ArticlesJournal of Contemporary Criminal Justice26(1) 10.docx

Articles
Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice
26(1) 103 –120
© 2010 SAGE Publications
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DOI: 10.1177/1043986209350437
http://ccj.sagepub.com
Internet Development,
Censorship, and Cyber
Crimes in China
Bin Liang1 and Hong Lu2
Abstract
Since its first Internet connection with the global computer
network in 1994, China
has witnessed explosive Internet development. By the end of
2008, China replaced
the United States as the largest Internet user of the world.
Although China enjoyed
tremendous economic benefits from Internet development, the
Chinese government
has tried to maintain tight control over the telecommunications
industry and the
public Internet use, and fight increasing cyber crimes. In this
article, we first review
historical development of Internet use in China and then focus
on China’s Internet

censorship and its regulatory control. Next, we explore how the
Internet is actively
utilized by both the government and the public to serve political
and civic functions.
Finally, we discuss cyber crimes as an emergent form of crime
in China and examine
how the Chinese government reacts to these offenses. Lessons
from Internet use
and regulation in China are also discussed within the context of
China’s economic,
political, and legal conditions.
Keywords
Internet, Internet censorship, Internet regulation, cyber crime,
China
Introduction
Internet use and development is one of the most important
inventions in the second
half of the 20th century. It has transformed people’s lives and
its impact is beyond
one’s imagination and is still to come in many aspects.
1Oklahoma State University-Tulsa
2University of Nevada, Las Vegas
Corresponding Author:
Bin Liang, Associate Professor, Department of Sociology,
Oklahoma State University–Tulsa, 700 North
Greenwood Avenue, Main Hall, 2223, Tulsa, OK 74106
Email: [email protected]
104 Journal of Contemporary Criminal Justice 26(1)

China’s Internet use and development did not begin until a
decade later after its
economic reforms. Its growth has outpaced other countries, and
China by 2008 has the
largest number of Internet users in the world. What
accompanied China’s Internet
development is the government’s tight control and regulation
over Internet infrastruc-
ture, its commercial and social use, and its potential political
ramifications. Despite
being criticized by human rights groups and activists, China’s
Internet censorship
system seemingly functions well as the “Great Firewall of
China.”
On the other hand, there is high hope that Internet use and
development in China
will eventually lead to democracy in the largest country, testing
the hypothesized rela-
tionship between Internet use, free flow of information, and
democracy. Indeed, the
Internet has profoundly transformed the Chinese society in the
last decade, even in
China’s political-legal reforms. However, democracy is still as
far-reaching as it once
was and the role of the Internet in this reform has been
constrained by the wider socio-
political and economic context of China.
Like many other nations, China’s Internet use and development
also witnessed
surging cyber crimes, many in traditional forms but others as
new phenomena. Unfor-
tunately, this appears to be the least studied subject. Key
questions such as the status

of cyber crimes in China, the features of such crimes, and the
government’s response
to these crimes are rarely answered.
In this article, we briefly review the historical development of
Internet use in China
and its regulation. We also explore the issues of China’s
democracy on Internet use,
the political and civic functions of the Internet, and emergent
forms of cyber crimes
and the Chinese government’s response to them. These issues
are all discussed within
China’s wider social, economic, political, and legal conditions.
Internet Development: Beyond
the Great Wall, Joining the World
China’s Internet development has come a long way in a very
short time (Wu, 1996).
Though China initiated the economic reform and “open-door”
policy in the late 1970s
and early 1980s, the use and development of Internet did not
appear until almost a
decade later. In the late 1980s, China’s academia, with the
support of foreign partners,
began to explore Internet use. In September 1987, a symbolic
message “Beyond the
Great Wall, Joining the World (yueguo changcheng, zouxiang
shijie)” was sent from
China via email (Qiu, 2003). In 1994, China connected its first
international dedicated
line to the Internet and became the 71st country to register onto
the global computer
network and received CN as the highest level domain name (Lu
et al., 2002; Taubman,
1998).

Similar to other countries, China’s early efforts at creating
Internet networks were
focused on the scholarly exchange of information. Its first
networks reflected these
interests, including the China Academic Network (CANET),
China Research Network
(CRNET), and the Institute of High Energy Physics (IHEP)
Network (Harwit & Clark,
2001). Soon after, China began to realize the significance of
computer information
Liang and Lu 105
technology in its economic development and encouraged fast
development of Internet
in commercial use to embrace the new information era. As a
result, China witnessed
tremendous expansion of Internet use.
China’s total estimate of Internet users was only a few
thousands by the mid-1990s
but grew exponentially afterwards. Based on annual survey data
by the Chinese Inter-
net Network Information Center (CNNIC), Internet uses in
China reached 2 million in
1998, surpassed 100 million in 2005, and rose to 298 million by
the end of 2008.
China also replaced the United States as the largest Internet
user of the world. Despite
its uneven distribution across geographical regions (e.g., rural
areas carry fewer users
than urban areas), China’s Internet coverage of its total
population (23% by 2008)
already passed the world average coverage (22%) (CNNIC

survey reports at http://
www.cnnic.cn/en/index/0O/02/index.htm; Dowell, 2006;
Srikantaiah & Dong, 1998;
Tan, 1999; Tai, 2006; Wang, 2002).
Along with the growth of Internet users, other indexes of
Internet development are
impressive as well. Since the official establishment of the
CNNIC in 1997, the number
of registered domain names increased from a little more than
4,000 in 1997 to 1.8 mil-
lion in 2004 and reached nearly 17 million by 2008; the number
of registered Web
sites increased from less than 4,000 in 1997 to almost 3 million
by 2008.
China’s Internet development has been bound to its overall
economic development
in general and the growth of its telecommunication industry in
particular over the
years. For example, in 1997, the numbers of fixed-line
telephones and mobile phones
were about 70 million and 13 million, respectively (annual data
reported by the
National Bureau of Statistics of China). By 2001, China
surpassed the United States to
become the world’s largest mobile telecom market and its total
number of mobile
phone users reached nearly 373 million by 2005 while the
number of fixed-line tele-
phone reached 342 million (Tai, 2006, p. 119). CNNIC (2008)
estimated that more
than 117 million Internet users accessed Internet via their
mobile phones by 2008 and
more than 90% of Internet users (270 million) had broadband
Internet access.

In comparison to other nations (e.g., Abbott, 2001; Fan, 2005;
Srikantaiah & Dong,
1998; Xue, 2005), the intervention and domination by the
Chinese government has
been the major distinctive feature of China’s Internet
development. The Internet boom
was made possible largely because of a “state-centric strategy
for comprehensive
informationization” (Hartford, 2000). This state-precipitated
development of the
Internet also ensured the state ownership and control of main
Internet infrastructure
and the use of Internet.
Internet Censorship and Regulation: The Great Firewall,
Self-Censorship, and Multidimensional Regulations
Given China’s single-party political system and its heavy
intervention in Internet
development, its Internet censorship and regulation has evolved
into a comprehensive,
multidimensional system that governs Internet infrastructure,
commercial and social
use as well as legal domains.
The great firewall. The predominant method of control at the
infrastructure level is
restriction of access to Internet information (e.g., regulating
access and content, moni-
toring Internet use). At the national level, only government-
approved agencies and
businesses are permitted to establish an Internet Interconnecting

Network (also called
“backbone network” or gugan wangluo in Chinese) and to
license the operation of
Internet service providers at the next tier. These networks are
required to go through
international gateways located in Beijing, Shanghai, and
Guangzhou and are subject
to governmental control and regulation (see, for example,
Cheung, 2006; Fan, 2005;
Perritt & Clarke, 1998; Tan, 1999). At the next tier, all private
Internet service provid-
ers are licensed through one of these Internet Interconnecting
Networks and are
required to install filters to block away undesirable content. The
bottom tier involves
Internet users who are required to register with Internet service
providers to gain Inter-
net access.
The Chinese government has also been constantly updating its
surveillance and
control system. Take the “Golden Shield” project for example.
As one of the “Three
Golden Projects,” it was first proposed in 1993 and approved in
1998. This project,
still going on, is part of the Great Firewall of China. Its main
function is to censor and
control Internet information both domestically and globally
(Dowell, 2006). In addi-
tion, China has established a special Internet police force to
assist its Internet
surveillance. In August 2000, Anhui became the first province
to set up Internet police
force and 20 others followed suit later; more than 300,000
personnel were reportedly
hired nationwide by the end of 2000 (Endeshaw, 2004; Harwit

& Clark, 2001; Keith
& Lin, 2006; Tai, 2006).
Prohibited activities/materials/information related with the
Internet are placed in
nine broad categories by the Chinese government. These include
information that
(a) is contrary to the basic principles that are laid down in the
Constitution, laws, or
administration regulations; (b) is seditious to the ruling regime
of the state or the
system of socialism; (c) subverts state power or sabotages the
unity of the state;
(d) incites ethnic hostility or racial discrimination, or disrupts
racial unity; (e) spreads
rumors or disrupts social order; (f) propagates feudal
superstitions; disseminates
obscenity, pornography, or gambling; incites violence, murder,
or terror; instigates
others to commit offences; (g) publicly insults or defames
others; (h) harms the
reputation or interests of the state; or (i) has content prohibited
by laws or administra-
tive regulations (pp. 13-14; Cheung, 2006; Dai, 2000; Human
Rights Watch, 2006,
pp. 18-19).
Despite its great effort, the effectiveness of China’s Internet
censorship is unclear.
Although some argued that it is very questionable (e.g., Deibert,
2002; Lacharite,
2002), others viewed it as effective (e.g., Kalathil & Boas,
2001) and even as “the
most sophisticated effort of its kind in the world” (Open Net
Initiative, 2005).

Though there are many ways to circumvent the government’s
Internet filtering,
such as use of proxy servers, private emails, and manipulating
one’s search (Abbott,
2001; Dai, 2000; Deibert, 2002; Lacharite, 2002; Zittrain,
2004), there still lacks
knowledge of how many Chinese Web surfers adopt such
approaches (Human Rights
Liang and Lu 107
Watch, 2006). One common finding is the inconsistent
enforcement of China’s Inter-
net filtering. Studies show that Internet blocks have come and
gone, and the content of
blocks also varies from time to time, most likely because of the
fact that there is no
coherent and consistent decision-making process (Hartford,
2000; Sohmen, 2001).
Another finding is the extensive scope of China’s censoring,
covering not only politi-
cal issues but also issues such as crimes and economics
(Hartford, 2000; Open Net
Initiative, 2005). Empirical testing of the Chinese filtering
system also found that the
filtering system is rather dynamic and has been self-changing
and refining over time
(Open Net Initiative, 2005). In sum, China’s Internet control
represents an “imperfect
control,” aiming at keeping the vast majority from sensitive
materials and preventing
the nonconforming small minority from mounting a real
challenge (Hartford, 2000).

Self-censorship. In addition to setting up technological
restrictions to Internet infor-
mation at the infrastructure level, the Chinese government also
put high pressure on
businesses and individuals to conform to its censorship in
Internet commercial and
social use. For instance, governmental regulations after 2000 set
a priority instituting
self-regulation and increasingly delegated policing power to
nonstate sectors (Cheung,
2006; Endeshaw, 2004). Given their limited choices, high
governmental pressure, and
potential stiff penalties, adopting “self-regulation” and
complying with state censor-
ship seems to be the only viable option to business owners. In
March 2002, for
example, the Internet Society of China (ISC) issued a “Public
Pledge on
Self-Discipline for the China Internet Industry” (zhongguo
hulianwang hangye zilü
gongyue) in Beijing, establishing the foundation of domestic
self-discipline mecha-
nism (Endeshaw, 2004, CNNIC Web site). Given the broad and
vague nature of
government regulations, many businesses decided to play safe
and end up with even
more sweeping censor mechanisms (e.g., Human Rights Watch,
2006; Sohmen, 2001).
China’s surveillance system also target foreign business
investors in China. The
Chinese government gained technical support from foreign
companies (e.g., Cisco,
Sun Microsystems) in building its Internet infrastructure (e.g.,
Qiu, 2003), yet required
Internet corporations such as Google, Inc., Yahoo!, inc.,

Microsoft Corp., and Skype
to comply with Chinese laws and regulations and to modify
their Chinese version of
search engines to filter sensitive information (Battelle, 2005;
Fry, 2006; Hinman,
2005; Human Rights Watch, 2006). In 2002, Yahoo! also
voluntarily signed the
“Public Pledge on Self-Discipline for the China Internet
Industry” (Dowell, 2006;
Human Rights Watch, 2006). Despite strong criticism from
human rights activists,
these corporations have justified their censoring as necessary
compliance with local
laws to run business (and the Chinese market is simply too large
to ignore). Moreover,
foreign investors are specifically prohibited from owning,
operating, or managing
telecommunications services in China. Even after its entry into
the World Trade Orga-
nization (WTO) in 2001, the Chinese government carefully
controlled its
telecommunication industry: foreign ownership is capped at
50% for value-added ser-
vices and 49% for mobile telephone and domestic and
international services (Pangestu
& Mrongowius, 2002). Despite great hope by many (e.g., Dai,
2000; Deibert, 2002;
Harwit & Clark, 2001), the impact of WTO on China’s
democracy in general and
Internet censorship and control in particular remains unclear.

Multidimensional regulations. China’s legislation over Internet
use and development
has definitely grown and become more comprehensive over
time. The increasing leg-
islation also accompanied a series of changes in regulating
agencies. As Tan (1999)
delineated, the pre-1994 era represented an experimental era
characterized as a frag-
mented structure without a single authority; from 1994 to 1998,
China witnessed a
transitional period, during which a single regulatory
coordinator, the State Council’s
Steering Committee of National Information Infrastructure, was
established to negoti-
ate and cooperate with other governmental agencies; in 1998,
the Chinese government
merged the existing Ministry of Post and Telecommunications
with the Ministry of
Electronics Industry to form one major single regulator, the
Ministry of Information
Industry (MII). Since then, the MII has become the dominant
regulator of China’s
telecommunications industry.
Given the complex and comprehensive scope of China’s Internet
regulations, how-
ever, many other agencies (e.g., State Council, Ministry of
Public Security (MPS),
Ministry of Culture, and State Secrets Bureau) still have
regulatory authorities in
Internet use and development and remain actively involved
(Open Net Initiative,
2005; Zheng, 2008). While making comprehensive Internet
control possible, the
involvement of multiple agencies and players also creates
inefficiency, redundancy,

uncertainty, and confusion (Endeshaw, 2004; Qiu, 2003). In
addition, the lack of sepa-
ration between state-owned operation and regulation (e.g., the
MII is closely involved
with China Telecom which owns CHINANET) may enable
agencies with regulatory
power to directly obtain financial gains (Sohmen, 2001).
One direct result of such a multidimensional regulatory system
is the comprehen-
sive scope of agency regulations. Laws and regulations enacted
over time cover a
broad range of issues from infrastructure construction to
Internet network security,
Internet domain names registration, computer encryption,
management of online busi-
ness operation, Internet news reporting and publication, and
copyright protection. For
example, regulations in April 1996 stipulated that all domestic
computer systems
could only be connected to Internet Interconnecting Networks
via the gateways estab-
lished and managed by the Ministry of Post and
Telecommunications (which was later
merged into the MII). The Administration of the Maintenance of
Secrets in the Inter-
national Networking of Computer Information Systems
Provisions in 2000 prohibited
Internet users from sending state secrets via email or discussing
state secrets in Inter-
net chat rooms or on bulletin boards. The Administration of
Engagement by Internet
Sites in the Business of News Publication Tentative Provisions
in 2000 and Interim
Regulations for the Administration of the Internet Publications
in 2002 tightened con-

trol over Internet news reporting and publication. Based on
both, the only bona fide
news is official news from government sources such as the
Xinhua News Agency and
the People’s Daily (renmin ribao); Internet organizations cannot
cite foreign news
without official approval; all online publications must be
inspected and approved as
well. The Regulations on the Administration of Business Sites
of Internet Access
Liang and Lu 109
Services in 2002 (replacing the old one in 2001) requires that
Internet business owners
(e.g., Internet cafés) keep records of users’ information for 60
days for government
inspection purpose.
Besides its broad scope, there are a number of other features
about China’s legisla-
tion over time. First, China’s legislation is often vague and
uncertain in nature. For
example, the key term “state secret” was ill-defined in the 2000
regulation cited above
(Tai, 2006). Some scholars (Cheung, 2006; Endeshaw, 2004;
Keith & Lin, 2006;
Weber, 2002) pointed out that the Chinese government did this
on purpose to ensure
ample room for its interpretation and manipulation. In addition,
the uncertain and
unspecified broadness holds Internet business owners and users
in constant fear and
therefore strengthens their self-censorship (Cheung, 2006).

Second, many regulatory
measures are often post hoc reactions to unpredictable
conditions (Endeshaw, 2004;
Qiu, 2003). As a result, many key regulations have been revised
and refined over the
years to “bring social and economic life in line with a priori
principles and expecta-
tions” (Endeshaw, 2004, p. 46). Third, many laws and
regulations overlap and create
redundancy and confusion sometimes (e.g., due to different
expectations and require-
ments between the Communist Party and the central
administration), and such
confusion is reflected in the lack of coherent and consistent
decision-making pro-
cesses and inconsistent enforcement (Endeshaw, 2004; Sohmen,
2001; Qiu,
1999/2000).
Internet Development and Democracy,
E-Government, and Civic Engagement
Internet & democracy. Given China’s Internet censorship and
authoritarian polity, a
question, often asked, is the relationship between Internet
development and democra-
tization in China. There is a strong belief that Internet
development, free flow of
information, and formation of civil cyber groups pose potential
threat to authoritarian
regimes and China is no exception (Kluver, 2005; Tai, 2006;
Taubman, 1998; Yang,
2003). However, Internet use and development in China has so
far failed such an
expectation (Kalathil & Boas, 2001) and some even argue that
the Internet has become

a new tool for governmental control (Tsui, 2003).
One possible answer could be found in the profile of Chinese
Internet users. Besides
demographic changes over the years (e.g., greater Internet
penetration rate, lesser
gender and geographic disparity), one consistent finding is the
majority Chinese Inter-
net users’ apathy for political communications (Hong & Huang,
2005). Instead, the
majority of Chinese citizens use the Internet for gaming,
entertainment, sports news,
celebrities, and study and career opportunities (Kluver, 2005).
Furthermore, China’s
culture may have a role to play as well (Weber, 2002). Zhang,
Chen, & Wen’s com-
parative study (2002), for example, found that compared to
Americans, Chinese
Internet users are more supportive of a greater extent of
government involvement in
Internet regulation, consistent with Chinese citizens’ general
attitude toward a greater
role of the government in governing the society. It is not clear,
however, why the
majority of Chinese Internet users show little interest in
political issues. More empiri-
cal studies need to address how Chinese Internet users feel
about Internet use and
development, despite the heavy top-down approach adopted by
the Chinese
government.

E-government project. The Government Online Project (zhengfu
shangwang
gongcheng) was kicked off in 1999. As part of this project, all
government departments
are required to build their own Web sites and provide online
management and service
functions (Lu et al., 2002; Wang, 2002). Registered government
domain names (gov.
cn) increased from 323 in 1997 to 13,963 by July 2004 (3.7% of
the total registered
domain names), and the number of Chinese government Web
sites also amounted to
12,332 by 2004 (2.0% of the total Web sites) (Lagerkvist, 2005;
Zheng, 2008, p. 38).
Through its E-government project, the Chinese government aims
at reaching a
number of goals such as increasing government transparency
and organizational effi-
ciency, strengthening propaganda (e.g., the opening of Tibet
human rights Web site
recently, www.tibet328.cn), reestablishing legitimacy of the
Communist Party, con-
taining or eradicating more pressing political problems (e.g.,
corruption), and gaining
better control over lower-level and/or local cadres (Kalathil &
Boas, 2001; Kluver,
2005; Lagerkvist, 2005). In this process, governments at all
levels are encouraged to
take advantage of the new computer information technology,
and the central govern-
ment is eager to show its lead. On June 20, 2008, for example,
President Hu Jintao
hosted his very first online communication with Web surfers,
and Premier Wen Jiabao

followed suit on February 28, 2009. Such Internet
communication between users and
top national leaders was hailed as a significant step toward
“Internet politics” in which
Internet users’ political rights of information, participation, and
supervision were
honored.
These e-projects also have an impact on the legal system. Take
judicial reforms for
example. In 2009 the Supreme People’s Court (SPC) published
its Outline of the 3rd
Five-Year Reform of the People’s Courts (2009-2013). To
improve adjudication and
execution of judicial verdicts, the SPC proposes displaying
judicial judgments online
whenever feasible. Several courts such as courts in Beijing,
Henan, and Hebei have
already started such a practice as early as in 2003. By April 10,
2009, more than 160
basic courts and 50 intermediate level (appellate) courts have
reportedly adopted such
a practice, and a total of 59,744 judicial judgments have been
posted online at various
courts’ Web sites (News reported on April 10, 2009 at
http://www.chinacourt.org/
html/article/200904/10/352466.shtml, last retrieved on April 29,
2009; the Legal
Daily, December 17, 2008; the People’s Daily, March 17, 2009).
Most recently on
April 14, 2009, the official Web site of China’s courts
(www.chinacourt.org) also
announced establishment of free email boxes at all courts to
facilitate communication
between the courts and the public (News posted on April 14,
2009 at http://www

.chinacourt.org/html/article/200904/14/352922.shtml, last
retrieved on April 29,
2009). Such a practice echoed similar moves by many
administrative organizations
and leaders, which seemingly gained much support (Hartford,
2005). To go one step
further, some courts even started televising live trials online.
Liang and Lu 111
Civil engagement. It is not accurate that all Chinese Internet
users shun away from
political issues in China. Rather, their participation shows in a
unique form (often
event driven) at critical moments (sometimes unexpected).
Given the growing mass of
Internet users, their online response, reaction, and participation
have already created
an unexpected amplification of public engagement in some key
events (Dowell, 2006;
Zheng, 2008). Take the 2009 “hiding from the cat” event for
example. In January,
2009, Li Qiaoming was arrested for cutting down and stealing
trees and put into jail in
Jinning county, Yunan province. On February 8th, Li was
mysteriously injured and
died in a local hospital on the 12th. After a perfunctory
investigation, local police and
procuratorate announced that Li got injured when he was
playing a game called
“hiding from the cat” (duo maomao) with his jail mates. What
was unexpected after
the official announcement this time was the strong criticism and
questioning by Inter-

net users, and suddenly “hiding from the cat” became a new
online bomb.
Under the pressure to discover and disclose the “truth”, the
Chinese Communist
Party Propaganda Department in Yunan (CCPPDY) recruited
five Internet users to
form a special investigation committee (and two Internet users
even chaired the com-
mittee). On the 20th, the committee went to Jinning county and
conducted its
investigation. Due to lack of access to key evidence (e.g., the
coroner report, surveil-
lance tape of the jail, and interviewing jail mates), the
committee could not reach a
conclusion and simply posted its investigation process online on
the 21st.
On the 27th, the Public Security and Procuratorate officials of
the Yunan province
announced the result of its official investigation. According to
the report, Li was bul-
lied numerous times by his jail mates in jail and suffered
injuries. On the 8th, his jail
mates blindfolded Li and beat him up. Li’s head was hit and
bumped into the wall,
which eventually caused his death. Li’s jail mates made up the
story of playing a game
to cover the truth. The report also disclosed various violations
of prison management
rules and regulations by both prison guards and bully inmates
and called for further
action. As a result, one director of the procuratorate in Jinning
county was deposed,
and three jailmates were charged with assaults and sentenced in
August along with

two prison guards who were found negligent (information
summarized from various
Internet sources).
The “hiding from the cat” event finally came to a conclusion but
the term becomes
a new symbol among Chinese Internet users. It is true that
public engagement in major
events such as the “hiding from the cat” is nonsystematic,
spontaneous, and unpredict-
able. These events, however, do carry a great potential to shake
political-legal reforms
in China to some extent.
Cyber Crimes: Control and Evolution
In comparison to Internet censorship and regulation, studies on
China’s cyber crimes
(wangluo fanzui) are scarce. Similar to Western nations, cyber
crimes are broadly
defined in China to cover crimes that are committed with the
involvement of computer
information technology; cyber crimes are further classified into
two large categories:
one on crimes directly targeting computer systems and
information networks, and the
other on crimes committed through the use of computers and
their related networks
(Chen, 2004; Keith & Lin, 2006, p. 119).
Based on statistics from the MPS, Yu (2007) reported that the
total number of

investigated cyber crimes in China was a little more than 400 in
1999; it jumped to
2,700 in 2000, 4,500 in 2001, and reached 6,633 in 2006. These
numbers are no doubt
only the tip of the iceberg, as the Chinese official admitted that
the authority could
have only managed to investigate 20% of estimate cyber crimes
(News reported by the
Xinhua net.com in Tianjin on November 17, 2005, available at
http://www.tj.xinhua.
org/misc/2005-11/17/content_5613021.htm, last retrieved on
April 30, 2009). A report
from singtaonet.com in 2007 even listed China as the second
largest cyber crime
nation in the world, only behind the United States (News
reported at http://www.sing-
taonet.com/society_focus/200708/t20070810_595551.html, last
retrieved on April 30,
2009).
Laws and regulations. Cyber crimes are not regulated by one
single special law in
China. Rather, they are covered by a scope of laws and
regulations with a comprehen-
sive nature as discussed above (Zhou, 2009). The first effort,
the Ordinance for
Security Protection of Computer Information System issued by
the State Council in
February 1994, gave the MPS the overall responsibility to
supervise, inspect, and
guide the security protection of computer information systems
and “to investigate
criminal activities” that undermine computer networks, though
the ordinance failed to
specify the forbidden content (Tai, 2006).

The revised Criminal Law in 1997 (CL97) tried to formalize
legislation on such
crimes in articles 285-287. Article 285 covered unauthorized
criminal access to
computer-housed information concerning state affairs, national
defense establishment
facilities, and sophisticated science and technology; article 286
stipulated crimes of
deleting from, altering, adding to, and interfering with computer
information system,
causing abnormal operations and grave consequences, and
addressed the creation and
spread of viruses; article 287 covered crimes concerning the use
of a computer to carry
out financial fraud, stealing, embezzlement, the appropriation of
public funds, the
stealing of state secrets, and other like criminal activities (Keith
& Lin, 2006, p. 123).
To keep up with the new development of Internet use, the
Standing Committee of
the National People’s Congress further issued a Decision
Regarding the Maintenance
of Internet Security in 2000. The 2000 Decision places cyber
crimes within six catego-
ries: (a) crimes disrupting the safe operation of computer
networks; (b) crimes of
using the internet to fabricate and disseminate information
harmful to national secu-
rity and social stability; (c) crimes of using the internet to
disrupt the socialist market
economic order and the management of social order; (d) crimes
of using the internet
to violate personal, property, and other legal rights of
individuals, legal entities, and
other organizations; (e) illegal acts, using the internet, that are

not serious enough to
warrant CL97 punishment, but could not be alternatively
punished under the 1986
Provisions on Administrative Punishment concerning the
Management of Public
Security; and (f) civil infringement and liability committed
while using the internet
that are not serious enough to be punished according to either
the CL97 or the 1986
Liang and Lu 113
Provisions (Keith & Lin, 2006, p. 128). Besides these two major
laws (CL97 and 2000
Decision), many administrative rules and regulations are also
adopted to cover various
instances of cyber crimes.
Pornography and online gambling. Due to this comprehensive
nature of China’s regu-
lation, an array of crimes are targeted by the Chinese authority
such as online fraud,
selling illegal goods, libel, invasion of personal privacy,
manufacturing and dissemi-
nating computer virus, online gambling, and pornography
(Chen, 2004). Though
online fraud constitutes the largest group of cyber crimes, the
Chinese official has paid
more attention to online pornography and gambling, because
these types of moral
crimes are often viewed as serious challenges to socialist social
order.
In 1996, the Chinese authority took its first action against

pornography on the Inter-
net by adopting the Interim Regulations on the Management of
International
Networking of Computer Information. Article 13 of the
regulation stipulated that
“Organizations and individuals who get involved in Internet
business shall abide by
national laws, administrative regulations . . . shall not browse,
copy and disseminate
harmful information to public security, and pornographic
materials and information.”
Online pornography was once again prohibited under Article 5
of the Computer Infor-
mation Network and Internet Security, Protection and
Management Regulations
(December 1997). Section (6) of the Article 5 prohibits any
organization or individual
from manufacturing, copying, browsing, and disseminating
information that “propa-
gates feudal superstitions; disseminates obscenity, pornography
or gambling; incites
violence, murder, or terror; instigates others to commit
offences.” As usual, such regu-
lations on pornography could also be found among many other
regulations (Gomez,
2004).
One frequent target of the antipornography campaigns is
Internet cafés (wangba).
Since their first debut in 1996, Internet cafés have gained
tremendous growth. The
proportion of Internet café users as China’s total internet
population soared from 3%
in 1999 to 21% in 2001; the total number of registered cafés
reached 64,000 in 2002
and the number of users rose to 16 million in 2004, though the

percentage remained
relatively stable between 15%-20% from 2002 to 2004 (Hong &
Huang, 2005, p. 379;
Qiu & Zhou, 2005, pp. 266-267). Besides registered Internet
cafés, unregistered ones
in China are virtually uncountable. Though they are heavy
targets in crackdowns,
unregistered cafés (heiba, literally “black bar”) remain popular
and sometimes out-
number the registered one in some cities, and a total of 110,000
were estimated by the
end of 2003 (Hong & Huang, 2005). Many features of Internet
cafés make them popu-
lar among Chinese young Internet users, such as the private-
business nature, relaxed
regulation, low cost, convenience, and updated equipments and
services. Gaming and
group chat are very popular among Internet café goers and some
even search for cen-
sored information and express their political opinions with the
assumption that it is
easier to hide their identities there (Hong & Huang, 2005).
Nevertheless, online por-
nography and violent games are the primary concerns for
parents and the government.
China’s definition on pornography and violence are much
broader and the government
tries to stop both in the real and the virtual worlds.
Despite existence of various regulations (e.g., user registration,
record keeping,
prohibition of smoking, filtering of gambling, and pornographic

content, no entry for
those under 18, no Internet café in the vicinity of 200 meters of
elementary and middle
schools), enforcement by café owners is very relaxed in practice
(Qiu, 2003). The
government therefore has resorted to frequent crackdowns to
clean up Internet cafés
since 2001. In 2002, for example, followed a deadly fire at an
Internet café in Beijing
that killed 24, the government closed 3,300 cafés indefinitely
and 12,000 others until
they improved their safety measures (Endeshaw, 2004); in 2003,
another 27,000
unregistered cafés were shut down (Hong & Huang, 2005).
Since 2003, the govern-
ment has also tried to push forward a chain-store model and
hoped to tighten its control
through chain-store standard management (Hong & Huang,
2005; Qiu & Zhou, 2005).
The effect of such standardization, however, remains to be seen
and it is unlikely that
the chain stores will take up the whole market, especially given
the existence of many
unregistered cafés. In February 2007, 14 ministries and
commissions further issued
the Circular Concerning Further Strengthening the Management
of Internet Cafés
and Online Games, which regulates for the first time the virtual
currency transaction
in online games (CNNIC).
In addition to physical control over Internet cafés, the Chinese
government keeps
constant surveillance online via its infrastructural and
technological equipments and
skills (e.g., blocking and filtering pornographic Web sites;

Zittrain & Edelman, 2003),
and there are signs that the authority has stepped up such
surveillance in recent years.
For example, the MPS in 2007 announced 10 major cyber crime
cases that the author-
ity cracked in 2006 and 2007. Seven of the 10 were online
obscenity, pornography,
and prostitution-related cases (News posted by Xinhua.net on
April 13, 2007 at http://
news.qq.com/a/20070413/001256.htm, last retrieved on April
30, 2009). The CNNIC
also stepped up its role and has been exposing and cleaning up
Web sites where por-
nographic, vulgar, and degrading contents were found. Twenty
such Web sites were
exposed in the CNNIC’s ninth and tenth public postings this
year, and even foreign
investors such as Google were targeted (see the People’s Daily,
February 24, 2009;
http://news.sina.com.cn/c/2009-04-10/135817584966.shtml, last
retrieved on April
30, 2009; the Straits Times, January 6, 2009).
Compared to pornography, online gambling is seemingly less
prevalent in China
(especially given the increasing popularity of traditional
gambling), but the scale and
impact of such crimes is still staggering. Citing data from the
China Center for Lottery
Studies at Beijing University, Wang (2009) reported that more
than 300 billion Yuan
(RMB) were transferred out of China and were invested in
online gambling abroad in
2008 alone, and so did more than 600 billion Yuan in 2006.
Systematic data and
research on online gambling are extremely lacking and the

public only gains a glimpse
of the scale of such crimes through occasional news reports. On
February 15, 2009, for
instance, the largest-ever Shanghai online gambling case was
tried in Shanghai and
more than 20 defendants were sentenced to various terms of
imprisonment. These
offenders reportedly managed to build a rather sophisticated
online gambling scheme
and amassed more than 6.6 billion Yuan in 2006 and 2007
(Wang, 2009). As mentioned
Liang and Lu 115
above, much of online gambling action and funds was shoved
abroad to avoid tight
control and severe punishment domestically, making
governmental investigation more
difficult.
New crimes and regulations. In addition to traditional cyber
crimes, China also strug-
gles with many new issues of Internet use. Take the “human
flesh search” (renrou
sousuo in Chinese), for example, in the last few years. Though
targeted online people
search started as early as 2001, the term did not draw enough
attention until 2006. In
2006, a video clip was posted online in which a woman stomped
a cat to death with
her high-heeled shoes. Once the clip was posted, angered
Internet users initiated the
first mass search of the perpetrator. Soon she was found to be a
nurse in Heilongjiang

province. Under the pressure, her hospital fired her and she had
to make an open apol-
ogy for her misbehavior (information gathered and summarized
from various internet
sources).
As the “kitten killer” fell as the first “victim”, “human flesh
search” has quickly
become a powerful new tool by Web surfers to expose and hunt
for immoral and
unethical individuals who are labeled “human flesh”. Although
such a practice gained
more popularity and strength, concerns on potential abuse and
invasion of people’s
privacy started looming. In December 2007, a white-collar
worker, Jiang Yang, com-
mitted suicide by jumping off the 24th floor balcony of her
apartment in Beijing. In
her blog (written before her death), she blamed her suffering to
her unfaithful husband
Wang Fei and posted a picture of Wang and his new lover. After
her death, angry Inter-
net users, led by a college classmate of Jiang, turned to “human
flesh search”, posted
all detailed information of Wang and his family online in a
short time, and even sent
Wang death threat emails and painted curses at his place. Wang
lost his job as a result
and suffered tremendous distress. In March 2008, Wang sued
three Web sites where
his information was posted for cyber violence and privacy
violation. In February
2009, the people’s court in the Chaoyang district in Beijing
ruled in Wang’s favor and
awarded him 8,000 Yuan. This trial is quickly labeled as the
first case of “human flesh

search” and the first case of cyber violence, though public
debates continue to support
or question the use of “human flesh search” (information from
various internet sources;
Magnier, 2008; Wu, 2009). More recently in October 2008, Lin
Ming, from Anhui
province, tracked down his ex-girlfriend Zhou Chunmei, whom
he got to know online,
via “human flesh search,” and stabbed her to death in Xinxiang,
Henan province. In
April, 2009, Lin was convicted of murder and sentenced to
death by the Xinxiang
Intermediate People’s Court (information from various internet
sources).
Facing rampant use of the “human flesh search,” many people
including scholars
called for new regulation. While the central government is
moving slow, local govern-
ments took the first action. In January 2009, Xuzhou city in
Jiangsu province adopted
a new ordinance, the Computer Information System Security
Protection Ordinance in
Xuzhou City. The new regulation specifically prohibits misuse
of the “human flesh
search” and stipulates that violators could be subjected to a fine
up to 5,000 Yuan and
banned from accessing Internet services. Internet users who
favor the “human flesh
search” quickly question Xuzhou’s new regulation and believe
that it will carry a

negative effect on Internet use and development in China
(reports at http://tech.163
.com/09/0119/04/500BCRE0000915BF.html, last retrieved on
May 1, 2009; the
Guangzhou Daily, January 20, 2009; Ye, 2009). Amid
continuing debate, “human
flesh search” represents an example of Internet evolution in
China and the government
will definitely face more such challenges in future.
Conclusion
Since China’s first global Internet connection in 1994, a mere
15 years has passed.
However, China’s Internet development in such a short time has
been eye-catching
and China has already had the largest Internet users of the world
by 2008. The impact
of Internet use and development has been enormous and it is
evident in almost every
aspect of people’s lives in China. Such dramatic changes have
left ample room for
scholars’ research, potentially covering a broad scope of issues
and subjects.
Nevertheless, social studies on Internet use and development
have been primarily
concentrated on the implications of the Internet for China’s
democratization, and the
main concern is therefore state censorship, control, and
regulation (Tsui, 2005). As we
reviewed in this article, the Chinese government has, from the
very beginning, adopted
a “top-down, hands-on” approach in its plans and investments of
telecommunications
industry and tried to facilitate the national economic growth and
maintain its political

control at the same time. Tight control and regulation are
implemented through a mul-
tidimensional approach involving multiple agencies and players
and cover both
Internet infrastructure and commercial and social use. All these
requirements and
measures eventually are backed up by various laws and
regulations, aiming at a com-
prehensive control of Internet use and development.
Though there is strong hope internationally for China’s
democracy potentially led
by Internet development, free flow of information, and
formation of civil groups, an
increasing number of scholars are realizing that the Internet is a
double-edged sword.
As a technology tool, the Internet cannot be isolated from social
context in which its
use and development is inevitably intertwined with habits,
beliefs, and values in a
specific culture (Tsui, 2005). The borderless nature of Internet
information is also
subject to control of local laws and regulations within
boundaries (Goldsmith & Wu,
2006). China’s testing case seems to prove just that. This is not,
however, to deny the
great impact that the Internet has brought to the Chinese
society. We have seen ample
evidence, especially in recent years, that the Internet empowers
both the government
and the general public to move forward political-legal reforms.
Indeed, the Internet
provides another tool for the public to better participate in such
processes. To what
extent that this type of government–public e-interaction will
lead to democratization,

however, still remains to be seen.
Although Internet use and development prompted economic
development in China,
it also led to rising cyber crimes, a topic largely understudied.
Similar to its approach
toward Internet regulation in general, the Chinese government
combined its criminal
laws with many other administrative rules and regulations to
cover cyber crimes com-
prehensively (online pornography and gambling are such
examples). Besides
Liang and Lu 117
conventional cyber crimes, the Chinese government struggles
with new phenomena
such as the “human flesh search” and ponders the costs and
benefits of new legislation
and regulation. It is clear that China will face more challenges,
both legally and politi-
cally, in its further transition in the new century, and the role of
the Internet is still to
be unfolded.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared that they had no conflicts of interests with
respect to their authorship or
the publication of this article.
Funding
The authors declared that they received no financial support for

their research and/or authorship
of this article.
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Bios
Bin Liang is an associate professor in the Department of
Sociology at Oklahoma State
University–Tulsa. He has published numerous articles on crime
and the legal system in China.
He is also the author of two books, titled The Changing Chinese
Legal System, 1978—Present:
Centralization of Power and Rationalization of the Legal System
with Routledge (2008) and
China’s Drug Practices and Policies: Regulating Controlled
Substances in a Global Context

with Ashgate (2009). His current research interests include
globalization and its impact on the
Chinese legal system, crime and deviance in China, and the drug
court in Tulsa County,
Oklahoma.
Hong Lu is associate professor in the Department of Criminal
Justice at University of
Nevada, Las Vegas. She has published extensively in the fields
of sociology of law and
comparative criminology.
“Snitches End Up in Ditches” and Other Cautionary Tales*
Edward W. Morris
University of Kentucky
Department of Sociology
Patterson Office Tower 1569
Lexington, KY 40506-0027
[email protected]
* This research was supported by a grant from the Spencer
Foundation. I thank the staff and
students at Clayton and Woodrow Wilson High Schools for
sharing their time and thoughts with
me. I thank Joseph De Angelis, Aaron Kupchik for helpful
comments on previous drafts. The

views expressed here are solely those of the author.
“Snitches End Up in Ditches” and Other Cautionary Tales
ABSTRACT
This paper examines the “stop snitching” phenomenon in
relation to teenagers and schooling. It
shows evidence of a code against sharing information with
formal authorities among students at
two low income schools: a predominately black, urban school
and a predominately white, rural
school. Using Bourdieu’s concept of habitus, the analysis
demonstrates how anti-snitching is
woven into the social fabric of these communities, prompting
student ambivalence toward
school-sanctioned methods of conflict resolution. The findings
highlight the broad reach of the
anti-snitching phenomenon, situating this mentality as the result
of community-based distrust of
formal authority. The paper assesses implications of anti-
snitching for school discipline and
climate.
Keywords: School discipline; Criminalization; Urban education;
Rural education; Habitus

“Snitches End Up in Ditches” and Other Cautionary Tales
A mantra of “stop snitching” has become popular in various
communities throughout the
country. This motto – famously trumpeted by several hip hop
artists – appears on t-shirts, in
song lyrics, and in films. It discourages revealing information
to authorities that could directly
lead to a conviction, such as witnesses who are offered reduced
sentences in exchange for
providing evidence against their criminal associates. Recently,
evidence suggests that “stop
snitching” has broadened into a more general “street code”
(Anderson 1999; Rosenfeld, Jacobs,
and Wright 2003) which castigates any cooperation with police
or other authorities. Some might
adhere to the “no snitching” precept from simple fear of
retaliation, and some might genuinely
believe that cooperating with police creates more harm than
good. Regardless, the newest
incarnation of this longstanding ethos among criminals has
trickled out into larger segments of
society, including otherwise law-abiding people (Kahn 2007).

In this paper, I examine the “stop snitching” phenomenon in
relation to teenagers and
schooling. Based on a comparative ethnography of two low-
income high schools, I find
evidence of anti-snitching principles among students. My
findings build on previous research in
several ways. First, my findings demonstrate the burgeoning
purview of anti-snitching. I locate
an anti-snitching mentality among high school students who
were not career criminals, and even
among well-behaved, school-attached students. In addition, the
comparative design of my
ethnography examines a predominately black, urban school and
a predominately white, rural
school. Surprisingly, I found evidence of a stop snitching code
among students at both schools.
This research also extends existing literature by connecting
anti-snitching to research on school
disengagement. Previous work has understood “stop snitching”
primarily from the perspective
of criminological theories, but linking it to education-focused
theories can enhance our

understanding of snitching within the context of schools.
Specifically, I employ Bourdieu’s
concept of habitus to understand how anti-snitching becomes
woven into the social fabric of
some communities, prompting student ambivalence toward
school-sanctioned methods of
conflict resolution.
BACKGROUND
There is limited but informative research on the “stop
snitching” phenomenon. Most research on
anti-snitching stems from samples of active criminal offenders.
Rosenfeld, Jacobs, and Wright
(2003) interviewed street offenders, asking about their
perceptions of the police and police
informants. Their results revealed strong antipathy for police.
Interviewees recounted stories of
police bias, invasive surveillance, and brutality. In logical
extension, these interviewees reported
acute distrust of police, and no desire to aid law enforcement.
Even if interviewees stated that
they themselves were victimized, they still disavowed seeking
police help. These offenders thus
adhered to a “code of the street” (Anderson 1999) in which
“respect, security, and status come

only to those with the proven ability to take care of their own
business” (Rosenfeld et al. 2003:
298). These offenders emphasized resolving their own
conflicts, without interference from
external sources of authority.
Anti-snitching thus suggests an alternative set of group norms.
Topalli (2005) explores
the normative implications of snitching further, demonstrating
an inversion of norms among
street offenders, in which being “good” is interpreted
negatively. The interviewees in Topalli’s
(2005) study reported that it is wrong to “snitch,” or tell the
police any information about crime,
even if that crime could involve injury or death. This code of
anti-snitching was so ingrained,
respondents appeared to feel guilty if they had worked with the
police at all, and contrived
justifications for their cooperation to assuage this guilt (Topalli
2005; see also Rosenfeld et al.
2003). Thus, based on the small but informative literature on
anti-snitching, this phenomenon
appears to be an outgrowth of a street code among criminals

that inverts conventional social
norms. As Topalli (2005: 810-811) states, “where middle-class
people would be chastised or
sanctioned for failing to contact the police in response to
witnessed criminal activity, those who
inhabit the urban landscape (specifically hardcore offenders) are
sanctioned for the opposite.”
But many questions remain about the code of anti-snitching.
While groundbreaking, the
studies discussed above rely on urban and African American
samples of street offenders. How
do people not involved in criminal activity, but residing in low-
income urban areas, view
“snitching”? Anti-snitching has also been couched primarily in
the African American
community, interpreted as something emerging from the
historical distrust of the criminal justice
system (Kahn 2007; Pitts 2009). But what is the perception of
this code from people of other
racial/ethnic groups, especially those living in low-income
communities? Is anti-snitching a
“black thing” or does it result more precisely from conditions of
economic deprivation and
perceptions of inequality? “Stop snitching” has also been

interpreted as message that can
influence youth, particularly because of its promotion among
popular hip hop artists. However,
studies of this phenomenon have focused on adults and their
interactions with criminal justice
authorities. How might snitching be interpreted by youths, and
how might this influence their
interactions within schools?
Through this final question, I intend to merge criminological
and educational areas of
study concerning this problem. As I find, “stop snitching” has
implications not only for criminal
justice, but for more common enactments of school discipline.
Further, educational literature can
provide a different angle on anti-snitching, framing it as
indicative of a distinct “habitus”
(Bourdieu 1977) in which handling one’s own problems takes
strategic precedent over seeking
external means of enforcement. In criminological terms, this is
closer to a “value attenuation”
model in which distrust of law enforcement stems primarily
from interpretations that it is unfair,

rather than an entirely separate, subcultural value system (Carr,
Napolitano, and Keating 2007).
Students in my study employed practices under a context of
institutional skepticism, which
extended to school authorities. The students encouraged
standing up for oneself and resolving
conflicts independently, and discouraged telling school
authorities about altercations. To
understand this further, I turn to Bourdieu’s explanations for
school disconnection.
Stop Snitching and Habitus
The theoretical framework of Pierre Bourdieu (Bourdieu 1977;
1990; Bourdieu and Passeron
1977; Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992) has been influential in the
sociology of education. Habitus
is one of the more oblique and controversial of Bourdieu’s
concepts. It is most directly defined
as “a system of…dispositions which, integrating past
experiences, functions…as a matrix of
perceptions, appreciations, and actions” (Bourdieu 1977:82-83).
Bourdieu modified the concept
throughout his career. He employed habitus as a connection
between external social structures
and the internal guiding principles of individuals – a mechanism

through which people
internalize structured experiences and subsequently develop
strategies for future action which
reproduce and modify objective social structures. Although
habitus frames strategies for action,
it operates “below the level of calculation and even
consciousness” (Bourdieu and Wacquant
1992). Thus, habitus, as the name implies, consists of habitual
inclinations for action,
internalized by individuals without overt deliberation. It
consists of what feels “natural,”
“correct,” and “commonsensical” to people. It is more mutable
and logical than a “value
system” because people – individually and in groups – develop
a distinctive habitus based on
perceptions of material conditions, and this may be altered
through continuing experience and
interpretation (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992). People develop
unique dispositions and creative
strategies for action depending on the particular social
conditions and experiences they
encounter.

Applying the concept of habitus to anti-snitching, such an ethos
might stem from distrust
for external authority based on a collective or individual history
of negative experiences. Youths
socialized within communities where institutions such as the
police or the school are perceived
as historically unfair may develop skepticism of these
institutions. Further, the harsh
environments of disadvantaged communities necessitate
demonstrating toughness and handling
situations without the aid of external authority (Anderson
1999). These historical and structural
conditions combine to forge a habitus which discourages blithe
cooperation with external
authorities. This is not the same as adopting an alternative
value system in which criminal
behavior or school opposition is valorized. Anti-snitching,
from this perspective, is not the
frightening outgrowth of a subversive street code. Instead, it
simply reflects a practical
disposition against earnestly trusting and utilizing
institutionalized authority. It does not imply
absolute, abstract opposition, but rather a situated “logic of
practice” deploying strategic

resistance to particular enactments of authoritative power
(Bourdieu 1990) [1]. As Bourdieu
states, “people are not fools; they are much less bizarre or
deluded than we would spontaneously
believe precisely because they have internalized, through a
protracted and multi-sided process of
conditioning, the chances they face” (Bourdieu and Wacquant
1992: 130). As I will show, the
anti-snitching mantra does not necessarily indicate oppositional
values, but reflects a habitus that
disposes certain youths to resolve disputes independently and
view the intervention of
disciplinary organizations such as police and schools
pessimistically.
METHODS
Data for this study come from a comparative ethnography of
two high schools in Ohio. I
conducted fieldwork at these schools from January, 2006 until
June, 2007. One of the schools
was an urban school that I call Woodrow Wilson High School
(all personal and place names are
pseudonyms). At the beginning of my fieldwork, the student
body of this school was 91 percent

African American, with 76 percent of its students classified as
economically disadvantaged
based on free or reduced lunch status. The second school was a
rural school that I call Clayton
High School. Clayton’s student body was 98 percent white and
54 percent economically
disadvantaged at the beginning of my fieldwork.
My fieldwork consisted primarily of observations and
interviews. At both schools I
observed in classrooms, hallways, lunchrooms, after school
events, and school related
ceremonies. I visited both schools from 1 to 4 days per week
over the course of my research,
briefly recording observations in a small notebook. Upon
leaving the field each day, I expanded
these “jottings” into more developed fieldnotes (Emerson, Fretz,
and Shaw 1995). I recorded
notes as quickly as possible after observation, or in some cases
during the progress of that
observation (such as within classrooms), to increase fidelity
(Lofland et al. 2006). During the
process of fieldwork, I informally interviewed and conversed
with numerous teachers and

administrators. Because of the small size of Clayton (less than
350 students), I was able to get to
know teachers and administrators there quickly. At Woodrow
Wilson, a larger school of nearly
1,000 students, I focused on particular classrooms, where I got
to know 10 teachers well through
regular contact. I formally interviewed 31 students – 15 from
Clayton and 16 from Woodrow
Wilson. These interviews followed a semi-structured format
and were audio-recorded. I used
the technique of purposive sampling to vary the sample
according to gender and achievement
level within each school (Lofland et al. 2006). Sixteen of the
interviewees identified as “male”
and 15 as “female.” Seventeen interviewees identified as
“white” or “Caucasian” and 14 as
“black” or “African American.” The sample included students
near the top and near the bottom
of their class rankings. All students were either sophomores or
freshman in high school at the
time of the interview, and ranged in age from 14 to 17 years.
The comparative ethnography concentrated on intersections of
race, class, and gender on

school engagement. However, as an ethnographer, I remained
open to making new discoveries
in the field. This paper stems from one of these unexpected
discoveries. As part of my interest
in gender and school engagement, I asked students questions
about fighting and discipline, which
both have implications for enactments of gender as well as
school detachment. In the process of
this questioning, I noticed in the initial, open coding of my data
that several students at both
schools discussed “snitching,” although this was not a specified
question. I then coded data in a
more “focused” manner for the subtheme of snitching, linking
this to perceptions of discipline
and conflict resolution (see Emerson, Fretz, and Shaw 1995 for
a discussion of open and focused
coding). I then grouped the results of this focused coding into
themes relevant to snitching,
which form the basis for the analysis below.
FINDINGS
“You Haveta Get Respect”

My interviews initially revealed that physical fighting
constituted an important method of
conflict resolution at both schools, especially for boys but to a
lesser extent for girls (Morris
2008). I asked students if there was any acceptable way to
avoid fights or other sorts of
confrontation. Most said that social pressure virtually required
a person to physically fight if
challenged. Rather than describing this pressure as oppressive,
however, students at both schools
underscored the utility of “standing up for yourself” and
handling one’s own problems. This
mentality was part of the habitus that logically extended to anti-
snitching principles.
A boy named Travis at Clayton described the severity of the
environment and the
importance of gaining respect:
Travis: It’s worse [to try to avoid a fight]. At least if you get
the crap beat out of you
people are like “hey, at least you tried man, get ‘em back next
time” or something like
that, but if you try to get out of it you’re probably gonna get
beat up anyway and get
picked on. […] It’s actually kinda like a prison. Like if someone
is like dissin’ you or
somethin’ you haveta, you haveta like get respect…And if you
get disrespected you gotta

do something about it or…you get beat up or you get picked on
or somethin’.
In comparing the code within the school to a prison, Travis
emphasizes the importance of
achieving respect based on physical toughness and daring. This
ethos was so strong at both
schools that students appeared bemused when I asked them if
telling a teacher could be a viable
route to resolving a conflict. A boy named Roger at Clayton
stated that someone who employed
school authority instead of fighting would get called a “pussy.”
Roger told a story of a boy at the
school who was ridiculed for telling the principal and refusing
to fight and after another boy stole
money from him. I asked Roger what he would do in a similar
situation:
Edward Morris: Well like if someone steals money from you
like that, what would you
have done, would you have told the principal, or would you go
to them and try to get the
money back?
Roger: That – if they stole 150 bucks off me – I’d go straight to
‘em and kicked their ass
pretty good. If they didn’t give it back to me, I’d beat it outta
them.

This interest in personal conflict resolution reflects what
Bourdieu refers to as group or
“class” habitus (Bourdieu 1977). Students discussed a general,
taken-for-granted sentiment in
their milieu that emphasized particular actions regarding
conflict resolution. At both schools,
this sentiment encouraged individuals to address disputes on
their own, without the aid of
institutionalized social control. For many students – especially
boys, but some girls – this
habitus encouraged using physical violence to protect oneself
and others. Physical confrontation
allowed someone to avoid being seen as a “pushover” and gain
“respect.” Students did not relate
such sentiments to following a broader, overt anti-school and
anti-authority street code. Many
(including Courtney quoted above) invested considerable energy
in school and emphasized the
importance of academics. Instead, such sentiments better
represent a general, inculcated habitus
– “schemes of thought and expression” – that stressed certain
strategies of action based on
certain objective conditions (Bourdieu 1977: 79). These
schemes of thought operated “without

any intentional calculation or reference to a norm” (Bourdieu
1977: 80). Thus, students
described fighting and standing up for oneself as important,
useful strategies of action, and did
not necessarily interpret these strategies as delinquent or
oppositional.
Context: Distrust of Authority
Bourdieu (1977: 80) emphasized that group habitus stems from
sharing similar circumstances
and experiences, or what he called the “homogeneity of the
conditions of existence.” Students at
both schools shared present and historical conditions under
which external sources of authority
were regarded with suspicion rather than blind faith. Such
conditions formed a logical
foundation for the development of a habitus that emphasized
empowerment and protection
through personal actions rather than through institutions of
authority. This perception of
authority differed somewhat at each school. At Woodrow
Wilson, a predominately African
American school, perceptions of racial discrimination appeared

to play a prominent role in the
cynicism of authority (see also Anderson 1999; Hagan, Shedd,
and Payne 2005). At Clayton, a
rural school, this cynicism stemmed from the stigma associated
with family reputation (Batteau
1982; Duncan 1999).
Race-based Distrust
Race-based distrust of authority has been emphasized in much
of the research and popular
discussion of anti-snitching. For example, in an article about
the anti-snitching code, the
newspaper columnist Leonard Pitts (2009: D2) writes: “Yes,
some of us [African Americans]
have a well-founded and deep seated distrust of the criminal
justice system.” I saw evidence of
this skepticism from many students at Woodrow Wilson. For
example, “stop snitching” shirts
were prohibited at the school, but I observed students wearing
other shirts that suggested an anti-
criminal justice stance, such as one that read “if you see da
police…warn a brotha.” Such
suspicion appeared even more overtly on posters that U.S.
history students had made about their

perceptions of America. To be sure, these posters
overwhelmingly contained positive statements
and imagery. However, the sanguine statements were tempered
with cynical ones, such as
“America would be a better place without racism,” and “the
justice system in this country
sucks.”
This pessimistic stance towards the criminal justice system is
well documented in
predominately African American communities, especially in
inner cities. This has led many to
presume that the anti-snitching mentality is an African
American phenomenon. The comparative
design of my ethnography, however, revealed that “stop
snitching” is not just present in urban,
African American communities. I found evidence of the same
mantra at the predominately
white, rural school in my research. This demonstrates that anti-
snitching is not simply a
subversive street code championed by gang-influenced African
American rappers, as many
commentators have intimated (e.g. Kahn 2007; Pitts 2009).
Instead, my research shows that anti-

snitching emerges from certain experiences and conditions of
existence that have marginalized
people from institutions of authority. Some white rural students
in my research shared similar
experiences and perceptions of authority to black urban
students. These perceptions stemmed
primarily from family reputation in the community.
Reputation-based Distrust
Within urban areas, race creates salient dividing lines and
inequalities, particularly apparent in
predominately minority “inner cities” and predominately white
“suburbs” (Massey and Denton
1993; Bonilla-Silva and Embrick 2007). In the predominately
white rural area of my research
such distinctly racialized urban divisions were less noticeable.
A more conspicuous dividing line
in this community was family reputation, or “family name” as
they called it at Clayton. As in
many rural areas, especially in Appalachia, the community was
symbolically divided into “good
families” and “bad families” (Batteau 1982; Duncan 1999).
This meant that some families
carried a “bad” stigma, interpreted as backwards, lazy, and

deviant. Students at Clayton openly
discussed the importance of “family name.” Those who
professed to have a “bad” family name
often perceived institutions such as the school and the local
police to be unfairly biased against
them.
A student named Brent, for example, got in trouble frequently at
school for fighting and
other forms of insubordination. I actually took him out of in-
school suspension (where he spent
much of his school time) to interview him. In the interview,
Brent described how the elite
families in the community looked down on him and his family.
He suggested that this bias
against his family extended to the police: “Me and Clayton cops
don’t get along (laughs). My
family has a bad reputation with them.” In school, he
described fellow students from elite
families as the “preps” and stated that they “think they’re better
than everyone else.” Brent
intimated that preps and their families held power over major
community institutions such the

school and the police. He gave examples of how he had, in his
estimation, been punished
unfairly in school: “Ever’ time the principal gets a hair up his
ass he wants to call the cops on us.
And I can’t stand the cops. I do not get along with them.
So…that’s not good.”
This distrust of the police and the perceived connection between
police and school
administration encouraged Brent, like other students at both
schools, to emphasize resolving his
own conflicts. As he stated: “The way I see it – if you can
handle the problem by yourself there
is no sense in callin’ the cops.” At Clayton, students like Brent
who described having a “bad
family name,” were more likely in my interviews to eschew the
use of school or police authority
and to specifically invoke an anti-snitching mantra. These
students shared experiences and were
socialized into a mindset that produced serious misgivings
about school and police authority.
Such misgivings formed the catalyst for the development of an
anti-snitching mentality among
students at both schools.
“Snitches End Up in Ditches”

The skepticism regarding institutional authority and interest in
“handling the problem by
yourself” congealed into a habitus that discouraged snitching.
The lexicon of “snitching” was
perhaps derived from popular media, but it found purchase
among students at both schools
because of their particular conditions of experience.
Interestingly, various students at both
schools described this same anti-snitching code, including girls
and boys, and academically
engaged and disengaged students.
A student named Kaycee at Clayton stated that she “didn’t have
a good last name,” but
she performed well academically, participated in several sports
and activities at the school, took
advanced “college prep” courses, and planned on attending a
four-year college. Yet she also
portrayed an anti-snitching stance:
EM: Does anybody avoid fights by telling a teacher or telling
[the principal], like “hey
this person’s messing with me” – can that be done, or is that
worse?

Kaycee: Yeah, ‘cause they’ll still want to fight you after school,
so there’s no point. […]
They’re gonna be like, snitch! Snitch! Snitches end up in
ditches! [said like a chant].
EM: So there’s kind of a code in the community for not
snitching?
Kaycee: Right. Yeah, everyone knows that snitches end up in
ditches.
Previous research has assumed anti-snitching to be a primarily
urban, African American
phenomenon. But Kaycee depicts it as a community code in the
almost entirely white, rural
community of Clayton. This suggests that anti-snitching might
be more widespread than
commonly believed. And as the students state, this mentality
not only functioned within
community life, but also infiltrated schools, affecting school
discipline and conflict. Just as
street offenders in previous research (Rosenfeld et al. 2003;
Topalli 2005) eschewed working
with police, so too did my student interviewees eschew working
with school authorities.
Maintaining the Anti-snitching Code

This perspective on snitching might ostensibly point to an
inverted value system. However, a
deeper analysis of the interviews reveals a more flexible,
strategic assessment of snitching. The
mantra of “stop snitching” is associated with organized crime,
and earlier manifested itself in the
mafia enforcement of “omerta” or the code of silence (Kahn
2007). Interestingly, Janna at
Clayton referenced the mafia in her description of anti-snitching
social control:
EM: But if somebody’s gonna get, if somebody else is gonna get
hurt because of it
[snitching], like if the cops are gonna get into it, then it’s not
okay?
Janna: Like, if the cops are gonna come after you because they
know something is gonna
hurt you, maybe…But it’s like the mafia. It would be like the
mafia. And that way – it
would be wrong, but kinda right, like both. You should, but then
you shouldn’t. And plus
if you did, then they’d come after you then!
This quote demonstrates Janna’s ambivalence about snitching.
She indicates that in some cases,
snitching might be acceptable. She also appears to understand
how some might see anti-
snitching as wrong, saying it would be “wrong, but kinda right.”
Kenda, a student at Woodrow

Wilson, expressed a similar ambivalence when she said “like
they say that [telling a teacher is]
what we’re supposed to do, but it’s kind of messed up that we
can’t.” Students seemed to realize
that telling someone about a conflict was encouraged by formal
authorities, but strongly
discouraged under certain circumstances within their social
milieu. Thus “snitching” had to be
approached strategically.
Students perceived utilizing formal authorities as ineffective,
which can be seen as part of
a habitus that emphasized independent conflict resolution. A
girl named Shontae at Woodrow
Wilson said this:
You don’t want to do that [snitch] because it comes back to you
in a negative way. […]
Like I can understand telling an administrator or something like
“so and so just fought
somebody” or “they’re over there fighting,” like I can
understand telling something like
that. But if you’re telling somebody before it actually
happens…that just makes the
situation worse.

Students at both schools thus described anti-snitching as
internally ingrained, but also somewhat
variable. This highlights the “practical sense” (Bourdieu and
Wacquant 1992: 22) of the anti-
snitching code: it depended largely on the situation, and
students underscored that snitching was
less effective than resolving disputes independently.
As I mentioned, even high performing, school-attached students
demonstrated an anti-
snitching stance. Ivory at Woodrow Wilson, for example, was
actually the top-ranked student in
her class academically when I interviewed her. Yet even she
disavowed snitching:
Ivory: I think they would probably like just handle [a student
dispute] themselves instead
of telling a teacher or something like that. But then again when
I was in middle school
that [snitching] did happen. And everybody just got on the girl
for doing that. Because I
think she told one of her teachers […] So I don’t think, like I
don’t think people should
just go and tell it.
Thus, even a school-focused student such as Ivory thought that
snitching was not effective, again
emphasizing handling conflicts without interference from school
authorities. Such sentiments

should not imply the acceptance of broader oppositional values.
Ivory, along with many of my
interviewees, did not oppose school, resist authority, or adhere
to a criminal street culture. The
anti-snitching mentality instead emerged from a habitus that
emphasized self-reliance born from
logical skepticism of external, formal means of control. Anti-
snitching and subcultural values
are not the same thing – someone can be cynical of school or
police authority without opposing
education or criminal justice in the abstract. Ivory herself
makes this distinction quite clear.
Although she expressed and described an anti-snitching
mentality, she was a student leader of an
active peer-mediation group at the school. In this group, Ivory
and other students helped
classmates resolve problems themselves without the direct
intervention of school officials. Far
from an acceptance of fighting or other forms of
insubordination, this group worked within the
confines of anti-snitching norms to settle differences and
maintain a positive school climate.
Through this example we can envision ways forward for

research and school policy regarding
“snitching.”
CONCLUSION
This paper advances the sociological study of crime and
education in several ways. First, it
demonstrates the broad reach of the “stop snitching” mentality.
Previously, most commentators
located this code almost exclusively within the African
American community, and among street
offenders. My research reveals acceptance of this mentality
among teenage high school students,
white rural teenagers, and high achieving students attached to
school through participation in
school sponsored activities, clubs, and sports. My research
adds to previous work on snitching
(Rosenfeld et al. 2003; Topalli 2005) by finding anti-snitching
adherence among rural people as
well as people who are not hardcore criminal offenders. These
amendments call for a new way
of understanding anti-snitching which links it to an organic and
local outgrowth of current and
historical structured experience. It is not a function of race,
urban location, or criminal activity

necessarily, but rather a collective response to institutional
marginalization, which may be found
within a number of disadvantaged communities.
I suggest that Bourdieu’s notion of habitus helps explain the
problem of anti-snitching.
Habitus can capture the fact that “stop snitching” has indeed
become codified in certain
communities. However, because of the flexibility and
experiential basis of habitus, it does not
imply that anti-snitching is rooted in torpid oppositional values.
Instead, Bourdieu’s framework
emphasizes the structured experience (historical and current
marginalization from formal
authority) that forges a set of perceptions (distrust of formal
authority; emphasis on personal
dispute resolution), allowing for the nesting of anti-snitching
principles and strategies of action.
None of my interviewees were active criminals, and it is
unlikely that many will become such
criminals. Yet, they described a way of handling disputes that
differed from conventional rules
proffered by police, school, and middle-class America. This
does not mean that they adopted an

oppositional value system, just that they developed a different
strategy of action that
circumvented formal, institutionalized means of social control.
The concept of habitus also provides a different way for school
and other forms of
institutionalized authority to combat the problem of anti-
snitching. The “stop snitching”
mentality and the way many school authorities currently
respond to student disputes form a
seemingly intractable impasse. As many of my respondents
indicated, students should feel safe
and not intimidated in their schools (and communities). A
blanket social code against working
with authorities can compromise safety if not acted upon
appropriately by these authorities.
Much previous commentary regarding anti-snitching, especially
in the popular press, has simply
denigrated it as a subversive form of oppositional intimidation.
This view can lead to methods of
policing or school discipline that “get tough” with potential
troublemakers in a misguided
attempt to fracture this code (Rosenfeld et al. 2003). A similar
approach involves the use of

school resource officers to infiltrate student networks and
“establish a bond of trust” in order to
procure tips that could lead to student arrests (Newman et al.
2004: 281). My findings suggest
that such criminal justice-inspired policies would exacerbate the
code of silence. Because stop
snitching emerges from a logical and durable habitus based on
ambivalence to authority and an
emphasis on independent conflict-resolution, cracking down
with more authoritarian or invasive
measures would only increase the code’s strength. Particularly
if students perceive strict or
invasive school discipline as biased, they might resist school
authority more vehemently,
increasing the social distance between students and the school
(Kupchik and Ellis 2008).
A better approach to resolving student conflicts in low-income
schools is an active peer
mediation program. Ivory and some other students at Woodrow
Wilson engaged in this program,
but it was small and did not adequately pervade the school.
More active programs such as this
could be effective because they recognize and build from a

habitus emphasizing conflict
resolution among peers, instead of challenging this habitus by
threatening punishment from
external formal authority.
Finally, this paper suggests the need for more research in
criminology and sociology of
education on anti-snitching and perceptions of formal authority.
Future research might explore
other variations in acceptance of this mentality, such as why
law-abiding people in
disadvantaged communities might agree (or disagree) with “stop
snitching.” Gender could serve
as another interesting line of research. Most of the outspoken
critics of snitching and enforcers
of anti-snitching (both now and historically) have been men, but
my results do not show
discernable gender differences. Because of the relationship
between gender and crime
(Messerschmidt 2000; Miller 2001), there is probably more to
the story of snitching and gender.
This and other work on “snitching” has potential to teach us
more about how students perceive
school authority and suggest more effective and fair ways to
create a positive school climate.

NOTE
1. The notion of habitus used here is closest to the value
attenuation/procedural injustice
approach to urban youths’ distrust of police (see Carr,
Napolitano, and Keating 2007). However,
the concept of habitus can act as a bridge between subcultural
and value attenuation models
because it is a relatively “durable” product of objective
conditions which becomes ingrained, but
maintains flexibility and adaptive capacity.
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