Latent Conflict in Urban Public Education

LATENT CONFLICT IN URBAN PUBLIC EDUCATION:

SILENT DOMINATION AND THE INSTITUTIONALIZATION OF

DISCRIMINATORY ORGANIZATIONAL FORMS

ARGUN SAATCIOGLU

Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements

For the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Dissertation adviser: Dr. Eric H. Neilsen

Department of Organizational Behavior

CASE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY

August, 2007 CASE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY

SCHOOL OF GRADUATE STUDIES

We hereby approve the dissertation of

______

candidate for the Ph.D. degree *.

(signed)______(chair of the committee)

______

(date) ______

*We also certify that written approval has been obtained for any proprietary material contained therein.

To my parents… TABLE OF CONTENTS

Table of Contents i

List of Tables iv

List of Figures v

Acknowledgements vii

Abstract x

Chapter 1: Introduction 1

Chapter 2: The Rise of Manifest Conflict around Segregated Public Education in 17 the United States 2.1. The Origins, the Logic, and the Aftermath of the Brown v. Board of Education Ruling 17 2.2. Political Opportunity Structure and the Process of School Desegregation in the Late 1950s and the Early 1960s 29 2.2.1. Opportunity structure and social change 29 2.2.2. The gradual expansion of the opportunity structure for manifest struggle regarding school desegregation and the eventual progress in the implementation of Brown 35 2.3. Educational Inequality in the North and the Contraction of Political Opportunity in the Late 1960s and Early 1970s 56 2.3.1. The logic of urban educational reform outside the South 61 2.3.2. Initial decline in the opportunity for manifest conflict around school desegregation 64 2.3.3. Stalemates in school desegregation in a time of declining political opportunity for manifest conflict 77 2.3.4. Closing the door on school desegregation 91

Chapter 3: The Progressive Value of Urban School Desegregation and the Rise of Latent Conflict around Segregated Public Education in the United States 105 3.1. School Desegregation in a Time of Rapid Urban Decline and Vanishing Opportunity for Manifest Conflict 105 3.2. Conceptualizing School Effectiveness 108 3.2.1. Contradictory logics in the conception of public schools 108 3.2.2. Urban public schools as “organizations of salvation” 115 3.3. Contemporary Concepts Regarding the Key Components of the Non-School Context and the Recent Findings on the Basic Educational Implications of These Components 120

3.4. A Conceptual Model of Public School Interaction with the Urban Non-School Context and the Implications of School Desegregation 127 3.4.1. Overview of a neo-ecological theory of the non-school context 128 3.4.2. Basic hypotheses 135 3.4.3. Dynamics concerning white children 156 3.5. Full-Fledged Latent Conflict around Segregated Schooling 161 3.5.1. The 1980s 164 3.5.2. The 1990s and beyond 182 3.6. The Function of Discourse in Rationalizing Unfair Inequality 220

Chapter 4: An Institutional View of the Latent Conflict around Segregated Public Education in the United States 224 4.1. The Relevance of the New Institutionalism in Organizational Sociology to Urban Educational Inequality 224 4.2. An Overview of the New Institutionalist Literature in Organizational Sociology 230 4.2.1. Early insights and basic weaknesses 230 4.2.2. Responses to criticisms and the process of theoretical maturation 238 4.2.3. Most recent developments 249 4.3. Broadening the Theoretical Reach of the New Institutionalism in Organizational Sociology 256 4.3.1. The “third face” of power and the study of latent conflict 257 4.3.2. Moving from the organizational field to the class level of analysis 268

Chapter 5: Data and Methods 283 5.1. Empirical Context: Unfair Educational Inequality in the City of Cleveland 283 5.1.1. A brief overview of the history of black children’s school and non-school problems in Cleveland 283 5.1.2. The expansion of the political opportunity structure in the mid-1960s 288 5.1.3. Renewed opportunity in the early 1970s 293 5.2. Data Sources and Analysis Techniques 305 5.2.1. Cleveland Municipal School District archives 305 5.2.2. Variables 308 5.2.3. Econometric modeling 312 5.2.2. Discourse data from the Cleveland Plain Dealer 322 5.2.3. A strategy for exploratory frame analysis 324

Chapter 6: Results 329 6.1. Econometric analysis: 1978-1998 330 6.2. Frame analysis on public discourse: 1993-1998 362

Chapter 7: Discussion and Conclusion 372 7.1. Contributions to theory and research 376 7.2. Contributions to policy 388

Tables 392

Figures 422

Appendices 447

References 504

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LIST OF TABLES

Table 5.1. Yearly Change in Population and Racial Composition of the Student Body: 1978-1998 393

Table 5.2. Keys/Cues Associated with Collective Action and Conservative Frames 394

Table 6.1. Yearly Means of Key Measures on Non-School Deprivation and Educational Inequality in CMSD by Race: 1978-1998 395

Table 6.2. Yearly Descriptives for Organizational Effectiveness of CMSD Schools by Race and School Type 397

Table 6.3. Results of Granger Causality Tests to Examine the Relationship of Cultural Capital with Economic and Social Capital within Selected Intervals 398

Table 6.4. Lagged Bivariate Correlations of Cultural Capital with Economic Capital and Social Capital in Selected Intervals 399

Table 6.5. First Stage Results of Yearly TSLS Models by School Type and Race: Predicting Family Disadvantage Based on Economic Capital and Social Capital—1978-1998 400

Table 6.6. Second Stage Results of Yearly TSLS Models by School Type and Race: Predicting School Effectiveness Based on Family Disadvantage— 1978-1998 411

Table 6.7. Results of Yearly Logit Analyses Predicting the Odds of Magnet School Enrollment in CMSD: 1981-1998 418

Table 6.8. Yearly Correlations of Frame Cues Pertaining to the “Neighborhood School” to Other Frame Cues: 1993-1998 421

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 2.1. Percentage of Southern Black Students in Majority-White Schools, 1954-2002 423

Figure 3.1. Changes in Components of Metropolitan Segregation by Region, 1970 to 2000 424

Figure 3.2. A Conceptual Model of the Interaction between Family-Transferred Non-School Disadvantages and Urban Public Schools 425

Figure 5.1. Racial and Poverty Concentration across Cleveland’s Neighborhoods in 2001 426

Figure 5.2. Population Pattern of Cleveland and Non-Cleveland Cuyahoga County: 1930-2000 427

Figure 5.3. Dispersion of School Buildings in CMSD: 1978-1998 428

Figure 5.4. Yearly Change in Population and Racial Composition of the Student Body: 1978-1998 429

Figure 5.5. Yearly Average Rate of Grade Promotion for All Grades by Race in CMSD: 1978-1998 430

Figure 5.6. Yearly Article and Editorial Counts Regarding CMSD from the Cleveland Plain Dealer: 1993-1998 431

Figure 6.1. Yearly Pattern of Means for Key Measures on Non-School Deprivation and Educational Inequality in CMSD by Race: 1978-1998 432

Figure 6.2. Yearly Pattern for Mean Organizational Effectiveness of CMSD Schools by Race and School Type: 1978-1993 434

Figure 6.3a. Lagged Bivariate Correlations of Cultural Capital with Economic and Social Capital: 1983←1979 435

Figure 6.3b. Lagged Bivariate Correlations of Cultural Capital with Economic and Social Capital: 1988←1984 436

Figure 6.3c. Lagged Bivariate Correlations of Cultural Capital with Economic and Social Capital: 1993←1989 437

Figure 6.3d. Lagged Bivariate Correlations of Cultural Capital with Economic and Social Capital: 1998←1994 438

Figure 6.4. The Yearly Effect of the Predicted Lack of Cultural Capital on the Organizational Effectiveness of CMSD Schools by Race: 1978-1998 439

Figure 6.5. Density and Geo-Spatial Dispersion of Lunch Subsidy at the Neighborhood Level in CMSD during Selected Years between 1978 and 1998 440

Figure 6.6. Density and Geo-Spatial Dispersion of Drug Violation Arrests at the Neighborhood Level in CMSD during Selected Years between 1978 and 1998 441

Figure 6.7. Density and Geo-Spatial Dispersion of Low Birth Weight at the Neighborhood Level in CMSD during Selected Years between 1978 and 1998 442

Figure 6.8. Density and Geo-Spatial Dispersion of Personal Crime at the Neighborhood Level in CMSD during Selected Years between 1978 and 1998 443

Figure 6.9. Yearly Pattern of Enrollment in Different School Types in CMSD: 1978-1998 444

Figure 6.10. The Yearly Effect of the Predicted Lack of Cultural Capital on the Organizational Effectiveness of CMSD Schools by School Type and Race 445

Figure 6.11. Yearly Counts of Interpretive Frames in the Content of the Cleveland Plain Dealer: 1993-1998 446

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank my dissertation advisor, Eric H. Neilsen, for his enduring

support in my intellectual development. He diligently taught me how to read social

systems and how to articulate my concern for justice and fairness. I could not have

finished my dissertation without Eric’s nurturing and encouragement. He is the best

advisor ever!

My research on public education started eight years ago as a study in

organizational sociology. I eventually branched out into the sociology of education and urban sociology. My advisors James C. Carl and Claudia J. Coulton were pivotal in this

interdisciplinary process. Jim painstakingly made an education scholar out of me.

Claudia guided me in the study of poverty. Thanks to them, I see things from a much

broader and meaningful perspective than ever before.

I also appreciate all the help and support from my remaining committee members,

Diana Bilimoria and Ron Fry. Their trust in me played an important role in keeping me

on track in times when I felt discouraged.

Special thanks to Jagdip Singh for teaching me “rigor” in research. Without his

pushing and his unyielding standards in empirical analysis, and, most importantly, his

friendship, I would not have many of the skills I have as a researcher today. Jagdip will

always be my role model for what a creative and thorough scholar should be like

regardless of the particular field. Eric P. Bettinger has also contributed to my

methodological skills. Some of the techniques I use in my dissertation would not have

been possible without his guidance. Thank you Eric!

vii

This has been a long journey for me. My parents, Fikret and Işıl Saatçioğlu, supported me in countless ways. Most importantly, it is their values and beliefs that I see manifested in my work. Their emphasis on justice and fairness has shaped my worldview. “Speaking your mind no matter what it takes” is my mom’s trait;

“committing to do so with reason and with rigor” is my dad’s. I continue to do my best to be like them. I would also like to thank the rest of my family—my grandparents, uncles, and cousins—for all their support and patience.

Every scholar needs others to bounce off ideas, confirm his hopes, and confront his fears. My gift in this regard has been my dear friend and my brother Gökçe Sargut.

When I talk to him, I am home and I am free. Gökçe’s curiosity and creativity are unrivaled sources of inspiration. He has also provided me with unending emotional and social support over the years. Thanks to his dad, Professor Selami Sargut, as well.

Another special source of support has been Elizabeth Park, who has always done her best not only to listen to me and scrutinize my thoughts, but also to be my best and closest friend in bad times. She shared some of my deepest frustrations as no one else ever has.

She may not know this, but a conversation we had a long time ago about public education was an important factor that stimulated me in doing what I do today.

I also would like to thank my dear friends Çağkan Sayın and Özlem Öğütveren who have sacrificed their own time on more than one occasion to help me out with data entry and making tables and figures. I deeply appreciate their patience and support.

Last but not least, very special thanks to Tolga Aydınlıyım and Burak Sade. Both have been reliable sources of comradery, warm friendship, and intellectual support.

viii

Tolga is the smartest guy I know; Burak is the most humble and full of life. My life in

Cleveland would have been bitter without them in the last few years.

Latent Conflict in Urban Public Education:

Silent Domination and the Institutionalization of Discriminatory Organizational Forms

Abstract

ARGUN SAATCIOGLU

Why is there no controversy concerning inequality in urban education?

Segregation and entrenched non-school problems (poverty, neighborhood deterioration,

and family dissolution) in urban districts are key drivers of inequality in a society that

views public education as the “great equalizer.” The problem is the failure of the

predominantly white affluent to sacrifice their privileges, which has subverted the

interests of poor black children, resulting in latent conflict.

Urban school desegregation was aimed at equalizing education by replacing the

“neighborhood school” with the “integrated school.” It failed because it was banned from expanding into the suburbs and was undermined by worsening non-school problems. However, desegregation must be evaluated in terms of the effectiveness of the schools to counteract non-school problems. To this end, a model and several hypotheses, drawing upon the sociology of education and the neo-ecological approach to poverty, are

proposed.

School desegregation also offers a chance to extend organizational neo-

institutionalism. This theory emphasizes manifest conflict in the examination of the

politics of organizational legitimacy. However, the prevailing legitimacy of the

“neighborhood school” indicates latent conflict. It is hypothesized that neighborhood

schools were re-institutionalized in the 1990s due to restricted opportunity for manifest

conflict and were legitimated through a discourse cloaking the nature of inequality.

Hypotheses were tested on data from the Cleveland Municipal School District

(CMSD), which implemented desegregation between 1979 and 1993, re-segregating

between 1994 and 1998. Yearly records for 305,706 students were available. Also,

1,557 articles on schools from the Cleveland Plain Dealer (CPD) between 1993 and 1998

were collected to examine the discourse. CMSD archives were used for econometric

analysis. CPD content was used for frame analysis.

As hypothesized, desegregation made the schools more effective in counteracting

the non-school problems of blacks, while whites were largely unharmed. The policy

failed only when non-school deprivation reached extreme levels in the late 1980s.

However, instead of expanding desegregation into the suburbs and addressing non-school

problems, CMSD was allowed to re-segregate. The discourse in the 1990s justified

inequality by emphasizing individual initiative in educational success, along with several

inconsequential reforms. Eventually, segregated neighborhood schools became a taken-

for-granted organizational form.

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

This dissertation addresses the question of “Why there is no open controversy

concerning unfair inequality in urban public education?” The question is driven by two

important assumptions. First, there is inequality in urban public education and it is

unfair. Second, there should be open controversy about the problem, but such

controversy is absent. Despite decades of reform, both at the local and national levels,

urban schools, serving predominantly poor and minority students, continue to fail in their

efforts to help most of their students succeed at the same levels that predominantly white

affluent students tend to do. After notable reductions in the 1970s and 1980s, the racial

achievement gap began to widen again in the 1990s (Lee 2002). And, it appears to be

growing even wider as the first decade of the 21st century is coming to a close (Anyon

2005).

Deprived urban students suffer from increasing inequities in schooling (Kozol

2005) and, at the same time, endure entrenched non-school problems, such as low income, disorganized neighborhoods, and most importantly deficient family structure and processes, all of which have dire educational consequences (Conley and Albright 2004;

Rothstein 2004). The nature and extent of contemporary urban educational inequality in the U.S. is unfair not only because it sharply contradicts the cherished notion of the public schools as the “great equalizer,” but also because the U.S. has lost considerable ground in the last two decades in its efforts to undo racially “separate and unequal” education in large metropolitan areas. Both problems are major factors underlying the

prevailing achievement gap (Jencks and Philips 1998). Urban schools fall short in their

goals to level the playing field in a society that places particular emphasis on the role of

public education to help maintain equality of opportunity in individual success and

happiness (Hochschild and Skovronick 2003).

Much of the progress in narrowing the achievement gap in the 1970s and 1980s

had to do with the urban school desegregation effort. This was an effort whose ideals the

majority of Americans had consistently agreed with (Orfield 1978; Orfield and Eaton

1996), but failed to support in practice largely because desegregation ran afoul of the

pattern of social class privilege in public education (Hochschild 1984; Hochschild and

Skovronick 2003). In a system where the class composition of a community, which is

often intertwined with the racial composition of that community, over-determines the

quality and success of the local schools (Lippman, Burns, and McArthur 1996),

desegregation intended to minimize the disparities concerning both the tangible and

intangible aspects of the schools. The objective was to have students with different

backgrounds attend schools that were equal not only in tangible terms (e.g., funds,

facilities, and supplies), but also in intangible terms (e.g., peer composition and degree of

parental and community involvement). It is, thus, unsurprising that the greatest

reductions in the racial achievement gap occurred during the urban school desegregation

era. Although non-school problems in urban areas were allowed to worsen in the 1970s

and 1980s, replacing segregated neighborhood schools with integrated ones during that

period helped public education become more effective as the great equalizer.

It is also unsurprising for the achievement gap to begin to widen again in the

1990s, as many urban districts re-segregated and the separate and unequal neighborhood

schools were re-established. Despite an invigorating public discourse that has

emphasized the virtues of segregated neighborhood schools, standards and accountability

in education, rigorous testing and evaluation of students and schools, parental choice, school improvement, governance reform, teacher training and credentials, funding equity, pedagogical and curricular initiatives, and a variety of compensatory programs, education has either stagnated or further deteriorated in many urban districts throughout the 1990s

and beyond.

While urban education and the related reforms continue to be hotly debated, the

debates have been hardly as controversial as they were in the 1960s, 1970s, and part of

the 1980s. This is because the debates have tended to focus on topics much less

threatening to the basic pattern of class privilege in public education than before. Every

aspect of educational inequality is discussed except for the two “elephants in the room,”

namely the separate and unequal neighborhood schools and the entrenched non-school

problems in urban districts. Though the latter issue has rarely been addressed as part of

education policy and research in the U.S. (Albright and Conley 2004), the concept of the

neighborhood school was fiercely contested just a few decades earlier; and undoing that

concept regardless of the worsening non-school problems was instrumental in narrowing the achievement gap. So, why re-establish segregated neighborhood schools? Why are these schools currently uncontested? Why are they taken for granted, despite the ways in which they fail to help disadvantaged minority students overcome the difficulties in their non-school lives and succeed? Why, in essence, are the prevailing debates so uncontroversial compared to earlier decades?

The main argument of this dissertation is that the uncontestedness of segregated

neighborhood schools in urban districts has primarily had to do with latent conflict in the

American class hierarchy—latent conflict between the predominantly black urban poor and the predominantly white suburban affluent. The same dynamic has prevented adequate discussions and remedies concerning non-school deprivation in urban areas as well. The latent nature of the conflict is due primarily to the restriction of the opportunity

structure to voice the educational interests of the urban poor. Opportunity structure has

to do with the opening and closing of the “political space” to express collective

grievances and associated demands (Gamson and Meyer 1996). While several factors

provided considerable opportunity for poor blacks to challenge unfair educational

inequality in the late 1960s, 1970s, and early 1980s, that opportunity was gradually

restricted in the years that followed. The restriction of the opportunity structure was a

consequence of the agency—that is, the actions, inactions, and choices—of the dominant

group in American race relations, namely the predominantly white affluent. Simply put,

the constraints on the capacity of poor blacks to voice their interests have rendered latent

a conflict of interests that was manifest in earlier decades.

The restriction of opportunity for manifest conflict has helped segregated neighborhood schools become an uncontested institution—a discriminatory social practice reproduced without challenge. While harmful to the educational prospects and the broader life chances of many poor black students, the concept of the neighborhood

school protects the interests of the predominantly white affluent students because it is

central in perpetuating the basic pattern of class privilege in American public education.

In the late 1960s and the 1970s, contesting the legitimacy of segregated neighborhood

schools was instrumental in addressing unfair educational inequality in urban districts

and demanding proper remedies. These efforts not only brought about racially integrated

and equal schools in many urban areas, but were also part of a greater movement to

attack non-school problems by means of broad economic and social initiatives, such as

the War on Poverty. In the absence adequate opportunity to contest the legitimacy of the

neighborhood schools, worsening non-school problems have also remained uncontested.

In a sense, the difficulties in addressing the ill effects of neighborhood schools have made

it even harder to address the more serious problem of significant disparities outside the

schools that affect education. From the early 1990s and onward, the public discourse

concerning urban education has ignored the key sources of inequality and has promoted

assumptions and beliefs that cloak the true nature of the situation, portraying inequality as

largely fair rather than unfair. In other words, latent conflict has been characterized by

the predominance of a false discourse.

The dissertation makes a number of contributions to both theory and policy. First,

it views the failure of urban school desegregation as a case of latent conflict in American

public education. Desegregation scholars have typically focused on the educational,

demographic, and social outcomes of school desegregation, or the pros and cons of

various implementation strategies (e.g., Prager, Longshore, and Seaman 1986; Rossell,

Armor, and Walberg 2002; Mickelson 2003). To date, no study has treated the

disappearance of school desegregation from the public and policy scene as a sign of

latent conflict in the class hierarchy. In this regard, this study is primarily a study of

power, specifically the role of preventative power in the maintenance of undue

educational privilege in the class hierarchy.

The power perspective has several implications for the study of desegregation

outcomes as well. Studies of desegregation outcomes, traditional and contemporary

alike, typically fail to account for the fact that most urban desegregation programs were

implemented under conditions of vanishing political opportunity for continued manifest

conflict and, more importantly, worsening non-school problems. As such, desegregation should be viewed as an inherently limited attempt at equalizing education, one whose scale and scope was severely constrained by class dynamics at the outset. In particular,

most desegregation programs were doomed to fail, at least in terms of their official

proclamations, because such programs were rarely allowed to extend beyond the

boundaries of deprived urban districts into suburban areas where the majority of the

affluent resided. In a period of intense suburbanization by the affluent, urban

desegregation had little chance to succeed at meaningful levels, a limitation that played a

key role in diminishing the opportunity to contest the legitimacy of segregated

neighborhood schools and voice the educational interests of poor minorities.

More importantly, the growing non-school problems in urban districts in the

1970s and 1980s were potential factors that undermined the academic performance of

students in integrated schools. Therefore, although the achievement gap did narrow

during the desegregation era, minority students continued to perform more poorly than

their predominantly white affluent counterparts. This was most likely because of

material poverty, racial isolation and social deterioration of urban neighborhoods, and

adverse family structure and processes that impaired students’ success regardless of

radical intervention in the structure and quality of the schools.

In light of these considerations, this dissertation makes two important

contributions to the literature on desegregation outcomes as well as on the broader

literature on urban education. One of these contributions is that educational success is

conceptualized and operationalized as the organizational effectiveness of the school in

helping the student succeed, rather than the individual effectiveness of the student. While

the two are intrinsically related, the former approach is more consistent with the notion of

the public schools as great equalizers in America. Public schools are commonly treated

as organizational vehicles to counteract social class disadvantage of deprived children

outside the schools and level the playing field by helping those children succeed.

Besides, urban school desegregation was an effort to improve the quality and equity of

the schools, not an attempt to change the students or the basic parameters of the non-

school context.

Another, related contribution of this dissertation is its conception of the non-

school context. Drawing on key insights from the sociology of education and urban

sociology, particularly the neo-ecological approach to poverty (Wilson 1978, 1987, 1996;

Massey and Denton 1993; Jargowsky 1997), the non-school context is defined in terms

the lack of economic capital (income and wealth), social capital (neighborhood quality),

and cultural capital (parental effectiveness). The neo-ecologists have argued that the lack

of economic and social capital has undermined the cultural capital available to poor black

children in the postwar decades, with adverse consequences for education and human

development. However, neither the sociology of education nor the research on school

desegregation has taken this insight seriously. Therefore, a model is proposed that

elaborates on the how public schools interact with the systemic problems poor children

face outside the school. Ideally, the great equalizer notion implies that the worse the non-

school problems, the more effective the public school needs to be. While this is rarely

the case in urban districts, the proposed model argues that integrated schools during the

1970s and 1980s were more effective as great equalizers than segregated neighborhood schools were in counteracting non-school problems and facilitating student success. This was because of the ways in which school desegregation fostered tangible and intangible inequities across the schools. Thus, desegregation is evaluated in terms of the changes it

brought about concerning the relationship between the schools and the non-school

context. It is likely that improvement in school effectiveness was a key factor in helping

to narrow the achievement gap in a time of worsening non-school problems. The

proposed model and associated hypotheses are tested across races as well as school types,

such as regular public schools versus choice schools (e.g., magnet schools).

Finally, this dissertation makes an important contribution to the sociology of

organizations, particularly the neo-institutional theory of organizations (Meyer and

Rowan 1977; Zucker 1977; DiMaggio and Powell 1983; Scott 1995, 2001). Neo-

institutionalists view the legitimacy or the cognitive “taken-for-grantedness” of

organizational forms as essential for organizational survival. In its early years, the theory

was criticized for failing to explain power, conflict, and politics in the process of

legitimacy. If all actors took a particular organizational form for granted, then where did

institutions come from, how did they change, and how did they disappear under various

circumstances? Neo-institutionalists have responded to criticisms by focusing on

manifest conflicts affecting the creation, transformation, and destruction of various

organizational forms and practices. In much of this effort, scholars went along with their

critics’ contention that the notion of taken for grantedness was an inherently apolitical

notion. This is not necessarily true. Politics may involve reinforcing the legitimacy of an

organizational form that would otherwise be contested, such as the segregated neighborhood school. In other words, the uncontestedness of a discriminatory practice and the lack of an open struggle to replace that practice may be the ultimate sign of politics. The study extends the neo-institutional approach to organizations by incorporating the notion of latent conflict to explain the prevalence of the neighborhood school concept as an organizational form. While this concept was fiercely contested in the late 1960s, 1970s, and early 1980s, the restriction on the opportunity for manifest conflict has helped it regain its legitimacy and become a deeply taken for granted organizational form despite its inherently discriminatory effects. It is hypothesized that the false public discourse in the 1990s and beyond, has fostered conservative perceptions that reinforce the uncontestedness of the neighborhood school in American public education.

The first three chapters that follow provide the conceptual framework for the dissertation as well as the hypotheses that are tested. Chapter 2 sets the basic theoretical and historical grounds for a view of school desegregation in the U.S. with particular emphasis on the evolution of the relevant opportunity structure for manifest conflict.

Defining opportunity structure based on the studies of prominent social movement scholars (e.g., Tarrow 1994; Gamson and Meyer 1996), the discussion elaborates on the ways in which the opportunity for contesting unfair educational inequality expanded in the 1950s and much of the 1960s. The role of federal involvement and affluent white support for racial equality, not just in schooling but in several domains, was pivotal in the

expansion of opportunity, particularly in the rural South. However, the opportunity

declined in the late 1960s and early 1970s as the effort concentrated on the wellbeing of

poor blacks in metropolitan areas of the North and the West. The decline in the support

from the federal government, particularly from the legislative and executive branches, as

well as the intensifying resistance from the predominantly white affluent were critical in

restricting the degree of opportunity. Following the Supreme Court’s 1974 Milliken

ruling that excluded the suburban school systems from most urban desegregation plans,

the opportunity structure for open discussion of the controversy gradually vanished.

Given the ongoing suburbanization of the affluent, urban desegregation had an inherent

“expiration” date not only as a policy that violated the pattern of class privilege in

American public education, but as a political issue that warranted intense discussion.

Chapter 3 explains the conceptual model for evaluating the success of school

desegregation in a context of limited opportunity and worsening non-school problems.

First, it draws on basic insights from organization theory and the social and philosophical

foundations of education to clarify the view of public schools as organizations of

salvation for the poor in America. Defining schools as great equalizers is critical in

understanding the change desegregation brought about in the organizational effectiveness

of the urban schools to counteract non-school problems and facilitate student success.

The discussion continues with an overview of the sociology of education and the neo-

ecological literature on urban poverty to describe the nature of non-school deprivation.

Specifically, it is argued that the lack of economic capital and social capital (resulting

from increased joblessness and racial isolation) has undermined the cultural capital (due

to the erosion of the double-parent, stable income family) in the postwar urban ecology.

The proposed model specifies the relationship of this non-school dynamic to school

effectiveness, both for poor blacks and poor whites in urban areas during the school

desegregation era.

The chapter also discusses the fundamental changes that transpired in urban

public education starting in the late 1980s and early 1990s. This was the period of return

to full-fledged latent conflict. The re-institutionalization of segregated neighborhood

schools in urban districts was inevitable given the constitutional and demographic

constraints imposed on desegregation at the outset. However, resegregation was also

accompanied by a discourse that cloaked the unfair nature of inequality, a discourse that

has emphasized the role individual and parental initiative in academic success, the

promise of school choice programs such as magnet schools, charter schools, and private

school vouchers, and the necessity of governance reforms and organizational

improvement strategies for the schools. The ultimate function of this discourse has been

twofold: (1) to rationalize separate and unequal education, and (2) to ignore the enduring

non-school problems affecting poor black, and in recent years, Hispanic students in urban

areas.

Chapter 4 puts the school desegregation experience in the U.S. in the context of

organizational sociology, particularly the neo-institutional theory of organizations. It

reviews the neo-institutional literature, summarizing how empirical studies on this topic

since the early 1990s have responded to earlier criticisms of institutionalism for failing to

account for power, conflict, and politics in the organizational environment. Then, it

broadens the theoretical reach of neo-institutionalism by emphasizing the importance of

the relationship between latent conflict and organizational legitimacy. Two perspectives

are instrumental in this regard. One is Steven Lukes’ (1974) view of power where a

dominant group exercises power over a subordinate one by affecting what the latter can

demand. The role of opportunity and false discourse are critical in this process. Radical

interests can be subverted by limiting the opportunity for open contention and promoting

a discourse that fosters beliefs and assumptions that do not reflect the real interests of the

subordinate group. Therefore, power can be exercised and various practices can be perpetuated without any manifest conflict at all. Unless neo-institutionalism incorporates

such a view of power, it runs the risk of mistaking occasions of latent conflict as genuine

consensus. Thus, the fact that an inherently discriminatory organizational form remains

taken for granted may be the ultimate sign of politics and power. Lukes’ work provides a

set of guidelines for a rigorous empirical study of organizational institutionalization in

occasions of latent conflict.

The second perspective that is instrumental in extending neo-institutionalism in

light of the notion of latent conflict is social movement scholars’ concept of interpretive

frame. A frame is a cognitive template that selects certain aspects of reality and de-

selects or ignores other ones in perceptual processes. In Goffman’s (1974) terms, frames

define “what is going on” (and “what is not going on”) in a situation. Social movement

scholars have used frames to define and measure basic discourses regarding social

inequality. The ordinary discourse is comprised of justice (“the system is fair”),

conformity (“comply to the status quo”), and commonality (“we are all the same”)

frames. The critical discourse, on the other hand, is comprised by injustice (“the system

is unfair”), agency (“change is necessary and possible”), and identity (“us v. them”)

frames. Neo-institutional research would benefit greatly from this discourse typology in

explaining the cognitive legitimacy of discriminatory organizational forms in times of

latent conflict. Chapter 4 offers the hypothesis that, starting in the early 1990s, frames

associated with the ordinary discourse dominated over those associated with the critical

discourse concerning urban public education. The ordinary discourse, highlighting

justice, conformity, and commonality frames constituted a false discourse that has helped

legitimize the concept of the neighborhood school in American public education.

The rest of the dissertation is largely an empirical case study to test the

hypotheses. The data come from the Cleveland Municipal School District (CMSD).

Chapter 5 starts out by describing the current state of education and the non-school

context at CMSD. It then provides an historical overview of school desegregation in

Cleveland, dating back to the early 1960s. The study focuses on the experience with the

Reed v. Rhodes case where CMSD was found guilty of intentional discrimination against

minority students in 1976, when the district was about 60 percent minority and 40 percent

white. Neighborhood schools were replaced with integrated ones by means of forced

busing within city boundaries staring in 1978. The schools remained integrated

throughout the 1980s and early 1990s as CMSD experienced more intense levels of non-

school deprivation than ever before, in the form of material poverty, racial isolation, and

family dissolution. By the late 1980s, CMSD had become over 80 percent minority and

irrevocably poor. Starting in 1993, the district re-segregated and returned to

neighborhood schools along with a number of new initiatives. Magnet schools were a

key component of reform. In 1998, CMSD was completely segregated and was declared

“unitary” (i.e., non-discriminatory).

The hypotheses regarding latent conflict were tested on a uniquely large

longitudinal data set on CSMD. The district’s archives provided detailed yearly

information on each K-12 student from 1978 to 1998. The variables included personal

demographics, academic attainment, socioeconomic background, family structure,

residential location, and school effectiveness. Those data was combined with census tract

data concerning the social wellbeing of all neighborhoods in CMSD between 1978 and

1998. The census tract data included a variety of crime, welfare, and vital life statistics

obtained from the CANDO database provided by the Center on Urban Poverty and Social

Change at Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio. There were a total of

1,578, 352 yearly records belonging to 305,706 students (kindergarteners were excluded).

In addition to these archives, the study drew on public discourse data obtained from the Cleveland Plain Dealer (CPD), a local mass circulation newspaper. All news stories and editorials from CPD between 1993 and 1998 pertaining to the topics of

“school” and “school desegregation,” based on the Cleveland News Index published by the Cleveland Public Library, were collected and digitized for discourse analysis to determine whether the ordinary discourse on inequality gained salience in the 1990s as

CMSD re-segregated. A total of 1,557 news pieces were identified.

Chapter 5 also discusses the approach and the techniques used for data analysis.

The archival data were used for rigorous econometric modeling. School effectiveness

(the extent to which the school helps the student succeed), was determined by means of a fixed-effects regression model, fitted by race and by school type. This measure was then regressed on non-school variables by means of a two-stage least squares (TSLS) model, which was also fitted by race and by school type. Various exogeneity issues were tested

by means of lagged correlations as well as the Granger test, a classic vector auto-

regression procedure. The discourse data was subjected to frame analysis techniques

developed by social movement scholars, based largely on Goffman’s (1974) work. To

ensure a high level of analytical reliability, three different coders were used to identify

and count interpretive frames in public discourse. Frame counts were then mapped

across years to determine the discursive pattern in CMSD during the 1990s.

Chapter 6 provides the results of the analysis. The hypotheses were strongly

supported. In particular, the results indicated that desegregation, even under

circumstances of worsening non-school conditions, increased the effectiveness of the

average CMSD school, both across races and school types. Although the integrated

schools were never able to counteract non-school problems of minorities at expected

levels, their performance was much less sensitive to non-school problems than was the

performance of neighborhood schools. Desegregation became a moot policy only when

the extent of non-school problems in CMSD reached extreme levels by the end of the

1980s. However, instead of extending the scope of desegregation to the suburbs and

attacking non-school problems, CMSD re-segregated, as did many other districts at the

time. Separate and unequal neighborhood schools were much more vulnerable to non-

school problems in the 1990s. The average school systematically magnified rather than

counteracted the disadvantage of the typical minority student. School choice, in the form

of magnet schools, was more effective than regular schools, but it served only the

upwardly mobile segment among the poor minorities (about 12 percent). As expected,

the public discourse turned increasingly conservative and cloaked the unfair nature of

inequality in CMSD.

Chapter 7, the conclusion chapter, summarizes the key argument of the

dissertation and discusses the basic insights from the analysis. Implications for both

theory and policy are highlighted. In particular, desegregation must be viewed as a case

of the rise and fall of manifest conflict around undue educational privilege in the class hierarchy. Its outcomes must be evaluated with specific reference to the fact that it was

implemented under conditions of limited opportunity for manifest conflict and worsening

non-school problems. The re-institutionalization of discriminatory neighborhood schools

without much controversy signals latent conflict, which is a process that helps extend the

neo-institutional theory of organizations. As far as policy implications are concerned,

the chapter notes that desegregation was and still is a progressive policy but cannot and

should not be pursued without adequate discussion of non-school problems in urban

areas. These problems must be attacked while integration is pursued. That, after all, was

the vision of reformers in the late 1960s. The problem was never resolved, but the

dominant discourse has covered up for the national retreat from equality in recent

decades.

CHAPTER 2

THE RISE OF MANIFEST CONFLICT AROUND SEGREGATED PUBLIC

EDUCATION IN THE UNITED STATES

2.1. THE ORIGINS, THE LOGIC, AND THE AFTERMATH OF THE BROWN V.

BOARD OF EDUCATION RULING

The issue of segregated schools has been at the center of the modern struggle against racial inequality in the U.S. In the decades leading up to the Supreme Court’s landmark Brown ruling in 1954 against segregated schools, many civil rights activists had considered unfair racial disparities in education not only a fundamental obstacle to the upward mobility and political autonomy of blacks, but also a uniquely provocative issue given the distinctive American ideal on egalitarian public schooling as a means to maintain fairness in the broader class hierarchy (Patterson 2001). The controversy over educational discrimination could therefore easily be used as a leverage to challenge the system of racial caste in all of American society.

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), the civil rights organization that has traditionally led the legal fight against racial discrimination, was amassing data as early as the late 1920s to show the appallingly inadequate status of black schools, particularly in the South, where segregation was de jure, meaning it was enforced by law (Kluge 1976). The goal was to show that many states and local school districts violated the ‘separate but equal’ doctrine established by the Supreme Court’s 1896 ruling in the Plessy v. Ferguson case.1 Despite upholding

1 In that case, the plaintiff, Homer A. Plessy, who was seven-eighths white and one-eighth black, had sued the East Louisiana Railroad Company for maintaining racially separate train cars. Although the eventual

17 segregation, the Court had emphasized in Plessy that, the federal government, the States, and other governmental bodies had an obligation under the 14th Amendment of the U.S.

constitution to ensure that separate public facilities were indeed equal. Therefore, in some of the early challenges to racial inequality in education, the NAACP tended to embrace rather than oppose Plessy as a means to improve the education of blacks

(Williams 1987).

It was not until 1950 that the underlying goal of an all out attack on segregation

became fully explicit in the strategy of the NAACP.2 In order to argue against “separate but equal,” the NAACP had to prove that the consequences of segregation—financial, intellectual, and psychological—precluded equality. It was also important to select cases from a broad range of locations and circumstances to sustain the unity of voice among the majority of blacks and to ensure that the question of separate schooling was not perceived as a solely Southern problem.

Supreme Court ruling directly dealt with railroad coaches and not schools, the Court noted that the Jim Crow law in question was no more ”unreasonable or more obnoxious” than the acts of Congress establishing separate schools for colored children or similar acts of other state legislatures. Specifically, the opinion noted that the most common instance of racial segregation was “connected with the establishment of separate schools for white and colored children, which has been held to be a valid exercise of legislative power even by courts of States where the political rights of the colored race have been longest and most earnestly enforced.” (quoted in Raffel 1998:199). Thus, the Court forever linked this transportation case with the broader area of schools and education. 2 There are three important reasons why it took over two decades for integration to become an explicit goal for the NAACP. First, the number of well-educated and experienced black civil rights lawyers had to reach a certain threshold. Charles H. Houston (1895-1950), the Harvard-trained black lawyer who was the first black elected to the editorial board of the Harvard Law Review and who later became the vice dean of Howard University’s law school, played a pivotal role in that process. Of the two dozen lawyers working for the NAACP when the Brown case was being argued in the Supreme Court, only two had not been Houston’s students (Williams 1987). The second important factor in the evolution of the NAACP’s approach had to do with the need to gradually establish favorable legal precedents regarding racial discrimination in education. Most such precedents came from successful court cases in the 1930s concerning the exclusion of blacks in higher education (Kluger 1976). The third reason for the gradual approach was a keen awareness that a thorough challenge to segregation early on would make success less likely and thus curb the growing momentum for the civil rights process (Harris 1960).

For this purpose five cases were consolidated into one, namely the Brown case,

between 1949 and 1952.3 The first one, Bolling v. Sharpe, was filed in 1950 on behalf of a group of mostly poor, black parents from Washington, D.C., whose children attended relay classes because black schools were severely overcrowded, while nearby white schools remained under-capacity. In a similar case, Belton (Bulah) v. Gebhart, filed in

1951, a group of Delaware parents sued the state for the inequitable conditions of the black schools. Plaintiffs in both Bolling and Belton had asked that their children be admitted to nearby white schools in order to get a better education, schools which turned their children away on the basis of race. The academic and intellectual damage of financial disparities that were characteristic of segregated schooling was further demonstrated by a third case, Briggs v. Elliot, filed in 1949 on behalf of black parents in

Clarendon County, South Carolina. The plaintiffs had originally asked the county to provide school buses for their children who had to travel significant distances to attend

all-black schools, but their demand was declined. This case was unique in the sense that not only were specific statistics on unfair school funding available, but the NAACP also had data on the condition of the black schools in Clarendon from nearly 20 years earlier when the organization had first started to document the extent of school inequality in the

South.4 Thus, it was possible to make a particularly robust argument.

Most importantly, however, the NAACP chose the Briggs case to demonstrate the psychological damage of segregation. The organization’s lawyers summoned the

3 These cases are reviewed briefly here. For further detail, see Kluger (1976). 4 For instance, although there were three times as many black students as white students in Clarendon County in 1949, white students received more than 60 percent of the educational funds. The per capita spending for white students was $179 per year; for black students, $43. The net worth of the three black schools for 808 children was one-fourth the value of the two schools that housed 276 white children. There was also one teacher for every 28 white students, while one teacher was available for every 47 black students. Not much had changed since the NAACP officials had visited this school system in the early 1930s.

expertise of the black psychologist Kenneth Clark, who conducted his infamous “doll

test” on a sample of black students in Clarendon. Clark had originally conducted this test

in the 1940s in Washington, D.C. and New York City, where he asked black children to pick the “good” doll between a black and a white doll and to describe their reasoning as

best they could. Most black children picked the white doll, saying that the black one looked “bad,” “naughty,” “ugly” and so on. Clark then asked the black children which of the two dolls looked most like them. Many of the children became emotionally upset when they had to identify with the doll they had rejected, indicating that they saw themselves as inferior and accepted the inferiority as part of their reality. The results in

Clarendon matched those from Northern areas as well as from other Southern locations.

Clark argued that

Segregation was, is, the way in which a society tells a group of human beings that they are inferior to other groups of human beings in society. It really is internalized in children, learning they cannot go to the same schools as other children, that they are required to attend clearly inferior schools than others are permitted to attend. It influences the child’s view of himself. (quoted in Williams 1987, p. 20-1)

The results of the doll test from Clarendon County would be the first time that the

Supreme Court would ever admit social science studies as hard evidence. The fourth

case, Davis v. Prince Edward County, was, like Briggs, a Southern one. The NAACP filed the case in 1951 on behalf of black parents from Farmville, Virginia, who had originally sought better educational facilities for their children, but later agreed with the

NAACP attorneys to demand not just mere equalization, but the full integration of the schools. This case had a distinctly grassroots origin since the black high school students in Farmville had taken their own stand in the matter and had consistently boycotted the schools prior to the case.

Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas was chosen as the lead case for a

variety of reasons. First and foremost, it properly conveyed the non-Southern

pervasiveness of the segregation problem. Second, it involved an affluent black family

who lived in the catchment zone of a white public school, but whose daughter, Linda

Brown, was forced to attend an inferior black school located at a significant distance.

Although Linda played and associated with several white friends in her neighborhood,

she had to leave them every morning, walk across the railroad tracks and take a rickety

bus ride to a separate, all-black school. The NAACP wanted to use this case to reinforce

the point about the psychological injuries of segregation. The case also illustrated the

contradiction between the socioeconomic status and the racial status of the Brown family,

which, given its residential location, could easily secure quality public education for their

daughter were it not for the practice of segregation. As another affluent black Topeka

parent put it at the time: “We pay taxes here too. We are citizens here. Of course, the

school board feels they are giving us, you know, the old ‘separate but equal’ thing, which

is really ‘unequal’” (quoted in Mondale and Patton 2001, p. 13).

The diversity of cases consolidated under Brown thoroughly demonstrated the

unfair consequences of “separate but equal,” both for Southern and Northern blacks and

for affluent and poor ones. In addition, the group of cases allowed the gradations of

attitudes among blacks regarding racial discrimination in education to be aired. Not all

blacks categorically supported the goal of integration. For many, meaningful

improvement in the quality of their children’s education was more important than

integration with white children. As, Vivian Scales, a plaintiff in Brown, maintained

It wasn’t that we wanted our children to go to school with white children. That was not the gist of it all. We wanted our children to have a better and

equal education, which we knew that we were not getting.” (quoted in Mondale and Patton 2001, p. 137)

Integration, however, was commonly regarded as an ultimate means to equality

(Kluger 1976; Marable 1984; Irons 2002). Mixing white and black students would not

only minimize the chances for black students to be subjected to inferior education, but

also begin to eliminate the norms and values of the traditional racial hierarchy at an early

age. Therefore, as the NAACP devised its legal strategy for Brown, it had little trouble

convincing the plaintiffs, as well as many other blacks who supported or sympathized

with the effort, that separate schools (and other public facilities for that matter) were

unlikely to be equal as long as they remained racially separate. The unfulfilled promises

of equality for blacks in America after the Reconstruction, and the state of the black

schools in the first half of the 20th century despite the “equal” clause in the “separate but

equal” doctrine sanctioned by Plessy, were particularly pivotal in the NAACP’s

conviction that the only way to dismantle the racial caste was to push for integration

(Brooks 1974; Marable 1984; Bloom 1986; Tushnet 1987; Weisbrot 1990; Sitkoff 1993).5

The first round of arguments in the Brown case took place in December 1952.

The chief counsel for the NAACP, Thurgood Marshall, along with other leading lawyers working for the organization, presented the inherent disadvantages of school segregation, emphasizing that the problems were associated not just with tangible factors, such as

5 Some critics of the NAACP, such as Derrick A. Bell (2004), contend that the NAACP lawyers might have been unethical, at least on some occasions, because they pursued a cause rather than the real interests of the black community by regarding desegregation as more vital than the quality of education for black students. Tushnet (1987) provides substantial evidence that this was not the case. His analysis suggests that significant community support among blacks for racial integration was not just ethically desirable, but an essential condition for success. “If the [NAACP] wished to succeed,” Tushnet points out, “the lawyers could not afford to strong-arm the clients into supporting the lawyers’ decisions” (p. 153). Rather, the lawyers had to convince and persuade the community to accept the tactics and goals of the NAACP. Where the lawyers did not succeed in this effort, litigation often failed. And, where the communities or litigants chose non-NAACP lawyers, they faced a greater likelihood of defeat in the courts.

disparities in funding, facilities, curriculums, teacher quality, and teacher-students ratios,

but with intangible ones, such as the ways in which separate schools reinforced the belief

in racial inequality, damaged the self-esteem of black children, promoted separate social

networks that extended into adulthood, and therefore restricted the life chances of blacks

in America at the outset (Kluger 1976). Kenneth Clark’s findings from the doll tests

were a key part of the evidence. The equal protection requirement put forth by the 14th

Amendment, Marshall argued, could never be fulfilled by means of segregated schooling.

The defense argued that it was possible to make separate schools equal, such

equality did exist in some locations at least in tangible terms; there was thus no need to

reverse Plessy. In addition, the chief defense lawyer, John W. Davis, cited W. E. B.

Dubois, one of the founders of the NAACP, who argued that not all blacks believed school desegregation would help their race. Marshall responded by asserting that Davis failed to explain why blacks were taken out of the mainstream of American life and that

Jim Crow schooling has played an essential part in the process of racial exclusion

(Friedman 2004).

No clear victor emerged in the first round of arguments. Instead, the justices delivered a list of questions about the five cases involved and the 14th Amendment itself.

Records of private discussions between the justices indicate that Chief Justice Fred M.

Vinson was initially inclined to rule against the NAACP, particularly because he did not favor reversing the Court’s own ruling in Plessy (Williams 1987). Nine months passed without a ruling. Then, in September 1953, Chief Justice Vinson died unexpectedly of a heart attack, and President Eisenhower soon nominated Earl Warren to bench.6

6 Eisenhower owed Warren a debt from the 1952 Republican convention, when Warren’s political maneuvering had assured Eisenhower’s nomination (Cray 1997; Newton 2006). Although Warren extolled

Warren proceeded with the second round of arguments in December 1953. The

Court heard the attorneys respond to the questions delivered a year earlier. The basic

themes in the arguments of the two sides, however, remained largely the same. The

hearings lasted less than a week. It is not clear when Warren made up his mind about

ruling against segregation, but he worked diligently in the next few months to secure a

unanimous decision because he believed that if the Court were to appear divided on this

controversial issue, the ruling would be much more difficult to implement (Schwartz

1983). According to Kluger (1976), Warren had a difficult time securing that unanimity.

In particular, Justice Stanley Reed, who was from the South, wanted to write a dissenting

opinion. Reed’s clerk George Mickum recalls that his boss struck a deal with Warren:

Reed would vote with the majority if the Warren court would allow segregation to be

dismantled gradually rather than all at once (Kluger 1976). This “go slow” approach

would have a detrimental effect on desegregation in the next ten years, especially because

the Brown decision would lack a clear implementation clause.

Nevertheless, the logic of the eventual ruling strongly reflected the integrationist

aspirations of the NAACP. On May 17, 1954, Chief Justice Warren stated that

Today, education in perhaps the most important function of the state and local governments. Compulsory school attendance laws and great expenditures for education both demonstrate our recognition of the importance of education to our democratic society. … [Education] is a principal instrument in awakening the child to cultural values, in preparing him for later professional training and in helping him to adjust normally to his environment. … [I]t is doubtful that any child may reasonably be expected to succeed in life if he is denied the opportunity of an education. Such an opportunity, where the state has undertaken to provide it, is a right which must be made available to all on equal terms. … Does segregation of children in public schools solely on the basis of race, even though the physical facilities and other “tangible” factors may

equality for all under the law and fair employment, he had supported locking away Japanese-Americans in internment camps during World War II when he was California’s attorney general (Cray 1997).

be equal, deprive the children of the minority group of equal educational opportunities? We believe that it does. … To separate them from others of similar age and qualification solely on the basis of their race generates a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely to ever be undone. … We conclude that in the field of public education the doctrine of “separate but equal” has no place. Separate educational facilities are inherently unequal. Therefore, we hold that the plaintiffs and others similarly situated for whom the actions have been brought are, by reason of segregation complained of, deprived of the equal protection of the laws guaranteed by the Fourteenth Amendment. This disposition makes unnecessary any discussion whether such segregation also violates the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. (quoted in Friedman 2004, p. 329-30, italics are added)

Brown struck down separate schooling in a way that stimulated the NAACP’s

efforts to expose the immorality of segregation and openly challenge unfairness in as

many realms as possible. It also spurred new optimism within the black community.

Thurgood Marshall predicted that segregated schools would be eliminated in “up to five

years” (quoted in Rosenberg 1991, p. 43). Julius Chambers, a black teenager in rural

North Carolina who was later to become director-counsel for the NAACP Legal Defense

Fund, recalled that many blacks viewed Brown to be self-executing: “The law had been

announced, and people would have to obey it. Wasn’t that how things worked in

America, even in white America?” (quoted in Patterson 2001, p. 70).

Despite the enthusiasm however, the Court’s ruling met with unwavering

opposition. Most political leaders, both at the federal and local levels, found the ruling to

be too radical. Although he declared that he would do all he can to uphold the law,

President Eisenhower refused to publicly endorse Brown, regretting he had ever

appointed Warren to the Supreme Court, calling it “the biggest damfool mistake I ever

made” (quoted in Sitkoff 1993, p. 25). He told a speechwriter that he was “convinced

that [Brown] set back progress in race relations at least fifteen years [because] feelings

run deep on this, especially where children are involved” (quoted in Williams 1987, p.

38). The head of the Democratic Party, Adlai Stevenson, barely differed on this issue

from his GOP rival. He asked that the South be given time and patience and rejected the

idea of court-ordered desegregation (Patterson 2001).

Southern leaders were even blunter. Georgia governor Herman Talmadge, for

instance, declared the ruling “a mere scrap of paper” and predicted that abolishing

segregation would “create chaos not seen since Reconstruction days” (quoted in Williams

1987, p. 34). Similarly, Governor James F. Byrnes of South Carolina asserted that

“Ending segregation would mark the beginning of the end of civilization in the South as

we have known it” (quoted in Williams 1987, p. 34). Public resistance in the South also

intensified. Violence against ordinary blacks increased dramatically (McAdam 1982).

Affluent blacks that actively supported the desegregation effort were particularly subject

to intimidation. Bank loans were called in, people were fired, mortgages were

foreclosed, black schools and churches were bombed, and stores refused to supply

farmers with seed for planting and machines for harvesting (Weisbrot 1990).

Most importantly, without clear directives on how and when to achieve

integration, Brown was highly vulnerable to subversion. As a matter of fact, in a break

with tradition, the Court did not order the states to enforce the rights just announced, but

instructed the Brown lawyers to return a few months later to address specific questions

about the scope of their ruling. Ironically, this gave Thurgood Marshall and other

NAACP much needed time to flesh out their demands for putting Brown into practice

because such demands were not explicitly formulated prior to the ruling. The NAACP

had been occupied more with changing the constitution than with specifying the remedies

for discrimination and the associated time line (Kluger 1976).

Nonetheless, the basic remedies were self-evident. The most immediate priority was to undo “dual” school systems by equalizing the tangible features of the schools

(funds, facilities, and so on). Black students residing in the catchment zones of white schools also had to be allowed to attend those schools, such as in the case of Linda

Brown. In addition, it would be necessary to modify catchment zones and adjust locations for new school buildings in ways that facilitated the goal of integration to the best extent possible. Where such remedies were insufficient, however, students would have to be transported for reasonable distances across residential areas.

The NAACP lawyers presented the Court some of these ideas in broad terms since particular plans would have to be drawn according to the unique features of various school systems. Whatever the eventual plans, however, Thurgood Marshall was very specific about the need for integration efforts to start at once, certainly no later than

September 1955. Yet, fearful that Southern segregationists, as well as the executive and

legislative branches of state and federal governments, would both resist and impede the

ruling, the Court espoused the conservative stance of the Justice Department and the

attorneys general of the Southern states (Sitkoff 1993). It not only failed to provide

unambiguous guidelines for achieving integration, but openly sanctified the “go slow”

approach that was implicitly conveyed earlier. In its ruling on May 31, 1955, which

came to be known as Brown II, the Court unanimously concluded that

Full implementation of [desegregation] may require solution of varied local school problems. School authorities have the primary responsibility for elucidating, assessing, and solving these problems; courts will have to consider whether the action of school authorities constitutes good faith

implementation of the governing constitutional principles. … [In addition,] while a prompt and reasonable start toward full compliance with our May 17, 1954 ruling is necessary, once such a start has been made, the courts may find that additional time is necessary to carry out the ruling in an effective manner. The burden rests upon the defendants to establish that such time is necessary in the public interest and is consistent with good faith compliance at the earliest practicable date. … [The lower federal courts should] enter [desegregation] orders and decrees consistent with this opinion as are necessary and proper to admit to public schools on a racially nondiscriminatory basis with all deliberate speed the parties to these cases. (quoted in Humphrey 1964, p. 30-1, italics are added)

In addition to its emphasis on incremental change and on the need for reliance on local initiatives for planning and pacing school desegregation,7 Brown II suggested that

the solution to racial inequality rested simply in outlawing race-conscious admittance of

children to public schools (“admit to public schools on a racially nondiscriminatory

basis”), which effectively meant allowing black students access to white schools. It had

no mention of changing more fundamental arrangements, such as catchment zones and

school construction plans, or student transportation policies (Balkin 2001). The Court’s

failure to tighten the original Brown mandate depressed the momentum of the

desegregation effort and emboldened the resistance, which was most pronounced in the

South (Orfield 1975). As a result, the NAACP had to concentrate its efforts to expose

and fight the gradualism and outright defiance against abolishing de jure school

segregation in the South, which fostered the misperception that racial inequality in the

schools was primarily a Southern problem, even though Brown had addressed segregation

in the entire nation, and had, in spirit, called for ending segregation regardless of whether

it was legally sanctioned or not. Separate schools were inherently unequal.

7 According to Ogletree, Jr. (2004), the NAACP lawyers had a difficult time interpreting the crucial phrase “all deliberate speed” in Brown II. It is reported that they had to consult a dictionary to find out that the phrase meant “slow,” which confirmed their worst fears. The apparent victory was compromised because the resisters were allowed to end segregation on their own time table, dragging it out endlessly and circumventing potential remedies.

2.2. POLITICAL OPPORTUNITY STRUCTURE AND THE PROCESS OF

SCHOOL DESEGREGATION IN THE LATE 1950s AND THE EARLY 1960s

Although individual parents and the NAACP sued hundreds of Southern school

districts during the late 1950s and early 1960s, the “do nothing” tactic prevailed in much

of the South in that period. However, in the same period, the rise of the broader civil

rights movement and other important developments in American politics facilitated a

significant degree of school desegregation in the late 1960s, particularly in the South.

The notion of “political opportunity structure” is uniquely instrumental in addressing

both the initial resistance to and later progress in desegregation from a theoretical view,

one that accounts for plausible cause-effect dynamics as opposed to a merely narrative

depiction. Reference to political opportunity structure is also useful in explaining the

eventual demise of desegregation in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s.

2.2.1. Opportunity structure and social change

Opportunity structure has to do with the opening and closing of “political space”

for the expression of collective grievances and associated demands (Gamson and Meyer

1996). Social movement scholars (e.g., Tilly 1978; McAdam 1982; Tarrow 1994; Diani

1996; Gamson and Meyer 1996) have shown that the expansion of political opportunity is

critical for latent conflicts of interest to become manifest. One is more likely to pick a

fight with opponents if there is a meaningful chance to start and sustain, and preferably

win that fight, or at least cause some serious damage. The same is true for subjugated

groups. Unfair disparities and the discriminatory practices that perpetuate them (such as

segregated public schools) may prevail—no matter how extensive the resulting

deprivation—due to a lack of opportunity to challenge them. Thus, although oppression

and unfairness are important triggers for collective protest, there is hardly an inevitable link between such factors on the one hand and protest on the other. In Tarrow’s (1994) words,

even a cursory look at modern history shows that outbreaks of collective action cannot be derived from the level of deprivation that people suffer or from the disorganization of their societies; for these preconditions are more constant than the movements that they supposedly cause. What varies widely from time to time and from place to place are political opportunity structures, and social movements are more closely related to the incentives they provide for collective action than to the underlying social or economic inequities. (p. 81)

In essence, conflicts with regard to unfair inequality are likely to remain latent so

long as the opportunity for open struggle is restricted. Reference to opportunity structure

helps reconcile the deterministic and voluntaristic conceptions of social change. From a deterministic view, both the absence and the presence of manifest conflict are contingent upon the features of “entrenched systems,” such as the capitalist economic system, which govern the conduct of all actors and groups in the social hierarchy. Although these systems periodically encourage insurgent movements, such movements are rarely sufficient to elicit fundamental change because “systemic change” occurs according to

the inherent logics of the systems themselves, not as a consequence of the interests of the insurgents involved. Thus, human agency is ultimately irrelevant, and both protest and

quiescence tend to help reproduce entrenched systems (Piven and Cloward 1979; Korpi and Shalev 1980; Feagin and Capek 1991).

By contrast, the voluntaristic view treats movements as largely a function of

social and material resources available to activists, particularly social movement

organizations (SMOs). Movements arise when members of the subordinate group

manage to establish effective SMOs, recruit supporters, and gain access to money,

facilities, social networks, and competent leaders necessary for voicing otherwise subverted interests (McCarthy and Zald 1977; Jenkins and Perrow 1977). Therefore,

regardless of structural constraints, social relations are subject to change by means of human agency when sufficient organization and resources are available.

Taking the political opportunity structure into account “balances the elements of

structure and agency” in contexts of unfair inequality (Gamson and Meyer 1996, p. 276)

because, while agency always involves the capacity to reproduce or transform the status

quo, its transformative potential may be limited by restrictions on opportunity. Such restrictions are typically the outcome of the actions, inactions, and choices of the

dominant group (Lockwood 1964; Connolly 1974; Lukes 1974, 2005). When the agency

of that group limits the opportunity for protest and change, the unfair status quo is

reproduced without much overt struggle and it maintains structure-like properties in the

experience of the subordinate group. Intentionality on the part of the dominant group is

irrelevant as to whether such domination occurs. While studies of power typically regard

unintentional actions, inactions, and choices as having little, if any, bearing on the

exercise of power (e.g., Wrong 2002),8 prominent political philosophers such as Lukes

(1974, 1977, 2005) and Connolly (1974), as well as sociologists such as Giddens (1979,

1984) and Gaventa (1980) have argued and empirically demonstrated (e.g., Gaventa

1980) that the degree of intentionality is irrelevant so long as (1) the negative consequences of the dominant group’s actions, inactions, and choices are publicly discernable, and (2) the dominant group could have chosen to act differently. Simply put, one man’s agency is another man’s structure (Giddens 1979, 1984).

8 For a broader review of the relevant literature, see Clegg (1989).

In this regard, the notion of opportunity structure underpins a dynamic view of

power concerning race and class relations. Under conditions of glaringly unfair

inequality, the most effective exercise of power by the dominant group involves the

restriction of opportunity for manifest struggle (Adair 1996; Diani 1996). The dominant

group can maintain its privileges by limiting the chances for the subordinate group to

publicly voice or, in extreme cases, to even realize its interests, and to openly challenge the prevailing hierarchy. “Depressing the preconditions for collective action,” Tarrow

(1994) points out, “is a far more effective strategy than its direct suppression” (p. 95).

Such processes of silent domination—or what Lukes (1974, 2004) calls the “third face” of power—are at least as common in unfair social relations as are processes where the parties openly struggle with each other for status and resources. More often than not, it is the decline in the dominant group’s capacity to maintain the limits on the opportunity for

manifest conflict that allows the subordinate group to openly express its interests and

pursue significant change in the status quo (McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald 1996).

In pluralist political systems such as the U.S., opportunity for manifest conflict

expands and contracts either in a “top-down” or a “bottom-up” fashion, or in combination

(McAdam et al. 1988). Top-down processes have to do with the dynamics within the

state apparatus and within the larger web of relations among the ruling elite—the two

elements that are particularly critical for protecting the sectional interests of the dominant

group. Opportunity, in this regard, is a function of (1) the subordinate group’s access to

official policy domains, such as legislatures, government agencies, congressional

committees, and the courts (Bachrach and Baratz 1970; Eisinger 1973; Tilly 1978), (2)

the nature of political alignments between the subordinate group and the mainstream

political parties and/or other key members of the ruling elite, such as popular leaders,

well-connected politicians, resourceful lobbyists, or other “valid spokesmen” (Gamson

1975; Steedly and Foley 1979; McAdam 1982), and (3) the degree of social and political

unity within the ruling elite (Tilly 1978; Tarrow 1994). Thus, when the dominant group

fails to exert sufficient influence over formal arenas of governance, when major political

parties or other influential actors (who are normally sensitive to dominant group

concerns) collaborate with the subordinate group, and when deep divisions within the

ruling elite prevail (which often reflects social fractures within the dominant group), the chances for open contention increase considerably. As a result, the subordinate group

can challenge unfair conditions and inequitable laws and customs, and push for key

remedies more openly than before.

Bottom-up processes of opportunity have mainly to do with the macro trends that

affect the collective bargaining capacity and efficacy of the subordinate group. “[B]road

political, economic, and demographic processes” (McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald 1988,

p. 699)—anything from major shifts in mainstream political culture or attitudes,

realignments in the racial or ethnic composition in the social hierarchy, trends in the

global or national economy, or dramatic changes in the structure of the labor market—

may have favorable or adverse consequences for the political leverage of the subordinate group. In some cases, the dominant group may lose its capacity to restrict bottom-up opportunity for manifest struggle without much influence from the subordinate group.

For instance, rising literacy rates among blacks, along with mounting international pressure (both popular and diplomatic), played a critical role in the rise of insurgent

movements in South Africa in the last two decades of the 20th century (Wood 2000).

White supremacists had been able to forestall and ward off these bottom-up elements

more successfully in earlier decades. In an example from the U.S. context, Jenkins and

Perrow (1977) attribute the rise and success of the American farm workers movement in

the 1960s to “economic and social trends that took place quite independent of any ‘push’

from insurgents” (p. 266). Boycotts of lettuce and grapes by urban liberals, in particular,

facilitated the efforts of the United Farm Workers (UFW) to mobilize for union

recognition and negotiate important concessions. Without such facilitating factors at the

mass level, the opportunity for collective action would have remained significantly

restricted for the farmers.9

There are also occasions where changes in bottom-up opportunity result from

deliberate action by subordinate group SMOs. Oberschall (1996), for example, argues

that the opposition movements in the former communist block nations during the 1980s, such as Poland’s Solidarity, actively planned to derail state-sponsored industrial reforms

in order to weaken their national economies. The goal was not only to undermine the

legitimacy of the socialist regime and thus stimulate larger segments of the public to join

the anti-communist cause, but at the same time, galvanize more support from

international labor unions and Western political parties. These factors, which had been

unavailable during the 1970s, played a critical role in the spread of open contention and the subsequent fall of communism in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Ultimately, whether the opportunity structure is shaped by top-down or bottom up

processes, or both, the degree of opportunity is critical with regard to the nature of the

struggle concerning unfair social relations. While the organizational strength and

9 Jenkins and Perrow point out that UFW’s cause was also facilitated by support from the organized labor coalition in the California legislature as well as the rise of new generation of sympathetic administrators in the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Thus, top-down processes of opportunity were at work as well.

material and social resources are necessary for voicing subordinate group interests—and,

in some cases, organizational capability may in fact amplify the extent of political

opportunity, at least in perceptual terms (e.g., Gamson and Meyer 1996; Ferree et al.

2002; Koopmans and Olzak 2004)—the struggle is likely to remain latent as long as the

actions, inactions, and choices of the dominant group restrict the top-down and/or

bottom-up sources of opportunity regardless of whether such outcomes are unintended,

perceived as benign, or stem from indifference. The decline in the capacity of the

dominant group to exercise such preventative power is the ultimate element that expands the chances for manifest conflict.

2.2.2. The gradual expansion of the opportunity structure for manifest struggle

regarding school desegregation and the eventual progress in the

implementation of Brown

To date, no study has examined school desegregation in the U.S. with specific reference to the evolving nature of the political opportunity structure. However, two scholars, Wasby (1993) and McAdam (1982), address the element of opportunity regarding the broader black struggle for equality in the postwar decades in a way that is particularly relevant for examining school desegregation. Wasby captures the top-down processes of opportunity by focusing on the varying degree and nature of the involvement of the judicial, legislative, and executive branches of the federal government over time.

Dynamics concerning these three main branches reflect the changes in the key factors

emphasized by social movement scholars—the extent of black access to official policy domains, blacks’ alignment with major political parties and other influential actors in the

polity, and elite unity regarding black equality in the U.S. McAdam, on the other hand,

concentrates largely on the bottom-up elements that movement scholars address, such as

variation in the support of Northern whites—particularly the middle-class liberals and

moderates—for black demands for equality, the nature of Cold War pressures on the U.S.

to adopt egalitarian laws and customs pertaining to race relations, and the degree and

nature of interracial contact in public spaces, such as the schools and neighborhoods, in the large metropolitan areas of the North.

According to Wasby (1993), the judicial, legislative, and executive branches of the federal government form a “federal diamond” that includes the Supreme Court, the

Congress, the Senate, and the President. The opportunity for open contention surrounding race relations expands as more corners in the federal diamond take an active and unequivocally positive role in support of equality. In the immediate years that

followed World War II, the Supreme Court became the arena of choice for SMOs, such

as the NAACP, to try to influence policy as the Congress and the Senate remained resistant to any initiatives, and the president was indifferent at best. Strategies such as

legislative lobbying, which had been effective in the NAACP’s campaign for anti-

lynching laws in earlier decades (Zangrando 1980), were unavailable. Neither the

Republican, nor the Democratic Party strongly aligned itself with the goal of school

desegregation or any other major black demand in the 1950s. While the Democrats

dominated the Congress and the Senate, and the liberal members of this Party were

sympathetic to the goal of racial equality, several key committees were chaired by a

coalition of racially traditionalist Dixiecrats and conservative Midwestern Republicans

(Wasby 1993). In addition, heavy-weight Democrats preferred to distance the Party from

the emerging black demands out of a concern for maintaining the Party’s Southern white

vote (Tarrow 1994). Under these circumstances, an all out support for civil rights by

President Eisenhower would have had little meaning, were it to exist at all, which, as

noted earlier, it did not. Thus, there was a formidably conservative unity among the

elected leaders of the nation regarding race relations during the initial push for school desegregation.

Bottom-up sources of opportunity were also limited in the 1950s. While most

Southern whites adamantly opposed racial integration, Northern whites were largely

oblivious to the extent of black problems, and many considered racial inequality a

primarily Southern issue (Bloom 1986). As Myrdal (1944) pointed out in his landmark

An American Dilemma, many whites in the mainstream were able to reconcile the legal

and socioeconomic disadvantages of blacks with the decidedly egalitarian ideals of

freedom and equality in America. Moreover, international—particularly European and

Soviet—criticism of racial inequality in the U.S. was moderated by the postwar economic

dominance of and the strong anti-communist sentiment in America (Bell 2004).

Given these unfavorable macro conditions and the weak support from the federal

diamond, litigation remained the only means of influence over the American polity—a

strategy which, for a considerable period, lacked the backing of a large-scale social

movement against unfair schooling and other racial problems. Thus, even though Brown

was a major civil rights victory, it hardly denoted a thoroughly manifest struggle at the

national level. It came about at a time when the dominant group still possessed

considerable capacity to impede, although not totally eliminate, the opportunity for open

contention regarding school desegregation. This was apparent in the practical vagueness

of the original Brown ruling as well as in the retrogressive nature of Brown II (“go slow”). It was also reflected in the early resistance to abolishing the Jim Crow system of

public education.

Yet, Brown had successfully signaled the promise of racial equality despite the

lack of a national commitment to concrete remedies. Thurgood Marshall “had used the

white man’s laws before an all-white Supreme Court to win a verdict voiding

segregation” (Sitkoff 1993, p. 22), which contributed significantly, as many in the

NAACP had hoped, to the rise and maturation of the broader civil rights movement in the

U.S. That movement would in turn contribute to the expansion of the opportunity for challenging and remedying unfair educational inequality, along with a number of other dimensions of racial discrimination, such as in housing, employment, formal political participation, healthcare, and transportation. Most importantly, the resistance triggered by Brown inadvertently stimulated the civil rights movement further and quicker than the activists and SMOs involved in the movement may have been able to accomplish otherwise (Brisbane 1974). Between the mid-1950s and mid-1960s the preventative power of the dominant group gradually declined.

The murder of Emmett Till, the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and the creation of the

Southern Christian Leadership Conference

The majority of ordinary Americans, both black and white, were stunned in the summer of 1955 by the brutal murder of Emmett Till, a Chicago teen visiting relatives in

Mississippi. He was killed simply for talking to a white woman in a grocery store. More shocking was the “not guilty” verdict delivered by an all-white jury. Later that year,

Rosa Parks, a black activist and a secretary who worked for the NAACP, was arrested in

Montgomery, Alabama over her refusal to give up her front seat in a public bus. The arrest was carefully planned by black organizers, who then initiated the 13-month-long

Montgomery bus boycott, modeled after a similar attempt by blacks in Baton Rouge,

Louisiana a year earlier. This was a strategy of non-violent, passive resistance to the concept and practice of racial caste, a tactic of “refusal to cooperate within the confines of an unjust system” (Williams 1987, p. 79). The boycott gave rise to the Southern

Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), which elected the 26 year old Reverend Martin

Luther King, Jr. as its leader.

The Emmett Till affair and the Montgomery bus boycott provoked significant

outrage among black Americans, the majority of whom had been disappointed with the

lack of national commitment to implement Brown (Marable 1984). Most importantly,

events in the South aroused significant sympathy among Northern whites for the issue of

civil rights. Witnessing the extent of injustice, many whites saw the depth of the racial problem in America, which sharply contradicted the nation’s social and constitutional principles. Younger whites in the North, particularly college students, began to take active part in the civil rights movement in increasing numbers. Growing support from ordinary whites was the first sign of the expanding bottom-up opportunity for full scale manifest struggle against unfair schooling and other areas of racial discrimination

(McAdam 1982). The modern civil rights movement had started.

The integration of Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas

While the non-violent resistance to discrimination was spreading across the South

in the form of sit-ins, boycotts of public services and economic goods, and peaceful

demonstrations (see McAdam 1982 for an excellent sociological review), the problem of

school desegregation, the flagship issue of civil rights, soon re-emerged as a top item on

the national agenda. The critical event signaling this re-emergence was about Jim Crow

schooling in Little Rock, Arkansas.

Southern leaders had been doing their best to deliver on their promises to defy

federal authority in education. May 17, 1954, the day on which the Brown ruling was

issued, was labeled “Black Monday” throughout the South and the Border States (Bartley

1999). White grassroots organizations had emerged in several counties with three

common purposes: the nullification of the NAACP, the creation of a separate state for

blacks, and the abolition of the public schools. In 1956, black students were expelled

from the University of Alabama, and whites accompanying black students to Clinton

High School in Knoxville, Tennessee were severely beaten. Later that year, 101

members of the U.S. Congress from the South signed a Declaration of Constitutional

Principles, which came to be known as the “Southern Manifesto.” It proclaimed that

neither the Supreme Court, nor any other branch of the federal government, possessed

any power to end segregation (Sitkoff 1993). Soon, “massive resistance” began, which

involved the closing of all public schools, first in Virginia, then in several of the other

states of the Old Confederacy (Bartley 1999). In addition, many districts adopted

“freedom-of-choice” plans, which allowed white parents to opt out of integrated schools

and enroll their children in all-white schools regardless of the traditional catchment zones

(Patternson 2001).

The chance that the NAACP had been waiting for came in 1957, when Arkansas

Governor Orval Faubus called out the National Guard rather than allow the Little Rock

School Board to admit nine black teens to its all-white Central High School. Thurgood

Marshall effectively used this occasion to force the federal government into the growing

controversy more than it had been involved before. He contacted President Eisenhower

and demanded action be taken to assert federal authority (Jones 1979). Eisenhower, who

had refused to endorse school desegregation only three years earlier, now had to send the

101st Airborne Division from Fort Campbell, Kentucky to enforce federal law. Despite

the threats and racial slurs by the surrounding mob and strong public protest, the black

students entered the school under federal troop protection. This was the first time that the

executive branch of the federal government, namely the President, got involved in school

desegregation, which signaled the gradual expansion of top-down opportunity for open

contention. Also, while “black access to white schools” was hardly a remedy that

fulfilled Brown’s fundamental mission, namely the total dismantling of unfair educational

inequality, the Little Rock experience was the first public confrontation regarding the

schools that received wide coverage in both the white and black media across the nation

(Hampton and Fayer 1990). This not only further amplified the sense of support and

sympathy in the North, but demonstrated the extent of the growing black resolve for

equality.

The push for school desegregation continued to benefit from the steady

maturation of the civil rights movement in the late 1950s as more blacks embraced non-

violent direct action and volunteered to enroll in previously all-white schools in order to

openly confront the Jim Crow system despite the risks involved (Patterson 2001; Irons

2002). While much of the effort focused on the South, such as in Mississippi, the

Carolinas, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, and Louisiana, it also reached as far North as

Maryland. As the resistance to Brown continued, efforts to expose and break the

resistance intensified. But, it was not until the mid-1960s that meaningful progress was made to defeat the tactics to evade Brown. Significant changes in the political

opportunity structure were to occur during the first half of the new decade.

By the end of the 1950s, the civil rights movement had gained considerable

strength and involved several influential social movement organizations besides the

SCLC, such as the Fellowship for Reconciliation (FOR), Student Non-Violent

Coordinating Committee (SNCC), and the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE).10 These

SMOs organized thousands of non-violent protests, many of which instigated public crises in the South that helped reinforce the growing Northern support for racial equality.

The crises also helped embarrass the U.S. internationally, since the domestic racial problem was inconsistent with the postwar ideals of democracy and freedom that

America advocated against the communist alternative (McAdam 1982). Every time the mistreatment of blacks made headlines, the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations would face strong criticism from America’s Western allies and would be scolded by the Soviets in the general assembly (Dudziak 2002). Although international pressure constituted a bottom-up source of opportunity for manifest struggle within the U.S., it affected the dynamics within the American ruling elite as well, since it sharpened the disagreements inside both the Democratic and Republican Parties regarding the extent of federal action required to promote racial equality. Many leaders believed that it was increasingly

10 While most of these organizations were created in the South, some were Northern, such as CORE, which was founded in the early 1940s in Chicago (Meier and Rudwick 1973).

necessary to alleviate the problem at least to the extent sufficient to restore the

international image and legitimacy of the U.S. (Bell 2004). Considerable divisions

among national leaders were an important top-down source of opportunity for manifest

struggle. While there were several events that influenced race relations in the first half of

the 1960s, six of them stand out in terms of their consequences for expanding the political

opportunity even further, in both top-down and bottom-up fashion. These events are

discussed below in chronological order.

The presidency of John F. Kennedy

John F. Kennedy became President in 1960, which marked the beginning of a

lasting alignment between the Democratic Party and the black struggle for equality. Both

Kennedy and his Republican rival, Vice President Richard M. Nixon, had refrained from

supporting the civil rights movement during much of their campaigns (O’Reilly 1995).

Kennedy was particularly careful not to alienate the traditional Southern white base of the

Democratic Party. He had publicly said that the “all deliberate speed” clause in Brown II

was a “satisfactory arrangement” (Brauer 1979). Privately, however, he was more

supportive of the movement than Nixon was. Prior to the elections, when Martin Luther

King, Jr. was arrested in Atlanta for sitting in the white section of a restaurant, Kennedy contacted his wife Coretta Scott King and offered his help. John F. Kennedy’s younger brother, Robert Kennedy, and other campaign aides got involved in the matter and facilitated King’s release from jail (Brauer 1979).

Until that time, many civil rights activists and SMOs had been favoring the

Republicans, since the Republicans had historically done more than the Democrats had

done for racial equality. King, however, declared that “It is time for all of us to take off

our Nixon button” (quoted in Williams 1987, p. 143). Kennedy also tried to reach out to

the blacks in more explicit fashion in the final months of his presidential campaign.

According to a post-election Gallup poll, Kennedy received 68 percent of the black vote

in one of the closest presidential elections in American history (Williams 1987). He won

by a margin of two-thirds of one percent in the popular vote. For the first time since the

end of World War II, a president who was explicitly supportive of black demands for

equality was in office. Six years after the Supreme Court’s Brown ruling, the executive

corner of the federal diamond appeared to be friendlier to civil rights. Despite this

change in top-down opportunity for manifest conflict, though, Kennedy was initially slow to act on his promises regarding civil rights because he still preferred to remain on

friendly terms with the Democratic voters and leaders in the South.

The Freedom Ride

The next event not only changed President Kennedy’s posture toward the civil

rights movement, but also sparked a dramatic change in the broader pattern of elite

attitudes toward the racial problem in America. A few months after Kennedy’s

inauguration, CORE organizers decided to test the federal commitment to two Supreme

Court rulings that struck down segregated seating on interstate public transportation—

Keyes v. Carolina Coach Company from 1955 and Boynton v. Virginia from 1960. The

intention was to make it more dangerous politically for the Kennedy administration not to enforce federal law than it would be to enforce the law (Meier and Rudwick 1973). The effort came to be known as the “Freedom Ride,” where a group of black and white

members of CORE would take a bus ride from Washington, D.C. to New Orleans to

celebrate the seventh anniversary of Brown. Whites would sit at the back of the bus and

blacks at the front. At every rest area, the blacks would use the facilities for whites, and

whites would use those for blacks. The Freedom Riders were attacked in Alabama. A

bus was burned in Anniston and the riders on another bus were viciously beaten in

Birmingham. Others were harmed in Montgomery by the Ku Klux Klan (KKK). Federal

marshals and the state police escorted the Riders to Jackson, Mississippi, where they were eventually arrested and jailed. Despite Kennedy’s opposition to the Rides, over

1,000 activists took Freedom Rides by bus, air, and railway transportation throughout the

South (Arsenault 2006).

By November, Kennedy had no option but to pressure the Interstate Commerce

Commission to implement its ban on segregated transportation. This move not only reinforced the Presidential involvement in racial equality and pulled the Democratic Party closer to the fight for civil rights, but also the deepened the rift with the national ruling elite. The bitterness between the Northern and Southern Democratic leaders intensified, and the Republicans quickly began to take advantage of the growing Democratic weakness in the South. This shift was symbolized most vividly by the switch of the

Democratic Senator, J. Strom Thurmond of South Carolina, the Party’s staunchly segregationist candidate in the 1948 presidential elections, to the Republican Party

(Frederickson 2001).

By early 1962, there was a solid alignment between the Democratic Party and the civil rights movement. Kennedy and many other Democratic leaders “moved from cautious foot dragging to seizing the initiative for civil rights” (Tarrow 1994, p. 87), a

strategy that would later be extended by Kennedy’s successor, Lyndon B. Johnson. The

Kennedy administration and several Northern foundations close to the Democratic Party

backed voter registration drives across the nation to enlist as many blacks as possible

(Brauer 1979). In some respects, the Democratic Party was compensating for its rising

unpopularity in the white South by embracing black voters and Northern white moderates

sympathetic of the civil rights movement. In November 1962, Kennedy issued an

executive order that struck at racial discrimination in housing. That same month, the

Democrats gained a number of Senate seats in the midterm elections and controlled two- thirds of the Senate. Now, one of the two legislative corners of the federal diamond was

friendlier to black grievances.

Violence in Birmingham, Alabama

The third pivotal event that affected the political opportunity structure in early

1960s took place in 1963 in Birmingham, Alabama, the urban citadel of Jim Crow

segregation in the Deep South.11 In early April, when two dozen black college students

began sit-ins at four Birmingham stores, and others started routine marches to support them, the notoriously racist police commissioner, T. Eugene “Bull” Connor loosed police dogs on the activists. Later that month, King and other civil rights leaders traveled to

Birmingham for support and were arrested and convicted of criminal contempt. In May,

SCLC organized school children to march against segregation. When “Bull” ordered the police and the fire department to use powerful water hoses against the children, black

11 A racist white power structure maintained a segregated regimen in Birmingham so thoroughly that opposition was almost unthinkable (McWhorter 2001). The town was a KKK stronghold, and when the Supreme Court issued Brown, Alabama’s attorney general countered with a series of law suits that immobilized Birmingham’s NAACP branch from 1956 to 1964.

spectators retaliated by throwing bricks and bottles. The violence against the children

attracted dramatic media coverage.12 Blacks and Northern whites were shocked and

outraged more than ever before. Diplomatic criticism of the U.S. was also

unprecedented. President Kennedy intervened to end the violence and to ensure that the

non-violent tactics of the civil rights movement prevailed over violent means. Soon,

however, the KKK bombed a hotel where black leaders were staying and burned the

home of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s brother, A. D. King, a leader of the Birmingham

Movement. Blacks reacted in an urban race riot by burning cars and buildings. Alabama

state troopers had to move in to suppress the rioting and restore order.13

The Birmingham episode provoked the highest level of white support for racial

equality until that point. Every major newspaper and several political leaders—mostly

from the Democratic Party, but also from among the Republicans—demanded swift

federal action to improve race relations. Republican Senator John S. Cooper accused

both major political parties of “paying lip service to the cause of civil rights” and told the

U.S. Senate that “the use of dogs and fire hoses against human beings … just seeking

their constitutional rights … is reprehensible” (quoted in New York Times 1963, May 7,

p. 32). Senator Wayne Morse, Democrat from Oregon, said the spectacle in Birmingham

“would disgrace a Union of South Africa or a Portuguese Angola” (quoted in New York

Times 1963, May 7, p. 32). Leftist press throughout Europe printed pictures of the

12 SCLC’s strategy was explicitly directed at provoking “Bull,” anticipating his violent response and the consequent media coverage, although nobody thought he would go as far as hurting the protesting children. “We have got to have a crisis to bargain with,” King’s right-hand man Wyatt T. Walker asserted at the SCLC retreat. “To take a moderate approach hoping to get white help doesn’t help. They nail you to the cross, and it snaps the enthusiasm of the followers. You’ve got the have a crisis” (quoted in Sitkoff 1993:120). 13 Even this, however, was not enough to end the unrest in Birmingham. The tension continued, and four months later, the KKK bombed a black Baptist church, killing four Sunday School children: Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carol Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley. Again, black residents of Birmingham vented their anger in rioting (Lowery and Marszalek 1992)

violence for several days in a row. In Moscow, the Communist party newspaper, Pravda,

ran the story under the headline “Monstrous Crimes among Racists in the United States”

(quoted in New York Times 1963, May 10, p. 14). Bottom-up opportunity for open

contention against discrimination in all areas of life was at an all time high.

The violence in Birmingham also compelled the Kennedy administration to take a

much more active and comprehensive role in race relations, further reinforcing the role of

the executive branch in the top-down opportunity. The President was “sickened” by the

events in Birmingham. He warned that “the events in Birmingham and events elsewhere

have so increased the cries for equality that no city or state or legislative body can

prudently choose to ignore them” (quoted in Brauer 1979, p. 86). “The moral crisis,”

Kennedy said,

cannot be met by repressive police action or quieted by token moves or talk. It is time to act in the Congress, in your state and local legislative body, and, above all, in all our daily lives. (quoted in Sitkoff 1993, p. 146)

Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy issued a public statement saying that the

“grievances of the Negro residents of Birmingham, or of any city, North or South, should

be aired and the injustices to them should be removed” (quoted in New York Times 1963,

May 4, p. 8, italics are added). The Kennedy administration considered school

desegregation the touchiest and most urgent issue of all because they knew that the

federal courts in Alabama were likely to order desegregation in a few pending school

cases soon, which might trigger more violence and require Presidential involvement to

enforce federal law (Mathewson 1963).14 Kennedy then asked the Congress to pass a

14 Indeed, on May 16, 1963, a federal court ordered the University of Alabama to admit two black students, James Hood and Vivian Malone. The newly elected Governor of Alabama, George C. Wallace, who had pledged “Segregation now; segregation tomorrow; segregation forever!” during his inaugural address,

civil rights law that granted authority to the Attorney General to initiate school

desegregation suits; included provisions for desegregating public accommodations; establishing a Community Relations Service to prevent racial conflicts; improving the

economic status of blacks; and empowering the government to withhold funds from federally supported programs and facilities in which discrimination occurred. The bill also banned practices to limit black voting. Congressional liberals moved quickly to strengthen the act further, adding provisions for a permanent Fair Employment Practices

Commission and for federal registrars to enroll black voters across the nation.

The March on Washington

The Congress failed to vote as quickly as the civil rights leaders and the Kennedy

administration had hoped because it was still dominated by a coalition of Dixiecrats and

Midwestern Republicans, who were intent on blocking or at least weakening the Kennedy

bill. Also, the Democrats had lost a number of Congressional seats, some of which had

been held by liberals, to the Republicans in the 1962 midterm elections. The Congress

was the last of the four corners in the federal diamond that had to be constructively

involved in the effort for equality in order for the top-down opportunity for open

contention regarding racial discrimination to maximize. For several weeks, the Kennedy

bill was stalled by careful maneuvering in the Congress (Cotman 1989).

Blacks across America, who had been frustrated by the delays in implementing

Brown, were growing increasingly impatient with the Congress. “Equality NOW!” had

become a common slogan. Key SMOs, such as the NAACP, the National Urban League

attempted to block the students from entering the school. This led President Kennedy to intervene once again, this time by nationalizing the Alabama National Guard, which eventually enforced the court order.

(NUL), CORE, SNCC, and SCLC agreed to chair the March on Washington, a mass

public meeting to pressure the Congress to pass the Kennedy bill. A number of

prominent white leaders also joined the effort, particularly the directors of religious and

labor organizations. The group of organizers agreed that while the March would address

all aspects of the problem of racial inequality, it would have three dominant themes:

school desegregation, black unemployment, and housing problems (Hedge 1964; Harvey

1971).

Attempts at mass marches in the late 1950s had typically drawn disappointing

crowds of only 10,000 to 15,000 people (Luker 1997). But, on August 28 1963, more

than 250,000 people—black and white, poor and rich, laborers and bosses, athletes and

celebrities, professional women and housewives, Protestants, Catholics, Jews, and others

from almost every state in the union—gathered at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington,

D.C. The crowd, whose size exceeded the organizers’ expectations, chanted “Pass that

bill! Pass that bill! Pass that bill!” calling on the Congress to support Kennedy’s effort

(Hedge 1964). Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his famous “I have a dream!” speech,

which was covered live by ABC, NBC, and CBS. He called on America to live up to its

egalitarian creed and expressed the urgency of legal freedoms for blacks in the South, as

well as educational, economic, and social improvement for blacks everywhere in the

nation. Many blacks, he asserted, were free only to “move from a smaller ghetto to a

larger one.” Noting school desegregation in particular, he said that he dreamed that one

day, “little black boys and little black girls will be able to join hands with little white

boys and white girls as sister and brothers” (quoted in Williams 1987, p. 205). The

March on Washington was, by far, the largest mass meeting of the civil rights movement.

It demonstrated the extent of not only black unity, but also the nationwide support for

civil rights among ordinary Americans. This bottom-up source of opportunity for open

struggle put significant pressure on the Congress to act.

The presidency of Lyndon B. Johnson and the signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964

John F. Kennedy was assassinated on November 22, 1963. He never saw his civil

rights bill become law. Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson became President and quickly

embraced the civil rights cause. Kennedy’s death stirred considerable sympathy for the

attainment of the goals he sought (Brauer 1979). Many considered the passage of the civil rights bill the most fitting memorial to the slain leader (Sitkoff 1993). Although the

Congress passed the bill in early 1964, a Southern filibuster held it up in the Senate for

3.5 months. Southern Senators opposed the bill’s requirement of desegregation in public schools and other public accommodations throughout the nation (Orfield 1975).

Eventually, the Senate voted 73 to 27 for the bill, and on July 2, President Johnson signed the most comprehensive Civil Rights Act in U.S. history. Although the Civil Rights Act banned discrimination in many areas, President Johnson was particularly supportive of

equal education, as he was a former schoolteacher who had taught the impoverished

children of Mexican American laborers. He embraced the distinctly American “great

equalizer” notion of public education and viewed egalitarian schooling as a prerequisite

for equal life chances (Mondale and Patton 2001).

A friendly President, the Brown ruling, the strong national and international

support for civil rights, and the recently passed Civil Rights Act gave the NAACP all the

ammunition it needed to challenge unfair educational inequality in as many locations as

possible, starting with the districts in the South, gradually moving to the North. Top-

down and bottom-up opportunity were working in unison for the first time, making it

more likely than ever for the NAACP to win and ensure the implementation of school

desegregation rulings and other race-related initiatives. Therefore, the organization

greatly expanded its efforts.

The NAACP lawyers drew particularly on Title IV and Title VI of the Civil

Rights Act because these two titles could easily be used to summon federal help, even

without protracted court cases. Title VI established the Office for Civil Rights under the

Department of Health, Education, and Welfare (HEW), now the Department of

Education. The Office of Civil Rights was charged with the task of (1) investigating

complaints of discrimination brought to it by individuals and groups, such as the

NAACP, and (2) monitoring the status of ensuing school desegregation plans in relevant

districts. The Office for Civil Rights was also required to conduct national surveys of

schools for civil rights purposes—on an annual basis until 1974, followed by surveys in

even-numbered years from then on. Title IV, on the other hand, gave the Attorney

General the authority to file school desegregation law suits, as originally proposed by

President Kennedy. It also required the Office of Education to provide technical assistance to school districts developing desegregation plans, including the establishment of desegregation assistance centers.

The number of law suits brought on by the NAACP and other grievances regarding unfair educational inequality exploded after the passage of the Civil Rights Act

(Orfield 1969). Civil rights activists and SMOs began seizing the opportunity as best they could. More than 500 complaints were filed at the Office of Civil Rights and over

400 cases were filed at the federal courts before the end of 1964 alone (Radin 1977).

However, the Civil Rights Act contained two restrictions. The first was its definition of

school desegregation:

the assignment of students to public schools and within such schools without regard to their race, color, religion, or national origin; but desegregation shall not mean the assignment of students to public schools in order to overcome racial imbalance. (quoted in Raffel 1998, p. 51)

The Act also stated that

Nothing herein shall empower any official or court of the United States to issue any order seeking to achieve a racial balance in any school by requiring the transportation of pupils from one school to another or one school district to another in order to achieve such racial balance…. (quoted in Raffel 1998, p. 51)

The common theme of these restrictions echoed the limited view of desegregation conveyed in Brown II, which, as discussed earlier, defined the fundamental remedy for segregated education as “admittance to public schools on a racially non-discriminatory

basis.” Therefore, the Civil Rights Act left aside other important remedies such as the

rearrangement of catchment zones and school construction policies, and most

importantly, transporting students for integration purposes. Race-blind enrollment would

help break the pattern of de jure segregation in the South and provide willing blacks

across the nation, such as Linda Brown, access to white schools. But, it would fall short

of alleviating the historically accumulated sources of unfair educational inequality.

Nevertheless, many civil rights activists and SMOs considered the Civil Rights Act an

important milestone. Roy Wilkins, the Executive Director of the NAACP at the time,

described the value of the prevailing opportunity structure as follows:

If you are digging a ditch with a teaspoon, and a man comes along and offers you a spade there is something wrong with your head if you don’t

take it just because he didn’t offer you a bulldozer. (quoted in Sitkoff 1993, p. 33)

1964 midterm elections and Johnson’s War on Poverty

In late 1964 and early 1965, the opportunity for openly challenging segregated

education and other racial disparities peaked. The 1964 presidential elections resulted in

a landslide victory for Lyndon B. Johnson over his Republican rival, Barry M.

Goldwater. The liberal sentiment in the nation, nurtured in large part by the civil rights

movement, was so strong that the Democrats took 36 Congressional seats from the

Republicans, establishing nearly a 70 percent majority. Never in the history of the U.S.

had the top-down support for racial equality been so high. All four corners of the federal

diamond—the Supreme Court, the President, the Congress, and the Senate—were

positively oriented towards progress in race relations (Wasby 1993). This, combined

with the bottom-up support from the majority of the American public and the

international context, set the grounds for President Johnson’s next move, namely his War

on Poverty.

Johnson introduced his plan for a federal fight to eradicate poverty during his inaugural speech in 1965. It included several economic, social and welfare programs to uplift poor Americans, aiming particularly at blacks living in the ghettos of the Northern cities. For the majority of these blacks, political and legal rights won by the Civil Rights

Act meant little without matching improvements in their social and economic standing, which had been restricted by generations of de facto discrimination in key areas such as the labor market, education, housing, and healthcare (Goodwin 1977). President Johnson promised a sustained federal role in the creation of the Great Society.

Several bills were passed by Congress during the first half of 1965 as part of the

Great Society program, such as the Economic Opportunity Act, Omnibus Housing Act,

Higher Education Act, and the Voting Rights Act.15 One of these acts proved vital for school desegregation: Elementary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA). Title I of

ESEA granted over $1.5 billion for school district expenditures on the children of low- income families. Title III allocated funds to establish supplementary educational programs. Title V provided millions more to state departments of education for improvement of services to poor districts.

In the context of a highly favorable political opportunity structure, the NAACP and the federal government used the Civil Rights Act as a “stick” and ESEA as a “carrot” to begin implementing Brown. The Civil Rights Act’s threat of diminished federal funds, combined with ESEA’s promise of extra federal funds compelled the Southern schools to desegregate. The scope and speed of the change were greater than those of any other peacetime racial initiative in U.S. history (Mondale and Patton 2001). In a few years time, many Southern districts took voluntary action without waiting for initiatives by the

NAACP or the federal government, to desegregate their schools. As seen in Figure 2.1, the policy successfully helped maintain high levels of educational integration and equality up until the 1990s. Many experts consider the 1963-1966 period the climax of school desegregation in America (see Orfield 1975, 1978; Hochschild 1984; Carmines and Stimson 1989).

15 The Voting Rights Act of 1965 had special significance among the several victories of the civil rights movement. The Act resulted from the landmark 54 mile long Selma-to-Montgomery March organized by the SCLC. In order to attract national attention to the voter registration drive for blacks and to pressure Washington into avoiding possible delays in voting rights, Martin Luther King, Jr. led the March starting in Selma with nearly 3000 people and ending in Montgomery with over 25,000.

------

Figure 2.1 about here

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However, the late 1960s would witness the beginning of the gradual decline in the opportunity to challenge school segregation and implement the remedies. Having sensed the impending change in the circumstances, President Johnson implored his aides in early

1965 to “Hurrry, boys, hurry! Get the [Great Society] legislation up to the Hill and out.

Eighteen months from now, Ol’ Landslide Lyndon will be Lame-Duck Lyndon” (quoted in Sitkoff 1993, p. 172).

2.3. EDUCATIONAL INEQUALITY IN THE NORTH AND THE

CONTRACTION OF POLITICAL OPPORTUNITY IN THE LATE 1960s

AND EARLY 1970s

The NAACP had diligently selected the cases consolidated under Brown and formulated its argumentation strategy in the Supreme Court so as to ensure that unfair educational inequality for blacks was not treated as a solely Southern problem. However, the fight against de jure racism in the South in the first post-Brown decade reinforced the already prevalent view among most mainstream Americans that the problem was not as serious in other areas of the nation (Kluger 1976). In actual fact, school segregation was, in some ways, more entrenched outside the South. Particularly in large Northern

industrial cities, separate education was closely aligned with housing discrimination.

Southern blacks and whites lived largely interspersed, making school desegregation

feasible, once de jure segregation was outlawed. In contrast, decades of racist residential

practices in the North, sanctioned by both law and custom, created densely populated and

racially homogenous neighborhoods, which largely precluded the feasibility of

desegregation methods used for the Southern schools (Lieberson 1963; Tauber and

Tauber 1965; Massey and Denton 1993).

In addition, despite the absence of Jim Crow laws in the North, many Northern

school boards had been practicing intentionally biased policies with regard to the

education of black students (Drake and Clayton 1945; Clark 1965; Tyack 1974). Schools

in black neighborhoods were typically deprived of the tangible resources and features

common in white schools. In a society that treated its public schools as great equalizers

designed to improve children’s life chances regardless of non-school background, educational administrators often blatantly discriminated against poor black children.

Tyack (1974) notes that

amid the schoolmen’s quest for a one best system and the politics of pluralism [in the early 20th century], the history of black urban education posed a strange anomaly. While publicists glorified the unifying influence of common learning under the common roof of the common school, black Americans were rarely part of that design. (p. 109-10)

Black schools were designed, funded, and staffed inadequately. Also, their curriculums

were affected by the social Darwinist themes that permeated much of education and social science in the early 20th century and well into the 1950s, themes that considered black citizens a “social problem.”16 Segregated and inferior schools were therefore

16 Social Darwinism refers to a paradigm where the status of human beings in the social hierarchy is taken as evidence of their evolutionary capability. It is a view that legitimizes existing inequalities by explaining

viewed as appropriate, if not beneficial, for “defective, delinquent, or … Negro children”

(Tyack 1974, p. 217).

Most importantly, the number of Northern black children in poverty was on the

rise because the already low economic and social capacity of the typical black family in

the North was becoming even more insufficient for upward mobility in America. In

earlier decades, most black households with inferior educational and occupational status

had depended on low-skill industrial jobs located in the urban core, which provided low

but steady income (Sugrue 1993). From the early 1950s and on, however, the

unemployment level of poor blacks began to increase due to declines in the size of the

urban manufacturing sector and greater levels of competition from working-class whites

in the metropolitan labor market (Wilson 1978). Economic deprivation had combined

with residential segregation to aggravate the growth of ghettoized racial enclaves

surrounded by predominantly white, affluent neighborhoods in the North. These material

and geographic circumstances prevented most black families from relocating to

residential areas where their children would have access to better public schools.

As a result of the socioeconomic deterioration in many black communities, the

grassroots capacity of the average black neighborhood to improve its own school had also

been declining. Therefore, given the localist pattern of public education in America,

black schools would still have been inferior to white ones even if the Northern school

boards had refrained from inequitable educational policies.

these inequalities as a reflection of variance in innate talent and motivation. The poor and the rich, and various ethnic, racial, and gender groups, in an unequal system deserve their lot in life because their relative positions reflect evolutionary inevitabilities (for reviews, see Hofstadter 1955; Bannister 1989; Hawkins 1997).

Localism is a national policy that ties the quality and prestige of any given school

to the class composition of that school’s geographic location (Hochschild and Skovronick

2003). Notable studies, both classical and contemporary, have shown that in a context of

strict racial segregation involving significant class differences, public schools located in

predominantly white affluent neighborhoods are bound to have better equipped students

with higher expectations of academic and occupational success, benefit from higher

levels of parental involvement, attract better teachers and administrators, offer more elaborate curricula, and secure higher levels of funding than do the schools in predominantly black and poor neighborhoods (Drake and Clayton 1945; Clark 1965;

Kozol 1991; Lippman et al. 1996; Anyon 1997).

At the core of the localist framework is the concept of the neighborhood school, an organizational form (Scott 1992a, 2001; Aldrich 1999) for structuring and allocating education such that students attend schools nearby where they live. The neighborhood school is among the oldest and most legitimate institutions in America, one that is deeply taken-for-granted such that its appropriateness in public education is rarely questioned.17

Although the localist system was designed to limit centralized government control

(Tyack 1974; Katznelson and Weir 1985; Katz 1987) and enable parents and other

community members to monitor and intervene in the conditions of their schools (Noguera

2003), the concept of the neighborhood school has also been pivotal in perpetuating

unfair educational disparities. In Metz’s (1986) words,

17 The notion of “taken-for-grantedness” is borrowed from organizational neo-institutionalism, which emphasizes the cognitive or cultural basis of organizational forms and practices. A specific way of organizing people, activities, and resources becomes an institution when it acquires a cognitively taken for granted status (Meyer and Rowan 1977) such that “other types of behavior are inconceivable” (Scott 2001, p. 57). In other words, an organizational form becomes an institution when its correctness or appropriateness becomes uncontested by the majority of the actors operating in its domain.

It is an open secret throughout the nation that, both within and across districts, schools are anything but equivalent. They have different access to resources, not only to those which money can buy, but also to intangible resources such as high morale and a sense of academic purpose. Officially standardized neighborhood schools develop well-recognized local reputations on the basis of such resources. (p. 18-9) When civil rights activists, SMOs and other reformers began concentrating their

efforts on desegregating the Northern schools in the mid-1960s, the futility of simply

allowing black students access to white schools quickly became apparent, given the

geographic arrangement and the sheer number of students involved. Equalizing the

schools in terms of tangible features was also insufficient because the majority of poor

black children suffered from significant non-school problems associated with ghetto

poverty, problems that greatly undermined the public schools’ capacity to function as

great equalizers and help children succeed (Clark 1965; Liebow 1967; Ryan 1971).

The nature and extent of the non-school problems at the time were revealed by the

results of the first national survey conducted by the Office for Civil Rights, which came

to be known as the Coleman Report (Coleman et al. 1966). Sociologist James S.

Coleman and his colleagues determined that, while there were systematic disparities

between black and white schools, educational inequality was correlated more strongly

with the disadvantages outside the schools, such as economic deprivation, impoverished

neighborhood conditions, and disruptive family structure. Children whose parents were

unemployed or underemployed, who lived in ghettoized environments, and lacked a

stable and supportive home context tended to fail educationally regardless of school

quality. As obvious as this finding was to many educators, the Coleman Report was the

first rigorous study that conveyed the inherent flaw in viewing the public schools as great

equalizers under conditions of severe non-school disadvantages. As such, it conveyed the

need to adopt remedies that were much more comprehensive than mere racial mixing—

although racial mixing was critical too because the Report also found that diverse peer structures within the schools, in terms of both race and class, significantly improved the academic performance of minority children, a finding that gave considerable legitimacy to school desegregation efforts.

This insight was corroborated by another influential study, Racial Isolation in the

Public Schools, by the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights (1967), which found that racial mixing, especially at an early age strongly diminished racial prejudice and contributed to educational achievement. Therefore, reform in the North essentially required not only equal and integrated schools, which was Brown’s basic mandate, but also large-scale interventions to improve non-school conditions so that poor black children could adequately benefit from egalitarian public education.

2.3.1. The logic of urban educational reform outside the South

Between 1870 and 1950, over five million blacks migrated out of the South

(Hamilton 1964). The majority of them settled in the industrial cities of the North and the rest moved to the growing cities of the West. By the mid-1960s, close to half of the nearly 20 million blacks in America lived outside the South (Kluger 1976). Prominent civil rights leaders were keenly aware of urban blacks’ problems. “To the segregation by race,” Bayard Rustin (1971) noted, “was added segregation by class, and all the problems created by segregation and poverty—inadequate schooling, substandard and overcrowded housing, lack of access to jobs, job training, narcotics and crime—were greatly

aggravated” (p. 74). Martin Luther King, Jr. (1968) asked “What good is it to be allowed

to eat in a restaurant if you can’t afford a hamburger?”

The Civil Rights Act of 1964 removed the legal barriers to racial progress and

created “equality of condition” (Tawney 1931) in the form of impartial rules, regulations,

and rewards for success in a system of equal opportunity. However, genuine equality of

opportunity in a modern industrialized society also requires “equal start” for lower class

children (Rawls 1971; Rae et al. 1981), which involves a sufficient level of socioeconomic capacity among lower class families as well as an effective and equitable public education system (Fishkin 1983; Turner 1986). Indeed, the notion of equal start was central to Lyndon B. Johnson’s War on Poverty. In a commencement address he delivered at Howard University in 1965, Johnson pointed out that

You do not take a person who, for years, has been hobbled by chains and liberate him, bring him up to the starting line of a race and then say, “You are free to compete with all the others,” and still justly believe that you have been completely fair. Thus, it is not enough just to open the gates of opportunity. All our citizens must have the ability to walk through those gates. This is the next and the more profound stage of the battle for civil rights. We seek not just freedom but opportunity. We seek not just legal equity but human ability, not just equality as a right and a theory but equality as a fact and equality as a result. For the task is to give 20 million Negroes the same chance as every other American to learn and grow, to work and share in society, to develop their abilities—physical, mental and spiritual, and to pursue their individual happiness. To this end equal opportunity is essential, but not enough. Men and women of all races are born with the same range of abilities. But ability is not just the product of birth. Ability is stretched or stunted by the family that you live with, and the neighborhood you live in—by the school you go to and the poverty or the richness of your surroundings. It is the product of a hundred unseen forces playing upon the little infant, the child, and finally the man. (quoted in Lipset 1992, p. 56, italics are added)

From an educational standpoint, the War on Poverty was critical for alleviating non-school problems. However, the Great Society programs, such as fair housing,

improved healthcare and civic services, job training, social rehabilitation, and family

guidance, were very complex and difficult to implement, given the scope of the problem

of urban poverty (see O’Connor 2001 for a detailed discussion). Also, the features of the

ghetto life in the North had taken decades to develop and thus required a considerable

period of time, perhaps an entire generation or two, to reverse. In contrast, the racial integration of the schools could be achieved more quickly and easily. Moreover, the potential slowness of the War on Poverty made racially mixed schools all the more important because such schools could have near- and middle-term positive effects on the life chances of poor black children. Thus, it was critical to push for comprehensive school desegregation as the War on Poverty ensued at a slower pace.

However, the only way to achieve meaningful levels of racial mixing in the North was to go against the localist tradition in American public education and to undo the concept of the neighborhood school, because students had to be transported across racially homogenous neighborhoods. This would not only ensure equal education for blacks in tangible terms, since, as in the South, whites would attend the same schools as blacks, but also break the norms of racial caste by enabling interracial contact. Together,

these two goals served another, perhaps more important, underlying goal uniquely

beneficial for poor black children: to improve the capacity of the public schools to

counteract non-school disadvantages associated with ghetto poverty. This goal has been

acknowledged neither by scholars of desegregation nor by policy makers or experts.

Once the traditional link between the schools and their neighborhoods was broken in a given district, the average school serving poor black students could function more

effectively as the great equalizer that it was meant to be; it could help needy students

perform better despite the economic, neighborhood, and family problems outside the

school. In other words, the average school could facilitate equal start for impoverished

children.

Student transportation had been implemented to a limited degree in the South and

was popularly referred to as “busing.” But, busing was not a readily available remedy in

the North. The Civil Rights Act’s explicit restriction, discussed earlier, on student

transportation as a possible integration device was largely motivated by the Northern

concern regarding possible demands by the NAACP for busing to be used to desegregate

the North (Orfield 1975, 1978). Given this restriction, the NAACP had to push even

harder to legalize busing. Basically, more specific and sweeping Supreme Court rulings

were needed. However, at the same time that the NAACP was working towards such progress, the bottom-up source of opportunity for open contention began to decline because of a gradual shift in the attitudes and support of Northern whites regarding black demands.

2.3.2. Initial decline in the opportunity for manifest conflict around school

desegregation

Urban riots and the 1966 midterm elections

Paradoxically, the Civil Rights Act was signed at a time when the fissures in the

civil rights movement were becoming major cleavages. A number of activists had been

questioning the effectiveness of the non-violent approach that the NAACP, SCLC and

other mainstream civil rights SMOs had embraced. For leaders like Malcom X and

Stokely Carmichael, the decade-long resistance to Brown, the enduring poverty in the

Northern ghettos, the unabating violence against blacks in the South, and major clashes

such as in Birmingham, Alabama, indicated the failure rather than the success of non- violent direct action (Herbers 1970). These leaders believed that it was time to express black demands by means of violence where necessary. Their message struck a chord with many poor blacks in the North who were becoming increasingly aware of the fact that recent civil rights victories benefited a very small percentage of middle-class

Negroes while their predicament remained the same or worsened (Clark 1965). Legal

freedom did not remove the historically accumulated obstacles to movement out of

poverty. In a notable survey, Brink and Harris (1967) found that while 70 percent of the

black population said they had seen some progress, only 29 percent of lower-class blacks

did. In the specific case of jobs, only 24 percent of poor blacks felt they were better off,

compared with 54 percent of blacks overall.

A new insurgent ethic was growing, captured by the phrase “Black Power” and

centered in racial solidarity, pride, and self-affirmation, rather than universal brotherhood

and Christian love (Carmichael and Hamilton 1967). In this new nationalistic

perspective, reliance on white help and sympathy were no longer regarded as necessary

for black progress. In addition, the inherently slow pace of the War on Poverty made that reform effort look to many among the poor like a tokenistic and incremental rather than a wholehearted, radical commitment to alleviating the deep and urgent problems of the ghetto (Killian 1975).

Violent factions had been finding opportunities to spread their influence and garner support for their methods even before the passage of the Civil Rights Act (see

Feagin and Hahn 1973). In July 1964, days before the Act was signed into law, a race

riot was triggered in Harlem, New York by the fatal shooting of a 14 year-old black

youth by an off duty white police officer. Two people were killed, hundreds were

injured, and looting continued for days. Before the month was over, another riot broke

out in Rochester, New York as a result of racially motivated police brutality, leading to

four deaths and nearly 400 injuries. Police brutality also sparked a riot in August in

Philadelphia, where no one died, but angry mobs destroyed dozens of white businesses

and residential property. Movement leaders who prescribed violence played a key role in

all three riots.

The most notable riot and the one that attracted the most comprehensive media

coverage until that point occurred in August 1965 in the Watts area of Los Angeles.

Once again, police brutality was the trigger. For nearly a week, $35 million in

destruction of property occurred, 34 people died, 1,032 were injured, and over 4,000 were

arrested. This was the first time the violent factions breaking away from the mainstream

of the civil rights movement demonstrated the extent of their influence before a national

audience (Wright, Jr. 1967). The message was that “as long as blacks were wronged by

whites, and the economic and social problems in the ghettos continued, the nation should

brace itself for more violence” (Wills 1968, p. 45). The summer of 1965 also witnessed

riots in Chicago and Springfield, Massachusetts that resembled the Watts battlefield.

The violent turn in the fight for black equality graphically exposed the needs of

the ghetto and forced Northern whites to heed the plight of poor blacks. Inevitably, it

also triggered a backlash. Public opinion among liberal and moderate whites, whose

support and sympathy had been pivotal in expanding the opportunity for manifest

struggle for school desegregation and other racial reforms, began to turn conservative

(McAdam 1982; Bloom 1986). Besides the resentment towards violence, many whites began to grasp the personal inconvenience they would have to bear in order to integrate their schools, re-zone their neighborhoods, tolerate racially open and fair housing,

improve city and social services, and fund the rest of the Great Society programs through

their tax dollars (Sitkoff 1993). The social and economic cost of remedying de facto

segregation was no less than that of remedying de jure segregation. Ultimately, certain

privileges had to be sacrificed. When that realization hit the white masses in the North

and the West, positive views on the War on Poverty weakened, undermining the thrust

for federal policies designed to resolve non-school problems right from the outset.

Resistance to remedying school problems was even swifter. When civil rights

groups attempted to use the Civil Rights Act to initiate school desegregation in large city

school systems, they met with resistance as sharp as it was in the South. Their experience

in Chicago was particularly telling. In July 1965, the Civil Rights Confederation of

Chicago (CRCF) submitted an official complaint to the Office of Education in

Washington, D.C. , claiming not only that the schools were overwhelmingly segregated

(over 90 percent of the black children attended all-black and educationally inferior

schools), but that the segregation resulted from intentional racially motivated policies of

the school board. The complaint argued that the school board worked with the Chicago

Real Estate Board and public housing authorities to establish segregated schools (Orfield

1969). The CRCF wanted to get the federal government to cut off aid funds to Chicago

as a first step in initiating the reform, which would gradually move toward student

transportation. At first, the Office of Education espoused Title VI of the Civil Rights Act

and withheld $32 million from the Chicago public schools. However, public groups and

city officials remained defiant. Mayor Richard J. Daley, who was regarded as the “boss

of Chicago,” was a well-connected Democrat, whose support had been critical in getting

John F. Kennedy elected President in 1960 (Biles 1995). His attack on the Office of

Education quickly reversed the federal agency’s decision to withhold funds (Peterson

1976). As various local civil rights groups and the NAACP pressed on, white

Chicagoans undertook public demonstrations and protested throughout the summer.

Mayor Dailey accused the reformers of being Communists, a charge often used against

the NAACP in the South (Patterson 2001).

As racial tension mounted, President Johnson feared of another intense race riot.

He did not wish to alienate the Democratic Party’s white voter base in Illinois either.

Therefore, he sent the HEW Undersecretary Wilbur Cohen to Chicago to broker a deal.

The Chicago schools agreed only to investigate school attendance boundaries and to

proceed in good faith to eliminate racial inequality in education. Given these token

promises, the first and the most significant effort to desegregate the Northern schools was

thwarted. Civil rights leader Al Raby saw the reversal as a blatant surrender:

We are shocked at this shameless display of naked political power exhibited by Mayor Daley in intervening at the highest level not to bring Chicago into compliance with the Civil Rights Act, but to demand Federal funds regardless of how they are to be used. Mayor Daley ostensibly supported the Civil Rights Act and all the Democratic Congressmen from Illinois … voted for it. Yet they are the first to squeal like stuck pigs when the bill is enforced in the North. (quoted in Orfield 1969, p. 196)

The Chicago experience conveyed the difficulty of achieving educational equality

in the North. It also brought the entire federal enforcement machinery to a halt as far as

Northern desegregation was concerned. The extent of the opposition to replacing the

neighborhood schools with integrated schools was exposed. Middle- and working-class

whites in the Northern cities with significant black populations, such as Detroit,

Cleveland, Buffalo, Boston, New York, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Columbus,

Indianapolis, Denver, and as far West as Seattle began to consider the threat to their

educational privileges (Kluger 1976; Orfield 1978). The growing negative sentiment was

further aggravated by four more urban race riots in 1966—San Francisco, Milwaukee,

Dayton, and Cleveland, where dozens died, thousands were injured, and millions of

dollars in property damage occurred. In Cleveland, it took 2,200 Ohio National

Guardsmen to quell the violence and restore order (Miller and Wheeler 1997).

The declining white support for black equality manifested itself most profoundly

in the 1966 midterm elections. The Republican candidates effectively blamed the

disorder on the Democrats and exploited Northern white fears of school desegregation

and other racial reforms to win 47 Congressional seats, most of which had been held by

liberal Democrats. This was nearly 25 percent more than the number of seats the

Democrats had won from the Republicans two years earlier. The tide of public opinion

had turned, indicating the growing decline in the bottom-up source of opportunity for open contention around school desegregation and other racial reforms. Although the

Democratic Party maintained a clear majority in Congress, top-down opportunity also showed signs of wearing down because, several liberal Democrats—especially those representing districts likely to face pressure for school desegregation—began to mimic their Southern counterparts when it came to the issue of civil rights. Many Northern

Congressmen and Senators voted to limit HEW’s budget to fund school desegregation programs and to push the agency to accept freedom-of-choice policies as sufficient for

desegregation. These attempts were eventually blocked by President Johnson (Orfield

1978).

More race riots and Lyndon B. Johnson’s troubled last two years

By 1967, non-violent civil rights SMOs such as CORE, SCLC, and NAACP were losing popularity, and Black Power had gained considerable clout. The civil rights

movement was hopelessly splintered. The violent approach appealed to even some of the

most traditionally non-violent SMOs, such as the SNCC. Violent acts also began to

aspire to ultra-leftist ideologies. Some black radicals described the riots as calculated

revolutionary violence to overthrow the “white capitalist rule” and compared the urban unrest to the colonial rebellions in Africa and Asia (Feagin and Hahn 1973).

The riots put enormous pressure on President Johnson, who knew that his War on

Poverty was losing support much faster than expected. He also suffered in terms of popularity due to the escalating war in Vietnam. Liberals were critical of his choice to go to war; conservatives disapproved of the way he managed the war; civil rights activists argued that the resources allocated to the war should be used to fund the Great Society programs (Goodwin 1977). In addition, Johnson found it increasingly difficult to relate to key civil rights leaders such as Martin Luther King, Jr. While the violent radicals considered him an enemy, mainstream activists and SMOs refused to collaborate with him unless he did more to ameliorate the structural conditions of poverty that precipitated the riots. “As I see it,” the President confided to an aide, “I have moved the Negro from

D+ to C-. He is still nowhere. He knows it. And that’s why he is still out in the streets.

Hell, I’d be there too” (quoted in Sitkoff 1993, p. 190).

No riot was bloodier than Newark’s, which had the nation’s highest rates of black

joblessness, condemned housing, crime, new cases of tuberculosis, and maternal

mortality (Fogelson 1971). The arrest and the rumored death of a black taxi driver

immediately triggered looting, followed by several arsons. The police and the National

Guard began using live ammunition, killing nearly 30 blacks and wounding over 1,200.

Over 1,300 rounds of ammunition were used and nearly 1,300 people arrested to stop the

violence. Soon, a similar riot broke out in Detroit, where nearly 4,000 fires destroyed

nearly 1,500 buildings. The devastation left 5,000 homeless and an equal number

jobless. Hovering over the city in a helicopter, the Governor of Michigan remarked that

Detroit looked like “a city that had been bombed.” A total of 43 people died and nearly

2,000 were wounded. The cost of damaged property amounted to $250 million (Fogelson

1971).

In July 1967, President Johnson appointed the National Advisory Commission

on Civil Disorders to conduct inquiries regarding the root causes of the ghetto riots and

propose solutions. Also known as the Kerner Commission—because it was chaired by

Illinois Governor Otto Kerner, Jr.—the group found that, although several “spark factors”

were involved, such as police brutality or hate crimes by private citizens, the riots originated from “the unfulfilled hopes and expectations aroused by the great judicial and legislative victories of the civil rights movement and the dramatic struggle for equal

rights in the South” (Kerner Commission 1988, p. 2). A “system of apartheid”—a

powerful mixture of poverty, unemployment, hunger, slum housing, and segregated

education caused by white racism—provided the basic circumstances that stimulated

violence.18 “Our nation,” the report concluded, “is moving toward two societies, one black, one white—-separate and unequal” (p. 4). It recommended the creation of two million jobs in the ghetto (mostly in the manufacturing sector), a resolute attack on housing segregation, the construction of six million new public housing units, and the creation of a national system of income supplementation.

These were the sort of remedies that resonated with President Johnson’s vision of the Great Society. They were also critical means to progress in improving non-school conditions for poor black children. However, the white backlash did not allow the

President to take decisive action on those recommendations. In fact, he never fully endorsed them (Goodwin 1977). Instead, he had to focus much of his attention to the war in Vietnam and the downturn in the economy. The issue of civil rights had lost its priority on the Presidential agenda. However, Johnson did one thing that proved crucial for progress in racial equality in general and school desegregation in particular. In mid-

1967, he nominated Thurgood Marshall to the Supreme Court. He had appointed

Marshall U.S. Solicitor General in 1965. The Democratic majority in the House quickly confirmed Marshall, who became the fist black Supreme Court Justice in U.S. history.

Beyond Marshall’s accomplishments and stature, Johnson reasoned that it was important to maintain a Supreme Court friendly to civil rights.

The presidency of Richard M. Nixon and the end of the Second Reconstruction

Mainstream civil rights activists and SMOs had been looking for ways to end the

urban unrest and salvage the splintered civil rights movement. Martin Luther King, Jr.

18 Kerner Commission’s report was also the first federal document that provided an official definition of the term “ghetto:” an area within a city characterized by poverty and acute social disorganization, and inhabited by members of a racial or ethnic group under conditions of involuntary segregation.

outlined the social and economic problems of blacks and the dangers of failed

improvement efforts by the federal government in his last book, Where Do We Go from

Here? Chaos or Community? (1967). Two years earlier, Bayard Rustin, a key intellectual leader in the movement, had made a similar effort in his classic From Protest to Politics (1965). In early 1968, King issued a call for a Poor People’s Campaign to (1) force the nation’s ruling elite as well as the ordinary white Americans to do more for the

War on Poverty, and (2) bring the violent factions back under the umbrella of the mainstream civil rights movement (Marable 1984; Weisbrot 1990). The Campaign would involve large-scale non-violent direct action as well as formal political efforts, such as legislative lobbying, to expand, reinvigorate, and speed up the Great Society plan.

In March, he interrupted his work and traveled to Memphis, Tennessee to support a strike by the city’s black sanitation workers. On April 3, he was assassinated.

The resulting wave of riots was unprecedented. Violence broke out almost simultaneously in more than a dozen Northern cities, resulting in 46 deaths, over 3,000 injuries, nearly 30,000 arrests, and a total of $45 million in property damage. The events further undermined support and sympathy of the middle- and working-class whites for racial equality. Instead of “Equality NOW!” which hundreds of thousands had chanted in the streets four years earlier, the common slogan became “Law and Order!” Bottom-up opportunity for openly challenging unfair racial inequality and implementing remedial reforms was now much lower than it had ever been in the 1960s.

The legislative and executive branches of the federal government also showed more pronounced signs of conservatism. Southern Congressmen inserted a directive in the HEW appropriations to get the agency to investigate Northern school segregation. As

Orfield (1978) notes, “The Southerners had always said that the politics of school

desegregation would change when the North was forced to desegregate” (p. 247). They

were right. Given the transformed sentiment in the nation, Southern law makers now

wanted to aggravate their Northern counterparts in hopes of gaining support for future

legislation to reverse all major desegregation programs. Despite its ulterior motive,

though, this move gave the NAACP a brief chance to openly challenge localism and the

concept of the neighborhood school in the North. The organization quickly filed complaints and law suits regarding segregated schooling in more than two dozen large-

city school systems (Marcus and Stickney 1981).

By far, the greatest change in the degree of top-down opportunity in 1968

occurred as a result of the presidential elections. Given his declining popularity,

President Johnson chose not to run for a second term. Another likely Democratic

candidate, Robert F. Kennedy, who did run, was assassinated in June. These two events,

along with the growing concern for civil disorder, significantly helped the campaign of

the leading Republican candidate, Richard M. Nixon, who had lost to John F. Kennedy

eight years earlier. This time, Nixon skillfully channeled white anxieties regarding recent

black demands into active support for federal policies that would protect the class

privileges of whites (O’Reilly 1995). He was openly against busing students for school

desegregation and massive federal expenditures to achieve Johnson’s Great Society. In

other words, he was against much needed policies to alleviate both school and non-school

disparities that affected poor black children. He also conveyed a strong sense of punitive

authority by promising to take a hardliner approach in preventing the urban riots. He

embraced a sharply conservative rhetoric suggesting that many components of the War

on Poverty were tantamount to rewarding criminal behavior, that poverty and squalor did

not cause the riots, that agitators preying on the idle were to blame, and that the ultimate

cause was the dominant ethos of liberal permissiveness, which encouraged black avarice

and aggressiveness. This message resonated well with many whites both in the North

and the South, even with many who would normally identify themselves as liberal

(O’Reilly 1995).

Nixon won by a thin margin over his staunchly desegregationist Democratic

rival, Vice President Hubert H. Humphrey. The Republican Party also gained five

Congressional and seven Senate seats. Although the Democrats continued to control both

chambers of the House, the conservative trend had gained sufficient momentum. Many

Congressional and Senate Democrats quickly distanced themselves from the Party’s civil

rights cause for good (Orfield 1975). There was now a much stronger unity among the ruling elite of the nation against further progress in race relations. The original

alignment between the Democratic Party and the black struggle for equality weakened.

Civil rights SMOs could no longer depend on the Congress, the Senate, or the President

the same way they did in earlier years. Blacks would never recover from the decline in

the top-down opportunity for manifest conflict.

President Nixon advocated freedom-of-choice policies for school desegregation

and adamantly opposed federal cutoffs of funds to segregated school districts, in the

North or the South (Orfield 1978). He said it was “dangerous … to force a local

community to carry out what a Federal administrator or bureaucrat may think is best for

that local community” (quoted in New York Times 1968, September 13, p. 4). Such

Presidential statements were the first signs pending federal policies to protect the localist

tradition in American public education and thus to perpetuate the concept of the

neighborhood school. Nixon’s stance even encouraged the South to slow school desegregation down. Most importantly, Nixon promised to appoint conservative

Supreme Court judges because he believed, rightly so, that the Court’s rulings favoring

desegregation would keep alive the hope and the effort to achieve comprehensive racial

equality in public education (Marcus and Stickney 1981).

A few months prior to the presidential elections in 1968, the Supreme Court had

issued an important ruling that ensured progress in desegregation in the South. In Green

v. County School Board of New Kent County, Virginia, the NAACP had argued that the

freedom-of-choice plans adopted by the school board in1965 to comply with the Civil

Rights Act failed to produce meaningful levels of integration in a district that was one-

half black. Eighty-five percent of the black students still attended all-black schools. The

Court decided that “where there are reasonably available other ways, such as zoning,

promising speedier and more effective conversion to a unitary [integrated] school system,

freedom-of-choice is not acceptable” (quoted in Raffel 1998, p. 113). Justice Brennan,

who delivered the ruling, noted that choice-driven policies were too neutral and relied too

much on private citizen initiative, which was often insufficient to overcome traditional

social biases, fear of hostility, and undue influence by school officials. These factors

kept integration at minimum levels and allowed unequal schools to continue. Green not

only helped keep Southern desegregation on course, but also exposed the inherent flaws

in Nixon’s favorite desegregation policy, namely freedom-of-choice. It was also the first

ruling where the Court ever voiced its opinion about how to achieve school

desegregation, as it explicitly mentioned “zoning”—which meant altering school

catchment boundaries—as a possible solution. Although Green fell short of specifying

busing as a remedy, the Court, with Thurgood Marshall now holding a seat, showed a

clear sign of positive and active involvement in racial equality for the first time in 13

years—since, that is, Brown II.

2.3.3. Stalemates in school desegregation in a time of declining political opportunity

for manifest conflict

By the end of the 1960s, only the legislative corners of the federal diamond,

namely the Supreme Court, appeared friendly to black demands. White unhappiness with

race-related demands was also at an all time high, with several Gallup polls showing

between 60 and 75 percent disapproval of school desegregation and various other

progressive policies (McAdam 1982; Patterson 1986). In addition, the U.S. no longer

faced the same degree of international criticism about domestic race relations that it once

did. Essentially, racial disadvantage beyond legal discrimination proved too difficult to

remedy. For it required fundamental changes in the basic prerogatives of class rule in

American society, changes that exceeded the capacity of the civil rights movement. So,

as the focus of the movement shifted away from the South, blacks were gradually left

alone in their efforts. No longer was the opposition confined to a relatively small,

politically expendable portion of the population. The change in the composition of the

opposition is bluntly articulated by Killian (1975):

The white people who are now resisting the movement are not the ancient foe, the Southern whites. They are Jews, traditional liberal friends of blacks, now defending their middle-class suburban neighborhoods and their neighborhood schools. They are Americans of Irish, Italian, and Polish descent defending their labor unions, their neighborhood schools, and the imagined integrity of their neighborhoods. … And, there are, finally, the old American Protestants as well.” (p. 117)

The important characteristic shared by all these groups, according to McAdam (1982),

was that unlike the white South, they represented segments vital to the fortunes of both

major political parties. Therefore, it was inevitable for the enthusiasm of the national

political elite to decline for even symbolic actions favoring black interests. After a

turbulent decade of progress, the dominant group in race relations was once again starting

to assert its preventative power. In some ways, the nature of race relations was

reminiscent of what it had been at the end of the Reconstruction.

Consequently, the political opportunity structure regarding school desegregation

resembled in many ways that of the 1950s, both in terms of its top-down and bottom-up

properties. Any major change had to occur by means of litigation at the federal courts

and, when necessary, at the Supreme Court (Wasby 1993). Therefore, mainstream social

movement organizations like the NAACP, which continued to receive a mix of abundant

symbolic and limited substantive support, stuck to their knitting and began to develop

new legal strategies. There were, however, three important differences in the new

environment. First, progress in the 1960s had made available several legal tools—such

as Brown, Green, the Civil Rights Act, and ESEA—as well as various federal agencies,

such as the Office for Civil Rights and U.S. Civil Rights Commission—for the NAACP

to draw on in its push for school desegregation despite the resistance.

The other two changes were debilitating in nature. One had to do with the

pending changes in the Supreme Court. A total of four judges in the Court were coming

up for retirement, which would give President Nixon a rare chance to reshape the Court

by nominating conservative judges, as he had promised during his election campaign.

U.S. presidents typically get to nominate up to one or two Supreme Court judges during

their tenure; most never get a chance to nominate a judge at all (Schwartz 1993). Nixon’s

potential judicial appointments threatened the momentum for school desegregation at its

core.

Another problem was that there was a growing social class split within the black

community itself, a split that undermined the popular support among blacks for some of

the policies championed by the NAACP, such as school desegregation in the North. As

middle-class and upwardly mobile working-class blacks took advantage of the new legal

freedoms in the labor and housing markets, and in the educational domain, they grew

more distant towards the problems of poor blacks (Clark 1965; Carmichael and Hamilton

1967; Wilson 1978, 1987; Bloom 1986). Some took advantage of the access to

previously all-white schools nearby where they lived. Many others left traditional black

residential areas in large cities for the more privileged inner-ring suburban areas, which

had been inaccessible in earlier decades due to explicit housing discrimination (Massey

and Denton 1993). The affluent black exodus created racial integration in some suburbs,

but segregation continued in the majority of the suburbs because racial biases in the

housing market extended well into the suburban locations (Bartlett 1993; Katz 1993;

Bonastia 2006).

Regardless of their racial composition, though, the suburbs offered affluent

blacks a socio-economically homogenous context comparable to that enjoyed by many

whites. Most importantly, a growing number of affluent blacks disfavored key remedies

in school desegregation, such as busing, because they preferred to protect their hard-

earned class privileges in public education just as the majority of whites did (Clotfelter

1976; Orfield 1978). The quality and effectiveness of their neighborhood schools were

now better than those of the schools in most other black neighborhoods. Thus, affluent blacks now had a natural disincentive to actively support and sympathize with the

NAACP’s goal of full integration by means of student transportation across neighborhoods. In other words, the NAACP increasingly lacked the wholehearted backing of the most politically efficacious segment of the black community when it came to undoing unfair educational inequality for poor black children. Therefore, as the 1960s

came to a close, the subordinate group in race relations was vertically less integrated.

Judicial progress versus executive, legislative, and popular resistance

Nixon made his first appointment to the Supreme Court in 1969 by replacing

Earl Warren with Warren E. Burger as Chief Justice. Burger was a solid, though not an

ideological, conservative with a strong Republican record. He had played a key role in

Eisenhower’s nomination in the Republican convention of 1952 and had served as

Assistant Attorney General in the Eisenhower administration (Schwartz 1993). Nixon

hoped the Burger court would begin to turn the clock back on the rulings of the Warren

court. But, the opposite happened. Burger favored judicial continuity and autonomy at

the Supreme Court, and moved to enforce rather than impede the Warren court’s earlier

mandate regarding school desegregation. On October 29, 1969, a year after Green, the

Court delivered another ruling that reinforced Brown. In Alexander v. Holmes County

Board of Education, the Court unanimously ruled that it was illegal for 33 Mississippi

school districts to postpone desegregation until September 1970 as requested by the

Nixon administration. Specifically, the Court abandoned Brown II’s notion of “all

deliberate speed,” and decided that it was “the obligation of every school district to

terminate dual school systems at once and to operate now and hereafter only unitary

schools” (quoted in Raffel 1998, p. 9-10, italics are added).

Like Green, Alexander fell short of specifying busing as a remedy to segregated

schooling. Yet, it amplified the glimmer of hope given by the Green ruling and

emboldened the NAACP attorneys, who had already expanded their attack on segregated

schooling a year earlier thanks ironically to Southern Congressmen’s pressure on HEW to

investigate Northern school segregation. In a matter of months, the NAACP demanded

over 50 Northern school districts to desegregate “immediately,” as mandated by

Alexander (Jones 1979). Once again, it was apparent that the Supreme Court was

prepared to issue rulings favoring school desegregation, as it did in Brown, in the face of

Presidential opposition, lack of active support from the Congress and the Senate, and

increasingly fierce public criticism.

While the Court and the NAACP pushed for school desegregation, Nixon

became a symbol of federal anti-desegregation activity. In order to reinforce the support

of his newly found voter base for whom busing was a major political issue, Nixon made a

public statement on a primetime TV broadcast devoted entirely to his opposition to

busing. On March 24, 1970, he said that “extreme” demands “have raised widespread

fears that the nation might face a massive disruption of public education: that wholesale

compulsory busing may be ordered and the neighborhood school virtually doomed”

(Nixon 1971, p. 305, italics are added). There had never been as sharp a difference

between the attitudes of the President and the Supreme Court regarding school

desegregation since the beginning of the modern struggle for racial equality. Nixon

pressured the Justice Department to back away from investigating school segregation.

He also exerted considerable influence over the Senate to support a proposed amendment

to ESEA, an amendment that allowed the 1965 Act to apply in the North the same way

that it had in the South. Similar to a Congressional move two years earlier, this was a

Senatorial move to get Northern support to slow and eventually block Southern

desegregation (Orfield 1975, 1978).

Presidential policies also restrained the federal government’s commitment to

Great Society programs that would have improved non-school conditions for poor black

children. Rather than follow the course counseled by his domestic advisor, the

sociologist Daniel P. Moynihan, to behave with “benign neglect” on the race issue, Nixon

greatly reduced the budgets and staffs of several offices and agencies designed to fund

and regulate the War on Poverty (O’Reilly 1995). With regard to many other progressive

economic and social programs, he adopted a policy of “non-enforcement.” Most notably,

his administration’s implementation of the fair housing laws—laws that had significant

long-term implications for school desegregation—was so lax that a report by the U.S.

Civil Rights Commission concluded that: “Present programs often are administered so as

to continue rather than reduce racial segregation” (quoted in Kluger 1976, p. 761). “It

appears,” Moynihan contended at the time, “that the nation may be in the process of

reproducing the tragic events of the Reconstruction: giving to Negroes the form of legal

equality but withdrawing the economic and political resources which are the bases of

social equality” (quoted in Killian 1975, p. 132).

At a time when the NAACP’s increased efforts to desegregate Northern and

Western school systems strained race relations further in many cities, Nixon made his

second Supreme Court appointment. In late 1970 he nominated Harry A. Blackmun, who

was a lifelong moderate Republican. While Blackmun had little experience with race-

related cases and specialized in tax law, his affiliation with the “center” of the Republican

Party helped him get his nomination. However, many consider Blackmun one of the

worst choices that Nixon made to fulfill his vision of a conservative Court because, over

the years, Blackmun would drift away from the conservative agenda and vote liberal on

many issues (Schwartz 1993).

Still committed to school desegregation, the Supreme Court struck another

unanimous blow to the Nixon administration in 1971. In Swann v. Charlotte-

Mecklenburg Board of Education, the Court not only alluded to the inherent flaws of the concept of the neighborhood school, but also specified busing as a remedy. Although a

Southern case, Swann radically altered the possibilities for desegregation in the North:

Absent a constitutional violation, there would be no basis for judicially ordering assignments of students on a racial basis. All things being equal, with no history of discrimination, it might well be desirable to assign pupils to schools nearest to their homes [neighborhood schools]. But all things are not equal in a system that has been deliberately constructed and maintained to enforce racial segregation. To remedy for such segregation may be administratively awkward, inconvenient, even bizarre in some situations and may impose burdens on some; but all awkwardness and inconvenience cannot be avoided in the interim period when remedial adjustments are being made to eliminate the dual school systems. … Desegregation plans need not always be limited to the walk-in school [since] bus transportation has been an integral part of the public school system for years. (quoted in Raffel 1998, p. 248)

The Court also held that pairing and clustering public schools across

noncontiguous segregated residential areas was a legitimate policy. This was the ruling

that the NAACP had been working for since the signing of the Civil Rights Act, one that

could easily be used to achieve results in favor of poor black children in the large cities of

the North and the West. According to Fiss (1994), Swann contained four other elements

that had implications for segregation outside the South. First, it openly spoke of the ill effects of past or “historically accumulated” discrimination, which applied effectively to contexts of de facto segregation. Second, it placed the burden—and it is a very

significant burden—of showing that school assignments that resulted in one-race schools

were non-discriminatory on the school district rather than on the plaintiffs. Third, it made school desegregation a top priority for the district rather than one consideration among many for the school board. And finally, it validated the use of race in student assignments when the goal is integration rather than segregation. In essence, Swann

inspired confidence among leading NAACP attorneys and other reformers not only that

manifest conflict around school desegregation could be maintained, but also that

meaningful results in terms of remedies could also be achieved.

Although Nixon had successfully delivered on his promise to clamp down on

rioting and racial violence,19 he had failed, as of 1972, to soothe mainstream white

anxiety over school desegregation. To this end, he did a number of things that year

(Douglas 1994a). First, he added a provision in the Emergency School Aid Act (ESAA)

to ban the use of federal funds for busing. HEW had designed ESAA to fund the

desegregation-related costs of districts in the South, but the wording was not region-

specific; so the Act could have been used to fund desegregation in the North. Next,

Nixon proposed the Equal Educational Opportunities Act (EEOA), which involved a constitutional amendment to prohibit busing “beyond the neighborhood school.” He also proposed the Student Transportation Moratorium, which would have stopped the federal

courts from ordering busing until the Congress considered the EEOA. The Congress

19 No major riots occurred in the early 1970s. Physical hostility became more and more limited to the isolated acts of ultra-violent groups such as the Black Panthers, who engaged in several shootouts with the FBI. Such groups also lost their visibility by the middle of the decade.

passed the EEOA, but the Senate blocked it. Many among the ruling elite as well as the

ordinary public considered a constitutional amendment too radical a measure against

school desegregation. An opinion poll by the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights at the

time indicated that, although 57 percent favored a law to prohibit busing, only 30 percent

favored constitutional changes (quoted in Orfield 1978, p. 248).

A few months later, Nixon nominated his last two picks for the Supreme Court,

Lewis F. Powell, Jr. and William H. Rehnquist. Although a moderate, Powell, Jr. was a

Southerner with a unique administrative and legal experience pertaining to the era of

open resistance to Brown (Schwartz 1993). He was an accomplished Virginia lawyer who had served as the Chairman of the Richmond School Board from 1952 to 1961, presiding over the school system during Virginia’s “massive resistance.” Also, his law firm had represented the defendant school district in Davis v. Prince Edward County,

which was one of the five cases eventually consolidated under Brown. Though Powell,

Jr. had refrained from any personal involvement in Davis, Nixon considered him a potential ally in reversing the liberal tone of the Supreme Court. In later years Powell,

Jr. would prove to be a genuine “centrist” in the court, often working diligently for consensus and compromise.

Rehnquist, on the other hand, was a staunch conservative, particularly with regard to the issue of civil rights (Tucker 1995). When serving as a clerk for Supreme

Court justice Robert H. Jackson during the Brown hearings, Rehnquist had written a memo titled “A Random Thought on the Segregation Cases,” bemoaning the possibility of the Court’s reading its own social values into the Constitution by considering to outlaw racial segregation:

Urging a view palpably at variance with precedent and probably with legislative history, appellants seek to convince the Court of the moral wrongness of the treatment they are receiving. I would submit that this is a question that the court need never reach. … If this Court, because its members individually are “liberals” and dislike segregation, now chooses to strike it down, it differs from the McReynolds court only in the kinds of litigants it favors and the kinds of special claims it protects. … I realize that it is an unpopular and unhumanitarian position, for which I have been excoriated by “liberal” colleagues, but I think Plessy v. Ferguson was right and should be affirmed. (quoted in Kluger 1976, p. 608-9)

This memo, along with his close relationship with the “traditionalist” wing of the

Republican Party, gave Rehnquist a hard time during his confirmation hearings (Schwartz

1993; Tucker 1995). But, given the Congressional and Senatorial mood toward school desegregation at the time, Rehnquist was eventually confirmed. Northern Congressmen and Senators from states such as Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Colorado, and Delaware, where many districts were involved in school desegregation litigation or were facing that possibility, played a critical role in Rehnquist’s confirmation by collaborating with their

heavy-weight conservative Republican counterparts such as John Ashbrook of Ohio,

Jessie Helms of North Carolina, and Edward Gurney of Florida (Orfield 1978). Both

legislative branches of the federal government were in tune with the public resentment

over busing for integration purposes.

Nixon was re-elected in 1972 with a 23.3 percent margin of victory, the largest

such margin in Presidential history. In the same elections the Democratic Party lost 13

more Congressional seats to the Republicans, but gained two Senate seats. Despite the

conservative trend, though, the Supreme Court was about to issue another significant

ruling that favored school desegregation, a ruling that built on Swann, but addressed

Northern segregation in particular.20 In Keyes v. Denver School District No. 1, the Court

addressed for the first time the affirmative obligations of school districts operating in the context of de facto residential segregation. Denver was a typical large Northern city

where unfair educational inequality closely tracked separate housing, which remained entrenched due to black poverty as well as the weak-enforcement and ultimately the non- enforcement of fair housing laws. Black students in the Park Hill area—the city’s ghettoized core—attended separate neighborhood schools that were both tangibly and

intangibly unequal. The NAACP effectively argued that, instead of pursuing feasible

integration strategies, local officials had rigged the Park Hill area catchment zones and

school construction locations in order to confine its children to racially isolated schools

(Douglas 1994b). Civil rights groups had used this argument to expose similar practices

elsewhere in the North (Anderson 1988), most notably during the unsuccessful attempt to

desegregate Chicago public schools in 1965. This time, the NAACP had compiled

substantial evidence to show that the Denver school board had relied on gerrymandering

techniques, mobile classroom units, and “optional zones” (where white students living in

or adjacent to predominantly black neighborhoods were allowed to opt out of their

neighborhood schools) to limit the chances for racial integration. In addition to their

educational ill effects, these practices tended to aggravate rather than work against

housing segregation.

In response, the school board argued that it simply had been implementing its

racially neutral “neighborhood school policy” by accommodating the community’s

schooling needs and locations given the racial compositions of the various

20 Outside the South and the Border States, only 28 percent of black children were attending majority-white schools as of late 1972 (Irons 2002).

neighborhoods. This approach basically blamed key non-school problems, such as

residential racial isolation and economic deprivation, to explain school problems. As

noted earlier, generations of racial bias in the housing market and the rising level of

unemployment among poor blacks were central forces that drove ghetto poverty; and,

low family socioeconomic status and neighborhood quality severely afflicted the

educational and other prospects of poor black children (Coleman et al. 1966). Yet, city

officials could easily and, in part, correctly, claim that segregated schooling was a result

of prevailing “housing preferences” as well as the economic inability of Park Hill

residents to relocate to more affluent areas of Denver where their children could attend

better schools. After all, the school board had no official control over economic and

residential policies. In addition, the board’s argument was technically efficient in that,

although genuine educational equality for poor black children ultimately required

remedying both school and non-school problems, the latter set of problems was not

subject to litigation. Given the changing national priorities concerning the War on

Poverty, there was also much less local and federal commitment than there was in the mid-1960s to reversing the residential and economic dimensions of ghetto poverty. As a

matter of fact, Denver was only one among several large city school systems that shifted

the responsibility for racially separate and unequal schooling to allegedly “natural”

circumstances (Orfield 1979) despite the historically accumulated occupational, residential, and educational disadvantages of poor blacks.

In one of its most technically sophisticated rulings, the Supreme Court decided that the school board could have prevented the degree of segregation by using positive initiative over the years in its decisions regarding school locations, student transportation,

school renovations and additions, as well as student assignment and transfer options. The

consistent failure to use such initiative, even though the failure had affected a limited

segment of the district, namely Park Hill, was a constitutional violation, which obliged

the district “to desegregate the entire system root and branch” (quoted in Raffel 1998, p.

140, italics are added).

Considerations of “fairness” and “policy” demand no less in light of the Board’s intentionally segregative actions. If the respondent Board fails to rebut petitioner’s prima facie case, then the District must, as in the case of Park Hill, decree all-out desegregation of the core city schools. (quoted in Green, Jr. 2000, p. 306)

Since Swann had already sanctioned busing as a potential remedy and since there

was no way other than busing to achieve meaningful desegregation in Denver, Keyes

reaffirmed the constitutionality of undoing segregated neighborhood schools in large city

school systems by means of student transportation. The traditional link between the class

composition of a given neighborhood and the quality of its schools was therefore legally

broken. There were few, if any, loopholes left in the NAACP’s legal fight against

“separate but equal” outside the South. The ruling also made it easer for the NAACP to

prove intentional segregation because it treated acts of discrimination in various sections

of a district to justify the desegregation of the entire district. Previously, the plaintiffs

had to prove system-wide discrimination. It is likely that the Court wished to send a

message to the Nixon administration and the Congress, who had been pushing the Justice

Department to require plaintiffs in desegregation cases to prove discriminatory acts in

each and every school in order to claim intentional wrongdoing (Marcus and Stickney

1981). Finally, the Court explicitly mentioned Latino students in Denver as subject to

racial discrimination as well.

Keyes was a “dream come true” for the NAACP. It strengthened the

organization’s efforts in the ongoing desegregation cases in the district courts as well as

in the complaints that the NAACP had filed with HEW and the Justice Department. Civil

rights attorneys also filed a wave of new cases in several Northern cities before the end of

1973. By early 1974, there were very few large cities in the U.S. that did not face federal

or judicial pressure to desegregate (see Orfield 1983; Wilkinson III 1979; Rossell 1990;

Armor 1995 for a review). Many districts also beefed up their voluntary efforts (Rossell

and Howley 1983; Rossell 1990). However, Keyes also revealed the growing fractures

within the Supreme Court, as two of Nixon’s appointees broke with the tradition of

previous desegregation cases and officially dissented (Douglas 1994b). Powell, Jr.

argued that the distinction between de jure and de facto segregation had “outlived its

time” and that it was implausible to find a school district guilty under conditions of

widespread housing segregation as long as the school board showed “intent” to integrate.

Rehnquist was more direct. He objected to applying Green in the North. He was also

against the Court’s favoring the notion of “racial balance” in the schools over “racial

neutrality.”

2.3.4. Closing the door on school desegregation

The NAACP’s push and Supreme Court’s recent rulings had increased racial

polarization to the limit in several cities—although the tension did not turn into physical

violence as often as it had in the South. Whites typically protested by means of

organized public protests and legal initiatives led by local counter-movement

organizations, such as Denver’s Citizen’s Association for Neighborhood Schools or

Cleveland’s National Association for Neighborhood Schools. A Gallup poll in late 1973

indicated that while half the population favored racial integration, over 90 percent

(including a considerable proportion of affluent blacks) were against busing (cited in

Orfield 1978, p. 261). According to other Gallup polls, many people hoped or believed

that there was a better, more “natural” way to achieve integrated schools (Gallup Poll

Index 1973, 1975). The most frequently mentioned method was “to wait until housing

integration automatically produced integrated neighborhood schools.” However, national

policy encouraged neither housing integration in the cities, nor socioeconomic

improvement for poor blacks so as to enable mobility out of the ghettos. As a matter of

fact, the extent of poverty and isolation that occasioned the Great Society programs in the

mid-1960s had worsened in the last 10 years because of further declines in the size of the

urban manufacturing sector and the speedy retreat from fair housing (Wilson 1978). In

other words, non-school problems were rapidly intensifying.

Furthermore, school desegregation efforts had exacerbated the affluent flight to

the suburbs (Orfield 1978; Farley, Richards, and Wurdock 1980). Although many

prominent researchers argued at the time that the flight was white and that it was caused

largely by school desegregation itself (e.g., Coleman 1975; Coleman, Kelly, and Moore,

1975; Glazer 1975), more thorough analyses in later years showed that flight was bi-

racial (e.g., Clotfelter 2004) and that it had been going on since at least the mid-1950s

due to fundamental changes in the organization of metropolitan space (e.g., Katznelson

and Weir 1985; Massey and Denton 1993; Jargowsky 1997; Bonastia 2006).

Suburbanization was essentially a process in its own right, not a consequence of school

desegregation (Clotfelter 1976). Most affluent families, white and black, who could

afford to relocate to the suburbs had been doing so regardless of school desegregation—

black families more so after the Fair Housing Act of 1968 (Katz 1993). Desegregation

had merely speeded the exodus. The flight of whites from the cities was more extensive

than that of blacks mostly because of the higher class status of whites.21

Neither the decline in bottom-up opportunity, manifested in the form of severe

public opposition to school desegregation, nor the limited source of top-down opportunity

due to Presidential, Congressional, and Senatorial attitudes, restrained the efforts of the

NAACP. As long as the Supreme Court supported desegregation and the federal

machinery of enforcement complied with the Court’s rulings, separate and unequal

neighborhood schools could be openly contested and replaced with integrated schools. In

a sense, going against the tide of class privilege in public schooling had become ever

more important for the NAACP in remedying undue racial disparities because, in the

absence of progressive social, economic, and industrial policies targeting non-school

problems in the ghettos, the schools remained the only means by which to improve the

life chances of the majority of poor black children. As noted earlier, in addition to school

equalization in tangible terms and the moral benefits of racial contact were critical with

regard to the uniquely important goal of urban school desegregation—namely, to improve

the capacity of pubic schools to function as great equalizers that could counteract the

non-school disadvantages associated with ghetto poverty and facilitate equal start for

many poor black children. There was no way to pursue this goal other than by

challenging the localist tradition.

21 This, however, does not mean that race had no role in metropolitan housing patterns, since racial biases in the housing market extended well into the suburbs (Bartlett 1993; Katz 1993; Bonastia 2006). Racial preferences and attitudes continue to structure residential space regardless of class composition (Orfield 2002; Squires and Kubrin 2006).

However, in 1974, a series of Congressional bills and the Supreme Court’s ruling

in Milliken v. Bradley abruptly ended the ongoing stalemate with regard to school

desegregation. Keynes and Miller (1989) summarize the dynamics in the Congress and

Senate that year. First, Congress passed an amendment led by Republican Marvin Esch

of Michigan, limiting the extension of ESEA and reducing the amount of ESAA dollars for busing. The amendment also included a clause which stated that if busing is ordered by a court, students cannot be transported to a school beyond the one next closest to their home “unless the court determines that such busing is necessary to ensure the protection of constitutional rights.” Next, the Senate voted on a proposed amendment by Democrat

Birch Bayh of Indiana which prohibited desegregation plans that would cross city- suburban lines. It failed by a thin margin, but was followed by a similar yet less drastic bill co-drafted by Republican Hugh Scott of Michigan and Democrat Michael J.

Mansfield of Montana, which passed. Ironically, a subsequent amendment by

Republican Congresswoman Marjorie S. Holt of Maryland failed. It was designed to limit federal powers to collect racial data on the schools and to enforce desegregation

programs. Finally, Democratic Senator Lawton Chiles of Florida proposed the

Neighborhood Schools Act, which was designed to limit federal support for busing and to

“provide financial assistance to local agencies to strengthen neighborhood schools.” It passed.

It is important to note that most members of Congress and the Senate who led the efforts for the 1974 bills represented states and regions where court-ordered

”metropolitan” (city-suburban) busing plans were a substantial possibility. The NAACP had been pushing for metropolitan plans, given the increased suburbanization of the

predominantly white affluent population in recent years. And, the Supreme Court was

currently deliberating on the Milliken case from Detroit where a lower court judge had already ordered metropolitan busing, which made many in the Congress and the Senate,

as well as many residents of affluent suburbs across the nation very nervous. The

sponsors of the 1974 bills knew that, although their efforts would have little effect on the

courts, they would significantly weaken HEW’s and the Justice Department’s desegregation efforts and appease their suburban constituents. According to Orfield

(1978), the cumulative effect of the bills was to cut at least 20 percent of the funds to 41

of the largest school systems in the country at a time of rising inflation. In a heartfelt

plea, W. J. Bryan Dorn, Democratic Congressman from South Carolina, said that

tacking on antibusing amendments, trying to set up a special arrangement for the Northern metropolitan areas, is an exercise in futility; it is an attempt to preserve the outmoded, segregated neighborhood school system of the past. (quoted in Orfield 1978, p. 260)

Dorn was wrong, however, because the Supreme Court ensured the survival of the

neighborhood school concept in its Milliken ruling on July 25, 1974. The question in

Milliken was about what to do in Detroit city schools where blacks were in the majority.

Detroit was a striking example of several large Northern city school systems that were

becoming difficult to integrate due to heavy suburbanization. Whites had been leaving

the city in higher numbers since the early 1960s (Massey and Denton 1993). The 1967

race riot and constant pressures for school desegregation had aggravated the flight

(Clotfelter 1976). When the NAACP filed Milliken in 1970, the system was nearly 75 percent black and 133 of Detroit’s schools were racially identifiable (i.e., 90 percent or more black) (Orfield 1983). In 1971, the U.S. District Court for Eastern Michigan had held that meaningful desegregation could not be achieved within the city limits and that a

multi-district metropolitan plan was necessary, mixing 503,000 students, most of them

white, in 53 nearby suburban school districts (including one serving deluxe Gross Pointe)

with the city’s 276,000 mostly black students. Although the U.S. Court of Appeals

upheld the radical ruling, the Supreme Court rejected the metropolitan solution in a five-

to-four vote. While Nixon was forced to resign over the Watergate scandal and was

replaced by Vice President Gerald R. Ford in August, his strategy of appointing

conservative judges to the Court had finally paid off. The ruling emphasized the need to

protect localism:

No single tradition in public education is more deeply rooted than local control over the operation of schools; local autonomy has long been thought essential both to the maintenance of community concern and support for public schools and to quality of the educational process. (quoted in Douglas 1994b, p. 741)

Metropolitan busing was therefore considered unacceptable, unless the plaintiffs

could demonstrate that the suburbs or the state took deliberate actions that contributed to

segregation in the city. Proving such liability was extremely difficult, though, because it

often took the NAACP two-to-three years to prove intentional bias just within the

boundaries of a given city school system. Detroit had no option but to adopt a city-only

busing plan. Although the neighborhood schools in the city could be replaced with

integrated schools for a while, such a plan would eventually prove futile due to continued

suburbanization. The same was true of nearly all large city school systems in the North

and West. Once the majority of whites in an urban district suburbanized and the district

became predominantly black, citywide busing plans would become useless. In essence,

while Milliken did not prohibit urban school desegregation, it sealed its future by making

reform efforts vulnerable to affluent choices regarding place of residence and schooling.

Class distinctions in public education were to continue despite the consequences for the

majority of poor black students and despite the nationally cherished “great equalizer”

ideal of public schooling.

“Our parents moved out here into a good school district,” an affluent suburban

youth in the Detroit area asserted, “to give us a decent education. I wouldn’t mind having

[blacks] bused here, but I don’t like the fact of going way out my way and into a high

crime district” (interview footage from PBS’ 2001 TV show, School: The Story of

American Public Education). Others were against any form of inter-district

collaboration. “I don’t know how many kids could leave [urban schools] without

compromising [our] suburban schools. How far am I willing to go [on desegregation]?

Not real far,” an unusually frank parent said (quoted in Hochschild and Skovronick 2003,

p. 30). Apprehension was not rare among blacks either. “I don’t want to go up there,

where I am not welcome,” a black Detroit high school student reasoned. “I would like to

stay here at my own school” (interview footage from PBS’ 2001 TV show, School: The

Story of American Public Education). Of the four dissenting judges on the Supreme

Court, Thurgood Marshall was, unsurprisingly, the most critical of the majority opinion:

Desegregation is not and was never expected to be an easy task. Racial attitudes ingrained in our Nation's childhood and adolescence are not quickly thrown aside in its middle years. But just as the inconvenience of some cannot be allowed to stand in the way of the rights of others, so public opposition, no matter how strident, cannot be permitted to divert this Court from the enforcement of the constitutional principles at issue in this case. Today's holding, I fear, is more a reflection of a perceived public mood that we have gone far enough in enforcing the Constitution's guarantee of equal justice than it is the product of neutral principles of law. In the short run, it may seem to be the easier course to allow our great metropolitan areas to be divided up each into two cities—one white, the other black—but it is a course, I predict, our people will ultimately regret. I dissent. (quoted in Douglas 1994b, p. 814-5)

At the time when Milliken was issued, the NAACP was involved in pending court

cases in several major cities, such as Boston, Dallas, Dayton, Louisville, Cleveland,

Columbus, Springfield (Massachusetts), Racine (Wisconsin), Buffalo, Milwaukee,

Kansas City, and Saint Paul. Rulings had already been made in some of these cities, but

final desegregation plans had not been approved. Although the effort to integrate large

city school systems continued—and, in many cases, resulted in citywide busing—civil

rights lawyers knew the long-term implications of the Detroit ruling. Nathaniel Jones, a

top NAACP attorney, commented: “The Court has said to black people; ‘You have rights

but you don’t have a remedy.’ We are back in the same position as we were before Dred

Scott.” (quoted in Patterson 2001, p. 180).

Milliken, along with the weakened roles of HEW and the Justice Department in

pursuing desegregation, marked the beginning of the return to latent conflict with regard

to unfair educational inequality in America. Given the lack of support from any corner in

the federal diamond and the mainstream public resistance to desegregation, civil rights

activists and SMOs found it increasingly difficult to openly challenge separate and unequal neighborhood schools in large city school systems, let alone point to severe non-

school problems. As a matter of fact, the NAACP soon began to rely on defensive rather

than offensive strategies in order to ward off further federal attacks on school

desegregation (Wasby 1993). These defensive strategies were, however, moderately effective at best. For instance, in an effort to supplement Milliken, the Congress and the

Senate successfully passed two more bills in 1975 to end all HEW authority to order busing. In 1976, President Ford sponsored a bill that would terminate ongoing busing plans for three-to-five years and would require the HEW to ignore patterns of

resegregation. Although his bill failed, a more moderate version of it passed a year later

with heavy support by Northern liberals. Also in 1976, Congressional Democrats

amended ESAA to include funds to implement freedom-of-choice plans, which now were

referred to as “voluntary desegregation” or “magnet school” plans. In 1977, the Supreme

Court issued Milliken II, which required the State of Michigan to pay for educational

programs to repair the harm caused by segregation in the ghetto schools of Detroit, a

ruling that implicitly ratified “separate but equal” education à la Plessy.

Jimmy Carter’s presidency between 1976 and 1980 made little difference in the

national pattern. Although he was particularly supportive of civil rights, given Milliken

and the prevailing public mood, he had no capacity to contribute to school desegregation

other than remaining loyal to the relevant components of the Civil Rights Act, opposing

further anti-busing legislation, and appointing several liberal judges and public officials

to key agencies under his administration (Orfield 1978; Sitkoff 1993).

As things stood at the end of the 1970s, there was only one major source of

opportunity left for the NAACP to draw on in order to continue openly challenging the

concept of the neighborhood school. This was a bottom-up source of opportunity, one

that had to do with a “broad demographic circumstance” (McAdam et al. 1988) which

made it possible to put forth “unfairness” arguments: the significant proportion of whites

who remained in the cities, either out of support for or indifference to desegregation, or

for any other reason. As long as there were a certain percentage of white students in a

given city school system (anywhere between 25 and 35 percent), claims of historically

accumulated discrimination could be made against the school board and substantial

citywide remedies could be pursued—regardless of the prospect of further racial isolation

in the future. The ultimate point was to continue to express grievances related to unfair

educational inequality in whatever form or time span possible.

In some respects, the availability of the remedy, though limited, made the fight

worth it, since historical experience in American race relations suggested very little

would change in the quality of public education for blacks otherwise (Hochschild 1984;

Hartshorne 1992). Without continued reform efforts, interracial contact would remain at

a minimum and ghetto children would commonly attend tangibly unequal schools.

Besides, citywide desegregation programs to undo neighborhood schools typically

included other remedial elements such as curricular innovations, compensatory programs,

facility renovation, funding equalization, and teacher integration. These were critical

improvements for the education of poor black children, particularly in the face of

worsening non-school problems. The dilution and the eventual abandonment of the War

on Poverty made it imperative for the NAACP to utilize whatever chances it had to

openly contest segregation and to demand integrated and equal schools in urban districts,

irrespective of potential implementation problems down the line. The prospect of even a

moderate difference in terms of equal start for millions of poor black children was the

basic driving force.

Some critics of desegregation argued at the time that, given the obviousness of

suburbanization, urban school desegregation was an inherently untenable and harmful

effort, certain to fail (e.g. Glazer 1975; Coleman et al. 1975). This view is common

among contemporary critics as well (e.g., Armor 1995; Caldas and Bankston III 2005).

While pragmatically true, this approach fails to account for the historical trajectory of

school desegregation and what the rise of manifest conflict starting with Brown meant for

99 black equality. Such a disembodied view ignores the power dynamics that have always been at the core of the struggle for racial equality in America. In a situation of glaringly unfair inequality where the dominant group fails to live up to its own egalitarian creed, the subordinate group is likely to push for whatever concessions it can obtain so long as the opportunity structure allows it. Poor people’s movements, Piven and Cloward (1979) brilliantly point out, must be judged not by their official proclamations, but on the basis of “what was possible in the first place” (p. xiii). Thus, the imperfections of urban school desegregation from mid-1970s onward stemmed from what the NAACP could manage to demand on behalf of the black poor within the confines of the shrinking opportunity structure, rather than from the geographic and demographic constraints that undercut the reform once it was put into practice.

In this regard, suburbanization brought on by affluent and predominantly white flight out of the cities should not be viewed merely as an evolutionary process or a spatial inevitability, but as a sign of dominant group failure to sacrifice class privileges to the extent necessary to fulfill the collectively aspired ideals of fairness in American society.

Given the reality of class distinctions in metropolitan areas in contemporary U.S. and the historically accumulated disadvantages of poor blacks, suburbanization was the “nail on the coffin” as far as school desegregation was concerned. It was, to a significant extent, an exercise of preventative power because it was allowed to continue at a time when the majority of the affluent and the ruling elite could easily discern three basic consequences of the exodus: (1) it was sure to bring school desegregation to a halt at some point, (2) it was sure to have adverse effects on the economy and demographic diversity of the cities, and, most importantly, (3) it was sure to undermine the capacity of poor blacks to openly

100 and collectively express their demands for integrated and equal public education in the class hierarchy.

Moreover, from a purely egalitarian view, suburbanization need not necessarily have undermined racial integration. For suburbanites could have chosen to support large- scale social, economic, industrial, and housing programs to help uplift poor blacks in order to break the racial pattern in metropolitan areas; they could have advocated the consolidation of school districts or other educational reforms to equalize and gradually integrate the schools; they could have supported tax reforms and other local and state programs to improve the quality of life in urban areas and eventually slow and reverse the pattern of suburbanization; they could have pressured local and federal political leaders to renew the commitment to racial equality in general; most vitally, they could have encouraged political and civic initiatives to help create the necessary conditions to discuss possible ways to remedy separate and unequal education. But, none of these happened. Inaction prevailed due in large part to the anxiety over protecting class privileges, as well as the deepening indifference toward ghetto poverty. And, no public official, especially no “elected” public official, could afford to go against the underlying public preferences without risking his or her political career.

All in all, the net implication of perpetual suburbanization was not different from that of outright public resistance to school desegregation; neither was it different from that of Congressional, Senatorial, Presidential, and judicial efforts to inhibit and suffocate desegregation to such an extent that segregated schooling could no longer maintain a significant issue status. Public school segregation would increasingly become a non- issue (Bachrach and Baratz 1970), an uncontested social problem that contradicts the

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cherished ideals of egalitarianism in America. Whether intentionally discriminatory or

not, the agency of the dominant group in race relations—all the actions, inactions, and choices of this group—was slowly, but surely, creating structure-like circumstances which the subordinate group would eventually fail to challenge at all.

What’s worse, suburbanization had created a uniquely volatile demographic mix in Northern cities. As affluent whites left for the suburbs in greater numbers, the remaining white population became homogeneously working-class and near-poor.

Although most of these whites were not as disadvantaged as the average ghetto black, they were just as prone to the difficulties of urban life. Also, they were becoming outnumbered in racial terms, since more whites than blacks were leaving for the suburbs.

A similar but even worse pattern of homogenization was true for blacks too. As the social class split within the black community deepened, and the small percentage of affluent blacks eventually suburbanized, black neighborhoods became more uniformly poor (Wilson 1978, 1987). In a context where the members of the middle-class from both races have exited the confrontation, the less poor and smaller white group became particularly protective of its privileges in the face of demands from the more poor and larger black group (Wilson 1973). Lower class, predominantly ethnic, whites in the U.S. have typically considered blacks a principal threat to their socioeconomic and occupational wellbeing (Wilson 1973, 1978). These whites, who are often scorned by

“native” whites, have tended to “reaffirm their own ‘whiteness’ by oppressing a people that [is] even lower in the traditional racial hierarchy” (Massey and Denton 1993, p. 29).

School desegregation has been a particularly sensitive issue. “Too much desegregation,”

Hochschild (1984) points out, “harms poor whites’ psychological, social, and economic

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status and jeopardizes their willingness to settle for the meager benefits they receive from

a class society” (p. 155).

Therefore, while many attorneys in the NAACP regarded the proportion of remaining whites in the cities as a key source of bottom-up opportunity for continuing to contest the neighborhood schools, they were inadvertently provoking a severe and often violent response. A prime example of this occurred in Boston in 1975. The Boston

school desegregation case—Morgan v. Hennigan—was filed in 1972, and judge W.

Arthur Garrity had ordered a citywide busing plan in mid-1974, around the same time the

Milliken ruling was issued. Garrity’s plan relied significantly on busing black students

into schools located in predominantly Italian and Irish neighborhoods of south Boston.

Violence soon broke out in the form of public clashes that were reminiscent of events in

the South a decade earlier. White mobs attacked ordinary blacks on the street and

terrorized children on school buses (see Buell, Jr. 1982). Other groups boycotted the

schools. The Boston experience received tremendous media coverage and reinforced the already salient nationwide belief that school desegregation had gone as far as it actually

could in America. Garrity’s original plan was eventually replaced by a “controlled- choice” plan, which relied heavily on voluntary desegregation to protect the neighborhood schools—a shift that would later occur in several cities (Rossell 1990).

During the 1980s, as the cities continued to implement court-ordered busing as

best they could, the controversy surrounding unfair educational inequality in urban school

systems gradually subsided. At the same time, discussions of schooling shifted

dramatically from “concern with inequality” to “concern with achievement” (Graham

2005). This shift also affected the nature of the remedies advocated as alternatives to

103 racial desegregation. Brown’s promise of integrated and equal education was abandoned, and other remedies such as parental choice or “school choice,” privatization of public education, governance reform in schools and school districts, and the organizational improvement of segregated neighborhood schools became primary concerns. But, none of these reforms was able to turn urban education around.

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CHAPTER 3

THE PROGRESSIVE VALUE OF URBAN SCHOOL DESEGREGATION

AND THE RISE OF LATENT CONFLICT AROUND SEGREGATED PUBLIC

EDUCATION IN THE UNITED STATES

3.1. SCHOOL DESEGREGATION IN A TIME OF RAPID URBAN DECLINE

AND VANISHING OPPORTUNITY FOR MANIFEST CONFLICT

Brown had promised equal education for blacks regardless of geographic region or social class status. Urban school desegregation was a last ditch effort to fulfill

Brown’s mandate for poor black children in the metropolitan areas of the North and the

West. These were children who needed help the most due to the burden of de facto segregation and entrenched poverty. As a result of the controversies surrounding the concept of the neighborhood school, almost all city school systems located in metropolitan areas experienced some degree of integration by means of busing in the

1970s and 1980s. Except in a few cities, such as Indianapolis, Delaware, and Louisville,

Kentucky, integration plans remained strictly within city boundaries. And, just as the critics of urban school desegregation had prophesized, suburbanization ultimately reached a level that made desegregation in the cities a practically infeasible policy. In addition, many affluent families who either chose to remain in the cities or could not leave for various reasons enrolled their children in private schools, which also undermined desegregation.

Figure 3.1 displays changes in terms of three separate components of metropolitan school segregation by region between 1970 and 2000—segregation within districts,

105 between districts, and between private and public schools. While within-district segregation fell significantly in the Northeast, Midwest and the West, progress in these regions was offset considerably by the rise of between-district segregation. Private school enrollment also played a notable role in the growth of Western segregation. The combined scores for the Southern and Border States, on the other hand, reveal a dramatic decrease in terms of within-district segregation and little change in terms of both between-district segregation and segregation due to private schooling (see also Figure 2.1 on the relative success of Southern desegregation).

------

Figure 3.1 about here

------

Most importantly, limited success in racial mixing outside the South was accompanied by a lack of solid improvement in the educational outcomes of poor black children. Contrary to what many desegregation proponents had publicly argued, the academic achievement gap between whites and blacks remained largely the same in many districts; in some, where desegregation received considerable community and official support, black achievement improved only modestly (for notable reviews of the massive literature on academic outcomes of desegregation, see Cook et al. 1984; Hochschild

1984; Armor 1995, 2002; Schofeld 1995; Hochschild and Skovronick 2003).22 The only

22 Since the mid-1970s, there has been an avalanche of research on school desegregation. On long-term occupational outcomes, see Rivkin (2000) and Orfield (2001); on demographic consequences such as white flight, see Farley, Richards, and Wurdock (1980), and Clotfelter (2004); on implementation problems and methods, see Levin (1978) and Crain, Mahard, and Narot (1982); on differences between busing and

106

conclusively positive result of school desegregation was the breakdown of racial biases

among the youth (e.g., McConahay 1978; Schofeld 1982, 1991). Both blacks and whites

in integrated schools typically reported better interracial relationships, understanding, and

social skills. Kenneth Clark was correct about the necessity of integration to dismantle

the norms of racial caste after all.

By the end of the 1980s, the increased racial isolation in the cities and the

enduring achievement gap led to the belief among the majority of whites and blacks that

desegregation had done more harm than good. However, the value of urban school

desegregation must be judged in context. It must be evaluated in terms of what it was able to accomplish in a time of (1) worsening non-school conditions resulting from the

national failure to properly address and reverse urban poverty and segregation, and (2) vanishing political opportunity to openly challenge the concept of the neighborhood school or any other central component of unfair inequality in American public education.

As discussed in the previous chapter, the educational problems of poor black children in the ghettos ideally required both school-related remedies—namely, comprehensive desegregation—and non-school remedies, such as President Johnson’s War on Poverty.

The foiling of the latter does not negate the potential benefits of the former, no matter how limited. Originally, civil rights leaders and reformers had regarded comprehensive school desegregation as a remedial strategy that could promptly be implemented while the more complex War on Poverty ensued at a slower pace to improve non-school conditions in the ghettos. As the War on Poverty was gradually abandoned, the strategy of replacing segregated neighborhood schools with integrated and equal schools became

voluntary desegregation, see Rossell ( 2002); on case-study accounts of community experiences before and during desegregation, see Bonacich and Goodman (1972), Kirp (1982), Monti (1985); Watras (1997), and Taylor (1998).

107 ever more important because integration implied substantial improvements that could boost urban schools’ capacity to function as great equalizers. That is, the schools could still be utilized as a means to facilitate equal start for poor black children by counteracting their non-school problems, such as economic deprivation, neighborhood impoverishment, and disruptive family structure—factors first exposed by the Coleman

Report.

The notion of using the schools to give poor students a decent chance of success in the class hierarchy is squarely consistent with the collectively supported welfare role of public education in America. And, that objective became more urgent, not less, after the Supreme Court’s Milliken ruling in 1974 because, by prohibiting metropolitan desegregation in an era of rapid suburbanization, Milliken imposed an inherent expiration date on not only the implementation, but also the discussion of urban school desegregation. The question, then, is: Given the increasing non-school adversities in urban ghettos and the prospect of only a limited period of meaningful implementation, to what extent was desegregation able to improve the capacity of urban schools to function as the great equalizers that they were supposed to be?

3.2. CONCEPTUALIZING SCHOOL EFFECTIVENESS

3.2.1. Contradictory logics in the conception of public schools

Public schools are organizations with a uniquely peculiar position, not just in the

U.S., but in any modern industrialized nation. They are influenced by two contradictory logics associated with modern social stratification—the logic of private wellbeing and the

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logic of public wellbeing. On the one hand, the schools are designed to serve the private

interests of individual children and families by providing the skills, knowledge, values, and credentials necessary for the pursuit of societal rewards and benefits (Sewell and

Shah 1967). The logic of private wellbeing is the key reason why the typical family in the public education system of any modern society seeks as good a school as possible for its children. Better schools imply better starting conditions because they involve better resources, peers, social and occupational networks, teachers, and curricula, all of which translate into a potential edge in the competition for success and accumulation of private advantage (Turner 1986).

On the other hand, public schools are expected to serve the public interest. They

are free and uniform organizations, and they ideally serve all children as best they can

without regard to social background. In this respect, the benefits of the public schools are

supposed to be shared equally for collective purposes, and every child must have a

reasonable prospect for competition in the class hierarchy. The schools should be

unaffected by social distinctions as far as their contributions to children’s life chances are

concerned. The logic of public wellbeing is a major reason why many societies created a

system of equally accessible and impartial public education system in the 19th and early

20th centuries as an alternative to private schools, which exclusively served the children

of the elite (Dahrendorf 1959, 1988; Rawls 1971, 1993).23

Despite their contradiction, the logics of both public and private wellbeing receive

considerable support in modern societies. While the majority of parents compete to

23 Public education also serves the public interest by fostering common cultural values and competencies necessary for effective citizenship and social interaction. For a functional society, the majority of individuals must aspire to a set of shared beliefs and norms, as well as be sufficiently capable of certain basic skills, such as reading, writing, and cooperating with others in a productive way (Parsons 1959).

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secure superior public education for their children, they also believe that all children

deserve a decent education, and they prefer to live in a society where that particular goal

is sufficiently valued. These two orientations are inherently at odds, and the typical

public school is caught in between, both conceptually and in terms of function. As

Coleman (1970) points out:

The history of education since the industrial revolution shows a continual struggle between two forces: the desire by members of society to have educational opportunity for all children, and the desire of each family to provide the best education it can afford for its own children. Neither of these desires is to be despised; they both lead to investment by the older generation in the younger. But they can lead to quite different outcomes. (p. 1)

The effectiveness of an organization is determined by the degree to which it

realizes its goals (Etzioni 1964). However, organizations, such as the public schools,

which are permeated by multiple logics and conflicting demands, have precarious criteria

for effectiveness (Kochan, Cummings, and Huber 1976; Quinn and Rohrbaugh 1983).

Each logic may prescribe a distinct set of values and standards deemed important by a

particular constituency in the organizational environment (Perrow 1977; Ranson,

Hinings, and Greenwood 1980). Therefore, “various constituencies of an organization

may have irreconcilable differences and … effectiveness for one party may be the

opposite for another” (Hall 1996, p. 273). Under these circumstances, organizational

effectiveness is prone to becoming a deeply “sociopolitical question” because the issues

of when, how, and to what extent a particular logic will be applied in efforts to define and

evaluate effectiveness may be contingent upon the differences in the power and capability

of external constituents (Pfeffer and Salancik 1978).

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Such dynamics have a permanent bearing on the views regarding the goals and

success of the schools in the U.S. Ideally, the design and operation of American public

education are influenced equally by the logics of public and private wellbeing. The

schools are considered effective when they facilitate individual competition for private

advantage, but do so equitably for all children, often paying special attention to the needs

and problems of disadvantaged children who face adversities outside the school

(Hochschild and Skovronick 2003). However, given the inherent contradiction between

the logics of public and private wellbeing, striking a reasonable balance is an enduring

challenge, and significant deviations from the ideal do occur, which provide grounds for

various reforms (see Carnoy and Levin 1985; Tyack and Cuban 1995; Labaree 1997; and

Hochschild and Skovronick 2003 about the competing effects of public and private

interests on the schools). Major problems in public schooling arise when a markedly

unfair relationship prevails in the American class hierarchy, because such patterns affect

the domain of education in a distinct way. Inadequate schooling becomes not only an

important component of unfair inequality in its own right, but also a means to perpetuate

unfairness in other areas as well, such as the labor market, higher education, property

ownership, and political participation in America (Wrigley 1982; Peterson 1985). The

poorly educated stratum in the hierarchy—whether defined economically, racially, ethnically, or in terms of certain cultural or biological attributes—is likely to remain inferior in terms of occupational status, wealth, and the exercise of citizenship rights.

The public schools may, in other words, function as instruments of domination.

In such an occasion, the logic of public wellbeing has little influence on the

definition and criteria for school effectiveness; the public schools primarily serve the

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private interests of the dominant group. Reversing this situation invariably requires

substantial manifest conflict between the key external constituencies in the schools’ environment. The subordinate group emphasizes, perhaps even exaggerates if necessary, the logic of public wellbeing, and views the schools almost entirely in terms of their effectiveness in promoting equality for all children; “Are the public schools accomplishing their collectivistic mission?” Successfully voicing this issue exposes the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing, and holds the rest of society to the national ideal of restoring the balance between the two logics. Yet, many in the ruling elite and the majority of the ordinary members of the dominant group are likely to respond out of a concern with the extent to which their own status would be compromised; “Will the push for equality undermine the individualistic mission of the schools?” This apprehensive posture, originating from the logic of private wellbeing, has at times limited the scope of the remedies proposed and implemented in the history of

American public education (Tyack and Cuban 1995). Nevertheless, the controversies themselves have been pivotal in the rise and the relative success of egalitarian movements (Nelson, Carlson, and Palonsky 1996). It is by means of such movements that the logic of public wellbeing has managed to periodically reassert itself in the predominant definitions and criteria for school effectiveness in the U.S (Tyack and

Cuban 1995; Graham 2005).

However, a high degree of unfairness does not ensure manifest conflict because restrictions on the political opportunity structure may render latent the conflict of interests between the key external constituents of the schools. The agency—that is, the actions, inactions, and choices—of the dominant group may restrict top-down and

112 bottom-up opportunity for open contention regarding the proper goals of public education. The exercise of preventative power may simply conceal the high degree of contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing. When a morally warranted manifest conflict is short-lived or fails to arise at all, subordinate group interests in addressing the need to reevaluate the prevailing views of school effectiveness are subverted. The question of whether public schools are accomplishing their collectivistic mission does not gain sufficient salience, at least not for long, despite the unfair status quo.

The post-Milliken years in school desegregation—all the way up to the late 1980s when racial mixing became infeasible in most cities—was a time when the logic of public wellbeing had a significant influence on the views concerning school effectiveness, at least on the official views. Although this was a period of steady return to full-fledged latent conflict—which had started in the late 1960s—the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing remained notably exposed, and the urban schools had a considerable chance to function equitably, making a difference for many poor black children. But, understanding this effect first and foremost requires an organizational lens, one that distinguishes between the capability of the individual urban student to succeed on the one hand, and the effectiveness of the school to help the student succeed on the other. While the two are intrinsically related, the central elements of reform in desegregated districts—such as busing, funding equalization, teacher integration, curricular innovations, and so on—involved changing not the students, but the organizational form of the schools in light of collectivistic goals. The predominant organizational form in American public education, namely, the neighborhood school (the

113 embodiment of the localist tradition), was replaced with the concept of the integrated school as a means to rearrange people, activities, and resources such that public schools became more effective under a previously de-emphasized definition of effectiveness in the urban areas of the North and the West—“help all students succeed, not just the affluent ones.” In Kenneth Clark’s (1965) blunt words,

Meaningful desegregation of urban ghetto public schools [could] occur only if all the schools in the system [were] raised to the highest standards so that quality of education [did] not vary according to the income or the social status of the neighborhood” (p. 117).

This was not about improving the students themselves, since student performance was, and always is, affected significantly by several non-school factors, which American education policy rarely, if ever, addresses. It is likely that the lack of a solid improvement in the educational outcomes of poor black students in many desegregated districts had much to do with the intensifying non-school problems that the War on

Poverty was supposed to alleviate, such as economic deprivation, neighborhood impoverishment, and disruptive family structure. In this respect, had neighborhood schools not been replaced with integrated schools, educational outcomes may have been even worse for many students. Given the practical and time constraints surrounding urban school desegregation, as well as the retreat from the Great Society programs of the

1960s, it is likely that integrated schools never had a meaningful chance to bring about substantial and lasting change in individual student outcomes. But, it is reasonable to think that desegregation did make the schools more effective in light of the logic of public wellbeing and prevented unfair educational inequality from growing deeper than it actually did, which was of significant value for students in a time of persistent urban decline.

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In a period of diminishing political opportunity, school desegregation, even if

restricted to city boundaries, was a necessary intervention for the life chances of urban

students. However, both the proponents and the critics of urban school desegregation

have failed to take into account the difference between the organizational effectiveness of

the schools and the individual performance of the students. They have invariably treated

the degree of change in student performance as the key measure of desegregation success

and failure, which does not do justice to the policy. The focus should be on the degree of

change in the organizational effectiveness of the schools to help the students succeed in

the face of worsening non-school conditions.

3.2.2. Urban public schools as “organizations of salvation”

While in many modern nations, equal education implies equal access to the

schools and neutral treatment of all children inside the schools, there is more to it than

that in the U.S. In American public education, the schools are expected to do all they can

to compensate for the non-school disadvantages of deprived children. This uniquely

American view, which receives wide support from ordinary citizens irrespective of social

status, had a significant role in giving the NAACP the moral upper hand in its unrelenting

pursuit of school desegregation. No other modern society has been as adamant as the

U.S. in viewing its public schools as organizations of salvation for poor children. The

majority of Americans share the view that the public schools are the primary, if not the

only, means by which to offset the adverse effects of problems outside the school on student success. Schools are, in other words, considered great equalizers designed to level the playing field in the class hierarchy and facilitate equal start for disadvantaged

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children. This is the ultimate criterion for school effectiveness invoked by the logic of

public wellbeing in America, and it is what the performance of desegregated schools in urban areas should be judged by.

The historical and cultural context of the “great equalizer” notion

The U.S. was a pioneer in the development of modern public schools. The idea of

providing high quality education to all children originally gained popularity in America

out of a concern for reconciling the tension between the pattern of individual competition

and the concern for the common good—to maintain, that is, equality of opportunity

(McClosky and Zaller 1984). According to Katznelson and Weir (1985),

The inescapable tension between public and private realms, and the battles at this boundary about the extensiveness of equal citizenship and popular sovereignty took place in and were greatly moderated by the system of schooling for all. The commitment to educate all children in public schools paid for by the government was the most distinctive feature of American public policy of the early 19th century. (p. 10)

Horace Mann’s foundational vision of the “common school” was a universal

organization that provided high quality education to every child, one that knew “no distinction of rich and poor, of bond and free, or between those whom in the imperfect light of this world, are seeking through different avenues, to reach the gate of heaven”

(cited in Messerli 1972, p. 493). Such an organization would enable disadvantaged children “to look upon the distinctions of society without envy” and be “taught to understand that they are open to them as well as to others and to respect them for this reason” (Curti 1965, p. 93).

It was the original emphasis on equality that has been crucial in fostering the ideal that the logics of private and public wellbeing should affect American schools equally.

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This has also been crucial in rendering public education distinctly prone to contention.

Americans continually beat up on their public schools. And, the majority of Americans

are quicker than are the citizens of most other modern societies to complain when they

realize that families who are better off than they are transfer too much class privilege to

their children by means of superior public education—although the nature and intensity

of the demands are at times a function of the opportunity structure, as the experience with

school desegregation has shown.

However, a superior education is not the only advantage families wish to transfer

to their children as a means to provide better starting conditions. There are a number of

non-school factors as well, such as income and wealth, a safe and supportive community

environment, and most importantly, a healthy and nurturing home context, all of which

have profound implications for life chances. It was the prevalence of disparities in terms of non-school factors that occasioned a broadened understanding of egalitarian schooling in America at the turn of the 20th century, the progressive era (Tyack 1974; Graham

2005). The schools gradually got attributed a social welfare role and were expected to

function as great equalizers that could offset non-school problems and facilitate equal

start. This meant that they would no longer be merely universal, but provide even more

help to those children whose families were not as capable in transferring non-school

advantages. Education and educators became the instruments of social progress and

greater equality, not just in schooling but in the non-school domain as well (Cremin 1951,

1961). Some even viewed the schools as the primary means to create a society in which

equality and social justice would be the fundamental aims of all economic, political, and

cultural policies and practices (e.g., Counts 1932). This broadened view of the role of

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public education transformed the schools into an organizational vehicle to help deprived children whose families could not provide an adequate context for growth and development outside the school. The basic premise has since then been one of reducing, and preferably eliminating, the adverse effects of non-school impediments on poor children’s performance at school and on their subsequent success in the class hierarchy at

large (Grubb and Lazerson 2004). As Lee and Burkam’s (2002) put it,

Americans believe that schools are places where social inequalities should be equalized, where the advantages or disadvantages that children experience in their homes and families should not determine what happens to them in school—in essence the school is a place where children should have equal chances to make the most of their potential. (p. 5)

Poor black children were, of course, traditionally excluded from the vision of the schools as a means to an equal start. Nonetheless, the notion of the great equalizer underlies several contemporary educational policies such as pre-school programs (e.g.,

Head Start), compensatory and after-school education, psychological and career counseling, special education, bilingual education, subsidized lunch programs, urban school desegregation, pedagogical alternatives for the poor, and most recently, the No

Child Left Behind Act of 2002. These initiatives and many others like them essentially involve providing needy students with extra resources, services, options, and experiences on top of what public schools would normally offer. “Where inequalities are explicitly promoted,” Rawls (1971) notes, “they [would be] inequalities favoring those who need additional educational resources to compensate for some ‘undeserved’ deficiency” (p.

100-1).

Reliance on the schools as a comprehensive welfare device has become the most defining feature of American public education (Rothstein 2004). In some respects, the

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conception of the schools as great equalizers is the American answer to the state-run

social welfare policies in most other modern societies. Shapiro and Young (1990) have found that education is the only issue in the arena of welfare policies for which

Americans are much more supportive than residents of other modern societies.

Americans are also much more likely to rank as “essential” almost any public school

issue that they are asked to evaluate (Organization for Economic Cooperation and

Development 1995). Hochschild and Skovronick (2003) point out that,

Because the U.S. does not provide the kind of family support … or public child care available in [many European nations, for instance], social scientists often describe America as a welfare laggard. … But the U.S. is a welfare leader with regard to schooling; here public schools started earlier and have always included more people and taken a larger share of resources. … The U.S. ranks higher than all but three nations (Denmark, Switzerland, and Austria) in annual expenditures per K-12 student. (p. 19- 20)

Understanding the extent to which desegregation contributed to the effectiveness

of urban public schools to function as great equalizers requires an elaborate view of the

non-school problems that these schools were supposed to counteract. What specific

factors constitute the quality of the non-school life of the typical urban student? How do

these factors ordinarily interact with the public schools? And, most importantly, how is

that particular interaction likely to change as a result of radical policy like racial

desegregation? The first question is addressed below; the latter two are addressed in the

subsequent section, which also posits an empirically testable theoretical model.

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3.3. CONTEMPORARY CONCEPTS REGARDING THE KEY COMPONENTS

OF THE NON-SCHOOL CONTEXT AND THE RECENT FINDINGS ON

THE BASIC EDUCATIONAL IMPLICATIONS OF THESE COMPONENTS

Conceptualizing public school effectiveness, or the effectiveness of any other type

of organization, would be incomplete without a proper conception of the relevant forces

in the organizational environment (Lawrence and Lorsch 1967; Thompson 1967). The

first step, in this regard, is to theoretically specify the educationally pertinent problems in

the non-school context experienced by the majority of urban children, problems that

urban public schools are expected to counteract. Yet, the problems outside the school have been a relatively unpopular topic in American educational research and policymaking, despite the well-established relationship between non-school disadvantages and schooling (e.g., Douglas 1964; Clark 1965; Coleman et al. 1966;

Jencks et al. 1972; Boudon 1974; Bowles and Gintis 1976). Ironically, this has, in part,

to do with the deeply held conviction that “good” public schools can help any child succeed regardless of background (Albright and Conley 2004; Rothstein 2004). Efforts to reform urban schools have typically lacked a sufficiently elaborate conception of what the schools are typically up against as far as non-school problems are concerned.

The modern sociology of education offers three key constructs concerning the non-school problems in urban districts: economic capital, social capital, and cultural capital. Each is a critical element of non-school class advantages and disadvantages that families transfer to children. The implications of economic capital are self-evident. The more income and wealth a family has, the higher its capacity to afford educational resources for its children, including better schools, extra-curricular activities, equipment

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and supplies, and tutoring (Entwisle, Alexander, and Olson 2004). Economic capital also

determines other quality of life variables such as access to healthcare and a comfortable

residence. The percentage of urban families whose incomes are below the federal

poverty line has increased dramatically in the last five decades, reaching well over 50

percent in some locations (Kozol 1991, 2004; Lippman et al. 1996; National Center for

Children in Poverty 2005). Most poor black children carry a significant risk of

malnourishment, low birth weight, and led poisoning (Barton 2003). They also suffer from serious vision, hearing, and dental problems, as well as pollution-induced asthma

(Harris 2002; Gould and Gould 2003; Forrest et al. 1997; Rothstein 2004). Such

conditions impair the “readiness” and motivation to succeed in school, and the ability to

retain important knowledge and skills (Mayer 1997). Low family income, particularly when it is permanent, is a substantial detriment to students’ learning and development

(Blau 1999).

Lack of sufficient economic capital invariably predicts lower academic and

cognitive scores (e.g., Duncan and Brooks-Gunn 1997; Houston, McLoyd, and Garcia-

Coll 1994). For instance, a recent study by the National Center for Educational Statistics

(2001) found that black students with family incomes below the federal poverty line had

reading and mathematics skills at the time of high school graduation that were roughly

the same as those of the average white student in the eighth grade. The study also found

that only one on 50 poor black 17-year-olds could read and extract information from a

specialized text—such as the science section of a newspaper—compared to about one in

12 white students. While the national rate of gradation from all racial minorities averages

121 around 50 percent (as opposed to 75 percent for whites), the rate goes down to as low as

25 percent in large urban school districts (Orfield et al. 2004).

Social capital is an intangible asset, one that has to do with the level of trust and loyalty embedded in human relationships. According to Coleman (1988/1997), social capital available to a child transpires both inside and outside the family, determining the extent to which the life-world of the child facilitates or impedes growth and development.

However, the family context has been more rigorously addressed by the work of

Bourdieu (1986/1997) and Lareau (2000, 2003), who have used the notion of cultural capital. Coleman’s approach is more relevant in terms of the social capital outside the family. In this regard, social capital has specifically to do with the properties of the neighborhood where the family resides. The quality of community relations, the extent of cooperation and shared information among neighbors, and the effectiveness of sanctions against deviance (on the part of both children and adults) constitute the social capital that affects the child. A neighborhood with adequate social capital “supports and provides effective rewards for high achievement in school and greatly facilitates the school’s task” (Coleman 1988/1997, p. 85). In the true sense of the phrase, “it takes a village,” neighborhoods with high social capital offer children a safe and nurturing environment characterized by productive peer networks, positive role models, and

“intergenerational closure,” where the parents of one child are socially oriented to perform supervisory and caretaking roles for another, unattended child when necessary.

The lack of social capital at the neighborhood level amplifies the impediments of economic deprivation. Urban neighborhoods have become “the site of much of the crime, welfare dependency, school dropouts, poverty and other social problems that not

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only affect the life chances of children residing in these areas but also impose costs on the

rest of society” (Mincy, Sawhill, and Wolf 1990, p. 452). Many families in urban areas

reside in incohesive and racially isolated communities characterized by low trust and

loyalty among residents (Jencks and Mayer 1990; Sampson Raudenbush, and Earls 1997;

Sampson, Morenoff, and Gannon-Rowley 2002). In addition, basic social institutions such as churches, schools, restaurants, and block clubs have lost much of their capacity to support social integration and reinforce normative control over conduct (Wilson 1996).

Deviance and despair hurts children’s prospects. The children often lack positive role models, effective monitoring, community caretaking, and a collectively inspired sense of hope (Burton 1997; Anderson 1999; Duneier 1999). Deteriorated neighborhoods undermine schooling because children internalize unproductive values and beliefs, adopt a pessimistic view of life, and manifest harmful behaviors.

These patterns are detrimental to educational achievement (test scores) as well as attainment (years of schooling) (e.g., Leventhal and Brooks-Gunn 2000; Shankoff and

Phillips 2000; Linver, Fulingi, and Brooks-Gunn 2004). Children exposed to impoverished neighborhood conditions for prolonged periods have cognitive scores six to nine times lower than those who never lived in poverty (Smith, Brooks-Gunn, and

Klebanov 1997). For adolescents, interaction with deviant urban peer systems, criminal figures, and other negative role models significantly limit the likelihood of high school graduation (Connell and Halpern-Felsher 1997; Spencer et al. 1997). Some poor black children actively defy schooling given their well-substantiated perception that they are likely to fail in school and that, even if they do succeed, their occupational prospects will remain grim (Noguera 2001; Gates 2004).

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Of all three types of capital that broadly constitute the non-school context, cultural capital is the most important one. Cultural capital is social capital within the family. It has to do with the quality of parenting or, more specifically, the quality of socialization and nurturing the child receives at home, as well as the degree of direct parental influence over schooling outside the home. Cultural capital is of particular significance because effective parenting can overcome the ill effects of insufficient economic and social capital in the urban ecology. A family may be economically disadvantaged and may have little control over adverse conditions in the neighborhood, but it may still be able to provide its children a healthy and nurturing home context, and also remain involved in the structure and functioning of the public schools. It is for this reason that the rare stories of poor black children who achieve high levels of success, both in school and beyond, often involve an unusually conscientious and uniquely skilled parent(s) or other authority figures or role models (such as a committed grandparent, teacher or neighbor) who take on parental roles to socialize, discipline, inspire and, in many ways, shield children from the impediments of urban life (Clark 1983; Furstenberg

1993; Jarrett 1995, 1997, 1999; Furstenberg et al. 1999).

Bourdieu (1986/1997) defines cultural capital as the totality of mental, interpersonal, scholastic, literary, and artistic competencies possessed by parents. These are transmitted to the child “in the form of long-lasting dispositions of the mind and the body” (p. 47). Scholars have often viewed cultural capital in terms of its objectified state, involving knowledge, styles, and tastes regarding “cultural goods” such as books, paintings, literary works, and other artifacts (e.g., DiMaggio 1982; DiMaggio and Mohr

1985; Teachman 1987; Kalmijn and Kraaykamp 1996; Dumais 2002). Yet, as Wrigley

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(2000) points out, academic achievement rarely depends on “the ability to craft an elegant essay or to display an intimate knowledge of a literary tradition” (p. vii). What is more important in this regard is the form of cultural capital that transpires at a much deeper level, what Bourdieu refers to as the embodied state, whereby the parents inculcate a social and cognitive orientation enabling the child to set and pursue challenging goals, tackle complex problems, comprehend and discuss important societal issues, and successfully relate to peers and authority figures. Effective parenting, in this respect, is what instills habitus in children, an asset that “must be invested by the family … [because it] cannot be transmitted institutionally” (Bourdieu 1986/1997, p. 48). Cultural capital in the form of habitus is the most tacit advantage affluent children rely upon to outperform poor ones whose parents may not be as resourceful. David (1993) has used the clever term “parentocracy” to describe this dynamic.

Another manner in which cultural capital affects education is through direct parental involvement in school affairs. Parents may rely on the skills, styles and orientations they transmit to children at home also in personally shaping children’s educational experience outside the home. Lareau (2000, 2003) shows that affluent parents possessing high cultural capital tend to get actively involved in school matters and influence curricular elements, classroom design, pedagogical choices, and homework content. These parents use their cultural competencies to provide their children with customized schooling fitted to their children’s specific needs and capacities. Poor parents with low cultural capital, on the other hand, fail to shape their children’s schooling in the same way. Lacking the necessary competencies, they consider education outside the domain of their influence and, although they wish the same success for their children as

125 do other parents for theirs, they settle for generic schooling, which may not be as effective.

A significant portion of students in the ghettos of metropolitan areas lack cultural capital, both in the form of habitus and parental involvement in the public schools. The parents of these students have low social status and occupational skills, and lack the experience and confidence critical for effective parenting in an impoverished social ecology (Wilson 1987, 1996). As a result, they are generally less successful than affluent parents are in inculcating a diligent work ethic and discipline at home. They tend to set lower expectations and may have difficulty in showing affection and exercising adequate control (Dornbusch et al. 1985; McLoyd 1990). They participate less often in children’s social activities, read less to their children (Bianchi and Robinson 1997; Hoffereth and

Sandberg 2001) and rarely help with school work (Balli, Demo, Wedman 1998). Also, they typically converse with children in ways that instill fear and hesitation rather than confidence and respect toward peers and authority figures (Rothstein 2004). Finally, they may feel inadequate and are at times intimidated by staff and professionals in educational bureaucracies (Baker and Stevenson 1986; Anyon 1997; Lareau 2000), which curtails their involvement in the schools. According to Epstein and Dauber (1991), many poor black parents lack the basic “know-how” for productively participating in their children’s education. Family characteristics have dramatic effects on educational outcomes (Clark

1983), often more critical than the effects of the family’s income and the quality of the neighborhood it resides in (Jencks and Mayer 1990; Furstenberg et al. 1999). Deficient cultural capital strongly predicts low test scores and dropping out of high school (e.g.,

Stevenson and Baker 1987).

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Altogether the lack of economic capital, social capital, and, most importantly, cultural capital in the non-school context pose the basic challenges that urban public

schools must counteract if they are to be effective as great equalizers. But, as recent

findings briefly mentioned above indicate, urban schools, most of which are currently

separate and unequal, are ineffective in this regard. As a matter of fact, the non-school

problems in many urban districts have become so severe over the last few decades that

“the schools cannot overcome [them], no matter how well trained are their teachers and

no matter how well designed are their instructional programs and climates” (Rothstein

2004, p. 5). While this may appear to undermine the importance of providing high

quality and integrated education to poor black children, it does not, because today, as

before, the educational problems in the ghettos require both school-related remedies and

non-school remedies. As far as urban school desegregation is concerned, the central

issue is whether replacing the concept of the neighborhood school with that of the

integrated school during the 1970s and 1980s made a difference in public school

effectiveness. Were the schools more successful in counteracting non-school problems

and facilitating equal start for their students? At the very least, were they more

successful than they are today?

3.4. A CONCEPTUAL MODEL OF PUBLIC SCHOOL INTERACTION WITH

THE URBAN NON-SCHOOL CONTEXT AND THE IMPLICATIONS OF

SCHOOL DESEGREGATION

The lack of economic capital, social capital, and cultural capital in the

organizational environment of urban public schools corresponds roughly to the non-

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school problems exposed by the Coleman Report in the mid-1960s, namely economic

deprivation, neighborhood impoverishment, and disruptive family structure. In 1972,

Christopher Jencks, a member of Coleman’s original team of scholars, published

Inequality with his colleagues, using, in part, the same data set that Coleman had used.

Like Coleman, he found that while school inequality was an important element, family

and neighborhood background were the primary determinants of educational outcomes,

followed by the closely related considerations of individual intelligence and aspirations.

Though both the Coleman Report and Inequality met with significant resistance at the time from many scholars and policymakers, they effectively conveyed the potential weakness of educational reform policies that disregarded non-school problems in the ghettos, problems that Lyndon B. Johnson’s War on Poverty had targeted. Urban school desegregation was such a policy. Given the circumstances at the time, there was no option but to implement desegregation against worsening odds of success resulting from the national failure to resolutely attack ever more serious non-school problems of poor black children that the civil rights leaders and the federal government had addressed in

the heyday of the open struggle for racial equality. It is imperative to keep this in

perspective when considering desegregation outcomes because, in their efforts to be

effective as great equalizers, integrated schools faced an environment the harmful effects

of which became increasingly difficult to overcome.

3.4.1. Overview of a neo-ecological theory of the non-school context

In order to resolve the weakness in mainstream research and policy regarding the

non-school context, a number of scholars from a variety of disciplines have called for a

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more systematic and rigorous study of the problems outside the schools (e.g., Anyon

1997, 2005; Rury and Mirel 1997; Wilson 1998; Noguera 2003; Conley and Albright

2004; Rothstein 2004). However, although key factors such as low income, low

neighborhood quality, and disruptive family structure are often included in models to

predict educational outcomes, an integrated view of the non-school context remains

elusive. The lack of economic capital, lack of social capital, and lack of cultural capital

do not influence education independently, but interact with each other in specific ways to create a complex dynamic that constitutes the non-school condition which the urban schools confront. Thus, no particular non-school problem should be considered in its own right, but be understood from an integrated perspective.

Key insights in this regard are found neither in the school desegregation literature,

nor in the broader sociology of education. They are available in the neo-ecological

studies of urban poverty (Wilson 1978, 1987, 1996; Jencks and Peterson 1991; Katz

1993; Massey and Denton 1993; Jargowsky 1997). The neo-ecologists address the ways

in which economic, social, and cultural decline in the cities in the postwar decades has produced contemporary ghetto poverty, with particularly adverse effects on African-

Americans. However, as Rury and Mirel (1997) point out, there has been “relatively little research on urban schooling that can be linked to the most recent group of ecological studies” (p. 85). Neo-ecological research emphasizes how the fundamental transformation in the properties of the American economy and in the geographic organization of metropolitan space have exacerbated the traditional disadvantage of poor blacks, most notably by deepening the erosion of affluent style family patterns in the ghettos.

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From the late 1940s onward, urban areas have experienced a perpetual increase in

the lack of economic capital available to children through their families. This was largely

a consequence of the shrinking manufacturing sector on which many poor black families

had depended on for low- and semi-skilled jobs providing steady incomes (Wilson 1978,

1987, 1996). In the same period, residential segregation also intensified due to the legal and normative racial biases in the housing market—initially within the cities and later

between the cities and the suburbs, as the predominantly white affluent population relocated to the suburbs in greater numbers (Massey and Denton 1993). Affluent

response to the pressures for school desegregation during the late 1960s, 1970s, and early

1980s accelerated this process. The resulting racial isolation in the ghettos brought about

an unprecedented level of “social disorganization” (Sampson and Groves 1989) in poor

black neighborhoods—a situation characterized by high levels of community breakdown

and a persistent “ghetto subculture” at variance with affluent norms and values. In other

words, poor black neighborhoods gradually lost much of their social capital.

Ultimately, the changes in material and residential circumstances undermined the

economic and normative bases of the mainstream double-parent family among poor

blacks. The single-parent family became increasingly prevalent, which is usually female-

headed and perpetually poor. This type of family typically results from a widespread

scarcity of income and wealth—which limits young people’s marital choices and puts

strains on married couples—as well as from a persistent subculture that devalues

marriage and is ineffective against teenage pregnancies, out-of-wedlock births, and crime

(Wilson 1987, 1996; Anderson 1989, 1999; Sullivan 1989; Stern 1993).

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Although single-parenthood is not an inherently inferior family form, it is an

important problem in the deprived ghetto ecology because, single parents in that ecology tend to lack the resources, skills, and competencies critical for affluent-style childrearing, and are also vulnerable to personal depression and other emotional problems (Garfinkel and McLanahan 1986; McLanahan and Booth 1989; Downey and Coyne 1990; McLoyd et al. 1994; Wilson 1996). In this respect, the single-parent family is an adverse situation

in which much of the parenting problems and the subsequent lack of cultural capital

occur. It is a condition that too often signals ineffective parenting in an environment of

widespread and persistent poverty. As Coleman (1986/1997) argues, cultural capital—

which, according to him, is social capital within the family—depends

both on the physical presence of adults in the family and on the attention given by the adults to the child. The physical absence of adults may be described as a structural deficiency in family social capital. The most prominent element of structural deficiency in modern families is the single-parent family. (p. 89)

The postwar dissolution of the double-parent family has had devastating implications for the life chances of poor black children. While there never was a “golden

age” of urban life for blacks in economic and social terms, the black family had remained

largely intact in the prewar period, and it played an important mediating role, one where

it alleviated the effects of economic and neighborhood problems. In an era of systematic

and explicit racial discrimination and inequality, strong, steady-income double-parent

families “had worked against such conditions, sustaining and protecting individuals as far

as possible” (Miller 1993, p. 254). The transfer of cultural capital was a key part of this

process. Despite the norms of racial caste, most children were exposed to sufficient socialization and nurturing from their parents, which instilled self-confidence, discipline,

131 and a productive cognitive and social orientation (Frazier 1950; Moynihan 1965; Gutman

1976; Miller 1993). Children also internalized many of the basic liberal values regarding academic success, personal achievement, and social mobility. Thus, families successfully inculcated habitus at home, thereby supporting children’s educational performance. In some ways, black families tended to be even more protective of their children than were white families. “Given equal opportunities,” Frazier (1962) argued, “the children of

[black] families performed as well as or even better than their white peers” (p. 29).

Active involvement in the public schools was also common among black parents in the prewar decades. According to Feldman (1999), despite their separate and inherently unequal status, black schools not only benefited from considerable community participation, but, were, at least in some locations, objects of a strategy of self- segregation. Parents regularly volunteered to improve school quality and performance, sought ways to enhance children’s learning, and donated various necessities such as equipment, supplies, and money (Walker 1996). Thus, when it came to public schooling, most families manifested “No Poverty of Spirit” (Bell 2004). In essence, although urban families have traditionally lacked adequate levels of economic and social capital available to other children in the class hierarchy, they were not as short on cultural capital, and they relied on this to do the best for their children.

Cultural capital was basically a buffer or a cushion that supported the schools’ task despite the schools’ inherent inferiority due to racial discrimination in public education. While the available cultural capital was hardly sufficient to ensure educational equality, it was an important intangible resource for black schools to draw on. Ironically, as the quest for racial equality in American public education began to

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expand in the postwar period, ghetto schools serving poor black children were losing

their “best friend” in the non-school context—cultural capital. By the time the conflict to

desegregate city school systems of the North became fully manifest in the mid-1960s, the

forces that fueled family dissolution in the ghettos had already become entrenched

(Moynihan 1965). The lack of economic capital (due to material poverty) and the lack of social capital (due to neighborhood social disorganization) were going hand in hand to limit the cultural capital available to children (due to the rise of the structurally deficient single-parent family). This was a self-reproducing structural problem or what

Moynihan (1965) had referred to at the time as the “tangle of pathology.” It remains prevalent today, at even worse levels than before. And, it is a pattern that Lyndon B.

Johnson’s War on Poverty would have ameliorated, at least to a certain degree, had it been persistently and successfully implemented alongside comprehensive school desegregation in the long run.24

As single-parenthood became more common, and the cultural capital in the urban ecology continued to decline, the structure of the poor black family began to turn into one

that aggravates rather than buffers the effects of economic and neighborhood problems.

In other words, the traditionally positive mediating role of the family gradually morphed

24 As described in the previous chapter, the original Great Society programs involved initiatives to create manufacturing and other jobs in urban areas, end housing segregation, rehabilitate the urban labor force to adapt to the new labor market, improve healthcare and civil services, provide meaningful unemployment and other welfare benefits, and implement family guidance programs. From a purely pragmatic perspective, there is no way to know for certain whether the War on Poverty would, in its original form, have effectively eradicated ghetto poverty, since it was abandoned. It is likely that the War would have had to be supplemented with broad industrial and fiscal policies at the national level to reduce the vulnerability of poor blacks to the changes in the structure of the economy (Wilson 1987). New approaches to urban planning and social services may also have been necessary. Adaptation and change to new circumstances and challenges during implementation are inherent problems for any public policy (Pressman and Wildavsky 1984). What ultimately matters for success is the commitment to implementation. As difficult, costly, and complex as the proposed and potential initiatives to fight poverty were in the 1960s, following the basic objective through was imperative for improving the non-school conditions and breaking the tangle of pathology that affected the majority of poor black children.

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into a negative one. Therefore, urban public schools increasingly confronted an

environment that fell short in terms of all three types of capital critical for educational

success. Specifically, the lack of economic capital and the lack of social capital had

begun to impede schooling through their adverse implications for cultural capital, from

which black schools had previously benefited at a considerable level.

While scholarly and policy-related knowledge concerning ghetto poverty was not

as sophisticated in the 1960s and 1970s as it is today (see O’Connor 2001), the NAACP and other civil rights activists were keenly aware of the worsening urban trends, especially as the Great Society programs were systematically circumvented. They considered school desegregation in the North, and later in the West, a crucial policy for increasing the organizational effectiveness of urban public schools to counteract non- school problems to the best extent possible. This was a limited but viable strategy, even after the 1974 Milliken ruling prohibited city-suburban desegregation plans, because there still remained a considerable chance to both tangibly and intangibly improve education by means of replacing neighborhood schools with integrated ones in light of the logic of public wellbeing. Such a radical change in the organizational form of public schools were to provide the majority of poor black students with greater funds, better facilities and supplies, affluent peers, better teachers, improved curricula, and better school services, at least for a while until desegregation became an infeasible strategy due to increased suburbanization of the affluent. Plus, urban decline was a gradual process, meaning that, although non-school problems were becoming more severe during the desegregation years, they were not as intense as they eventually became later on. Taking all these into account is only fair in judging the success of the most ambitiously

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egalitarian educational policy of the 20th century in America. The conceptual model in

Figure 3.2 depicts a number of hypotheses toward that end.

------

Figure 3.2 about here

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3.4.2. Basic hypotheses

After a brief period of relative recess in the second half of the 1970s, debates

about the causes, outcomes, and solutions of poverty—particularly black poverty— heated up again in the early 1980s. This time, however, the debate had a notably conservative tone. In the 1960s and early 1970s, a heavily liberal view was dominant, at least in scholarly and policy circles, where many considered the suffering and the deviant behavior of the urban poor a consequence of structural circumstances and racial

discrimination. By contrast, the dominant view in the new discourse treated poverty as

an outcome of individual behavior, social values, and even genetic differences (for

further discussion of the discursive shift, see Patterson 1986; Wilson 1987; Katz 1989;

O’Connor 2001). In particular, patterns of perpetual unemployment, single-parenthood,

neighborhood deterioration, criminal involvement, educational failure, and the lack of

property ownership among poor blacks were construed as intrinsic tendencies that

reproduced poverty. The Great Society programs, some of which had lingered on

throughout the 1970s, albeit in a greatly reduced form, were also blamed for poverty

because they were perceived as initiatives that not only rewarded idleness, but also

135

legitimized over-dependence of the federal government.25 The neo-ecological approach

to urban poverty was essentially an answer to the new conservative discourse. There

certainly was more urban poverty in the 1980s than before, and the neo-ecologists

provided an explanation that was consistent with the historical disadvantage of blacks in

America and how that disadvantage rendered poor ghetto residents particularly

vulnerable to the new economic and metropolitan patterns.

The postwar economic impoverishment that drove the erosion of affluent-style

family patterns has largely been associated with the process of urban deindustrialization, where many of the manufacturing industries, such as factories, steel mills, and construction disappeared (Wilson 1978, 1987; Bluestone and Harrison 1982; Freeman

1991; Sugrue 1993). These industries had been an abundant source of stable, low- and semi-skill jobs for many blacks migrating North from the rural South in the prewar era

(Hamilton 1964; Wilson 1978). Deindustrialization in later decades brought about high levels of chronic joblessness. The process unfolded in two ways.

First, a spatial mismatch has occurred as most jobs relocated to the suburbs (Kain

1968, 1992; Elwood 1986; Ihlanfeldt and Sjoquist 1998). The proportion of all manufacturing in the cities dropped from 66.1 percent in 1947 to less than 40 percent in

1970 (Wilson 1987). For instance, between 1967 and 1987, Philadelphia lost 64 percent

of its industrial jobs; Chicago lost 60 percent; New York 58 percent; Detroit 51 percent;

and Cleveland 54 percent (Kasarda 1995). The shortage of manufacturing jobs has

restricted income opportunities unstable, menial jobs with little security or benefits

(Rosenbaum and Popkin 1991; Bloch 1994). Also, urban residents have faced significant

25 This critical view was put forth by conservative observers, academics, and policymakers in the 1960s as well, but it became particularly prominent in the 1980s.

136 difficulties in obtaining stable, living-wage manufacturing and other low-skill jobs in the suburbs due to lack of information, isolation from job networks, travel time and costs, and considerable distrust and harassment from potential employers (Jenks and Mayer

1990; Krischenman and Neckerman 1991; Wilson 1996; Tilly et al. 2001).

The spatial mismatch was accompanied by an equally detrimental skills mismatch, whereby manufacturing employment in the cities was gradually replaced by white-collar, service employment such as in banking, advertising, brokering, consulting, accounting, and law (Wilson 1996). Between 1953 and 1984, New York lost nearly 600,000 manufacturing jobs and gained about 700,000 jobs in knowledge-intensive sectors; in the same categories, Philadelphia lost 280,000 and added 178,000, Baltimore lost 75,000 and added 84,000, and St. Louis lost 127,000 and added 51,000 (Kasarda 1986). The structural shift in the industry exceeded the skills and education levels of many blacks, causing high levels of permanent dropouts from the labor force, particularly among young men ages 20 to 29 (Wilson 1987). Bound and Holzer (1993) maintain that, in the

1970s alone, “up to half the employment declines for less-educated blacks might be explained by industrial shifts away from manufacturing toward other sectors” (p. 395).

By the early 1990s, nearly 60 percent of blacks in some cities had permanently dropped out of the labor force (Kasarda and Fai-Ting 1996).

Joblessness makes it difficult to maintain a double-parent family. It strains spousal relations and aggravates potential sources of conflict (Becker 1981). It also erodes the couples’ senses of efficacy and cooperation (Bakke 1940; Komarovsky 1940;

Elder 1974), resulting in permanent dysfunction or, more often, separation and divorce.

This is a principal reason why breakups have been frequent among urban black couples.

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Studies using longitudinal data from the 1960s and 1970s consistently show that

separation and divorce rates have been higher among lower class families enduring

prolonged lack of income (Cutright 1971; Duncan 1984), particularly for urban blacks

(Sawhill et al. 1975). In the 1950s, after at least 70 years of rough parity, black marriage

rates began to fall behind white rates (Besharov and West 2002). Black family breakups

increased by 30 percent between 1945 and 1980, when nearly one out of every four black

couples was separated or divorced (Wilson 1987). In the late-1980s, divorce was more

than twice and separation was about four times as high among blacks as among whites

(Besharov and West 2002). By the mid-1990s, 30 percent of black women aged 15 and over were married with a spouse, compared to about 57 percent of white women

(Lugailia 1999).

Joblessness also preempts marriage. Jobless males tend to make poor husbands and fathers, making them less attractive as marriage partners, even when pre-marital pregnancy is involved (Wilson 1987, 1996; Tucker and Mitchell-Kernan 1995). Low income, welfare dependency, and proclivity to crime are among the most frequent reasons for males to be considered unsuitable for marriage by females (Chapman 1997).

According to Mare and Winship (1991), changes in the employment rates of young black men explain over 20 percent of the decline in marriage rates between 1960 and 1990 (see also Stern 1993). Between 1950 and 2000, the percentage of never-married black women more than doubled, from 20.7 percent to 43.4 percent, close to two-thirds of this increase occurring in the post-1980 period (Cantave and Harrison 2001). In 1985, nearly 60 percent of all poor black families were headed by never-married women (Wilson 1987).

The number of “marriagable” (educated and employed) males in urban areas declined

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significantly in the 1970 and 1980s. As a result, mother-only households with at least one child increased by 77 percent from 1970 to 1984 (Wilson 1987). In the early 1990s, black men were much less likely to marry than white men of similar ages—75.8 marriages as opposed to 119.2 per 1000 (Cantave and Harrison 2001). Testa and Krogh

(1995) found that joblessness predicted non-marriage most pronouncedly for single black males ages 18 to 31. According to Hoffman, Duncan, and Mincy (1991), at least 25 percent of the decline in marriage among black women in their mid-20s can be accounted for by the decline in the income of young black men. According to Testa et al. (1989), employed urban fathers are twice as likely as non-employed ones to marry the mother of their first child.

Such patterns have significantly reduced the chances for the typical poor black child to grow up in a double-parent family. This is the most hidden and the most profound means by which economic conditions play a role in educational inequality.

Persistent joblessness in a deindustrialized context reproduces a pattern whereby many

children are born into or eventually end up in a deprived single-parent family, which,

when compared to the mainstream double-parent family, tends to fall short in quality of

care and nurturing that is critical for schooling. This structurally deficient form of family potentially aggravates the effects of the broader urban ecology on children’s life chances and makes it particularly difficult for the typical urban public school to successfully educate its students. In the prewar period, the majority of black schools benefited from

considerable cultural capital. However, that advantage gradually declined in the second

half of the 20th century, with severe implications during the desegregation years and

beyond. As shown in Figure 3.1,

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Hypothesis 1.—In the postwar urban ecology, the lack of economic capital available to black children through the family has been likely to increase the lack of cultural capital available through the family.

The geographic forces that have undermined the double-parent family in the

ghettos have resulted mainly from a process of intense residential segregation, whereby

many neighborhoods became racially isolated enclaves suffering from high levels of

deviance and despair (Wilson 1987, 1996; Massey and Denton 1993). These

neighborhoods had been a source of affordable housing for blacks in the prewar decades

and had managed to maintain affluent-like community characteristics (Drake and Cayton

1945). They were also much more integrated at the time than they would become after

the war—both in terms of race (Lieberson 1980; Massey and Denton 1993) and affluence

(Wilson 1978, 1987). By the late 1940s, discriminatory housing practices in the cities consolidated Jim Crow style separation between blacks and whites (Lieberson 1963;

Tauber and Tauber 1965; Sorensen, Tauber, and Hollingsworth 1975).26 This pattern

later expanded by means of racially selective suburbanization at the metropolitan level.

Normative pressures combined with legal measures to foster the isolation of poor blacks

in the ghettos. Biased mortgage and loan programs by the Federal Housing Authority and the Veterans Administration (Massey and Denton 1993) along with local real estate practices such as restrictive covenants, deed restrictions, redlining by banks and insurance companies, and blockbusting27 contributed to black isolation in the midst of

growing affluent suburbs (Bartlett 1993).

26 See Massey and Denton (1993, p. 17-59) regarding the difference between the isolation of blacks and the ethnic clustering of Euro-immigrants, who also occupied lower class positions. In the latter case, isolation was considerably lower and temporary. 27 Blockbusting was particularly common in the late 1960s and 1970s. It is a practice where a real estate agent would buy a few homes in a white neighborhood to sell them to carefully chosen black families and then plant rumors of a potential black invasion. This, in turn, would compel the remaining whites to sell

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The Fair Housing Act of 1968—a key component of the Great Society plan—

enabled a small proportion of blacks, comprised largely of affluent families, to participate

in the suburbanization process. However, most suburban communities continued to draw

tighter boundaries by manipulating zoning laws, land use controls, and site selection procedures (Katz 1993). Also, the federal failure to fight discrimination in housing

markets, indifference toward unspoken color lines, and acquiescence to the opposition of

organized suburban groups to the construction of public housing in their communities

resulted in massive segregated public housing projects in urban neighborhoods (Wilson

1987). In 1970, at least 70 percent of blacks would have had to move to achieve

residential integration in the average metropolis; the figure was close to 90 percent in

some locations (Sorensen et al. 1975).

In all, between 1950 and 1980, large cities lost nearly ten million residents, most

of whom were affluent whites, and added more than five million, many of them poor

blacks (Wilson 1987; Massey and Denton 1993) and increasingly Hispanics. By 1990,

Chicago had lost 23 percent of its population; Washington D.C. 25 percent; Detroit 44

percent; Cleveland 45 percent; St. Louis 54 percent (Caplow, Hicks, and Wattenberg

2000). The racial “politics of space” (Katznelson and Weir 1985) has given rise to what

Massey and Denton (1993) refer to as hypersegregation, a pattern which “removes blacks

from full participation in society and limits access to its benefits” (p. 74).

While deindustrialization and joblessness have ensured material poverty,

segregation has amplified the consequences of that suffering by promoting social

disorganization and weakening the social networks, values, and norms in previously

their homes at below-market values and relocate to the suburbs. The agent would eventually sell the vacant properties to new black buyers at huge profits (see Orser 1995; Seligman 2005).

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healthy communities (Sampson and Groves 1989). Most importantly, the “ghetto

subculture” has become dominant, encouraging a life style at odds with the rest of society

(Wilson 1987, 1996). This culture negates mainstream conduct. It is characterized by a

high disposition to crime, self-centeredness, lack of impulse control, early initiation to

sex, feelings of fatalism and inferiority, and alienation from mainstream institutions

(Lewis 1961). In a historically excluded ecology where most people are chronically

poor, where affluent residents are perpetually absent, and life chances are known to be

severely limited at the outset, deviant subcultural orientations are an important means for adaptation and survival (Lewis 1966; Swidler 1986).

Persistent segregation has damaged the communal features of urban

neighborhoods to such an extent that most of these neighborhoods have lost much of their

social capital. The best indication of this is the sharp rise in postwar crime rates.

Between 1950 and 1980, criminal activity (such as homicide, prostitution, and drug

trafficking) in urban communities increased by 40 percent (Wilson 1987). Throughout

the 1980s, drug-related crimes reached record highs, as they offered lucrative incomes to

jobless males (Blumstein 1995). Drugs boosted a number of other crimes. In the early

1980s, 66 percent of all those arrested for violent and property crimes in the cities were

under the age of 25 (U.S. Department of Justice 1985). In 1985, about 50 percent of poor

black males were arrested for a serious crime at least once compared to only 14 percent

of poor white males; and blacks were six times more likely to spend time in prison

(Petersilia 1985). Between 1985 and 1992, the murder rate for blacks under 24 increased

by 50 percent while the rate for those under 18 doubled (Blumstein 1995). High-poverty

census tracts—where at least 40 percent of residents are below the federal poverty line

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(Jargowsky 1997)—have become breeding grounds for “personal crimes” (e.g., robbery,

assault, homicide) (Krivo and Peterson 1996). In the mid-1990s, poor blacks in the U.S.

were involved with half the homicides and two-thirds of robbery arrests (Shihadeh and

Flynn 1996).

By far, the most insidious consequence of diminished social capital for the life

chances of a typical poor black child is the disruption of affluent-style family patterns and

subsequent limitations on effective parenting. Communities affected by the ghetto subculture typically fail to reproduce the norms and behaviors that support stable, double- parent families (Lewis 1961). This occurs in two ways. First, disposition to crime reduces the probability of starting a marriage and increases the failure rate for existing marriages. Criminal involvement and incarceration tend to alienate individuals from the concept of an affluent-style family life, and encourage non-marital relations which often become unstable when those involved have children (Sampson 1987; Anderson 1999).

For those already married with children, the ghetto subculture, combined with economic

hardship, becomes a compelling stimulus to search for quick ways of obtaining an

income. Crime is the most easily available alternative because collective sanctions

against it in the community are weak and the neighborhood often actively promotes crime

(Sampson, Raudenbush, and Earls 1997). Incarceration, death, and emotional instability of a spouse or partner due to criminal involvement are common reasons for single- parenthood in urban families (Sampson 1987).

The second and more prevalent means by which low neighborhood social capital

brings about single-parent families has to do with deviant sex codes, particularly among teenagers. Unprotected, pre-marital sex with multiple, uncommitted partners has been a

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fundamental source of out-of-wedlock births in urban areas (Wilson 1987, 1996). For

boys, who are often denied status in other domains, pre-marital sex and “hit-and-run”

parenthood are an important symbol of status (Anderson 1989). For girls, it is a strategic

gift in return for attention and is often a respectable thing, an “achievement” (Anderson

1989), even a means to freedom and financial autonomy given the likely qualification for

welfare assistance from the state or federal government (Wilson 1987, 1996). However,

while most adolescent boys deride fatherhood, girls lack the social and physical

experience to accomplish the lasting relationship and the motherhood they initially desire.

In addition, adolescents and young adults alike are deprived of affluent reference groups and concerned adults who can monitor their sexual conduct, advise protective strategies, and help with long-term plans for maintaining healthy families. According to Wilson

(1987), the exodus of affluent black households from urban neighborhoods throughout the 1970s and 1980s, most of whom were intact families, has undermined the perception that family stability is the norm, not the exception. The result has been a gradual dissociation between marriage and childbearing:

In communities where young people have little reason to believe that they have a promising future—including the prospects of stable employment and stable marriages—the absence of strong normative pressure to resolve out-of-wedlock pregnancies through marriage has resulted in an explosion of single-parent families. In such communities, adolescents and young adults are more likely to engage in behavior that jeopardizes their chances for social and economic mobility. (Wilson 1996, p. 107)

From 1950 to 1997, the proportion of births to unwed white women of all ages increased from 2 to 22 percent, compared to an increase from 18 to 69 percent for blacks

(Ventura 1995; Ventura et al. 1999). The same proportion for unwed black teens increased from 36 percent to a dramatic 96 percent (Moore et al. 1993; Ventura et al.

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1999). By the mid-1960s, the fertility rate for females aged 15 to 19 was at 79.4 per 1000

for whites and 156.1 per 1000 for blacks (Besharov and West 2002). Between 1960 and

1980, the fertility rate of married black women decreased by 50 percent while the rate for

unmarried black women went up by 40 percent (Bane 1986). The proportion of never-

married black mothers increased from 40 percent in 1960 to 85 percent in 1980; the

percentage for women ages 14 to 24 increased from eight to 24 in the same period

(Wilson 1987). In 1987, the birth rate for married black women actually fell below the

rate for unmarried ones, the first time that has ever happened for any ethnic group in the

U.S. (Besharov and West 2002). The rest of the 1980s and much of the 1990s were just

as bad.

Births to urban teens doubled between 1975 and 1995 (Wilson 1996). In 1996, 22

percent of all live births to blacks were to women under age 20, compared to just over 10

percent for white women and 13 percent for Hispanics (Ventura et al. 1999). Had the

fertility rate of unmarried black women remained stable from the prewar to postwar

decades, black children born-out-of-wedlock in 1997 would have been 35 percent instead

of 69 (Besharov and West 2002). Currently, a black child is three times more likely to be born out-of-wedlock than a white child is and, on average, will spend only six years in a double-parent family compared with 14 years for a white child and 13 years for a

Hispanic one (Bumpass and Lu 2000).

In essence, decades of segregation has interacted with joblessness to conspire against the normative foundations of the double-parent family. The structurally deficient single-parent family has gradually become the convention for many ghetto residents. For some, it is an explicit preference. This is the most hidden but profound means by which

145 impoverished neighborhood conditions play a role in educational inequality.

Neighborhoods with low social capital perpetuate norms and behaviors that multiply the chances for poor black children to grow up without the quality of parental care and nurturing that most other children in the class hierarchy benefit from. The resulting lack of cultural capital is a significant obstacle to for the typical urban public school to educate it students, a problem that many poor black children did not experience as much in the first half of the 20th century. Ineffective parenting has become ever more acute during the desegregation years and beyond. As shown in Figure 3.1,

Hypothesis 2.—In the postwar urban ecology, the lack of social capital available to black children through the family has been likely to increase the lack of cultural capital available through the family.

The systemic relationship between economic and social capital on the one hand and cultural capital on the other is a unique one. While adequate levels of cultural capital can absorb the effects of insufficient economic and social capital on children’s education—as it once did for many poor black children in the prewar decades—when that insufficiency intensifies, it undermines cultural capital to such an extent that the resulting ineffectiveness in parenting greatly magnifies the harmful influence of the lack of economic and social capital. In either case—meaning whether parenting functions positively or negatively—family characteristics have an inherently mediating role.

Contemporary research on human development provides important evidence in this regard. McLoyd (1990), for instance, points out that the nature of low income’s influence on poor black children is often contingent upon the degree of parental optimism, stress, and skill. Likewise, Dodge, Petit, and Bates (1994) and McLoyd et al.

(1994) show that the quality of the parent-child relationship significantly influences the

146 intensity of the association between economic despair and key outcomes such as academic achievement. Similar views and findings are available regarding the parental mediation of neighborhood effects. Jencks and Mayer (1990) emphasize that neighborhood impediments are likely to vary as a function of effectiveness in parenting.

Ainsworth (2002) found that family characteristics and processes mediate at least 40 percent of the broader community effects on educational performance (see also Klebanov et al. 1997). In some cases, neighborhood effects completely disappear once family characteristics are taken into account (e.g., Solon, Page, and Duncan 2000; Linver et al.

2004). In a recent study, Sanbonmatsu et al. (2006) determined that neighborhood improvement—through a federally funded relocation program—had no substantial effect on the academic achievement of poor and predominantly black urban students. Short- term gains tended to dissipate after the three-year mark, most likely due to the absence of equivalent improvements in family wellbeing and the resulting lack of cultural capital.

Research on human development also elucidates the complex processes by which poor single-parent families fail to provide children with adequate levels of cultural capital. First of all, the absence of the second parent, usually the father, is a common impediment regardless of race and affluence because it makes the key parental tasks harder to accomplish (Furstenberg and Cherlin 1991). The single parent typically has to put in twice the time, energy, and effort necessary for childrearing and may therefore fail in a variety of ways, resulting in adjustment problems in children (Peterson and Zill

1986; Simons et al. 1999). Also, the potential problems that are common in all children are usually harder for a single parent to bear alone (Simons et al. 1999). While some single parents, especially affluent ones, may successfully overcome the difficulties (Ford-

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Gilboe 2000), those that are poor and locked into impoverished and racially isolated neighborhoods frequently fail. Their lack of education, limited financial resources, and low occupational status are important disadvantages in this regard. These factors severely curtail the parent’s efficacy and confidence in performing caregiving roles

(Elder et al. 1995). Constant deprivation also inhibits the parent’s resiliency. In the case of younger single parents, such as teen mothers, the difficulties are multiplied due to inexperience, immaturity, and lack of social support from peers and extended family members (Dornbusch et al. 1985; Kozol 1988; McLoyd 1990; Wilson 1987, 1996). Not having reached the proper age of motherhood, teen mothers are particularly susceptible to the adverse effects of poverty and isolation. These parents are officially the poorest and the most disadvantaged group in America (Besharov and West 2002). Therefore, they often have insurmountable difficulties in attending to the needs and controlling the behavior of children.

Most importantly, the circumstances that poor single parents have to endure may elicit mental and emotional difficulties, which make it even harder to function effectively.

Black parents who raise their children in the ghetto context are uniquely vulnerable to varying degrees of depression (Downey and Coyne 1990)—a condition characterized by persistent sadness, fatigue, irritability and emotional withdrawal (American Psychiatric

Association 1994). Economic impoverishment engenders feelings of failure and hopelessness, and puts enormous strains on the parent, who may become ill tempered and indifferent (Gelles 1989; Swanson, Holzer, and Canavan 1989; McLoyd 1990; Barber and Eccless 1992; Yeung, Linver, and Brooks-Gunn 2002). Similarly, the lack of a functional community environment—for instance, the absence of role models, helpful

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neighbors, and mutually-nurturing friendships—causes significant distress in the parent

(Weinraub and Wolfe 1983; Tietjen 1985; Hashima and Amato 1994; Klebanov, Brooks-

Gunn, and Duncan 1994). The resulting depression leads to low self-esteem and a

fatalistic outlook on life (Swanson, Holzer, and Canavan 1989).

Depression curbs the parent’s sensitivity and engagement with the child and is

therefore psychologically and behaviorally harmful (Beardslee et al. 1983; DeMulder and

Radke-Yarrow 1991; Cummings and Davies 1992). Depressed single parents are less

responsive to children’s physical and emotional needs than are un-depressed parents, and

are often slow, less contingent, and less consistent in responding. A recent study by the

National Institute of Child Health and Human Development (1999) found that depressed

single mothers tend to display detachment when playing with their children. Compared to a control group, they interact less proactively, show less positive affect, and cooperate

less with their children. In addition, they may discourage their children regarding

opportunities for learning and exploration (see also DeMulder and Radke-Yarrow 1991;

Cummings and Davies 1994).

Finally, depressed single parents tend to have fewer rules, dispense harsher

discipline, and are more inconsistent in dispensing discipline (Astone and McLanahan

1992; Hetherington and Clingenpeel 1992; McLoyd et al. 1994). According to

Florsheim, Tolan, and Gamoran-Smith (1998), these parents tend to be less able to

maintain a developmentally appropriate mix of control and autonomy-granting behavior.

In some cases, parental depression may bring about hostility and violence toward the

child. McLoyd (1988), for instance, found that poor black single mothers, who reported

high levels of depression and distress, resorted to putative strategies more often and

149 tended to hit and scold children more frequently than did other parents. Harsh and inconsistent discipline is a strong predictor of children’s maladjustment in single-parent families (Buehler and Gerard 2002).

The potential depression of urban single parents is perhaps the least visible but most potent obstruction to cultural capital for children. Children of depressed parents tend to develop negative self-concept and low self-respect (Jaenicke et al. 1987;

McLanahan and Sandefur 1994). They suffer from poor regulation of negative affect

(Tronick and Gianino 1986; Weintraub, Winters, and Neale, 1986), attachment difficulties, sense of distrust and aggression towards peers and authority figures (Amato

1991), and ultimately, full-fledged psychological depression (Downey and Coyne 1990).

Also, these children often display withdrawal in social contexts and fail to communicate in enriching ways. They opt for cognitively simple yet emotionally burdensome strategies in handling interpersonal challenges and conflict. Extreme responses to others such as full obedience or full dominance are frequent, rather than negotiated solutions that build mutual trust and character (Downey and Coyne 1990).

The socio-emotional problems of children also lead to disruptive, impulsive, and self-destructive behaviors, particularly when children are among peers, such as in school or in the playground (Munroe-Blum et al. 1989; Turner et al. 1991). This further undermines their development and curbs their ability to discover and improve innate talents and motivation. Last but not least, the children of depressed parents are typically more susceptible than other children are to the influence of negative role models and deviant peers (Steinberg 1987). Such effects have a tendency to become permanent. For example, parenting practices of depressed single parents have been found to predict low

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social status, low employment attainment, and troubled marriages in adulthood (Amato

1991; Schneider and Coleman 1993; Aquilino 1996; Wu and Wolfe 2001). Children of

depressed teens are three times more likely than other ones to be involved in criminal

activity at some point between ages 14 and 24 (Maynard 1997).

Obviously, the internal processes that are typical of the poor single-parent family

structure in the current urban ecology entail the exact opposite of proper cultural capital necessary for supporting education. In a report to Congress regarding children growing up in predominantly black single-parent families in ghetto circumstances, the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) indicated that these children

tend to receive lower grades, have more behavior problems, and have higher rates of chronic health and psychiatric disorders. Among adolescents and young adults, being raised in a single-mother family is associated with elevated risks of teenage childbearing, high school dropout, incarceration, and with being neither employed nor in school. (DHHS 1995, p. xiii)

Parental shortcomings and psychological problems consistently predict lower reading and math scores, lower grade achievement, and inferior verbal communication and cognitive scores for poor black children (Hetherington, Cox, and Cox 1978;

Thompson, Alexander and Entwisle 1988). According to Heiss (1996), the relative insensitivity, unresponsiveness, and discouragement on the part of black single mothers significantly decrease children’s years of schooling. Similar problems double the chances for dropping out of high school (McLanahan and Sandefur 1994). Using a longitudinal data set regarding children born to teen mothers in Baltimore during the

1966-1968 period, Brooks-Gunn, Guo, and Furstenberg (1993) found that the presence of the father was highly predictive of high school graduation. Two separate meta-analyses

(Amato and Keith 1991a, 1991b) indicate that low quality of the parent-child relationship

151 is a principal cause of behavioral and discipline problems for children at school and reduction in their educational performance. According to Remez (1992), in double- parent families, the parents’ (particularly the mother’s) emotional and behavioral involvement significantly increases children’s educational attainment and reduces their likelihood of delinquency at school. In another important study, Battle (1998) found that the educational achievement of black students with affluent single parents is more than twice as good as those with poor single parents, the difference having much to do with the potential depression and the resulting ineffectiveness of the latter type of parent.

Ideally, public schools designed to function as great equalizers should enable

student success regardless of the nature and magnitude of non-school obstacles.

However, no society can realistically expect its public schools alone to nullify undue

class disparities when the family structure of poor children tends aggravate the influence

of economic and neighborhood problems and thus work against effective schooling.28

28 The significance of cultural capital has, in recent years, stimulated the search for “best practices” that disadvantaged parents can adopt. After all, there is room for agency even in the direst circumstances. Whether in a single- or double-parent household, some poor black parents possess such good parenting skills and are so committed to their children’s future that they facilitate educational success in school regardless of other drawbacks. These exceptional parents raise their children in ways that even stretch Bourdieu’s (1986/1997) basic definition of cultural capital. Not only do they inculcate habitus at home and get actively involved in the public schools, but they also fiercely protect their children from potential detriments in their surroundings. They maintain stable incomes and enforce strict rules and tight supervision, monitor and scrutinize their children’s friendships, question them about their daily activities, and accompany them to neighborhood events (Jarrett 1992, 1995, 1997; Furstenberg and Cherlin 1993). Their approach to parenting can even transcend the geographic boundaries of the neighborhood as they encourage their children to develop relationships with affluent peers, adults, relatives, and institutions outside the local community (Martin and Martin 1978; Zollar 1985). These parents practice a “creative” family management style that enables their children to succeed in school and beyond (Furstenberg et al. 1999). According to Jarrett (1999), “inner-city neighborhoods with limited social, economic, and institutional resources demand that parents be ‘super-parents’ to ensure conventional development of their adolescents” (p. 48). However, non-school inequality, like other inequalities in the class hierarchy, is a matter of averages. It has to do with the difference between the economic, social, and cultural deprivation of the average poor child and that of the average affluent one. Therefore, it is always possible to find ghetto children—whether in a single- or double-parent family—who are parented similarly or even better than the average affluent child is, or to find affluent children parented less effectively than the average ghetto child is. The benefits of exceptional parenting are partly the reason why there is a massive literature on parental

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Under such circumstances, the schools may actually be trapped by the very problems they

are supposed to counteract, and further limit, rather than improve, students’ life chances

(Kozol 1991, 2004; Anyon 1997, 2005; Rothstein 2004). Simply put, there is an upper

limit to the extent to which the public schools can counteract non-school problems and

facilitate equal start, even if the schools are made of gold. For poor black children in the

ghettos, that limit was likely reached during the desegregation years when the organizational form of urban public schools was radically altered.

Replacing the concept of the neighborhood school with that of the integrated school equalized urban education to a degree that has not been possible ever since. In other words, racial integration brought the urban public schools closer to the ideal of the great equalizer than any of the more recent reform efforts have been able to do. For a brief period, poor black students were exposed to the same tangible and intangible features at school that many of their affluent counterparts had taken for granted.

Obviously, if the basic features of the school (e.g., funds, facilities, supplies, teachers, peers, and curriculum) that a disadvantaged student attends do not reflect his or her social

class background, then the school is potentially more capable to counteract the influence

of the student’s lack of cultural capital as well as the underlying lack of economic and

social capital. Although the student’s family structure may fall short in buffering

economic and neighborhood impediments and the student may therefore fail in school, a

involvement in public education (see Henderson and Mapp 2002 for a review). But super-parents are an exception, not the norm, and the fact that some urban children have them does not change the fact that most do not. The fact that some poor black children beat the odds with the help of outstanding parenting (or other idiosyncratic reasons) does not constitute sufficient grounds for focusing on the styles and practices of super-parents. As Rothstein (2004) notes, “In human affairs where multiple causation pertains causes are not disproved by exceptions. … We don’t insist that speeding does not cause highway deaths because we all know speeders who did not crash” (p. 62). The sobering truth is that most poor black children do not have effective parents, let alone “super” ones, due in large part to the ways in which postwar deindustrialization and segregation have undermined urban family patterns.

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racially integrated and equal school would, at the very least, have less of a role to play in

that failure than a separate and unequal neighborhood school would. Depending on the

degree of parental effectiveness for the particular student, an integrated school may even

prevent the student’s failure and actually promote success in ways consistent with the

notion of the great equalizer.

Besides, while the risk of the average poor black student to be born into or eventually end up in a structurally deficient single-parent family has increased steadily in the postwar decades, it was not as high during the peak years of school desegregation

(1970s and 1980s) as it ultimately became in subsequent years. Therefore, although parental ineffectiveness has been a severe impediment regardless of school desegregation, it was possibly less of a problem for integrated schools than it was for neighborhood schools in the post-desegregation era.

Finally, there is the issue of the concentration of non-school problems within

urban schools. Desegregation scholars have invariably found that majority-black

neighborhood schools in urban school systems tend to be inferior in both quality and

effectiveness because they concentrate students’ economic poverty as well as racial

background (e.g., Lippman et al. 1996; Orfield and Ashkinaze 1991). When more than

80 percent of the students in a given school are black and more than 50 percent are on

subsidized lunch, the school typically fails in providing a decent education. This, of

course, is an observation that echoes the basic problem addressed by Brown. But, there is

an important element that goes unnoticed within that observation, an element that is

particularly pertinent to the postwar urban ecology. Segregated neighborhood schools

serving poor black students are likely to concentrate parental ineffectiveness as well,

154 because many of their students are likely to lack the nurturing and care that their affluent counterparts tend to receive at home, along with the parental competence and initiative critical for their parents to become involved in the structure and functioning of the schools. Without a certain degree of the cultural capital to buffer the ill effects of economic and neighborhood problems on the students, segregated neighborhood schools face even greater challenges in helping their students succeed. In contrast, integrated schools imply a significant re-distribution of cultural capital across the schools.

Undoing the concept of the neighborhood school in an urban district that has a reasonable percentage of affluent, working-class, and near-poor white families, renders the average school for a poor black child less deprived of effective parents to draw on, parents who curb the effects of economic and neighborhood problems on children. The same is true if there remain a certain percentage of affluent or near-affluent black families in the district as well, because those families are likely to possess a considerable degree of cultural capital too. In any case, it becomes easier for a given school to attend to the needs and problems of its poor black students when a considerable degree of the parents inculcate habitus at home and get involved in school affairs. As a result, the school would have better prospects to succeed in its efforts to accomplish its great equalizer goal.

The value of racially integrated schools in pursuing the uniquely American ideal of public education as the great equalizer has not been evaluated judiciously with regard to deprived urban districts due to (1) the failure to distinguish between the success of the individual student and the organizational effectiveness of the school to help the student succeed, and (2) the lack of an adequate account of the urban non-school context and of a proper theory of the specific dynamics by which that context interacts with the public

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schools. As shown in Figure 3.2, two hypotheses are plausible concerning the potential

difference desegregation made for the life chances of the majority of poor black students,

at least in the brief period when the racial demographics of urban districts made

meaningful levels of integration possible,

Hypothesis 3a.—In the postwar urban ecology, the effectiveness of integrated schools in helping black students succeed was influenced positively while that of the segregated neighborhood schools was influenced negatively by the lack of cultural capital available to black children (because integrated schools were better equipped and had more access to cultural capital); or,

Hypothesis 3b.—In the postwar urban ecology, the effectiveness of integrated schools in helping black students succeed was influenced either less negatively or more positively than that of the segregated neighborhood schools was by the lack of cultural capital available to black children (because integrated schools were better equipped and had more access to cultural capital).

3.4.3. Dynamics concerning white children

A key concern among white families, several policymakers, and education scholars during the desegregation era was the potential damage of racial mixing to the education of white students. Both the busing of white students to schools in black

neighborhoods and the busing of “unruly” black students to schools in white

neighborhoods were deemed threatening to the quality of schooling for whites. In reality,

however, this rarely was the case. Whatever academic gains incurred on the part of poor

black students, it was seldom at the expense of whites’ learning and growth. Twenty out

of 23 studies conducted through the mid-1980s showed either improvement or no effect

on the schooling of whites after desegregation (Hochschild and Skovronick 2003; see

also Armor 2002).29 Harm occurred only when, a poorly and irresponsibly designed

integration plan placed a small percentage of white students in a heavily black school

29 For a review of studies from the 1970s and early 1980s regarding “white harm,” see Mahard and Crain (1983), who also conclude that desegregation did not impede white achievement.

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with a high concentration of children from single-parent families. Unfortunately, such

assignment patterns became inadvertently frequent pattern toward the end of the 1980s

(Caldas and Bankston III 2005), when, as a result of the affluent exodus and persistent

joblessness, the majority of urban districts became predominantly black and poor, and the

double-parent family structure became markedly rare.

Considerations of desegregation outcomes for urban whites should take into account the racial differences in the interaction of public schools with the non-school context. Although smaller as a group, urban white children have ultimately been exposed to similar non-school challenges as poor black ones have. Therefore, they, like blacks,

have relied on the public schools as organizations of salvation. In other words, whether they attended segregated neighborhood schools or racially integrated schools, many urban white children and their families have construed public education as the great equalizer the same way as many poor black ones have. However, whites have had two important advantages. First and most obviously, white neighborhood schools prior to

urban desegregation had typically been superior to black neighborhood schools, which meant that the white schools were likely to be more effective in counteracting non-school disadvantages of whites. Second, while the dynamics of non-school deprivation (i.e., the

causal structure shown in Figure 3.2) has been the same for whites as for blacks, the magnitude of the deprivation has been smaller for urban whites than for blacks.

Therefore, non-school problems have commonly posed less of a challenge for the schooling of urban white students. And, since desegregation, especially when done well, was designed to equalize schooling rather than shift the burden of hardship to whites, integrated schools were likely to be at least as effective in counteracting white non-school

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problems as they were in counteracting black non-school problems. It is plausible that

integrated schools were more effective in regards to white non-school problems since the average white student was impeded to a lesser degree by the urban non-school context

than his or her black counterpart was.

Neo-ecological insights on white disadvantage and implications for school desegregation

While the neo-ecological approach to urban poverty is instrumental in addressing black poverty in the postwar period, it also illuminates the differences between black and white disadvantage. First, black poverty in America has historically accumulated because problems such as low income and family dissolution are in part intergenerationally transmitted (Frazier 1950, 1962; Moynihan 1965; Pope and Mueller

1976; Wilson 1978, 1987). While many ethnic, religious, and racial minorities have experienced discrimination in different periods and at various degrees in the history of the U.S., the discrimination against African-Americans has been the longest, most persistent, most widespread, and, most extreme (Hochschild 1988; Lipset 1992). The postwar urban decay did not create despair where it had not existed before. Rather, it exacerbated the traditional disadvantage of urban blacks. “If large segments of the

African-American population had not been historically segregated,” Wilson (1996) stresses, “we would not be talking about the new urban poverty” (p. 23).

Second and most importantly, given the difference in the experiences of urban whites and poor blacks, the average urban white child’s lack of economic, social, and cultural capital has not been as extensive as that of the average poor black child’s has.

Specifically, the nature of the white disadvantage has put less pressure on the double-

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parent family structure, meaning potentially more cultural capital for white children. For

instance, whites’ loss of income has been less dramatic and rather temporary, resulting in

a lower density of single-parent families. Unemployment spells are shorter for urban

whites than they are for poor blacks. Spatial and skills mismatches in the metropolitan

labor market have disposed poor blacks to search for jobs where employment growth has

been consistently low (Stoll and Raphael 2000), a disparity that has been particularly high

for younger individuals (Ihlanfeldt and Sjoquist 1990, 1991; O’Regan 1993). Also, racial segregation has undermined blacks’ access to labor markets in prosperous downtown areas (Jargowsky 1997). According to Bane and Elwood (1986), the poverty spell for poor blacks has been as long as two decades. Since white disadvantage has been less intense and has tended to last shorter, it has been easier for urban whites to start and maintain double-parent families (Wilson 1987, 1996). While local labor market dynamics affect marriage patterns irrespective of race (Winkler 1994), the black-white difference in the effects of earning disparities on family structure has grown ever wider

from the late 1970s onward (Chung, Darity, and Myers 1998).

Poor blacks have been worse off than urban whites also due to the concentration

effects of neighborhood social disorganization (Wilson 1987; Massey and Denton 1993;

Jargowsky 1997). Concentration is defined as “the degree to which poverty and other

disadvantages are confined to a limited number of neighborhoods” in a given urban area

(Krivo et al. 1998, p. 62). According to Massey and Denton (1993), the interaction of

segregation with poverty has been a principal factor in maintaining relatively less

deprived geographic spaces for whites in urban areas. Whites have managed to insulate

themselves from a variety of problems in high poverty neighborhoods where poor blacks

159 are concentrated, such as crime and poor social services (Peterson and Krivo 1999). “The higher the degree of segregation, the higher the degree of poverty concentration for blacks and the lower the degree of exposure to poverty by whites” (Massey and Denton

1993, p. 122). White urban neighborhoods have tended to be more stable and organized than black ones have, and some have maintained “inner-ring” suburban characteristics.

Subsequently, white neighborhoods have been affected relatively less by the ghetto subculture and could more effectively support the values and beliefs that underpin the double-parent family structure. As distressed as they have been, white neighborhoods have experienced lower levels of crime, less deviance in sex codes, and lower rates out- of-wedlock births. Krivo et al. (1998) have determined that concentrated neighborhood poverty predicts female-headed households more strongly for blacks than it does for whites. Kasarda (1993) found that, throughout the 1980s, black family dissolution in large cities increased substantially while it decreased or remained relatively stable for whites and Hispanics.

Essentially, due to small but important class advantages, white children have endured better “sub-ecologies” in urban areas than poor black ones have. Educationally, this implies a double advantage. On the one hand, although economic and neighborhood problems of urban whites are a considerable impediment to schooling, the extent of these problems has not been as detrimental to the double-parent family structure as the extent of similar problems for poor blacks have. On the other hand, because urban white children have had access to more cultural capital, their parents have tended to be more effective than the parents of poor black children have in buffering the adverse effects of economic and neighborhood problems on education. In simple terms, the average urban

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white student has been likelier to receive more nurturing and support at home as well as

benefit from more parental involvement in the schools than his or her poor black

counterpart has. This has been a significant asset for urban public schools. And, since

desegregation was designed to equalize schooling for both races, integrated schools possibly found it easier to counteract the non-school disadvantages of white children than to counteract those of black children. Two hypotheses are plausible in this regard:

Hypothesis 4a.—In the postwar urban ecology, the lack of cultural capital was likely to influence the effectiveness of integrated schools in helping white students succeed either more positively or less negatively than it was likely to influence the effectiveness of these schools in helping black students succeed.

However,

Hypothesis 4b.—This contrast was likely to weaken under conditions where white students were assigned to schools with unreasonably high concentrations of poor black students from disorganized neighborhoods and single-parent families—an assignment pattern resulting from either poor implementation of the desegregation policy or the eventual racial isolation and social deterioration at the district level due to increased poverty and affluent suburbanization.

3.5. FULL-FLEDGED LATENT CONFLICT AROUND SEGREGATED

SCHOOLING

Disaffection with urban school desegregation had grown significantly by the end

of the 1980s among both whites and blacks. Due to the ever smaller proportion of whites

in many urban districts, black students were being yanked around from one majority-

black school to another in order to keep desegregation plans alive. This was no longer a

meaningful remedy for poor black children. White students were increasingly

inconvenienced as well, since they too were constantly re-assigned to different schools

for concerns over maintaining at least a minimum level of racial balance across the

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schools. Besides, student-level academic improvements among black students were

nominal. Some students were even at risk of academic losses due to frequent changes in

school assignments.

However, none of these patterns meant that urban school desegregation had

failed, because, as Irons (2002) bluntly asserts, that policy “was never seriously tried” (p.

338). Racial integration of the public schools was not given a chance to be implemented

meaningfully in the metropolitan areas of the North and the West due to unrelenting

affluent resistance and indifference, as well as the federal, particularly constitutional,

constraints imposed on it at the outset, such as the Milliken ruling. Besides,

desegregation was put into practice while non-school problems in the postwar urban

ecology were allowed to worsen, which is likely to have impeded student-level academic

progress significantly. Under those conditions, urban school desegregation could most

properly be characterized as a policy that prevented unfair educational inequality from

becoming even deeper than it actually did, at least during the peak years of desegregation.

Racial mixing was an intervention that potentially improved the organizational effectiveness of the schools to counteract the non-school problems of poor black children

in the postwar urban ecology. This is why it was a crucial policy.

Despite its progressive value, though, urban school desegregation was gradually

discredited due to the unattainability of its officially proclaimed promises. Even worse,

since the urban school systems had become predominantly black (and increasingly

Hispanic), the bottom-up opportunity for poor blacks to demand desegregation

completely faded. In other words, by the late 1980s, the discussion of desegregation was dying. Without white students to put in them, the NAACP could no longer demand

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integrated schools. Therefore, racial integration in public education was losing its status

as the predominant black preference, at least as a preference that the majority of blacks

could unite around. By virtue of this change, it also became more difficult than ever to

address the non-school problems of poor black children and demand radical remedies

such as the War on Poverty. Given the declining ability to voice school-related problems,

how could the NAACP and other prominent social movement organizations (SMOs) and

activists meaningfully and persistently voice even thornier issues such as the lack of

economic, social, and cultural capital in the organizational environment of the schools?

After all, remedying non-school problems would require greater national effort and

sacrifice of class privileges than does the issue of school segregation. Besides, non-

school problems have paradigmatically remained outside the scope of American

education policy, particularly at the peril of poor black students.

In many ways, the feasibility of even a limited degree of school desegregation

within urban school systems in earlier decades had made it possible for the NAACP to put forth unyielding and unequivocal racial arguments—“You have it, we don’t!” “We were done to!” However, by the end of the 1980s, the unavailability of any meaningful solution to help poor black children—by targeting either their school-related disadvantages or non-school disadvantages, or, preferably, both—precluded an unwavering articulation of the problem of unfair educational inequality. Simply put,

class dynamics were causing a discursive change with regard to unequal education.

Manifest conflict could no longer be sustained at levels that it once was because the preventative power of the dominant group in race relations had created conditions that

forced the conflict of interests to once again become latent. In other words, racial

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isolation in urban districts had not only undermined the feasibility of school

desegregation, but also curbed the chances for open controversy concerning ways to

improve the life chances of poor black children.

Although racial isolation in the ghettos was a fundamental factor in stimulating

the eventual rise of latent conflict, there were a number of other factors as well that

helped restrict the political opportunity structure even further. Some of these factors

emerged during the 1980s, when school desegregation was being implemented with full force in many urban districts; others became prevalent in the 1990s.

3.5.1. The 1980s

By far, the most important change in educational rhetoric and practice that occurred in the 1980s was the rise of the “achievement” paradigm, which was a key component of Reagan administration’s neo-liberal approach to economic and social policy. President Reagan was particularly hostile to school desegregation and any other effort that implied heavy governmental involvement in public services (Amaker 1988).

One of his campaign promises was to eliminate the entire U.S. Department of Education, which, he could not fulfill. But, in 1983, his National Commission on Excellence in

Education (NCEE), published A Nation at Risk, a highly influential report that emphasized the danger the country faced if the academic achievement of children did not improve. “Our once unchallenged preeminence in [the world],” the report asserted,

is being overtaken by competitors throughout the world…. The educational foundations of our society are presently being eroded by a rising tide of mediocrity that threatens our very future as a Nation and as a people…. We have, in effect, been committing an act of unthinking, unilateral educational disarmament (NCEE 1983, p. 1).

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A Nation at Risk profoundly altered priorities in American public education: superiority in education became more important than equity in education (Tyack and

Cuban 1995; Mondale and Patton 2001). The role of the public schools in contributing to the individual’s private wellbeing—particularly in preparation for employment and economic success—became more of a concern than what the schools could do with regard to collective or public wellbeing (Grubb and Lazerson 2004). Balancing public and private interests was no longer a high priority, at least not as high as it had been earlier. In some ways, the emphasis on the logic of public wellbeing in the design and evaluation in the previous two decades were derided as wasteful and utopic.

Prior to Reagan, Presidents who did not support school desegregation chose either to actively resist or to simply remain indifferent to the extent to which desegregation could be used to facilitate equal start for unfairly disadvantaged children. In contrast,

President Reagan sparked a radical retreat from all types of welfare policy (Piven and

Cloward 1985) and reframed public education solely in terms of its value in reinvigorating individual and national competitiveness. Even the racial inequality in education was re-termed the “achievement gap.”

Despite the “national dangers and risks” that A Nation at Risk addressed, the real crisis was prevalent where it had always been: the education of poor and predominantly black students (Berliner and Biddle 1995). Public education for the overwhelming majority of affluent students remained effective. But, the achievement rhetoric constituted a convenient cover for the national failure in remedying unfair educational inequality in the class hierarchy during the previous decade and a half. In order to explain inequality, the achievement rhetoric essentially focused on the behavioral,

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psychological, and socio-cultural tendencies of the student and the family. The

organizational features of the school, such as bureaucratic design and structure, the

efficacy of the staff and teachers, and the leadership of the principal also received

attention, though to a significantly smaller extent; these would become major concerns in

the 1990s. In essence, the achievement rhetoric paid due attention neither to the causes

and consequences of entrenched non-school problems, nor to the implications of the

localist tradition (i.e. the neighborhood school) on racial disparities in public schooling

received sufficient attention. As Graham (2005) points out,

For many Americans who did not want to be called racist, it seemed easier to fight for greater academic achievement, a goal that few would dispute, than to deal with disparities between blacks and whites, rich and poor directly. If the child failed to achieve, the blame could rest either with the child, or the school, and Americans could conveniently ignore the profoundly different cultural resources [i.e., cultural capital] affecting wealthy white children and poor black ones. (p. 160)

The search for new initiatives was aimed at accomplishing “excellence for all”

without challenging the concept of the neighborhood school and without acknowledging

how the lack of cultural capital, as well as the underlying lack of economic and social

capital, precluded excellence for poor black children. Instituting more robust curricula,

demanding better results from schools and teachers, testing students more often, and

holding the students to higher standards were deemed crucial elements of reform, while the basic structure of educational privilege in the class hierarchy was ignored. Naturally,

most urban schools were at a disadvantage due to their potentially low organizational

capability, and the extent of the non-school impediments they faced in their efforts to

facilitate student achievement at newly specified levels.

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The Reagan administration’s perspective on education signaled further limitations on the already low top-down opportunity for open contention concerning unfair educational inequality. President Reagan first came to power as the Governor of

California in 1966 on the strength of his opposition to the 1964 Civil Rights Act and his tough stance on the rioters in Watts, Los Angeles in 1965. As President, he filled the

Civil Rights Commission and the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission with bureaucrats and policymakers who shared his desire to limit, if not eliminate, several civil rights programs. Basically, he transformed key governmental agencies “into forums opposed to court-ordered busing and to the preferential treatment of minorities” (Sitkoff

1993, p. 218). President Reagan even sought to restore federal tax exemptions to private schools that practiced racial discrimination (but was blocked by the Supreme Court in

1983), and lobbied against the renewal of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 on the basis that the Act was “humiliating to the South,” until severe criticism by Senate Republicans forced him to desist (Cannon 2000).

Although Congressional and Senate actions in the 1980s tamed extreme

Presidential offensives against civil rights accomplishments, these two legislative corners of the federal diamond proceeded in other ways to further limit the top-down opportunity for manifest conflict. In the 1978 and 1980 elections, the electorate had ousted numerous

Democratic and Republican supporters of civil rights from the Congress and the Senate.

The new legislators narrowed the scope of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act

(ESEA), which was originally passed as part of the President Johnson’s Great Society

Program in 1965 (see chapter 2) and renamed it in 1981 as the Education Consolidation

Improvement Act. In its new form, the Act included severe restrictions on the extent to

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which the federal government could inquire about segregation in the schools and impose and monitor desegregation. In 1982, the Senate overwhelmingly passed the second

Neighborhood Schools Act30 which included five key “statements of fact” (see Rossell

and Hawley 1983, p. 1-8):

(1) Court orders requiring transportation of students to or attendance at public schools other than the one closest to their residencies for the purpose of achieving racial balance or racial desegregation have been proven to be ineffective remedies to achieve unitary school systems.

(2) Such court orders frequently result in the exodus of public school children, causing even greater racial imbalance and diminished public support for public school systems.

(3) Assignment and transportation of students to public schools other than the one closest to their residence is expansive and wasteful of scarce petroleum fuels.

(4) There is an absence of social science evidence to suggest that the [benefits] of school busing outweigh the disruptiveness of busing.

(5) The assignment of students to public schools closest to their residence (neighborhood public schools) is the preferred method of public school attendance.

Each of these five statements is a truism, constituting a politically disembodied

attribution of a negative outcome to a fundamentally progressive and egalitarian policy that is in fact squarely consistent with the American ideal of public education as the great equalizer. What is missing from the rhetorical context is any mention of the class

dynamics that encumbered urban school desegregation at the outset by limiting its geographic scope and imposing an eventual expiration date on it, and by allowing non- school problems to worsen and thus impede meaningful progress in student-level achievement during desegregation.

30 The first Neighborhood Schools Act was passed in 1974 (see chapter 2).

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Statements one and two reflect the consequences of the predominantly white

affluent resistance to and indifference toward school desegregation. They also denote the

implications of the constitutional prohibition on possible city-suburban desegregation plans. Statement three is an exaggeration of the economic costs of school desegregation.

On average, busing added no more than three percentage points to existing transportation costs of a district (Rossell and Hawley 1983). Even if the costs were higher, they should not have mattered given the ideals that school desegregation had represented. Statement

number four is also an exaggeration. While there indeed was a lack of solid improvement

in the educational outcomes of poor black children, several studies had found at least some degree of improvement, particularly when students were desegregated in early

elementary grades (Mahard and Crain 1983). As mentioned earlier, the basic problem

was that the improvement was rarely sufficient enough to close the racial gap. Most

importantly, it is unfair to evaluate student-level academic outcomes of desegregation at a

time when non-school problems severely curtailed individual performance. Rather than

focusing on the changes in individual student success, school desegregation ought to be

evaluated with regard to the extent to which it improved the organizational effectiveness

of the schools to counteract the adverse effects of non-school problems and help students

succeed. Finally, statement five is a re-articulation of the obvious affluent preference to

maintain the concept of the neighborhood school. Notwithstanding this pattern, there was also evidence at the time that a significant portion of both white and black parents who did send their children to integrated schools outside of their neighborhoods were overwhelmingly satisfied with the experience (Harris 1977). In addition, some studies in the late 1980s determined that a substantial percentage of affluent parents found it

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acceptable, even preferable, to send their children to integrated schools outside their

neighborhoods as long as these schools did not have high concentrations of poor black

students in them (Rossell 1990).

The five statements of fact posited by the Neighborhood Schools Act of 1982

pertained to the increasingly prevalent biases about school desegregation in the policy

and public domains during the 1980s. These biases would become even more

pronounced in the 1990s. Urban school desegregation was destined to be perceived as a

“mistake,” a harmful policy of social engineering. The ideals and the moral imperatives

that it embodied and the pattern of preventative power that undermined desegregation

were largely ignored. However, no modern industrialized society can completely ignore the need for policies to ameliorate unfair inequality in its class hierarchy. Therefore, as desegregation proved infeasible and ineffectual in the 1980s, the search for an alternative remedy also intensified, one that was less disruptive of the basic pattern of class privilege in American public education, preferably one that ultimately reinforced that pattern. That

remedy was school choice.

Inspired by the writings of neo-liberal economists such as Milton Friedman

(1962), school choice is essentially about establishing a free market system in public

education by giving parents the right to choose the schools for their children, as opposed

to assignments to regular neighborhood schools on the basis of localist catchment zones

or assignments to racially integrated schools due to court-ordered busing. “Parents could

express their views about the schools,” Friedman (1962) argued, “directly by

withdrawing their children from one school and sending them to another” (p. 91). School

choice in the postwar urban educational context has incorporated broadly three practices:

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magnet schools, charter schools, and private school vouchers. Magnet schools were the

opening wedge of school choice in many urban school districts and therefore gained

prominence in the 1980s; charters and vouchers, on the other hand, became more

frequent in the 1990s and are discussed in the next subsection.31 Magnets are an

organizational form designed to foster voluntary desegregation. They are “high quality” public schools (with better funds, facilities, and teachers) offering curriculums with

special themes (for example, arts, science, or engineering) in order to attract willing black

and white families and their children across several neighborhoods in urban districts, and

rarely, even across districts. They usually offer a limited number of seats in order to spur

competition among interested parents, often incorporating a lottery system as well. They

also rely on talent exams, guided by their curricular themes, to select their students.

Magnet schools had been included in several desegregation plans in the 1970s and early

1980s as a supplementary component to be implemented alongside comprehensive busing

(Waldrip, Marks, and Estes 1993). The funding for magnets came primarily from the

federal government. In 1976, the Congress had amended the Emergency School Aid Act

(ESAA) of 1972—the key Act that provided financial assistance to desegregated urban

districts for their busing costs—to include funding for magnet schools. However, as a

result of the accelerated racial isolation in urban districts and the constitutional

prohibition of city-suburban busing plans, magnets quickly emerged as the most

reasonable method to achieve and maintain levels of racial balance mandated by the

courts. In Rossell’s (1990) words, magnet schools were the “carrot,” as opposed to

31 To briefly introduce them, charter schools are special public schools, often managed by private, non- profit foundations or by business corporations, under a charter with the state to offer high quality public education. Vouchers, on the other hand, are government tuition subsidies for poor parents to pull their children from public schools and enroll them in private schools.

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forced busing being the “stick.” In 1984, the Congress enacted the Magnet Schools

Assistance Program (MASP) to replace ESAA. The allocation was set at about $75

million for 1985, 1986, and 1987; it would reach $125 million in 1995 (Raffell 1997).

The relationship of magnet schools—or of any other school choice policy in the

urban context—to the basic pattern of class privilege in American public education should be understood with regard to the dynamics that structure their student recruitment.

Magnets typically attract the near-poor and upwardly mobile black students, who are relatively less deprived of non-school endowments than the average poor black student is, particularly in terms of cultural capital (Metz 1986; Archbald 1988, 1996; Smrekar and

Goldring 1999). A family’s disposition and actions to take the child out of the neighborhood school or out of a court-assigned integrated school, to compete for an available magnet seat, and to support the child at home to succeed in a high quality, and possibly more demanding, public school denotes considerable cultural capital, at least in urban standards. While the family may still lack the level of cultural capital that the majority of affluent suburban families possess, it is likely to be deprived of that capital to a lesser degree than the typical poor black family is. Magnet families tend to place more value on education, be better at inculcating habitus at home, and also be more willing and competent to get actively involved with the public schools. Since the degree of cultural capital available to poor black children in the postwar urban ecology is systemically determined by the available economic and social capital (see Figure 3.2. and Hypotheses

1 and 2), magnets also tend to attract students from families with higher levels of income in urban standards and from neighborhoods relatively more organized and nurturing than

172 the typical postwar black urban neighborhood is. In simple terms, magnets cream the most privileged among the underprivileged in urban areas.

Recent studies have revealed more explicit evidence on this creaming process.

For instance, Yu and Taylor (1997) found that, for magnet students in Cincinnati and

Nashville, most of whom were black, the level of parental income was twice as high as that of non-magnet students. In addition, 10 to 50 percent of the magnet students were eligible for subsidized lunch, as opposed to 51 to 80 percent of non-magnet students.

Also, while 63 to 76 percent of magnet students lived in double-parent families, 44 to 55 percent of non-magnet students had such families. In a unique study from Philadelphia,

Saporito (2003) relied on geo-spatial analysis and found that various neighborhood quality measures (such as segregation and crime) predicted enrollment in magnet schools—the better the student’s neighborhood, the more likely was his or her enrollment in a magnet school.

Thus, in an urban school district that relies on magnet schools for desegregation, those black students who are relatively less disadvantaged in terms of cultural capital, as well as the underlying economic and social capital, are likelier to be magnetized. The parents of the remaining poor black children would naturally tend to subject their children to inferior education and, from a conservative standpoint, they would have only themselves to blame for that. Consistent with the blame-shifting assumptions of the achievement paradigm, if the state—or, in more abstract terms, society—offers an opportunity, no matter how limited, to facilitate social mobility for the poor, and if the poor “choose” not to pursue it, then the poor are ultimately responsible for their plight

(Katz 1989)

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This view gained considerable currency in the 1980s as more magnet schools

were used for voluntary desegregation, while the ways in which non-school factors shaped the recruitment of students to magnet schools were completely ignored. A free market can be effective and fair only when all of the prospective consumers in it are equally efficacious and capable of influencing the supply-demand relationship. This is rarely the case in urban school choice markets. For an urban parent, failing to or refraining from vigorously pursuing a magnet seat is not necessarily a sign of meticulous choice-making behavior, but often indicates the sharply uneven distribution of cultural capital and other endowments in the class hierarchy. Therefore, the typical urban school choice market is an inherently and permanently failing market. This is why magnet schools and other choice initiatives in a deprived urban district tend to grow only to the extent to which they cream the relatively less disadvantaged black students, and rarely penetrate the rest of their intended markets (Henig 1994).

White urban families have typically been less attracted to magnet schools for a

variety for reasons. First, in a district that cuts back on busing in favor of magnet

schools, the neighborhood schools in white neighborhoods are likely to eventually

reacquire their relatively superior status. Consequently, it is less of a concern for most

white parents to pursue quality schooling by means of school choice (Metz 1986;

Archbald 1996). The relatively better sub-ecology for urban whites enables not only

better non-schools conditions, but by virtue of these conditions, better neighborhood schools, particularly once the district abandons forced busing. Finally, the typical magnet

school is required to operate with a specific racial quota that reflects the demographic

composition of its entire district. For instance, in a system where 80 percent of the

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students are black and only 20 percent are white, any given magnet school must

approximate the 80-20 racial proportion in allocating its seats. While this does not curb

the chances of a white student vis-à-vis other white students to get in a magnet school,

magnets do end up becoming heavily black schools, which at least some white parents

consider harmful for their children (Eaton and Crutcher 1996). In any case, two

hypotheses are plausible in regards to the recruitment patterns of magnet schools in the

1980s and beyond:

Hypothesis 5.—Black children and their families have been likelier than white ones to utilize magnet schools.

And,

Hypothesis 6.—Children’s access to magnet schools has been positively associated with a. higher economic capital available through the family, b. higher social capital available through the family, and most importantly, c. higher cultural capital available through the family.

Given the role of favorable non-school factors in shaping magnet recruitment and the inherently high quality features of magnet schools in contrast to regular public schools, most magnet students have been academically more successful than their counterparts have been in regular schools. While the difference is not drastic, it is considerable. In one of the most extensive evaluations of magnet schools, Blank et al.

(1983) had found that magnet students scored up to twice as high on standardized tests as students in other schools did. Blank (1990) also conducted a meta-analysis of several magnet studies involving 33 urban districts and determined that test scores in magnets were notably higher than scores in non-magnets. Similar findings on test scores were reported more recently by Yu and Taylor (1997) and Smrekar and Goldring (1999).

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Graduation rates have been found to be higher among magnet students in urban districts as well (Yu and Taylor 1997).

The superior academic outcomes in magnet schools have been consistent with the calls for excellence within the achievement paradigm. In a January 1988 speech to students at a Prince George’s County’s high schools, President Reagan personally praised the success of magnet schools, saying that “Magnet schools are one of the things Prince

George’s County is most noted for, one of the great success stories of the educational reform movement” (quoted in Eaton and Crutcher 1996, p. 265). But, such views have ignored the role that cultural capital has played in magnet success. Due to the inherent creaming process in recruitment, most magnet parents not only possess more cultural capital, as well as the underlying economic and social capital, than the typical poor black family does, but they are also likely to use their cultural capital to buffer the effects of potential material and neighborhood impediments on their children, or at least aggravate those effects to a lesser degree. In Rothstein’s (2004) words, “Parents who go to the effort to apply to a particular school are more likely to provide … support at home and to monitor children’s school efforts” (p. 72, italics are added). As a result, magnet schools not only get better off students in the urban school choice market, but, precisely because of that reason, they are likely to find it much easier than regular schools do to counteract non-school problems and help their students succeed. Simply put, when the non-school obstacles to overcome in the effort to facilitate equal start are smaller, the schools involved are unsurprisingly more effective in functioning as great equalizers. Although most magnet parents are likely to lack the levels of cultural capital available in affluent suburban families, the promising academic outcomes in magnet schools ultimately reflect

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what integrated and high quality public education can accomplish when the lack of

cultural capital is not as severe as it has become for the majority of poor black children in

the postwar era—when, that is, the family structure of the students does not work against

effective schooling, at least not as severely as it does for students in non-magnet schools.

Thus,

Hypothesis 7.—The relationship between the lack of cultural capital available to the child and the effectiveness of the schools in helping students succeed has been either a. positive for magnet students, or b. negative but less pronounced for magnet students than it has been for regular public school students.

Magnet schools have reinforced the basic pattern of class privilege in American

public education not only by means of creaming the less deprived and allowing the truly

disadvantaged to be blamed for their own plight, but at the same time by fostering the

legitimacy of the segregated neighborhood school. They have done this in two ways.

First, magnets have made it appear, at least to some, as though the problem of segregated

schooling in urban areas has been resolved. Since magnet enrollment is voluntary, the

associated discourse is prone to the misassumption that non-magnet students and their

families genuinely prefer segregated and inferior schooling. “Those who want high quality integrated education can get it if they want it badly enough!” Such assumptions have contributed to the uncontestedness of segregated neighborhood schools. Both magnet proponents (e.g., Waldrip, Marks, and Estes 1993; Rossell 1990) and opponents

(e.g., Kozol 1991) have typically viewed magnet schools as an alternative organizational

form that competes with the neighborhood schools for students and resources. While

partially true, at a deeper level, magnets have helped the concept of the neighborhood

school survive by perpetuating its taken-for-grantedness. The more the number of

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magnet schools there are in urban districts and the more the prevailing educational

discourse contains blame-shifting assumptions, the less prone are the separate and unequal neighborhood schools to being questioned and openly challenged. Magnets, or any other school choice policy for that matter, could not possibly threaten the viability neighborhood schools because, as mentioned earlier, the urban school choice market cannot grow beyond the number of potentially “creamable” families. Therefore, the majority of poor black students have remained in neighborhood schools.

Second, magnet schools are inherently cooptative. Since the creaming process

attracts parents who have a proclivity for involvement in the public education, magnet

schools concentrate urban families who are potential agents of political activism and

change—citizens who can provide the grassroots support for SMOs such as the NAACP

to express the collective interests of the black poor and contest the legitimacy of the

neighborhood school, 1960s style. Magnet schools have simply enabled politically

efficacious black parents to exercise the “exit” option in Hirschman’s (1970) terms, and

have therefore undermined the chances, no matter how slim, for these parents to exercise

a combination of “voice” and “loyalty” in order to improve the education of poor black

children as whole. This has had a considerable role in draining the civic capital in the

postwar urban ecology (Henig 1994; Orr 1999). The more the upwardly mobile poor

blacks are magnetized the less are the chances for separate and unequal neighborhood

schools to be questioned and openly contested.

Viewed in the context of class dynamics affecting unfair educational inequality,

factors that reduce the likelihood of efforts to question the legitimacy of the

neighborhood school have been critical in the rise of full-fledged latent conflict. School

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choice is one such factor. After all, questioning the legitimacy of the neighborhood

school was pivotal in the rise of manifest conflict in the metropolitan areas of the North

and the West in the late 1960s and 1970s

Magnet schools are a prime example of Reagan administration’s approach to welfare policy. They constitute minimal assistance to the disadvantaged, rather than

comprehensive assistance, which would include measures such as forced busing and the

War on Poverty. As such, the spread of magnets in the 1980s converged with another

pattern at the time that contributed to the uncontestedness of neighborhood schools,

namely the rise of African-American self-help in education. Given the demise of school

desegregation and the increasing racial isolation and poverty in ghetto areas, poor black

communities increasingly aspired to the notion of self-help, which simply called on black

families and neighborhoods to take educational matters into their own hands instead of

waiting to be “rescued” by the government (Sitkoff 2001). The intended goal in this

regard has since been to improve the segregated neighborhood schools as much as

possible in terms of both tangible and intangible resources (Butchart 1988), to make, that

is, separate, at least equal. In Brooks’ (1990) words,

The badly needed educational resources could significantly contribute to upgrading the level of education in racially isolated [neighborhood] public schools. In addition, the intangible contribution could be as important as the tangible, for an infusion of outside attention from the African American “establishment” would help to provide students with what they need most: a clear, unified message that their school is important and that people care about them. (p. 132)

The self-help approach has been particularly prevalent in the black news media

and scholarship, which have also emphasized the “resourcefulness” and “uniqueness” of

African American culture and communities (e.g., Siddle-Walker 1996). In some ways,

179 such emphases have invoked the memory of the high levels of parental involvement in black urban schools in the prewar decades, when many of these schools benefited significantly from contributions and support of families and other community members.

However, while important and understandable, the self-help approach is also unrealistic when perceived as the primary means to remedy unfair educational inequality, because in the postwar decades, poor blacks have rarely had the collective capacity to create neighborhood schools on par with predominantly white affluent schools; if anything, their capacity to do so has declined due to the increased lack of cultural capital and the underlying lack of economic and social capital. The rising popularity of the self-help approach in the 1980s was ultimately brought about by the exercise of preventative power in the class hierarchy. When the dominant group restricts the opportunity for the subordinate one to demand remedies for unfairness, it is only reasonable for the subordinate group to try to improve inherently discriminatory practices as best it can.

According to Leslie Innis, a black sociologist who was herself a “desegregation pioneer” in the 1960s, feelings of dissatisfaction, alienation, and anger among many blacks in the

1980s generated a call for new policies to be considered. Among them were “schools that [were] racially separate but equal in all important aspects—buildings, facilities, books, and personnel” (quoted in Irons 2002, p. 344). Unfortunately, the principal effect of self-help in the urban context has been to implicitly legitimize separate and unequal education and inadvertently contribute to the taken-for-grantedness of the neighborhood schools—both black neighborhood schools and white neighborhood schools.

The final major element that reduced the likelihood of efforts to question the legitimacy of the neighborhood school in the 1980s, and thereby contributed to the rise of

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full-fledged latent conflict, was President Reagan’s conservative appointments to the

Supreme Court. As a result of Nixon’s judicial appointments, the Supreme Court, the

judicial corner of the federal diamond, had already severely restricted the top-down

opportunity for manifest conflict by its 1974 Milliken ruling, which prohibited city- suburban desegregation plans. Reagan bolstered the conservative makeup of the Court

by appointing three justices who shared his neo-liberal approach to social and economic

policy. The first one, Sandra Day O’Connor, was a moderate conservative, with

ambiguous leanings on the issue of civil rights. She was nominated in 1981 and was the

first female judge on the Supreme Court’s. In 1986, Reagan named his second nominee,

Antonin Scalia, who is still on the bench. Scalia is a “formalist” or “originalist” in legal terms, meaning that he favors interpreting the Constitution and federal statuses as they

would have been understood to mean when they were first adopted, with little regard to

the implications of contemporary circumstances (Staab 2006). Scalia has thus

consistently ruled in unison with the conservative wing of the Court, particularly on

issues of civil rights (Hensley 2006). Reagan’s third nominee, Anthony M. Kennedy, in

1988, was a conservative as well. He also is still a member of the Court, and is

characterized by many as a devoted “libertarian,” supporting laissez faire freedom as

opposed to regulation in the social, economic, and public spheres (Hensley 2006).

While these three nominations significantly reinforced Nixon’s original vision of

an inherently conservative Court, Reagan’s most important move in that regard was his

1986 nomination of William H. Rehnquist, who was explicitly anti-desegregationist, as

Chief Justice. With Rehnquist in the lead and the conservative majority among other

justices consolidated, the Court was reconfigured enough not just to narrow the scope of

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school desegregation and other racial reforms, but to actively roll back on the existing

civil rights accomplishments. Since the Supreme Court has traditionally been crucial for

racial reform in the second half of the 20th century, the strongly conservative orientation of the Court constituted a tremendous limitation on the top-down opportunity for

manifest conflict regarding unfair educational inequality. Most of the Rehnquist Court’s

rulings that dismantled school desegregation would come in the 1990s, but the Court

signaled its approach to desegregation in Riddick v. School Board of the City of Norfolk,

Virginia in 1986. Riddick allowed a school district, once declared unitary, to dismantle

its desegregation plan and return to local control. This meant that, even if the district had

successfully created integrated schools, it could go back to segregated neighborhood

schools as soon as federal court involvement ended.

3.5.2. The 1990s and beyond

There are three approaches to remedying unfair educational inequality in the

American class hierarchy, regardless of whether or not the inequality comprises a racial

element. From easiest to hardest, these are as follows: (1) educate poor children like affluent ones, (2) educate poor children not only like affluent ones, but also with them, and (3) in addition to educating poor children with affluent ones, improve their non- school lives, at least those aspects of it that significantly affect schooling. For blacks, the first approach was implausible because, although the Fourteenth Amendment of the U.S.

Constitution required it and the 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson ruling sanctioned it, the prevailing system of racial caste prevented it. Besides, segregated schools actively reinforced the traditional norms and values of the racial hierarchy. Brown v. Board of

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Education ruling in 1954 involved the second approach and declared that “separate facilities were inherently unequal.” Educating black children with white ones was a means to not only ensure equal schooling, but also break the norms of racial caste at an early age. When school desegregation efforts began to concentrate on the despair of poor black children, initially in the Northern ghettos but then also in similar areas of the West, remedial efforts involved the third approach—improve schooling by means of desegregation while broader economic and social policies under the Great Society plan alleviated non-school problems. However, class dynamics soon undermined progress.

By the mid-1970s the scope of desegregation had been significantly curbed and the War on Poverty largely abandoned. Thus, educational reform in urban areas had to rely on the second approach, though in a much reduced form since city-suburban desegregation was prohibited by Milliken.

While the process of limited desegregation was critical for improving the life chances of poor black children to the best extent possible, it also had an indispensable discursive function because it provided the NAACP with the ability to articulate the inherently unequal nature of segregated neighborhood schools when necessary. As discussed earlier, American public schools are ideally designed to balance the logics of public and private wellbeing. They are considered effective when they facilitate individual competition for private advantage, but do so equitably for all children, often paying special attention to the needs and problems of disadvantaged children who face adversities outside the school. Challenging the concept of the neighborhood school was a fundamental strategy by which civil rights SMOs and activists could unveil the extent of the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing in American public

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education. Segregated neighborhood schools served the private interests of

predominantly white affluent children, while hurting the interests of many poor black

children. As long as there remained an opportunity to contest the legitimacy of the

neighborhood school, the downside of the localist tradition could be exposed and

integrated schools could be advocated to enhance the schools’ effectiveness as great

equalizers in light of the logic of public wellbeing. If the link between class position and

schooling constitutes the Pandora’s Box in American public education, then the

neighborhood school is the lock on that box—question and challenge the neighborhood

school successfully, and the box opens. Thus, as the opportunity to openly contest the

legitimacy of the neighborhood school vanished, so did the chances for unveiling the

contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing. In other words, it became harder to talk about unfair inequality in the class hierarchy, with reference to

school-related problems, let anole non-school problems.

This, in turn, facilitated the return of separate and unequal schooling without

much overt struggle. Considering the egalitarian ideals of public education in the U.S., the failure to remedy unfair inequality through urban school desegregation should have been a stepping stone toward more challenging remedies, such as city-suburban desegregation as well as the modified and expanded versions of the War on Poverty in order to alleviate non-school problems. But, the schools were allowed to resegregate and, instead of going up, the nation went down in the three-level hierarchy of solutions to unfair inequality. The goal of educating poor black children with affluent ones was

discarded, racially separate education was re-legitimized, and the search for ways to

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make segregated neighborhood schools equal intensified, which has, of course, remained

an elusive goal. In Hochschild’s (1984) frank words,

A truly liberal society could—must—have desegregated schools and the equal opportunity they permit. But an apparently liberal, actually stratified society cannot pursue full desegregation without revealing its feet of clay (p. 156).

The 1990s were a period where latent conflict regarding inferior education of poor black children firmly solidified. Three separate Supreme Court rulings were pivotal in

this process. In a sense, school desegregation ended where it all began—in the judicial

corner of the federal diamond. The Court’s retrogressive rulings, along with a number of

new reform practices, fostered a discourse that ultimately cloaked the true nature of

inequality in urban school systems. This discourse currently remains salient.

Supreme Court’s dismantling of school desegregation

As a result of Thurgood Marshall’s retirement in 1991, the Supreme Court lost

one of the last committed voices of liberalism that permeated most of its rulings between

the mid-1950s and early 1980s. During his four-year tenure, President George H. W.

Bush, who was “haunted by the lives of the children of our inner cities” (quoted in

Sitkoff 1993, p. 218), had the opportunity to appoint two Supreme Court justices. One

was a moderate conservative, David H. Sauter, in 1990. The second one, in 1991, was

Clarence Thomas, Marshall’s replacement for the “black seat” on the Court. Thomas was

a staunch conservative, who had served in President Reagan’s Civil Rights Office and the

Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. The NAACP and Urban League

vehemently opposed Thomas’ nomination based on his criticisms of school desegregation

and affirmative action (Foskett 2004). Thomas considered most efforts for racial

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integration denigrating to blacks because these efforts promoted the view that black

institutions were inferior and that they needed white involvement in order to improve (see

Ogletree 2004, p. 183-199). Segregated black schools, Thomas believed, could be equal

to white schools without desegregation, and also become a source of pride and respect in deprived black communities in urban areas.

With the addition of Clarence Thomas, the Court was ready for its assault on school desegregation. President Bill Clinton’s appointment of two liberal judges, Ruth B.

Ginsburg in 1993 and Stephen G. Breyer in 1994, made little difference in the Court’s

approach to school desegregation. In three consecutive rulings, the Court reversed Brown and essentially returned to Plessy’s “separate but equal.” According to Orfield (1996b),

Plessy led to government-enforced segregation of schools and neighborhoods; Brown eventually led to efforts to offset those efforts. Efforts to seriously enforce Brown in the cities gave rise to a political reaction that eventually transformed the courts and brought a new birth to the “separate but equal” principles. (p. 40)

In its 1991 Board of Education of Oklahoma v. Dowell ruling, the Supreme Court

described integration not as a consistent, long term goal, but merely as a temporary and

formalistic punishment for historic violations. The assumption was that a few years of

desegregation, no matter how ineffective, could miraculously erase the vestiges of

generations of discrimination and deprivation—that is to say that historic violations had

diminishing effects with the passage of time. It was therefore constitutionally appropriate

for a district to resegregate its schools after a brief period of desegregation. “A school

district which has been released from an injunction imposing a desegregation plan,” the

Court argued,

no longer requires court authorization for the promulgation of policies and rules regulating matters such as assignment of students and the like, but it

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of course remains subject to the mandate of the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment” (Board of Education of Oklahoma v. Dowell, 498 U.S. 237, p. 16-7).

The ruling also released the districts in question from the requirement to demonstrate educational gains, whether during or after desegregation.

A year after Dowell, the Supreme Court issued its ruling in Freeman v. Pitts. This time the Court concluded that school districts could be partially released from their desegregation responsibilities even if integration had not been achieved in all the specific areas outlined in the 1968 Green v. County School Board of New Kent County ruling. In addition to prohibiting the use of freedom-of-choice plans to subvert desegregation policies, Green had provided specific guidelines for integrating facilities, staff, and faculty, as well as for restructuring extracurricular activities and transportation.

Subsequently, many courts had used the “Green factors” as a guide in developing desegregation plans. Pitts basically undid all of this and allowed resegregation without concern for ultimate consequences. The concept of unitary status, which had previously denoted “racial integration,” was redefined on the basis of the defendant district’s ability to demonstrate its commitment to desegregate, not on the basis of its actual success in achieving desegregation. Pitts involved a desegregation decree for the DeKalb County

School System (DCSS) outside of Atlanta. The Supreme Court noted the lower federal court’s assessment that DCSS’ dedication (rather than actual success) in providing high quality and integrated education to all its students was “impressive.” In actual fact, however, the schools in DCSS were chronically separate and unequal at the time (see

Orfield and Ashkinaze 1991). But, the Court decided that, DCSS had already “traveled the often long road to unitary status almost to its end,” and that

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With respect to those areas where compliance had not been achieved, … DCSS had [not] acted in bad faith or engaged in further acts of discrimination since the desegregation plan went into effect (Freeman v. Pitts, 503 U.S. 467, p. 14).

The third ruling, Missouri v. Jenkins, which concerned the segregation of schools

in the Kansas City, Missouri, School District (KCMSD), came in 1995. The Supreme

Court ruled that Milliken II equalization remedies should be limited in time and scope, and that school districts need not show any actual correction of the educational harms of segregation. Milliken II, from 1977, was essentially an addendum to the 1974 Milliken ruling that prohibited city-suburban desegregation. According to Milliken II, the State

had an obligation to pay for educational programs to repair the harm caused by

segregation in urban school districts found guilty of intentional discrimination.

Jenkins also defined rapid restoration of local control as the primary goal in

desegregation cases. Therefore, the Court not only permitted tangible inequalities (e.g.,

funds, facilities, supplies, etc.) to grow within districts that returned to segregated

neighborhood schools, but also re-framed desegregation as an effort that should proceed

towards, rather than against neighborhood schools. Basically, if the harm caused by

segregation was not alleviated in a certain period—which was the common outcome given

the geographic restrictions on desegregation as well as the worsening non-school

problems—then neither the State, nor the local district was under any legal obligation to

develop and implement remedial strategies. The Court concluded that

The District Court must bear in mind that its end purpose is not only to remedy the violation to the extent practicable, but also to restore state and local authorities to the control of a school system that is operating in compliance with the Constitution (Missouri v. Jenkins, 515 U.S. 70, p. 21, italics are added).

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The legal path to neighborhood schools was open. And, the structure of the journey back to legalized segregation resembled the dynamics that ended the

Reconstruction a century earlier. In that episode, racial reforms had led to an intense backlash, followed by a gradual drift back to previous patterns of inequality, and eventually to the Plessy ruling. At the time, the retreat from fairness was justified by theories about the importance of localism and state rights, about the need for limits on the power of the courts, and about the inherent racial attitudes and beliefs that the law could not alter (Orfield 1996b).

Together, Dowell, Pitts, and Jenkins allowed the majority of urban school districts that had been under court supervision for racial desegregation to formally return the concept of the neighborhood school.32 Obviously, these three rulings did not spoil an egalitarian policy that had accomplished its stated goals to begin with, since class dynamics had already undermined urban school desegregation to a significant extent in the 1970s and 1980s. Instead, the rulings in the 1990s denoted the completion of the process of restricting the political opportunity for manifest conflict. In a society, where the majority of the affluent have resisted and/or remained indifferent to school desegregation, where the President, the Congress and the Senate have not only ceased their support for desegregation, but directly attacked it in recent decades, and where the highest court in the land has legalized segregated schooling, committed SMOs such as the

NAACP could do very little, if anything, to properly address unfair educational inequality and demand meaningful remedies. As Orfield (1996a) notes, “The path toward Brown

32 The rulings also sparked resegregation in the South, which had remained successfully integrated since the late 1960s. As shown in Figure 2.1, while the percentage of black students in majority-white schools in the South peaked at 45 percent in 1990, it gradually declined to around 30 percent by 2002. See Orfield (2001) and Boeger and Orfield (2005) on Southern resegregation.

189 and the movement away from it reflect the larger social and political contexts in which the Supreme Court makes its decisions” (p. 5). Likewise, Irons (2002) maintains that the legalization of segregated schooling “cannot be entirely blamed on the Supreme Court,” because, over time,

the Court quite clearly yielded to political pressure, and reflected in its decisions the increasingly conservative mood of the public, which has endorsed school integration in numerous public opinion polls but has balked at concrete plans to implement that policy in their own cities and neighborhoods (p. 338-9).

Equally important are the contributions of Dowell, Pitts, and Jenkins to the changes in the rhetoric concerning educational inequality. These three rulings have had an important role in expanding the scope of the conservative biases in educational discourse that had begun to emerge in the 1980s. In particular, the uncontestedness of the neighborhood school was reinforced by means of several erroneous assumptions.

Orfield (1996b) has identified five such assumptions in an insightful analysis.

The first assumption is that segregated neighborhood schools would improve education. Instead of advocating more comprehensive and radical solutions to unfair educational inequality, the leaders, activists, and policymakers who have led the effort to end busing in urban districts have often maintained that assignment to neighborhood schools would automatically result in higher student achievement and success of poor black children. The argument has been that students would be close to home so that their parents could get involved with the schools easier, and that the district would implement new reforms to enhance the quality of these schools. Naturally, the implications of non- school problems and the inevitable variation in school quality within the localist tradition have remained unspoken. For example, in Dayton, OH, where the process of ending

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court-ordered busing began in the late 1990s, the city’s Democratic Mayor, Rhine L.

McLin argued, upon her election in 2001, that “It will mean everything for our city to

have our children go to neighborhood schools. It’s a turning point for our city [and our

education system]” (quoted in Elliot 2002, p. 1). The Dayton school board promised a

master plan to improve the quality of education in all of its schools to a level that was

even beyond what had been required in the original desegregation order from the 1970s.

One of the attorneys representing the defendants in Dayton’s desegregation case

suggested that, once the new improvement plan was put into practice, “the schools [ought

to be] held accountable by citizens of the community through the political process,”

(quoted in Elliot 2002, p. 1). He completely ignored the extent to which poor black areas of Dayton potentially lacked the cultural capital necessary for parental and community involvement in the schools.

A few years earlier, Minneapolis had developed a similar plan to upgrade the quality and outcome of education in its neighborhood schools, with the fundamental aim of ending court supervision of student assignments and other desegregation practices.

The plan was titled, “Eliminating the Gap: Assuring that All Students Learn,” and neighborhood schools were referred to as “community schools,” with the hope that the majority of parents and other residents would get actively involved in the schools. Had the key assumption underlying this plan and many others like it across the nation’s urban school districts been tenable—that is, if education of poor black children could be improved by means of segregated neighborhood schools—there would be no achievement gap today.

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The second assumption that Dowell, Pitts, and Jenkins have helped spread is

intrinsically related to the first: “separate is equal, perhaps even better.” A century earlier, Plessy had claimed that the segregation was “harmless.” By contrast, in the new discourse, segregation has somehow come to be considered a type of school reform, something progressive and beneficial. When black leaders criticized President Woodrow

Wilson’s segregation policy, the President told them that “segregation is not humiliating but a benefit, and ought to be so regarded by you gentlemen” (quoted in Friedman 1970, p. 164). In the 1980s, President Reagan’s Attorney General for Civil Rights, William B.

Reynolds said, “Black students would be better off once neighborhood schools are restored” (quoted in Orfield 1996b, p. 37). In 1995, Supreme Court Justice, Clarence

Thomas argued that the idea that segregation harms black children’s mental and educational development “rests on the assumption of black inferiority.” “Black

[neighborhood] schools,” he added, “can function as the center and symbol of black communities, and provide examples of independent black leadership, success, and achievement” (quoted in Orfield 1996b, p. 38).

Several local leaders in urban school districts, particularly black leaders, have fashioned their political rhetoric in the 1990s in ways that resonated with Thomas’ views.

As a matter of fact, advocating progress by means of racially separate schools has became a common means to garner support for black leaders seeking key posts in local school administration or city government. Those who have continued to insist on integration have commonly been viewed as “irrelevant or out of fashion” (Orfield 1996b, p. 46). An increasing number of black mayors and superintendents have expanded the self-help approach that had gained popularity in the 1980s and viewed “separate but

192 equal” community-based development as an affirmative goal. They have explicitly denounced the goals of Brown, insisting that they can make a Plessy-like plan work more effectively (Orfield and Ashkinaze 1991).33

In this regard, school desegregation has also been ridiculed as reflecting a belief that there is something magic about sitting next to whites. “We don’t believe anymore,” said a black school board member from Louisville, Kentucky in 1991, “that sitting next to a white kid is going to make my child any more academically astute” (quoted in Adams

1991, p. B1). Such biases distort the original ideals of school desegregation inherent to

Brown, namely to ensure equal education for black children and break the norms of the traditional racial hierarchy (which have always been embedded in the separation of races). The distortion of the goals of desegregation in the discourse of the 1990s has created such a transformation in recent years that some local leaders have been publicly suggesting that desegregation is a recipe for black failure. For instance, one expert in

California argued in 2005 that “the use of race just reinforces the academic gap and causes [black] kids to perform at the stereotyped level, which is, 'You can't do this!'"

(quoted in Landsberg 2006, p. 10).

The third important assumption that gained salience in the 1990s regarding resegregation was that the legal return to neighborhood schools would result in the return of affluent whites to urban school districts. In 1993, the Superintendent of Cleveland

Municipal School District (CMSD), Sammie C. Parrish, argued that ending forced busing in the district, expanding magnet schools, and implementing a variety of other reform

33 Orfield (1996b) notes that this pattern is highly reminiscent of what happened with various notable black spokesmen at the end of the Reconstruction. For instance, Booker T. Washington, who was regarded by many whites as a “responsible” leader, had renounced the objectives of Reconstruction, arguing that the best policy for blacks was to accepting the basic racial structure of society and rely on the capacity of their own community to resolve its own problems.

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policies to “improve the quality of education in all the schools is likely to attract affluent

families in the Greater Cleveland area back to the CMSD” (quoted in Theiss 1993, p.

B2). Similar claims were made in several other urban districts. However, nothing has been further from the truth. Neither resegregation, nor school choice, or any other reform initiative has been able to stimulate suburbanites, white or black, to return to urban school systems (Orfield 2002). Cleveland, for example, was allowed to gradually re-establish its neighborhood school policy between 1993 and 1998, and it remains to be one of the most racially isolated school districts in the nation. In 2004 and 2006, the City of Cleveland was officially ranked by the U.S. Census Bureau as the poorest city in the nation. In addition to its inherent implausibility, the “whites will return” thesis has two more flaws.

First, it ignores the fact that desegregation was not the ultimate cause of predominantly white affluent flight, which had been going on since at least the mid-1950s. Attempts at racial mixing in urban schools had simply accelerated the flight, which included both affluent whites and affluent blacks. The second and perhaps more important problem is that, in a system of segregated neighborhood schools, the return of whites would have very little, if any, meaningful impact on the education of poor black students.

Another assumption that the Supreme Court’s retrogressive rulings in the 1990s has helped spread is that segregated neighborhood schools would ensure the protection of the rights of minority students. Local school boards trying to release their schools from court supervision have frequently presented their neighborhood school policy as a way to ensure equity in funds, facilities, teacher quality, supplies, curricula, and other tangible features of the schools. This claim not only downplays the relevance of intangible features, such as student composition and the distribution of non-school advantages and

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disadvantages across the schools, but also involves a goal that is highly unlikely to

accomplish in its own right, since variation in school quality is inherent to the localist

tradition in American public education. Although an open secret, the politics of

information has rarely allowed scholars to expose the extent of school inequalities within

urban districts. Recently, though, Condron and Roscingo (2003) have managed to compile a uniquely detailed data set to illustrate how separate but supposedly equal

neighborhood schools in Columbus, OH are in fact starkly unequal in terms of their

finances and other important resources. Their findings are widely generalizable to the

majority of deprived urban districts that have resegregated in the 1990s.

The fifth and the final assumption whose popularity has benefited considerably

from the Dowell, Pitts, and Jenkins rulings is that the return to neighborhood schools is a

means to cut district costs and reallocate valuable resources to efforts to improve the

quality of education. For instance, a policy expert in 1993 asserted that Milwaukee’s

desegregation policy was ”wasteful, inefficient, and unaccountable and should be

abolished in two years so that [funds] can be reallocated to far more pressing educational

needs” (quoted in Schmidt 1992, p. 1). Aside from a few exceptions, such assertions are

not merely erroneous, but utterly misleading, because court-ordered desegregation has

typically been funded by the federal and state governments, and desegregation funds could typically be used only for desegregation and associated practices; they therefore

could not be reallocated to any other reform. Although continued state support for

educational improvement was a typical clause in the settlements that released many

districts from court-supervision in the 1990s, the majority of these districts were

eventually deprived of significant resources because Jenkins limited the duration and

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scope of state support. This an important reason, although not the only reason, why debates around unequal school funding at the state level have become more pronounced from the mid-1990s and on.

In the new educational discourse, the concept of the neighborhood school has been accepted as a “fact of nature” (Orfield and Ashkinaze 1991, p. 109), or what

Durkheim had referred to as a “social fact,” a concept so deeply taken for granted that its appropriateness and truth value are never questioned, at least not publicly. The restriction of political opportunity has rendered virtually uncontested an inherently discriminatory organizational form that was once fiercely contested. Naturally, local leaders, politicians, and activists—both black and white—who promote the return to neighborhood schools never say they are instituting segregation. As a matter of fact, the word segregation rarely comes up. Instead,

they talk about moving beyond “physical desegregation” or “racial balancing” or “numerical integration” as if there were some new kind of desegregation in which schools were not really desegregated. What these leaders are actually seeking is a way to pursue “separate but equal” without admitting it in a brave new Orwellian era of segregated “desegregation.” (Orfield 1996b, p. 50)

The discourse of contemporary reforms in urban public education

In the absence of active dissent, not only has the concept of the neighborhood

school regained its basic legitimacy, but the entire sociology of knowledge in American

public education has changed in ways to accommodate that legitimacy. A variety of

inconsequential reform practices have become dominant, fostering the uncontestedness of

segregated neighborhood schools and regularly distracting attention away from non-

school problems. In other words, anything but the principal issues pertaining to

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educational problems in the ghettos have become subject critical thinking and debate.

Consistent with the premises of the achievement paradigm that had emerged in the early

1980s, public education in the discourse of the 1990s and beyond has largely been

viewed in light of the logic of private wellbeing—the accumulation of individual

advantage. Educational failure has commonly been construed as a function of the lack of

innate talent and motivation on the part of urban students and parents. The black poor

have been blamed, at times explicitly, for their own plight, while the systemic causes and

consequences of unfairness have remained obscured. Administrative problems (such as bureaucratic inefficiency) in the districts and the schools have also been exaggerated as

key culprits. And, specific strategies have been pursued to upgrade the tangible features

of the schools, such as funds, teacher quality, and academic performance standards.

While often unsuccessful, these efforts have been considerably effective in fostering the

untenable belief that segregated schooling could improve the life chances of poor black

children, perhaps even to a larger extent than desegregated schools could. Finally, the

adversarial conception of the relationship between the poor and the affluent, between the

predominantly black urbanites and predominantly white suburbanites has largely

disappeared from the discussions.

These discursive patterns have been associated with three broad categories of

contemporary reform that have dominated the relevant conversation space in the 1990s

and continue to be prevalent today (Kantor and Brenzel 1991; Rury and Mirel 1997;

Rothstein 2004):

• School choice, which, as described in the previous subsection, is about establishing a free market system in public education in order to give parents the right to choose the schools for their children irrespective of traditional catchment zones or court interference. Choice policies

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gained traction in the 1980s largely in the form of magnet schools. Charter schools and private school vouchers spread across the nation in the 1990s as one the most promising means to improve education in urban school systems.

• Governance reform in district-level and school-level bureaucracies. District-level efforts aim at either centralizing or decentralizing district governance. School-level efforts, on the other hand, typically focus decentralizing administrative structures by means of flexible school designs, as well as participative arrangements that grant more autonomy to teachers, staff, principals, parents, and community groups in the functioning of schools.

• Equity in school resources, quality of instruction, and rigorous evaluation, which involve better funding, more qualified teachers (those with high credentials and trained in new pedagogies and teaching methods), as well as strict, high-level standards for student and school performance.

Charter schools are special public schools largely exempt from state and local rules and regulations. They are similar to private schools in that they are typically governed by a group or organization (such as a corporation or foundation) under a contract or “charter” with the state to offer high quality, innovative programs for children whose parents wish to opt out of the regular public schools. Private school vouchers serve the same purpose. They are the state-funded tuition subsidies for public school parents who wish to enroll their children in private schools. Depending on the level of availability, the distribution of vouchers may be subject to lottery.

The basic epistemology of charters and vouchers is essentially the same as that of magnet schools: “Those who want better education for their children can get it if they want it badly enough!” An important difference from magnets, though, is that “better education” need not necessarily be racially integrated. While magnets continue to operate under strict racial quotas, the majority of charter and voucher initiatives involve

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no such requirement.34 Nevertheless, just as magnets do, charters and vouchers reinforce

the basic pattern of class privilege in American public education not only by creaming the

near-poor black families and their children while allowing the truly disadvantaged to be

blamed for their own plight, but also by fostering the legitimacy of the neighborhood

school.

For example, Schneider, Buckley, and Kucsova’s (2002) recent study has

revealed that nearly 42 percent of charter students in Washington, D.C. came from

double-parent families with steadily employed parent(s) who lived in stable

neighborhoods—a pattern that is consistent across the majority of urban school districts

in the U.S. (see Gill et al. 2001). Whitte and Thorn (1996) found that in Milwaukee’s

predominantly black and Hispanic voucher program, only 40 percent of students were

eligible for free or reduced-price lunch, as opposed to nearly 100 percent in regular

public schools. Also, most voucher students were from neighborhoods that were

relatively healthier by urban standards, and over 50 percent of them had double-parent

families, as opposed to 38 percent of the students in regular public schools. As in the

case of magnet schools, the structure of charter and voucher recruitment is heavily

influenced by non-school factors—they attract black families who are, in urban

standards, relatively better off in terms of cultural capital, as well as the underlying

economic and social capital. Thus, hypotheses five and six, which were posited earlier

with regard to magnets, apply just as well to charters and vouchers.

34 It is important to note, however, that the racial quota requirements for magnets have recently been challenged by white parents from Seattle and Louisville, Kentucky, who were denied access to magnets due to race-conscious assignments. The Supreme Court heard the relevant arguments for the first time in the fall of 2006: Parents Involved in Community Schools v. Seattle School District and Meredith v. Jefferson County Board of Education. No ruling has been made yet.

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School choice has become the ultimate means to convey the message that there is opportunity for the underprivileged to get ahead, and that this opportunity is a testimony to the efforts to maintain fairness in public education in particular and in the American class hierarchy in general. According to Chester Finn, an education advisor to President

Reagan,

the best argument for choice is to enable poor people to have the same rights and opportunities that rich people already have by virtue of being rich. I mean rich people exercise school choice. They move to where they want to buy a house, because of the schools, or they send their kid to a private school. It is poor people who typically get trapped in bad schools and can’t afford to do anything about it. (quoted in Mondale and Patton 2001, p. 193-4)

Such compassionate comments have been frequent among choice advocates, who leave out the role of non-school factors in student recruitment. In communicative patterns that reflect latent conflict, elements which are left out of the process of interpreting the social world are at times more effective in defining reality than the elements that are included (Habermas 1975). Giving unfairly deprived parents opportunity by means of a free market structure that inherently creams the near-poor simply bolsters the view that those parents who do not choose to pursue the opportunity do so out of a rational review of their preferences, or out of their intrinsic (i.e., cultural or biological) inferiority to think rationally. All the while, the bounds of rationality are shaped primarily by the distribution of cultural capital, as well as the underlying economic and social capital, in the class hierarchy. Ignoring this pattern in praising school choice constitutes the most insidious form of blame-shifting.

Unfortunately, in an era of restricted political opportunity to challenge unfair educational inequality, arguments and comments that expose the drawbacks of school

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choice in urban districts have been infrequent and ineffective in spurring the kind of

collective action characteristic of the 1960s and 1970s. Most notably, arguments against school choice have been in the defensive rather than offensive mode. For example,

Kweisi Mfume, the former president of NAACP, has recently argued that

vouchers and charter schools divert money and attention away from our most troubled schools. They tend to help only a select few and deepen the problems for the students and teachers left behind. We should devote our resources and our efforts to improve our public schools. (quoted in Naegele 2003, p. 2)

Despite its truth value, such an argument is incapable of pointing out neither the deeper aspects of unfairness, nor the radical remedies necessary to alleviate the situation— remedies like replacing the neighborhood schools with integrated ones and attacking non- school problems.35

In addition, charters and vouchers have received considerable support from black

parent organizations and other urban interest groups, such as the Black Alliance for

Educational Options (BAEO). In some urban districts, school choice programs have

come into being as a result of persistent demands from vocal parents, typically from

among the black community (Orr 1999). As one supporter of this movement, an urban

mother deeply committed to her children’s education, asserts,

35 As a matter of fact, most opponents of urban school choice have found it difficult to object to charters and vouchers by means of “unfairness” arguments, which had permeated the open struggle against unfair educational inequality in earlier decades. For instance, vouchers are often criticized not as a policy that reinforces the basic pattern of class privilege in American public education, but one that violates the separation of church and state. Most voucher recipients in urban districts enroll their children in parochial schools because the majority of private schools in urban areas tend to be church-affiliated. Thus, opponents have argued that voucher programs use public finances to fund religious education. While correct, this argument fails to highlight the hidden ways in which voucher programs perpetuate the unfair status quo. It therefore inadvertently contributes to a misplaced conversation. Such patterns ultimately help keep the interests of poor black children subverted in the in the new conservative discourse. In its 2002 Zelman v. Harris decision, the Supreme Court rejected the “separation of church and state” arguments against vouchers and upheld the constitutionality of Cleveland’s voucher program, which had started in 1996. This ruling has opened the way for more comprehensive voucher programs across the U.S.

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If the school system doesn’t live up to our standards, we should have the right to ‘save’ our children. Any child not educated to be the best he can is heartbreaking to most parents. Any child not educated to be the best that he can be is of less value to the community he lives in. … This is where the concept of ‘school choice’ becomes so important as a civil right. (quoted in Getchell 2001, p. 4)

It is only natural for a disadvantaged parent who nevertheless possesses a certain degree of cultural capital, to press for school choice when class dynamics have precluded other alternatives for improved education. Ironically, however, the educational outcomes of charters and vouchers have been dubious at best. Unlike magnet school students in urban districts, who typically perform better than those in regular public schools, the performance gains for charter and voucher students have been subject to fierce debate.

Therefore, the bearing of hypothesis seven, which was posited in regards to positive outcomes in magnet schools, is questionable when it comes to charter schools and private school vouchers.

For instance, in studying the Milwaukee voucher experiment, the first comprehensive program of its kind, Witte (2000) found no consistent difference in test scores between students using vouchers and students who have remained in public schools. Greene (1999), on the other hand, used a different comparison group and found significant improvement in the scores of voucher students. Rouse (1998) relied on a different set of analytical techniques and reported improvements in math but not in reading. Evaluations of several other voucher programs are characterized by similar inconsistencies (see Carnoy 2001 for a review).

Likewise, the performance of students in most charter schools has been at best slightly better than those in regular public schools (Gronberg and Jansen 2001;

Hanushek, Kain, and Rivkin 2002; Bifulco and Ladd 2006). Eberts and Hollenbeck

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(2001) found that students in Michigan charter schools actually had lower test scores than

their peers did in regular public schools. Sass (2006) found that, although levels of initial achievement in Florida charters were lower than levels in regular public schools, parity

came after about four years of consecutive charter enrollment. Solomon, Paark, and

Garcia (2001), however, determined that Arizona charter students experienced academic

losses after two years of consecutive enrollment.

The discrepancies concerning charter and voucher outcomes have not been

sufficient grounds for discrediting these new forms of school choice. Given the

conservative biases permeating the educational discourse that has become fully salient since the early 1990s, school choice has been accepted by many at face value. Due in

large part to the failure in considering deeper problems and radical solutions concerning public education in the ghettos, the mixed evidence on charter schools and private school vouchers has fueled inherently one-sided, “implement or not” debates, as well as debates on ways to implement charters and vouchers better. There is very little, if any, discussion on the prospects of more comprehensive reform. In the mean time, just as in the case of magnet schools, charters and vouchers have continued to cream and co-opt the upwardly mobile and politically efficacious parents—those who, rather than “exit” the public education system, could have exercised “voice” and “loyalty,” had there been sufficient political opportunity for influential SMOs such as the NAAP to express the collective interests of poor black children. In the new conservative milieu, public education is construed to serve private interests more than public interests. Therefore, school choice

in the urban context undermines the very publicness of public education.

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Similar to considerations of dynamics surrounding magnet schools in the 1980s, the debates on charter schools and private school vouchers have addressed the extent to which these new options compete with the neighborhood schools for students and resources. Proponents of choice view the competition favorably, claiming that competition would invigorate the regular public schools to improve themselves and fight back for resourceful parents and talented students. However, opponents point out, correctly, that competition would do more harm than good because the regular neighborhood schools typically lack the inherent capacity to fight back. Some even fear that the neighborhood schools may eventually become unable to operate at all, as more families chose to exit the public education system. In truth, while charters and vouchers do deplete important resources for neighborhood schools, their fundamental relationship to neighborhood schools is no different than that of magnets to neighborhood schools— they do not pose a threat at all. Instead, they foster the legitimacy or the uncontestedness of the neighborhood school concept. First of all, the controversies regarding school choice in the last decade and half have ensured that public and policy discussions remain considerably blind to the ill effects of segregated neighborhood schools as well as to the extent of non-school problems in the postwar urban ecology. In addition, since the urban school choice market is inherently failing (because the potential consumers are not equally efficacious) and therefore cannot grow beyond the number of potentially

“creamable” families, the majority of poor black students are destined to remain in segregated neighborhood schools, which fail to improve life chances.

The second category of contemporary reform—namely, governance reform in district-level and school-level administrative hierarchies—has been closely related to

204 school choice. This is because, unlike in the 1980s, the proponents of choice in the 1990s have emphasized the power of the free market not only to help the poor, but also to resolve the “bureaucratic burden,” in public education. Their claim has amplified the age-old debate among experts, policymakers, and educators regarding the pros and cons of bureaucracy (for an historical account this debate, see Katz 1987). In Politics,

Markets, and American Schools, which is considered the seminal statement in support of school choice, Chubb and Moe (1990) have argued that the real cause of problems in urban education is

the public education system as a whole. Its institutions of democratic control are inherently destructive of school autonomy and conducive to bureaucracy. This happens because of the way all the major participants—politicians, interest groups, bureaucrats—are motivated and empowered by their institutional setting to play the game of structural politics. Whatever the technological and intellectual arguments against bureaucracy may be, and however frustrated people from all walks of life may be with the unworkable constraints under which schools are forced to operate, virtually all are driven to pursue their own goals by adding to the bureaucracy problem. (p. 47, italics are added)

From this viewpoint, the free market promises to reduce bureaucratic inefficiency and wastefulness in educational governance, thereby improving school quality and innovation. The broader ideal has been to reform not only urban education, but all of public education in America, to make its governance, structure, and performance similar to those of private education (Coleman, Hoffer, and Kilgore 1982; Coleman and Hoffer

1987). There indeed are a lot to blame on the “educrats,” to use McCluskey’s (2006) clever phrase. And, urban school systems serving large numbers of poor black children are sure to benefit from reforms that create better, more effective bureaucracies— although the issue of whether bureaucratic reform requires more bureaucracy or less is likely to vary by the particulars of the districts.

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However, bureaucracy’s inherent drawbacks have not been the central problem in

ghetto schooling, the concept of the neighborhood school and severe non-school

problems have. Evading these issues and focusing solely on bureaucracy ultimately

amounts to putting an “actorless force” on the spot. Since “bureaucracy” as a concept

does not entail human agency, one cannot get mad at bureaucracy in a way that facilitates meaningful and sustained manifest conflict around unfair inequality (Alinsky 1972;

Sennett 1980). One cannot take “bureaucracy” to court and mobilize collective action to demand remedies for deeper problems that limit the life chances of poor black children.

One cannot reasonably imagine getting rid of bureaucracy either, since bureaucracy is inherent to the practice of management (Weber 1949), and is thus inevitable in district and school administration. When criticisms concentrate entirely on the bureaucracy problem, no concrete actor associated with the interests of the dominant group in race relations is held responsible for the prevailing unfairness; the agency of the predominantly white affluent in perpetuating the collective suffering of poor black children is obscured.

In a sense, blaming the bureaucracy problem has been no different than blaming

“residential segregation” or “general patterns of poverty” for educational inequality, factors that are typically considered by the affluent to have resulted from natural preferences, evolutionary imperatives, or bad luck. When such factors are put forth to explain unfair inequality, no matter how implicitly, the ultimate causes of undue hardship are masked. This was an approach that many urban school boards had taken in the 1960s and 1970s—such as the Denver School District did in Keyes (see chapter 2)—to absolve themselves of the responsibility for segregated education and for implementing proposed

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remedies. Yet, contemporary experts and leaders have been manifesting exactly the same

pattern of behavior. For instance, in proposing governance reforms to improve urban

education, one expert has asserted that,

We must open our minds and do something other than consistently create more layers of government. We must, in fact, take power away from government by letting parents choose their children's schools and bypass the special interests. Only then will we hobble the hobgoblins [the narrow minded bureaucrats] forever. (McCluskey 2006)

While choice advocates’ calls for decentralized governance structures effectively

sidesteps more fundamental issues in urban education, the same can be accomplished by

means of calling for more centralized structures too. Big city mayors have been

especially vocal in this regard. Since the early 1990s, mayors in deprived urban districts, such as New York, Chicago, Cleveland, Boston, and Los Angeles, have been

emphasizing the need for top-down mayoral control of the schools, where board

members, superintendents, and other key officials would be appointed rather than elected.

A number of these mayors have assumed control of their schools, with the hope that they can streamline relevant bureaucratic structures and impart higher levels of efficiency and

effectiveness, ultimately resulting in improved education. For instance, in 2002, New

York Mayor Michael Bloomberg declared that

this reform of school governance will fundamentally change the way in which we manage the education of our children. We will no longer have to tolerate an incapable bureaucracy which does not respond to the needs of students. (quoted in National School Boards Association News 2002)

Centralized governance structures may indeed resolve some of the “bureaucracy

problem” in urban schools districts. As Larry Cuban (2006), the renowned education

scholar, argues, “there is nothing illegal, unethical or inefficient about altering who

207 controls school districts.” “It is, however, misleading, if not dishonest, to advertise that mayoral control will directly help students improve their academic performance.”

Black mayors have been most keen on promoting mayoral takeover as the ultimate means to turn urban education around. Having found it increasingly difficult to address more fundamental problems and associated remedies within the new confines of class politics, many black mayors have played into the “racial politics” of metropolitan areas and blamed “incompetent bureaucrats,” “uncompromising unions,” “power hungry administrators,” and “self-interested board members,” for the suffering of poor black students. These mayors have been quick to suggest that tighter control (tighter “black control”) in district governance is the answer to the problems in education, an argument that has resonated well with the racial sentiment in the 1970s and 1980s that disparities in the ghettos would be resolved through the election of black leaders to urban posts.

Unsurprisingly, however, the takeover of the schools by black mayors have so far failed to make much of a difference in the degree of unfair educational inequality, because it could cure neither the inherent drawbacks of segregated neighborhood schools, nor the adverse effects of prevailing non-school problems. On the contrary, “governance” debates have ultimately contributed to the uncontestedness of the concept of the neighborhood school because they have constituted efforts to make separate schools equal, despite deeper problems that typically preclude such a pattern of equality.

Orfield and Ashkinaze (1991) point out another problem. They argue that centralized governance structures controlled by black mayors may actually have adverse effects because they contribute to the lack of public knowledge about the extent of suffering on the part of poor black children. “Black officials, like their white

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predecessors, tend to publish success, not problems,” and many people “now see it as

anti-black to call attention to failings in institutions headed by blacks” (p. 7). The

condition of urban education no longer matters to whites as it once did, and “the media

may be afraid of charges of racism by black administrators if they are too critical” (p. 7).

The bureaucracy problem has also captured the spotlight in controversies

regarding school-level administration. The common goal in this respect has been to reduce or, in some cases, totally dismantle school bureaucracy. Several strategies have been considered since the early 1990s: transformative and participative leadership by principals, involvement by teachers in administrative decision-making, flexible organizational structures that accommodate teamwork, improved order and discipline within the school, and extensive cooperation between the school and the home (for a more detailed review, see Kantor and Brenzel 1993; Rury and Mirel 1997). Most of these initiatives have their origins in the “effective schools” research, which has maintained that public schools designed in light of contemporary insights on organizational structure and management can improve the life chances of disadvantaged children in urban school districts (Comer 1988).36

A reform strategy that encompasses the full spectrum of techniques for undoing

bureaucracy in the schools, one that has gained significant currency since the early 1990s,

is “site-based management” or “school-based management” (SBM), which is broadly

36 The notion of effective schools has had two sources of inspiration. The first one is the study of industrial organizations. In particular, corporate ‘best practices’ that became popular in the 1980s such as total quality management, continuous improvement, horizontal or flat organizational structures, self-managing teams, employee participation in decision making and goal setting, decentralized information systems, excellence in customer service, and strategic planning have been heavily adopted by educational policy experts and consultants (Ogawa 1994). The second source of the inspiration for school-level administrative reforms is the contrast between public and private schools in terms of design characteristics. One of the most influential studies of this contrast was conducted by Coleman, Hoffer, and Kilgore (1982), who argued that the superior performance of private schools is in part due to their “lean”—that is, less bureaucratized and more participative—organizational design.

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defined as a way to radically increase the autonomy of actors involved in the day-to-day operation of individual schools. Advocates of this approach view SBM as an excellent antidote to bureaucracy. According to the superintendent of a large urban school district,

SBM is “critical for breaking the grip of bureaucracy on the schools.” He argues that

[SBM] is the most important educational reform of the past few decades. It enables principals and teachers, and, most importantly, the parents to influence the schools in a positive way. Our schools are more effective now and will continue to be that way as long as we remain committed to reform. I see greatness in every student. (quoted in Stern 2006, p. 1A)

According to Sirotnik and Clark (1988), who are staunch supporters of SBM, “the ultimate power to change is—and has always been—in the heads, hands, and hearts of the educators who work in the schools” (p. 661). Tom Peters (1987), a high profile management consultant, asserts that effective organizations require individuals to become

“emotional, vociferous, repetitive, public haters of bureaucracy” (p. 489).

Just as there is nothing wrong with advocating less bureaucracy at the district level, there is potential value in efforts to reform bureaucratic structure at the school level. In some respects, these efforts aim at making the schools organizationally more effective as great equalizers that can counteract non-school problems and facilitate student success. However, the difference that they have made remains negligible.

Despite assertions that “[SBM] should be explicitly considered a means to increased learner outcomes” (Arterbury and Hord 1991, p. 7), scholarly evaluations of two of the most widely publicized SBM initiatives—one in Dade County, Florida and the other in

Rochester, New York—has indicated that bureaucratic reforms in the schools had little or no impact on educational outcomes (Bradley 1989; Chira 1991). Numerous other studies

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have identified no direct link, positive or negative, between SBM and academic achievement or other outcomes such as attendance.

As in the case of most other reforms that gained popularity during the 1990s, the

positive consequences of administrative restructuring in urban public schools have

largely been nominal. This is hardly surprising because the quality and effectiveness of

any given public school in the U.S. is determined primarily by the class composition of

its location. Aside from a few exceptions, good teachers, effective principles, talented

and creative administrators, and, most importantly, involved parents that possess

considerable cultural capital are likely to gravitate as far away from troubled urban public

schools as possible. The extent to which urban public schools are de-bureaucratized is a

minor issue, given the severity of other, more pressing problems that perpetuate unfair

educational inequality. Yet, the rhetoric of administrative school reform has been so

persistent that evidence of non-progress is often treated as a sign of poor implementation

as opposed to inherent ineffectiveness.

Ultimately, what the rhetoric of administrative school reform in the urban context

has done is to reinforce the legitimacy of the neighborhood school and play down the

implications of non-school problems. First of all, notions such as SBM imply that

segregated neighborhood schools could to help students succeed if only they are “fixed”

or “augmented” by means of new approaches to administration. In other words, instead

of replacing neighborhood schools with integrated ones, efforts have focused on

improving them while retaining their basic property, namely their separate and unequal

status. Ironically, it was the conviction, based on sound evidence, that separate schools

could never be equal, regardless of how well managed they are, that had led the open

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struggle against segregated neighborhood schools for nearly three decades. In the new

conservative discourse, the interests of poor black children remain subverted because

administrative school reform is construed as a magic tool that could make non-school

problems nearly irrelevant to school effectiveness, as if bureaucratically “lean” schools

could be any better than other ones to compensate for the effects of ineffective parenting,

material poverty, and neighborhood disorganization in urban areas. This naiveté is

reflected in the words of a reform-minded Chicago schoolteacher who praises her local

“school council” (an SBM variety) as follows:

[Our council] promotes teamwork among school staff and gives voice to parents and teachers. That contributes to [the school’s] goal of being among the top achievers in attendance and making adequate yearly progress on standardized tests. (quoted in Mendell 2006, p. B1)

Despite these administrative reforms, the majority of public schools in Chicago are

among the worst performing ones in the nation, and the average Chicago student achieves

significantly below national averages on standardized tests.37

Fixing or augmenting segregated neighborhood schools, rather than replacing

them with integrated ones is the basic discursive theme in the third and the final category

of contemporary reform as well, which broadly includes efforts concerning funding equity, quality of instruction, and student evaluation in urban public education. One of the fiercest controversies within the conservative discourse of the 1990s and beyond has had to do with school funding. The majority of public schools in urban districts are severely under-funded, with per pupil spending in some of those districts approaching one-fourth of the spending in a typical affluent district (Kozol 1991, 2004; Lippman et al.

37 Local school councils in the Chicago public school system have long been publicized as a remarkable achievement. However, scholarly studies of student achievement found little change in the academic performance of Chicago students as a result of these councils (see Rury and Mirel 1997)

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1996; Anyon 1997; Gold 2007). This is a natural disparity in a system where local tax revenues comprise a large share of the funds for public education; chronically poor districts are destined to have chronically poor schools.38 Much of the struggle over funding inequity has been about channeling more state funds to urban districts because states typically allocate educational dollars to districts based on the income and wealth differences across districts. Those districts that pay more state tax tend to receive more funding in return.39 Achieving equity in the prevailing system would therefore mean diverting a certain portion of the funds that would normally go to better off districts to other districts based on size and need—a proposal that some have cynically referred to as a “Robin Hood” policy.

While more educational funding is a critical component of any initiative to improve the life chances of poor black students, both sides in the funding debate promote essentially conservative assumptions. Proponents have inadvertently reinforced “separate but equal” by demanding that segregated neighborhood schools be equalized in terms of tangible features. This is an understandable demand, since class dynamics have restricted the opportunity to openly challenge segregation itself and to demand more meaningful remedies. However, the proponents ignore not only intangible disparities, such as student composition, extent of parental involvement, and staff quality and commitment, but also the adverse effects of significant non-school problems. As Brown had declared half a century ago:

38 On average, individual districts rely on local tax revenues to pay about 44 percent of the total cost of public schooling; states pay nearly 48 percent; and the federal government covers the remaining eight percent, most of which goes to special education programs and school-aid for basic needs such as subsidized lunch programs (Robelen 2002). 39 The prevailing structure of funding for public schools in the U.S. was determined largely by the Supreme Court’s 1973 ruling on the San Antonio v. Rodriguez case where the Court left it to the states to deal with overall funding issues and inter-district inequity.

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Does segregation of children in public schools solely on the basis of race, even though the physical facilities and other “tangible” factors may be equal, deprive the children of the minority group of equal educational opportunities? We believe that it does. … To separate them from others of similar age and qualification solely on the basis of their race generates a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely to ever be undone. (quoted in Friedman 2004, p. 329-30, italics are added)

No matter how well funded, segregated neighborhood schools are likely to fail in helping the majority of poor black students succeed at levels similar to their predominantly white affluent counterparts. Evidence of the academic effects of funding has been mixed at best.40 Still, most advocates of equal funding have argued that parity in tangible terms could help neighborhood schools function as great equalizers that could counteract non-school problems and facilitate equal start. “Reducing the inequalities that students bring to the classroom … requires the active intervention of the school,” a reformer has suggested, adding that “when the school lacks adequate funds, its ability to intervene is compromised” (Wenglinsky 1998, p. 279).

The weaknesses in such arguments are quickly taken advantage of by opponents of equal funding. Since increased funds have not always made the degree of difference in the success of poor black students that many proponents have promised, opponents readily make “money’ won’t buy academic success” arguments. “Everyone who cares to know has known for years,” the conservative magazine Weekly Standard has asserted,

“that money spent on education does not correlate with results,” adding that, “Existing

40 For example, while a recent study by Standard & Poor’s researchers found that spending 65 percent more on classroom costs had no positive effect on academic achievement (quoted in Hoff 2005, p. 25), a comprehensive study of the National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) revealed that higher per pupil expenditures, smaller class size, higher levels of prekindergarten experience, and lower rates of teacher turnover predicted slight improvements in achievement (Grissmer et al. 2000). In another notable study, a Wisconsin school district found that increases in teacher salaries had negligible effects on academic achievement, but did improve student earnings considerably a decade later. The earnings impact was over 80 times greater than would have been with a comparable increase in students’ family income (Olson and Ackerman 2000).

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funds must be used more efficiently and strategically” (Reading without Money 2001, p.

13). No matter how conservative, there is an element of truth in such assertions.

Nonetheless, the opponents have, just as the proponents have, to include in their

comments considerations of neither the deeper problems in urban education, nor the

solutions that these problems naturally imply. The difference is that while proponents blame educational inequality on funding disparities, opponents have tended to blame the students, their families, or the “bureaucracy problem.” For instance, attorneys representing the State of New York in a recent court case regarding funding disparities in

New York City have argued that

[the state] is required only to provide the opportunity for a sound basic education, that it has done so, and that students’ failure to seize this opportunity is a product of various socio-economic deficits experienced by a large number of at risk students in New York City public schools (quoted in Hochschild and Skovronick 2003, p. 67, italics are original)

When the funding debate was heating up in the early 1990s, another conservative

commentator had suggested that “The money will be shoveled hastily into the bottomless

pit … that is, the cities” (Sacks 1990, p. A19), meaning, in part correctly, that the extra

funds will be wasted due to the problems of inefficiency and unaccountability in the

administrative bureaucracies of urban school systems. Regardless of whether one is for

or against funding equity, the basic parameters of the prevailing debate have been

inherently conservative because they have reinforced the concept of the neighborhood

school and ignored the non-school problems undermining education in the ghettos.

The same problem afflicts debates on the quality of instruction, which focus

largely on issues of teacher qualification. These debates have implausibly assumed that

more competent and experienced teachers, particularly those with better credentials, who

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are able to relate to disadvantaged students more successfully and who can effectively

use innovative pedagogies and methods when necessary can dramatically improve the

education of poor black students.

The shortage of highly qualified teachers has been a key problem in urban school

districts. A recent study by the Department of Education indicated that in 39 states, the

chances of finding teachers who know their subjects well was considerably greater in elementary schools where the median family income was the highest. This was also the

case in middle and high schools in 43 states (cited in King 2006). “It is simply unfair,”

one reformer has passionately pointed out, “that there is a shortage of qualified teachers

where they are need the most, in the city schools” (quoted in Romano 2006, p. A1).

According to North Carolina Governor, James B. Hunt, “We need to figure out ways

more of our [qualified] teachers can and want to teach in urban schools” (quoted in Keller

2005, p. 18). “Teacher quality,” the Education Director of the NAACP has argued, “is

the most important factor in improving the educational attainment level of a child”

(quoted in NEA Today 2004, p. 4).

While correcting the problem of low teacher quality is undoubtedly critical,

highly qualified teachers are hardly sufficient to compensate for other shortcomings in

segregated neighborhood schools. Neither are they sufficient enough to effectively teach

those students, who suffer from a considerable lack of cultural capital, as well as the

underlying lack of economic and social capital. A comprehensive recent study by the

National Board of Professional Teaching Standards (NBPTS) found the effect of

“certified” teachers on students’ academic progress was no different than that of non-

certified ones (Sanders, Ashton, and Wright 2006). More often than not, both school-

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related and non-school problems in urban districts serving poor black students

overwhelm the teachers, highly qualified or not.

Yet, the push for teacher qualification has been so strong that there have been

proposals to link teacher compensation to student performance in deprived urban

districts. Unsurprisingly, the fiercest critics of such proposals have been the teachers

themselves, often voicing their opposition through their unions. Teachers have been in

the best position to experience the unavoidable fact that, no matter how qualified they are

to teach, the systemic problems common in urban education are likely to undermine

student learning and success. 41 Unlike most other organizations, public schools have little control over their key inputs, namely their students (Riley 2002), which has been a central reason for many qualified and talented teachers to avoid deprived urban school districts in the first place (Claycomb 2000; Lankford, Loeb, and Wyckoff 2002). It is only natural for most teachers who work in such districts to feel apprehensive about policies that expect, if not demand, a high positive relationship between teacher qualifications and ultimate student outcomes.

Such apprehension is not unique to teachers. Individual schools and entire school districts have resisted to being held responsible for student outcomes as well. The concern to reverse the “rising tide of mediocrity” in American public education—

41 Rothstein (2004) offers a brilliant discussion on how flawed it is to assume that teacher quality can overcome deeper problems in segregated urban education. Particularly, he takes issue with the view that the disparities can be alleviated if poor black students can be taught three to five years in a row by teachers that are in the top quintile of teacher effectiveness measures. This is the “teacher’s value-added” argument popularized by Dr. William Sanders (Sanders and Rivers 1996). Rothstein identifies three fundamental problems with it. First, it is practically infeasible to recruit enough teachers in the top quintile of effectiveness (better than 90 percent of all the teachers) to allocate to poor urban neighborhood schools. Second, the alternative option of reassigning such teachers from suburban to urban schools is likely to meet with fierce resistance from affluent families as well as the teachers themselves. And third, even if the intended recruitment levels were reached or re-allocations made, the resulting increase in student achievement tends to remain at most around 20 percent, as Sander’s own research indicates.

217 expressed originally in A Nation at Risk—had given rise to efforts in the 1980s to test students more often and to hold them to higher standards. At the time, educational failure in urban school systems was blamed increasingly on the students and their families. This pattern of blame-shifting not only became more pronounced in the 1990s, but also expanded dramatically to include the schools as parties to be held responsible for eventual student outcomes. A persistent rhetoric of “standards and accountability,” has emerged where schools and districts are considered accountable for their students’ level of success or failure in achieving particular levels of proficiency in various academic areas. Throughout the 1990s, every state developed curricular standards and associated standardized tests for evaluating students, with the ultimate hope of pressuring urban schools to perform better in helping their students succeed. While a worthy goal, holding the schools accountable, without addressing the inherent ills of segregated neighborhood schools and the severe non-school problems these schools face, has made little, if any, difference in the degree of unfair educational inequality. But, few actors have questioned the wisdom of “standards and accountability” with regard to urban education.

In the fall of 2000, Democratic Presidential candidate Al Gore told voters that:

Our country should demand more from all of our teachers, students, schools, and states…, use state accountability systems to reward successful schools and identify failing schools to ensure they are turned around quickly…, encourage states to create rigorous high-school exit requirements and … help parents measure their children’s progress using … tests. (quoted in Hochschild and Skovronick 2003, p. 96-7)

A few months later, Republican President George W. Bush sounded as though he was reading from the same speech when he promised to “leave no child behind” and proposed legislation to increase accountability for student performance:

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States, districts and schools that improve achievement will be rewarded. Failure will be sanctioned. Parents will know how well their child is learning and that schools are held accountable for their effectiveness with … assessments. (quoted in Hochschild and Skovronick 2003, p. 97)

In addition to the message about the centrality of parental involvement (typical of the achievement paradigm), both remarks involve the view that life chances of disadvantaged children could be sufficiently improved without disrupting the basic pattern of class privilege in public education. Although it is true that most urban public schools currently fail as great equalizers, low standards for success has not been their core problem. In all fairness, lowering the academic standards may be a rational organizational response given the variety of other inherent weaknesses in segregated neighborhood schools, as well as the problems of ineffective parenting, material poverty, and neighborhood disorganization outside the schools. Indeed, there has been significant evidence to suggest that urban public schools tend to lower their criteria for academic success as well as “teach to the test” in order to meet state and federal requirements concerning student proficiency (Rothstein 2004).

“High standards and rigorous testing are critical for the success of inner city students whose progress has been stunted by underperforming schools,” a Florida policy expert has recently argued in commenting on a slight increase in third grade reading scores resulting from higher standards (quoted in Pinzur 2006, p. B1). “[Failing] schools ought to go out of business,” another expert from Houston has argued, adding that “[these schools] allow deviance and threaten the community and the school system as a whole”

(quoted in Dizikes 2001). Such views hold segregated neighborhood schools accountable for goals they are inherently incapable of reaching. As Ramon Cortines, who was the

School Chancellor of New York City in the mid-1990s, points out,

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to far too great an extent, this city’s school system has become a scapegoat, required to address the results of the city’s other ills—poverty, homelessness, the absence of other programs to assist children and families (quoted in Orfield 1996d, p. 99).

The danger in shifting the blame on to the schools, while letting other problems persist, is that it may lead to punitive strategies that make the situation even worse. For instance, the No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act of 2002, which is considered the most comprehensive federal reform policy since racial desegregation, imposes funding cuts and other reprimands on schools and school districts where students continuously fail.

This is a strategy that has pushed many school systems serving poor black children to choose between searching for ways to evade federal regulation and accept punishment

(Meier et al. 2004). In 2006, the State of Connecticut, which is home to several deprived urban districts, such as Hartford, New Heaven, and Bridgeport, sued the federal government over NCLB.

Treating teacher qualification and “standards and accountability” as the primary means to urban educational reform fosters the fallacious hope that incremental improvements to segregated neighborhood schools, rather than replacing them with integrated schools, can help facilitate equal start for many poor black children. Given the restrictions on the opportunity to openly challenge unfair educational inequality, pursuing

fallacious hopes has become a remedy in its own right.

3.6. THE FUNCTION OF DISCOURSE IN RATIONALIZING UNFAIR

INEQUALITY

Why,” Anyon (1997) asks, “with such a large percentage of urban districts

reporting [reform] activity, has the picture of education in inner cities not brightened

220 considerably?” (p. 9). Why has the return to segregated neighborhood schools, along with the rise of efforts around school choice, governance reform in the districts, administrative restructuring in the schools, funding equity (when meaningfully accomplished), higher teacher qualification, and standards and accountability not resulted in decisive changes in the education of poor black students? The reason, in a nutshell, is that the problem of unfair inequality has been resolved by symbolic rather than substantive means. This is a classic pattern in latent conflict, where the agency of the dominant group creates conditions such that unfair social relations appear fair, largely through blame-shifting and the pursuit of ineffectual and tokenistic remedies (Edelman

1964, 1977). The discourse of contemporary reforms cloaks the true nature of urban educational inequality by promoting the view that significant strides are constantly taken to fulfill the great equalizer ideal of American public education. In actual fact, though, not only has the U.S. regressed on the goal of substantive improvement in the ghettos, but the discursive aspects of subsequent reforms have helped save face in regards to the deprivation.

In the greater scheme of things, the contemporary reforms constitute a “sugar pill,” regardless of whether those who advocate these reforms and those who are subject to them are privately aware of the situation. A few decades earlier, the opportunity to contest the legitimacy of the neighborhood school had made it possible to unveil the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing. The extent to which the individualistic interests of the affluent had eclipsed the concern for collective interests, which public schooling has promised to serve, was exposed. This, in turn, had helped change the organizational form of urban public schools in a manner that defied the

221 pattern of class privilege. It was a significant substantive intervention that brought urban public schools closer to the ideal of the great equalizer more than ever before, and ever since. Today, the restriction on the opportunity for manifest conflict ensures that the contradiction remains concealed and the principal problems and associated remedies remain safely unspoken. The interests of poor black children are effectively subverted because the scope of potential grievances and resulting policies are severely limited. Ted

Shaw, a dedicated NAACP attorney, describes the situation as follows:

I would not go back to the old order. Yet here we are with the realities we face today. If schools are going to continue to be separate in most cities, then we have to ask if we can get at least the “equal” part. Nothing in our history would lead us to believe that this is possible but that is the box we’re in....” (quoted in Kozol 2004, p. 274)

The “box” Shaw mentions is the “structure” for poor black children brought on by the agency—that is, the actions, inactions, and choices—of the predominantly white affluent. It is a box which imposes separate and inherently inferior schooling and excludes any meaningful consideration of the non-school problems that urban public schools are ideally expected to counteract in their efforts to level the playing field in the

American class hierarchy. The box is rationalized by the conservative assumptions and beliefs that permeate the current conversation on urban education, which is likely to endure in the absence of manifest conflict to restore fairness. “Genuine debates and action,” argues educational historian David Tyack,

is precisely where we should be in a democratic society, instead of sweeping disadvantages under the rug and social injustice under the rug. We sometimes forget where we were in 1954 and I see a net gain for society. (quoted in Mondale and Patton 2001, p. 168)

Historical experience in the U.S. suggests that authentic conversations that address the most obvious problems and required remedies regarding urban public schools

222 are unlikely to transpire unless there is sufficient opportunity to contest the legitimacy of the neighborhood school concept. As noted earlier, if the link between class position and schooling constitutes the Pandora’s Box in American public education, then the neighborhood school is the lock on that box. Questioning and publicly challenging that organizational form is the first step in confronting unfair educational inequality, the first step to tackle not only the problem of “separate and unequal,” but also the effects of severe non-school problems that urban public schools continue to confront.

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CHAPTER 4

AN INSTITUTIONAL VIEW OF THE LATENT CONFLICT AROUND

SEGREGATED PUBLIC EDUCATION IN THE UNITED STATES

4.1. THE RELEVANCE OF THE NEW INSTITUTIONALISM IN

ORGANIZATIONAL SOCIOLOGY TO URBAN EDUCATIONAL

INEQUALITY

Why would a social group who is disadvantaged by a discriminatory

organizational form fail to question and openly challenge the legitimacy of that form?

What is it that renders such organizational forms uncontested? The problem is significant

to classical democratic and critical theories alike, because, in a broad sense, both share

the notion that the action of the oppressed will serve to counter unfair inequality. The

central theoretical challenge in this regard is to account for the causes and the processes

of subordinate group quiescence. The functionalist or pluralist view readily disregards

the possibility of latent conflict and interprets quiescence as a sign of genuine harmony or

“social integration” between the dominant and subordinate groups concerning the appropriateness of the status quo (e.g., Dahl 1961; Polsby 1963; Parsons 1967; Verba and

Nie 1972). As such, it places little emphasis on the role of power in the structuring of social hierarchies.

In contrast, the emphasis on power’s role in latent conflict often takes scholars to the other extreme where they draw on radical approaches, such as Marxism and neo-

Marxism, which commonly treat quiescence as a sign of ideological indoctrination or

“false consciousness” (e.g., Althusser 1970; Poulantzas 1973; Habermas 1975). This is a

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process where the subordinate group internalizes a misleading version of social reality, a false discourse, brought on by agency of the dominant group, along with associated practices, which work against subordinate group interests and wellbeing. Although radical scholars focus on the role of power in perpetuating unfair inequality, they ignore the full range of possibilities that the notion of political opportunity structure implies.

False consciousness is only one possible outcome of the restriction of opportunity for manifest conflict because quiescence may occur without effective cognitive manipulation. The subordinate group need not necessarily internalize a false discourse, at least not fully, in order to endure deprivation, regardless of the extent to which the false discourse remains salient in the social hierarchy (Barbalet 1987; Hay 1997). Although every social order is explained and justified by a particular discourse, the actors reproducing that order possess an inherent capability to exercise, what Giddens (1979,

1984) refers to as “reflexivity.” They could contemplate on and criticize the predominant discourse with varying degrees of success, at least privately, if not publicly. Thus, irrespective of the lack of opportunity for active dissent, one may recognize the deceptive and disingenuous aspects of a false discourse that rationalizes unfairness. Likewise, as

Gamson (1995) points out, “one may be completely convinced of the desirability of changing a situation while gravely doubting the possibility of changing it” (p. 89).

According to Mann (1970), quiescence may at times be due to “rational conformity,” rooted in a sense of pragmatic acceptance or helplessness (see also Abercrombie, Hill, and Turner 1980). Rational conformity may also be rooted in feelings of pessimism

(Friere 1990), intimidation (Hunter 1953; Schattschneider 1960), and inefficacy (Gaventa

1980).

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Ultimately, whether the restriction of opportunity for manifest conflict produces

quiescence by means of false consciousness or rational conformity is irrelevant to the role

of power in latent conflict because, in either case, the interests of the subordinate group

remain subverted, that is, unrecognized and/or unexpressed. The net result is that the practices that perpetuate unfair inequality are reproduced without challenge; they retain their uncontested status. Accordingly, a sound understanding of latent conflict around school desegregation in the U.S. must meet two basic criteria. While it must obviously avoid functionalism’s rosy image of social integration, it must also refrain from treating

false consciousness—or, what Gitlin (1980) has called the “magical explanation of last resort” (p. 252) for radical theorists—as the sole basis for subordinate group quiescence.

It should remain open to the possibility of rational conformity. Basically, the required perspective must accommodate the full range of possibilities that the notion of political

opportunity structure implies.

A promising candidate, in this regard, is the new institutionalism in organizational

sociology (Meyer and Rowan 1977; Zucker 1977, 1983; DiMaggio and Powell 1983;

Scott 1995, 2001). Institutionalists account for the cognitive underpinnings of various

social practices and routines, particularly organizational forms, from a “social

constructionist” (Berger and Luckmann 1966) rather than a radical or critical perspective.

They therefore provide novel grounds on which to account for power relations associated

with the uncontestedness or taken for grantedness of discriminatory organizational forms,

such as the racially segregated neighborhood schools in the American class hierarchy. If

a relevant set of actors take a particular organizational form for granted, in large part

because they see no alternatives to it, then that organizational form can be considered an

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“institution”—a social routine that is reproduced through everyday action without contest

or challenge (Meyer and Rowan 1977; Zucker 1983; Jepperson 1991).

There is room in institutionalism for understanding subordinate group quiescence

both as a function of false consciousness and as a function of rational conformity. More

importantly, the true character of quiescence is a peripheral issue for institutionalists as

long as there exists a broad discourse that explains and justifies the prevailing

organizational forms. While the powerless may internalize a false discourse and hold the

associated organizational forms in high regard, they may also have a “strategic” view of

the status quo and exhibit cosmetic compliance by decoupling their true activities from

the formal requirements to the best extent possible (Meyer and Rowan 1977; Oliver

1991; Beckert 1999). When decoupling is not a viable option, members of the

subordinate group may fully comply, but at the same time remain perpetually open to the

prospect of more equitable organizational forms, in case if such alternatives come up

along with a viable chance to adopt them.

In order to account for such dynamics, institutionalists have expanded their

frameworks in two ways in recent years. First, they have embraced a fragmented view of

culture consisting of conflicting discourses and an array of alternative organizational

forms that actors can choose from depending on their needs, capabilities, resources, and ultimately, their power (Friedland and Alford 1991; Sewell 1992; Scott 1995, 2001;

DiMaggio 1997; Stryker 2000, 2002). Second, and more recently, they have incorporated the notion of political opportunity structure as a key factor that predicts the rise and

demise of alternative organizational forms and the discourses that legitimate those forms

(e.g., Rao, Morrill, and Zald 2000; McAdam and Scott 2005; Greve, Pozner, and Rao

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2006). These developments in the new institutionalism, along with its traditional emphasis on organizational legitimacy as cognitive taken for grantedness, are uniquely instrumental in examining the effect of class dynamics on school desegregation. To date, no desegregation scholar has addressed the uncontestedness of the neighborhood school concept and the false discourse that legitimates that concept as issues pertinent to the study of latent conflict affecting poor black children. Yet, no consideration of latent conflict would be complete without a rigorously analytical treatment of the discursive aspects involved in rationalizing the unfair status quo.

There is another advantage in such an approach. As valuable as the new institutionalism is in contributing to the scholarly knowledge on unfair educational inequality in the U.S., the topic of school desegregation also provides a chance to extend the institutional theory of organizations. This is because, although institutionalism could effectively address latent conflict, it ironically has not done so. In examining politics, institutional studies have commonly focused on the rise rather than the prevention of manifest conflict around particular organizational forms and practices, while only hinting at the relevance of studying latent conflict (see Clemens and Cook 1999; Stryker 2000).

A key problem has been that institutionalists have embraced a behaviorist conception of power, looking for visible struggles to explain politics. They therefore have failed to treat the absence of open controversy as the ultimate sign of politics. In this regard, the notion of opportunity structure remains underutilized in institutionalism because the consequences of the limited opportunity for manifest conflict have not received the same attention that those of expanded opportunity have.

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Another problem has been that institutionalism has retained an organizational or,

more precisely, an inter-organizational level of analysis, thereby lacking a proper

conception of class politics. Even those studies that refer to classes and class interests

(e.g., DiMaggio 1991; Scott et al. 2000; Ruef 2004) have typically conceptualized the

social context as one that is constituted by organizations and inter-organizational

relationships. Although the links between classes and organizations have been

acknowledged, even emphasized when necessary, both agency and compliance have been

paradigmatically attributed to organizations rather than larger collectivities such as social

classes.

As the American experience with school desegregation illustrates, while some

aspects of the class dynamics can be captured in reference to organizational actions, such

as the efforts of the NAACP and the rulings of the Supreme Court, other aspects cannot, such as the voting patterns of the predominantly white affluent during Presidential and

Congressional elections, as well as the broader pattern of suburbanization exacerbated by racial integration in urban districts. Most importantly, the agency of the dominant group

in bringing about latent conflict may involve inaction rather than action. In other words,

the dominant group in the class hierarchy may choose to do nothing or simply remain

indifferent to the suffering of the subordinate group, and thus fail to undertake actions

that it could otherwise take in order to address the situation and restore fairness. Under

those conditions, viewing the terrain as an inter-organizational one and, subsequently,

setting out to observe organizational actions would be a disservice to the study of latent

conflict. For the lack of contentious activity in the inter-organizational context may be

the most relevant feature of the political situation.

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Thus, in developing an institutional view of latent conflict, it is necessary to

extend the new institutionalism in terms of its conception of power as well as its

customary level of analysis. Only then, properly institutional hypotheses could be

posited regarding the discursive aspects involved in rationalizing the unfair status quo in urban education.

4.2. AN OVERVIEW OF THE NEW INSTITUTIONALIST LITERATURE IN

ORGANIZATIONAL SOCIOLOGY

4.2.1. Early insights and basic weaknesses

The institutional perspective is largely a product of the efforts in the late 1970s to account for the cultural or cognitive, as opposed to technological, economic, and evolutionary basis of organizations in modern societies. Prior to institutional accounts, external forces that affected organizational structure and design were viewed mostly in techno-economic terms (e.g., Lawrence and Lorsch 1967; Thompson 1967). In a seminal discussion, Meyer and Rowan (1977) pointed out that, external forces included cognitive elements as well. They argued that formal organizational structures were “rational myths” or cognitively taken for granted ways of organizing people, activities, and resources toward specific ends. These myths—be they components of organizational structure, such as total quality standards, diversity guidelines, or work group arrangements, or wholesale organizational templates, such as the multidivisional form— did not always contribute positively to bottom-line efficiency and effectiveness, but endured nonetheless because they defined how a particular organization should look or

230 appear to its external constituents. Whether the adopting parties genuinely embraced rational myths or not was irrelevant because such myths had to be adopted in order secure organizational legitimacy, which was critical for survival. Rational myths were, Meyer and Rowan (1977) noted, “beyond the discretion of any individual participant or organization” (p. 344) because they were part of a set of deeply held cognitive typifications or interpretations prevalent in the fabric of the broader sociology of knowledge in society (Berger and Luckmann 1966).

Essentially, a given organizational form persisted because some people, usually external constituents, considered it appropriate and others, typically the internal constituents, complied. This innovative approach not only blew in the face of mainstream organization theory at the time, but also involved a conception of legitimacy that was significantly different from the one that was prevalent in previous theoretical accounts of institutionalism, or the “old” institutionalism, which emphasized the role of moral and normative, as opposed to cognitive, factors in legitimation (e.g., Selznick

1949, 1957; Parsons 1951; Stinchcombe 1968). In addition, the new institutionalist perspective was profoundly different than Marxist and neo-Marxist views of organizational forms and practices as “reified” or deeply internalized artifacts that resulted from cognitive manipulation or ideological indoctrination. Institutional scholars rejected the notion of deep internalization by adopters, leaving room for agency and reflexivity. As Zucker (1983) argued, although the institutionalization of an organizational form was “rooted in conformity,” this was “not conformity engendered by sanctions (whether positive or negative), not conformity resulting from a ‘black box’ internalization process, but conformity rooted in the taken for granted aspects of

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everyday life” (p. 5). An organizational form gained legitimacy and became an

institution when the majority of relevant actors ceased their search for other ways of organizing people, activities, and resources. Thus, the ultimate source of taken for grantedness was the lack or unavailability of alternatives. Meyer and Scott (1983/1992) defined legitimacy as follows:

Organization is in part a matter of shared opinion… [Therefore] legitimacy refers to the adequacy of an organization as theory. A completely legitimate organization would be one about which no question could be raised. Every goal is specified, and reasonably important. Every technical means is adequate and has no alternative. Every human and external resource used is necessary and adequate. Every aspect of the control system is complete and without alternative, including the organization’s link to its sovereign (i.e., its regime), and to its field of activity of implementation. Perfect legitimation is perfect theory, complete (i.e., without uncertainty) and confronted by no alternatives. (p. 201, italics are added)

“No alternatives” is the key phrase here. The emphasis on cognitive taken for grantedness stimulated several studies addressing the persistence of institutionalized organizational forms (e.g., Meyer, Scott and Deal 1981; Rowan 1982; Tolbert and Zucker

1983; Baron, Dobbin, and Jennings 1986; Meyer, Scott, and Strang 1987). Tolbert and

Zucker’s (1983) study of the rise and spread of civil service reform across the American cities is a classic example. The authors showed that, while the new municipal practices were considerably customized by the adopting cities in the early phases of diffusion

(1880-1910) based on city characteristics such as age, size, and ethnic diversity, such characteristics had no correlation with the scope and content of the reforms that were adopted in later phases of diffusion (1910-1935). In the later phases, a single, archetypal version of the original reform was taken for granted by the adopting cities, regardless of each city’s unique features. This indicated that, irrespective of their specific

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characteristics and needs, the late adopting cities complied with an uncontested definition

of the reform, one that had already taken on a life of its own during the early phases of

the diffusion. This predominant version had become an “institution” simply because

“most cities had it.” An institutionalized organizational form was one that was

profoundly resistant to change, regardless of whether the relevant adopters benefited from

it in terms of efficiency and effectiveness (Zucker 1987). “Institutionalization simply

constructs the way things are,” Zucker (1983) argued, “alternatives may be unthinkable”

(p. 5). According to Scott (2001), “attention to the cultural-cognitive dimension of institutions [has been] the major distinguishing feature of neo-institutionalism within

sociology” (p. 57; see also DiMaggio and Powell 1991, p. 15-8).

In the early 1980s, two network sociologists made another seminal contribution to

the emerging theory by formulating the concept of organizational field. By drawing on

the notions of connectedness and structural equivalence and the concept of structuration,

DiMaggio and Powell (1983) argued that palpable network connections among

organizations transmitted organizational forms in a given context. That context was

defined as an organizational field, composed of

those organizations that, in the aggregate, constitute a recognized area of institutional life: key suppliers, resource and product consumers, regulatory [state] agencies, and other organizations that produce similar services or products (p. 143).

It was within organizational fields, DiMaggio and Powell (1983) maintained, that

the institutionalization of organizational forms occurred, meaning that other levels of

analysis, such as social class and race, were not as relevant, at least not as “analytically”

relevant although conceptually pertinent. Institutionalization transpired by means of

three specific mechanisms: coercive, normative, and mimetic. The coercive mechanism

233 was characterized by a process where influential organizations, such as state agencies, courts, trade associations, unions, and industry boards in the relevant organizational field enforced certain organizational forms in the form of explicit rules and regulations. The majority of adopting organizations complied out of expedience. The normative mechanism involved the effects of educational bodies, professional associations, consumer rights organizations, political or economic watchdogs, policy associations, advocacy groups, and certification and accreditation boards. These actors prescribed certain organizational forms by means of normative sanctions, and the others complied largely on the basis of social obligation. For example, colleges and universities schooled members of various organizations into particular ways of doing work, such as the medical schools training doctors to respect patients’ rights, or business schools training MBAs in the conduct of corporate social responsibility. In other cases, adopting organizations had to change their structures in ways that guaranteed accreditation or certification by important bodies in their fields, such as the American Psychological Association accrediting police precincts for establishing sensitivity training labs, or the National

Board of Teaching Standards creating incentives for school districts for having their teachers be trained in the latest pedagogical techniques.

Finally, the mimetic mechanism of institutionalization occurred by means of imitation among the majority of organizations within the relevant organizational field.

For instance, a particular organizational form or practice spread simply because it was copied, such as an innovative way to organize manufacturing used by a visibly successful corporation being replicated by other organizations in its industry.

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According to DiMaggio and Powell (1983), coercive, normative, and mimetic

mechanisms created a considerable degree of “isomorphism” in organizational fields,

“making organizations more similar, without necessarily making them more efficient” (p.

147). Whether through formal rules, social norms, or imitation, certain organizational forms eventually gained an uncontested status; they were cognitively taken for granted and were therefore reproduced without much friction. “Once a field becomes well established,” the authors noted, “there is an inexorable push toward homogenization” (p.

148). This was an important insight that contrasted significantly with the concern in population ecology, the other prominent approach in macro organization theory, to explain the dissimilarity of organizations in a given context (e.g., Hannan and Freeman

1977).

More than anything, however, DiMaggio and Powell (1983) enabled institutionalists to settle on a commonly accepted level of analysis. This was a milestone in what Tolbert and Zucker (1996) later called the “institutionalization of institutional theory.” The concept of organizational field gradually came to connote the “range of jurisdiction” of a cognitively taken for granted organizational form or set of forms, a context where a community of organizations that partakes of a common meaning system whose participants interact more frequently and fatefully with one another than with others outside the field (Scott 1992b).

In addition to casting the organizational field as the appropriate level of analysis,

DiMaggio and Powell’s (1983) discussion also provided the basis for a “much needed perspective on the political struggle” regarding the prevalence of organizational forms missing from mainstream organizational sociology at time (p. 157). The notion of

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organizational field could be put to use in considering the role of power and conflict in

the legitimacy of organizational forms and the structuring of entire networks in which the

process of institutionalization occurred. In other words, the political dynamics affecting

the legitimation of organizational forms within a given field as well as the dynamics

affecting the field itself could be examined by means of observing the origins and outcomes of inter-organizational relationships among field constituents. Where did a

given organizational form come from? Whose project was it? Why does it persist while

its alternatives remain unavailable or unnoticed? Since no social routine or practice lasts

forever, how does an institutionalized organizational form lose its legitimacy and how

does it change, or even disappear completely? Whose interests prevail in such processes?

Likewise, where does a given organizational field come from? How and when do the

dynamics and relationships in it change? Who are the dominant agents that influence

these processes?

The possibility of inquiring into such matters made the new institutionalism the

principal perspective in organizational sociology that could address the problem of the

politics of social construction, a problem that Berger and Luckmann (1966) had placed

special emphasis on. Though they had not thought about institutionalization in specific

reference to organizational fields, Berger and Luckmann had argued that “He who has the

bigger stick has the better chance of imposing his definition of reality” (p. 109). They

had also pointed out that, when a multitude of potentially competing social routines and

practices were available in society, the issue of which one prevailed over others would

ultimately “depend more on the power than on the theoretical ingenuity of the respective

legitimators” (p. 109).

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Nonetheless, the topics of politics and change took a back seat in the early years of institutional research. Much of the work centered around three themes: the diffusion of organizational forms (Tolbert and Zucker 1983; Fligstein 1985); responses of adopting organizations to various institutional pressures in their organizational fields (Scott and

Meyer 1983/1994; Meyer, Scott, and Strang 1987), and the content of the cultural or cognitive patterns that permeated organizational fields (Leblebici and Salancik 1982).

Scott (1987) noted that the 1980s were a period when the institutional theory of organizations reached the stage of a promising adolescent.

It was also a period when institutionalism gained a reputation as a “theory of stability and compliance,” running the risk of portraying social actors as over-socialized

“cognitive dopes.” As a result, its inattention to politics and change was severely criticized. Perrow (1985), for instance, stressed that the preoccupation with demonstrating the nature and the influence of taken for granted organizational forms had led to the “neglect of power and group interests” (p. 154) among the new institutionalists.

Hall (1992) noted that an overemphasis on the processes of persistence and isomorphism in organizational fields put institutionalism at risk of making tautological arguments— such as, “organizational forms are institutionalized because they are legitimate.” He, along with Hirsch (1997), also argued that institutionalism failed to differentiate between what is real and what is a myth or a pure cognitive artifact in organizational fields.

However, the most serious criticism came from the founders of the “old” institutionalism in organizational sociology, such as Selznick (1996) and Stinchcombe (1997). Selznick called attention to the failure of the new institutionalists to account for the ways in which value- and interest-driven conflicts on social problems in society shaped the contentious

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processes in organizational fields. Likewise, Stinchcombe emphasized that the

“institutions of the new institutionalism” were not conceptualized in a way sufficient to capture the effects of competing interests in relevant social contexts.

4.2.2. Responses to criticisms and the process of theoretical maturation

These were well founded criticisms and the new institutionalists took them seriously. As a matter of fact, they were already engaged in a process self-criticism over their failure to account for politics and change. Scott (1987) stressed that the neglect of power and conflict was “to ignore significant casual factors shaping organizational structures and practices …, to misspecify our causal models” (p. 508). Zucker (1987) made a similar point, noting that an account of politics was essential to explaining why

certain organizational forms became institutions while others could not. DiMaggio

(1988) provided the most pointed criticism, arguing that institutionalism had

“defocalized” the role of interests and agency in organizational fields. His discussion

clarified the inevitable need to focus on the role of politics in the reproduction, creation, and de-institutionalization of organizational forms. The agency or the “institutional work” of the elite, DiMaggio argued, was particularly pertinent to not only the rise and demise of organizational forms, but also their maintenance. The “elite” in an organizational field involved anyone capable of influencing the coercive, normative, and mimetic mechanisms of institutionalization. The competition among elite interests determined the allocation of resources to promulgate certain organizational forms and to undermine other ones. It also determined the “public theory,” that is, the discourse, which justified and explained the reigning organizational forms. Without a well-enacted

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public theory, DiMaggio noted, organizational forms “will be highly unstable in their structures … and programs” (p. 15). In essence, the new institutionalists readily acknowledged the need to firmly place politics and change on the institutional agenda

(DiMaggio and Powell 1991). Thus, most institutional studies from the early 1990s and

on have constituted a rigorous response to the criticisms.

The response has unfolded in two broad ways. One group of institutionalists have

addressed the effects of interests and agency in organizational responses to institutional

pressures, while another group has focused on the political nature of field-level dynamics

affecting organizational forms.42 In their original discussion, Meyer and Rowan (1977)

had emphasized that adopters of institutionalized organizational forms did not necessarily

have to genuinely embrace those forms. Oliver (1991) developed this notion further by

incorporating insights from Pfeffer and Salancik’s (1978) theory of resource dependence

and Child’s (1972) concept of strategic choice, both of which emphasized the extent to

which organizations exhibited discretion in response to external pressures, be they

economic, political, technological, or cultural (institutional). Oliver proposed that,

depending on their interests, potentially compliant organizations could engage in varying

degrees of agency in managing coercive, normative, and mimetic mechanisms in their

respective fields. They could acquiesce, develop compromise responses (e.g., partial

compliance), avoid compliance (such as through cosmetic adoption), defy the pressures

(by means of challenge or direct attacks), or, if they are powerful enough, then they could actively manipulate the prevalent organizational forms by influencing the definition and specific features of these forms.

42 There is also a third category of studies, focusing on the micro-aspects of institutionalization, particularly within organizations. These studies have been rare. See, for instance, Barley (1986) and Covalevski and Dirsmith (1988).

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Oliver’s propositions were empirically confirmed by a number of studies.

D’Aunno, Sutton, and Price (1991), for instance, showed that drug abuse treatment centers developed compromise responses to competing pressures for adopting multiple organizational forms in the mental health sector. In a typical center, some treatment practices reflected a view of drug abuse as a mental problem caused by stressful events in the external environment of the person, while other practices regarded drug abuse as an internal, individual problem, which can only be cured if the person took responsibility for it. Goodstein (1994) verified patterns of acquiescence, compromise, avoidance, and defiance in private industries regarding practices around employer involvement in work- family issues. Private and public employers typically determined the nature and degree of their involvement in work-family issues based on the strength of external (regulatory and normative) pressures towards involvement as well as concerns for bottom-line efficiency and cost. Lower levels of involvement were common when bottom-line concerns were high and institutional pressures were low. Judge and Zeithaml (1992) provided similar evidence from private industry, but in regards to practices governing the degree of board involvement in strategic decisions of organizations.

Montgomery and Oliver (1996) found considerable evidence for a contingency model they proposed, specifying the conditions under which hospitals manifested patterns discussed by Oliver (1991) in developing responses to AIDS-related policies and practices. Depending on (1) which external constituents had more clout— professional/medical associations vs. patients’ rights advocacy groups—and (2) whether a particular rule or regulation was AIDS-specific or applicable to any disease, hospitals

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incorporated various AIDS treatment methods and norms into their organizational

structures and work arrangements.

In another notable study, again from the medical field, but departing from

Oliver’s (1991) framework, Goodrick and Salancik (1996) determined that hospitals

exhibited greater interest-driven responses to the prevailing organizational forms when

the content of these forms were inherently ambiguous (see also Becket 1999).

Specifically, physicians tended to proceed in a profit-maximizing fashion when emergencies occurred at child birth that put the mother’s and the baby’s life at risk.

Because organizational and medical rules and regulations for such emergency situations were by nature incomplete and equivocal, utilitarian responses were permissible.

Therefore, the physicians treated mothers with insurance coverage differently than they did mothers without coverage. Similarly, Edelman (1992) and Edelman, Uggen, and

Erlanger (1999) found that employers strategically used the inherent ambiguity of equal employment practices enforced by the federal government in order to shape those practices in light of their particular needs and capacities. The employers simply worked their own interests into equal employment law by actively “participating in the meaning of compliance,” which eventually “rendered the law endogenous” (p. 407). Dobbin et al.

(1993) provided more specific evidence on the role of “personnel managers” in the dynamics exposed by Edelman and her colleagues.

Studies addressing political dynamics at the level of organizational fields have been more varied and have responded more rigorously to DiMaggio’s (1988) call for examining the contentious processes surrounding the creation, destruction, and maintenance of organizational forms, as well as the “public theories” or discourses that

241 legitimated these forms. A key insight that has propelled these studies was the acknowledgement that organizational fields were typically fragmented and conflicted rather than uniform and socially integrated terrains, involving a diversity of capable actors with opposing interests (Scott 1991; Scott and Meyer 1991). Politics, after all, implies a multiplicity of interest-driven agents in the relevant context.

Prominent examples of institutional creation studies

Institutional creation studies are particularly effective in revealing the political nature of institutional processes, since competing interests are likely to be most visible during the controversies over the structure and meaning of emerging of social practices

(Berger and Luckmann 1966). Mezias (1990) shows, for example, how the “ideological struggle” among managers, owners, lenders, and security analysts has shaped the nature of reporting practices in the financial industry between 1962 and 1984. His analysis indicates that the effects of political variables were more pronounced than the effects of purely economic ones. DiMaggio (1991) documents a similar dynamic in the development of art museums in the U.S. between 1920 and 1940. Contending factions, such as curators, art historians, acquisition experts, museum managers, and philanthropic foundations (e.g., the Carnegie Corporation), struggled over the definition of museum mission and structure based on their own beliefs about what art is and who is entitled to enjoy it. This process not only gave rise to the art museum filed, but also to two alternative museum forms in the U.S., an elitist model and a populist model.

Brint and Karabel (1991) illustrate the political process of both the creation and the subsequent transformation of the concept of community college in the U.S.

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Community colleges were originally established in the early 1900s, mostly by academics excluded by their colleagues at four-year colleges who viewed the community college as an inferior school. Between 1960 and 1980, a political process ensued, involving the federal government, community college administrators, private business owners, leading four-year colleges, and the American Association of Junior Colleges. As a result of this process, community colleges were “vocationalized” and re-defined as semiprofessional training schools that provided a valuable human resource service to industry. In the predominant discourse, they were no longer perceived as merely inferior schools, but as viable alternatives to four-year colleges.

Dezalay and Garth (1996) examine that the political process involved in the rise of arbitration rules in international commerce in the 1970s and 1980s. The agents included the Western business elite, the International Chamber of Commerce, various state agencies, and a new breed of “technocrats” housed in U.S. corporate law firms.

Although the arbitration rules that gained legitimacy in the early 1980s reflected a considerable compromise among the contending parties, the legal interpretations of the technocrats were particularly influential because the eventual rules heavily reflected the discourse of American trade law.

In another set of important studies, Mohr (1994) and Mohr and Duquenne (1997) document the contentious process of differentiation in the organizational structure and mission of poverty relief organizations in New York City between 1888 and 1907.

Municipal and state agencies, private philanthropists, and the leading social workers in the city competed with each other to impose their definition of what poverty relief involves and how it should be delivered. Eventually, a multitude of organizational forms,

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rather than a single one, dominated the field of poverty relief. These forms varied in

terms of three cultural or conceptual axes: definitions of who is poor and who is not, the kinds of social needs of problems that were identified, and the kinds of solution repertoires recognized. Mohr’s studies are unique in that they are able to empirically illustrate (by means of multidimensional scaling on textual data) the dimensions of the broader discourse that proffered legitimacy to the pool of organizational forms in the poverty relief field. Mohr’s work provides important empirical insights regarding what

Suchman (forthcoming) calls the cognitive “genetics of organization,” that is, the linguistic elements that underpin the common assumptions about the structure, function, and mission of a given organizational form.

Prominent examples of institutional maintenance studies

It is an inherently difficult task to expose the politics of institutional maintenance

because the agency involved may be markedly subtle and infrequent. After all, the

central insight in the new institutionalism is that once an organizational form becomes

taken for granted, its alternatives receive little or no attention. Therefore, dominant agents who perpetuate an already institutionalized organizational form are likely to put in only limited efforts. Also, in the majority of cases, the activities of the dominant agents

that help maintain the existing institutions may appear apolitical, even to the agents

themselves, because institutionalization by nature implies uncontestedness, meaning that the actions of the dominant agents may not be openly confronted by opposing interests; subordinate agents may remain quiescent. Finally, institutional maintenance may involve

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inaction—things that dominant agents could do in order to bring about change, but are

choosing not to do because the prevailing organizational forms serve their interests.

The potentially political nature of seemingly apolitical actions and the prevalence

of inaction in situations of opposing interests have not been adequately addressed by

institutionalists, though these are particularly relevant for understanding the dynamics of latent conflict around certain organizational forms. The case of segregated neighborhood schools and the unfair inequality they perpetuate are a case in point. The exercise of preventative power in regards to unfair inequality in urban education in the U.S. has involved not only the explicit actions and choices, but also the inactions and the indifference of the dominant group in race relations. Such power has restricted the opportunity for the subordinate group to openly challenge the concept of the neighborhood school. Therefore, in some situations, the lack of open controversy and the subsequent maintenance of institutionalized organizational forms may be the best indication of politics.

Nevertheless, four institutionalist studies stand out as good examples of inquiry into the politics of institutional maintenance. Miller (1994) looks at the factors that facilitate the longevity of the Basel Mission, a Pietist order founded in early 19th century

Germany to educate missionaries and establish evangelical outposts around the globe.

Although not a properly field-level analysis, Miller’s work shows how a particular group of dominant ecclesiastical elite outmaneuvered other groups to work their own worldview and value system into the structure and functioning of the mission in the 1815 to 1915 period. The dominant group’s preferences permeated the prevalent discourse around the

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recruitment criteria, socialization practices, and bureaucratic structures of all the outposts

connected to the central authority in Basel.

Van De Ven and Garud (1994) examine the maintenance of particular

organizational forms associated with innovation in the medical equipment filed. They

focus particularly on the practices involved in the development of cochlear implants from

the mid-1950s to late 1980s. They find that, while the first two decades involved a high

variation in organizational arrangements to stimulate innovation, the rest of the period

was characterized by a few specific arrangements (such as, skunk works departments and

incentive structures that reward risk taking by gifted engineers) becoming highly

institutionalized and others being actively kept from the organizational field. Although

evolutionary forces were play, the interests of large and powerful corporations in the field

were also influential in maintaining the legitimate organizational structure and methods

for technological innovation. The leading corporations worked diligently to keep their

own methods of innovations as standard practices endorsed by the dominant discourse in

the organizational field. This process was in part a political move for the leading

corporations who viewed it as a means to protect their competitive advantage. They

simply helped maintain those practices that other organizations were not as equipped to

establish and implements as they were. Much of the influence occurred through the

mimetic mechanism, but regulatory factors also had an effect.

Gullien‘s (1994) study of the 20th century managerial ideologies in the U.S.,

Germany, Great Britain, and Spain is a historical account of how the unique features of the political process in each country gave rise to and have helped maintain context- specific organizational forms and practices. The key agents that were active in each

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country included the labor unions, state agencies, professional associations, and

management experts. These four groups not only competed with each other to shape the indigenous organizational forms in their country, but also actively maintained their

country’s predominant organizational forms by resisting various international pressures

to adopt different management techniques.

The final example involves a case of failure in institutional maintenance. Cole

(1999) and Cole and Scott (2000) explain the reason for the rather quick demise of total

quality management (TQM) in the U.S. The failure was ultimately the result of a stifling

contention among consultants, professional associations, the federal government, and

leading companies in private industry about the proper definition and vision of TQM.

These agents, Cole argues, pursued their sectional interests to such an extent that a

predominant discourse about TQM never emerged in the U.S. He contrasts the problem

to the dynamics in Japan and Sweden, where similar agents managed to reach a

compromise regarding the definition and implementation of TQM.

Prominent examples of deinstitutionalization studies

Like any social routine or practice, institutionalized organizational forms fall into

disuse under particular conditions. While evolutionary and functional factors often play

an important role in deinstitutionalization, political factors are central as well (Oliver

1992). For instance, Davis, Diekmann, and Tinsley (1994) argue that that the political

actions of the state, the leading business consultants, and particularly influential venture

capitalists brought about a change in the “authoritative analogies” (the discourse)

legitimating predominant ways of organizing private businesses in the U.S. Between

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1960 and 1980, the organic metaphor of the “firm as body” was gradually replaced by the

notion of the “firm as portfolio” (see also Fligstein 1990). As a result of the discursive

change, the concept of the conglomerate firm was deinstitutionalized as an organizational

form. This ultimately served the sectional interests of venture capitalists giving them the

flexibility to acquire and sell “components” of businesses rather than always having to

deal with entire operation.

Tolbert and Sine (1999) document the decline of faculty tenure systems in

American institutions of higher education between 1965 and 1995. Although incumbent

faculty has a vested professional interest in the maintenance of the tenure system, an

increasing number of universities and colleges have been creating non-tenure-track

faculty positions in order to cut overhead costs. The conflict of economic interests of colleges and universities on the one hand and the professional interests of their faculty on the other hand has also narrowed the scope of the definition of tenure as well as the range of protections that faculty tenure involves.

Another, more recent example of the study of deinstitutionalization is Ruef’s

(2004) examination of the disappearance of the Southern plantations in the U.S. between

1860 and 1880. Ruef shows that, contrary to mainstream views, the Civil War had a limited effect on the demise of the archetypal Southern plantation. The conflict of interests among the plantation owners, the newly emerging labor organizations, and mid- size farms had a more important influence. The activities of the latter two groups helped

redefine the primary form of agricultural organization of the era. The emergent discourse

also helped the laborers in the plantations adopt a new, more equitable understanding of

incentive structures in agricultural work, which rapidly diffused through their social

248 networks. As a result, the political and economic clout of the traditional plantation owners was considerably reduced and the traditional plantation declined.

4.2.3. Most recent developments

Although it started out as largely a theory of stability and compliance, the new institutionalism in organizational sociology has effectively expanded its scope in the last two decades to account for politics and change. As a matter of fact, prominent institutionalists have focused increasingly on episodes of “institutional change,” which address broader processes that involve both the rise and the demise of various organizational forms and associated discourses. Scott et al.’s (2000) acclaimed study of such patterns in the medical service field in San Francisco’s Bay Area during the second half of the 20th century, and Haveman and Rao’s (1997) study of the co-evolution of discourses and related organizational forms in the California thrift industry between 1890 and 1928 are important examples.

In recent years, institutionalists have also collaborated with social movement scholars to better explain institutional change. “There is little question” (McAdam and

Scott 2005) point out, “that two of the most active and creative arenas of scholarly activity in the social sciences during the past four decades have been organizational studies … and social movement analysis …” (p. 4). While insights from organization theory on the structure, design, effectiveness, and the environment of organizations are of significant use for movement scholars interested in the development and success of social movement organizations (SMOs) and entire movement fields (i.e., inter-organizational movement networks), organization theory—especially the new institutionalism—stand to

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gain a great deal from movement scholars’ notions of opportunity structure and

interpretive frame. The former notion has already been picked up by some of the leading

institutionalists, although in a limited sense, while the latter remains largely

underutilized.

Opportunity structure has to do with the opening and closing of “political space” for the expression of collective grievances and associated demands (Gamson and Meyer

1996). Since the expansion of political opportunity is likely to render manifest the

conflicts of interests that otherwise remain latent, institutionalists have begun to explicitly

refer to the notion of opportunity structure in their accounts of politics involved in the

creation and deinstitutionalization of organizational forms (e.g., Rao, Morril, and Zald

2000; Armstrong 2005; Davis and Zald 2005; McAdam and Scott 2005; Greve, Pozner,

and Rao 2006; Haveman, Rao, and Paruchuri 2007). The common theme is that the

expansion of opportunity enables previously inferior, dormant, or even non-existing actors to gain influence and thus become capable agents. These agents then push for their preferred organizational forms and hinder other alternatives, and, at the same time,

promulgate discourses that rationalize their own interests. As such, the notion of

opportunity structure has put a sound theoretical face on the structure of the contentious

processes that the typical institutionalist has, until recently, had to explain in exclusive reference to context-specific features of the agents and the relationships involved.

However, institutionalists have yet to apply the notion of opportunity structure in reverse gear. That is, they have so far not considered the politics concerning the restriction, as opposed to the expansion, of political opportunity. By focusing on issues of legitimation under conditions of restricted opportunity for manifest conflict, the new

250 institutionalism can lend critical insights into how potentially contestable institutions are maintained without much overt struggle. Which agents in a given context remain deprived of the chance to openly voice and pursue their interests as a result of the exercise of power? And, which organizational forms retain their taken for granted status as a result of this?

The second important concept available from social movement research, namely the notion of interpretive frame, can bolster the ability of institutionalists to identify and measure discourses that legitimize (and delegitimize) organizational forms. That, after all, has been the foundational interest for institutionalists, given their definition of legitimacy as cognitive taken for grantedness or uncontestedness. The notion of interpretive frame is an effective tool in conceptualizing and operationalizing the discursive dynamics associated with the politics of both change and stability in unfair relationships. Movement scholars view frames as constitutive components of discourses

(e.g., Snow et al. 1986; Gamson 1992, 1995; Ferree et al. 2002). An interpretive frame is a cognitive template which enables actors to “selectively locate, perceive, and label occurrences in their environment” (Goffman 1974:21). Frames define “what is going on”

(and “what is not going on”) in a situation by highlighting certain aspects of that situation and ignoring others. In Entman’s (1993) words, to frame is to

select some aspects of a perceived reality and make them more salient in communication, in such a way as to promote a particular problem definition, causal interpretation, moral evaluation, and/or treatment recommendation for the item described. (p. 52)

Research on movements indicates that successful change is in part contingent upon the effective re-framing of social reality when there is sufficient opportunity to do so. McAdam (1982) calls this “cognitive revolution.” SMOs and other activists who

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fight against unfairness must convey messages that frame the status quo as unjust, knock

down the legitimacy of discriminatory practices that perpetuate the status quo, propose

feasible alternative practices as objects of political interest for those who stand to gain

from the change, convince the oppressed that change is not only desirable, but also

possible, and finally, characterize the dominant agents who benefit from the prevailing

practices as the adversary (McAdam 1982; Snow et al. 1986; Gamson 1992, 1995).

Examining this type of interpretive framing is critical from an institutionalist standpoint because such change-encouraging frames, or what movement scholars refer to as collective action frames, denote the properties of the entire sociology of knowledge that go along with the institutional change necessary for restoring fairness in unfair relationships. A prime example of this type of change episode is the replacement of segregated neighborhood schools with racially integrated ones in urban areas during the

1970s and much of the 1980s.

By contrast, discursive patterns associated with the politics of stability in an unfair relationship involve interpretive frames that portray the status quo as essentially equitable, construe discriminatory practices as appropriate, if not beneficial, define radical alternatives as detrimental or unnecessary (if they are considered at all), and describe the parties to the unfair relationship as members of a harmonious and undivided

community rather than adversaries with conflicting interests (Gamson 1992, 1995; Adair

1996; Klandermans and Goslinga 1996). Such change-discouraging frames, or what movement scholars broadly refer to as conservative frames, typically permeate discourses

where there is little or no political opportunity to challenge discriminatory organizational

forms that reproduce unfair inequality. In other words, they comprise the sociology of

252 knowledge associated with the maintenance of institutions that are otherwise prone to being openly challenged. A good example is the discourse that has accompanied the return and subsequent maintenance of segregated neighborhood schools in urban areas from the early 1990s and on.

Institutionalists have not fully utilized the notion of interpretive frame primarily because they have retained a rather narrow view of discourse, examining only whether a given organizational form is mentioned or implicitly included in a prevailing discourse, while ignoring the other relevant aspects of the discourse, such as those identified by movement scholars. Berger and Luckmann (1966) had noted that social practices “must be legitimated by ‘placement’ in a symbolic universe’ (p. 104, italics are added). That universe, in its simplest sense, is the discourse or the broader sociology of knowledge that renders the practice in question meaningful. In other words, the practice acquires a certain meaning only in connection with the other meaningful objects in the discourse.

What an organizational form means and whether it is socially appropriate or not must, at the very least, be specified by defining the identities of the actors associated with that form, the features of the resources involved, the properties of the relationships that the form contributes to, and the kinds of social actions and objectives the form implies, as well as the difference of that from other ones, if any. Thus, to be true to their calling, institutionalists interested in the legitimacy of a particular organizational form must capture the discourse in which the form is embedded in its totality.43

While the notion of interpretive frame could bring rigor to the analysis of discourses that go along with institutional change, it has special significance for the

43 Only Mohr’s work (e.g., Mohr 1994; Mohr and Duquenne 1997) comes close to doing this. See above.

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analysis of the political nature of discourses associated with institutional maintenance.

Basically, it can help determine whether unfair inequality is cloaked by means of a false

discourse comprised of conservative frames, and whether these frames help keep

discriminatory organizational forms taken for granted. Relevant questions include can be

formulated in light of movement scholars’ insights on conservative frames: Does the

discourse portray the unfair status quo as fair? Who, if anyone, is held responsible for

inequality? Why? Are discriminatory organizational forms misrepresented as equitable

and effective? Are those whose interests are hurt encouraged to comply with

discriminatory organizational forms? Are the groups who are parties to the unfair relationship misconstrued as members of a socially integrated community?

For example, as described in detail in chapter 3, the return and the subsequent reproduction of the neighborhood schools in urban public education has not simply involved the active fostering of views about the benefits of “separate but equal.” It has also involved distorting conversations about inconsequential reform efforts, such as school choice, governance reform, funding equity, teacher qualification, and standards and accountability, all of which have been critical in rendering segregated neighborhood schools uncontested and in cloaking the true nature of urban educational inequality. Most debates concerning these reforms consider the failure of poor black children as a function of the lack of innate talent and motivation on the part of these children and their parents, without due regard to the origins and nature of non-school problems. The black poor are often blamed for their own plight and are encouraged to comply with the concept of the neighborhood school. They are also encouraged to rely on their personal capacities in order to achieve upward mobility within the parameters of the status quo—“Work

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harder!” “Utilize school choice, if necessary!” Administrative problems, such as

incompetent leadership and bureaucratic efficiency, are exaggerated as key culprits in

urban educational inequality. And, reform efforts in the schools are limited to fixing or augmenting the neighborhood schools by means of incremental efforts, rather than wholly replacing them with racially integrated schools.

All the while, the origins and the extent of non-school problems are disregarded, and the neighborhood schools are considered appropriate. They are treated as if they could be made capable of counteracting the non-school problems of poor black children so as to level the playing field in the American class hierarchy. It is therefore simply untenable to explain the taken for grantedness of the neighborhood school concept without sufficient reference to the complex properties of the associated sociology of knowledge. In other words, the pattern of latent conflict underlying the contemporary meaning of the neighborhood school concept could be exposed only in light of the meaning of other cognitive elements in the broader discourse.

Institutionalism can accomplish this by recognizing the role of restricted political opportunity in the maintenance of institutions that perpetuate unfair relationships, and by exposing the false discourse that has gained prevalence in regards to urban public education. To that end, the new institutionalism’s implicit view of power and its customary level of analysis must be extended.

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4.3. BROADENING THE THEORETICAL REACH OF THE NEW

INSTITUTIONALISM IN ORGANIZATIONAL SOCIOLOGY

Virtually all the institutionalist studies addressing politics and change have focused on manifest conflict, a process where agents with opposing interests engage in visible activities that one can observe, measure, and interpret as unequivocally contentious.

Manifest conflict typically accompanies the creation and deinstitutionalization of organizational forms. It may also be involved in institutional maintenance, such as when powerful agents have no option but to work diligently to ensure stability. However, there may be times when institutional maintenance includes no manifest conflict at all. In an unfair relationship, the dominant party may restrict the opportunity for manifest conflict to such an extent that discriminatory organizational forms may remain uncontested despite their ill effects on the subordinate party. Under such conditions, a false discourse would legitimize the discriminatory organizational forms and help protect the interests of the dominant party. This type of politics is just as common as are other, more openly observable types of politics, if not more.

To date, no institutional study has treated the absence of manifest conflict as the ultimate sign of politics. This is because, despite its social constructionist foundations, institutionalism ascribes to a behaviorist conception of power, treating the prevalence of open controversy as a necessary condition for studying politics. The new institutionalism’s view of politics derives from functionalist (or pluralist) (Dahl 1961;

Polsby 1963; Parsons 1967) and rationalist44 (Weber 1949; Coleman 1974; Tullock 1976) interpretations of power, both of which treat the absence of manifest conflict as harmony.

Both functionalism and rationalism consider politics as consisting of “observable

44 The term “rationalist” is used to mean bureaucratic and economic (utilitarian).

256 contentions” and thus focus on behavior that has to do with the resolution of openly discussed issues over which there is manifest conflict of explicitly articulated interests

(Lukes 1974; Gaventa 1980). With such a conception of politics, latent conflict could neither be located, nor examined.

4.3.1. The “third face” of power and the study of latent conflict

If non-contention characterizes a hierarchical relationship, then how can one claim that there is politics in that relationship in the first place? This question cannot be effectively addressed without a historical account of the relationship, such as in chapters

2 and 3 regarding unfair educational inequality in the U.S. Although that account elucidates on the ways in which the agency—that is, the actions, inactions, and choices— of the dominant group has restricted the opportunity for manifest conflict, there remain three important issues that require further clarification in any inquiry into power (Gallie

1956). These are particularly important issues for incorporating a non-behaviorist view of power into the new institutionalism in organizational sociology.

The first one has to do with the problem of structural determinism. Was unfair inequality inevitable due to the ways in which systemic forces that no actor had control over (e.g., the capitalist economy, the pattern of urban sprawl, or the regime of representative democracy) shaped the agency of both the dominant and subordinate group? Particularly, was there any room for the dominant group’s agency in the first place? Could that group have chosen to act differently? The second issue, which is closely related to the first, is about responsibility. If structural determinism was not at play, then what are the proper criteria for holding the dominant group responsible for the

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quiescence of the subordinate group? And, the third issue is about the distinction

between subjective (perceived) and objective (real) interests. If the interests of the subordinate group currently remain subverted, such that the group is unable to express and/or realize its interests, or perhaps pursue the “wrong” interests, then how can one identify the real interests of this group? Most importantly, how can a researcher do that without reading his or her own interests into the situation?

In his seminal work, Power: A Radical View, Steven Lukes (1974, 2005) resolves all three problems adequately. According to Lukes, there are three basic ways of studying power. Each one assumes a distinct definition of power. The most common approach is to address contentious instances of decision- or policy-making with regard to controversial issues, and identify the participants who pursue their respective interests.

Next, it is important to determine who gains and who loses in the process. This approach, Lukes argues, captures only the “first face” of power, the one which is the easiest to observe and analyze. It is consistent with the widely shared scholarly and public assumptions about how politics unfolds in a pluralist democracy (Alford and

Friedland 1985).

The second approach calls for special attention to how the dominant party shapes the official mechanisms of decision- and policy-making, such that certain issues never gain access to formal arenas in the first place. This is the “second face” of power.

Although the contending parties are well aware of their respective interests, the subordinate party may be unable to use relevant bureaucratic and inter-organizational structures (e.g., the Congress or the courts) to freely pursue its interests. As a result, certain matters remain what Bachrach and Baratz (1970) call “non-issues.” Under such

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conditions, inquiry into power must document the actions of the dominant party to

manipulate the “official agenda” in formal arenas as well as in society at large. It must

also capture the failure of the subordinate party in gaining access to formal arenas and

raising issues that it considers important.

Lukes notes that, although the second approach is more probing than the first, both approaches are behaviorist because they focus on manifest conflict. There is a

“third face” of power, he argues, which entails neither overt struggle, nor the expression of conflicting interests. “A may exercise power over B [not only] by getting to do what

he does not want to do, but also … by influencing, shaping, or determining his very

wants” (p. 23). Therefore, when inquiry into the politics of institutional maintenance

uncovers no grievances on the part of the subordinate party regarding the prevailing

organizational forms, the third face of power may be in effect:

Is it not the supreme and most insidious exercise of power to prevent people, to whatever degree, from having grievances by shaping their perceptions, cognitions and preferences in such a way that they accept their role in the existing order of things, either because they can see or imagine no alternative to it, or because they see it as natural and unchangeable, or because they value it as divinely ordained and beneficial? (Lukes 1974, p. 24, italics are added).

It is important to note that Lukes’ description leaves room for interpreting

subordinate group quiescence as both a result of rational conformity (“they can see or

imagine no alternative to it”) and ideological indoctrination (“they see it as natural and

unchangeable,… divinely ordained and beneficial”).45 In this regard, his account is

similar to the position of the new institutionalists for whom the ultimate basis of

quiescence is a peripheral issue as long as organizational forms remain uncontested.

45 This conceptual flexibility often goes unnoticed by power researchers, who commonly treat Lukes’ approach as a means to capture the dynamics of ideological indoctrination (see Clegg 1989 for a review).

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Indeed, Lukes posits the concept of false consensus as an alternative to the loaded term,

“false consciousness,” in order to stress his point that quiescence may be due to

pragmatic acceptance by the subordinate group as well as a genuine embrace of the unfair

status quo by this group. Which pattern is prevalent is ultimately irrelevant as long as

subordinate group interests remain subverted and thus out of view.

The problem of structural determinism

Marx had argued that,

Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves, but under circumstances directly found, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living. (quoted in Tucker 1978, p. 595, italics are original)

Lukes takes seriously the simultaneous account of agency and structure in Marx’s view. For him, the immutability of structural conditions varies across groups. Although structures are inherently constraining for everyone, the range of choices for some agents is typically wider than that for others. Consistent with the underpinnings of movement scholars’ notion of political opportunity structure, Lukes (1977) argues that agency consists in “a set of expanding and contracting abilities, expanding and contracting opportunities” (p. 29). More importantly, power gains moral and analytical significance when dominant agents have a choice in reproducing—which also implies the choice to not reproduce—the structural arrangements detrimental to the interests of subordinate agents. When such choice is not present, which is certainly possible but rare, talk of

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power is untenable: “within a system of total structural determinism, there would be no place for power” (Lukes 1974, p. 54-5).46

The “third face” of power pertains only to those situations where the agency of

the dominant group has been the primary factor that has resulted in the reproduction of structural conditions that hinder the subordinate group’s capacity to voice its interests—

situations where the subordinate group could have enjoyed greater opportunity to demand

change had the dominant group chosen to act differently. There is a “duality of structure”

(Giddens 1979, 1984) in such situations, because structure enables one party to engage in

agency, which in turn constrains the other party. In other words, one man’s agency is

another man’s structure. An agent, Giddens (1979) points out, who has no choice is not

a complete agent and therefore cannot exercise power:

Power in social theory … is centrally involved with human agency; a person or party who wields power could have acted otherwise, and the person or party over whom power is wielded … would have acted otherwise if power had not been exercised. (p. 91, italics are original)

Can the institutionalized status of segregated neighborhood schools and, more

broadly, the lack of a challenge against unfair educational inequality for poor black children be characterized as an outcome of structural determinism? Did the predominantly white affluent have the choice to act differently? An historical assessment

of the trajectory of class dynamics surrounding school desegregation strongly suggests that the dominant group did have considerable choice. It could have chosen to continue to support desegregation and the War on Poverty; it could have chosen not to support

46 Drawing on Mills’ (1956) discussion, Lukes (1974, p. 56) defines as “fate” those occasions where agents are deprived of any choice. Such occasions are characterized by a total lack of control over events by groups that are (1) compact enough to be identifiable, (2) powerful enough to make a difference, and (3) in a position to foresee the consequences of and so to be held responsible for events. See Betts (1986) for further elaboration of the sociological notion of fate, although her discussion at certain points suffers from her equating the notions of fate and unintentional consequences.

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leaders and law makers who were unfriendly to civil rights; the President, the Congress,

the Senate, and the Supreme Court could have chosen to support the search for and

implementation of policies that equalized education in the long run; affluent families

could have chosen not to resist school desegregation, to not leave urban areas, and to

support desegregation and other policies even if they had to leave urban areas for

suburban neighborhoods, rather than remain indifferent and exhibit perpetual inaction.

The dominant group had choice because its range of agency was never subject to

physical, jurisdictional, or material barriers. The only problem was the degree to which

the dominant group was willing to sacrifice its class privileges in light of the shared

ideals of fairness and equal opportunity in the American class hierarchy. Its failure to

make the necessary sacrifice is ultimately what led to the restriction of political

opportunity for poor blacks to voice their educational interests. As a result, the concept

of the neighborhood school, which was once fiercely contested, has once again become

an institution.

The problem of responsibility

“Actor designation” is one of the most problematic elements in any power analysis, particularly when the exercise of power involves collective-level agency, such as in the case of social classes (Frey 1985). The problem arises from the inevitable moral implications of attributing responsibility for the consequences of power (Connolly 1974).

According to Lukes (1974, 1977), A can be said to exercise power over B when: (1) A intentionally acts or fails to act in certain ways which result in the restriction of opportunity for B to openly express and pursue its interests, or (2) A, through its actions

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or inactions, unintentionally subverts B’s interests while remaining aware of, or if not

aware, then capable of becoming aware of, the consequences for B.

While intentionality has obvious implications for the study of power,

unintentionality is inherently problematic. How can the dominant party in an unfair

relationship be held responsible for exercising power when its agency happens to be unintentional? In a sound analysis of power involved in latent conflict, unintentionality

warrants accountability only under specific conditions.

First, it is necessary to clarify the potential relevance of unintentionality to the

exercise of power. According to Connolly (1974), disregard for ununtentionality is a common bias only in behaviorist approaches to power. “Intentionality,” he argues, “is not a necessary condition of responsibility … [because] … there are cases of negligence, even perhaps strict liability, where the agent is deemed responsible for an outcome even though it is not the outcome he intended” (p. 105). For example, if one drives under influence and gets in a car accident, causing his or her travel companion to die, then he or she is responsible for the death, though that was not the intended outcome.

Second, and more importantly, it is necessary to determine whether the agent in question had sufficient knowledge of the possible consequences of his actions, inactions, and choices regardless of his intentions. For instance, with regard to the example above, the essential criterion for responsibility has to do with whether the driver was aware of the laws and norms against endangering others by driving under influence. Lukes (1974) would argue that, if the answer is yes, then unintentionality does not negate responsibility for the eventual outcome. He also argues that the dominant party may be held responsible for exercising power in an unfair relationship even when it had no knowledge

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of the possible effects of his agency on the subordinate party, as long as it had the

capacity to find out:

Can A properly be said to exercise power over B where knowledge of the effects of A upon B is just not available to A? If A’s ignorance of [or indifference to] those effects is due to his remediable failure to find out, the answer appears to be yes. Where, however, he could not have found out—because, say, certain factual or technical knowledge was simply not available—then talk of an exercise of power appears to lose all its point. (p. 51, italics are original)

Did the predominantly white affluent have sufficient knowledge and awareness of

the consequences of its actions, inactions, and choices on the opportunity for poor blacks

to voice their interests in equal education? The pattern of events in the last four decades

regarding school desegregation suggests that they did. Given how controversial the racial

struggle for equality in the U.S. has been, it is simply implausible to assume that affluent families could not have predicted how their resistance, their voting patterns, and their residential preferences would eventually dampen the chances for poor blacks to demand full equality in education. Similarly, it is highly unlikely that the President, the Congress, the Senate, and the Supreme Court had no knowledge of how their policy choices would influence the controversy around educational inequality for poor black children. Even today, with little or no controversy around segregated neighborhood schools and other

aspects of unfair educational inequality (most notably, the non-school problems), there is

sufficient chance for anyone—be they an ordinary citizen, a policymaker, or a political

leader—to find out about how unequal urban public education has become, how it defies

the egalitarian ideals of American public education, and how the current conditions circumscribe the chances for voicing the interests of poor black children. Thus,

264 indifference, ignorance, or unintentionality cannot be attributed to irremediable unawareness or lack of knowledge.

The problem of real interests

The issue of real interests, as opposed perceived interests, poses a challenge to any researcher addressing latent conflict. In most cases, the real interests of the subordinate group are specified by reference to the structural position of this group

(Balbus 1971; Hindess 1986). This, after all, was what Marx’s had done. He argued that labor had an inherent interest, whether they realized it or not, in challenging the ownership class and in bringing about revolutionary change, because they were being taken advantage of. To this end, the critical task was to openly contest the institution of private property.

There are two significant problems with identifying subordinate group interests by reference to social structural abstractions. First, the researcher may impose his own view by selecting a theory of society that fits his values of justice and fairness. As a result, an inequality that appears unfair to one researcher may appear to be fair to another one who ascribes to a different worldview. As a result, the specification of interests would be inherently subject to moral relativism. Also, the risk of relying on the researcher’s worldview for identifying subordinate group interests involves “a deeply condescending conception of the social subject as an ideological dupe” whose judgments have little value (Hay 1997, p. 47-9).

The second problem is that inequality may actually be fair, regardless of how unfair it looks. For instance, members of the subordinate group may have inferior

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cultural or personal traits that hinder their progress, or they may prefer their subordinate

position despite any inherent inferiority. Social actors can engage in conduct that is ultimately detrimental to their wellbeing. Connolly (1974) gives the example of a drug addict or a smoker, who is likely to continue using drugs or smoking even when given a chance not to. Benton (1981) refers to this as the “emancipation paradox.”

Lukes argues that the real interests of the subordinate group may be determined with considerable objectively by means of referencing a relevant counterfactual, which is an occasion where the subordinate group enjoys greater opportunity to openly challenge inequality (Frey 1971; Gaventa 1980). The empirical availability of such an occasion not only justifies the assumption that the subordinate group would have acted differently were it not for the exercise of power, but also indicates what the subordinate group is likely to demand under conditions of expanded opportunity for manifest conflict. In other words, an episode involving the subordinate group’s own agency may be treated as the primary frame of reference to determine that group’s real interests.

The credibility of a relevant counterfactual can be verified on the basis of three criteria. First, there should be unequivocal evidence on the failed attempts of the subordinate group to bring about change (Crenson 1971; Lukes 1974; Gaventa 1980).

This would establish which interests the subordinate group is likely to vocalize under conditions of expanded opportunity. Second, the researcher should be able to determine that dominant group’s agency was the primary factor in the decline of the opportunity for the subordinate group to continue to vocalize its interests.

In brief, we [not only] need to justify our expectation that B would have thought and acted differently … [but also] need to specify the means or mechanisms by which A has prevented, or else acted (or abstained from

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acting) in a manner sufficient to prevent B from doing so (Lukes 1974, p. 41-42, italics are original).

The third and final criterion is the inconsistency between the interests expressed during the counterfactual episode and the content of the prevailing public discourse regarding inequality. This ultimately involves an element of circular reasoning. A past episode of manifest conflict may qualify as a relevant counterfactual if the current discourse on inequality contradicts or negates the subordinate group interests conveyed and openly pursued during that past episode.

Is racially integrated and equal education the real interest of poor black children?

Or are they better served by segregated neighborhood schools along with the incremental reforms that have gained popularity in recent decades? There could be little doubt that integrated and equal education is in the best interest of any child in the U.S. Even most of the fiercest critics of desegregation have acknowledged that (e.g., Glazer 1975; Armor

1995). Integrated and equal education is also deeply consistent with the egalitarian ideals of American public education. To extent that it was achieved, it brought urban public schools closer than ever to their mission leveling the playing field by counteracting severe non-school problems.

Most importantly, racially integrated and equal education was what poor blacks

publicly and unequivocally demanded under conditions of expanded opportunity for

manifest conflict. And, it was the actions, inactions, and choices of the predominantly

white affluent that gradually restricted the opportunity for manifest conflict. The

restriction of opportunity has been pivotal in the rise of a false discourse that has cloaked

the true nature of the inequality. Thus, although the segregated neighborhood school has remained uncontested for nearly two decades, openly challenging that organizational

267 form, along with other primary aspects of educational inequality (such as urban non- school problems), is the real interest of poor black children. As noted in the previous chapter, if the link between class position and schooling constitutes the Pandora’s Box in

American public education, then the neighborhood school is the lock on that box.

Questioning and publicly challenging that organizational form is the first step in confronting unfair educational inequality, the first step to tackle not only the problem of

“separate and unequal,” but also the effects of severe non-school problems that urban public schools continue to confront.

4.3.2. Moving from the organizational field to the class level of analysis

Adopting Lukes’ notion of the “third face” of power extends the view of politics in the new institutionalism to effectively address the legitimacy of organizational forms under conditions of latent conflict. Segregated neighborhood schools have remained institutionalized for nearly two decades, despite their adverse effects and their inability to counteract the non-school problems of poor black children. This is because the agency of the dominant group in American race relations has prevented any meaningful effort to address and resolve the extent of unfair educational inequality. Structural determinism had little, if any, effect on this process. There is and has always been sufficient knowledge and information available with regard to the ways in which the failure to sacrifice class privileges has constrained the scope of possible conversations about the problem, which means that dominant group bears a considerable degree of responsibility in the matter. This responsibility is further amplified when the uniquely American notion of public education as the “great equalizer” is taken into account. Furthermore, the

268 events in first two decades of the struggle for urban educational equality represent a reasonable counterfactual scenario for verifying the real interests of poor black children.

These interests include the not only the deinstitutionalization of the neighborhood school, but, by virtue of the same reasoning, a resolute, extensive, and long-term attack on severe non-school problems.

Therefore, a properly institutionalist account of quiescence with regard to urban public education should ask: Why is there no open controversy around the notion of the neighborhood school? Why is this organizational form not deinstitutionalized? As

Holm’s (1995) points out:

The more institutionalized forms will easily escape our attention because they remain taken for granted, but they are no less a part of the subject area of institutional analysis. The social practices that show themselves as technical, natural, and self-evident are the most heavily institutionalized and should therefore take center stage in institutional analysis. (p. 417)

Since the issue of cognitive legitimacy is at the core of the new institutionalism, the critical task is to uncover the ways in which the neighborhood school remains legitimated by a false discourse. When the new institutionalism in organizational sociology was criticized for failing to account for politics and change in institutional processes, the common response was to focus on the variation in the compliance patterns of individual organizations to institutional pressures as well as field-level struggles to create, maintain, and destroy organizational forms. In the process, institutionalists lost sight of the political implications of their original notion of legitimacy as cognitive taken for grantedness. If an organizational form was taken for granted, which meant, the majority of actors in the relevant context complied with the form, then there could be no conflict worth studying. In a sense, taken for grantedness was treated as an inherently

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apolitical concept. Conversely, it is an asset for the new institutionalism to account for

politics involving the exercise of preventative power resulting in latent conflict: Why does

an organizational form that should not be taken for granted nonetheless remain taken for

granted? No other theoretical approach in organizational sociology can pose such a question, which is critical with regard to segregated neighborhood schools in urban

school districts. However, exposing the false discourse that legitimates the concept of the

neighborhood school requires a level of analysis higher than that prevalent in the new

institutionalism; level of organizational field must be abandoned in favor of the class

level of analysis. There are two basic reasons for this. One is that the basic parties to the

latent conflict around urban educational inequality are social classes, whose interests are

not fully disclosed at the organizational field level of analysis. Another, related problem

is that the discursive patterns in latent conflict in class relations could be best understood

in reference to the class interests, not the interests of organizations or the interests that

gain visibility in the elite activities in inter-organizational networks.

Organizations vs. classes

The socio-political composition of social classes is unique in that classes are

large-scale collectivities who have certain group-level interests that cannot be fully

understood and identified with exclusive reference to organizational and inter-

organizational dynamics.

Macro organization theorists typically view society as a context of inter-

organizational dependence, conflict, and competition (Alford and Friedland 1985; Scott

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1992b),47 and thus consider class interests only to the extent that those interests are reflected in the manifest activity and missions of particular organizations, such as the state, professional or industry associations, large corporations, advocacy and special interest groups, educational establishments, and various other organizations that could exert influence in society. DiMaggio and Powell’s (1983) notion of the organizational field derives directly from the paradigmatic tendency in organization studies to view the social terrain as inter-organizational network.

Such a view predisposes the institutionalists who set out to explain politics to focus largely on the agency and compliance behavior of visibly interacting organizations; they often observe how coercive, normative, and mimetic mechanisms among organizations transpire. In some cases, this would be sufficient to capture certain aspects of the conflict of class interests, such as pertaining to urban school desegregation between the mid-1960s and late 1980s. In that period, key SMOs such as the NAACP openly voiced the class interests of poor black children. Various other organizational actors, such as countermovement organizations (e.g., National Association of Neighborhood

Schools), the federal government, the courts, and several state agencies were actively involved in the process as well. After all, inter-organizational networks in the policy domain always have links to the pattern of power, privilege, and interest in the broader class hierarchy (Benson 1975, 1977; Alford and Friedland 1985). Yet, much of the contentious inter-organizational activity regarding urban school desegregation has died out since the early 1990s. This was brought on by the restriction of political opportunity

47 This view ultimately originates from the sociology of Weber, where organizations are treated as instruments of power for the elite, who use bureaucratic structures and networks to dominate the non-elite as well as one another. Who exercises power in society is largely a function of elite strategies for controlling organizational resources and jurisdictions in order to shape the activities of members, clients, opponents, and supporters (Weber 1949; Mills 1956; Pfeffer and Salancik 1978; Morgan 1986).

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for manifest conflict. The central question, then, is: What if those organizations that are

likely to voice the interests of the subordinate group in a class hierarchy are not capable

of or simply refrain from doing so due to the lack of sufficient opportunity for sustained

controversy and change? Likewise, what if such organizations (e.g., SMOs, state agencies, or advocacy groups) choose to pursue sub-optimal interests for the subordinate

group because pursuing greater interests has been precluded by class dynamics?

Furthermore, what if these organizations do not exist in the first place? None of these

could be taken to mean that the subordinate group does not have an interest in

challenging the status quo and demanding change.

Also, class dynamics may involve certain types of agency that are inherently non-

organizational or supra-organizational. In the case of urban educational inequality in the

U.S., non-organizational types of agency include the voting patterns or the residential

preferences of the predominantly white affluent families. The subsequent indifference or

ignorance of the majority of these families to the plight of poor black children was an important element of agency as well. In other words, inaction at the collective level is

also a type of non-organizational agency which has contributed to the restriction of the

opportunity structure. Essentially, class interests are not always accessible through the

organizational field level of analysis, particularly under conditions of latent conflict.

Finally, the organizational field level of analysis should be abandoned because the

pattern of compliance to institutionalized organizational forms cannot be attributed to

individual organizations or sets of organizations. Since Meyer and Rowan’s (1977)

original discussion, most institutionalist studies have conceptualized those parties who

adopt and comply with various organizational forms and practices as organizations. In

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the case of segregated neighborhood schools, the complying party does not involve an

organization; it is neither the district, nor school board, or the particular school building,

but poor black children and their families. It is this group, whether its members currently

view themselves as a class or not, who comply with the organizational form in question.

It is also this group that the false discourse which cloaks the true nature of inequality

discourages regarding collective action and change.

Discursive patterns at the class level of analysis

Discursive patterns regarding inequality in the class hierarchy have a distinct character that is plausible only at the class level of analysis, not the organizational field level of analysis. These patterns can be specified in reference to two logics that permeate social relations in all modern class societies, namely the logic of private wellbeing and the logic of public wellbeing.

The logic of private wellbeing involves values, beliefs, and assumptions emphasizing the primacy of the accumulation of individual advantage, and is thus an enduring force that generates inequality. By contrast, the logic of public wellbeing orients actors for the pursuit of collective or common interests, resulting in various degrees of equality. As John Rawls (1993) points out, “a well ordered society is constituted by a plurality of reasonable yet incompatible comprehensive doctrines” (p. xvi-xvii). As far as class relations are concerned, the relative balance or contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing determines the degree of fairness in the prevailing disparities (McClosky and Zaller 1984; Turner 1986; Hellsten 2001).

When the logic of private wellbeing is allowed to severely overwhelm the logic of public

273 wellbeing, certain practices may become institutionalized that limit the life chances of those in lower levels of the class hierarchy—practices, such as the split labor market or inferior public schools. These practices protect the individual interests of those belonging to the dominant groups in the class hierarchy and hinder the interests of those who are members of the subordinate groups. Under such circumstances, the contradiction between the two logics must be unveiled and the harmony between them re- established to the best extent possible by replacing discriminatory practices with remedial ones.

Discourses have special significance with regard to interaction of the logics of public and private wellbeing. In a seminal essay on the semiotics of social problems, the noted political scientist Murray Edelman (1977) illustrate that, in modern class societies, there are broadly two types of contrasting discourses on inequality. These two discourses denote different modalities of the relationship between the logics of public and private wellbeing. One discourse points to the harmony between the two logics. It depicts the class hierarchy as essential fair, sanctions the pursuit of individual interests, emphasizes the importance of personal capacities for success, and legitimates the existing practices that affect life chances in the class hierarchy. In essence, it suggests that the competition for advantage is compatible with the enduring imperatives for common equality. This is the ordinary (i.e. default) discourse, according to which the individual’s location in the class hierarchy is largely a function of his or her innate talent and motivation. The opposite discourse conveys the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing and asserts that mobility is a function of class location, rather than individual talent and motivation. In particular, the life chances of subordinate groups are impaired

274 by a pattern of domination. This is the critical (i.e., dissenting) discourse, which depicts the class hierarchy as unfair and calls for the replacement of institutionalized practices that perpetuate the unfairness with those that can restore fairness in the class hierarchy.

The ordinary and critical discourses comprise alternative interpretations of stratification. Although they permanently coexist in the modern cultural stock, they are seldom equally accentuated. The ordinary discourse is the language of “social integration” and typically remains salient, while the critical discourse is the language of

“controversy and protest,” and often remains dormant (Edelman 1977). The critical discourse on inequality is presumed to gain salience as a result of significant societal failures to harmonize the logics of public and private wellbeing. It is the symbolic medium through which the underprivileged and the oppressed can express their class interests.

However, the relationship between the true nature of inequality on the one hand and the associated discourse on the other is often mediated by power. Since manifest conflict in an unfair situation is contingent upon the extent of political opportunity, what happens under conditions of restricted opportunity is that the ordinary discourse prevails despite the unfairness. In other words, the ordinary discourse functions a false discourse that conceals the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing and cloaks the truth about the status quo. This, in turn, gives way to an inauthentic conversation that helps keep key practices that perpetuate unequal life chances legitimate.

The idea that social inequality lends itself to inconsistent interpretations due to the availability of contrasting but equally valid discourses is an important insight consistent with recent perspectives in the sociology of culture. Culture theorists have argued that

275 differentiated societies consist of a nebulous set of multiple realities (discourses) on any given issue (Douglas 1986; Swidler 1986; Friedland and Alford 1991; Sewell 1992;

DiMaggio 1997). As Swidler (1986) points out,

all cultures contain diverse, often conflicting symbols, rituals, stories, and guides of action [and interpretation]. The readers of the Bible can find a passage to justify almost any act, and traditional wisdom usually comes in paired adages counseling opposite behaviors. A culture is not a unified system that pushes action and judgment in a consistent direction. Rather, it is more like a “tool kit” or repertoire (Hannerz 1969: 186-88) from which actors select differing pieces for constructing lines of action. Both individuals and groups know how to do different kinds of things in different circumstances…. People may have in readiness cultural capacities they rarely employ; and all people know more culture than they use. (p. 277).48

DiMaggio (1997) offers a similar view in simpler language where he describes culture as “a grab-bag of odds and ends: a pastiche of mediated representations, a repertoire of techniques, or a tool kit of strategies” (p. 267). Different elements in the grab-bag are “situationally cued” by particular events, information bits, objects and circumstances. The diversity of elements in the grab-bag ensures the ultimate availability of cultural material to facilitate the conception and pursuit of conflicting interests by different actors.

The diversity of discourses available for interpreting inequality is intertwined with power because latent conflict involves the restriction of political opportunity so as to keep the critical discourse from gaining sufficient salience under conditions of unfair inequality, a process that sustains the exclusive dominance of the ordinary discourse in the public domain when in fact the salience of the critical discourse is warranted. Thus, the opportunity to deploy a particular discourse is more important that the inherent validity of that discourse.

48 Italics are added.

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To date, the most significant analytical progress regarding discourses on inequality in the class hierarchy has been made in social movement research. The notion of interpretative frame is of central importance. As discussed earlier, movement scholars’ notion of interpretive frames has special relevance for the new institutionalism as well because it can bolster the ability of institutionalists to identify and measure discourses that legitimize (and deligitimize) various organizational form. In this respect, the notion of interpretive frames poses a unique opportunity for an institutionalist account for discourses at the class level of analysis.

Movement scholars had originally posited the notions of collective action frames and conservative frames to put a more analytical face on alternative discourses on class inequality. If the discourses are the tools in the cultural toolkit of a modern society, then the interpretive frames are the nuts and bolts or the constitutive components of these

discourses. Therefore, they are also the “symbolic” means for invoking and reinforcing alternative realities regarding inequality. The critical discourse is comprised of three basic collective action frames: injustice, agency, and identity (Gamson 1992, 1995).

These frames have received particular attention from movement scholars, given the preoccupation in movement research to study and explain the rise of manifest conflict.

• The injustice frame evaluates a situation as unfair. It involves “moral indignation expressed in the form of political consciousness” (Gamson 1995:90). This frame does not elicit a merely intellectual judgment about what is equitable, but a ‘hot cognition’ (Zajonc 1980), one that is laden with emotion, predominantly anger. It contains a ‘dissenting diagnosis’ (Snow and Benford 1988, 1992) of class relations where discriminatory practices give rise to or sustain unequal conditions which in turn constrain the life chances of the subordinate class. More importantly, the injustice frame identifies specific actors or groups to get angry at. It holds the dominant groups in the class hierarchy and/or the agents of these groups—such as the state, elite interest groups, or “big business”—responsible for bringing about harm and suffering.

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• The agency frame promotes the idea that it is possible to alter the pattern of inequality by means of collective action. This is critical in two respects. First, it implies a sense of collective efficacy which denies the immutability of the status quo (Gamson 1992, 1995). It treats the subordinate group as the master of its own affairs, the maker of its own history. The rebellious activity of SMOs and other activists in the public domain and official policy arenas resonate with similar sentiments in the private sphere of individuals and foster the confidence critical for sympathizing with or even actively participating in the movement. The second key element of the agency frame is its “reformist prognosis” (Snow and Benford 1988, 1992) where particular remedial practices are proposed as alternatives to discriminatory ones. Simply put, the agency frame not only involves optimism about change but also identifies what the plausible solution to unfairness is.

• The identity frame nurtures a sense of “we” among the victims of unfairness, typically in opposition to some “they,” the wrongdoers (Melucci 1989, 1995). This is also referred to as the adversarial frame (Gamson 1992) because the cleavage between the dominant and subordinate groups is openly expressed. The situation of inequality is defined with a clear “us v. them” component. To use Marx’s original terms, the identity frame is critical for the subordinate class to change from a “class in itself” to a “class for itself.”

Although each of the three collective action frames can be used in its own right, it insinuates the other two. Nevertheless, Gamson (1992) argues that the injustice frame facilitates the agency and identity frames in significant ways. “The injustice frame,” he writes, “makes the injured party collective, not individual” (p. 112). What one has suffered personally is shared by some implied we. Moreover, “[i]f an unfair situation is regarded as immutable, it is not likely to lead to moral indignation; the injustice frame implies the possibility of change” (p. 113). Indignation exerts a push toward action and predisposes a sympathetic response to activists and supporters who attempt it. When class inequality is interpreted by means of injustice, agency and identity frames, the critical discourse gains full salience. The contradiction between the logics of public and

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private wellbeing becomes visible and the interests of the subordinate group in replacing discriminatory practices with remedial ones are openly expressed.

Collective action framing is an inherently uphill battle because frames are likely to be confronted by the three opposite frames constituting the ordinary discourse

(Gamson 1992; Snow and Benford 1992; Zald 1996): justice, conformity, and commonality. When misused, each of these frames has an immobilizing effect in that it

discourages warranted discursive struggles and subsequent open conflicts.

• The justice frame evaluates a situation as fair. It involves a favorable diagnosis of class relations and treats both success and failure in the hierarchy as outcomes of talent and motivation. It is also capable of acknowledging imperfections in fairness which may result in undeserved hardship for some members of society. Such situations are often caused either by abstract, actorless forces (e.g., “bad economy,” “globalization,” “human nature,” “evils of bureaucracy,” “societal complexity”) or by incompetent, or dishonest individuals and organizations (e.g., “bad president,” “ineffective congress”) (Gamson 1992, 1995). There is thus either no one to blame or someone who can be condemned for only isolated cases of administrative ineffectiveness or misconduct. In rare cases, internal opponents (e.g., disruptive or exploitative social groups) or external enemies (e.g., other societies) may be blamed for undeserved hardship (Gamson 1995). In any case, unfairness is not part of a “trend” brought about by the agency of the dominant groups in the class hierarchy. Disappointment need not—or, if it needs to be, then it cannot—be channeled into anger toward such groups. Moreover, the justice frame treats unfairness as a limited and temporary exception to the rule, an exception whose extent is never enough to completely overwhelm individual talent and motivation for mobility. Help—for example, in the form of limited relief policies by the state and elite philanthropy—is always available for those who possess the traits necessary for success but have had bad luck. Those who fail to take advantage of the available help have only themselves to blame and may require discipline and punishment if they become disruptive.

• The conformity frame promotes the status quo and the key practices associated with it (Gamson 1992). It encourages everyone to thrive in the class hierarchy and make the best of the opportunities that are equally available to all (McAdam 1982; McAdam, McCarthy and Zald 1988). The hierarchy is defined with an emphasis on the facilitative role of existing practices associated with mobility (e.g., education, free

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enterprise). For those who experience undeserved hardship, the conformity frame prescribes adaptation—personal change in attitudes, goals, and ambitions so as to make effective use of the limited assistance available to overcome imperfections in equal opportunity. Such prescriptions may be combined with pessimistic views of change that discredit radical ideas for replacing existing societal practices.

• The commonality frame fosters a socially integrated view of the class hierarchy. Persons are often identified as actors in their own right or as fellow participants of a larger community, rather than members of particular classes (Gamson 1992, 1995). References to equal rights and privileges, similar benefits and hardships, and comparable risks and opportunities for everyone are typical elements of the commonality frame. Situations of inequality are rarely defined in reference to classes or class interests (Melucci 1989). As opposed to the adversarial, “us v. them” orientation of the identity frame, the emphasis here is on the virtues of the talented, self-reliant, and ambitious individual idealized by the liberal conception of fairness. Collectivities are often construed as (1) “aggregates of individuals” with similar life chances, or (2) culturally or demographically specific aggregates (e.g., ethnic minorities) that foster or hinder individual traits necessary for mobility. They are rarely defined as solidaric, purposeful groups with adversarial interests.

In an occasion of unfair inequality, justice, conformity, and commonality frames sustain the salience of the ordinary discourse in the false mode, resulting in the concealment of the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing and the subversion of subordinate group interests.

From an institutionalist standpoint, if potentially contested organizational forms remain cognitively taken for granted due to restricted opportunity for manifest conflict, then those forms are likely to be legitimated by the use of conservative frames comprising the ordinary discourse. This insight not only clarifies the role of power in shaping discursive patterns associated with the institutionalization of organizational forms, but has particular relevance for the domain of public education.

As discussed in the previous chapter, class interests regarding public education, not just in the U.S., but in any modern industrialized nation are eternally tied to the logics

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of public and private wellbeing. The public schools are designed to serve not only the

private interests of individual children and families, but also serve the public interest by

providing every child a reasonable prospect of success in the class hierarchy. The typical

public school is caught in between these two logics both conceptually and in terms of

function. At any given moment the majority of the affluent are likely to be oriented by

the logic of private wellbeing and regard the schools as instruments of personal advantage for their children, a means to transfer class advantages. Likewise, the majority of the poor are likely to be oriented by the logic of public wellbeing and desire schools that can help their children just as much as they help affluent children. In the U.S., the common ideal is to harmonize these two logics to best extent possible. When the degree of educational inequality in the class hierarchy reaches extreme levels, the logics of private and public wellbeing are at significant odds. However, as the experience with urban educational inequality demonstrates, the contradiction is not necessarily unveiled.

It remains concealed under conditions of restricted opportunity for manifest conflict. As a result, potentially contestable practices, such as the neighborhood school, could maintain their taken for granted status. Two key hypotheses are plausible in this regard:

Hypothesis 8.—In the post-1990 period, a. the ordinary discourse on inequality has been salient in the form of conservative frames, which have legitimized the concept of the neighborhood school. b. the critical discourse on inequality, which is comprised of collective action frames, has been dormant. If confirmed, these hypotheses would indicate how unfair inequality in American public education remains rationalized, regardless of whether the subordinate group in race relations believes in the ordinary discourse. Few, if any, actors—be they private citizens or public officials—openly acknowledge the role of power in the plight of poor

281 black children. In some respects, the current discourse may be as much about saving face for the affluent as about fostering quiescence among the urban poor. As Randall Collins

(1994) points out, class relations typically transpire “in terms of a code, which must always be translated [because] classes rarely sail under their true colors” (p. 67).

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CHAPTER 5

DATA AND METHODS

5.1. EMPIRICAL CONTEXT: UNFAIR EDUCATIONAL INEQUALITY IN THE

CITY OF CLEVELAND

5.1.1. An overview of the history of black children’s school and non-school problems

in Cleveland

Cleveland is a typical Northern industrial city with a significant proportion of

poor blacks surrounded by predominantly white affluent (i.e., working class and middle

class) suburban neighborhoods. It has one of the most segregated and one of the nation’s

worst performing public school systems, which currently serves about 65,000 students,

70 percent of whom are black, 20 percent are white, eight percent are Hispanic, and the

rest are other minorities. Much of its black population lives on the east side of Cuyahoga

River, which divides the city into two. Socioeconomic class and race are as intertwined

in Cleveland as in the rest of American society. As seen in Figures 5.1a and 5.1b, the

higher the percentage of blacks living in a neighborhood, the poorer the neighborhood.

In 2003, Cleveland was the ninth most dangerous city nationwide. In 2004 and 2006, it

was officially ranked by the U.S. Census Bureau as the poorest city in the America.

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Figure 5.1 about here

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Similar to other Northern and Western cities of its size and industrial structure,

Cleveland had been an important destination for many blacks migrating out of the South

during the first half of the 20th century (Miller and Wheeler 1997). The total number of

blacks in Cuyahoga County, which included the City of Cleveland and its suburbs, grew

steadily from 8,763 in 1910, which was 1.37 percent of the county’s population at the

time, to 87,145 in 1940, or 7.16 percent of the county’s population (Price-Spratlen and

Guest 2002). More than 90 percent of black residents lived in the city, as the suburbs

were not only unaffordable, but, due to the racial biases in the housing market, also

inaccessible. The City of Cleveland offered an affordable housing stock and an

abundance of low- and semi-skilled industrial jobs for migrant blacks, who did not have

to compete with Euro-immigrants in the low level labor market as fiercely as their counterparts had to do in other major industrial cities, such as Pittsburgh, Buffalo,

Cincinnati, Chicago, and Detroit (Miller and Wheeler 1997).

In addition, during the earlier decades of the century, Cleveland’s neighborhoods

were relatively integrated, both by race and socioeconomic class. According to

Lieberson (1980), the segregation index in Cleveland, which denotes the percentage of

blacks that had to be relocated to achieve perfect racial balance across the city, was only

7.5 percent in 1900. This number changed only slightly for the next three decades,

although it climbed to 55 percent between 1930 and 1940. Even then, Cleveland

remained relatively segregated than some of the other migrant locations, such as Chicago

and New York, where black isolation indices had reached nearly 70 percent by the mid-

1930s. What’s more, in the majority of black communities, professional middle-class

black families lived alongside poor and working class ones, supporting a strong pattern of

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vertical social integration (Wilson, 1987). Given these relatively favorable

circumstances, black neighborhoods in Cleveland remained socially vibrant and most

households enjoyed stable incomes, despite the inferior status of blacks.

The schools were a different matter. Cleveland never had an integrated and equal

public school system. As in other comparable cities, starting in the early 1900s, local school and city officials actively implemented a segregated neighborhood school policy.

Black schools received lower levels of funds, less qualified teachers and staff, and were

subject to inferior curricula (Richan 1967). In many cases, it was the black families and

neighborhood communities as a whole that put in the effort to improve and maintain the

black schools (Kusmer 1976). Thus, despite the low levels of economic and social

capital, the black children in Cleveland had access to considerable levels of cultural

capital in the prewar decades. Nevertheless, they remained subject to unfair educational

inequality in contrast to their white affluent counterparts, both within and around the city.

The pattern of urban decline in the postwar period in the U.S. was particularly

severe in Cleveland, because the city not only became intractably segregated and

increasingly poor, but also continued to receive higher numbers of black migrants from

the South than did most other cities in its region. Between 1940 and 1960, the black

population virtually tripled in Cuyahoga County, rising from 87,145 to 255,310 (Price-

Spratlen and Guest 2002). As before, the majority of blacks were isolated in the City;

very few—no more than seven percent—lived in the inner-ring suburbs. The number of

blacks in the County would reach nearly 330,000 in 1970. By the mid-1960s, the city

had become half black. According to Massey and Denton (1993), segregative practices

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were so intense in Cleveland between 1940 and 1960 that the segregation index exceeded

90 percent by the mid-1960s.

Beyond these dynamics, Cleveland had also begun to experience a significant process of suburbanization. The sprawl gained speed in the mid-1950s. As shown in

Figure 5.2, as the population in the city decreased, the population in the suburbs in the rest of the county sharply increased (Collins and Smith 2005). Given the dramatic levels of black in-migration as well as the availability of federal grants to buy homes in growing comfortable, homogenous neighborhoods, most whites began to leave the city; other, newly arriving whites simply avoided the city and located directly into the suburbs

(Suarez 1999). Most whites who remained in the city had lower middle and working- class, Euro-ethnic backgrounds. They resided largely in the city’s West side.

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Figure 5.2 about here

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As the demographic shift unfolded and the extent of racial isolation in the city grew, Cleveland also began to slowly deindustrialize, though the rate of increase in joblessness was initially not as high as it was in many other Northern cities. Between

1940 and 1960, Cleveland lost only 15 percent of its manufacturing jobs (Wilson 1987).

Nevertheless, the downward trend had begun to show its effects on the black households who had depended on those jobs for their livelihood. Rising joblessness and strict racial isolation began to create several ghettoized neighborhoods on the black East side of the

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city (Cooper 1964). This would become further aggravated as a result of the higher rate

of outmigration among affluent blacks to inner-ring suburbs after the 1964 Civil Rights

Act and the 1968 Fair Housing Act. In essence, by the late 1960s, Cleveland was well on

its way to becoming the poor and racialized town that it is today.

The condition of the schools from the early 1950s and on reflected the same

pattern. As the black population in the city increased, the school board intensified its

systematic segregation and discrimination policy. New, separate and unequal schools for the influx of black students were constructed in a way that reinforced the racial segregation in housing, and the majority of those schools were deprived of important

resources and care (Richan 1967; Moore 2002).

Most importantly, starting in the late 1940s, the postwar urban decay gradually

undermined the family and community support that isolated black schools and their

children had received in the prewar period. Neighborhood social disorganization was a

key factor in this process, eroding the normative underpinning of the mainstream family

structure in the black community. According to one estimate, the proportion of single-

parent families among blacks in Cleveland increased by 15 percent between 1945 and

1960 (Sprey 1967). The adverse effects of joblessness on the family structure would not

become as pronounced until the late 1960s and early 1970s. Still, the education and,

therefore, the life chances of poor black children in Cleveland were being impaired by a

combination of worsening ecological, non-school problems and a significant pattern

racial discrimination in public schooling (Richan 1967). As in the majority of the

Northern and Western cities, the required remedy involved a system of integrated and

287 equal education as well as a resolute attack on the economic, social, and cultural problems in the non-school context.

5.1.2. The expansion of the political opportunity structure in the mid-1960s

Black Clevelanders did try to bring about change in the postwar era—twice. The first episode lasted a little over a year and failed. In the 1963-1964 school year, black families launched a protest in an effort to end de facto segregation and other discriminatory practices in Cleveland. The rise of the civil rights movement in the broader U.S. had an important role in bringing this process about.

The opportunity structure allowed a degree of manifest conflict not available during the prewar decades in Cleveland. The Supreme Court’s Brown ruling, the

Presidencies of John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, and the liberal mood in the

Congress and the Senate in late 1963, provided considerable top-down incentive for collective action in Cleveland, as it did in several other Northern cities. There was also a significant bottom-up source of opportunity. First of all, the city’s racial demographics— a half black, half white population, with nearly 150,000 students—allowed potential plans for profound institutional change, involving replacement of the neighborhood school with the concept of the integrated school. Second, several black residents were encouraged by the support of the liberal white affluent in the North for racial equality.

Beyond these important opportunity factors, black Clevelanders had also been inspired by the struggle of Southern blacks for racial equality (Moore 2002). The

Montgomery bus boycott, the violence in Birmingham, and the March on Washington were pivotal events that mobilized poor blacks in the Northern ghettos to challenge

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discrimination. Indeed, the initial black protest of separate and unequal schooling in

Cleveland had a distinctly grassroots character, involving well organized parents groups

and urban social movement organizations (SMOs), particularly the United Freedom

Movement (UFM) and the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), a young an militant

grassroots group that represented the voice of the black poor and working class. The

NAACP, which preferred to take a more incremental approach, with a legal strategy at its core, to protest and was thus apprehensive about close collaboration with UFM and

CORE, was initially not the frontline SMO challenging unfair inequality in Cleveland.

That would change in the 1970s.

UFM and CORE had had a significant presence in Cleveland since the early

1960s, addressing the growing non-school problems in ghetto neighborhoods, especially housing segregation, joblessness, and inadequate healthcare and social services. City officials and the white community at large had traditionally ignored black grievances,

“knowing that whatever protest African Americans launched would be sporadic, short- lived, individualistic, solved behind the scenes” (Moore 2002, p. 140). But, this was a time of black insurgency nationwide and the efforts of the civil rights movement had recently begun to turn northward. Although the Civil Rights Act had not been signed yet, and President Johnson’s War on Poverty had not officially begun, there was tremendous momentum in Cleveland for demanding racial equality.

In mid-1963, UFM demanded the school board to integrate the schools—the first time the legitimacy of the neighborhood school was openly contested in Cleveland.

While all aspects of racial inequality were being questioned in public conversations, the specific issue at the time was the overcrowding of black schools. The school board had

289 responded to the dramatic increase in the black population between 1940 and 1960 in two ways. It had not only constructed school buildings in a way that reinforced residential segregation, but it had kept the number and size of the buildings at levels that were simply insufficient to provide a decent educational experience to black students. Most of the schools were severely overcrowded and black students were put in relay programs.

Past demands for improvement had only brought about make-shift extensions, such as portable classrooms, to existing schools.

The board negotiated for several weeks with UFM and the Relay Parents, the most active parents group in the city. Eventually, an agreement was reached to bus a limited number of black children to under-capacity white schools on the West side of town. But, it soon came out that the transported black students were kept strictly separate at the receiving white schools. They had to remain in a particular classroom all day, could not eat their lunch in the cafeteria, and were banned from assemblies, physical education classes, and school-wide extracurricular activities (Moore 2002). Also, they had access to the schools restroom at one designated time per day and were not allowed to see the in-school nurse.

UFM soon demanded the integration of the bussed students and issued an ultimatum that the school board ignored. Both UFM and CORE organized a series of public protests, sit-ins, picketing, boycotts, and street demonstrations. Collective action frames used effectively to invoke the critical discourse on inequality which in turn fostered significant mass support, not only among blacks, but also among some affluent whites. Reverend David Zuverik, the co-chair of the UFM school committee, saw direct action as the only recourse: “All we were demanding was basic rights … we seek

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meaningful integration … we have bent over backwards to accommodate the Board, but

now we apparently have to take stronger action” (quoted in Baines 1963, p. 1). UFM

President Harold Williams was more provocative in his remarks:

The revolution has come to town. Let’s hit the street like a mighty wave. The School board has been given a golden chance to take a great step forward, it hasn’t, when we picket we are simply exercising an extension of the right of freedom of speech. (quoted in Baines 1963, p. 1)

Such remarks bolstered the view that the black children and families in Cleveland

were “done to” and their plight was not their own fault (injustice frame), that the school

board, which represented “white interests,” was responsible for the wrongdoing (injustice frame), that integration (i.e., undoing the neighborhood schools) was the basic remedy that was appropriate and feasible (agency frame), that collective community efforts could lead to results (agency frame), and that social relations were inherently adversarial—

“we” v. “they” or “us” v. “them”—(identity frame). Mobilization spurred an effective intervention in local school policy and soon included the NAACP as well. The manifest conflict intensified as the underlying official and public resistance gradually became visible. School board President Ralph McCallister openly argued that black students were “educationally inferior” to white students (quoted in Moore 2002, p. 145). An angry white parent conveyed the biased sentiment that a considerable proportion of white families shared as follows:

We are looking for education for our children, not for Negro sons- and daughters-in-law. I don’t want my grandchildren black. I am proud of my race. I want to stay white. (quoted in Moore 2002, p. 145)

Protest activity spread across many individual schools and became commonplace at the school board headquarters. There were also a significant number of clashes between black protesters, on the one hand, and white mobs and local authorities on the

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other. Tension mounted even further when the school board announced in early 1964

that it would go ahead with plans for constructing new school buildings that would reinforce separate and unequal schooling. UFM immediately called for a moratorium on new school construction, describing the move as a direct violation of Brown. The

NAACP and CORE declared a statement that asked the board to build schools in fringe

areas where blacks and whites lived in close proximity. But, they were ignored.

UFM decided to picket the construction sites. On April 6, 1964, a group arrived

at one of the biggest sites. Twelve of them jumped into a ditch directly in the path of

heavy construction equipment. They were forcibly removed by the police. Several

protestors were arrested. Similar protests ensued the next day, but quickly turned deadly

when Reverend Bruce Klunder, a 27-year-old white minister and a CORE activist, was crushed to death while lying down in an inclined ditch. Although the operator of the tractor tried to stop, “his reaction was too slow,” said one eyewitness. Klunder’s death intensified the protests, which included almost daily demonstrations for several weeks.

However, the board did not budge. It not only stuck to its segregation policy for bussed black children, but also continued on with the controversial school construction plan.

In May 1964, the NAACP filed suit on behalf of Charles Craggett and twenty other schoolchildren charging the school board with intentional racial discrimination.

The immediate objective in Craggett v. Cleveland Board of Education was to suspend

school construction until the suit was resolved. However, the federal judge refused to

stop the construction and the court case became entangled inside the legal system and

was eventually dropped (Moore 2002).

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Although the concept of the neighborhood schools could not be replaced in

Cleveland, the School Board President Ralph McCallister was pressured to resign and

was replaced by Paul Briggs of the Ohio Civil Rights Commission. Briggs was quick to

redress some of the concerns of the black community. He restructured the school board,

integrated the teaching materials, revised the curriculum, implemented a human relations

program, opened libraries in every elementary school, and even fostered a minimum

degree of teacher integration. But, he completely refrained from any policy that would

undermine the neighborhood school concept. Briggs later became the Superintendent and

remained in charge until 1979. During the first half of his tenure, Cleveland went into a

deep freeze regarding the controversy around racial equality in education. Black schools

remained separate and increasingly unequal, and non-school problems continued to

worsen. But, the second half of Briggs’ term was characterized by intense controversy,

as Cleveland experienced its second episode of manifest conflict concerning unfair educational inequality.

5.1.3. Renewed opportunity in the early 1970s

The failure of the attempt to integrate the schools in Cleveland in the mid-1960s

gave way to an implicit consensus among the white and black elite regarding the status

quo in public education (Green 1999). While several things were to be done to improve

black children’s education, including the recruitment of black officials to key posts in the city and school administration, racial integration would not be pursued under any circumstance.

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However, the broader issue of racial inequality did not recede. On the contrary,

racial polarization steadily grew during the second half of the 1960s, occasioning a

serious of confrontations and riots, most notable among them being the Hough riots of

1966, which took 2,200 Ohio National Guardsmen to quell (Miller and Wheeler 1997).

Militant groups such as the Black Panthers also gained a strong foothold in Cleveland,

staging several violent events, including a shootout with the police in 1968, which

received significant national attention (Masotti and Corsi 1969). The black insurgency

was also highly visible in the formal political arena, as Cleveland elected Carl Stokes

mayor in 1967, the first black to hold that post in any major U.S. city.

Throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s, Cleveland came to epitomize the

worst of the urban crisis that was sweeping the nation. Poverty, isolation, and unrest

brought millions of federal dollars to the city as part of the ongoing War on Poverty.

However, local resistance to black demands, along with the declining national commitment to the Great Society programs, greatly hindered progress in improvement of non-school conditions for children. The systemic trends racial segregation, joblessness, and family dissolution continued with little change. As a matter of fact, the way in which local officials had used federal resources to build public housing projects significantly intensified racially segregated housing patterns and the resulting ghettoization within the city’s black areas.

Nevertheless, there still remained a significant opportunity in the early 1970s for black SMOs trigger manifest conflict in order to improve the schooling of black children.

After all, the Supreme Court’s 1968 Green ruling, 1969 Alexander ruling, and 1971

Swann ruling had provided significant impetus to integration efforts in the ghettos of the

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North and the West, despite conservative turn in the legislative and executive corners of the federal diamond, as well as among the majority of the white affluent. Plus, irrespective of the Presidential and Congressional impediments to school desegregation, much of the lower federal apparatus, such as the Office of Civil Rights, was still intact.

Although the Nixon administration had significantly limited the authority of HEW and

the Justice Department to inquire into racial segregation and demand integration in school districts, the NAACP could still depend on such federal agencies to support desegregation when the federal courts found districts guilty of intentional discrimination.

The Elementary and Secondary Education Act (ESEA) of 1965 and the Emergency

School Aid Act (ESAA) of 1972 also offered considerable resources to potential

desegregation plans in the cities.

Most critically, while the affluent in Cleveland had been suburbanizing for years,

was still a bi-racial city, which offered a feasible context for pursuing desegregation—

even a chance to involve the suburbs into possible remedial plans. The Milliken ruling in

Detroit, which approved a metropolitan, as opposed to a city-only, busing plan

constituted a key precedent for Cleveland. And, on top of all these favorable opportunity

factors, Cleveland had a new federal judge, Frank J. Battisti, who had a staunchly liberal

reputation, and who was unlikely to suffocate a potential law suit against the Cleveland

School Board like his counterpart did with the Craggett case in 1964.

The second episode in struggle to reverse unfair educational inequality in

Cleveland began in 1972. The NAACP led the effort. Unlike in 1963, however, the

effort had little grassroots support, at least initially. As a matter of fact, the initial

decision to pressure the Cleveland School Board to improve the schooling of black

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children originated from a private conversation among prominent NAACP attorneys

during a meeting about strategies to integrate the school systems of big cities in Ohio,

such as Cincinnati, Dayton, Toledo, Columbus, and Cleveland. Among the attorneys

were, James Hardiman, Thomas Atkins, Reverend James Stallings (the Director of

NAACP’s Cleveland chapter), and Nathaniel Jones (NAACP’s national general counsel),

who all agreed that Cleveland was particularly suitable for “starting and wining our fight

against school segregation in Ohio.”49

Over a year of talks produced mostly tokenistic approaches to reform and an unwavering resistance to desegregation on the part of the school board. In late 1973, the

NAACP sued both the school board (for intentional discrimination) and the State of Ohio

(for failing to monitor and reverse the board’s policies). The law suit was filed on behalf of Robert A. Reed and other black students in Cleveland, and was classified as a “class action” law suit. In Reed v. Rhodes, the NAACP basically demanded full equalization of the schools by means of comprehensive, metropolitan desegregation. However, given the bitter experiences with school desegregation in the mid-1960s, as well as the relative satisfaction with the status quo among middle class blacks in Cleveland, the NAACP attorneys received little sympathy from the most politically efficacious segment of the black community. Green (1999) points out that “Many affluent black citizens who were products of the school system and were doing well in the job world, [thanks in large part to the civil rights achievements of the prior decade] felt like the NAACP was attacking

the system wrongly” (p. 35).

Still, the NAACP was determined to see the effort through and thus continued to

openly contest the legitimacy of the neighborhood schools. The public discourse quickly

49 The quote is from the author’s interview with Hardiman.

296 polarized. As the NAACP relied on collective action frames to jolt the class consciousness of blacks in Cleveland, the school board, many city officials, business leaders, other elite in the city, and vocal members of the white community used conservative frames to discourage change.

“Racial segregation,” argued Revered Stallings, “is a living insult to the children and immeasurably taints the education they receive. We hope this law suit sets in motion a process that will end the dual system of education existing in this city” (quoted in

Williams 1973, p. 1). Such remarks unequivocally defined the public school system as unjust. Jones also made it clear that the “neighborhood school policy is the key problem,” and that the NAACP was “asking for a metropolitan plan” (quoted in Almond

1973, p. 1, italics are added). Thus, both the discriminatory organizational form and its remedial alternative were openly specified (agency frame). The NAACP’s rhetoric effectively conveyed the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing in public education. How could the schools that were supposed help every child equally, help affluent whites more than they did poor blacks?

The school board never denied that the schools were segregated, but, as many other Northern and Western city officials did at the time, used conservative frames to absolve the responsibility for the problem and blamed actorless forces for unfair inequality, such as “housing patterns,” “economic downturn,” and the “social ills in the city.” Superintendent Paul Briggs was particularly vocal. He noted that “Housing and schools are intertwined, which means the board’s policies have been a reflection of community preferences” (justice frame) (quoted in Almond 1974, p. 3). He also blamed past boards for “not doing enough to solve the problem” and praised his administration

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for “all the advances made to improve the quality of education for all students in

Cleveland” (quoted in Almond 1974, p. 3). But, neither the tactic of blurring the role of

human agency in the problem of unfair inequality, nor transferring accountability to “past discrimination,” was sufficient to stall the NAACP.

As the controversy grew, it became clear that the issue could not be brushed under the rug, as it had been in the 1960s. The NAACP openly accused the board and the State every chance it got, while the board continued to defend itself by arguing that its

“ongoing reforms [which included increased levels of curricular and teacher integration, and the establishment of magnet schools] would make Cleveland a premier district in the

nation” (conformity frame), that “pursing mandatory busing would compel many families

to leave the system and damage the things we have achieved in recent years” (conformity frame), and that “forced integration will do more harm than good given the housing patterns” (conformity frame) (Briggs quoted in Almond 1974, p. 2). Ironically, such remarks constituted important opportunities for the NAACP attorneys to reinforce the

identification of the board as the central, concrete target for black Clevelanders to get

angry at. The discursive tactics of the board, Nathaniel Jones argued, “show a lack of

ingenuity and a lack of desire … to correct the situation” (injustice frame) (quoted in

Almong 1974, p. 3).

By mid-1974, manifest conflict had gained significant visibility. Several black

grassroots organizations joined the effort by holding public meetings and information

sessions in black neighborhoods and churches. Prominent actors, such as the Cleveland

Catholic Diocese and the Cleveland Foundation also sided with the NAACP. Although,

Judge Battisti encouraged the parties to reach an agreement, the school board continued

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to propose incremental remedies, while the NAACP refused accept any remedy that did not dismantle the neighborhood schools.

A critical juncture was reached in the summer of 1974 when the Supreme Court

reversed the lower court’s decision in the Milliken case and made it a requirement for the

plaintiffs to provide evidence on suburban involvement in the creation of de jure

segregation in the city schools in order to involve suburbs in remedial busing plans. This

greatly narrowed the scope of what the NAACP could demand in regards to the

Cleveland school system. Prior declarations about the need pursue metropolitan busing

plans gradually faded and the NAACP focused increasingly on a citywide busing plan,

since there remained enough black and white students to help replace the neighborhood

schools with integrated ones within the city. As discussed in chapter 2, although Milliken

put a natural expiration date on many integration plans in cities where the predominantly

white affluent suburbanization had already become commonplace, even a slight chance to

improve the organizational effectiveness of the public schools in counteracting non-

school problems was deemed important by the NAACP. In a time of vanishing top-down

and bottom-up opportunity for manifest conflict, even a limited improvement was critical

for the life chances of poor black children in cities like Cleveland. Thus, as Briggs and

other officials pointed out how “busing will send all the whites to the suburbs” (as if that

was not already happening), the NAACP attorneys and other activists in Cleveland

became more adversarial than ever before. The frequency of identity frames, fostering

the “us v. them” sentiment, dramatically increased in 1974 and 1975:

“We are dealing here with a problem that has existed for centuries. Our life chances have been curtailed by Jim Crow schooling and discrimination in all areas of life. Today, we say ‘Never again!’ We will make sure our children experience equal education and not suffer from the

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evils of racial caste. The NAACP opposes the segregated neighborhood school because segregation teaches the segregated child his position is unchallengeable in American society” (James Hardiman quoted in Jindra and Gaumer 1975, p. 2, italics added).

This provocative discourse successfully exposed the contradiction between the

logics of public and private wellbeing. The private, individualistic interests of the

predominantly white affluent children and their families in Cleveland had been served by

the schools more than the collective interests that public education had promised to

serve—the “great equalizer” mission. The hearings began in November 1975, during

which the grassroots base for the open struggle increased considerably. Public

demonstrations, signature drives, and heated debates in the media became frequent.

When interviewed by the media, most whites on the West side of town openly stated that

they would not allow their individual rights and privileges to be ignored, and that they

would move to the suburbs if busing was implemented. Several counter-advocacy groups also mobilized in Cleveland, such as the National Association of Neighborhood Schools.

Four months after the hearings began, on August 31, 1976, Judge Battisti found the Cleveland Board of Education and the State of Ohio guilty of de jure segregation and

discrimination in the schools. The board had relied on optional attendance zones and

special transfer programs, manipulated school boundaries, used portable classrooms,

implemented biased school construction and faculty assignment plans, and developed a

policy of relay classes to foster separate and unequal schooling. It had also allocated

lower funds for staff and facilities to black schools than it had to white schools.

The defendants appealed and lost. It took nearly two years for the Cleveland

School Board and the State of Ohio to develop a remedial plan to integrate the schools.

After several iterations, the plan was approved by the court in the summer of 1978. It

300 was one of the most comprehensive citywide desegregation plans in the U.S., involving

14 components. In addition to undoing the neighborhood school, the plan included policies to integrate the teachers and staff, reform the testing and tracking programs, introduce affirmative reading programs, counseling and career guidance services, funding equity, rigorous school-community relations initiatives, and, a limited number of magnet schools as an add-on to the busing plan. The remedial order was put into practice in

1979.

The rest of the experience with school desegregation in Cleveland constitutes a microcosm of what happened in the entire the nation. For a brief period, there was a limited improvement in the capacity of urban public schools to counteract non-school problems to help poor black children succeed. But, at the same time, there was a slow but steady return to latent conflict. As in the majority of other cities, the prerogatives of class rule prevailed in Cleveland. Local authorities—other than those appointed by the court to monitor and implement desegregation—remained critical of and unenthused about integrated schools, while political leaders, neither in the city, nor in the suburbs, spoke of any initiatives to expand the scope of the effort. Most importantly, the affluent—both black and white—left the city for the suburbs at an increased pace, quickly undermining the feasibility of integrated schools. Although the suburbanization process had begun in the mid-1950s and had gained considerable momentum in the 1960s in Cleveland (Bier 1995; Henderson 2002), busing accelerated it considerably (Bier,

Campbell, and Orszycki 1985). As a matter of fact, most of the middle class whites and blacks exited the Cleveland school system in 1975, 1976, and 1977, did so in anticipation of the eventual remedial order in 1978. According to Cleveland school archives, nearly

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40 percent of white families withdrew their children from the Cleveland school system

between 1975 and 1978; 65 percent of these children were ineligible for free or reduced-

price lunch, indicating their affluent social class status.50 A considerable proportion of

affluent blacks—more than 30 percent—had left as well. Most of the existing families

relocated to the surrounding suburbs, and others enrolled their children in private

parochial schools in Cleveland. The second major wave of exacerbated affluent exit

occurred between 1978 and 1985, the initial years of racial desegregation.

By the end of the 1980s, more than half the white students had left Cleveland, making the district a predominantly (70 percent) black school system. . Thus, the local dynamics closely tracked the declining opportunity for manifest conflict at the national level. The actions, inactions, and choices of the predominantly white affluent restricted the opportunity for continued manifest conflict. Preventative power simply removed the conditions to sustain open controversy and demand radical change. Many officials began romanticizing about the “good old days” before desegregation. The untenable idea of

“separate but equal” became a popular objective in the city.

Moreover, non-school problems had reached levels that integrated schools were no longer able to cope with. Between 1967 and 1987, Cleveland lost 54 percent of its manufacturing jobs (Kasarda 1995), which hit poor black households the most. The racial isolation index remained at 90 percent and, from the mid-1980s on, Cleveland’s neighborhood began to suffer from dramatic levels of crime and social disorganization

(Chow and Coulton 1998). While only 30 percent of black children were in single-parent homes in 1976, over 50 percent were so in 1987.51

50 Data available from the Cleveland school system archives. 51 Data available from the Cleveland school system archives.

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In the early 1990s, Cleveland began to dismantle its desegregation program.

Given the lack of opportunity for manifest conflict, leaders, both black and white, advocated a return to neighborhood school, along with policies to foster school choice, governance reform, and school improvement—the three main reform alternatives popularized in the entire nation. The expansion of magnet schools was a key part of a reform effort adopted in 1991, which was also the year that a consent decree was signed to scale back on the original remedial plan. Although the original plan had limited success due to the increasingly adverse circumstances it was implemented in, there were

no official laws or other restrictions that prevented potential local plans to expand

desegregation into the suburbs and, at the same time, attack the non-school problems.

But, class dynamics precluded any such discussion. Instead, the neighborhood

school was re-institutionalized and the district was declared unitary in 1998. The

neighborhood school was legitimated by means of the ordinary discourse, which has

functioned as a false discourse, comprised of misused, change-discouraging conservative

frames that have subverted the interests of Cleveland’s poor black children. This

discourse remains prevalent today. And, despite all the promises of improvement and

radical change in the 1990s, the Cleveland schools worsened even further. Academically,

Cleveland schools have been one of the worst in the state of Ohio, which has frequently

placed the Cleveland Municipal School District (CMSD)—the schools’ new name

adopted in the 1990s—under academic watch and, in some years, academic emergency.

The consistent failure of the schools has often provided grounds for celebration of even

the smallest improvement. Cleveland students have typically scored well below the state

and national averages on standardized tests. In 2001, the dropout rate was 72 percent

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(Greene 2001). A year earlier, graduation rate for CMSD’s black students was the lowest

in all of the U.S. (Greene 2001).

The dynamics in Cleveland from 1978 and on provide a unique opportunity to test

the hypotheses put forth in chapters 3 and 4. In the remedial order that he approved in

1978, Judge Frank Battisti included a clause that mandated the Cleveland School Board

to maintain an expanded version of an archival database of the students the district had

kept since the early 1970s. The new version accumulated detailed yearly information on the academic performance as well as the personal, social, and economic background of students, including race, family income and structure, residential location, and school assignment. This unusually rich longitudinal data source provides a unique opportunity

to conduct robust tests of the effects of desegregation and resegregation in Cleveland.

In addition, the Cleveland Public Library had been publishing the Cleveland

News Index since 1976, which provides a comprehensive list of all the articles and

editorials in the local newspapers by particular categories. This index makes it possible

to locate relevant material in the Cleveland Plain Dealer, a mainstream mass circulation

newspaper that have always provided a comprehensive coverage of school matters in the

city and the suburbs. CPD material from the 1990s helps demonstrate the gradual rise of

the false, ordinary discourse in Cleveland to legitimize the neighborhood school and

cloak the unfair nature of educational inequality. Newspaper content is often used by

social movement researchers to test hypotheses about changes in the prevalent

interpretive frames in public discourse.

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5.2. DATA SOURCES AND ANALYSIS TECHNIQUES

5.2.1. Cleveland Municipal School District archives

For the 1978-1998 period, CMSD archives contained yearly individual records for

305,706 first-through-twelfth grade students, with an average of about five records per

student. In total, 1,578,352 records were available. Among the students, 95,670 were

white, 185,363 were black, 19,549 were Hispanic, and the rest were other minorities. The

number of school buildings in the district varied between 109 and 125. The majority of

the school buildings were located on the east side of the district, as seen in Figure 5.3.

Until 1981, the only “school type” or organizational form in CMSD was the regular

public school. In 1979, all regular public schools switched from the neighborhood school

form to the integrated school form. Starting in 1981, other organizational forms

emerged—magnet schools, vocational schools, special education schools or “programs,’

bilingual programs, gifted programs, and home schooling (see Appendix A for further

detail).

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Figure 5.3 about here

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Although a given building could often be categorized as a single organizational form, some buildings provided multiple educational programs, such as regular public schooling (in the form of a segregated neighborhood school or an integrated school) in

305 one wing and magnet schooling or special education in another. In total, there were seven different school types: regular, magnet, vocational, special education, gifted, bilingual, and home schooling. Over 1,200,000 of the records in the archives pertained to regular schools, 128,000 were associated with magnet schools, whose numbers increased considerably in the 1990s, and the rest of the records had to do with other school types.

Table 5.1 and Figure 5.4 indicate the pattern of yearly change in the population and racial composition of the student body. In 1978, the year before segregated neighborhood schools were officially replaced with racially integrated schools by means of mandatory busing, there were nearly 110,000 students enrolled in CMSD. As noted earlier, the ongoing affluent exit from Cleveland had already accelerated in the mid-

1970s due to the anticipation of busing. Table 5.1 shows the second wave of this process.

Between 1978 and 1985, the district lost 38,385 students. The total population largely stabilized after that. Of those who withdrew in the 1978-1985 period, 22,178 were white,

16,029 were black, and the rest were other races. Regardless of race, 77 percent of the exiting students were ineligible for free or reduced-price lunch. For whites, this percentage was 79; for blacks, it was 71. Over 92 percent of all the exiting students either relocated to the suburbs or enrolled in private parochial schools in Cleveland.52

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Table 5.1 and Figure 5.4 about here

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52 The archival database contained detailed information about the withdrawal and enrollment patterns of the CMSD students.

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Although affluent flight continued past 1985, the total withdrawal pattern remained at an average of 10 percent; new enrollments remained at an average of 8.5 percent. Every year, eight to 12 percent of the students were in each elementary and

middle school grade. Enrollment in the high school grades was lower, varying between 3

to 7 percent, due to higher dropout rates in the high schools.

A street address was available for each student record—meaning, for each

student, each year. This information was used geo-coding purposes. The addresses were

coded based on a highly detailed spatial, street-level reference data on the City of

Cleveland obtained from a private vendor. The reference data had been developed based on the geo-spatial information from Census 2000 pertaining to Cleveland. Therefore, it contained the most recent list of street names and ZIP codes in the city. While this was beneficial in geo-coding addresses from the 1990s and much of the 1980s, some addresses from the late 1970s and early 1980s could not be located. The average hit rate for the 1978-1982 period was approximately 96 percent. Between 1983 and 1988, it was

97.5 percent. For the rest of the years, it was 99.7 percent.

As in much of urban research, treated federal census tracts as proxies for neighborhoods (see Jargowsky 1997). Three separate census tract definitions were used, one for the 1970s, another for the 1980s, and the last one for the 1990s. This is because both the number and the boundaries of local tracts in crowded cities, such as Cleveland, change over time due to the evolving residential and population densities in different areas within the city. For instance, the 1970 census involved definitions for 202 tracts.

For the 1980s and 1990s, there were 198 and 208 tracts respectively. Each tract was had a unique four-digit ID number designated by the Census Bureau. By overlaying the spatial

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tract definition on the geo-coded addresses for each year, the particular neighborhood for

every student was determined. The relevant tract ID number was then appended to the

student records.

5.2.2. Variables

A number of measures were used in operational zing the constructs in Figure 3.2,

which pertained to hypotheses 1 through 7. The lack of economic capital was measured

by subsidized lunch codes (0=paid lunch, 1=eligible for free or reduced-price lunch).

Lack of social capital was operational zed by two separate measures: neighborhood crime

and racial isolation. Both measures for each census tract were obtained from the

CANDO database provided by the Center on Urban Poverty and Social Change at Case

Western Reserve University. Crime levels were determined based on yearly personal crime data at the tract level. Personal crime is an aggregate category including homicide, assault, aggravated assault, rape, and robbery. The CANDO database includes tract-level

personal crime counts extracted from police reports. These counts were adjusted for tract

populations in each year. Crime levels are an important indicator of neighborhood social

disorganization (Sampson and Groves 1989) and the potency of the ghetto subculture.

There was significant variation in the level of neighborhood personal crime in Cleveland,

across both space and time.

The second measure for the lack of social capital—racial isolation—was

determined by the percentage of blacks residing in the neighborhood. For urban blacks,

isolation reflects the concentration effects of poverty and disadvantage (Wilson 1987,

1996; Massey and Denton 1993; Jargowsky 1997). As described earlier, most blacks in

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Cleveland lived in predominantly black neighborhoods, disconnected from whites on the west side and from the affluent suburbs in the broader metropolitan area, although there was some variation in the city in terms of isolation as well, across both space and time.

Yearly tract-level personal crime and racial isolation measures were appended to individual student records based on students’ residential tract ID numbers.

Lack of cultural capital was operationalized by the available family structure information (0=double-parent family, 1=single/no-parent family) in the CMSD archives.

Whether the child is in a single- or no-parent home, the absence of a double-parent family is a proxy for the likelihood of ineffective parenting in the contemporary urban ecology.

Urban children deprived of an affluent-style double-parent family are more likely grow

up without a nurturing home context where they would receive positive habitus and

without the benefit of parental involvement in their schools, advantages that are common

among affluent children (Coleman 1986/1997).

School effectiveness, the dependent variable, was measured based on students’

yearly grade promotion data (0=retention, 1=promotion). As discussed earlier, in

evaluating the success of school desegregation in a context of rapid urban decline and

vanishing political opportunity for manifest conflict, it is critical to distinguish between

individual student performance, on the one hand, and the integrated school’s capability to

help the student perform. Although the two are intrinsically related, the latter conception

is far more critical with regard to the great equalizer ideal of public education in America.

The ultimate objective was to determine the ways in which the organizational

effectiveness of the schools is affected by non-school problems in the urban ecology. If

the hypotheses put forth in previous chapters have any merit, then integrated schools

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should be curtailed to a lesser extent than are segregated neighborhood schools. Ideally, the effectiveness of the integrated school should increase as non-school problems worsen.

A linear fixed-effects regression procedure was used (details provided in the next section) to estimate the school’s effect on the likelihood of individual grade promotion.

The effect (the regression coefficient) of a given school for a specific year indicated the average extent to which that school contributed (or hindered) the grade promotion of its students during that year. This is essentially an organization-level measure distinct but derived from student-level performance. Grade promotion is a basic indicator of educational attainment, which correlates highly with other performance measures such as standardized test scores and years of schooling (Reynolds 1992; McCoy and Reynolds

1998). In addition, as Guo, Brooks-Gunn, and Harris (1996) emphasize, grade promotion is a dynamic indicator that, unlike other traditional measures, associates particularly highly with the student’s family background. Although grade promotion and retention standards vary across time and across districts (Natale 1991), and there is always the problem of “social promotion/retention,” the promotion rate was relatively stable in

CMSD in the 1978-1998 period. As seen in Figure 5.5, except for a brief fluctuation during the initial years of desegregation, the promotion rate remained in a narrow band in the 80 to 90 percent range for both whites and minorities.53

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Figure 5.5 about here

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53 Every year, about 10 percent of all the students either withdrew from the district or dropped out of school before the academic year was out. For these children, performance data were unavailable.

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Also, since yearly grade promotion/retention data offered repeated measures

information for all students in all grades (unlike standardized test scores do for instance),

it was instrumental in a robust estimation of school effects on student performance. Once

a school’s effects on student promotion across different years were determined, each

yearly effect of that school was appended to the records of its students. Thus, a student record in any given year had a measure indicating the average success (or failure) of that student’s school in helping its students perform—the extent to which that school was effective as a great equalizer.

School effectiveness was used as the outcome variable in the later stages of the analysis. In regressing school effectiveness on the predictors depicted in Figure 3.2, three control variables were included. These were namely, minority concentration at school location, minority concentration within the school, and poverty concentration within the school. All three control variables are commonly used in estimating school quality and effectiveness. They were particularly relevant with regard to CMSD given the changes in the racial and poverty concentration in the district between 1978 and 1998. Racial

concentration at school location was measured as the percentage of black and other

minorities residing in the census tract where the school was located. Racial concentration

within school was the percentage of non-white students enrolled. And, poverty

concentration was the percentage of students at the school receiving free or reduced-price

lunch. The values for all three control variables were appended to the relevant individual

student records on a yearly basis.

In the finalized data set, each student record contained the following key

variables: unique CMSD student ID number, academic year, basic demographics (such as

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race, gender, age, etc.), grade, grade promotion/retention at the end of the school year,

family structure, lunch code, residential census tract ID number, personal crime rate in

the residential tract, racial isolation in the residential tract, school ID number, racial

concentration at school location, racial concentration in the school, poverty concentration

in the school, and the school’s effect on its students’ performance (school effectiveness).

In addition to these key variables, two more measures were included, namely, residential

mobility (indicating whether the student’s family changed residence from one year to the

next) and school transportation (indicating whether the student was bused to school). The

rationale for these two extra variables is explained below.

5.2.3. Econometric modeling

The analysis procedures on the archival data involved four parts. First, a linear

fixed-effects regression model was fitted to determine school effectiveness.54 The model

was expressed as:

6611 PRit=β 0 +β 1 (RM it ) +β 2 (TR it ) +β 3 (CCAP it ) +β 4 (ECAP it ) +∑ γ k (SCHOOL itk ) +ε it (1) k1= where i=student ID, t=year, k=school index (further explained below), PR=grade promotion, RM=residential mobility, TR=transportation, CCAP=lack of cultural capital,

ECAP=lack of economic capital, SCHOOL=dummy for the particular school attended by the student, and ε=random error. Given the repeated measures design of the model, the procedure “mean-centered” each variable around its yearly values, thereby eliminating potential estimation biases associated with both observed and unobserved fixed characteristics of the students (e.g., race, gender, IQ, genes, personality traits, physical

54 See Raudenbush and Willms (1995) for an alternative approach to estimating school effects.

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attributes, etc.) (Allison 2005). The student’s residential mobility was included as a time- varying control variable because urban families may frequently change residence—at times across neighborhoods—which negatively affects children’s educational performance (Hanushek, Kain, and Rivkin 2004). Transportation was another time- varying control variable to include in order to account for the effects of bus transportation. Though busing in CMSD from 1979 onwards was typically for desegregation purposes, which steadily declined between 1993 and 1998, some parents chose to enroll their children in magnet, vocational, gifted, and other programs that were often located far enough from home to require busing. Thus, every year a certain percentage of students were transported to schools in neighborhoods other than their own or the ones nearby, which could influence their performance.

The lack of cultural capital and the lack of economic capital available through the family can also be considered control variables in equation 1. These are the two most common and consistent predictors of student performance in America. The higher the family’s income (and wealth) and the more effective the parenting, the more successful the child is in school and beyond. The effects of the neighborhood on student performance are largely mediated by family structure and processes.

The central elements in equation 1 are the coefficients for the school dummies

(γk). Each γ represents the organizational effectiveness or the “total” effect of a particular

school on student performance—the effect of everything about that school: the paint on

the wall, the quality of the teachers and facilities, peer composition, and so on. School

dummies were generated by concatenating the three-digit school ID number with the two-

digit school type identifier (01=regular, 02=magnet, …, 07=home schooling) and the

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four-digit year variable. Thus, the dummies had the following form: 001-01-1978, 001-

02-1978, 001-03-1978, …, 001-07-1978, 001-01-1979, … etc. This resulted in a total of

6612 dummies, one of which was excluded as the base category. The excluded dummy

represented an average sized school from 1998. All the remaining 661 dummies were

included in the fixed-effects model in order to estimate their coefficients simultaneously.

Hence, the summation notation with the k index running from one to 6611 for the school dummies in equation 1. Since fixed-effects analysis does not permit control variables or

interaction terms involving fixed student characteristics, such as race, the model in

equation 1 was fitted separately for whites and minorities, obtaining two estimates for

each school dummy, one for the school’s white students and the other for its minority

students.55 This approach was necessary given the hypothesis 4, regarding racial

differences in the influence of the lack of cultural capital on school effectiveness. The

R2s for whites and minorities were 0.489 and 0.512 respectively, indicating that about

half the variation in educational attainment was explained by the model. In each case, the

school dummies picked up a substantial part of the variation explained. The coefficients

for the school dummies (the 6611 γs) were saved in a separate data set and then appended

to individual student records in the master data set based on the race, school ID number,

school type, and the year in each record in order to use in later stages of the analysis.56

55 For a small number of completely white or minority schools, only one estimate was obtained. 56 Since, school assignments for many students in a given year were the same, the assumption of ‘independent observations’ was violated, resulting in the underestimation of standard errors for coefficients of the school dummies. However, this was not a major concern because the primarily concern was to obtain unbiased beta estimates, not corrected standard errors. Nevertheless, the generalized least squares (GLS) procedure was used to adjust for the problem to the best extent possible. In addition, although the outcome variable in the fixed-effects model was dichotomous (0=retention, 1=promotion) the model was fitted as a linear rather than a logit or probit one. The latter models are computationally complex and often fail to converge with as large a sample size and as many predictors as included in this study (see Allison 1999, 2005). The linear model fitted for a dichotomous outcome variable is subject to the problem of

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For example, white students attending 001-01-1978 received one γ, while minority

students attending the same school received another γ in their records for 1978.

The next step in the analysis involved procedures pertaining to hypotheses 1 and

2—that is, the relationship between the lack of cultural capital on the one hand and the

lack of economic and social capital on the other. This relationship involves the problem of exogeneity because the causal dynamics may be the opposite of what is hypothesized.

Many conservative researchers in the U.S. (e.g., Murray 1984; Herrnstein and Murray

1994) have argued that urban residents remain poor and live in deteriorated neighborhoods because they lack the moral, cultural, or even the genetic traits to maintain an affluent lifestyle which typically involves a double-headed family structure. The neo- ecological approach suggests the opposite, arguing that family dissolution arises from accumulated socioeconomic disadvantage (Wilson 1987, 1996).

To resolve the exogeneity problem, a series of Granger tests were conducted, a classic vector auto-regression procedure in time series analysis (Granger 1969; Yaffee

2000). This test involves two models. In the first model, the postulated endogenous variable (Y) is regressed on its own history plus the history of the postulated exogenous variable (X). In the second model, the causal argument is flipped around and X is regressed on its own history plus the history of Y. Finally, each model is subjected to a

“multiple restrictions” test. In the first model, the coefficients for the predictor variables

representing the past values of X are restricted to zero and the F value (call this F1) for the resulting change in the R2 is recorded. This is repeated for the second model by

restricting the coefficients for the predictor variables representing the past values of Y to

heteroskedasticity. This, however, was not a concern because the basic objective was to obtain unbiased coefficients for the predictors, not predicted values for the outcome variable.

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2 zero and recording the F value (call this F2) associated with the R change. If F1 is greater than F2, then the history of X in explaining Y is more important than that of Y in

explaining X—that is, X Granger-causes or “historically precedes” Y. If F2 is greater

than F1, then Y Granger-causes X. If F1=F2, then there is circularity. The equations that

were used are as follows:

TT Y(Y)(X)it=β 0 +∑∑ β j i(t−− j) + λ j i(t j) +ε it {unrestricted model} (2.1a) j1== j1 T Y(Y)it=β 0 +∑ β j i(t− j) +ε it {restricted model} (2.1b) j1=

TT Y(X)(Y)it=β 0 +∑∑ β j i(t−− j) + λ j i(t j) +ε it {unrestricted model} (2.2a) j1== j1 T Y(X)it=β 0 +∑ β j i(t− j) +ε it {restricted model} (2.2b) j1=

where i=student ID, t=year, T=total number of years involved in the time series,

Y=postulated endogenous variable (economic and neighborhood conditions—each used

separately), X=postulated exogenous variable (family structure), and ε=random error.

The granger tests shown above were conducted four times, each time on a different five-year time segment: 1979-1983, 1984-1988, 1989-1993, and 1994-1998.

Hence, T=5 in equations 2.1a through 2.2b. This particular segmentation was preferred over other possible approaches because it captured a logical progression of the school desegregation story in CMSD. The 1979-1983 period included the initial years; 1984-

1988 was the “mature” implementation period; 1989-1994 were the years of decline; and, the 1994-1998 period mostly included the abandonment years, when the neighborhood school was re-legitimized.

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In each five-year segment, the CMSD archives posed certain censoring problems for the variables included in the Granger tests. For example, for those students who remained deprived of a double-parent family during the entire time in a given segment, it was not possible to tell if they never had double-parent families—which often results from teenage pregnancies—or if their parents had separated or divorced at some point before the start of the segment. The same problem applied to the economic and neighborhood variables as well. For a student who remained on lunch and/or lived in a high-crime neighborhood during the entire period of our study, it was impossible to tell whether his or her conditions had been different prior to the beginning of the segment.

Thus, the CMSD data was particularly suitable for examining the question of exogeneity for family breakups. For students who entered a particular segment with a double-parent family, it was possible to rigorously test whether the later changes in their family structure were caused by changes in economic and neighborhood conditions or the other way around. To give an example, the data for the 1979-1983 segment contained the records of all the students who had a double-parent family in 1978 and who remained enrolled in CMSD till the end of 1982-1983 academic year.

The data sets for the time segments used for the Granger tests had different sizes due to the gradual decline in the number of double-parent families in CMSD. The average number of yearly observations in the 1979-1983 period was about 15,000 students. The number for the 1984-1988, 1989-1993, and 1994-1998 segments were

9,700, 8,000, and 7,850 respectively. The models specified in equations 2.1a through

2.2b were fitted three times, for each selected time segment, each time examining a particular bivariate exogeneity: [family structure (Y) ↔ lunch codes (X)], [family

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structure (Y) ↔ neighborhood personal crime level (X)], [family structure (Y) ↔

neighborhood racial isolation (X)]. F values greater for the differences between

equations 2.1a and 2.1b than the values for the differences between equations 2.2a and

2.2b would support hypotheses 1 and 2.

In addition to the Granger tests, a set of lagged bivariate correlation tests were

conducted to examine the exogeneity problem regarding the relationship between family structure, on the one hand, and economic and neighborhood conditions on the other. The data for these tests pertained to the same five-year time segments used for the Granger tests. For each segment, two separate lag procedures were involved. First, the value for the postulated endogenous variable (Y) during the last year of the segment was correlated to the value for the postulated exogenous variable (X) during the same year, then from the year before, then from two years earlier, then from three years earlier, and then, finally, from four years earlier. Next, the lag structure was reversed and the values of X were correlated to the past values of Y in the same manner. The entire procedure was repeated four times, given the four different time segments involved. The equations used were lagged versions of the Pearson’s product-moment coefficient:

nn n ∑∑(xit−− xit )(y it yit ) (x it − x it )(y i(t−− 1) − y i(t−− 1) ) ∑ (x it − x it )(y i(t 4) − y i(t 4) ) r,r,,r==i1== i1… = i1 = (3.1a … 3.1e) xyit it(n−− 1)s s xy it i(t−− 1) (n 1)s s xy it i(t 4) (n − 1)s s xyit it xy it i(t−− 1) xy it i(t 4)

n nn

∑(yit−− yit )(x it xit ) ∑∑(yit−− yit )(x i(t−− 1) xi(t−− 1) ) (y it −− y it )(x i(t 4) x i(t 4) ) r = i1= ,r==i1== ,… ,r i1 (3.2a … 3.2e) yxit it (n1)ss−−yxit i(t−− 1) (n1)ss yx it i(t 4) (n1)ss − yxit it yx it i(t−− 1) yx it i(t 4)

where i=student ID, t=year, n=total number of students included in the correlation test,

Y=postulated endogenous variable (economic and neighborhood conditions—each used

separately), and X=postulated exogenous variable (family structure). Hypotheses 1 and 2

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would be confirmed if a decreasing pattern of coefficients resulted from equations 3.1a through 3.1b, while an increasing pattern resulted from equations 3.2a through 3.2b.

The subsequent part of our analysis was designed to test hypotheses 3, 4, and 7, which had to do with the relationship between the lack of cultural capital and school effectiveness. The instrumental variables regression method was used for this part—also referred to as two-stage least squares (TSLS) regression. The TSLS procedure not only reduces the omitted variable bias, but at the same time, examines mediation dynamics.

A potential source of bias in predicting the effect of family structure on the organizational effectiveness of the schools has to do with unobserved reasons for why a student may be deprived of a double-parent family. While the neo-ecological approach emphasizes broad causes such as economic impoverishment and neighborhood disorganization, for which measures were available in the CMSD data set, there may be

several other causes such as the individual choices, idiosyncrasies, and personality traits

of single-parents, as well as the potential value and moral conflicts between spouses or

partners. Since such unobserved determinants of family structure may have educational

implications for children and the schools, they could bias the estimation of school

effectiveness. The TSLS procedure copes with this problem by transforming the

information on cultural capital in light of the specific predictors of family structure that

are of central interest.

The first stage involves regressing family structure (the “instrumented” variable)

on its hypothesized predictors (the “instruments”), namely the lunch code (lack of

economic capital) and neighborhood variables (the lack of social capital). The predicted

values for the family structure are saved, each student’s value indicating the likelihood of

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that student to be deprived of a double-parent family given his (or her) lack of economic and social capital. This predicted value is then used in the second stage to predict school effectiveness. In essence, instead of regressing school effectiveness on the original measure of family structure, a new measure of family structure is used, one that is largely free of omission bias.

The test of the mediation dynamics is inherent in the way in which the TSLS estimation works. Since the predicted values of family structure that are used in the second stage are a function of economic and neighborhood conditions specified in the first stage, a significant effect of the lack of cultural capital on school effectiveness in the second stage would also denote the mediated influence of economic and neighborhood conditions on school effectiveness. This would be an influence that operates only through the family structure. As such, the TSLS procedure is particularly useful for examining the conceptual model in Figure 3.2. The two-stage equations used were as follows:

CCAPi01i=β +β (SL ) +β 2i (SR ) +β 3i (SP ) +[ β 4 (ECAP i ) +β 5 (SCAP1 i ) +β 6 (SCAP2 i )] + u i(4.1)

γ=λ+λi01i(SL ) +λ 2i (SR ) +λ 3i4 (SP ) +λ (CCAP i ) + v i (4.2)

where i=student ID, CCAP=lack of cultural capital, SL=minority concentration at school location, SR=minority concentration within the school, SP=poverty concentration within the school, ECAP=lack of economic capital, SCAP1=lack of social capital-1 (personal crime level at residential census tract), SCAP2=lack of social capital-2 (racial isolation in residential census tract), γ=school effectiveness (obtained from the fixed-effects regression procedure using equation 1), CCAP=predicted lack of cultural capital obtained from equation 4.1, and u,v=random error.

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The instruments used in the estimation are shown in brackets in equation 4.1.

Three control variables (SL, SR, and SP), which were conceptually relevant for the second stage, were included in both stages of the procedure for proper estimation (see

Greene 2002). They account for the changing racial and poverty composition of the

CMSD student body between 1978 and 1998. It is also important to note another control involved in the estimation by virtue of design. Regardless of the degree of busing in any given year between 1978 and 1998, CMSD schools remained largely equivalent with respect to tangible resources due to court-monitoring for fiscal equity. The same was true regarding equity in teachers, staff, and facilities. This provided a unique opportunity for a considerably unbiased estimation of the relationship between non-school deprivation and school effectiveness. Unobserved within-district variation in tangible resources across the schools is a common problem in the estimation of the relationship between school effectiveness and various predictors that are of theoretical interest (Condron and

Roscingo 2003).

The TSLS procedure was repeated separately for each year in order to test hypothesis 3. As for hypotheses 4 and 7, the yearly runs were repeated by race and school type. Although there were, as described earlier, seven different school types in

CMSD from 1981 and on, the TSLS procedure was repeated only for regular and magnet school types, ignoring other types such as vocational schools, and gifted and bilingual programs, for which no hypotheses were included in this study.

The key coefficient in the TSLS procedure was λ4, simultaneously representing both the unbiased effect of the lack of cultural capital on school effectiveness and the mediated effect of the lack of economic and social capital on school effectiveness.

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Hypotheses 3a and 3b would be confirmed if the λ4 coefficients for the desegregation

years—the 1980s—were more positive or less negative than those for the pre- and post-

desegregation years in CMSD—1978 and the 1990s. Hypotheses 4a and 4b would be

confirmed if the λ4 coefficients for white students were higher than those for minority

students during the desegregation years, and if the difference disappeared in the post-

desegregation years when CMSD became a heavily poor and black school district.

Finally, Hypotheses 4a and 4b would be confirmed if the λ4 coefficients for magnet

school students were more positive or less negative than those for regular school students.

In the final part of the analysis using the CMSD data set, hypotheses 5 and 6 were

tested, regarding the dynamics of the school choice market. The following logit model

was used for this purpose:

⎛⎞p(magnet= 1) log⎜⎟=β01 +β (RACE i2 ) +β (ECAP i3 ) +β (SCAP1 i4 ) +β (SCAP2 i5 ) +β (CCAP ii ) +ε (5) ⎝⎠p(magnet= 0) where i=student ID, magnet=enrollment in a magnet school (0=regular,1=magnet),

RACE=student’s race (0=black, 1=white), ECAP=lack of economic capital, SCAP1=lack of social capital-1 (personal crime level at residential census tract), SCAP2=lack of social capital-2 (racial isolation in residential census tract), CCAP=lack of cultural capital, and

ε=random error. The logit model was fitted separately for each year. Negative coefficients on all the predictors would confirm hypotheses 5 and 6.

5.2.2. Discourse data from the Cleveland Plain Dealer

Hypothesis 8 was tested using discourse data from the Cleveland Plain Dealer

(CPD) between 1993 and 1998. It was during this period that CMSD dismantled its desegregation program and re-institutionalized the concept of the neighborhood school,

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like many other urban districts did, despite the inherent ill effects of separate and unequal

education and the severe non-school problems that neighborhood schools could not

counteract. It was also during this period that CMSD initiated several incremental

reforms that were inconsequential in the bigger scheme of things, such as school choice programs (specifically, magnet schools), mayoral takeover of the district, organizational restructuring of individual schools, and standardized testing and teacher improvement.

Had any of this worked, CMSD would currently not be an embodiment of unfair educational inequality.

The public discourse, as manifested in the local news media, provides important means to test whether conservative frames were used by various actors to rationalize the return to neighborhood schools and to construct a false discourse that cloaks the unfair nature of the inequality in CMSD. Social movement researchers have relied on newspaper content to study the emergence and subsequent evolution of the ordinary and critical discourses on inequality. As McCarthy, Smith, and Zald (1996) note,

In Western democratic societies, the mass media are central purveyors of information and images. Although injustices and deprivations may be directly experienced in local contexts, the larger public and reference elites learns them mainly through the media. (p. 293)

Likewise, Gamson (1992) points out that,

Media discourse, although only one part of public discourse, is a good reflection of the whole. We need to understand what this public discourse says about an issue, since it is a central part of the reality in which people negotiate meaning about political issues. (p. 27)

In a context of restricted political opportunity for manifest conflict, the media

constitutes the most natural and readily available medium to invoke the ordinary discourse and render the neighborhood school taken for granted. Therefore, examining

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the public discourse in the local media is particularly important for determining the

symbolic dimension of preventative power—how a discriminatory organizational form,

that was once fiercely contested, was legitimized.

To this end, all the articles and editorials regarding the Cleveland public schools,

which appeared in CPD between January 1, 1993 and December 31, 1998 were collected.

The Cleveland News Index, published by the Cleveland Public Library, listed the citations of these articles and editorials under two basic categories—“school” and “school

desegregation.” A total of 1,557 pieces were identified. All of them were downloaded from the Lexis Academic database and were then converted to a raw text format, excluding all images and other non-text material. Figure 5.6 shows the yearly count of the downloaded items. For each year, about 10 percent of the items were dropped because they had to do with school districts in Cuyahoga County other than CMSD.

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Figure 5.6 about here

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5.2.3. A strategy for exploratory frame analysis

Frame analysis, originally introduced by Goffman (1974), is about capturing the

“definition of the situation” in social interaction. A frame defines both “what is going on” in situation and “what is not going.” Such a definition typically involves the specification of the activities, ends, means, objects, and, most importantly, the actors or groups involved in the situation. The concept of “frame” refers to this inevitably

324 relational dimension of meaning, what other sociologists have tried to invoke by words like “background,” “setting,” “context,” or phrases like “in terms of.”

As such, framing plays an important role in describing the relationship between social classes—in defining the situation between the classes as fair or unfair, in specifying whether certain social practices are morally appropriate or not, in identifying the dominant and subordinate classes as adversaries or socially integrated groups, in clarifying the relevant ends and means, and so on.

Goffman’s biggest contribution to social movement research was his insight that a given frame need not necessarily reflect the truth about the situation it helps define

(Gamson 1985). Any given interaction can be framed in a variety of ways, depending on who is doing the framing and how much influence they have over the conversation space.

In other words, which frames are used and when are often a function of interests and power. This is particularly common in occasions of empirical difficulty in determining the true nature of the situation. Just as the same weather can be defined as “partly cloudy” or “partly sunny,” so can poverty be defined as “deserved” or “undeserved,” violence can be described as “terrorism” or “freedom fighting,” nuclear energy can be framed as an “achievement” or “threat,” and affirmative action can be framed as a

“remedial” or “degrading” practice.

Movement scholars have discovered that framing is a key asset for SMOs and activists who set out to challenge unfair inequality and voice the interests of subordinate groups in the class hierarchy. The persistent use of collective action frames—namely, injustice, agency, and identity—help invoke the critical discourse on inequality and re- frame the nature of class relationships as unfair (Gamson 1992, 1995). This facilitates

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mass mobilization in openly contesting the legitimacy of discriminatory practices in the clash hierarchy. To challenge inequality and authority, one must make a scene, which many people are hesitant to do. But, collective action frames encourage change and make it easier and more acceptable to express dissent, both in private and in public.

However, collective action framing and the subsequent salience of the critical discourse are contingent upon the degree of political opportunity for manifest conflict. In the absence of sufficient opportunity, the conservative frames—justice, conformity, and commonality—are likely to prevail and the ordinary discourse remains salient, portraying unfair inequality as fair, and justify or rationalize discriminatory practice, at least in the

public domain.

In order to frame-analyze the public discourse in CMSD between 1993 and 1998,

the original frames put forth by movement scholars into what Goffman (1974) calls

“keys” or “cues.” According to Goffman, a particular frame need not, and often cannot,

be conjured up in its totality. For instance, one only needs to refer to the behavior or the

cultural traits of a poor individual in describing his success or failure in order to frame his

plight or his upward mobility as a consequence of innate talent or motivation rather than

of the circumstances he had been subject to. Goffman referred to this as “keying” or

“cuing,” a discursive move which implicitly evokes an entire definition of the situation,

regardless of true or not. In other words, reference to the part calls up the whole. And,

this part-whole dynamic proves tremendously effective given the degree of efficiency and

parsimony by which public discourse transpires.

Therefore, the collective action and conservative frames defined and studied by

movement scholars were broken down in terms of the keys or cues involved in each.

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This helped develop a codebook, which could be used for coding CPD content, while

reaming loyal to the theoretical underpinnings of the frames. The codebook is shown in

Table 5.2. Frame analysis is an emerging area that has attracted considerable attention in

the last two decades. While there is no established method, there are several ways to

approach frame analysis, most of them being qualitative, and some ethnographic (see

Johnston 2002). Most studies that address frames and framing rely on the interpretations

of the coder or the researcher to a considerable degree. This was minimized to the best

extent possible by specifying the keys or codes within each frame as detailed as possible.

Therefore, the coding of the frames was largely based on whether a certain key in the

codebook was explicitly present or not in a codable segment of the news content.

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Table 5.2 about here

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Three coders were used in the frame analysis procedure. The principal investigator was one of the coders. The other two had no knowledge of the argument and/or the theoretical framework underlying the study. Initially each coder was trained in using the codebook using a sample of the content. In this initial round, the codes were slightly revised based on the coders feedback to one another about text instances where disagreed on how to code. Once a commonly accepted codebook was developed (see

Appendix B), the coders used it to analyze the frames in the CPD articles and editorials.

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The principal investigator and one of the independent coders analyzed the entire

content, while the third coder analyzed only half (odd months in each year), due to cost and time constraints. Coders one and two agreed 91 percent of the time; coders one and

three agreed 83 percent of the time; and coders two and three agreed 85 percent of the

time. Once all three coders finished their respective tasks, periodic meetings were held to

clarify the source of the disagreements. Throughout this process, an average of 93

percent agreement was reached among all three coders. Those text segments over which

there was a lack of three-way agreement were dropped from the analysis. A higher

frequency of conservative frames, as opposed to collective action frames, between 1993

and 1998 would confirm hypothesis 8.

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CHAPTER 6

RESULTS

In CMSD, as in most other large urban school districts in the North and the West,

the concept of the neighborhood school was briefly de-institutionalized, and replaced by

the notion of the racially integrated school under conditions of worsening non-school

problems and vanishing opportunity for continued manifest conflict. The failure of

desegregation to deliver on its officially proclaimed objectives eventually led to the re-

institutionalization of the neighborhood school in the 1990s and the restoration of the

localist pattern of social class privilege in American public education. The neighborhood

school was legitimated by means of a discourse that not only discredited the integrated

school and praised the virtues of segregated education, but also promoted a variety of

other, largely inconsequential reform efforts.

However, a judicious evaluation of school desegregation must take into account

three important factors. First, focusing on changes in individual student performance is

likely to conceal the extent to which desegregation was beneficial to poor black children,

because these children’s academic performance was likely to have been undermined by non-school problems that should have been alleviated by means of broader reforms implemented concurrently with school desegregation, such as the War on Poverty.

Second, any educational reform effort targeting the improvement of disadvantaged children’s life chances ought to be evaluated in reference to the uniquely American notion of public education as the “great equalizer,” which refers to the organizational effectiveness of the schools to counteract the adverse effects of non-school problems and

329 facilitate academic success. The key question, then, is: Were integrated schools more effective then neighborhood schools in facilitating student success despite the ever increasing lack of economic, social, and cultural capital in the postwar urban ecology?

The third important factor to take into account is that the public discourse that has legitimated the return of the neighborhood school is likely to be false, because if urban school desegregation was truly a failure and if the contemporary reforms since the early

1990s have been more valuable, then urban education should have progressed dramatically in recent years. Yet, poor black and, in recent years, Hispanic children remain deprived of effective and equal education and the achievement gap has been widening. Thus, the question is: Has the contemporary discourse cloaked the true nature of educational inequality and helped institutionalize the neighborhood school in urban areas under false premises? If this is so, then the most plausible basis for the taken-for- grantedness of the neighborhood school is the restriction of the political opportunity for openly contesting its legitimacy and exposing the extent of non-school disparities that urban schools fail to counteract. In other words, an inherently discriminatory and inferior organizational form remains legitimate due to latent conflict in the class hierarchy.

6.1. Econometric analysis: 1978-1998

The results of the econometric analysis on CMSD provide significant insights concerning the politics of urban school desegregation in the U.S. First and foremost,

Table 6.1 and Figure 6.1 show the pattern of non-school class disadvantages constituting the life-world of the average CMSD student between 1978 and 1998. Although these

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disadvantages were already severe prior to 1978, the data indicates the particularly

pronounced pattern of the decline during and after the desegregation years in the district.

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Table 6.1 and Figure 6.1 about here

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The most striking aspect of the non-school problems in CMSD was the lack of cultural capital. While about half the students were deprived of a double-parent family in

1978, close to 75 percent of them were so by 1998. The lack of economic capital also increased, though less dramatically, from 92 percent of the students receiving free or reduce-priced lunch in 1978 to 96 percent in 1998. It is important to note , however, that lunch codes are likely to underestimate the degree of material hardship affecting the children because lunch subsidy is ultimately a “threshold” measure with considerable unobserved variation in economic status both above the threshold (lunch-eligible students) and below it (lunch-ineligible students). For instance, any pair of students may qualify for lunch, where one student’s family income may still be considerably higher than that of the other by urban standards. Obviously, this problem curtails the ability to detect the full spectrum of economic differences. Nevertheless, lunch codes were used in this study, as in most others, in the absence of better economic variables. It will be shown later that even as coarse a measure as lunch codes was effective is illustrating the influence of the lack of economic capital for the education and broader life chances of urban students, both minority and white.

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The yearly pattern of average neighborhood personal crime (homicide, assault,

aggravated assault, rape, and robbery) also indicates the increasing severity of non-school

disadvantages. In 1978, the average CMSD student lived in a neighborhood where 1.5

percent of individual residents were victims of personal crimes. By 1998, the same

measure had climbed to nearly 6 percent, indicating the extent to which the average

neighborhood became acutely socially disorganized and lost much of its nurturing,

communal characteristics. In a typical affluent neighborhood in the U.S., less than half a

percent of residents are victims of personal crimes every year. There is another aspect of

neighborhood crime in CMSD which is not shown in Table 6.1, but worth mentioning.

From the mid-1980s and on, the yearly distribution of the average crime level across the

neighborhoods was considerably skewed because some families lived in extremely high-

crime neighborhoods. Although the mean neighborhood crime levels changed only

slightly when the extreme cases were removed, the large yearly standard deviations, which were at times two to three times as high as the mean itself, indicated the exacerbated levels of disorganization and the subsequent absence of social capital in some neighborhoods.

The second measure for the lack of social capital, namely, racial concentration at

the neighborhood, indicates the persistence of residential segregation in CMSD.

Although this measure increased by about 10 percent, from 59 percent in 1978 to 70

percent 1998, it is important to note that the increase was largely due to integration rather

than isolation in certain neighborhoods. The racial breakdown of this measure reveals the

situation more effectively. In 1978, the average white CMSD student lived in a

neighborhood where only 6 percent of the residents were minorities (mostly black). As

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CMSD gradually became a predominantly black school system, black families (some

already living in Cleveland and some newly arriving) moved into residential areas

vacated by white families. This was particularly common in fringe neighborhoods in the

center-west and center-east side of CMSD. Hispanic families also took part in the same

process. As a result, certain neighborhoods reached considerable levels of racial mixing over time. By 1998, the average white student lived in a neighborhood where 24 percent of the residents were minorities. The implications are also evident in the decreasing extent of racial isolation for minority students—from 90 percent in 1978 to 82 in 1998.

However, the kind of integration revealed by these statistics should not be mistaken for the kind of integration that would result from official policy or from voluntary actions of citizens. It is more likely to have occurred as a result of the re- allocation of residential space left behind by the exiting whites. Moreover, CMSD has remained a largely segregated district where the average minority student continued to live in an overwhelmingly non-white neighborhood. Such high levels of segregation in disadvantaged districts where the population is largely black helps insulate white

residents from the effects of concentrated poverty and the ghetto subculture, while

magnifying the adverse outcomes for blacks (Massey and Denton 1993; Jargowsky 1997;

Peterson and Krivo 1999). In CMSD, many black families and their children remained persistently isolated not only from the whites within the district, but also from the affluent (both white and black) in the surrounding suburbs.

The racial breakdowns for the other measures of the non-school context are also

informative, particularly family structure and neighborhood crime (see Figures 6a and

6c). Although skin color makes little difference in terms of non-school problems in a

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deprived urban district, whites in CMSD have been significantly less deprived than

blacks and other minorities have. On average, there has been about 20 percent difference

in terms of the density of single- or no parent families, and about 2 percent difference in terms of the level of neighborhood personal crime. These differences are consistent with

the neo-ecological contention that urban whites live in relatively better off sub-ecologies

in contrast to poor blacks.

On the other hand, the racial difference in terms of the lack of economic capital in

CMSD has not been as notable (see Figure 6b). It is likely that the weak or coarse nature of lunch codes as an economic measure fails to reveal the true extent of the racial difference. As shown earlier in Figure 5.1, the higher the percentage of blacks in a

CMSD neighborhood, the poorer the neighborhood (i.e., the higher the percentage of families receiving Temporary Assistance for Needy Families).

Table 6.1 and Figure 6.1 also show the yearly pattern for the means of the three control variables used in the analysis—minority concentration at school location, minority concentration within the school, and poverty concentration within the school.

These were included in the analysis to account for important changes before, during, and after school desegregation in CMSD. Public schools where more than 80 percent of students are black or other minorities are considered “racially isolated” (Lippman et al.

1996). This was the situation for most minority students in CMSD before and after desegregation. Figures 6e and 6f indicate the difference school desegregation made in this regard. As the concept of the neighborhood school was de-institutionalized, students were assigned to mixed schools (6f) often away from their neighborhoods (6e).

Resegregation, beginning in 1993, simply restored high levels of racial concentration. As

334 for poverty concentration within the schools, it remained well above 90 percent for all races throughout the entire time period, except for whites in 1978. Public schools where more than 40 percent of students are eligible for free or reduced-price lunch are officially considered “poor” (Lippman et al. 1996); more than 60 percent indicates “extreme poverty.” The standard deviations for all three control variables were small relative the respective means in each year.

In essence, CMSD is an urban school district, which, like many others, has continued to suffer from worsening non-school problems. And, desegregation was implemented in CMSD against growing non-school adversities and diminishing chances for the black poor to demand radical change in public education. It was an episode of institutional change which had little prospect of dramatic success and had an inherent expiration date.

Table 6.2 summarizes the yearly basic descriptives for the key dependent variable, school effectiveness. These descriptives pertain to the school’s influence on the student’s grade promotion estimated by the fixed-effects model in equation 1. In that model, the yearly effectiveness for each CMSD school was specified by the particular set of γ coefficients for the dummies representing that school (a dummy for each year during which the school remained open).57 Given the structure of the dummy coding, it was possible to obtain means and standard deviations for the γ coefficients by year and school type. Although there were seven different school types in CMSD from 1981 onwards

(regular, magnet, vocational, gifted, bilingual, special education, and home schooling), the overall results were broken down only for regular and magnet schools given the

57 The school dummies were generated by concatenating the three-digit school ID number with the two digit school type identifier, and the four-digit year variable (see chapter 5 for details).

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hypotheses put forth in previous chapters. In addition, since the model in equation 1 was fitted separately for whites and minorities (see chapter 5), it was possible to break the means and standard deviations of the γ coefficients by race as well.

Averaging all the γs for 1978 resulted in -.804, the first mean shown in Table 6.1.

Averaging all the γs for whites in the same year resulted in -.869; the average for

minorities was -.767. The means for regular and magnet schools are shown in the next

two panels. Given the racial composition the district, the means for “all students” in any

of the three panels are weighted averages for the means for whites and minorities in the

same panel.

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Table 6.2 and Figure 6.2 about here

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These basic descriptives have several important features. First, the average

organizational effectiveness of the schools remained negative in most years, irrespective

of the prevalence of neighborhood or integrated schools, meaning that the average school

in CMSD continued to hinder rather than help its students succeed. However, the effect

increased, becoming less negative, considerably between 1978 and 1998, regardless of

race and school type. The progress continued even after the neighborhood schools were

re-institutionalized in the 1990s. Except for a brief fluctuation during the 1979-1980

school year, there was steady improvement in the extent to which the average school

contributed to student performance in CMSD. The pattern is more visible in Figure 6.2,

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which also displays the 95 percent confidence interval for each chart. Not only was there

an increase in the average organizational effectiveness of the schools, but the variation around that average (i.e., the confidence interval) remained largely the same, except for the initial and final years of the desegregation policy.

The standard deviations for 1979 and 1980 were the smallest of all 21 years (e.g.

.108 and .105 for 1979 and 1980 respectively, irrespective of school type and race), meaning there was more equality in school effectiveness in CMSD in two years than in any other. This was followed by a relatively stable degree of variation in school effectiveness all the way up to the early 1990. However, from 1993 and on, the confidence interval for the mean in each chart in Figure 6.2 tends to broaden, meaning that the degree of inequality in school effectiveness was increasing. By 1998, the standard deviation in school effectiveness, for both whites and minorities, had reached levels similar to those in 1978, a year prior to the replacement of neighborhood schools with racially integrated ones (see Table 6.2).

In essence, desegregation seems to have been a critical intervention in bringing the average CMSD school closer to the great equalizer ideal. While more robust conclusions about this require correlating school effectiveness to non-school factors, at this point, it is clear that desegregation was a beneficial policy in terms of the organizational effectiveness of the schools.

Why does the average school effectiveness continue to increase in the 1990s, when CMSD re-institutionalized the neighborhood school? A plausible reason is that, although the schools resegregated, the court continued to monitor CMSD for school equity in all other respects up until 1998. Therefore, the real difference that resegregation

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is likely to have made would be revealed when school effectiveness is correlated to the non-school problems of students.

Another important aspect of the results shown in Table 6.2 has to do with the contrast between races and school types. In all three panels, the mean school effectiveness for whites starts out slightly lower than that for blacks. But, the difference tends to disappear by the mid-1980s. From that point on the mean for whites gradually becomes higher than that for minorities. This was a surprising finding, indicating that desegregation in CMSD seems to have made the average school more effective for whites than for minorities. This, however, should not be taken at face value because, not only was the difference very small (see Figure 6.2), but also the most relevant impact of desegregation on different races would be revealed only when school effectiveness is correlated to non-school problems, since this is where much of the difference between urban whites and blacks has existed in the postwar ecology.

As far as the difference between school types is concerned, Table 6.2 indicates that magnet schools were more effective than regular schools were in helping students succeed, irrespective of race. In fact, the average effectiveness of the magnet school became positive in the late 1990s, particularly for white students. In other words, magnets were generally better in their great equalizer role than regular schools were.

This is unsurprising given the likelihood that magnets creamed the near-poor students in

CMSD, particularly from among the blacks and other minorities. As seen in columns 2,

4, and 6 in the third panel of Table 6.2, the standard deviations of yearly means for magnet school effectiveness are systematically lower than the deviations for regular schools in CMSD, suggesting that magnet schools were considerably more homogenous.

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Ultimately, the basic descriptives for the organizational effectiveness of the schools show that school desegregation in CMSD never made the average school one that positively and highly contributes to student success. However, it made the schools hinder students to a lesser extent, even after neighborhood schools were re-institutionalized.

Most importantly, as seen in Figure 6.2., the upper bound of the confidence interval for the average school effect regardless of race and school type, increased beyond the zero mark from 1985 and on, meaning that a considerable proportion of CMSD students did benefit from their schools in their academic achievement starting in the mid-1980, once desegregation policy stabilized in the district.

Table 6.3 shows the results of the Granger tests regarding hypotheses 1 and 2.

The first pair in each block pertains to equations 2.1a and 2.1b, regressing family structure on its own history plus the history of a postulated exogenous variable in 2.1a and then regressing family structure only on its own history in 2.1b. The second pair in each block merely reverses the causal scenario, pertaining to equations 2.2a and 2.2b. As discussed in chapter 5, the Granger tests were conducted using a subsample of the original data. A total of four time segments were selected, each segment involving five years, and representing a theoretically plausible period of the desegregation experience in

CMSD. Each segment included students whose families were double-parent a year prior to the start of the segment and who remained enrolled in CMSD the entire time during the segment. To give an example, the data for the 1979-1983 segment contained the records of all the students who had a double-parent family in 1978 and who remained enrolled in

CMSD till the end of 1982-1983 academic year (see the footnotes for Table 6.3 for the sample sizes in each selected segment).

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Although the Granger test was originally designed as an auto-regression

procedure using OLS, the family structure variable in this study was categorical (double-

v. single- or no-parent). So was the variable used for lack of economic capital (ineligible

v. eligible for free- or reduced lunch). Therefore, when either of these two variables was

the dependent variable in any given regression, a probit rather than an OLS model was

preferred in order to obtain a better estimation of model fit. In such a case, the contrast

between the two regressions in the pair involved a χ2 comparison rather than a linear F-

score comparison based on the traditional R2 information in OLS. For instance, a χ2 of

30.166 (p<0.01), pertaining to the first pair in the first block in Table 6.3, indicates the

significance of the explanatory loss going from the first equation to the second. The

second χ2 score (12.128, p<0.05) has to do with the loss as a result of going from the first to the second equation in the second pair. The first pair tests the exogeneity of the lunch codes in predicting the family structure. The second pair tests the opposite causal scenario. Thus, the fact that the first χ2 score is greater than the second one

(30.166>12.128) supports the hypothesis that the lack of economic capital causes the lack

of cultural capital rather than the other way around in the 1979-1983 period.

For hypotheses 1 and 2 to be confirmed, the first χ2 score in each block should be

greater than the second. For instance, the lack of social capital is also exogenous to the lack of cultural capital in the 1979-1983 period: 23.983>2.428 (when social capital is operationalized as neighborhood personal crime) and 10.773>5.896 (when social capital is operationalized as neighborhood racial concentration). Since the social capital variables were continuous measures, the equations in each relevant pair were compared using the F test involved in the original Granger test. But, each resulting F score was

340 converted to an asymptotically equivalent χ2 score (see the footnotes for Table 6.3 for the details of the conversion process).

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Table 6.3 about here

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The results for the remaining three time segments were similar to those in the first time segment. In each pair, the first χ2 score was greater, and often statistically more significant, than the second one. While these results do not suggest “causality” as traditionally understood, they do provide important evidence concerning the structure of the time precedence between the variables included in the tests. Thus, in all four selected time segments, the lack of economic and social capital precedes or “Granger-causes” the lack of cultural capital. As suggested by the neo-ecologists (e.g., Wilson 1987, 1996;

Massey and Denton 1993), economic deprivation and community deterioration continued to erode the material and normative basis of the double-parent family in CMSD between

1978 and 1998, limiting children’s access to cultural capital, the most important non- school endowment.

The results of the Granger tests were corroborated by the lagged correlation tests shown in equations 3.1a through 3.2e. As seen in Table 6.4 and in Figures 6.3a through

6.3d, the correlation between family structure on the one hand and lagged values of both the lunch codes and neighborhood wellbeing, on the other hand, display an increasing pattern. In contrast, the correlation between lunch codes and lagged values of family

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structure or between neighborhood wellbeing and lagged values of family structure reveal a decreasing pattern. This is the case in all four selected time segments, suggesting that the lack of economic and social capital had lagged positive effects on the lack of cultural capital in CMSD between 1978 and 1998. Simply put, decline in income and/or deterioration in neighborhood quality increased the likelihood of spousal breakup a few years down the line, rather than immediately.

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Table 6.4 and Figures 6.3a through 6.3d about here

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The next step in the analysis involved the TSLS model shown in equations 4.1 and 4.2. Table 6.5 shows the first stage results, where family structure is regressed on economic and neighborhood conditions (equation 4.1). As noted in chapter 5, the TSLS procedure reduces the omitted variable bias in estimation (i.e., the unobserved reasons for single/no-parent family structure) by transforming the cultural capital variable in light of the specific predictors of family structure that are of key interest, namely the lack of economic and social capital (the “instruments”). The predicted values for family structure are saved and then used for prediction in the second stage. Thus, it is imperative that the first stage regressions are statistically meaningful.

The results in Table 6.5 were obtained by means of logit analyses. In fact, the

TSLS procedure fits linear regressions in both stages, which are estimated simultaneously

(IVREG command in STATA 8.1 was used for estimation). But, since the outcome

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variable in the first stage of the analysis was dichotomous (0=double-parent family,

1=single/no-parent family), the results from a set of separate logit estimates are presented

in Table 6.5. These results give a better idea of the relevant effects and fit statistics.58 It is worth noting that the coefficient estimates in Table 6.5 are relevant for re-confirming hypotheses 1 and 2 as well.

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Table 6.5 about here

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As seen in the table, the log likelihood scores for the yearly logit models are statistically significant at the 0.01 level, irrespective of race and school type. The goodness-of-fit in the first stage of TSLS is critical because it suggests that the instruments (i.e., lack of economic and social capital) pick up a sizable portion of the variation in the instrumented variable, lack of cultural capital. The coefficient estimates are expressed in the form of odds ratios (eβ). The three control variables—percent

minority at school location, percent minority within school, and percent on lunch within

school—which were conceptually relevant for the second stage of the TSLS procedure,

had to be included in the first stage merely for proper estimation in the second stage (see

Greene 2002) and will, therefore, not be interpreted.

58 Although the coefficients in the linear versions of the first stage regressions were different from what is shown in Table 6.5, they did not make much of a difference in the procedure as a whole because what was of interest in the first stage was the predicted values for family structure, not the coefficients of the predictors. There is currently no software package capable of running the TSLS procedure where the instrumented variable is categorical.

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Receiving lunch subsidy in 1978 increased the odds of being in a single- or no-

parent family by 2.39 times (p<0.05) for the typical CMSD student, irrespective of race.

The same odds in that year increased by 1.142 times (p<0.05) due to one unit increase in

neighborhood personal crime level and by 1.103 times (p<0.05) due to one unit increase

in neighborhood racial isolation. In other words, the lack of economic and social capital

increased the lack of cultural capital available to the child.

The pattern of odds ratios remained remarkably similar throughout the entire time period. In addition, although white students were exposed to the same non-school problems as poor minorities were, they were often affected to a lesser degree, since the odds ratios for whites tended to be smaller than those for minorities. Indeed, the log likelihood score for models pertaining to minority students were considerably higher than that for models pertaining to white students (e.g., -41,170.042 for minorities as opposed to -25,584.099 for whites in 1978). This meant that the instruments explained family structure better for minorities than they did for whites, most likely due to the relatively less deprived sub-ecology of white students and families in CMSD. The pattern of results for minorities—both the odds ratios and the log likelihood scores—supports hypotheses 1 and 2.

For every model in Table 6.5, a “multiple restrictions” F test concerning the collective significance of the three instruments used is presented. Each F value comes from an OLS model where family structure is regressed on the three control variables

(percent minority at school location, percent minority within school, and percent on lunch within school) plus the instruments—basically, a linear replication of the logit models in

Table 6.5. Large and significant F values indicate that simultaneously restricting the

344 coefficients of all three instruments to zero makes a significant difference in model fit in the first stage of TSLS. According to Staiger and Stock (1997), F values lower than 10 denote weak instruments, which may result in biased estimates in the second stage. As shown in Table 6.5, this problem did not occur in any year, regardless of race and school type. In essence, the first stage of the TSLS procedure not only re-confirmed hypotheses

1 and 2, but also set robust grounds for estimation in the second stage, concerning hypotheses 3, 4, and 7.

Table 6.6 shows the results of the second stage (see equation 4.2). The estimates are standardized linear coefficients form the actual TSLS output. An important point must be made about the fit statistics. The R2 is an untenable measure of model fit in the context of TSLS, since part of the sum of squared errors (SSE) involved in the second stage comes from the SSE in the first stage (because predicted values from stage one are used in stage two). Thus, for each yearly model, the F value for the whole model is presented as evidence of model plausibility.

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Table 6.6 about here

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The critical coefficient in Table 6.6 is the one for the effect of “Predicted

Single/No Parent” (CCAP in equation 4.2). There are two different ways of interpreting this coefficient. First, it can be viewed as the influence of the lack of cultural capital on the organizational effectiveness of the school. But, since the CCAP values are a function

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of the student’s lunch code and neighborhood wellbeing from the first stage, the CCAP coefficient can also be viewed as the mediated influence of the lack of economic and social capital on school effectiveness as depicted in Figure 3.2. In other words, it is the influence of those aspects of ineffective parenting that are exclusively due to economic and neighborhood problems outside the schools. Other causes of ineffective parenting are filtered out by the first stage in the TSLS procedure.

It was predicted in hypotheses 3a and 3b that integrated schools would be more

effective than segregated neighborhood schools in compensating for the influence of the lack of cultural capital for poor black children in the postwar urban ecology because

integrated schools would not only be better equipped, but also have access to more cultural capital. The yearly pattern of CCAP coefficients for minorities in Table 6.6 provides considerable support the hypotheses 3a and 3b. In 1978, one unit increase in

the lack of cultural capital decreased school effectiveness for minorities by -0.821

standard deviation units (p<0.050). In other words, the schools hindered rather than

helped poor minorities succeed when these students lacked effective parenting as a result

of adverse economic and neighborhood factors. This was the year before neighborhood

schools were replaced by integrated schools, and it was the exact opposite of what the notion of the great equalizer ideal in American public education had implied—counteract the effects of non-school problems and facilitate student performance.

Given the constraints on its scale and scope, urban school desegregation in the

U.S. should to be evaluated with regard to the extent to which it enhanced the organizational effectiveness of the schools, not changes in individual student performance. Integrated schools were established in CMSD starting in 1979. The

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schools also came under court supervision for equity in tangible factors such as funding,

facilities, supplies, staff, and teacher credentials and qualifications. Office of School

Monitoring and Community Relations (OSMCR) had been established two years earlier

to oversee and evaluate progress in desegregation implementation. The brown line in

Figure 6.4 shows the pattern of change in school effectiveness for minorities in CMSD

over time. In 1979, the CCAP coefficient for them became 0.105 (p>0.050). This

slightly positive but non-significant coefficient indicates that integrated schools were neutral early on in their effect on minority students. They neither hindered not helped.

The following year, their effect climbed to 0.649 (p<0.050), meaning the integrated schools actually began fulfilling their great equalizer mission to a considerable extent; the higher the lack of cultural capital resulting from the lack of economic and social capital, the higher the organizational contribution of the integrated schools to the academic performance of minority children.

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Figure 6.4 about here

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The change from 1978 to 1980 suggests that the pattern of improvement declined in the 1979-1980 academic year. This was most likely due two reasons. First, there was a significant wave of affluent flight from CMSD to suburban and private schools at the end of the first year of desegregation. Although the issue of desegregation has accelerated affluent flight by the mid-1970s and the flight would continue until the mid-

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1980s (see Chapter 5), the 1979-1980 academic year was a particularly high “exit” year.

Of the nearly 17,000 students who left, about 84 percent were ineligible for free or

reduced-price lunch and 68 percent had double-parent families. About 10,000 were white

and the rest were minority (predominantly black) affluent. This is likely to have not only

deprived CMSD schools from an important source of family-related non-school

resources, but impeded the initial thrust of the desegregation policy.

The second likely reason for the decline in improvement was a strike in the fall of

1979, which included the bus drivers and other key support staff at CMSD. Schooling did not being till late October that year. As a result, both the desegregation policy and student learning suffered significantly. Nevertheless, the extent to which integrated

schools contributed to the success of minority students at the end of that year was much

higher than where it was in 1978.

In 1981, school effectiveness for minority students declined considerably (-0.823,

p<0.050), down to its 1978 level. This was most probably due to the difficulty of

implementing desegregation plans in a context of exacerbated flight, particularly the decline in the number of white students in the district. However, from 1982 to 1988, the organizational effectiveness of integrated schools in counteracting the lack of cultural capital, as well as the underlying economic and social capital, steadily increased to a point where it leveled off around zero, meaning integrated schools were largely immune to the adverse effects of non-school problems. All the relevant CCAP coefficients in the

1984-1988 period were small and non-significant. Although integrated schools were unable to contribute positively to minority students’ performance during that period, they were not an impediment either, unlike their effect prior to 1979. This pattern provides

348 significant support to hypothesis 3b in particular. As predicted, urban school desegregation renders schools more effective by redistributing non-school advantages and disadvantages more evenly across the schools such that minority students are no longer concentrated in schools highly deprived from cultural, economic and social capital available from the family.

Progress took an irreversible turn for the worse from the 1988-1989 academic year and on. In 1989, one unit increase in the likelihood of ineffective parenting due to economic and neighborhood adversities decreased the effectiveness of integrated schools by -0.903 (p<.050) standard deviation units, worse than pre-desegregation levels. It is as if integrated schools surrendered to non-school class disadvantages of minority students at CSMD. The CCAP coefficient highly negative for the next four years: -0.780, -0.776,

-0.526, and -0.581, though statistically not significant for 1992 and 1993. There is a very logical explanation for this pattern: extremity of non-school problems.

In the late 1980s, the city of Cleveland experienced a particularly pronounced deterioration in terms of the non-school ecology (see Chow and Coulton 1998). The lack of economic, social, and cultural capital increased beyond a threshold never before seen in Cleveland. It also became geographically more dispersed affecting the city in a comprehensive manner. Figures 6.5 through 6.8 show the nature of the change. These figure summarize depict the decline at the neighborhood level in terms material deprivation, drug use, low birth weight, and personal crime. A total of seven years were selected for these figures. In each figure, the scale for each chart is set at 1978 levels for meaningful yearly comparisons over time.

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Figure 6.5 through Figure 6.8 about here

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Figure 6.5 show the change in the intensity and dispersion of material deprivation

(lunch subsidy). While change was little and stable between 1978 and 1987, all the neighborhoods in the city were dramatically affects between 1987 and 1990. They remained that way for the remaining years. The same pattern could be observed with respect to drug violation arrests in Figure 6.6, low birth weight in Figure 6.7, and personal crime in Figure 6.8. In each case, 1987 was the break year when non-school disadvantages increased to extreme levels both in terms of intensity and dispersion.

Therefore, it was natural for the schools, integrated or not, to be adversely affected.

Public schools are unique organizations in the sense that they have little control over the quality of their main inputs, the students. In the case of urban public schools, there is another unique characteristic in that these schools need a certain degree of non- school support in order to overcome non-school problems in the first place. If those problems reach extreme levels, urban public schools are often likely to magnify rather than alleviate the students’ disadvantage. Hence, the pattern of CCAP coefficients for minority students in CMSD past 1988.

As in the rest of the nation, school desegregation in CMSD had run its course. In a context of severe non-school disparities that undermine education regardless of racial integration, the irreversible racial isolation in urban areas, and the restricted opportunity to sustain manifest conflict around unfair educational inequality and to openly contest the legitimacy of the neighborhood school, the public discourse in CMSD began to point out

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more explicitly than ever before the “wisdom of the neighborhood schools” and the

“good old days” before desegregation in Cleveland, openly advocating the return to

“separate but equal.”

As discussed in chapter 3, there are three approaches to remedying unfair educational inequality in the American class hierarchy, regardless of whether or not the inequality comprises a racial element. From easiest to hardest, these are as follows: (1) educate poor children like affluent ones, (2) educate poor children not only like affluent ones, but also with them, and (3) in addition to educating poor children with affluent ones, improve their non-school lives, at least those aspects of it that significantly affect schooling. Instead of going up, the discourse in CMSD began to advocate going down in this hierarchy of remedies. Rather than expanding the scope of desegregation and attacking non-school problems, the greater Cleveland region preferred to dismantle desegregation and attempt to provide equal education in racially separate schools, an inherently untenable goal given the nature of urban poverty.

The initial cut down on busing began in 1991, when the district was allowed to create a number of “community schools” to which parents could choose to enroll their children. These were not “school choice” schools in the traditional sense, but rather neighborhood schools in stealth mode. Parents could apply to them so long as the policy did not undermine court mandated racial quotas in the district at large. However, the official move to end desegregation began in 1993 under a new plan, called Vision 21, designed to re-establish neighborhood schools and expand school choice programs throughout the rest of the 1990s. The key aspects of the discourse accompanying this change will be discussed in more detail below. It basically legitimized the neighborhood

351 schools and promised steady improvement in the district, in part blaming desegregation for the current ills.

The pattern of CCAP coefficients from 1993 completely defies the basic premises of the public discourse in CMSD during much of the 1990s. In the 1993-1994 school year, one unit increase in the lack of cultural capital decreased school effectiveness by

-0.833 (p<0.050) standard deviation units for minority students. By 1998, the effect became -1.268 (p<0.050), nearly 50 percent worse than what it was in 1978, prior to desegregation. Comparing the coefficients in the 1988-1993 period to those from the

1994-1998 period, neighborhood schools were essentially more vulnerable to the lack of cultural capital, as well as the underlying lack of economic and social capital, than integrated schools ever were in CMSD, providing considerable support to hypothesis 3.

Table 6.6 also shows the yearly pattern of CCAP coefficients for white students in

CMSD. In essence, these coefficients strongly support hypotheses 4a and 4b. In the majority of the years, schools effectiveness for whites had a statistically non-significant relationship to their lack of cultural capital, as well as the underlying lack of economic and social capital. Prior to desegregation, in 1978, one unit increase the average white students’ lack of cultural capital due specifically to the lack of economic and social capital increased school effectiveness by 1.773 (p<0.050) standard deviation units. In other words, the more disadvantaged the white student, the more helpful was the school, as mandated by the great equalizer ideal. The replacement of neighborhood schools with integrated ones actually increased this effect slightly (1.839, p<0.050), despite common fears of “white harm.”

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However, whites were likely influenced by the by the high level of affluent flight as well as the strike at CMSD in the 1979-1980 school year, just as blacks were. The

CCAP coefficient for whites dropped to 0.262 (p>0.050) in 1980. Although it recovered for the next few years, reaching 0.731 (p<0.050) in 1984, whites lost their edge from

1985 till 1991, when the initial cuts on busing began. However, except in 1980, and as few years in the mid-1980s when the CCAP coefficients for both races leveled off around zero, whites were always less disadvantaged than minorities in CMSD, as predicted by hypothesis 4a.

The drop from 0.731 (p<0.050) in 1984, first to nearly zero and then to negative values, was most likely due to white isolation in predominantly black schools. As discussed in chapter 3, white harm during racial desegregation occurred only when the integration plan placed a small percentage of white students in a heavily black school with a high concentration of children from single-parent families (Caldas and Bankston

III 2005). By the end of 1984, CMSD had become only 25 percent white. Since the district had to maintain a level of racial balance at each school roughly reflecting the district’s overall racial proportions during the desegregation years, the average white student was placed from 1985 onwards in a school that was anywhere between 65 and 85 percent black, and mostly poor and single-parented. On top of this, between 1987 and

1991, whites appear to have been affected by the severe urban decline in CMSD just as minority students were. As seen in Figures 6.5 through 6.8, the extremity of the deterioration in the non-school ecology of CMSD did not spare the largely white east side of the district. Even then, however, whites appear to have been less disadvantaged than

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minorities were, as the CCAP coefficients for whites remained statistically non-

significant.

The break for whites seems to have come in the early 1990s—first with the initial

cut down on busing in 1991, and then with re-establishment of segregated neighborhood

schools from 1993 and on. Though, the CCAP coefficient for whites never grew enough

to gain statistical significance, the trend in the 1995-1998 period suggests that school

effectiveness was gradually becoming negatively correlated to the lack of cultural capital,

as well as the underlying lack of economic and social capital for white students. The pattern of racial contrast regarding the relationship of school effectiveness to the non-

school context in the 1990s had largely to do with the changes in the racial composition

of the schools, and little, if anything, with tangible inequities across the school during

resegregation, as the federal court continued to monitor the CMSD schools for equity in

funding, facilities, supplies, curriculum quality, and teacher and staff credentials till the

end of the 1997-1998 school year, when the districts was officially declared unitary.

It is important to point out that the estimations for all the CCAP coefficients in

Table 6.6 are net of the effects the three most common variables used in predicting school

and/or student effectiveness in the sociology of education and desegregation research.

They are, therefore, not only unaffected by unobserved variables pertaining to the lack of

cultural capital (cleaned out in the first stage of TSLS), but also the potential influence of

racial and poverty concentration at the school level.

These latter control variables warrant some interpretation in their own right.

Poverty concentration at school location typically had a small and non-significant effect

on school effectiveness. Minority concentration within school had different effects in

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different years. A total of nine years out of 21, the effect of minority concentration

within school was non-significant, regardless of race or school type. In those years when

it was significant, it typically had a more negative effect for minorities than for whites.

Poverty concentration within school, on the other hand, was large, negative and

significant for both races and school types. Unsurprisingly, economic deprivation

appears to have had the most systematic and racially neutral detriment to school

effectiveness.

In 1993, as CMSD began to dismantle its integrated schools and re-establish

neighborhood schools, it also moved to expand its magnet schools. Figure 6.9 shows the

pattern of magnet school enrollment in CMSD (see also Appendix 1). Enrollment in

magnets actually began to surge during the later 1980s, when non-school problems in

CMSD took a turn for the extreme, nullifying the benefits of desegregation. It is likely

that most families with sufficient cultural capital took advantage of the school choice market as the regular schools became less effective in the late 1980s. The surge

continued when CMSD expanded the number of magnet schools further in the 1990s, but

then stabilized at about 20 percent for minority students and 16 percent for whites in the

district. As in most other urban areas, the school choice market in CMSD saturated into

failure; in other words, it became a permanently failing market that creams the near poor particularly from among the predominantly black minorities.

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Figure 6.9 about here

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The results of logit analysis that are shown in Table 6.7 support hypotheses 5 and

6, pertaining to the dynamics of creaming and cooptation in the urban school choice

market. Starting in 1982, the predominantly black minority students were likelier than their white counterparts to enroll in CMSD magnet schools—about 1.120 (p<0.050) times more likely in 1982, climbing up to 1.326 (p<0.050) times more likely in 1990.

The odds increased further in the 1990s, reaching 1.689 (p<0.050) in 1998. The pattern clearly supports hypothesis 5. The odds of magnet enrollment in 1981 for students receiving free or reduced-price lunch was 0.437 (p<0.050), meaning those who were ineligible for subsidized lunch were over 50 percent more likely to enroll in magnets.

With the exception of 1984, this odds ratio remained relatively stable, increasing to 0.615

(p<0.050) by 1998, a pattern that supports hypothesis 6b.

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Table 6.7 about here

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The most critical non-school factor that structured the school choice market was the lack of cultural capital. In 1981, the odds of magnet enrollment for a student living in a single- or no-parent family was 0.791 (p<0.050) or simply 20 percent less than for counterparts in double-parent families. This effect also remained largely stable across time, supporting hypothesis 6c.

As for the effect of the lack of social capital, neighborhood personal crime seems to have had a more stable and robust influence on magnet enrollment than did

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neighborhood racial isolation. For the former, the effect did not become statistically

significant till 1984. In that year, one standard deviation unit increase in neighborhood personal crime, decreased the odds of magnet school enrollment by about 11 percent

(odds ratio=0.887, p<0.050). The same pattern continued till 1988 (odds ratio=0.871,

p<0.050). In both 1989 and 1991, the effect was non-significant. But, in between those

two years—in 1990—the odds of magnet enrollment dropped down to 0.484 (p<0.050),

indicating more than half the chances of magnet enrollment was lost due to one standard

deviation unit increase in neighborhood personal crime. The fluctuation may have been

due to the sharp increase and dispersion of personal crime across CMSD neighborhoods

(see Figure 6.8). For the rest of the period, the effect was significant only in 1992, 1996, and 1998. The odds ratio was around 0.800 (p<0.050) in each of these years. In other years during the 1990s, the odds ratio was non-significant. It is likely that the increase and dramatic dispersion of personal crime in the entire city during the late 1980s

compromised the explanatory power of this measure for the 1990s.

Finally, the effect of neighborhood racial isolation on magnet enrollment was

often small and non-significant, failing to support hypothesis 6b. In those rare years,

when it did gain significance—for instance, in 1998 when it was highest (odds

ratio=1.141, p<0.050)—it indicated that racial isolation in the neighborhood contributed

rather than hindered magnet enrollment. This was most likely because the effect was

confounded by minority attraction to magnet schools. In other words, since minorities, particularly blacks, were more attracted than whites were to these schools, the density of non-whites in a neighborhood tended to correlate positively with magnet enrollment.

Although the measure and the associated hypothesis were put forth with the opposite

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argument in mind, the result ultimately supports the insight about creaming in the urban

school choice market.

In essence, minority and near-poor students have typically been likelier to utilize magnet schools in CMSD. Proponents of school choice would argue that enrollment in these schools is a function of parental initiative and student talent and motivation.

Although true to a certain extent, such a view is untenable to a large degree when the economic and neighborhood conditions that undermine cultural capital are taken into account in districts like CMSD. If those conditions limit the quality of parenting, as supported by the results in this analysis, and if parenting is a crucial factor in the school choice market, then that market is not a free or impersonal market but a failing market that appears free. It is a market that taps into the consumer’s disposition only after that disposition is structured by important ecological conditions in the class hierarchy. In that regard, the magnet school is an organizational form that normalizes or justifies unfair inequality rather than remedy it in a comprehensive or systemic manner.

The critics of school choice would argue that magnets take away important material and social resources from the conventional public education system. While there is an element of truth in such criticism, a bigger issue is that magnets help legitimize segregated neighborhood schools. The two organizational forms do not compete for resources in the traditional sense. Instead, magnets contribute to the survival of the neighborhood school by creaming or co-opting those students and parent who are most likely and most efficacious to complain about inferior education at segregated neighborhood schools. Magnets also help the legitimacy of the neighborhood school in terms of the discourse they help promote. Since magnets are “better” schools and since

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enrollment in them is function parental initiative toward children’s upward mobility, the

conversation on magnets is likely to reinforce the idea that success in dire circumstances is primarily a function of private effort, talent, and motivation, and idea that insinuates compliance with the unfair status quo, regardless of whether the urban poor believes in it or not. In a district such as CMSD, magnets epitomize “equal opportunity” in the

American class hierarchy, while their enrollment pattern is largely a function of unequal conditions in terms of non-school endowments, particularly cultural capital.

Given the pattern of creaming in the urban school choice market, magnet schools and students in many urban districts have been more successful than regular schools in terms of academic outcomes. The findings from CMSD fit this pattern only in some ways, but refute it in others, mostly likely because of the effect of desegregation on the entire system in different time periods. These findings are presented in last two columns of Table 6.6 above from 1981 and on. The linear coefficients are from the second stage results of the TSLS procedure comparing regular (neighborhood and integrated) schools

to magnet schools. As before, the key coefficient here is the one for “Predicted

Single/No Parent” (CCAP in equation 4.2), which could be interpreted as the influence of

the lack of cultural capital on the organizational effectiveness of the school, as well as the mediated influence of the lack of economic and social capital on school effectiveness as depicted in Figure 3.2. The yearly pattern of this coefficient is shown in Figure 6.10 below.

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Figure 6.10 about here

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In 1981, the CCAP coefficient for magnet schools was 0.150 (p<0.050), indicating that one unit increase in the lack of cultural capital due specifically to the lack

of economic and social capital, increased the effectiveness of magnet schools in CMSD

in helping their students succeed. Although a small effect, this is consistent with the

great equalizer ideal. However, for the rest of the 1980s, the effect of the predicted lack

of cultural capital on magnet effectiveness was statistically non-significant, which

suggests that these schools neither hurt nor helped students with disadvantaged family

structures resulting from ecological problems. This was a period of low enrollment in

magnets (see Figure 6.9) as well as a steady progress in desegregation outcomes in

regular schools.

As seen in the Figure 6.10, the CCAP coefficient for regular public schools gradually increased throughout much of the 1980s, reaching 0.732 (p<0.050) in 1987. In this period, all regular public schools were racially integrated. With intensifying urban

deterioration in CMSD in the late 1980s (see Figures 6.5 through 6.8), the contribution of regular integrated schools to student success declined, reaching negative levels and losing

statistical significance. As noted earlier, this was also a time, when upwardly mobile

parents opted for magnets in greater numbers and CMSD started making plans for

expanding its magnet programs as the primary alternative to forced integration. Indeed,

starting in 1989, the CCAP coefficient for magnets became positive and maintained its

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significance till the late 1990s. For much of that resegregation period, the average CCAP

coefficient for magnet schools prevailed at an average of 0.300 (p<0.050), indicating that

the effectiveness of these schools increased as a result of decreases in the cultural capital

and the underlying economic and social capital available to their average student.

It is important to elaborate on the dynamics that bring this pattern about. As magnets cream the near-poor students in CMSD, each magnet school acquires considerable access to cultural capital and the underlying economic and social capital.

Thus, for those students who lack those social class endowments but nevertheless make it to a magnet school or for those who lose some of those endowments after enrolling in a magnet program, the school provides a superior peer structure as well as better resources, staff, and typically, an advanced curriculum—basically an affluent or near-affluent educational context—which facilitates success. For such students, magnets are great equalizers. This is what was happening in much of the 1990s in CMSD.

While magnets’ contribution to the success of students lacking cultural capital, as well as the underlying economic and social capital, remained positive, the effect of regular schools—which gradually transformed into neighborhood school as CMSD resegregated—took a turn for the negative. In 1995, one standard deviation unit increase in the predicted cultural capital of the average neighborhood school student, decreased the effectiveness of the school to help that student succeed by -0.258 (p<0.050) standard deviation units. By 1998, the same effect had dropped to -0.454 (p<0.050). Although the results were not broken down by race, they pertain largely to predominantly black minority students because CMSD was 70 percent black at the time. Simply put, once neighborhood schools were re-established, they hindered the life chances of the students

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who needed help the most, despite all the hope and high ideals that permeated the associated public discourse. Unlike magnets, neighborhood schools were highly

vulnerable to non-school problems—the very problems they were supposed to counteract

in order to level the playing field. Such contrast between neighborhood and magnet schools in the 1990s provides strong support to hypothesis 7.

6.2. Frame analysis on public discourse: 1993-1998

By the late 1980, the opportunity for manifest conflict around unfair educational

inequality had largely vanished in CMSD, as it had in most other urban school districts.

Top-down opportunity had never been at a considerable level given the decline in the

support of the federal diamond—the President, the Congress, the Senate, and most

importantly, the Supreme Court—for school desegregation and other matters of racial

equality and civil rights in the final decades of the 20 century. Bottom-up opportunity

had also been decreasing since the late 1960s as the predominantly white affluent resisted

and remained indifferent to school desegregation, as well as to many aspects of the Great

Society Programs that had addressed the non-school context.

Given the restriction that the 1974 Milliken ruling brought to the scope of urban school desegregation, the primary element of opportunity to openly contest the legitimacy of segregated neighborhood schools and to make unfair educational inequality a highly controversial issue, had been the bi-racial demographics of urban school districts.

CMSD, for instance, was 40 percent white in 1978, and close 50 percent white in 1975.

But, as the percentage of whites dropped with increased affluent (and near-affluent) flight

out of the district, not only desegregation became a harder policy implement, but also the

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opportunity to challenge unfair inequality diminished. The suburban affluent continued

to remain indifferent to the problem.

By the early 1990s, the preventative power of the predominantly white middle

and upper-middle class families in the greater Cleveland region was in full force. The agency—the actions, inactions, and choices—of the dominant group in race relations had finally restricted the opportunity for open contention to minimum levels. An effort that

had began in Cleveland in the mid-1960s with the Craggett case and attained partial

success with the Reed case in the mid-1970s and the 1980s had eventually lost its steam.

Potential grievances about separate and unequal schooling had become harder to voice.

However, the return to an unfair status quo rarely occurs in an abrupt fashion. It is a

gradual process that inevitably involves discursive justification.

Starting in 1993, the conversational space in CMSD was increasingly dominated

by the ordinary discourse on inequality. This was a false discourse that helped

institutionalize the concept of the neighborhood school and, at the same time, cloaked the

true nature of educational inequality in the greater Cleveland region. It accomplished this

by rendering the neighborhood school a deeply taken for granted organizational form,

one that is uncontested despite the ways in which it hinders the life chances of students at

CMSD, particularly the predominantly black minority students. The localist pattern of

social class disparity, which is intertwined with racial disparity, remains stabilized in

Cleveland. Failure in addressing this problem also stifles any potential effort to address

the even bigger problem of non-school deprivation.

The trajectory of the public discourse in CMSD during the 1990s reflects a clear

pattern of latent conflict and the politics of social construction critical for the

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maintenance of tranquil class relations regarding a seemingly intractable situation of

unfair educational inequality. At the social class level of analysis, the restricted

opportunity for invoking the critical discourse on inequality, a discourse constituted by collective action frames (injustice, agency, and identity), has allowed the ordinary discourse, one that is constituted by the conservative frames (justice, conformity, and commonality), to regain its salience.

Figure 6.11 shows the results of the frame analysis on the content of the

Cleveland Plain Dealer (CPD) articles and editorials concerning the topics of “schools” and “school desegregation” between 1993 and 1998. The ordinary discourse increasingly dominated the conversation space, occurring up to five times more frequently than the critical discourse did. This is a striking contrast to how polarized the discourse was in the 1970s, when the controversy around school desegregation heated up in CMSD. As sketched out in chapter 5, the NAACP and other activists frequently used collective action frames at the time, exposing the contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing in public education.

School desegregation in CMSD lost its feasibility in the early 1990s and failed to make the difference it once did in the early and mid-1980s. And, although the degree of inequality worsened, the critical discourse became inevitably dormant due to the restriction on opportunity for manifest conflict. The discursive pattern in Figure 6.11 supports hypothesis 8. It is not surprising that the frequency of the ordinary discourse steadily increased from 1993 to 1996, as this was the period when re-segregation needed justification the most. It was the period when the neighborhood school needed

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legitimation the most. Though, the ordinary discourse lost some thrust in the next two

years, it still remained highly salient.

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Figure 6.11 about here

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The discourse counts in the figure are yearly aggregations of the associated interpretive frames. The counts for each frame itself, on the other hand, are yearly aggregations of the keys or cues that comprise that comprise the frame (see Appendix B).

The most common frame in the 1993-1998 period was the conformity frame, promoting the idea that it is best to adapt to rather than challenge the status quo, that the path to success is mostly a function of innate talent and motivation, that traditional practices such as the neighborhood school are fundamentally appropriate but may need improvement, and that attempts at radical change are futile. Most often, the conformity frame appeared in utterances or speech acts related to “school improvement,” involving organizational development, teacher and administrative initiatives, or pedagogical changes in order to upgrade the neighborhood schools.

As Goffman (1974) pointed out, and movement scholars (e.g. Gamson 1992,

1995) have shown, when used effectively, a single frame can invoke an entire discourse or the comprehensive “cognitive template” it is associated with. Thus, all the frames related to a given discourse are mutually reinforcing. In this regard, the use of the

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conformity frame in CMSD was likely to insinuate the justice and commonality frames, and vice versa.

Although the particular actors that actually used interpretive frames and thus

populated the conversation space are not identified here, they mostly consisted of policy

makers, experts, school leaders, and city politicians. It is typical for such actors to talk about solutions more often than they do about problems. By addressing what needs to be done to solve the problem, they implicitly identify what the problem is. Goffman (1974) called this rim talk. In as troubled a district as CMSD, it is hardly surprising that most of the relevant actors preferred the conformity frame during a period of re-segregation. In some respects, this is a rational choice when class dynamics have restricted the opportunity for other approaches to inequality.

The justice frame was the second most frequent frame. That frame either denies unfairness or simply construes undue hardship as a “temporary imperfection” in the class system, one that is often accidental and could be remedied through incremental solutions.

In CPD, the justice frame typically appeared in two ways. First, it appeared in utterances that related academic success and/or failure to the traits and behavior of the student, the parent, or the community. Second, and more frequently, it appeared in utterances that identified abstract, actorless forces as the fundamental culprit concerning unfair inequality, forces that one cannot get mad at in ways that could spur collective action.

Most frequent examples of actorless forces in CMSD included the economy, housing patterns, and human nature (e.g., “resistance to change”).

The commonality frame was the third most common frame. This frame negates the existence of social classes or even races, and adopts the autonomous individuals as

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the basic unit actor. It also includes references to the entire social system or the relevant

community as an integrated whole, free of significant rifts and conflicts of group

interests. This is exactly how the frame appeared in CMSD in the 1990s as well. In

much of the conversation on the schools, individual children and parents were referred to

as the key actors responsible for problems and solutions. Collective references such as

“the Cleveland community,” “city residents,” “stakeholders,” and “the clients” were also

common. Explicit distinctions such as white v. black or affluent v. poor were almost

completely absent from the discourse.

The injustice, agency, and identity frames remained not only dormant but also

intermittent, never appearing frequently enough to gain traction. In their absence, an

entire symbolic universe emerged that reinforced the legitimacy of the separate and

unequal neighborhood schools. Given the nature of the frame analysis in this study, it

was possible to trace how the keys or cues associated with the neighborhood school

concept related to other elements in this symbolic universe. As discussed in chapter 4,

inquiry into the institutionalization of an organizational form must account for the

broader discourse surrounding that organizational form, what DiMaggio (1988) called the

“public theory” of the form.

To this end, a simple correlation test was conducted, the results of which are shown in Table 6.8. These are correlations between a specific pair of frame cues on the

one hand and all the rest of frame cues on the other (see Appendix B for all frame cue

definitions). The specific pair of cues that was of interest included CONF3 (“Traditional

practices in CMSD are preferable and/or must be maintained”) and CONF4 (“Traditional

practices may be in need of fixing or improvement”). The stem “CONF” denotes the

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conformity frame. These two cues appeared when the speaker either implicitly or

explicitly defended the neighborhood schools or advocated various strategies to improve

the effectiveness of the neighborhood schools in the 1990s. Thus, these two frame cues lexically referred to the neighborhood school concept. By correlating these two cues to other ones, it was possible to deduce a preliminary understanding of the discursive structure that surrounded the neighborhood school concept in a time of intensifying educational inequality.

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Table 6.8 about here

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Each coefficient in the table is the result of a correlation between the weekly counts of two separate cues in a particular year. For instance, the correlation between the weekly occurrences of CONF3 and INJ1 in 1993 was 0.160 but non-significant

(p>0.050), meaning that the increase or decrease in CONF3 during any of the 54 weeks in that year was unrelated to the increase of decrease in INJ1. The top (shaded) panel in

Table 6.8 shows correlations with injustice (INJ), agency (AGY), and identity (ID) frames. These frames were rarely correlated to CONF3 or CONF4. Even when the correlations were significant, they were small.

The key insights are found the lower panel. Both CONF3 and CONF4 were rather consistently, highly, and significantly correlated to JUST2a, JUST4, JUST5,

CONF2, CONF5, CONF6, CONF8a, COMM1, COMM4a, COMM4b, and COMM5.

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The stem “JUST” refers to the justice frame; “CONF,” as noted earlier, refers to the

conformity frame; and “COMM” refers the commonality frame. These correlations

indicate that when CONF3 or CONF4 appeared in a given week in a given year, so did

the other frames cues. In other words, they shed light on what other “thought elements”

the notion of the neighborhood school was most consistently associated with.

JUST2a refers to utterances that characterize academic success as primarily a function of the individual student’s innate talent and motivation. In certain years,

JUST2b was also correlated to CONF3 and CONF4, although not as consistently.

JUST2b represents utterances that characterize academic success as primarily a function

of the parent’s innate talent and motivation to help their children. JUST4 blames

actorless forces for inequality. JUST5 blames regulative problems in the district and/or

the schools. Simply put, whenever the explicit thought or the implicit perception of the

neighborhood school appeared in the weekly public discourse, so did the idea that the

student and the parent are ultimately responsible for success and that broad, unfortunate

factors as well as managerial or administrative problems were responsible for the

problems in education.

CONF2 had to do with praises for the ongoing innovation efforts in CMSD.

CONF5 referred to calls for regulative reforms (better leadership, better governance).

CONF6 referred to limited state assistance for those who seek more opportunity to

succeed, typically through school choice options such as magnet schools. CONF8a and

CONF8b involved explicit and implicit prescriptions for success to students and parents

respectively. Thus, whenever the notion of the neighborhood school appeared, so did the

idea that better district administration and school management were importation solutions

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to the prevailing problems, that the school choice market offered a way for those who

seek better avenues to success, and that the students and parents must try harder to succeed despite the dire circumstances.

COMM1 represented utterances that referred to CMSD as an integrated social

system, with no racial or class distinctions (the “Cleveland community”). COMM4a and

COMM4b had to do with utterances where the subject, the basic social actor, was the

student or the parent respectively. Therefore, whenever the notion of the neighborhood

school appeared in a weekly public discourse, so did the collective references to CMSD

as well as individualist references to the students and the parents.

While more rigorous tests are required to decipher the discursive dynamics in

CMSD, the correlations in Table 6.8 provide important clues as to the “public theory” of

segregated neighborhood schools in a deprived and isolated district such as the CMSD.

This organizational form was legitimated by means of a conversation that drew both

direct and subtle connections between the form itself and specific elements of the

ordinary discourse, such as the emphasis on private efforts toward social mobility, better

management of the schools, and the school choice market. It is important to note that

non-significant correlations in Table 6.8 may also have meaning. The lack of co-

occurrence may indicate that a particular frame cue may be sufficient enough to promote

the associated frame and the broader discourse with the need for an implicit or explicit

reference to the neighborhood school. However, this is a subject of further time series

analysis beyond the scope of this study.

Does the increasing salience of the ordinary discourse in CMSD denote

ideological indoctrination of the predominantly black poor? This study also falls short of

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answering this question. Yet, as discussed in chapter 4, whether the quiescence of the

subordinate group has to do with indoctrination or rational conformity is ultimately

irrelevant as to the exercise of preventative power and the subversion of subordinate

group interests. The rise of the ordinary discourse in context of (1) restricted opportunity

for manifest conflict, and (2) enduring, even deepening, unfair inequality denotes latent

conflict regardless of the true basis of subordinate group quiescence. The notion of the neighborhood school, which was once fiercely contested, has re-institutionalized in

CMSD, and in most other urban districts, without any manifest conflict at all, despite its inherently discriminatory nature and the non-school problems it magnifies. In Lukes’

(1974/2005) terms, this is a case of the “third face” of power, one where structural determinism had less of a role to play than did the agency of the dominant group, where there dominant group bears responsibility because it could have acted differently to help remedy the unfairness rather than allow it to worsen, and it was and still is in the interest of the subordinate group to demand radical change not only in terms of the dominant school form in American public education, but also in terms of the non-school context.

The unequivocal contradiction between the logics of public and private wellbeing in education remains concealed, at least in the public domain.

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CHAPTER 7

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION

Why is there no open controversy concerning unfair inequality in urban public education? Separate and unequal neighborhood schools and entrenched non-school problems, such as material impoverishment, neighborhood deterioration, and family dissolution are important drivers of educational inequality in a society that views public education as the “great equalizer.” The U.S. is distinct among modern liberal nations in its emphasis on relying on the public schools, rather than on large-scale welfare policies, in remedying undue hardship and leveling the playing field in a competitive class hierarchy. Yet, neither the issue of inferior schools nor the pattern of adversities outside the schools that poor and predominantly black children suffer form are currently discussed and resolved.

The key problem is the failure of the affluent, which is predominantly white but also includes blacks, to sacrifice their privileges. The agency—that is, the actions, inactions, and choices—of the affluent has restricted the opportunity for manifest conflict necessary to address and alleviate the problem of unfair educational inequality in urban areas. The interests of poor black and, in recent years, Hispanic children have therefore been subverted.

As in any modern society, public education in U.S. is affected by the logic of private wellbeing as well as the logic of public wellbeing. In other words, education is both an asset in the pursuit of individualist interests and a means to foster collective equality. Consequently, egalitarian ideals are perpetually confronted by competitive

372 conceptions of public education. A true paradox can never be resolved. Furthermore, it is typical and perhaps functionally beneficial for a social system to be governed by contradictory principals or logics (Friedland and Alford 1991; Rawls 1993). Yet, there is inherent value in striking a reasonable balance between contradictory logics and, most importantly, having the capacity to address situations where contradictions become extreme. For the failure to do so may undermine cherished principles to an extent where they lose their authenticity.

This is what has happened with regard to the “great equalizer” ideal in urban school districts. The affluent concern for private advantage has eclipsed the concern for public or collective wellbeing, making it difficult to pursue radical reforms that genuinely symbolized the “great equalizer” ideal. Such reforms were and still are threatening to the pattern of class privilege in American public education. The threat originates from two sources.

First, the public education system is localist, meaning local communities control and provide most of the tangible and intangible resources for their schools. As a result, the social class and racial composition of a community determines the quality and success of the schools in that community. At the heart of this configuration is the concept of the neighborhood school, an organizational form for structuring and allocating education such that students attend schools nearby where they live. The neighborhood school is one of oldest institutions in America. While localism in public education originally emerged out of America’s diversity, its citizen’s distrust of central government, and the strong preference for community control over the distribution of public goods

(Tyack 1974; Katz 1987; Mondale and Patton 2001), it has also been a major factor in the

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maintenance of educational and social inequality (Katznelson and Weir 1985). The

resistance to attempts at altering the localist pattern in light of more equitable alternatives

inevitably exposes the limits of the commitment to the collectivistic visions of public

education in America.

Urban school desegregation was such an attempt. It intended to equalize the

schools in different locations by replacing the neighborhood school with the integrated school. By so doing, it not only violated the unspoken pattern of privilege in education, but unveiled the class structure itself, perhaps more than any other reform did in the last

50 years. As Hochschild (1984) points out,

The second way in which the reforms shaped by the great equalizer ideal, such as

desegregation, threaten the pattern of class privilege in American public education has to

do with the disparities in the quality of life children experience outside the school, which

has profound consequences for education. In a free and liberal society, the life chances

of the individual are greatly influenced by the capacity of the family (Fishkin 1983;

Turner 1986; Dahrendorf 1988). The typical family transfers a considerable degree of

advantage and disadvantage to the child, which in turn influences individual mobility. A

good education is not the only asset in this regard. Non-school factors, particularly

economic, social, and cultural capital, are critical as well. In a localist system of public

education, these factors play a significant role in determining both the tangible and

intangible features of the school the child attends. More importantly, though, they

influence academic performance regardless of school quality, particularly for the poor.

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For instance, a disadvantaged student may attend a first class public school in an affluent location, which is likely to facilitate success, but only to a certain extent because problems outside the school are likely to continue to hinder the student’s achievement as well as attainment.

Urban school desegregation was controversial in part because it intended to nullify the role of the non-school context. For many affluent parents and students, the congruence between school quality and non-school class advantage was and still is critical. In a sense, the quality of a child’s non-school life amplifies the benefits of school quality. Therefore, severing the link between the school and the non-school context undermines the total package of social class endowments. Yet, this is exactly what the effect of urban school desegregation was. The effort to de-legitimize and replace the neighborhood school met with resistance and indifference because the majority of affluent families remained oriented by the logic of private wellbeing. This is understandable but unfortunate and unacceptable because it has helped create an extreme degree of inequality. While educational inequality is inevitable in any society, the extent of unfairness with regard to urban education in the U.S. has become extreme. What’s worse, there is no longer the necessary context for adequately vocalizing the problem and considering meaningful solutions. In a recent editorial, Merelman (2002) notes that

Racially integrated public schools have not become embedded in the foundation of American public policy. Nor do powerful claimant groups protect integrated schools. Indeed, even the policy’s intended beneficiaries—African Americans—no longer press energetically for it. In fact, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, which designed and executed the arduous legal strategy that won school desegregation in the courts, now has difficulty maintaining a public posture favorable to it against an indifferent and sometimes hostile membership. …

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Curiously, the failure of school integration has been met with deafening silence in the media. Even The New York Times’ highly praised series on race relations in America, which won a Pulitzer Prize in 2000, had little to say about integrated schools. It is a maxim of science that failed experiments teach us as much as successful experiments. Of course, politics isn’t a laboratory science. Still, it is surprising how little discussion and how few public intellectuals have taken on the topic of school integration’s failure. Surely, the most ambitious and idealistic domestic political undertaking of the last 50 years deserves better, at least a decent public burial, an autopsy, an obituary, even a eulogy, perhaps even a national requiem mass. (p. 52)

7.1. Contributions to theory and research

The key contribution of this dissertation is about the class politics of school desegregation. While the topic of school desegregation has been studied from various angles, the most frequent focus being on educational outcomes and demographic changes in desegregating districts, few scholars have addressed the dynamics that have rendered desegregation a non-issue in America. Gary Orfield and Jennifer Hochschild are important exceptions, because their work draws important connections between societal preferences, the workings of the pluralist polity, and race relations (e.g., Orfield 1969,

1978l; Orfield and Eaton 1996; Hochschild 1984; Hochschild and Skovronick 2003).

However, neither one explicitly address the trajectory of desegregation experience as a movement from manifest to latent conflict. The class dynamics that have restricted the opportunity for open controversy are a topic of research in their own right because neither the outcomes, nor the future of desegregation, or the future of any other radical policy for educational equality in the U.S. can be properly understood without due attention to the conditions that have subverted the interests of poor minorities in urban areas.

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This is why it is imperative to put urban school desegregation in historical context. The discussion in chapter 2 does that. It traces the process involving both the expansion and the restriction of the opportunity for manifest conflict around unfair educational inequality between the 1950s and the 1980s. To this day, there is a widespread assumption in America that separate and unequal schools were an exclusively

Southern problem largely because such schools were legally enforced in the rural South and the Border States. However, the Brown ruling involved cases originating from multiple locations, addressing the problem for both affluent and poor blacks. Both top- down sources of opportunity (support from the federal government) and the bottom-up sources (particularly the support of the white affluent in the North and the West) were pivotal in making school desegregation an important issue in the nation. These factors helped address and remedy unequal schooling in the South between the late 1950s and late 1960s. The changes that occurred at that time are still critical in maintaining high levels of integration in the South (Clotfelter 2004).

However, the opportunity for addressing the problem and pursuing remedies for unfair educational inequality began to decline in the late 1960s as the movement turned to the suffering of poor black children in the urban areas of the North. In less than a decade, both the federal support and the support from the predominantly white affluent for school desegregation (as well as other policies toward racial equality) declined. It not only became harder to pursue remedies, but also to voice the problems facing poor black children.

The structure of educational inequality in the urban areas of the North and the

West was different than that in the South. Not only were black schools inferior, but the

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majority of poor black children suffered from increasingly adverse non-school problems

in the growing ghettos. In other words, intentional discrimination in schooling was accompanied by severe class disadvantage outside the schools. Therefore, abolishing discriminatory laws or polices in schooling was an insufficient remedy. Urban poverty

had to be confronted, and for a brief period it was. Although President Johnson’s War on

Poverty was not an educational policy per se, it was designed to resolve key problems

such as low income, segregation, and family dissolution, which were critical from an

educational standpoint. At the time, school desegregation and the Great Society

programs promised not merely legal equality, but equal start to the many children, which

was vital for ameliorating cumulative social and economic disadvantages, something that

Brown had fallen short of doing (Balkin 2001).

However, as the War on Poverty was abandoned by the Nixon administration and school desegregation faced increasing resistance from the Congress, the Senate, and the majority of the middle and lower-middle class Americans, the prospects of pursuing comprehensive remedies for poor black children quickly diminished. This was the point where racial policies hit the class barrier (McAdam 1982). Although the Green,

Alexander, Swann, and Keyes rulings by the Supreme Court allowed the desegregation

controversy to continue, the Milliken ruling in 1974 undermined the effort in the long run.

At that point, it was apparent, even to the most dedicated proponents of the policy, such

as Thurgood Marshall, that the desegregation game would soon be over. This was

primarily a social class preference, though racial considerations must have played a role

as well.

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Had the predominantly white affluent not resisted or not remained indifferent to school desegregation, law makers and presidents who were unsupportive of school desegregation would not have been elected as easily. Nor would the Supreme Court become dominated by moderate and conservative judges. However, it is natural for the structure of the polity in a majoritarian democracy to reflect the preferences of the majority. In ending the nation’s longest running active school desegregation lawsuit (47 years) in Baton Rouge, LA, the U.S. District Judge James Brady recently paraphrased

William Faulkner and said that “at some point the law ends and people begin” (quoted in

Nossiter 2003, p. 1). While, public preferences do not determine the fate of every state policy, school desegregation depended heavily on affluent actions, inactions, and choices, because the extent to which private advantage ought to be sacrificed in order to restore a meaningful balance between the individual and collective principles underlying

American public education can never be fully legislated. It is ultimately a matter of societal capacity to live up to egalitarian ideals. And, that’s where urban school desegregation failed.

By the mid-1970s, the key element of opportunity that enabled leading social movement organizations (SMOs) such as the NAACP to continue openly challenging unfair educational inequality was the bi-racial demographics of the large city school systems. These systems still had a considerable proportion of middle and lower-middle class whites the pattern of suburbanization since the late 1950s. While it was likely that court-ordered desegregation would exacerbate suburbanization, among both affluent whites and blacks, historical experience suggested that little else would be done for poor

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black children unless desegregation was pursued, even to a limited degree and even

without concurrent policies addressing non-school problems.

Thus, the academic outcomes of urban school desegregation in the 1970s and

1980s must be evaluated in light of two important facts: (1) diminishing opportunity for

manifest conflict due to continued suburbanization, and (2) worsening non-school

problems. Under such conditions, it was unsurprising for school desegregation to fail its officially stated mission of integrated and equal education. However, desegregation in

urban areas was successful in that it achieved much of what it could in a context of

constant adversity. A mere “policy evaluation” approached does not justice in this

regard.

This dissertation makes two important contributions to the study desegregation outcomes. First, it conceptualizes and operationalizes educational performance as the

organizational effectiveness of the school to counteract non-school problems of the

student and facilitate success. This is related to but distinct from the common view of

achievement in terms of the individual student’s performance. The distinction is critical

because desegregation was an intervention in the organizational form of the schools

(replacing neighborhood schools with integrated schools), not an attempt change or

improve the student, whose success was likely to be undermined by non-school problems.

Most importantly, such an approach is squarely consistent with the great equalizer ideal,

which conceives of public schools as “organizations of salvation” that could compensate

for non-school class disadvantages and thus level the playing field for equal opportunity.

The question should, therefore, be whether desegregation made the urban public schools

more capable to counteract non-school problems. There is good reason to believe that it

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did, because it made schools equal not only in tangible terms, but, more importantly, in

intangible terms, by redistributing economic, social, and cultural capital across different

schools.

Education scholars have long known that segregated schools in urban areas fail to help students succeed largely because they concentrate the ill effects of poverty (see

Orfield and Ashkinaze 1991; Lippman et al. 1996; Anyon 1997). Schools are unique organizations in that they rely on certain non-school characteristics in their primary inputs (the students) in order to be effective in terms of their outputs (the students). Since

urban schools have little control over the non-school class endowments of their students,

a high concentration of poor students, from disorganized neighborhoods, and single- parent families tend to complicate the schools’ task. Mixing poor black students, with near-poor and affluent white students is a critical strategy to make the average urban

school more capable to help the average poor black student succeed.

In addition, evaluating the school’s effectiveness in helping students succeed is

deeply embedded in the genre of reform in American education policy and research. For

instance, the No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act of 2002 (which is the re-authorization of

the 1965 Elementary and Secondary Education Act), holds schools, not students,

accountable for student performance. It punishes or rewards the schools, not the students,

for levels of academic achievement as well as attainment (West and Peterson 2003). So,

why not view school desegregation in the same light? The difference is NCLB involves

little or no consideration of the non-school context, whereas desegregation did involve

such a consideration by virtue of the policy of racial mixing.

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The second contribution that this dissertation makes to the study of desegregation

outcomes has to do with its explicit emphasis on the influence of the non-school context

on school effectiveness. In fact, this contribution goes beyond the issue of desegregation

outcomes because it extends the relevant knowledge in the entire field of education

research and policy, where considerations of non-school problems have been relatively

rare and, have tended to focus on influences over student performance rather than on

school performance.

The common approach has been to correlate key non-school variables, such as income and family structure, to test scores or other individual achievement measures.

However, non-school factors ought to be accounted for in light of insights from the contemporary theories of poverty. This in turn requires going out of the literature on desegregation and bridging ideas from the sociology of education with those from the neo-ecological research on urban deprivation.

The sociology of education helps define the key components of the non-school context—economic capital (income and wealth), social capital (neighborhood quality), and cultural capital (parental effectiveness). Yet, no educational study has so far utilized these concepts in a way that captures the historically structured causal dynamics among them. Insights from the neo-ecologist research are useful in this regard (e.g., Wilson

1978, 1987, 1996; Massey and Denton 1993; Jargowsky 1997). The neo-ecological view is that the lack of economic and social capital undermines the cultural capital available to poor black children. This is a pattern that has become increasingly pronounced in the postwar decades. Prior to that, effective parenting among the black poor had helped alleviate the adverse effects of economic and neighborhood problems on the children and

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the schools to considerable extent. Double-parent, stable income families were a key resources for children’s success although the schools were subject to intentional

discrimination. Without adequate parenting, poor black children became increasingly

vulnerable to ecological effects, a pattern that Moynihan (1965) had called the “tangle of

pathology.” Simply put, family patterns began to aggravate broader effects in the postwar era.

The relationship of this particular dynamic to school effectiveness is depicted in the proposed model shown in Figure 3.2. The model bears on education research and theory regardless of desegregation, but it has a special relevance to urban school desegregation because that policy was implemented in a time of intense deterioration in the non-school context.

The hypotheses associated with the model were supported by the analysis of the

CMSD data. In essence, integrated schools were more effective than segregated neighborhood schools in counteracting non-school problems and helping minority students succeed. Although desegregation could not make the schools the ideal great equalizers that facilitated success, it was able to make them less sensitive to non-school problems. This pattern continued until non-school problems became extreme in the late

1980s (see Figures 6.5 through 6.8). As seen in Figure 6.4, the capacity of the schools to withstand non-school problems of minorities declined sharply in 1989 and remained so thereafter. Although, further analysis is required to study the exact dynamics that the decline involved, it is clear that the benefits of desegregation were nullified beyond a certain threshold in terms of non-school adversities.

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Over 20 years ago, Hochschild (1984) asserted that

Our policy-making system is profoundly fragmented. Even those who endorse school desegregation seldom make connections among schooling, housing, and employment; “the extent of mutual ignorance among officials is astonishing…. Actual coordination is virtually nonexistent” [Orfield 1975, p. 14-6]…. No one even tries to address the ties among “school change [and] municipal finance, jobs, housing, social services, transportation, human ties, and all other factors which determine the quality of life in local communities” [Chesler, Bryant, and Crowfoot 1981, p. 22]. Ignoring such ties, we continue to rely on single-dimensional busing plans to paper over racial discrepancies in wealth, physical location, prospects for the future and so on. We now know that busing plans by themselves cannot paper over, never mind reduce, these discrepancies, but fragmented incremental politics leads us to continue to battle over broad problems in separate, narrow arenas—with the result that none are really resolved. (p. 157)

Though she is correct, Hochschild’s assertion overlooks the fact school desegregation was able to make the schools more effective in counteracting non-school problems, at least as long as the extent of those problems remained below a certain threshold. Most importantly, the American experience with urban school desegregation must be interpreted in reference to the class dynamics that have prohibited not only the scope of desegregation, but also the policies that had targeted non-school problems. The degree of voice that the urban poor have had and the extent to which it could demand remedies, as well as the nature of those remedies, depended largely on the opportunity structure for manifest conflict. It would have been irrational to not pursue desegregation, even with the prospect of limited success, just because more comprehensive and promising options were unavailable. As noted in chapter 2, poor people’s movements must be judged not by their official proclamations, but on the basis of “what was possible in the first place” (Piven and Cloward 1979, p. xiii).

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The constraints that brought about the formal failure of urban school

desegregation, such as the urban sprawl, the exclusion of the suburbs from integration

plans, and the affluent dismay toward integrated schools, have often been interpreted by

the critics of desegregation as “evolutionary” or “natural” circumstances. This is not

necessarily true. From the point of view of the great equalizer ideal, those constraints

should have been addressed, as they once briefly were, while integration plans were

being implemented. But class dynamics precluded that. Therefore, class dynamics are

responsible for the failure of desegregation. Unfair educational inequality in urban

school systems is likely to remain an intractable problem as long as the affluent families

and students fail to make the necessary sacrifices in their privileges.

There is a growing trend in recent years among some scholars to argue that issue

of separate and unequal education must be resolved through “socioeconomic integration,”

strong neighborhood schools, cohesive communities, increased public support for

schools, and local control in minority areas (e.g., Caldas and Bankston III 2005). How

could these be achieved under current conditions of urban deterioration? There has been

very little, if any, progress in these areas since the end of the desegregation era. No urban community has thrived socioeconomically or in terms of positive cohesiveness and political efficacy in the last 20 years. If anything, urban deterioration worsened, expect for a brief period of progress in the prosperous 1990s. This is hardly surprising given the entrenched cycle of poverty that is unlikely to be broken without comprehensive, long-

term initiatives administered zealously by the federal government and backed by popular

support. However, historical experience suggests that such initiatives are doubtful

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without significant opportunity for manifest conflict, which, once again, is inherently

associated with class relations.

Another important contribution of this dissertation to theory and research is its

account of discursive patterns under conditions of restricted opportunity for manifest

conflict. It is untenable to pursue meaningful solutions to an important problem when the

problem cannot be adequately voiced by those who suffer from it. The neo-institutional

theory of organizations is instrumental in exposing this dynamic. In return, insights

about the class dynamics regarding school desegregation help extend the institutionalist

approach by incorporating the idea of latent conflict.

The concept of the neighborhood school was re-institutionalized in the 1990s and

remains a deeply taken-for-granted organizational form. There is very little, if any,

challenge to the idea that students should attend schools nearby where they live, no matter how disadvantaged they are and how inferior their schools may be. While this may appear as an apolitical situation characterized by genuine consensus regarding the legitimacy of the neighborhood schools, it is not. The problem is that, despite its social

constructionist foundations, institutionalism ascribes to a behaviorist view of power,

customarily looking for manifest conflict in order to identify and examine politics. What

if a discriminatory organizational form remains legitimate simply because the dominant

group has restricted the opportunity for the subordinate group to openly contest the

legitimacy of that organizational form? Such an exercise of preventative power is just as

common in social relations as other, more visible types of power are. In order to explain

latent conflict, institutional theory must incorporate a non-behaviorist view of power—

386 drawing particularly from Steven Lukes’ (1974) conception of the “third face” of power—as well as the class level of analysis, as opposed to an inter-organizational one.

The analysis of discursive data in CMSD indicates that, in the absence of opportunity for open contention, a false discourse has become dominant, cloaking the true nature of inequality. This discourse not only endorses the concept of the neighborhood school, but constitutes an entire sociology of knowledge that portrays unfair inequality as fair. The uncontestedness of the neighborhood school further limits the chances for effectively addressing non-school problems because the neighborhood school was and still the key “object” that helps articulate the issue of unfair educational inequality. In other words, the legitimacy of the neighborhood school facilitates the uncontestedness of extreme non-school problems. This is natural in a system where schools are viewed as magical organizations that could compensate for non-school problems. As long as neighborhood schools are treated as inherently capable of functioning as great equalizers—provided that these schools will be improved by means of incremental reforms such as the competition from the school choice market, organizational development interventions, and governance initiatives—why consider the non-school problems at all? In Bell’s (1979) words, “Although the problems and solutions originate outside the schools, the schools take the brunt of fixing and implementing them” (p. 72). It is only when the inherently discriminatory nature of the neighborhood school is exposed that the relevance of the extent of non-school problems can be exposed. This is why the taken-for-grantedness of the neighborhood school is critical in the maintenance of the pattern of social class privilege in public education.

The lack of opportunity for manifest conflict has fostered a distorted reality.

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Is the contemporary discourse ideology? While this question is theoretically

irrelevant for the study of latent conflict, it is highly likely that the discourse is not

ideological in the Marxist sense. The fact that a discourse about a pressing social problem is false does not necessarily mean that it is fully internalized and embraced by

those who suffer from that problem. The notion of ideology implies that poor minorities

in urban areas blame themselves for their plight, approve of the concept of the

neighborhood school, genuinely believe in recent reforms, such as choice and school

improvement would, and do not hold the affluent responsible for their suffering or the

required remedies. While the prevailing discourse must have some of these effects, it is

more likely that the discourse has a “face saving” function for the affluent. In other words, the prevailing discourse is more for affluent consumption than for the cognitive

manipulation of the poor. In his classic, Symbolic Uses of Politics, Murray Edelman

(1964) had noted that while success in achieving mass political goals often leads to more demands of the same kind, “failure leads to the abandonment of the goal or to more modest objectives” (p. 162). It would a big stretch of the imagination to interpret contemporary quiescence regarding unfair educational inequality as a consequence of ideological control.

7.2. Contributions to policy

Big problems require big solutions. Unequal education in urban school systems is a big problem. Although contemporary reforms are important and must continue, they

constitute a small solution. School desegregation was an important attempt to solve the

problem of unfair educational inequality. Ironically as limited as its scope was, it was

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more radical than were many alternatives that came before it and after it. The policy implications of this study are straightforward: (1) desegregation worked and it still can,

but (2) desegregation should not be implemented without equally comprehensive

remedies that address non-school problems. Both are challenging issues, and both failed

the first they were tried largely because they violated class prerogatives in education in

particular and in childrearing in general.

However, in an era of restricted opportunity to adequately voice the problem,

biases against desegregation and potential initiatives to alleviate non-school problems

prevail. Desegregation is generally considered a harmful and “adventurous” policy that contributed to urban decay, while non-school problems are treated as too broad to even try to resolve. Neither view is tenable. As Orfield (1996b) points out, “Each generation is a prisoner of its own experience, viewing its dominant ideas and politics as the natural result of the growth of knowledge” (p. 50).

Desegregation was a progressive policy consistent with egalitarian ideals, a policy that may not have failed the way it did were it not for the exercise of preventative power in the class hierarchy. Likewise, non-school problems could have been remedied to a considerable degree if only class dynamics did not hinder large-scale, long term polices designed to revitalize the industrial base of the cities, foster racial and socioeconomic housing integration, and promote affluent-style family stability.

In making the case for his Great Society programs in the late-1960s, President

Lyndon B. Johnson argued that:

Jobs are part of the answer. They bring income which permits a man to provide for his family. Decent homes in decent surroundings and a chance to learn—and equal chance to learn—are part of the answer. Welfare and social programs better designed to hold families together are part of the

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answer. Care for the sick is part of the answer. An understanding heart by all Americans is another big part of the answer. (quoted in Sitkoff 1993, p. 234)

But, non-school policies are inherently difficult and require enduring commitment on the part of policymakers, politicians, and the public. Their positive effects cannot be observed in a short period. Jencks and Philips (1998), who are two of the leading experts on the issue of the academic achievement gap, note that, given the nature of the historically accumulated deprivation in urban areas, even when black families matched whites in years of schooling and income,

it can take more than one generation for successful families to adopt the “middle-class” parenting practices that seem most likely to increase children’s cognitive skills…. It could take several generations before reductions in socioeconomic inequality produce their full benefits. (quoted in Irons 2002, p. 343)

In essence, policy choices come down to the societal capacity to tolerate the costs and sacrifices to help restore the authenticity of the great equalizer ideal in public education. As challenging as desegregation and non-school remedial policies are, they

are the only way to turn urban education around if equality is to be pursued. Elected

politicians in a strong democracy such as the U.S. are often hesitant to address policies

that are perceived to be costly—both in material and social terms. However, the problem

with desegregation or potential non-school remedial policies is not cost, it is tolerance.

For example, Richard Rothstein (2004) argues that additional healthcare,

childcare (including parental counseling), after-school, and summer-school programs

may begin to compensate for some of the non-school problems that urban children face

and should therefore be permanently included in the current reform policies. Although

these programs fall short in addressing the root causes of urban poverty (such as

390 joblessness and neighborhood decay), they are a start in the right direction. Providing these services to urban students would result in about $12,500 per pupil, over and above the $8,000 already being spent. In total, this means nearly $156 billion added annual national cost for public education, which is only about two-thirds of the average annual cost of federal tax cuts enacted since 2001. So if Americans truly wanted to start eradicating the extreme class disparities that help maintain the educational achievement gap, it is technically possible to do so. A social and cognitive re-orientation regarding the problem is more urgent then the potential concern with the economic costs involved.

One thing is clear though: the time of race-conscious policies is over. Whatever remedies are pursued, those defined and designed in explicit reference to race are likely to fail quickly. Although desegregation was and still is important, the character of the problem had changed over the last three decades as poor whites, Hispanics, and other groups have also been suffering from urban poverty. Moreover, racial policies often foster anti-discrimination measures that do nothing more than freeze cumulative disadvantages into place. Such an approach “sanctifies and disguises the many forms of subordination that do not result from direct racial classification and equate attempts to ameliorate subordination with attempts to preserve it” (Balkin 2001, p. 13). Therefore, a more class-centered approach is necessary, a unified campaign against all aspects of urban poverty regardless of skin color or ethnicity. Yet, at risk of being pessimistic, it is important to note that such a movement would face tremendous obstacles in an era of restricted opportunity for manifest conflict. Perhaps the most important political insight to be gained from urban desegregation story is that the conditions that help the poor challenge inequality not entirely under the control of the poor.

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TABLES

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Table 5.1 Yearly Change in Population and Racial Composition of the Student Bodya All Year Students Whites Minorities Blacks Hispanics Asians Other 1978 109482 40125 64868 3637 469 383 (0.37) (0.59) (0.03) (0.00) (0.00) 1979 94427 30771 59392 3434 539 291 (0.33) (0.63) (0.04) (0.01) (0.00) 1980 88075 25781 57782 3608 643 261 (0.29) (0.66) (0.04) (0.01) (0.00) 1981 78604 21409 52998 3327 652 218 (0.27) (0.67) (0.04) (0.01) (0.00) 1982 78555 21276 53010 3346 714 209 (0.27) (0.67) (0.04) (0.01) (0.00) 1983 76849 20740 51790 3369 748 202 (0.27) (0.67) (0.04) (0.01) (0.00) 1984 72077 18580 49289 3297 724 187 (0.26) (0.68) (0.05) (0.01) (0.00) 1985 71097 17947 48839 3391 742 178 (0.25) (0.69) (0.05) (0.01) (0.00) 1986 70218 17045 48836 3377 785 175 (0.24) (0.70) (0.05) (0.01) (0.00) 1987 69197 16316 48402 3499 811 169 (0.24) (0.70) (0.05) (0.01) (0.00) 1988 69330 16114 48459 3735 853 169 (0.23) (0.70) (0.05) (0.01) (0.00) 1989 68050 15788 47198 3957 927 180 (0.23) (0.69) (0.06) (0.01) (0.00) 1990 68063 15742 46884 4288 946 203 (0.23) (0.69) (0.06) (0.01) (0.00) 1991 69220 15887 47468 4648 949 268 (0.23) (0.69) (0.07) (0.01) (0.00) 1992 68245 15244 47110 4712 890 289 (0.22) (0.69) (0.07) (0.01) (0.00) 1993 68423 15118 47247 4888 848 322 (0.22) (0.69) (0.07) (0.01) (0.00) 1994 69719 14826 48532 5220 791 350 (0.21) (0.70) (0.07) (0.01) (0.01) 1995 70445 14473 49424 5412 771 365 (0.21) (0.70) (0.08) (0.01) (0.01) 1996 71384 14612 50014 5615 736 407 (0.20) (0.70) (0.08) (0.01) (0.01) 1997 72258 14566 50740 5778 710 464 (0.20) (0.70) (0.08) (0.01) (0.01) 1998 74634 14981 52340 6100 667 546 (0.20) (0.70) (0.08) (0.01) (0.01) a Percentages are in parantheses.

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Table 5.2 Keys/Cues Associated with Collective Action and Conservative Frames

Critical Discourse Ordinary Discourse

Logics of public and private wellbeing are in contradiction. Logics of public and private wellbeing are in harmony. There is no equality of opportunity, because no There is equality of opportunity. equality of condition.

Collective Action Frames Conservative Frames [Undermining the Status Quo] [Defending/Reinforcing the Status Quo]

Injustice Justice

• The hierarchy is unfair. Discriminatory practices • The hierarchy is essentially fair. Talent and motivation are generate unequal conditions for mobility. key to mobility. • There are systemic obstacles to the free and full • Unfair inequality is a “temporary imperfection” in the use of talent and motivation and/or their proper maintenance of equal opportunity. cultivation. • It is due to accidents or abstract, actorless forces. No one is • The dominant group and/or its agents are to to blame, certainly not the practices associated with social blame for the discriminatory practices and the mobility. associated problems in the class hierarchy. • Help is available for the unfortunate. They are responsible for the suffering as well as the necessary remedies.

Agency Conformity

• Change is necessary and possible. We can make history. • Adapt to the hierarchy, even if it is temporarily imperfect. • The solution to unfairness is outside the victims, • The solution to undeserved hardship is ultimately inside its whose failure in the class hierarchy results from victims. Unequal conditions are not extensive and unequal conditions. entrenched enough to overwhelm talent and motivation for • Discriminatory practices must be replaced by success. remedial ones. • Limited assistance by the state or other benevolent actors is sufficient to beat the odds. Such assistance shall involve efforts to amend or augment contested practices, not to replace them. • Attempts at radical change are futile. They may jeopardize ongoing progress and have several perverse effects.

Identity Commonality

• ‘Us v. them!’ • Society is an integrated whole. • ‘We’ are a group that suffers from a shared injury, • We are all autonomous individuals with similar prospects, a common history, a destiny and a purpose. rights, and privileges. • All of us should all transcend our private concerns • Certain individuals and groups may be disadvantaged due to and needs, and act collectively toward a desired future. their collective traits that hinder personal success. They do not contradict the general pattern of commonality. They are unfortunate exceptions due to their inferiority. • Real hardship affects us all. We are all in it together, at all levels of the hierarchy.

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Tabe 6.1 Yearly Means of Key Measures on Non-School Deprivation and Educational Inequality in CMSD by Race: 1978-1998a

Lack of Cultural Capital Lack of Economic Capital Lack of Social Capital-1 Lack of Social Capital-2 Single or no Eligibility for free or Personal crime level Minority concentration parent family reduced lunch at school at residential location at residential location

All All All All Year Students Whites Minorities Students Whites Minorities Students Whites Minorities Students Whites Minorities 1978 0.532 0.390 0.614 0.923 0.891 0.942 1532.877 1100.000 2348.873 0.596 0.063 0.899 1979 0.564 0.424 0.632 0.936 0.905 0.951 3247.915 1901.931 3882.913 0.633 0.071 0.898 1980 0.587 0.438 0.649 0.944 0.915 0.956 3071.999 2265.923 3406.145 0.655 0.079 0.894 1981 0.612 0.469 0.666 0.940 0.908 0.952 3506.745 2274.123 3964.996 0.675 0.086 0.894

395 1982 0.631 0.491 0.682 0.946 0.921 0.956 2940.435 1949.232 3307.338 0.675 0.090 0.891 1983 0.641 0.501 0.693 0.951 0.923 0.961 2617.276 1838.765 2903.713 0.674 0.094 0.888 1984 0.657 0.517 0.706 0.967 0.949 0.973 2741.250 1934.132 3021.895 0.683 0.106 0.884 1985 06700.670 05260.526 07180.718 09680.968 09510.951 09740.974 2947.683 683 2233.948 948 3188.467 467 06870.687 01140.114 08800.880 1986 0.675 0.526 0.722 0.975 0.962 0.979 3483.804 2726.631 3726.379 0.694 0.122 0.878 1987 0.684 0.535 0.730 0.975 0.962 0.979 3583.820 2812.964 3821.341 0.698 0.131 0.873 1988 0.692 0.544 0.737 0.974 0.956 0.979 4136.520 3208.307 4417.225 0.698 0.138 0.867 1989 0.697 0.548 0.741 0.965 0.946 0.971 4772.388 3709.339 5093.440 0.693 0.145 0.858 1990 0.702 0.556 0.746 0.964 0.946 0.970 5500.583 4366.244 5841.553 0.688 0.151 0.849 1991 0.700 0.548 0.746 0.964 0.945 0.969 5682.552 4543.677 6021.436 0.684 0.157 0.841 1992 0.703 0.546 0.749 0.962 0.946 0.966 5238.604 4294.252 5509.869 0.688 0.162 0.840 1993 0.707 0.545 0.753 0.970 0.957 0.974 5363.736 4498.027 5608.914 0.689 0.172 0.835 1994 0.713 0.548 0.757 0.974 0.958 0.978 5361.406 4608.832 5564.125 0.695 0.188 0.831 1995 0.718 0.553 0.760 0.954 0.925 0.961 6249.519 5365.176 6477.782 0.700 0.205 0.828 1996 0.724 0.562 0.766 0.958 0.930 0.966 5985.345 5207.304 6185.216 0.697 0.219 0.820 1997 0.728 0.566 0.769 0.955 0.923 0.963 6397.697 5722.968 6567.580 0.701 0.230 0.820 1998 07290.729 05660.566 07700.770 09580.958 09270.927 09660.966 5470.369 369 4736.486 486 5654.380 380 07000.700 02400.240 08160.816

a Means are based on percentages except for Social Capital-1 (Personal Crime Level at Residential Location) which is measured on a scale of 0 to 100,000. Table 6.1—continued Yearly Means of Key Measures on Non-School Deprivation and Educational Inequality in CMSD by Race: 1978-1998 a Minor ity CConcen ttra tition Minor ity CConcen ttra tition PtCttiPoverty Concentration around the School within the School within the School Percent minority Percent minority Percent eligible for free or residing at school location enrolled in school reduced lunch enrolled in school All All All Year Students Whites Minorities Students Whites Minorities Students Whites Minorities 1978 0. 553 0. 061 0. 838 0. 634 0. 195 0. 887 0. 923 0. 900 09370.937 1979 0.561 0.232 0.720 0.674 0.402 0.805 0.936 0.916 0.945 1980 0.527 0.478 0.548 0.707 0.688 0.715 0.944 0.944 0.944

396 1981 0.526 0.479 0.543 0.728 0.696 0.739 0.940 0.938 0.940 1982 0.542 0.485 0.563 0.729 0.695 0.742 0.946 0.946 0.947 1983 0.545 0.490 0.566 0.730 0.696 0.743 0.951 0.949 0.951 1984 0.551 0.499 0.570 0.742 0.708 0.754 0.967 0.967 0.967 1985 0.561 0.505 0.580 0.748 0.711 0.760 0.968 0.966 0.969 1986 0.568 0.503 0.589 0.757 0.716 0.770 0.975 0.973 0.976 1987 0.576 0.508 0.597 0.764 0.721 0.778 0.975 0.975 0.975 1988 0.584 0.514 0.605 0.768 0.727 0.780 0.974 0.972 0.974 1989 0.595 0.528 0.616 0.768 0.729 0.780 0.965 0.964 0.966 1990 0.604 0.533 0.626 0.769 0.726 0.782 0.964 0.961 0.965 1991 0.600 0.526 0.622 0.770 0.727 0.783 0.964 0.960 0.965 1992 0.605 0.518 0.629 0.777 0.728 0.791 0.962 0.960 0.963 1993 0.614 0.470 0.655 0.779 0.690 0.804 0.970 0.967 0.971 1994 0.606 0.443 0.650 0.787 0.695 0.812 0.974 0.971 0.975 1995 0.627 0.403 0.685 0.795 0.646 0.833 0.954 0.942 0.957 1996 0.633 0.321 0.713 0.795 0.566 0.854 0.958 0.945 0.962 1997 0.643 0.303 0.728 0.798 0.544 0.863 0.955 0.940 0.959 1998 0.644 0.292 0.732 0.799 0.533 0.866 0.958 0.942 0.962 a Means are based on percentages. Table 6.2 Yearly Descriptives for the Organizational Effectiveness of CMSD Schools by Race and Type: 1978-1998a All Schools Regular Schools Magnet Schools All Students Whites Minorities All Students Whites Minorities All Students Whites Minorities Year Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. Mean Std. Dev. 1978 -0.804 0.241 -0.869 0.243 -0.767 0.232 -0.804 0.241 -0.869 0.243 -0.767 0.232 1979 -0.427 0.108 -0.438 0.130 -0.422 0.095 -0.427 0.108 -0.438 0.130 -0.422 0.095 1980 -0.629 0.105 -0.656 0.106 -0.618 0.102 -0.629 0.105 -0.656 0.106 -0.618 0.102 1981 -0.490 0.169 -0.504 0.192 -0.485 0.159 -0.486 0.164 -0.494 0.182 -0.483 0.156 -0.429 0.109 -0.442 0.145 -0.424 0.090 1982 -0.489 0.175 -0.514 0.206 -0.480 0.160 -0.486 0.172 -0.509 0.201 -0.478 0.159 -0.438 0.120 -0.449 0.150 -0.434 0.107

397 1983 -0.455 0.176 -0.478 0.212 -0.446 0.160 -0.455 0.177 -0.479 0.213 -0.445 0.161 -0.415 0.113 -0.418 0.133 -0.414 0.106 1984 -0.427 0.194 -0.450 0.243 -0.419 0.174 -0.425 0.197 -0.451 0.245 -0.415 0.176 -0.392 0.100 -0.391 0.131 -0.393 0.089 1985 -0.389 0.202 -0.411 0.252 -0.382 0.182 -0.387 0.203 -0.413 0.252 -0.378 0.182 -0.366 0.102 -0.354 0.115 -0.369 0.098 1986 -0.362 0.239 -0.363 0.288 -0.362 0.221 -0.364 0.245 -0.370 0.292 -0.362 0.227 -0.320 0.112 -0.306 0.133 -0.324 0.104 1987 -0.324 02450.245 -0.307 0.284 -0.329 0.231 -0.322 0.250 -0.309 02860.286 -0.326 02370.237 -0.292 01280.128 -0.268 01400.140 -0.299 01240.124 1988 -0.275 0.252 -0.251 0.287 -0.282 0.240 -0.267 0.254 -0.247 0.286 -0.274 0.242 -0.280 0.166 -0.270 0.210 -0.283 0.150 1989 -0.206 0.206 -0.175 0.234 -0.216 0.196 -0.201 0.205 -0.172 0.231 -0.210 0.195 -0.196 0.168 -0.154 0.186 -0.207 0.161 1990 -0.190 0.225 -0.152 0.250 -0.201 0.216 -0.186 0.229 -0.150 0.253 -0.197 0.220 -0.172 0.161 -0.121 0.179 -0.184 0.154 1991 -0.140 0.209 -0.098 0.225 -0.153 0.202 -0.140 0.209 -0.098 0.223 -0.153 0.203 -0.092 0.173 -0.040 0.182 -0.105 0.168 1992 -0.105 0.199 -0.060 0.213 -0.118 0.192 -0.106 0.201 -0.058 0.215 -0.121 0.194 -0.064 0.170 -0.022 0.170 -0.074 0.168 1993 -0.092 0.216 -0.034 0.211 -0.108 0.215 -0.099 0.229 -0.032 0.216 -0.120 0.229 -0.045 0.166 0.002 0.170 -0.054 0.164 1994 -0.095 0.258 -0.027 0.249 -0.114 0.257 -0.104 0.280 -0.026 0.260 -0.126 0.281 -0.053 0.183 0.008 0.191 -0.065 0.178 1995 -00690.069 02550.255 -00050.005 0.242 -00860.086 0.255 -00700.070 0.271 -00070.007 02580.258 -00870.087 02730.273 -00430.043 01870.187 0.034 01610.161 -00600.060 01870.187 1996 -0.049 0.256 0.015 0.239 -0.065 0.258 -0.052 0.274 0.014 0.253 -0.070 0.277 -0.007 0.170 0.050 0.160 -0.018 0.169 1997 -0.037 0.246 0.029 0.223 -0.053 0.249 -0.036 0.264 0.028 0.232 -0.054 0.270 -0.010 0.176 0.067 0.172 -0.025 0.173 1998 -0.019 0.246 0.052 0.226 -0.037 0.248 -0.022 0.260 0.050 0.233 -0.041 0.263 0.012 0.184 0.115 0.161 -0.006 0.182

a Means and standard deviations are based on unstandardized coefficients obtained from the fixed-effects model shown in equation 1 (see chapter 5). Table 6.3 Results of Granger Causality Tests to Examine the Relationship of Cultural Capital with Economic Capital and Social Capital within Selected Intervals a,b,c,d 1983 →1979 1988 →1984 F χ2 F χ2

CCAP = ΣβCCAP + ΣλECAP Pair 1 Lag Lag 30.166*** 9.410** Block 1 CCAP = ΣβCCAPLag Pair 2 ECAP = ΣβECAPLag + ΣλCCAPLag 12.128** 0.630 ECAP = ΣβECAPLag CCAP = ΣβCCAP + ΣλSCAP1 Pair 1 Lag Lag 23.983*** 7.820* Block 2 CCAP = ΣβCCAPLag Pair 2 SCAP1 = ΣβSCAP1Lag + ΣλCCAPLag 0.590 2.428 1.314 5.264 SCAP1 = ΣβSCAP1Lag CCAP = ΣβCCAP + ΣλSCAP2 10.773** 14.042** Pair 1 Lag CCAP = ΣβCCAP Block 3 Lag SCAP2 = ΣβSCAP2 + ΣλCCAP Pair 2 Lag 1.430 5.896 2.709** 9.845** SCAP2 = ΣβSCAP2Lag

1993 →1989 1998 →1994 F χ2 F χ2

CCAP = ΣβCCAP + ΣλECAP 9.967** 7.361* Pair 1 Lag Lag CCAP = ΣβCCAP Block 1 Lag ECAP = ΣβECAP + ΣλCCAP Pair 2 Lag Lag 0.007 1.833 ECAP = ΣβECAPLag CCAP = ΣβCCAP + ΣλSCAP1 25.688*** 18.489*** Pair 1 Lag Lag CCAP = ΣβCCAP Block 2 Lag SCAP1 = ΣβSCAP1 + ΣλCCAP Pair 2 Lag Lag 0.167 0.669 1.290 5.164 SCAP1 = ΣβSCAP1Lag CCAP = ΣβCCAP + ΣλSCAP2 12.063*** 7.910* Pair 1 Lag CCAP = ΣβCCAP Block 3 Lag SCAP2 = ΣβSCAP2 + ΣλCCAP 2.249** 8.011** 1.291 5.169 Pair 2 Lag SCAP2 = ΣβSCAP2Lag

a CCAP: Lack of Cultural Capital (1=Single or no parent family); ECAP: Lack of Economic Capital (1=Eligibility for free or reduced lunch); SCAP1: Lack of Social Capital-1 (Personal crime level at residential location); SCAP2: Lack of Social Capital-2 (Minority concentration at residential location). b Coefficients for postulated exogenous variables are labeled as 'λ' in the regression models. c For models where CCAP or ECAP is the binomial left hand side variable, Granger tests were based on a χ2 score instead of an F score. The null hypothesis for the χ2 score—'all coefficients ( λs) are equal to zero for the postulated exogenous variables represented with the Lag subscript'—is the same as that for an F score, which is suitable for Granger tests on models models with linear left hand side variables, such as SCAP1 and SCAP2. In blocks two and three where one pair of models has binomial left hand side variables and the other has linear ones, the F score for the latter pair was converted to an asymptotically equivalent χ2 score in order to appropriately compare the Granger tests for the two pairs. The conversion was

obtained by the following formula: [N(SSE0-SSE1)]/SSE1], where N is the sample size and SSE1 and SSE0 correspond to the sum of squared errors from the first and second models repsectively in the pair. All χ2 scores were obtained by using the TEST command under the PROC LOGISTIC procedure with PROBIT link function in SAS 9.1. All F scores were obtained by using the TEST command under the PROC REG procedure in SAS 9.1. d The sample for each interval included students that (1) had double-parent families a year prior to the start of the interval, and (2) remained in the district throughout the whole interval. The range of sample sizes for the block-pair models in the intervals were as follows: 1983 →1979: [14500-15500], 1988 →1984: [9600-9800], 1993 →1989: [8000-8100], 1998 →1994: [7800-7900]. The variation in sample sizes across the across the intervals was due to the gradual decrease in the number of double-parent families in the district. The variation within the intervals had to do with the the problem of missing values for variables included in the analyses in the particular intervals. *** Significant at p<0.010 level. ** Significant at p<0.050 level. * Significant at p<0.100 level.

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Table 6.4 Lagged Bivariate Correlations of Cultural Capital with Economic Capital and Social Capital in Selected Intervalsa

CCAP↔ECAP† CCAP↔SCAP1†† CCAP↔SCAP2†† (A) (B) (A) (B) (A) (B)

Lag Time Interval (A↔BLag) (B↔ALag) (A↔BLag) (B↔ALag) (A↔BLag) (B↔ALag)

0 1983 →1983 0.075 0.075 0.090 0.090 0.045 0.045 1 1983 →1982 0.082 0.066 0.087 0.081 0.043 0.044 2 1983 →1981 0.078 0.052 0.100 0.069 0.050 0.037 3 1983 →1980 0.074 0.044 0.091 0.060 0.045 0.031 4 1983 →1979 0.074 0.030 0.098 0.047 0.045 0.026 0 1988 →1988 0.016 0.016 0.043 0.043 0.008 0.008 1 1988 →1987 0.024 0.007 0.038 0.035 0.006 0.006 2 1988 →1986 0.025 0.004 0.037 0.023 0.004 0.002 3 1988 →1985 0.031 0.001 0.053 0.023 0.007 0.003 4 1988 →1984 0.036 0.001 0.042 0.014 0.008 0.001 0 1993 →1993 0.035 0.035 0.034 0.034 0.002 0.002 1 1993 →1992 0.032 0.031 0.040 0.022 0.005 0.002 2 1993 →1991 0.029 0.025 0.048 0.033 0.005 0.002 3 1993 →1990 0.048 0.027 0.044 0.029 0.006 0.002 4 1993 →1989 0.035 0.021 0.051 0.032 0.006 0.001 0 1998 →1998 0.008 0.008 0.043 0.043 0.012 0.012 1 1998 →1997 0.023 0.011 0.051 0.041 0.017 0.013 2 1998 →1996 0.023 0.007 0.046 0.040 0.021 0.005 3 1998 →1995 0.040 0.000 0.059 0.035 0.011 0.001 4 1998 →1994 0.019 0.004 0.052 0.033 0.029 0.003

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444 445 446 APPENDICES

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Appendix A: Student Enrollment Patterns

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Appendix B: Codebook for Frame Cues

[s]=strong form [w]=weak from

451

JUST1: The hierarchy is fair.

Description:

Statements or comments regarding the fairness of the school system. This may be conveyed by means of favorable statements or comments regarding a particular school or a set of individual schools rather than the entire school system, but this is rarely the case.

Indicators: a. Praise to the general state of the schools.

“This is a leading school system in terms of its innovative projects and the emphasis on educational success.” [s] ------

“We attend to the needs of all our students, to make sure they succeed to the best extent possible.” [s] b. Emphasis on the positive goals of the school system.

“Empowering our students to succeed in this world implies that we will not just prepare them for jobs but we will educate them to be life-long learners and enlightened citizens.” [s] ------

Kate Monter, the mother of two Cleveland pupils, said the plan gives pupils and parents the kind of opportunities they've been requesting for years. "It's apparent that this was driven by an educational viewpoint, which is what Dr. Parrish is bringing to the district," said Monter. "What's offered looks really exciting." [s] ------

Former school board member Martha Smith agreed. "It's superb," she said. "It shows creative and serious thinking on the part of the school administration. I'm feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time about this school district." [s] c. Pointing out the positive outcomes of the schools, often educational outcomes but can be other outcomes too.

“The improvement in test scores reflects the hard work we put into educating our children.” [s] ------

Duffy figures the [new education] plan will cause property values to rise in her Riverside Dr. neighborhood on the West Side, but as far as she can tell, the benefits end there. [w]

452

JUST2: Success is a function of proper talent, motivation, behavior, life style, attitude, or other private trait.

Description:

Stories or descriptions of successful individuals or groups either in the local school system or in other school systems. The segment must be about what the current status of the disadvantaged individual or the group is, not about how they achieved success, though the two elements may appear together.

Categories:

JUST2a: Code when the segment is about children.

JUST2b: Code when the segment is about parents.

JUST2c: Code when the segment is about a neighborhood or other community.

Indicators:

a. Reports on successful students (JUST2a).

Lelani, who turns 17 next month, won the sixth annual Shakespeare Recitation Competition for Cleveland high school students. David Foster of John Adams High School was second and Patrice Elder of Lincoln-West High School was third. It was the second year in a row that Lelani, a Cleveland School of the Arts junior, won the contest sponsored by the Cleveland Branch of the English- Speaking Union. [s]

------

The class began with 75 students who were once labeled as "at risk" of dropping out four years ago. Last night 41 left with diplomas, many left with college credits and a bag full of scholarship money. By August, valedictorian Letty Sandoz and salutatorian Deonna Phelps will have enough credits for a CCC associate degree. [s]

453 b. Reports on successful parents (JUST2b).

Josh’s mother is a prominent PTA member and is also involved with the local community council. She is committed to ensuring a high quality of education to her son. Her struggle has also inspired other parents and community members. [s]

c. Reports on successful neighborhoods/communities (JUST2c).

Judging by the turnout at yesterday's Cleveland Summit on Education, Cleveland students can count on the support of the community's adults. While yesterday was the city's third summit - a time by which many predicted the summit process would run out of steam - a record 1,600 participants showed up at the Cleveland Convention Center. That is more than twice as many people as attended the first summit in 1990. [s]

454

JUST3: Failure is a function of proper talent, motivation, behavior, life style, attitude, or other private trait.

Description:

Stories or descriptions of unsuccessful, failing individuals or groups either in the local school system or in other school systems. The segment must be about what the current state of the individual or the group is like, not about how they got there.

Categories:

JUST3a: Code when the segment is about children.

JUST3b: Code when the segment is about parents.

JUST3c: Code when the segment is about a neighborhood or other community.

Indicators: a. Reports on the failure or deviance of students (JUST3a).

Julio was adrift on a course leading to failure just a few months ago. He drank every night. In the morning, a hangover and throbbing headache often kept him in bed. And when Julio did haul himself to school, he had problems other than tardiness and failing grades. He'd start a fight if someone looked at him the wrong way. [s] ------

Three teenagers and an East Side store owner were arrested late Friday night, culminating a three-month investigation of computers stolen from six East Side Cleveland schools, police said…. Hastings said three adults and a teenager were arrested in the house and face drug-related charges. [s]

b. Reports on the failure or deviance of parents (JUST3b).

455

For the first time, he quietly admitted that he drinks beer with his stepfather and cousin. The drinking is regular - whenever the adults plant themselves in front of the television for the evening. "About 99% of the time, the parent or adult in the household are users themselves," said counselor John L. Mitchell, a retired Cleveland school teacher. STARS staff also recognizes that dealing with the teenager is not enough. Counselors are dispatched to the home to help determine what is causing the teen-ager's aberrant behavior. [s]

c. Reports on the failure or deviance of neighborhoods/communities (JUST3c).

"We're not responsible just to the client but to the family and community, to their peer group and to the school," Short said. "In order for the treatment to be effective, you must provide intervention at each level. It is often the community that fails the child." [s]

456

JUST4: Imperfections in the hierarchy are due to abstract, actorless forces such as the economy, human nature, urban decay, social complexity, globalization, poverty, etc.

Description:

Reports or comments on problems affecting the district that cannot be unambiguously attributed to the wrongdoing of specific concrete agents or groups.

Indicators:

a. Any actorless economic, financial or related problem explicitly or implicitly identified as a cause of existing problems or an obstacle to improvement.

The Ohio Department of Education's Division of School Finance has alerted districts that money budgeted for state aid to schools will have to be spread across more students than expected, reducing each district's share. Estimates from the state Office of Management and Budget put the cuts in the vicinity of 0.5% of a district's operating budget. How heavy a hit a district takes depends on how much of a school district's budget comes from state money. Since the cuts are over the last five months of the schools' fiscal year, the impact on districts could be closer to a loss of about 1% of their remaining operating budgets. [w—because the budget problem is treated as ‘given’ without further analysis of what or who has caused it or allowed it to prevail] ------

"And I won't tinker with it now. Go to the people, and tell them that you need more money - that because of inflation, you're asking them to support a levy," Voinovich said. [w]

------

Fernandez said he attributes [the damage to African American students] to a few things - limited resources in a district constantly short on funds and a lack of professional development for teachers. But also, he says, "a lack of leadership (by previous administrations) in trying to make a difference." [w]

------

“These are tough economic times. Add to that the problems of poverty and crime in the district. These make the changes we would like to implement tremendously difficult to succeed” [s]

457

b. Any actorless housing or related problem explicitly or implicitly identified as a cause of existing problems or an obstacle to improvement.

Primarily because of the city's segregated housing patterns, many buildings would return to being one-race schools. Today, nearly 70% of the district's students are black. And since many schools have been closed with the exodus of children and the creation of magnet schools, dozens of schools would be overcrowded. [s]

------

“Segregation in the schools is largely the result of the housing patterns that have evolved over the years. These patterns reflect the preferences of private citizens” he said.

c. Pointing out generic or conceptual obstacles to change and improvement, or broad causes of problems.

“Our biggest problem is resistance to change. Many people in this district are set in the old ways, which make it difficult to institute reforms,” she said. [s] [this comment was not about the resistance to change within the administrative ranks, but in the district as a whole]

d. Any other segment that points the finger at problematic elements that one cannot easily and unequivocally associate with concrete actors.

(*)

458

JUST5: Imperfections in the hierarchy are due to regulative problems, such as bureaucratic inefficiency, poor governance, dirty politics, incompetent or corrupt leadership, etc.

Description:

Reports, arguments or comments regarding the inherent difficulties in bureaucratic structures, school board mismanagement, inadequate superintendents, or any other regulative problem either explicitly or implicitly referred to as the cause of existing problems in the district or as the obstacle to improvement. The segment must be about problem identification, not about solution proposals that involve regulative reform, though the two may appear together.

Indicators:

a. Talking about the inherent ills of bureaucracy.

With the defeat of veteran school board members James M. Carney Jr. and Stanley E. Tolliver, the Cleveland school board knocked off only one layer of obstacles. But the new, united board has a more daunting obstacle staring it in the face. Its biggest challenge, say board members, will be to get some administrators - many of whom have 20 or 30 years with the district - to shake off their apathy, lethargy and fear of taking action. [s]

------

So they already have put out warning signals to the district's administration. They see it as a slow-moving elephant that has settled into a decades-old way of doing things, usually citing the reason as "because we've always done it this way." [s]

b. Focusing on poor leadership or management problems in district administration or in individual schools.

A management-improvement issue was on the table at the first Cleveland school board meeting attended by the new majority known as the Four L's. [s]

459

------

But the biggest criticism against the four is the one leveled against most politicians who make big promises to cut waste and inefficiency: a lack of follow- through. [s]

------

Kucinich said he didn't understand what the board majority was doing. "I can't remember a board meeting where people weren't allowed to attend," he said. "Has this board become so paranoid it's afraid of what people will say?" [s]

------

"You can't negotiate in good faith and say what the end result must be," said Richard DeColibus, president of the Cleveland Teachers Union. DeColibus said the school district is almost at the state minimum number of teachers. "If the district cuts teachers, the kids will bear the burden in larger class size," DeColibus said. "The kids are the real victims of district mismanagement."

------

Board member Stanley E. Tolliver said he was upset that Lumsden and the other three members of the four-member majority decided what the board would do without conferring with the three other members of the board. He said he was not notified. [s]

------

The special audit by State Auditor Thomas E. Ferguson's office sharply criticized the district's sloppy purchasing procedures and its failure to have an up-to-date inventory of equipment. Auditors discovered inconsistencies between resolutions sent to the board and contracts sent to vendors. And it found that the district did not always prepare or execute formal written agreements or contracts with vendors. "The absence of an agreement precludes the district from determining if vendors are being paid for work which the board authorized," the report said. The investigation also determined that the department spent $97,714 beyond what the

460

school board authorized and overpaid four computer vendors $13,184 in fees. The report said the district should try to recover the $13,184. [s]

c. Observations or complaints regarding the political stifling on the school board or in other domains of the district administration or the administration of individual schools.

Ayatollah Khomeini, Josef Stalin, Saddam Hussein, Adolf Hitler, Mike White. Cleveland school board members James M. Carney Jr. and Stanley E. Tolliver and the two candidates running with them have unleashed a campaign commercial that puts the Cleveland mayor in company with the four infamous dictators. Carney thinks the comparison is appropriate. [s]

------

It goes on to portray the four school board candidates White supports as puppets and says dramatically, "They have left (the Cleveland school) system broken ... with busing up, the deficit up and education down. Don't be fooled by the dictator. Take back our school board and save the children." [s]

------

As long as the school board fails to acknowledge the real problems that afflict the schools and takes responsibility for those problems, we will continue to observe poor outcomes. [s]

461

JUST6: Imperfections in the hierarchy are due to internal opponents such as disruptive and exploitative groups, or external opponents such as other states, districts, or even entire nations.

Categories:

JUST6a: Code when the segment is about internal opponents.

JUST6b: Code when the segment is about external opponents.

Description (JUST6a):

Statements that identify a particular group, such as an ethnic or geographic minority, as ultimately responsible for problems or obstacles affecting education in the district.

Think Jews in Germany during the Nazi era, when they were identified as the source of the decline in German society.

Description (JUST6b):

Statements that identify another school district or other external party as responsible problems or obstacles regarding affecting in the district.

Poor test scores in the local district related to good teachers being lured by surrounding districts.

Poor student performance or decline in district tax dollars related to economic competition from China.

462

CONF1: Radical change is unnecessary, costly, futile, risky, and/or may have perverse outcomes.

Description:

This is a code derived from Hirschman (1991) work, The Rhetoric of Reaction: Perversity, Futility, Jeopardy. It includes any comment or statement that discredits, ridicules, vilifies, or simply cautions against plans or past experiences of radical change in the school system such as busing for racial desegregation or metropolitan or statewide funding equity. The comment may be explicit or implicit.

Indicators: a. Comments or statements regarding high costs, inconveniences, and unintended consequences associated with radical reform plans or comments regarding the ineffectual nature of such plans.

Perhaps no one understands the Wallses' anguish better than Debbie Winzig. She, too, has lived with the headaches of crosstown busing. Last year, Winzig pulled her 11-year-old daughter, Katie, out of Major Work because the hourlong trip from their West Park home to Cranwood Elementary School in Garfield Heights was too much. [w]

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“Busing will cause a lot of families to leave our school system. Many will run for the suburbs. That will hurt not only the schools but also the real estate prices in the city,” said Pinkney. [s]

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“Busing has destroyed this town. It was one of the most disruptive and unreasonable educational policies ever implemented,” he argued. [s]

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Separately, the Ohio Senate's education czar, Sen. H. Cooper Snyder, R-14, of Hillsboro, criticized "school equity" lawsuits, saying they don't link spending to performance. He pledged to introduce an "educational opportunity" bill late this month to address some equity issues. "Always, money makes a difference. ... (But) the focus of the educators is money, money, money. The focus should be children, children, children," Snyder said. [s]

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463

Busing for racial balance in the schools has not improved education. It never could have. If anything, it made things worse and has incurred unnecessary costs. [s]

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"House values in Cleveland will benefit from this almost immediately," Miller said, adding that city housing is underpriced. "You have a white and a black flight from the city because of busing, and that's one of the reasons the suburbs have been able to profit from this surge." [s]

464

CONF2: Ongoing innovations and reforms are adequate enough to improve education (no need for radical interventions).

Description:

Statements that promote the idea that incremental and limited improvement policies already underway or soon to be implemented are better and more preferable than radical policies that require more effort, resources, and sacrifice. Often times, the comment will not involve an open comparison between incremental and radical options, but it must involve elements regarding the preferred nature of incremental options.

Indicators: a. Advocating, proposing or praising incremental reform policies, implying either explicitly or implicitly, that they are sufficient to accomplish profound change in education.

“Special education programs in the district, focusing on arts, science, engineering, and aviation [magnet schools] are at the cutting edge of school reform. These, combined with our new racially balanced staffing policies, are adequate enough to make the Cleveland Public Schools a model for many other city schools. Our focus should be on quality education, not busing.” Briggs said [s]

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Voinovich also lauded the Head Start program, and repeated an earlier vow that every eligible child in Ohio be enrolled in the preschool program by 1995. [w]

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Her plan recommends six specific priorities for changing the entire system:

-Ensure that virtually every child learns to read during first grade.

-Dramatically improve the performance of students, as measured by the state- mandated proficiency tests.

-Increase graduation requirements to ensure that all high school students enroll in challenging academic "core" classes, rather than coasting through "general track" courses.

-Institute a uniform grade structure to minimize disruption for students who change schools within the district.

465

-Establish each school as a safe and secure environment - not just through outside assistance from police and security officers, but by having students and staff at schools understand that they control their environment.

-Create, in the next seven years, schools in which students will be "successful learners," as measured by how close they come to meeting predetermined standards.

Another priority is to address the early school failure of black students, using educational programs that research has shown to be effective, Parrish said. [s— the plan is proposed as an alternative to forced busing].

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Now, hopeful administrators and board members say, the district is poised for improvement, as Parrish's "Vision 21" education plan begins Wednesday with the first day of school. Next year, they say, the numbers should improve. [s—the plan is proposed as an alternative to forced busing].

466

CONF3: Traditional practices, particularly the “neighborhood school,” must be maintained.

Description:

Statements or comments that convey the inherent adequacy of the “neighborhood school,” either explicitly or implicitly.

Indicators:

a. Plans or calls to abandon crosstown busing and to return to the concept of the “neighborhood school.”

Superintendent Sammie Campbell Parrish developed the Vision 21 plan, an ambitious effort to meet Battisti's comprehensive desegregation order. While the plan is designed to reduce crosstown busing, it was driven as much by demands for educational improvement as it was for racial balance. [s]

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Mary Atkins, who has two children in the Cleveland schools, said she was pleased with Parrish's plan. "It's good that a lot of kids will be a little closer to home and parents can get to them," she said referring to the student assignment plan that eliminates some of the long bus rides to and from school. Her neighbor, Dolores Meeks, agreed, praising Parrish.

"I believe her when she says this is the beginning of a new era in the Cleveland schools. I really think she's good." she said. [s]

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There would be less reliance on transportation to achieve integration goals, and more reliance on quality education programs to attract an integrated student body to its schools. [s]

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b. Any other segment that reinforces the concept of the “neighborhood school.”

467

"Why are they messing with schools that work?" asked Melisa Feliciano, whose child attends the Fundamental Education Center at Clara Westropp. Feliciano also attended a chaotic noon meeting with members of the City Council, where about 20 parents blasted the proposal, saying it would destroy good neighborhood schools.

468

CONF4: Traditional practices, particularly the “neighborhood school,” may be imperfect but they can be fixed, improved by means of school-level interventions.

Description:

Statements or comments regarding how to augment, fix, and improve the condition of inferior neighborhood schools in the district. The statement must involve some explicit or implied prescription for achieving organizational improvement in an individual school or a group of schools.

Indicators:

a. Calls to improve the poor teaching process in the schools by means of teacher improvement, curriculum reform, safety or discipline interventions, facility repair, and so on.

Some 11th-graders attending the speech were not enthralled by Parrish's proposal. "The school year shouldn't be extended," said LaTonya Green, a student at Martin Luther King Jr. Law and Public Service High School. "They should work on the school day and work on the teachers to train them so they can train us." [s]

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Parrish said it is not really the students' fault they are having problems with the math test. "What's happened is the rules have been changed on the students and the rules have been changed for the teachers," she said. "The math test, which is causing the greatest amount of difficulty by far, requires a very different way of teaching and learning mathematics." She said the test is being used to reform the ways schools teach math. [s]

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Among the reforms the union wants in the contract are:

-Bringing social workers to every school to connect students with appropriate social service agencies.

469

-Establishing diagnostic centers for students who are failing in the traditional school setting and family centers to assist students and parents in difficult home situations.

-Making suspensions and expulsions mandatory for students who assault other students or teachers.

-Having mandatory testing for lead and radon at all schools.

b. Praising improved school circumstances as the ultimate source of better educational results.

In her 12th grade, she expects to have a 4.0 grade-point average. The advantage of middle college is that "you have freedom here. You use books in the classroom, you don't have to carry them home," Constance said. "And the class size is small." [w]

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“The gains in reading scores are a result of our efforts to improve the quality of education in our school. It is a community success story. Everyone did their part in improving the discipline in our schools, creating resources for after-school classes, fixing our building, and reducing the truancy rate,” Hutchinson said.

470

CONF5: Imperfections in the hierarchy can be overcome by means regulative reforms, such as better bureaucratic efficiency, improved governance, productive politics, competent, etc.

Description:

Arguments or comments about the ways to improve bureaucratic structures, the quality of school board mismanagement, the quality and performance of superintendents, or any other regulative element in the school system. The segment must involve implicit or explicit prescriptions, not simply diagnoses, though the two may appear together.

Indicators:

a. Ways to improve bureaucracy.

“There has to be more accountability in the district. We must limit the tendency of officials to pass the buck when there are burning problems. We must also improve the communication between the board and the administration. There’s got to be more openness,” Tolliver said. [s]

b. Ways to improve the quality of leadership or management in district administration or in individual schools.

His plans for his next term as the board's steward will include more of the same: creating, mending and improving relationships with those who have been at odds with the board in the past. The list includes the governor, City Council and state legislators. [s]

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White said this year's race is more important than the one two years ago, when the four people he backed for school board, known as the L-slate, were victorious. Under that board majority, a new superintendent, treasurer and general counsel were hired to lead the school district. "My fear is that if the wrong people are elected this time, we'll kill reform and go back to confrontation," said White. [w]

471 c. Ways to limit political stifling or improve the political dynamics on the school board or in other domains of the district or school administration.

Lumpkin also vowed that the board majority will not micro-manage the district. He said the majority will do "everything possible" to help Superintendent Sammie Campbell Parrish establish a wide-sweeping education plan to end poor student performance. [s]

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"And I hate leaving the board to that psychopath at City Hall," he said, referring to White, a longtime foe. "Money is not the issue, either, though his war chest is enough to make anyone shake a little." [s]

472

CONF6: Limited assistance by the state is sufficient enough to help the needy or the disadvantaged succeed educationally as well as beyond school.

Description:

Comments or statements about the incremental state policies either advocated in their own right or as alternatives to more radical reforms. These policies typically involve government scholarships, vouchers, magnet schools, charter schools, etc. The comment may be implicit or explicit.

Indicators:

a. Advocating and/or describing new limited state-sponsored assistance policies or emphasizing the benefits of existing ones.

It was the first national conference of middle colleges. All are alternatives to high schools held at local community colleges for pupils identified as likely to drop out of regular high schools but probably capable of college work. Their purpose is to improve attendance and academic achievement by giving students more personal attention in smaller classes and a less restrictive college atmosphere.

Letty, who is a member of the National Honor Society, said she would like to go to Case Western Reserve University and become a nurse. If her credit hours are transferable, she would be three years ahead of a regular freshman. Currently, Letty is taking 12 credit hours of college courses and one high school class, she said. She also finds time to work 30 hours a week after school at a West Side video store. Letty said the advantage of going to the school is that teachers will give pupils individual attention, even if they are called at night by a pupil who is stumped by a problem. [s]

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"I don't think the right way to get more kids in magnet schools is to move existing schools," he said. "Just open new ones." [s]

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"I'm hearing your preferences," Parrish said. "You want magnet schools separate… you don't want the sixth grade moved. We do need more space at the elementary schools for all-day kindergarten. And we need more space in the magnet programs for all the students on waiting lists. But we will consider what you're saying." [w]

473

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“Private school vouchers are a great opportunity. They will ensure that the funds for students follow the student. They will also stimulate the competition in the schools and improve the quality of education.” Brooks said. [s]

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b. Pointing out the positive outcomes of existing limited state-sponsored assistance policies.

Jean owes her success to her unique experiences at school. She attends The Cleveland School of the Arts, a magnet school, where she enjoys the opportunity to develop her skills in specialized classes with similarly endowed peers. [s]

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Charter students typically score slightly higher in state proficiency tests their peers in regular public schools do. [s]

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“Limits on crosstown busing and the emphasis on improving the quality of education by means of specialized educational programs [MAGNETS], have made things better for both the children and the parents,” he said. “Educational policy should be based on what is known to work.” [w]

474

CONF7: Limited assistance by non-governmental benevolent actors is sufficient enough to help the needy or the disadvantaged succeed educationally as well as beyond school.

Description:

Comments or statements about the benevolent policies of non-governmental actions, such as foundations, churches, philanthropic organizations, business corporations, industry association, public or private colleges or universities, to help uplift the needy or disadvantaged students. These policies typically involve donations, scholarships, various educational programs, extra-curricular programs, internships and so on.

Indicators:

a. Advocating and/or describing new non-governmental assistance policies or emphasizing the benefits of existing ones.

The Jones Day Reavis & Pogue law firm, along with several other business and philanthropic organizations, announced the establishment of the Richard W. Pogue Institute for School Leadership and Management, a $300,000 project aimed at giving principals leadership training. [s]

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Mooney Principal Micheline Jackson said she had been frustrated in efforts to get extra help from the school district. But she is happy the exterminating company she hired this year has agreed to come to the school as often as needed at no extra cost. The company had been treating the hallways and classrooms. After the city Health Department, which had been alerted by parents, ordered the school to rid the cafeteria of roaches within 72 hours of its inspection, the company decided to pitch in with additional services. [s]

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"I'll work with the business community to get them to understand it is in their interest that these candidates succeed," White said. [w]

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The grandparents groups invite speakers from government and non-profit agencies who fill in the gaps of knowledge of group members. Youth gang experts from Rites of Passage and other agencies have addressed Roberts' group,

475

teaching members how to read graffiti and recognize gang colors, and the signs of substance abuse. Minnie's House donates clothes, food, and RTA bus tickets to clients and takes grandparents and kids on free trips to the Zoo, to plays, and on shopping excursions and other events that inner-city kids may be unable to experience. [s]

b. Pointing out the positive outcomes of non-governmental assistance policies.

A team from West Tech High School has been designated one of the state's "Pioneering Partners for Educational Technology," Gov. George V. Voinovich has announced. … The project is a partnership of West Tech; Youth Opportunities Unlimited, a youth employment agency; BP America; the Cleveland Advanced Manufacturing Program; the College of Education at Cleveland State University; and Cuyahoga Community College. [s]

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When Letty Sandoz, 17, graduates from high school June 3, she will have 60 hours of college credit under her belt and a 3.8 scholastic average. In eighth grade, she was absent from school so often that she was considered in danger of dropping out. "I was not really interested in school," Letty said yesterday. "It was boring."

Letty attends Middle College, a four-year alternative high school at Cuyahoga Community College's Metropolitan campus. The Cleveland Board of Education pays the high school teachers; CCC provides the facilities, advisers and the college courses when they are taken in addition to high school subjects, a spokeswoman said. [s]

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Richard Nickerson III is no nerd. He's the senior class president at Glenville High School, co-captain of its football team and captain of the weight-lifting team. Richard was one of 130 students from 19 Cleveland public high schools honored yesterday for academic success at an annual Rotary Club luncheon. He is one of eight from Glenville to receive the honors. [s]

476

CONF8: Adapt! Try harder to beat the odds (by relying on your personal merits).

Description:

Stories or descriptions of successful individuals or groups either in the local school system or in other school systems. The segment must be about how the disadvantaged individual or group has achieved success, not about what their current status is, though the two elements may appear together.

Categories:

CONF8a: Code when the segment is about children.

CONF8b: Code when the segment is about parents.

CONF8c: Code when the segment is about a neighborhood or other community.

Indicators:

a. Prescriptions for student success (CONF8a).

Sarah Coles, a ninth-grader at John Adams High School who has earned more than $1,600, was angry. "I think it's a bad decision," she said. "It's like they betrayed students. For some students, it's the money they need for college, especially since a lot of colleges matched the money. And it was like an award; you got something for working hard." [s]

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Lelani said he put extra work into the Shakespeare readings because Shakespeare was a foundation of Western theater and he wanted to become an actor. To prepare himself in the two weeks before the contest, he would read the play, memorize the passage and study the character and his approach. Then he would recite it over and over again, Lelani said. [s]

b. Prescriptions for parent success (CONF8b).

477

Still, much of Voinovich's remarks emphasized the importance of an education for Ohio's students. But he said parents played one of the most crucial roles. "Every parent must be a child's first teacher," he said. "That's why we've committed $2 million in this year's budget to parent involvement." [s]

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But parents like Michele Clark still say no. If students want to attend Willoughby- Eastlake schools, their parents should buy a house in the district and pay taxes, she and other opponents contend. Clark said she swallowed a hard financial pill when she moved to Willowick from Cleveland seven years ago. [s]

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And while the plan might result in some schools that are nearly all-black, Nielson emphasized that parents who want their children at an integrated school will be given a guaranteed assignment to a school designated by the district. [s]

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Parent liaisons will be hired at many of the district's elementary schools that are part of Vision 21. Parrish said a priority would be to emphasize to those parents the connection between student attendance and achievement - a connection they want them to share with other parents. [s]

c. Prescriptions for community success (CONF8c).

“It is up to the neighborhood. Everyone here, every resident must support the local school and make sure unruly behavior is not tolerated,” he said. [s]

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Peggie Brown, the principal of East Clark Elementary School, is one of those upbeat people. Her school is about 100 years old. Its roof leaks and a missing downspout has caused classroom walls to weaken from water damage.

But she talks about victories - how she's gotten parents and community residents involved in the school through special programs like magic shows that teach math and rummage sales that provide inexpensive clothes for students who need them.

478

Another victory came when she persuaded some men fixing a nearby street to dump extra gravel to fill in deep chuckholes in the school parking lot. [w— because the story is more about the principal’s efforts, but it does imply the role the ‘community’ has played]

479

CONF9: Disruptive, uncooperative individuals and/or groups among the needy must be controlled, punished, isolated, or removed from the system.

Description:

Statements, comments, or arguments that convey the need to control and separate out unruly or undisciplined students for their own wellbeing and/or the wellbeing of others around them.

Indicators:

a. Stories or descriptions of, or calls for higher levels of control and punishment.

Cleveland's southern neighbor is considering a law that would make it illegal for pupils 6 to 17 to be on the streets during school hours. The legislation is aimed at Cleveland kids. Cleveland recently adopted a daytime curfew, and Parma officials fear young Clevelanders, ducking the truant officer, will hang out in places such as Parmatown Mall.

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Anita Crawford, director of the district's security division, said aggressive enforcement of school regulations explains the statistics. "The rules against weapons possession are really being enforced," she said. "The district took a harder line - you bring a weapon to school, you're expelled." Crawford said the district's gang unit has been aggressive in handling minor problems before they lead to something more serious. [s]

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In addition, the agreement sets aside $250,000, which would be matched by another $250,000 from the Ohio Department of Education, to use for safety and discipline programs in 20 schools. The idea is to make the school buildings a safer learning environment. [w]

480

COMM1: Society/community is an integrated whole.

Description:

Statements, comments, or arguments that convey a socially integrated view of the school system.

Indicators:

a. Implicit or explicit references to the entire school system or all the children, often by using terms such as ‘this community,’ ‘this city,’ or ‘this district.’

Parrish acknowledged optimism in Cleveland that the schools are finally improving.

"This high spirit should not be taken for granted," she said. "This community, including our teachers, came together and caused it to happen.” [s]

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Administrators said only the southeast and northeast regions have the potential for one-race schools but that no more than seven of the district's 127 schools would be such schools. Parrish said the plan was responsive to community concerns. [s]

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Creating special programs to remove barriers to students' academic progress and to prevent early school failure. While these educational enhancements are designed for the 70% of the district's students who are African-American, Parrish said they would benefit all students. [w]

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"Let's face it, this plan affects the lives of 71,000 students in our community, and certainly a lot of the people are here tonight voicing their concern," Kucinich said. [s]

481

COMM2: Common burdens, common benefits.

Description:

Statements, comments, or arguments emphasizing that the advantages or disadvantages prevailing in the district are shared equally by all groups and residents (families and students).

Categories:

COMM2a: Code when the segment is about hardship.

COMM2b: Code when the segment is about improvements and/or prosperity.

Indicators:

a. Hardship affects us all; we are all in the same boat.

"But it's going to be tough," he said. "I'd be lying if I said cutting the teaching staff is good for the district. But the sacrifice will be shared in the district - teachers won't be the only ones who will suffer in these layoffs." [s]

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The incident seemed to galvanize city residents and leaders, who packed a recent forum on violence. It also gave new urgency to school efforts to deal with violence, said district school administrator Gerald L. Kordelski. Kordelski said he was almost glad the incident happened, without anyone getting hurt, because it could prompt the community to pool resources to combat a community problem. [s]

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“We are living in tough times, and it may tougher, as the city is hit economically,” White said. [s]

482 b. Improvements and/or prosperity affect us all; we are all in the same boat.

The reforms will be good for everyone in the district. We have a unique chance to make Cleveland a premiere school district educated all its students for success,” Parrish responded. [s]

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483

COMM3: The school board/administration is working for the common good.

Description:

Statements that reinforce the ‘public’ function of the school board and/or administration. The statement can be implicit or explicit as long as it conveys a neutral image of the board and/or the administration.

Indicators:

a. District leaders, administrators, and board members are doing their best to serve the public

"We have the best opportunity we've had in 20 years to create a quality integrated (school) system," he said. [s—‘we’ here refers to the schools’ leadership]

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"That has led to peoples' sense of frustration," he said. "And I made a clear commitment to advance this solution when I ran. We made some progress but we need to make more - and hold peoples' feet to the fire." [s—‘we’ here refers to the school board]

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Parrish said people had asked for major education changes. She said establishment of six neighborhood schools last year was not enough, in some people's minds. "I'm hoping even the judge (Frank J. Battisti) will be pleased," she said. "This isn't one thing tacked on here or there - this is comprehensive. The judge said 'find a new path,' and we've found one.' [w]

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Parrish called Battisti's approval of the plan a miracle. "Now I don't think we can anticipate any more miracles," she said. "It's up to us. We are the ones who will have to deliver. I don't have any doubts we can do that." [s]

484

COMM4: The individual is the basic unit actor in the social system(groups and other collectivities are irrelevant).

Description:

Reports, stories, statements or comments about individual (i.e., private rather than public) actions associated with specific outcomes, whether in the past or in the future. ‘The individual is the master of his destiny.’

Categories:

COMM4a: Code when the segment is about a student.

COMM4b: Code when the segment is about a parent or family.

Indicators:

a. Actions attributable to individual students (COMM4a)

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About 40 students are enrolled at any one time. During the average four months in the program, the students engage in group and individual therapy and are taught a wide spectrum of social skills. In individual or group therapy, STARS participants spend several hours a week during school time discussing drug and alcohol abuse and problems at home. But a considerable amount of time is also spent on changing poor behavior and bad attitudes. Students are taught techniques in problem solving, communication and other social skills. ------

485

To prepare himself in the two weeks before the contest, he would read the play, memorize the passage and study the character and his approach. Then he would recite it over and over again, Lelani said. [s] ------

Three awards will go to students at each of CCC's campuses. Applicants must be a graduate of Cleveland public schools, have at least a 3.5 cumulative grade-point average, demonstrate campus and community leadership and be a sophomore enrolled in an associate degree program. [w]

b. Actions attributable to individual parents or families (COMM4b)

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But they do well in school and credit their academic success to their parents, their churches and others who have taken special interest in their achievements. Richard said he often turned to his high school principal and sixth-grade teachers for advice. He admired his mother for raising a family as a single parent. "She's a school bus driver," he said. [s]

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Those elementary schools will become what administrators call "community model" schools - schools with a specialized curriculum. Parents of children who attend those schools this year will talk to teachers and administrators, and together select which "model" they want their school to follow. Then they will be given the resources and administrative guidance to create that model for the 1994-95 school year. [s]

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Elementary school parents also can choose to send their children to magnet schools, which offer special educational programs focusing on such subjects as the arts, computer technology and foreign languages. The schools are intended to

486

draw students from all parts of the city and will be scattered throughout. The district will provide transportation. [s]

487

COMM5: Individual rights and privileges are shared by everyone.

Description:

Reports, stories, statements or comments that implicitly or explicitly emphasize the centrality of individual rights and privileges as the common bond in the school system or the community at large.

Indicators:

a. Reference to personal rights, liberties, freedoms protected by law.

It is up to the student and his parents. Each child certainly has a right to attend the school of his choice. That’s what the constitution guarantees. [s]

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“My parents moved out here so that I can have the opportunity to attend the schools out here. It is my right to do so. No one can force me to attend another school,” a Parma student asserted. [s]

b. Any other reference to individual rights and privileges.

(*)

488

COMM6: Certain groups in the hierarchy are advantaged or disadvantaged due to collective traits that improve or hinder the chances for individual success.

Categories:

COMM6a: Code when the segment is about collective advantage.

COMM6b: Code when the segment is about collective disadvantage (stigma).

Description (COMM6a):

Stories, reports, statements, comments, arguments that implicitly or explicitly refer to cultural, ethnic, geographic, or genetic traits in association with positive group status.

Think Asian students in poor districts as the ‘model minority.’

Description (JUST6b):

Stories, reports, statements, comments, arguments that implicitly or explicitly refer to cultural, ethnic, geographic, or genetic traits in association with negative group status.

Think ‘culture of poverty’ depictions of poor black students in inner-city school systems.

489

INJ1: The hierarchy is unfair or is likely to become unfair.

Description:

Reports, stories, statements or comments that involve criticisms of the school system or the broader conditions in the district to implicitly or explicitly emphasize an inconsistency with social ideals of equality and fairness in race/class relations.

Indicators:

a. Critical views or evaluations of the school system.

"Not too many people applaud the Cleveland schools - we have to do something now to change that," said Susan Leonard, a board member. [w]

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White, who will begin a 24-hour fast Monday, said withdrawing the additional breakfast funding is "insanity." "When we don't properly invest in health and hunger, we are condemning thousands of children to a life of poverty," he said. [s]

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Prentiss joined White and Hagan on the steps of City Hall on the third day of her fast. She questioned how poor children, who she said often go for 18 hours without a meal, could be expected to pass the state-mandated proficiency tests. "Everybody knows children can't learn if they are hungry." [s]

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Fernandez would have testified, on behalf of the district, that it still has vestiges of discrimination against black students. If U.S. District Judge Frank J. Battisti had agreed, he could have ordered the state to pay the district as many millions of dollars a year as he felt were necessary to correct that.

"The Cleveland school system seems to hurt, rather than help, African-American students," he said. "Some teachers and administrators told me they did not believe

490

all children can learn. What that translates into is they think that black children can't learn." So teachers will lower standards for them rather than make them more rigorous - doing those students a grave injustice”, he said.[s]

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Carney, 44, said one of his campaign issues will be the amount of money the district loses to tax abatement and tax increment financing because of City Hall "giveaways" to developers.

"The relationship between the mayor and the board majority is such that they're frequently able to direct needed funds from the school district to other projects," Carney said, citing deals for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum and the Wyndham Hotel on Playhouse Square as two projects that cost the school district millions in future tax revenue. "This district needs the money, and we need independent voices such as mine and Stanley Tolliver's to point that out," he said. [w]

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Cleveland's black schools are getting the new tellers with the least amount of experience, the NAACP charged in U. S. District Court yesterday. Using charts compiled from board of education figures, NAACP lawyer Thomas I. Atkins said teachers with provisional rather than permanent certificates are found most often in black schools. In addition, he said, teachers in black schools usually are those with one-year limited contracts rather than the continuing contract found most in white schools. [s]

b. Drawing links between the personal failure of students and the systemic patterns of unfairness in the school system or in the broader social hierarchy. [‘Personal talent and motivation are difficult to freely and fully use and/or cultivate’].

“Black students have been deliberately let down in this district for decades. They have been subjected to inferior facilities, supplies, and teachers,” Atkins charged. “It is no surprise that their reading and math scores are well below those of white students,” Atkins charged. [s]

491

INJ2: Discriminatory practices perpetuate or are likely to worsen the unfairness.

Description:

Stories or comments about the ill effects of specific educational or other practices in the school system or in the broader hierarchy, implicitly or explicitly conveying their unfair consequences.

Indicators:

a. Unequivocal characterization of a specific practice as discriminatory.

“Neighborhood schools are inherently discriminatory, because separate is inherently unequal,” said Hardiman. [s]

------

NAACP claims that student assignment and school construction policies in Cleveland have been biased against blacks for decades. “The board’s policies helped create a dual school system and reinforce housing segregation,” Atkins argued in court yesterday. [s]

------

A group of black public officials yesterday denounced the school voucher system proposed by Gov. George V. Voinovich, saying it would destroy public school systems like Cleveland's and hurt poor minority students.

The Black Elected Democrats of Cleveland, Ohio, led by Rep. Louis Stokes, D- 11, of Shaker Heights, said the public money that would be used in the voucher plan should instead be spent on improving the state's public schools. [s]

------

At issue is a lawsuit filed against state officials in June 1992 in Perry County, southeast of Columbus, by the Ohio Coalition for Equity & Adequacy of School

492

Funding, claiming that Ohio's current school-finance system is unconstitutional because it allegedly short-changes pupils in poor districts. [w—because this is not a ‘statement,’ but a description of the problem]

b. Drawing links between the personal failure of students and the ill effects of specific discriminatory practices. [‘Personal talent and motivation are difficult to freely and fully use and/or cultivate’].

“Segregation limits the life chances of black students. They deserve a piece of the pie too. [s]

------

My sons attend Elliot Junior High School and Moses Cleveland Elementary School [BOTH OF WHICH ARE SEGREGATED]. Many days they come home with no homework, and when they do bring some home it is of a level that is, at best, embarrassing. I have asked various principals and teachers: "Why did my son attend six weeks of school without a textbook?" Or, "Why wasn't I informed that my son wasn't present on that particular day?" Or, "Why is my son permitted to come home without homework when he is doing so badly in school?"

My questions are usually answered stupidly and ridiculously with, "I'm sorry sir, but you see, there are so many kids attending school and classes that we just can't keep up with them." This is particularly difficult to swallow when you are being assessed property, city, state taxes, etc. on a regular basis, as is everyone else. [s]

493

INJ3: The dominant class and/or its agents are responsible for the unfairness.

Description:

Statements, comments, or arguments that hold the dominant class or particular agents of this class accountable for existing or future discriminatory practices, their consequences, or the broadly inferior state of the school system (an individual school).

Indicators:

a. Blaming the dominant class or its agents for creating or perpetuating unfairness.

The suburbanites have done nothing for the black children of Cleveland. They supported biased policies or remained indifferent to such policies. How dare they criticize U.S. District Judge Frank J. Battisti for rendering what must have been a difficult decision, when they themselves slink in and out of Cleveland after having made a decent living, which they spend in the suburbs, while Cleveland dies of decay from lack of funds before their very eyes.

These suburbanities have nothing to fear presently from busing because they chose to run rather than fight for a program of good educative integration. The cold-hearted fact of the matter is that not only will they go to any extent to prevent their precious children from attending school with black children, but they" will also go to these same extremes to prevent any white child from participating in any integrative effort. [s]

------

"The school system failed us for not protecting my child," the woman said. "That teacher should not be allowed to teach." [w]

494

------

"For the governor of Ohio to exacerbate the condition of education in the Cleveland public schools by instituting a voucher system which would guarantee the total collapse of public schools is ... a declaration of war on our children," said Stokes.

------

Outside the courtroom, Jones stressed that if Judge Battisti accepts the argument that segregation in Cleveland and the suburbs is related, it would not be necessary for the NAACP to prove each suburb guilty of segregation. In proving its case against Cleveland, Jones argued, the NAACP does not have to show there "was racial Rate or the desire to hurt or harm." Intent is a hard concept to understand, he said. The public has "been looking for the smoking gun," he said. "School boards rarely spread racial hate across minutes of their meetings." Later another NAACP lawyer, Thomas I. Atkins, said, "We have shown there was a policy decision by the board not to desegregate" even when community groups pressed for integration.

All three lawyers stressed that inaction by state officials caused segregation statewide. The state's own studies showed residential and school segregation existed, and a 1956 opinion by the attorney general required the State Board of Education to take action against segregated school districts, they said.

"For the state to say it never once made a recommendation to Cleveland is, we contend, by itself a damning admission," Atkins said.

b. Holding the dominant class or its agents for remedying the unfairness.

The school board and the State must do what is necessary to reverse the vestiges of discrimination in the schools. “It is all up to them,” said Atkins. “If they do their part, there’s no need for a legal battle.” [s]

495

AGY1: Radical change is necessary and possible (and is better than incremental change).

Description:

Statements, comments, arguments that that foster a sense of agency on the part of the subordinate class, particularly by emphasizing the notion that there are feasible, realizable alternatives to undue hardship.

Indicators:

a. Broad declarations of the achievability of radical reform to remedy unfairness.

We shall overcome! [s]

------

“Things will change here,” Hardiman said. “We are no longer willing to go along with discrimination. We are no longer willing to let our children attend inferior schools and take segregation for granted. Never again! We will do all that we can do demand our constitutional rights.” [s]

------

Willoughby-Eastlake Superintendent Roger J. Lulow has told parents he believes the policy of allowing students from outside the district would be a good idea, fattening school coffers by as much as $1.3 million a year if all 600 empty seats in the district were filled. The district could use the money with the possibility of an operating levy looming in the near future. [w]

496

AGY2: Traditional, discriminatory practices should be replaced by remedial ones to restores fairness. [There is a solution!]

Description:

Reports, stories, statements or comments that implicitly or explicitly highlight the need to replace discriminatory practices, such as the “neighborhood school,” with remedial ones, such as integrated schools by means of forced busing.

Categories:

AGY2a: Code when the segment is about resistance to discriminatory practices.

AGY2b: Code when the segment is about the pursuit of remedial practices.

Indicators:

a. Calls to resist discriminatory practices, or stories about how some resist such practices (AGY2a).

“I invite all my brothers and sisters to join our cause, to raise their voice against oppression and segregation. We must show our resolve. We must boycott segregated schools if necessary,” Corey said. [s]

------

William L. Phillis, the coalition's director, says the best way to eliminate this discrimination is to fight it in court. He says some school districts spend as much as $11,000 per pupil, while some spend as little as $2,817. His organization hasn't determined what the adequate funding level should be, but he says something "in the range of $4,500 is a good starting point."

------

Several demonstrators marched downtown last week to protest student assignment policies of the school board and to demand remedial action. [s]

497 b. Calls to pursue remedial practices, or stories about how some demand such practices (AGY2b).

Black children deserve the same quality of education as white children do. Integrated education would ensure that. More fundamentally though, it helps eliminate the terms of racial caste in our society. Black parents must therefore support the NAACP’s goal to desegregate the schools. [s]

------

A group of parents and activists, including members of the Urban League, held a press conference today, detailing their plans to pursue funding equity in Ohio. [s]

c. Praising the properties and/or outcomes of remedial practices.

498

ID1: Us v. them!

Description:

Reports, stories, statements or comments that implicitly or explicitly convey the adversarial nature of the social hierarchy: black v. white, poor v. affluent, urban v. suburban, etc.

Indicators:

a. Reference to group identities.

------

"A lot of the white people are prejudiced like that," she said. "They think that the blacks are so different from us, but they're not. I mean they care about their kids, they work ... I think it's just that the white people are so prejudiced, they're afraid that the blacks are going to take over or something and there's no reason." [s]

------

"I regret his passing, and I'm sure the whole nation will mourn his passing," Battisti said. "Thurgood Marshall struggled all his life to persuade the court to adopt his view that 'separate but equal' had no place in American society. He never lost sight of that matter. He realized it still had to be said, over and over.'

Some say Marshall also shattered the myth that whites had better legal minds than blacks, in the process inspiring young blacks to become lawyers. [s]

499 b. Group comparisons (to highlight injustice).

Close to 95 percent of black pupils are in all-black schools. And, more than 80 percent of white students are in all-white schools. [s]

------

Black students consistently score lower state proficiency tests than white students do. [s]

500

ID2: We are a group. We have a common history, injury, and purpose (distinct from the other group).

Description:

Reports, stories, statements or comments that implicitly or explicitly emphasize the common bonds within the subordinate class.

Indicators:

a. Any reference to common cultural traits, historical experiences, shared hardship, and so on.

Blacks in Cleveland have always carried the burden of segregation. As far back as the 1930s, the schools were intentionally segregated and under-funded. It got worse as the city received more migrants from the South in the 1950s and 60s. [s]

------

Hardiman also argued that that the curriculum had to change to include more topics in African American history and culture. [s]

501

ID3: Transcend your personal concerns. Stand up and fight!

Description:

Reports, stories, statements or comments that implicitly or explicitly foster a “class for itself” attitude among the subordinate class.

Indicators:

a. Calls for collective mobilization.

------

After the speech, the audience met in groups of 15 and 20. Some educators facilitated the small groups, during which they tried to develop some type of grass-roots campaign. Fred Blosser, superintendent of Canton city schools, said the coalition was trying to get 1 million signatures from around the state to send to Columbus. [w]

b. Recaps or references to the mobilization actions taken by organized activists, such as the NAACP or other SMOs. [Mobilization actions are distinct from regular actions, they involve major interventions].

The NAACP threatened to sue the Cleveland schools unless the school board takes decisive action to voluntarily desegregate the schools. [s]

------

502

At issue is a lawsuit filed against state officials in June 1992 in Perry County, southeast of Columbus, by the Ohio Coalition for Equity & Adequacy of School Funding, claiming that Ohio's current school-finance system is unconstitutional because it allegedly short-changes pupils in poor districts. [s]

503

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