominent tobacco lobbyist works." Tampa Tribune, March 29, A1. Moore, Edwin H. 2002. "Using Vice To Fund Something Virtuous." Tampa Tribune, June 2, A1. Morgan, Lucy. 1995a. "Tobacco companies try to block state action." St. Petersburg Times, February 21, B5. Morgan, Lucy. 1995b. "Florida sues tobacco industry." St. Petersburg Times, February 22, A1. Morgan, Lucy. 1995c. "Tobacco suit allies to pool efforts." St. Petersburg Times, March 9, B4. Morgan, Lucy. 1995d. "Law allowing tobacco suit is hit with repeal effort." St. Petersburg Times, March 29, B1. Morgan, Lucy. 1995e. "Senate votes to repeal tobacco suit law." St. Petersburg Times, May 2, B5. Morgan, Lucy. 1996a. "Senator says tax could end tobacco lawsuit." St. Petersburg Times, April 30, B7. Morgan, Lucy. 1996b. "Business supports tobacco tax." St. Petersburg Times, May 1, B5. Morgan, Lucy. 1997a. "Lawyers capitalize on state's cigarette making." St. Petersburg Times, January 25, B1. Morgan, Lucy. 1997b. "Tobacco's clout growing ever more hazy." St. Petersburg Times, April 12, B5. Moss, Bill and John D. McKinnon. 1991. "Chiles plans to submit 2 budgets." St. Petersburg Times, November 21, B1. Moss, Bill, John D. McKinnon, and Charlotte Sutton. 1990. "House snuffs cigarette tax, gives gas tax go-ahead." St. Petersburg Times, April 20, B5.

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Moss, Bill. 1992. "Lobbyist money hits the mark anyway." St. Petersburg Times, February 10, B1. Moss, Bill. 1994a. "Smoking foes fired up for bill." St. Petersburg Times, May 19, B1. Moss, Bill. 1994b. "Chiles signs anti-tobacco measure." St. Petersburg Times, May 27, A1. Moss, Bill. 1995. "Legal big guns line up for billion-dollar tobacco fight." St. Petersburg Times, November 7, B5. Navarro, Mireya. 1997. "Florida to Sell Tobacco Stocks From Its Retirement Fund." The New York Times, May 29, B10. Nealy, Jouncie L. 1999. "Children find creative ways to help snuff out smoking." St. Petersburg Times, April 18, A14. Nickens, Tim and Diane Rado. 1990. "Tight Martinez budget would increase cigarette tax by 19 cents." St. Petersburg Times, February 16, A1. Palosky, Craig S. 1995. "State lawsuit lights up tobacco war." Tampa Tribune, February 22, A1. Palosky, Craig S. 1996. "Teens huff and puff but anti-smoking advocates applaud crackdown." Tampa Tribune, August 24, A12. Porter, Lynn. 2002a. "Teens Aim To Smoke Out Big Tabacco." Tampa Tribune, June 20, A2. Porter, Lynn. 2002b. "SWAT Summit Not Blowing Smoke." Tampa Tribune, June 23, A6. Porter, Lynn. 2002c. "The Truth' Gets Results." Tampa Tribune, July 21, A1. Rado, Diane. 1993. "Cigarette bill seeks a healthy rise in tax." St. Petersburg Times, February 9, B1. Rado, Diane. 1997. "Legislators scorn Chiles cigarette tax." St. Petersburg Times, January 24, B1. Ritchie, Paulette Lash. 2002a. "Smoke-free eats help SWAT breathe easy." St. Petersburg Times, September 19, A6. Ritchie, Paulette Lash. 2002b. "A Rally To End All; Antismoking at its biggest." St. Petersburg Times, September 28, A1. Rohter, Larry. 1994. "Florida prepares new basis to sue tobacoo industry ." The New York Times, May 27, A1. Rosen, Marty. 1998a. "Legislators give Moffitt $ 100-million." St. Petersburg Times, May 2, A1. Rosen, Marty. 1998b. "Chiles signs bills for cancer center." St. Petersburg Times, June 11, B1. Ruth, Daniel. 1998. "Just a few questions for Charlie." Tampa Tribune, March 27, A4. Scott, Jeffry. 1992. "Cancer society buying ad space." The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, 38343, E2. Siegal, Autumn N. 2001. "Up in smoke?" St. Petersburg Times, November 05, D3. Silva, Mark. 1993. "Cigarette firms fo all out over 25-cent tax ." Miami Herald, May 9, A1.

169 Silva, Mark. 1996. "Tobacco Money Pumped Into Senators' Campaigns." Miami Herald, April 16, B6. Sloan, Jim. 1998. "Missing billboard muffles media event." Tampa Tribune, February 10, A4. Sosteropoulos, Jacqueline. 1996. "Floridians want tobacco industry to pay." Tampa Tribune, November 29, A1. Spector, Rachel. 1995. "Ad campaign brings warnings up to snuff." Tampa Tribune, January 24, A1. Talev, Margaret. 1997. "Chiles' victory filtered." Tampa Tribune, September 11, A1. Testa, Karen. 1997. "Memo Proposed Cigarette Brand For KidS." Miami Herald, August 15, B5. Thompson, Bill and Bill Moss. 1992. "Chiles vetoes smokers' rights." St. Petersburg Times, April 11, A15. Troxler, Howard. 1999. "As smoke clears, pure politics is in the air." St. Petersburg Times, March 22, B1. Valente, Mickie. 1996. "Seeing through the smoke." Tampa Tribune, December 17, A1. Wagner, Norma. 1990. "Changes urged in smoking law: Group sets up number to collect complaints." St. Petersburg Times, January 14, A1. Webb, Jeff. 1996. "Legislators should reject tobacco's donations." St. Petersburg Times, April 18, A2. Williams, Ashley and Erica Reed. 2000. "Distinguished Extinguishers;." Tampa Tribune, April 17, A5. Willon, Phil. 1995. "Bill rejects tobacco suit law; It would repeal last year's statute making it easier to sue cigarette makers." Tampa Tribune, May 6, A4. Willon, Phil. 1997. "$ 1.50 tax eyed to curb smoking." Tampa Tribune, December 10, A10. Wimmer, Amylia. 1999. "Teens ask county for tobacco ad ordinance." St. Petersburg Times, March 24, A1. (staff editorial) . 1996. "A smart cigarette attack." St. Petersburg Times, May 2, A14. (staff editorial). 1999. “The Strange Case of Peter Mitchell.” Tampa Tribune, March 20, A14. (staff report). 1995a. "Tobacco ads encourage teen smoking." Tampa Tribune, December 10, A3. (staff report). 1995b. "Massachusetts Files Suit Against Tobacco Industry." The New York Times, December 20, A16. (staff report). 1996. "A shameless ring of smoke." Tampa Tribune, May 2, A12. (staff report). 1997a. "Senate keeps tobacco tax out of budget deal." St. Petersburg Times, May 22, A3. (staff report). 1997b. "Tobacco jihad' resumes." Tampa Tribune, March 7, A6. (staff report). 1997c. "Liggett admits smoking addictive." Tampa Tribune, March 21, A1.

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(staff report). 1997d. "The smoke begins to settle." St. Petersburg Times, March 22, A16. (staff report). 1997e. "Mack doesn't back cigarette tax increase." St. Petersburg Times, May 11, A6. (staff report). 1997f. "Tobacco papers reveal cover-up." Tampa Tribune, August 7, A1. (staff report). 1997g. "Florida's $ 11.3 billion settlement is hardly devastating to Big Tobacco." Tampa Tribune, August 26, A6. (staff report). 1997h. "Settlement Smokescreen?" The New York Times, September 2, A20. (staff report). 1997i. "Mortham's slush fund." St. Petersburg Times, November 26, A18. (staff report). 1998a. "The tobacco mess." St. Petersburg Times, April 2, A18. (staff report). 1998b. "Sting brings anti-tobacco message for youths." St. Petersburg Times, September 29, B4. (staff report). 1998c. "Tobacco to pay lawyers $ 3 billion;." Tampa Tribune, December 12, A1. (staff report). 1999a. "SWAT away those smokes." Tampa Tribune, March 19, A1. (staff report). 1999b. "Students preach anti-smoking." St. Petersburg Times, March 31, A3 (staff report). 1999c. "Students against tobacco." Tampa Tribune, April 1, A12. (staff report). 1999d. "Short on 'Truth'." St. Petersburg Times, April 21, A12. (staff report). 1999e. "Governor says he’s a reformed smoker." Florida Times-Union, August 19, B1. (staff report). 2000a. "Tobacco-Free Coalition speakers available." St. Petersburg Times, January 12, A2. (staff report). 2000b. "Tobacco-Free Coalition speakers available." St. Petersburg Times, January 23, A7. (staff report). 2001. "Teens Present Antitobacco Ideas." Tampa Tribune, December 16, A4. (staff report). 2003. "Youths to rally in statewide fight against tobacco." St. Petersburg Times, March 20, A8. (wire service report). 1995. "Court upholds state's right to sue industry." St. Petersburg Times, April 20, B6. (wire service report). 1996a. "Tobacco unity cracks; Cigarette maker Liggett offers up to $ 50 million a year to settle nicotine addiction charges." Tampa Tribune, March 14, A1. (wire service report). 1996b. "Target rids tobacco." Tampa Tribune, August 28, A5. (wire service report). 1998a. "National News Briefs; Government Campaigns Against Youth Smoking." The New York Times, March 1, A19. (wire service report). 1998b. "Tobacco says no deal, industry to fight back." Tampa Tribune, April 9, A1. (wire service report). 1999. “Anti-Smoking Ads Going Up in Smoke? Their Effectiveness Now In Dispute” Florida Times-Union, March 16, B3.

171 APPENDIX B. PROGRAM DOCUMENTS AND OTHER SOURCES

Doc. # Type Description 1 Advocacy Guide SWAT, Florida Tobacco Pilot Program, Florida Department of Health, Florida Center for Tobacco Education, and the Nixon Group. 1999. Hype it! Guide. 2 Advocacy Guide SWAT, Florida Tobacco Pilot Program, Florida Department of Health, Florida Center for Tobacco Education, and the Nixon Group. 1999. Build it! Guide. 3 Advocacy Guide SWAT, Florida Tobacco Pilot Program, Florida Department of Health, Florida Center for Tobacco Education, National Center for Tobacco-Free Kids, and the Nixon Group. 1999. Change it! Guide. 4 Advocacy Guide Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco.2000. Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is! 5 Orientation Guide Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco.2001.SWAT Board of Director's Orientation Guide: 2001-2002 6 Orientation Guide Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco.2002.SWAT Board of Director's Orientation Guide: 2002-2003 7 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2000. 2000 1st Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (September 8-10, Wesley Chapel, FL) 8 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2000. 2000 2nd Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (December 8-10, Palm Coast, FL) 9 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2001. 2001 3rd Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (February 23-25, Tallahassee, FL) 10 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2001. 2001 4th Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (June 17-18, Orlando, FL) 11 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2001. 2001 1st Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (September 7-9, Destin, FL) 12 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2001. 2001 2nd Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (November 2-4, Orlando, FL) 13 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2002. 2002 3rd Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (March 8-10, Umatilla, FL) 14 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2002. 2002 4th Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (June 17-19, Clearwater, FL) 15 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2002. 2002 1st Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (October 11-13, Daytona Beach, FL) 16 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2002. 2002 2nd Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (December 6-8, Orlando, FL)

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17 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2003. 2003 3rd Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (February 7-9, Orlando, FL) 18 Meeting Packet Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2003. 2003 4th Quarterly SWAT Board of Directors Meeting (May 2-4, Kissimmee, FL) 19 Meeting Packet Tobacco Pilot Program.1998. Procurement Information Meeting Agenda. http://www.state.fl.us/tobacco/procurement/0515handout.pdf (accessed 4/5/2003) 20 Invitation to Negotiate Florida Program to Reduce Youth Tobacco Use: Application Packet and Questionnaire. 1997. http://www.state.fl.us/tobacco_faq/index_new.html (accessed 4/5/2003) 21 Brochure Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco.(circa 2002). Florida's Youth Live Tobacco Free. 22 Brochure Fonville, Hinckle and Lewis, Attorneys at Law. 2000. Law Talk: Making Big Tobacco Pay the Damages 23 Program Plan Florida Department of Health. Florida Tobacco Pilot Program and Pascarelli Associates. 1998. Florida Tobacco Pilot Program, Office of the Governor. Formal Strategic plan. 24 Program Plan Florida Department of Health. Tobacco Prevention and Control Program, and the Florida Leadership Council for Tobacco Control. 1999. Florida Tobacco Control Statewide Strategic Plan 25 Program Plan Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco.2001Tobacco Control Program Strategic Plan 2002-2007 26 Program Plan Florida Department of Health. Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco. 2002. Florida Tobacco Control Program Operational Plan 2002-2003 27 Settlement Fla. 15th Cir. Ct. Palm Beach, FL. 1997. State of Florida et al. v. The Agreement American Tobacco Company et al. (Civil action No. 95-1466 AH.) 28 Settlement Fla. 15th Cir. Ct. Palm Beach, FL. 1998. State of Florida et al. v. The Amendment American Tobacco Company et al.: Stipulation of Amendment to Settlement Agreement and for Entry of Consent Decree (Civil action No. 95-1466 AH.) 29 Newspaper Americans for Nonsmoker's Rights Foundation. 1999. Will Governor Jeb Advertisement Bush Protect our children from Big Tobacco? Here's how you can hold him accountable. 30 State Statute State of Florida. 1998. Florida Statute 569.21 31 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2001. “Progress Report: October Report 2001.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 32 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2001. “Progress Report: Report November 2001.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 33 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2001. “Progress Report: Report December 2001.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 34 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2002. “Progress Report: January Report 2002.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 35 Monthly Evaluation Buehner, Timothy, and George W. Luke. 2002. “Progress Report: Report February 2002.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 36 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2002. “Progress Report: March Report 2002.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation

173 Coordinating Center. 37 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2002. “Progress Report: April Report 2002.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 38 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2002. “Progress Report: May Report 2002.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 39 Monthly Evaluation Buehner, Timothy, and George W. Luke. 2002. “Progress Report: Report October-November 2002.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 40 Monthly Evaluation Buehner, Timothy, and George W. Luke. 2002. “Progress Report: Report December 2002.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 41 Monthly Evaluation University of Miami Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Report Center. 2003. “Progress Report: January 2003.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 42 Monthly Evaluation Buehner, Timothy, and George W. Luke. 2003. “Progress Report: Report February 2003.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 43 Monthly Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2003. “Progress Report: March Report 2003.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 44 Annual Evaluation University of Miami Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Report Center. 2002. “Final Report: Internal Evaluation Development for the Florida Tobacco Control Program.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 45 Annual Evaluation Luke, George W., and Timothy Buehner. 2003. “Final Report: Internal Report Evaluation Development for the Florida Tobacco Control Program.” University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 46 External Evaluation Rogers, Todd. 2000. “Florida Tobacco Pilot Program: Recommendations Report from the External Evaluation Advisory Committee.”

47 External Evaluation Rogers, Todd. 2001. “Florida Tobacco Program: Recommendations from Report the External Evaluation Advisory Group.”

48 Videotaped JMS Communications: Florida Tobacco Pilot Program. Chuck Wolfe Presentation presentation 7/15/98 (VHS Videotape). 49 Evaluation Report University of South Florida: College of Public Health. 1998. “Summary Report of Governor’s Teen Summit on Tobacco Education: March 29— April 1, 1998. Grenelefe Resort, Haines City, Florida.” 50 Meeting Report Florida Kids Campaign Against Tobacco. 1997. “Forum Results, November 12, 1997” 51 PowerPoint Florida Department of Health, Office of Legislative Planning. 2002. Presentation (Presented at the October 11-13, 2002 SWAT BOD meeting in Daytona Beach, Florida). 52 Legislative Budget Florida Department of Health. Florida Tobacco Pilot Program. 2001. Request Division of Health Awareness and Tobacco Program Gains. 53 Evaluation Report Sly, David, Gary Heald, and Sarah Ray. 2000. Preventing Youth Smoking Behaviors: How Florida’s ‘truth’ Works. Florida State University. 54 Evaluation Report Stein, N., Trapido, E., Duncan, R., Rodriguez, R., and Mahadeo, M. 2000. Florida Youth Cohort Study. University of Miami Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center.

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55 Evaluation Report Lyons-Lepke, Elaine. 2000. Preliminary findings from the Community Leaders Study. Florida Research Institute. 56 Evaluation Report Sly, David and David Heald. 1999. Florida anti-tobacco media evaluation: one year assessment with national comparisons. University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center. 57 Evaluation Report Sly, David and David Heald. 2000. May 2000 FAME survey report. University of Miami, Tobacco Research and Evaluation Coordinating Center.

175 APPENDIX C. TIMELINE OF FTPP AND SWAT 1990-2003

Date Event 1990 June 1990. Facing a budget shortfall, the Florida Legislature raises tobacco excise taxes 9.9 cents to 33.9 cents per pack, after Governor Martinez originally proposes a 15 cent increase. This was the last successful attempt to increase it. 1991 November 1991. Legislation in the Florida House introduced toughening the enforcement of youth access restrictions and anticipating by four years federal rules that would force states to develop enforcement mechanisms. The bill fails. 1992 June 1992. Youth access enforcement legislation passes in Fla. making Fla. one of the toughest states on youth tobacco sales and possession. 1994 May 23, 1994. Mississippi becomes the first state to file suit against the Tobacco industry to recover the state’s share of Medicaid costs due to tobacco related diseases. May 26, 1994. The Medicaid Third Party Liability Act (MTPLA) signed by Gov. Chiles. This legislation makes it easier for the state to recover a claim against tobacco companies for the Medicaid costs of treating patients with tobacco related health problems by removing certain traditional product liability defenses, by allowing the state to use statistical methods of determining the class of plaintiffs and by allowing the introduction of evidence obtained through epidemiological study. June 30, 1994. MTPLA is Challenged in Court on Constitutional grounds by Phillip Morris, Publix Supermarkets, The National Association of Convenience Stores and Associated Industries of Florida. July 1, 1994. MTPLA takes effect as law 1995 February 21, 1995. Florida files $ 1.4 Billion suit against the tobacco industry to recover its share of tobacco related Medicaid expenses. The suit is immediately challenged by Philip Morris and RJ Reynolds (RJR) on the grounds that the state agencies bringing the suit lacked the legislative authority to do so. April 18, 1995. The Florida Supreme Ct. rejects challenge by Phillip Morris and RJR to the State's lawsuit, allowing it to proceed. May 6, 1995. Fla. Legislature repeals MTPLA June 15, 1995. Governor Chiles vetoes the repeal July 28, 1995. Fla. Supreme Ct. strikes down provisions in legislative budget that would have prevented the private lawyers in the tobacco case from being paid their cut from any settlement. December 20, 1995. Massachusetts AG files a Medicaid recovery type suit against the tobacco industry, becoming the third, after Mississippi and Florida, to do so. By 1997, 18 other states will have filed similar suits. December 31, 1995. Synar rule passes US Congress- Would withhold money to states that fail to enforce youth access restrictions. 1996 March 13, 1996. The Florida Legislature attempts to override the veto of their repeal of the MTPLA. The attempt fails by one vote March 13, 1996. Ligget, a Tobacco company, offers to settle the Castano Class Action and makes overtures to the states to settle the Medicaid recovery suits. This is the first offer to settle a product liability claim by a tobacco company in history widely considered the turning point in the state lawsuits, although Ligget controls only 2% of the market share for cigarettes. The offer occurred during a takeover bid by Ligget’s parent corporation for RJR, and was apparently motivated by strategic considerations. April 30, 1996. Associated Industries of Florida reportedly lobbies for an 18 cents per pack cigarette tax increase in exchange for the State dropping its suit against the tobacco

176

industry. The deal is rejected by the State. June 27, 1996. FL Supreme Ct upholds "key parts" of the 1994 Medicaid Third Party Liability Act, which had been challenged by pro-tobacco interests in 1994. 1997 January 9, 1997. FL's claim against the Tobacco industry expands into the area of punitive damages, as industry documents produced through discovery begin to reveal patterns of fraud and racketeering on the part of the industry to deceive the public about the health effects of tobacco use and to hide efforts to recruit children to become smokers. January 1997. Governor Chiles’ budget recommendation includes a 10 cent per pack increase which later failed. February 27, 1997. FL department of health releases a report claiming one in five deaths in FL are linked to smoking. March 20, 1997. Ligget settles with FL and 21 other states. The settlement includes the admission from Ligget that smoking is addictive and deadly and that tobacco companies have "long targeted teens as customers.” Ligget released during discovery to the plaintiff's attorneys thousands of industry documents implicating other tobacco companies in racketeering. This is the first time any tobacco company ever has paid damages in a product liability case. March 31, 1997. The FL House Governmental Rules and Regulations Committee again votes five to one to repeal the MTPLA. This is the beginning of the second attempt to repeal the law. This attempt died two weeks later after house leaders reportedly conceded they lacked the necessary votes to override another veto by Chiles. With the repeal effort dead settlement talks begin "in earnest.” May 29, 1997. Governor Chiles orders the divestment of FL's state retirement fund of tobacco stocks worth $650 million. August 6, 1997. After delays are exhausted, 8 documents from the Ligget group are released to the public after a finding by the court that the docs were not protected by attorney client privilege. The court found evidence of fraud. The plaintiff's lead attorney stated the documents reveal "a conspiracy to defraud the public" about the dangers of tobacco use. August 25, 1997. Florida settles its suit against the five major tobacco corporations for terms that will include $13 billion dollars in payments over 25 years. The settlement requires that a pilot program be developed aimed at reducing youth tobacco use Governor Lawton Chiles begins to assemble a team from executive staff including Chuck Wolfe and Peter Mitchell. September 1997. The Florida Legislature appropriates $23 million to develop a Tobacco Pilot Program. Wolfe immediately issues an ITN for a media campaign based on California’s “de-glamorization” strategy. Wolfe consults NCI officials and visits California in developing of the Florida model. He immediately begins issuing grants for local partnership development. Peter Mitchell is placed in charge of Marketing. Mae Waters is recruited from the Florida Department of Education to coordinate direct services including education. At this point the Florida program closely approximates the NCI ASSIST model in structure, but with an exclusively youth focus. 1998 January 1998. Crispin Porter & Bogusky (CP&B) wins the Pilot Program marketing contract. March 1998. The First Annual Teen Tobacco Summit is held. Six hundred teenagers from across the state gather to launch the “Truth” campaign and form Students Working Against Tobacco (SWAT). May 1998. The first wave of Truth ads begins to air. August 1998. The “Truth train” runs across the state, setting the tone for SWAT and Truth with its aggressive anti-tobacco industry tone. The ten day event generates substantial earned media. December 12, 1998. Governor Chiles does in office, three weeks from the end of his second term. 1999 January 1999. Governor John Ellis “Jeb” Bush inaugurated. The tobacco program is moved to the Florida Department of Health. Wolfe resigns, and Peter Mitchell becomes

177 acting director. January 1999. The Truth ad “Laugh Track” is broadcast during the Superbowl. The ad cost $2,200 to produce. By this time CP&B had produced twenty-six truth ads for television, at least fourteen of which used SWAT youth as actors. The campaign is generally perceived as low-tech, funny, edgy, and strongly identified with SWAT. March 16, 1999. During legislative appropriations negotiations, the Florida Legislature proposes zero funding for the Tobacco Pilot Program. House Speaker John Thrasher and Representative Debbie Sanderson publicly question the effectiveness of the program. April 16, 1999. Thirty to forty SWAT members stage an impromptu sit-in outside the office of Representative Debbie Sanderson in protest of proposed funding cuts. April 17, 1999. Peter Mitchell is fired. Both the Governor and Florida Department of Health officials deny his dismissal is related to the protest in any way. Mae Waters assumes temporary control of the program. Also on the same day survey results are released showing dramatic one-year drops in Florida’s youth smoking rates. June 1999. The Pilot Program’s staff is purged. Eleven of thirty-one headquarters employees are fired, including the eighteen year old Marketing Director for Truth. SWAT effectively loses control of the Truth Campaign. August 1999. Debbie Bodenstine is appointed director of a portion of the tobacco pilot program. But the Truth campaign is moved to the Florida Department of Health Office of Communications. Beginning in 1999. Inspired by the apparent success of the Florida Program, and with funds from the November 1998 Master Settlement, other states begin to develop “organized student advocacy” programs modeled on SWAT and Truth. Among them: Get Outraged (MA), REBEL (NJ), OK SWAT (OK), No Limits (NB), Target Market (MN), Reality Check (NY), JEL (IA), Reality (IL), GetReal (CO), Stand (OH), --and others. Beginning in 1999. Tobacco program documents begin referring to the sixty-seven member youth Board of Directors as the “SWAT BOD” rather then the “Florida tobacco Pilot Program BOD” as in earlier documents. 2000 March 2000. The third round of Florida Youth Tobacco Survey results are released showing a second successive year of sharp declines in youth smoking in the state. Data for this survey were collected in the spring of 1999, and therefore reflect pre-purge impacts. May 2000. The fiscal year 2000-2001 budget is finalized. The Pilot Program is cut twenty- five percentage from the previous year’s funding level. There is no public response from SWAT. August 2000. Turnover rates among field staff are such that only twenty-one of the sixty- seven (thirty-one percent) of the original, 1998, county tobacco coordinators are still with the program. Their replacements often have no direct knowledge of the program’s history or origin. November 2000. SWAT conducts a statewide advocacy campaign titled Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is spanning several weeks and culminating in a Jan 2001 press conference. The campaign is aimed at exposing the tobacco industry’s “good corporate citizen” efforts. Like other post-purge SWAT public campaigns, and in contrast to 1998 SWAT events, this campaign generates little media attention. 2001 March 2001. Primary data collection for this project: Twelve Focus Groups are conducted with SWAT members across Florida. June 13, 2001. Governor Bush authorizes reinvestment of the state’s pension fund in tobacco stocks, ending a Chiles Administration ban from 1997. Again, no response from SWAT. June 2001. CP&B wins the Media Lions Grand Prix at the international film festival in Cannes for their early work on the Florida Truth Campaign. October 2001. In a mid-year budget amendment, legislators cut an additional thirty-four percent from the Tobacco Pilot budget, citing a shortfall in general revenue for the state. No official response from SWAT, but the Campaign for Tobacco-Free Kids stages a protest on SWAT’s behalf. A handful of SWAT members participate.

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November 2001. Truth ad “Focus on the Positive” airs. Reportedly the ad costs $680,000 to produce, three hundred times the cost of “Laugh Track” in 1998. After 1999, no Truth ads feature actual SWAT youth. After this ad, Truth ads begin to employ health messages, rather than making direct attacks on the tobacco industry. Without meaningful SWAT input, the campaign remains funny, but no longer low-tech, edgy, or identified with a youth movement. 2002 July 2002. A coalition of health agencies, ACS, ALA, AHA and others, begins organizing toward a ballot initiative to be placed on the November 2003 general election. “Amendment 6” will ban most workplace smoking in Florida. CP&B does produce and air Truth ads with secondhand smoke messages, but SWAT is prohibited from formally endorsing or working in support of the initiative. November 2002. In a mid year budget amendment the legislature trims another twenty percent from the Tobacco Pilot. This time the rationale is a shortfall in tobacco settlement proceeds. No response from SWAT. 2003 Former House Speaker John Thrasher registers with the Florida Legislature as a lobbyist for the Lorillard Tobacco Co. May 22, 2003. The Florida Legislature finalizes its fiscal year 2003-2004 budget. After four years of steady funding cuts, the Tobacco Program is finally zeroed out. The Florida Department of Health eliminates most of the program’s nearly two hundred employees statewide, and using $1 million in Florida Department of Health discretionary funds, retains a staff of seven.

179 APPENDIX D. HUMAN SUBJECTS AND INFORMED CONSENT

Human subjects approval memorandum

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Sample informed consent form

Qualitative Evaluation of SWAT Involvement

PURPOSE The purpose of this project is to gain a better understanding of the functioning of Students Working Against Tobacco (SWAT) and Tobacco-Free Community Partnerships (TCP), as well as what it means to participate in SWAT. This goal will be achieved by conducting focus groups in five counties of Florida and among SWAT Board of Directors members. An analysis of the information collected in this study will be provided to the program and planning entities of the Florida Tobacco Pilot Program (FTPP) to be used to improve future program design and implementation.

ALTERNATIVE Participation in this study is voluntary.

PROCEDURE If you agree to participate in this study, you will participate in a focus group with your peers lasting approximately 90 minutes. This will be a group discussion about personal experiences of participating in SWA. All focus groups will be audio-recorded and transcribed.

CONFIDENTIALITY OF AUDIO RECORDED MATERIALS Your participation in this study is considered confidential. As such, the audio recording and subsequent transcripts will be treated in a confidential manner to protect the individuality and/or uniqueness of your verbal responses.

COSTS, RISKS & BENEFITS Your participation in this study will involve no expenses to you as a study participant. Your participation in this interview will present no known risk or be of any direct benefit to you, though it is anticipated that the information gained by this study will have a positive impact on future planning and implementation of SWAT activities.

OTHER PERTINENT FACTS

a) Dr. Buehner will be happy to answer any questions about your participation. b) Your participation in this study is voluntary. You may refuse to participate or withdraw from this study at any time with no adverse consequences. c) The investigator and his assistants will consider your records confidential to the extent permitted by law. However, in some circumstances, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) or the Department of Defense (DOD), or their designees may request copies of your records. If this happens, the above request will be honored. Your records may also be reviewed for audit purposes by authorized University of Miami employees or other agents who will be bound by the same provisions of confidentiality. d) You will receive a copy of this informed consent form for your own information. You may use this document for consultation with family members, other professionals, or friends before you consider signing. e) You will be informed of the outcome of the stud, upon its completion.

181 f) If injury occurs from participation in this study, treatment will be made available immediately. If you have insurance, your insurance company may or may not pay for these costs. If you do not have insurance, or if your insurance company refuses to pay, you will be expected to pay. Funds to compensate for pain, expenses, lost wages and other damages caused by injury are not routinely available. If you have any questions about your rights on this research study, you may call the Principal Investigator at (305)243-3012.

• I have received a copy of this informed consent, which I have read and understand. I hereby consent to be a participant. • I also consent to be audio-recorded for the purposes of this study. I understand that these audio recordings, and any written representation of these recordings, are confidential material and will not be used in any identifying manner without my further expressed written permission.

Date Participant

Principal Investigator: Timothy M. Buehner, Ph.D. Legal Guardian if Participant is Minor

Witness

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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

George Wheeler Luke received his A.A. degree from Tallahassee Community College; his B.S. in History and Sociology, and M.S. in Sociology are from Florida State University.

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