Peaceful warriors: Codes for violence among adult male bar fighters

PEACEFUL WARRIORS: CODES FORVIOLENCE AMONG ADULT MALE BARFIGHTERS∗

HEITH COPESDepartment of Justice SciencesUniversity of Alabama at Birmingham

ANDY HOCHSTETLERDepartment of SociologyIowa State University

CRAIG J. FORSYTHDepartment of SociologyUniversity of Louisiana at Lafayette

KEYWORDS: codes for violence, ethnomethodology, fighting

Considerable theoretical and empirical inquiry has focused on the rolecodes for violence play in generating crime. A large part of this workhas examined the attitudes and codes condoning retaliation and violenceas well as the prevalence of these among minorities residing in impov-erished neighborhoods. Much about the nature of codes remains un-known, however, and this may in part reflect a narrow interest in beliefsabout provocation and uses of violence among the inner-city poor. Inthis study, we elaborate on a code of violence as part of a system of or-der and honor as articulated by a network of White, working-class malesin a southern U.S. city who participate in bar fights. The findings suggestthat the code these men use prohibits predatory violence, puts exclusivelimitations on situations that warrant violence, and constrains the levelof violence in a fight. We detail the contours of this code (e.g., purpose offighting, the rules of honorable fighting, and justifications for violatingthese rules) and discuss the code as both a cause and a consequence ofbehavior.

∗ We thank Mark Berg and Alex Piquero for their comments on earlier drafts. Di-rect correspondence to Heith Copes, Department of Justice Sciences, Universityof Alabama at Birmingham, University Boulevard Office Building, 1201 Univer-sity Blvd., Room 215, Birmingham, AL 35294 (e-mail: [email protected]).

C© 2013 American Society of Criminology doi: 10.1111/1745-9125.12019

CRIMINOLOGY Volume 51 Number 3 2013 761

mailto:[email protected]

762 COPES, HOCHSTETLER, & FORSYTH

The maturing “cultural turn” in the social sciences has reinvigoratedinterest among criminologists in the narratives and lives of offenders(Agnew, 2006; Presser, 2010; Sandberg, 2009a, 2010). This interest has beenoccurring alongside renewed attention to classic works on subculture andcontemporary efforts to sketch beliefs and codes that encourage violenceamong certain groups. Reinvigoration of attention to culture and subcul-ture has included recognition of variation in adherence to behavioral codesthat endorse the application of violence and differing views on the gen-esis and purpose of these codes. Whether investigators have conceptual-ized such codes for violence as understandings of the self, situational scriptsfor action, or culturally available toolkits, they have concurred that actors’thoughts on how to behave appropriately in situ intervene between cul-tural forms and action to determine when, where, and how actors behave.Most have agreed that subcultural codes contain general understandings ofhow to live and provide situational guidelines for action (Anderson, 1999;Stewart, Simmons, and Conger, 2002; Swidler, 1986).

Although it is apparent that subjective interpretations and meanings playa prominent part in violent crime commission, and this is clearly so for as-saults (Athens, 1997), codes for violence are not as well understood as onemight assume. There are exceptions that give thorough theoretical atten-tion to offenders’ views on the use of violence and what they are trying toaccomplish by it (e.g., Athens, 1997; Katz, 1988). However, most analysesof codes for violence have focused on those found among minorities livingin large metropolitan areas and typically have contained imprecise connec-tions between codes and high rates of violent crimes in these locations (e.g.,Anderson, 1999; Garot, 2010; Horowitz, 1983; Jacobs and Wright, 2006).Emphasis on the urban underclass belies the importance of codes for allpeople, including those living in areas outside the inner city (Jackson-Jacobs, 2013).

Additionally, despite considerable evidence for the predictive impor-tance of adherence to a code for violence on subsequent behavior, inves-tigators have not been in agreement about just what the codes are or howthey constrain behavior. Even within a single work, it often is not clear. In acritique of Anderson’s work on the code of the street, Wacquant (2002:1491) wrote that, “The code is variously described as a set of ‘informalrules,’ an ‘etiquette,’ a ‘value orientation,’ an ‘oppositional culture’ and theobjective regularities of conduct they prescribe, but also as a ‘script,’ a setof roles and their patterned expectations, a personal identity, a ‘milieu,’ andeven as the ‘fabric of everyday life.’” Questions about whether the codeis a way that inhabitants navigate local cultural context strategically, anacculturated presentation of self, a set of attitudes about acceptability ofviolence, or a resource to aid rationalization after the fact reflect thisambiguity.

CODES FOR VIOLENCE AMONG BAR FIGHTERS 763

In this study, we contribute to the growing literature on codes for vio-lence by examining how one network of adult, White males in a midsizedsouthern U.S. city make sense of their participation in bar fights. We arguethat examining common narratives in a purposively selected group providesinsight into the structure and content of codes for violence, and into howactors connect personal identity with subcultural identities. Specifically, wefocus on themes that actors use when discussing their reasons for fighting,rules that determine whether they cast violence as a respectable and nec-essary activity, and how understandings that endorse restrictive uses of vi-olence lead to combat that may or may not fit the ideal form. We revealan idealized code of acceptable violence in this group as well as a capacityto support and endorse the code despite inherent difficulties and evidentcontradictions when explaining fights.

Our findings speak not only to a particular code for violence but also tohow codes guide individuals more generally. Our participants are conven-tional in most aspects and strive to use force in a way that they and theiraudiences deem reasonable. We conclude with a discussion of how codesaffect these actors and how they use their code as a resource to constructmeaningful identities. Participants do not consider their code a strict deter-minant of behavior, a purely practical response to their environment, or asimple set of attitudes about when to use violence. Rather, they imbue itwith significant meaning as a reflection of inner integrity and honor, andthey cast their fights as more or less successful attempts to follow it.

UNDERSTANDING CODES OF CONDUCT

The study of subcultures that endorse violence has a long history, andinvestigators have emphasized different influences on the content and de-velopment of codes for violence (Cohen, 1955; Miller, 1958; Wolfgang andFerracuti, 1967). Whereas theoretical explanations of violence that rely onvalue systems often have emphasized distinct aspects and origins, investi-gators have agreed that codes for violence reflect that actors condone, jus-tify, or legitimize violence as a means of grievance resolution or vengeance(Anderson, 1999; Berg and Stewart, 2013). In deciding to commit violence,actors often draw on portrayals of honor as well as on shared understand-ings of tolerance of provocation to determine the appropriate response toconflict. Accordingly, far from being senseless and random, aggression ispatterned and expectable when considered in light of the subcultural valuesgoverning its use.

Wolfgang’s (1958) research on the prevalence and incidence of violencepaved the way for subcultural interpretations of violence by highlight-ing variation in the construction of meanings in confrontational situations


between groups and subcultures and by nesting these meanings in generalvalues and expectations:

The significance of a jostle, a slightly derogatory remark, or the appear-ance of the weapon in the hands of an adversary are stimuli differen-tially perceived and interpreted . . . . Social expectations of response inparticular types of social interaction result in differential “definitionsof the situation.” A male is usually expected to defend the name andhonor of his mother, the virtue of womanhood . . . and to accept no dero-gation about . . . his masculinity. Quick resort to physical combat as ameasure of daring, courage or defense of status appears to be a cul-tural expectation, especially for lower socio-economic class males ofboth races. (Wolfgang, 1958: 188–9)

Examining the cultural origins of violence led to an impressive body ofwork. However, the cultural perspective fell from favor beginning in the1970s partly in response to criticisms that the predominant analytic uses ofculture were overly deterministic and tautological (i.e., analysts assumedthat behaviors occur because people value them; Kornhauser, 1978). The1990s brought a new wave of theorists espousing refined models of culturalexplanations of violence that addressed these critiques (e.g., Anderson,1999; Sampson and Wilson, 1995; Wilson, 1996). This new work recognizedthat codes for violence characterize some communities—such as the urbanunderclass (Markowitz, 2003), inner-city Latino neighborhoods (Horowitz,1983; Vigil, 1988), African American neighborhoods (Matsueda, Drakulich,and Kubrin, 2006; Stewart and Simons, 2010), and Whites in the AmericanSouth (Nisbett and Cohen, 1996)—more frequently than others.

Ethnographers with an interest in codes for violence often have empha-sized urban decline, deindustrialization, and inner-city poverty as structuralsources of cultural or cognitive landscapes that contribute to high rates ofviolence in some neighborhoods (Jacobs and Wright, 2006; Sanders, 1994;Vigil, 1988), a finding that also has been borne out in the quantitativeresearch (Piquero et al., 2012). The attitudes and beliefs thought to re-sult from structural disadvantages also seem to influence violent behavior.Those in lower or working classes place greater emphasis on demonstrat-ing courage and the willingness to escalate conflict than those from higherclasses (Markowitz, 2003). Additionally, those who commit violence en-dorse some forms of violent crime (Mills, Kroner, and Hemmati, 2004), be-lieve that the use of violence serves important purposes (Stewart, Simmons,and Conger, 2002), perceive violence as a demonstration of admirable char-acter (Felson et al., 1994), emphasize courage and escalation in the face ofconflict (Markowitz and Felson, 1998), and endorse a code that calls forviolence in the face of disrespect (Berg et al., 2012; Matsueda, Drakulich,and Kubrin, 2006).


Much of this work has depicted codes for violence as practical devicesfor navigating an environment (Berg and Stewart, 2013). Where formalmeans of managing conflict are inaccessible, individuals find codes for vi-olence useful as means to establish familiarity with informal strategies ofconflict resolution. Over time, environments where persons commonly im-plement codes for violence impart strong incentives to acquire and abide byexpectations (Matsueda, Drakulich, and Kubrin, 2006). The most apparentincentive of violence is the control of threatening persons. In some commu-nities, adherents trust that personal or community abidance to a code thatdemands resistance in the face of insult deters violence, aggression, andother troublesome behavior (Anderson, 1999; Nisbett and Cohen, 1996).Even where there is no deep personal commitment to codes for violence,proximate persons may perceive that violent reputations and responses tothreat prevent interpersonal problems and keep others from marking themas outsiders or targets. Some also believe that severe or intimidating vio-lence incapacitates rivals and instills fear in challengers. In criminally vio-lent environments, to be feared or considered deadly has perceived advan-tages (Jacobs and Wright, 2006).

Despite the common theme of defending one’s honor and establishing areputation, subcultures of violence are not homogeneous in their proscrip-tions or in people’s level of commitment to them (Anderson, 1999; Athens,1997). Generally, people use subcultural codes to support violence in de-fense of honor, in the face of slights, or in establishing reputations as will-ing combatants, but codes also contain widely different boundaries on whatactions fit into acceptable reasons for violence and the extent and natureof the violence (Athens, 1997; Spierenburg, 1998). For instance, the code ofthe street as discussed by Anderson (1999) leads some adherents to accept aretaliatory ethic, to condone coercive threats, and to value physical aggres-sion (Brezina et al., 2004; Stewart and Simons, 2010), whereas for others,it is a defensive strategy for use only in threatening company. By contrast,scholars typically have cast the southern culture of honor as more defen-sive and more widely held than the code of the street. This perception iscommensurate with relatively narrow allowances for use of force (Lee andShihadeh, 2009). Adherents of a code prescribing measured responses toinsult and placing little value on mere capacity for callous violence typicallyderide unprovoked aggression or demonstrations of brutality (Nisbett andCohen, 1996).

The genesis and perpetuation of codes for violence is no less complexthan their content. In investigations of their origins, “emphasis often [hasbeen] placed on the isolation of residents from mainstream social networksand mainstream culture” (Harding, 2007: 342). Investigators have portrayedviolence as an outcome of a locally negotiated and traditional social or-der that is contingent partially on the reach of the state. Subcultures of


violence emerge where residents believe officials to be untrustworthy, in-accessible, unresponsive, and lacking authority (Sampson and Bean, 2006).In these places, it is difficult for the state to legitimize a monopoly on use offorce (Spierenburg, 1998). Nisbett and Cohen (1996) pointed to the lack ofa strong government capable of exerting authority in the American Southas a primary reason a do-it-yourself ethic and culture of honor developedand persists there. Anderson (1999) made similar claims about the genesisof the code of the street. Whereas cynicism about the state and legal author-ity theoretically birthed these codes, once established, inhabitants may takethem for granted and pass them across generations culturally even whenconditions change.

The links between history and culture of a place and individual behav-ior seldom are firm. Inhabitants often are diverse in background and be-liefs, their application of general rules to situations can be complex, andthey consider situational contingencies before acting. These are among thereasons that contemporary urban ethnographers have provided nuancedportraits of violent areas. The areas described exhibit a variety of culturalorientations—some conventional and some not. Harding (2010), for exam-ple, suggested that people in disadvantaged communities come into contactwith numerous and diverse cultural models, including conventional beliefsand oppositional ones. Young people may draw from these as needed, andwhen one strategy is not working, they can easily shift course “because an-other option is available—with local approval” (Harding, 2010: 349). Thosewho perform in some situations in accord with a violent culture or code doso not only as an adaption to structural constraints but also because theymodel common behaviors in their environment that are useful in local in-teractions (Sampson and Bean, 2006). In sum, cultures and the codes theycontain may be a general and soft reality that informs choices, and thosewho draw on a code are selective, skillful, and purposive (Sampson andBean, 2006). Recent assessments of the importance of codes on violencehave harkened soft determinism. Theorists have asserted that adherenceto a code for violence increases the likelihood for violence, but they havegiven attention to choice, situational considerations and interpersonal con-tingencies, enactment options, and related beliefs and lifestyles (Sampsonand Bean, 2006).

If culture and codes propel action directly, then we would expect ad-herents to a code for violence to act in accordance with it in situationswhere the code is salient, but considerable evidence suggests that eventhose who espouse the code of the street often do not seek retaliation whenwronged and respond in other ways that are inconsistent with their code(Garot, 2010; Topalli, 2005). People do not slavishly follow codes of con-duct (DiMaggio, 1997). Instead, actors choose from available cultural mes-sages and what they know works for them, and they construct lines of action


strategically rather than by adhering to singular, deterministic, and sociallyimposed models for behavior (DiMaggio, 1997).

That said, upholding codes is important to individuals. Statistical links ofcodes to behavior evidence this, as does the fact that when adherents act indiscord with their code, they seek to excuse or justify their actions (Copes,Brookman, and Brown, 2013; Rosenfeld, Jacobs, and Wright 2003; Topalli,2005). Attempts at aligning their behavior with subcultural expectations es-tablish that they embrace the belief system, despite behavioral departures.Careful attention to how adherents portray and apply codes reveals muchabout the significance of codes, about the mental effort devoted to evaluat-ing proper application, and about complexities and nuances of drawing ona code to make decisions (Topalli, 2005). By examining accounts, investiga-tors can sketch the contours of a code and related beliefs and behaviors—instances when there is disjuncture may be valuable (Maruna and Copes,2005; Scott and Lyman, 1968).

Codes may be more than causes of behavior. Individuals also may usethem after the fact to evaluate and make sense of behavior. This approachhas led some to suspect that codes are rationalizing stories that people tellto explain misdeeds, and that codes, therefore, are causally insignificant(Kornhauser, 1978). However, even if offenders use codes after the fact,their use is important for understanding and communicating belief systems.Those who have adapted an ethnomethodological approach to examiningcodes of conduct have perceived codes as shared conversational devices ac-tors use to account for actions (Wieder, 1974). Investigators in this traditionhave examined how actors tell codes to understand their form and to exam-ine functional components of accounts or what individuals are doing whenthey draw on a code to explain action. Considering codes as retrospectiveevaluative devices does not preclude the fact that codes and cultures predictand predate individual behavior. Culturally prevalent codes shape actors’thoughts, decisions, and behaviors to some degree; however, actors alsocall forth codes when making sense of completed action. As such, “codesare causes and consequences of conduct” (Jimerson and Oware, 2006: 45).

FORMULA STORIES AND BEHAVIORAL CODES

An investigator can observe the form of a code or cultural belief whenindividuals relay thematically similar stories or refer to patterned behav-ior and thinking among groups with whom they identify. One reason forinterviewing offenders is that they use recurring storylines to explain whothey are and what they do. That is, actors rely on shared narratives or sto-rylines to situate their actions and selves within larger structures. Loseke(2007) described how formula stories (which exist at a cultural level) areessential for the construction and representation of identities. Formula


stories refer to “narratives of typical actors engaging in typical behav-iors within typical plots leading to expectable moral evaluations” (Loseke,2007: 664). They help people perpetuate symbolic codes and reveal whatpeople value, what they know, and how they should behave. By relyingon formula stories, actors link personal experiences and behaviors with aculturally meaningful group (one that listeners understand) for effectivecommunication.

For offenders, formula stories can be convenient devices to show thattheir behaviors are not unusual or are easily understandable, if not benignand honorable, if considered in the proper cultural context. Such storiesreflect larger cultural goals and values, and they situate individuals in spe-cific cultures. Thus, street offenders articulate the code of the street to jus-tify violence, real hustling dope fiends separate themselves from incapablesick addicts (Faupel, 1991), and white-collar offenders tell stories of pro-viding middle-class lifestyles for their families when accounting for crimes(Klenowski, Copes, and Mullins, 2011). Brookman, Copes, and Hochstetler(2011) discussed how robbers use the code of the street to plot storiesof instrumental violence. They argued that the conversational use of thiscode allows violent offenders to present themselves in the best possiblelight and aids in contextualizing acts. By demonstrating that their violenceemerged from the disrespect or gullibility of victims, offenders save face,construct identity, and impart a great deal about the contexts and environ-ments where they operate.

As formula stories are general forms, the fit of an individual narrative toa formula story often is something that speakers negotiate and work outas the story unfolds. Whether fitting a narrative to such a story or playingit against the story by explaining and rationalizing unexpected departures,narrators affirm codes relevant to themselves and the audience. Thereby,they depict experiences generally and simultaneously portray themselvesas upholders of a pattern of beliefs and related lines of action.

In this study, we use explanations of fights by a small network of working-class, White males residing in the American South to add to our under-standing of codes for violence. By focusing on a group seldom studied whenexamining violence, we show that such codes are not restricted to the urbanunderclass and minorities. In addition to detailing the content of a code,we seek to contribute to understandings of how acceptance of codes con-tributes to discrete violent acts and how individuals use codes to make senseof actions retrospectively.

METHODS

We base our findings on the narratives of 23 men who had been in mul-tiple fights with nonfamily members as adults. These individuals lived in or


near the city of Lafayette, Louisiana (population 120,623 as of 2010). Likemost midsized cities in the southern United States, Lafayette has aboveaverage crime rates, especially violent crime. The number of assaults per100,000 people in Lafayette was 579, whereas across the United States it was254. The city’s population is primarily White (63.5%) and Black (30.9%).The poverty rate is high (19.8% in 2010). The most central industry in thetown is oil and gas extraction.

We located interviewees with the help of a lifelong resident who has a his-tory of offenses related to drinking and fighting, and who is known for beinga street fighter. He reported being in numerous bar fights (too many to listprecisely), and several tavern owners have banned him entry for fighting.Although he has been arrested for disorderly conduct (including fighting),he denied taking part in other illegal activities and had no felony record.The recruiter relied on personal contacts and snowball sampling to locatethe sample.

The goal of sampling in qualitative research is to reach a point of satu-ration (i.e., that no new themes are introduced from adding participants).Previous investigations into the number of participants needed have sug-gested that saturation can be reached with as few as 12 with a homogeneouspopulation (Guest, Bunce, and Johnson, 2006). Although no clear numbersare available on what sample size is needed to reach saturation, we believethat we achieved saturation on the concepts under investigation with thissample of 23 men. By interview 20, we no longer had responses that de-parted significantly from existing interview themes. Nevertheless, we askedthe interviewer to secure more interviews to ensure saturation.

To be eligible, participants had to be White and male, and they hadto have been in at least one nondomestic, physical fight within the past 3months. The reason for restricting the racial composition of the sample wasour hope to delve more deeply into how a particular group of persons (i.e.,those inhabiting a social sphere of predominantly White, working-class tav-erns and neighborhoods) thought about fighting and their social world. Wedid so to act as a counterbalance to the numerous studies that focus on ur-ban, minority youth (see also Jackson-Jacobs, 2013). With such a purposivestrategy, generalization to other populations is hazardous.

All the individuals we approached agreed to the interview, but one mannever could arrange his schedule for a meeting time and was not inter-viewed. The age range of participants was 22 to 48; the average participantwas 33 years of age. All participants feasibly can be classified as workingclass using their occupations and educational backgrounds at the time ofthe interview. Twenty were employed. The work these men performed in-cluded various labor jobs, such as plumbers’ assistants, general contractors,and positions related to oil extraction. Two participants owned businesses(one a small restaurant and the other a screen-print shop). All graduated


high school. Six participants graduated college or community college, butnone worked in the white-collar workforce, in their major, or had advanceddegrees. Eight participants were married. Whereas nearly all participantshad been arrested for behaviors they defined as “little things, nothing seri-ous,” only one served time in prison. The majority identified with a Cajunancestry, which is common in the area.

When asked how many fights they had been in as adults, all participantshad a hard time providing accurate numbers and most provided rangesor estimates instead, which is common when repeat offenders report theircrimes (Shover, 1996). The estimated number of fights ranged from 5 to 50.The median range offered by participants was 12 to 15 fights. From theirdescriptions, participants had a high threshold for counting altercations asfights. They did not consider verbal arguments or quickly interrupted scuf-fles as fights.

We constructed an interview guide based on a consultation with the re-cruiter and prior literature on males who engaged in street fights (e.g.,Oliver, 2001). The recruiter also served as the interviewer. We trained himon proper interviewing techniques, such as probing and active listening. Inaddition, we listened to each of the first five interviews and offered feed-back on how to improve or modify the interviews. Although he followedthe same interview guide throughout, we read interviews as they progressedand encouraged him to pursue a few themes that he or we identified.

Qualitative researchers who hire insiders to interview do so to enhancerapport between interviewer and participant. There are limitations whenusing insiders, however. One primary limitation is that some participantsmay think it unnecessary to expand on details because they think the in-terviewer already knows the answers, which can leave much unsaid. Layinterviewers also may not perceive things as significant to scholarship, in-teresting, or worthwhile for further probing. Despite these limitations, webelieve that having an insider conduct the interviews was beneficial for im-proved rapport and diminished concern that our presence might change thetone or material in the conversation. Also, counteracting the interviewer’sdisadvantage of inability to notice themes relevant to a literature is validitygained because a nonacademic is less likely to push participants in a certaindirection to support a theoretical perspective.

We opted for semistructured interviews because they allow respondentsto answer questions with minimal direction from the interviewer and leadto a more natural description of events. The interviews covered topicsabout participants’ general thoughts on fighting (e.g., general reasons forfighting, importance of fighting, acceptability of walking away from fights,feelings after fighting, or walking away from a fight). Here, the intervieweralso asked about “codes” for fighting, reputations developed from fighting,and the importance of winning and losing fights. Although we refer to them


as codes, the interviewer used this expression sparingly in the interviews.Instead, he asked participants about such things as whether they have seri-ously injured anyone or been injured in a fight, whether warning should begiven before initiating the fight, the differences the participants saw in fairand unfair fights, and acceptable rules for fighting. Although he followed aninterview guide, the natural flow of conversation that we encouraged, theliberty to change the wording and order of questions, and the interviewers’familiarity with the respondents resulted in loosely structured interviews.In addition, the interviewer asked participants to describe their most recentviolent encounter (excluding family and friends) that occurred in public.

The interviewer conducted the interviews in private locations such as hishome, the home of interviewees, or the homes of others they both knew.When recruiting participants, our contact explained that everything wouldbe kept confidential and that there would be no financial compensation forparticipation. The interviews lasted between 30 and 45 minutes, and the in-terviewer recorded them with each participant’s permission. We transcribedthe interviews verbatim; however, on occasion we edited the text by drop-ping superfluous filler words and sounds, as well as using punctuation forclarity and readability. We also removed identifying remarks and assignedaliases to each.

To ensure interrater reliability in coding, each of us read the excerptsindependently to identify relevant and common themes. We coded usingstrategies consistent with grounded theory, including open coding and axialcoding (Charmaz, 2006). We began our open coding by reading electronicversions of the transcripts and marking notes with editing functions in aword processor. We then compared coding and came to agreement on axialcodes (theoretical and logical grouping of open codes). On the few caseswhere we differed on coding, we discussed the discrepancy and reachedagreement. We then recoded transcripts using the axial codes we devel-oped, which are reflected in the major themes discussed in the results.

PURPOSES OF FIGHTING

The participants portrayed themselves as “peaceful warriors” who nei-ther sought out violent confrontations nor ran from them. They describedacceptable purposes for violence that went beyond the obvious notion ofprotection, although this was an important reason. Even when they pro-vided protection as justification, the narrator imbued the moral of the ac-count with broader notions of respect and the necessity of standing upagainst aggressors as a matter of principle. Often, they wove motives forviolence together with judgments of honorable behavior and the abilityto back up claims, and they presented much of this by referring to appro-priate manly behavior. Fighting also meant solving problems immediately,


without lingering discussions, and it avoided uncomfortable or emotionalnegotiations. Participants depicted it as a pragmatic deterrent of future in-sults and altercations: Violence taught lessons to those who insulted andthose who might consider insulting in the future.

VERIFYING MASCULINE CHARACTER

Defending and verifying character is a major motivator for violenceamong urban and rural residents in the United States and abroad(Anderson, 1999; Brookman et al., 2011; Nisbett and Cohen, 1996). Ourparticipants were not exceptions, and many tied this belief directly to mas-culinity. When asked why it was important to fight when confronted, Kevinsaid:

I think it’s important to show who you are as a man, how you feel aboutyourself, and how you feel about your friends and loved ones. [To show]that you’re there to protect them. People, even your friends, need toknow that you’re there for them, that you’re there for yourself, thatyou have the strength to stand up for yourself and kinda prove you’re aman.

David said the willingness to fight allows people to “keep their pride in-tact. Just sayin’ that they’re not chumps.” Participants asserted that prin-cipled individuals know that their character is worth defending physically(Jackson-Jacobs, 2013).

They believed that fights were an important part of maintaining self-image. This belief was evident when we asked what they would think ofthemselves if they did not fight when insulted. In response to this question,David said, “I hate to use the word, but the word pussy comes to mind. . . .That you punked out and you couldn’t handle your own business.” Simi-larly, Kevin answered:

I’d feel guilty. I’d feel weak. I’d feel like I let myself down. I’d feel likeI let anybody else that was involved down. I’d feel like the other personinvolved got the upper hand. I’d feel like I lost something. And most ofall I wouldn’t feel like a man.

Eric said that if he did not fight he would think:

That I just wasn’t a man, straight and simple. I feel like if I’m testedand I walk away, if I didn’t fight that person or prove myself, you know,I’d just feel real down on myself and feel like I’m kind of a coward.They ain’t nothin’ more that I hate than feelin’ like a coward. So, if I’mtested, I’m gonna do what I gotta do to not feel like a coward.


Fighting affirmed a sense of self as a capable and dependable man, but alsoit fended off powerful negative emotions and shame from refusal to meetthe call when provoked.

Being perceived as men who are willing to defend principles was impor-tant for participants’ sense of self. Using violence was more than saving face;it served internalized and private purposes. A desire to uphold their char-acter led several participants to say that at times they were disappointeddeeply in themselves for not fighting. Kevin explained:

There’s times when I kicked myself for days for not hurtin’ somebodybecause I felt they disrespected me in front of people. And just to my-self, I felt less of a man. I felt guilty for not doing anything. I felt like achump. All around it affected me for a while.

Such statements reflect the idea that regret and damage to self-conceptand masculinity may linger longer than the pain caused by being struck orworries about legal consequences of a public fight. The imperative to fightin some situations buttressed notions of courage and the value of principledstances. As Dana put it, “You have to stand up for your principles. Youhave to stand up. That’s it.” Participants used fighting to reinforce valuedidentities and considered it part of what it meant to be a man of conviction.

Willingness to fight reportedly is not the same as eagerness to use aggres-sion unprovoked or for felonious purposes (Jackson-Jacobs, 2013). Thesemen condemned those who were set on fighting before they encountered alegitimate conflict. They believed that men should not contrive argumentsonly to demonstrate fighting prowess, and assault for robbery was inex-cusable. Participants often expressed these sentiments using stereotypes ofcriminals and brutes for contrast and by emphasizing a generally peacefuldemeanor (Hochstetler, Copes, and Williams, 2010). Dennis cast himselfas a “peaceful warrior” in contrast to “agro dudes that have something toprove and are just looking for trouble.” Similarly explaining the distinctionbetween the violent and the peaceful, Renee said:

Guys that work out and they just go out to the bars with their tightshirts that show their muscles, and they get drunk, and they go out, theylookin’ for a fight. That’s why they go out that night. You can tell whenyou see ’em. You know they lookin’ for something. That’s the type ofpeople that I think are like street people, thugs, you know. I considerthem violent people.

DETERRENCE

There was a pragmatic reason for a firm and unyielding stance in theface of challenge or insult. Fighters believed that by violently responding


to affronts they could prevent future insults and deter potential victimizers(Topalli, Wright, and Fornango, 2002). Kelly said that, “Without doing it[fighting], you’d just be a sitting duck. You’d be the one getting beaten up.Incidentally, laying the foundation to get beat up again, picked on, takenadvantage of, or exploited later.” Fred indicated that his latest fight wasbecause, “I didn’t want them to think that I was just some pussy. I wantedto show that I could take care of my business.” In short, some violence wasmotivated by the desire to communicate that aggressors had selected thewrong person to confront.

Beaten rivals from the past also show that violence can be an effectivespecific deterrent. As Dana said:

[If] you tell somebody not to keep hittin’ on your wife, and they’re notlistenin’ there’s gotta be consequences. . . . I told him to back off, andhe didn’t so I knocked him out. After that he never fucked with heragain. . . . [The police] wouldn’t have solved anything. Really, I solvedit. Maybe it wasn’t the way everybody wants it to be handled, but it washandled. I got my point across and it never happened again.

Renee emphasized that his violence was a response to an insult, and forhim the important thing was to show aggressors that they cannot insult withimpunity:

You give a man a warning, you ask him to respect it, and he doesn’twant to listen to you, that’s almost a sign of disrespect again. And ifhe already disrespected you once, he’s gonna disrespect you again, andhe’s gonna always disrespect you. So you almost have to use physicalviolence, not to say teach him a lesson, but show him that you’re notplayin’ around, and that you are willing to stand your ground and do itevery time you see him.

Participants believed that willingness to fight and decisiveness whenthreatened deterred a great deal of trouble, but winning drove home themessage that they could meet infractions with painful consequences. There-fore, it was sometimes important to demonstrate dominance, and not onlywillingness to engage. Al said, “If you half-ass kick somebody’s ass, theygonna snap and come back and beat the shit out of you or kill you or what-not. There’s no halfway ass kickin’.” In response to a theft, Renee said thathe had to teach the culprit a lesson by force and afterward added a verbalreprimand:

He tried talkin’ his way out of it, but I didn’t want to hear his talkin’.So, as soon as he was done talkin’, I just hit him, and I hit him ’til I cut


his eye, and I stopped. I told him, “Take your ass-beatin’ like a man,”and I walked back to the bar and he left.

By telling his opponent to follow the rule against retaliation for an hon-orable fight, he affirmed that the contest had ended, that the conflict wassettled, and that no future violence should follow.

For those who believe in the deterrent value of fighting, the fear of com-bat can be far less worrisome than the lasting effects of failure to respondviolently. Participants considered failure to fight when provoked as shame-ful and believed that when a persistent adversary who might respond to per-ceived weakness with increased aggression is not bested or at least foughtto conclusion, it could lead to further trouble.

HIERARCHIES AND NATURAL ORDER

Those interviewed portrayed fighting as a natural occurrence and as ameans to establish hierarchies of physical dominance. Multiple respondentsmade reference to primitive man or the animal kingdom to show that phys-ical confrontation and dominance contests are natural. The point was thatfighting is what humans do to establish rank. Kelly said:

Defending yourself will expand and trickle through all aspects of yourlife. It can start with physical defense. To not defend yourself is equalto being defenseless. You would be equal to a sitting duck. The sameway sharks smell blood and animals smell fear. People see fear andcapitalize on it. You know big fish, little fish kind of thing.

His statement reflects a belief that the assertiveness reflected in a will-ingness to fight leads to other successes in a competitive world. Participantsseemed comfortable with the idea that physical dominance is part of thehuman condition and particularly significant in their social surroundings.According to Fred, “I think it’s part of human nature. Part of people areanimals just like any other animal. That’s how you figure out dominanceand who’s right and who’s wrong.” Thus, they considered fighting an im-portant part of establishing and challenging a pecking order and of buildinga social environment where the order of respect is known. Curiously, mostparticipants placed themselves in the middle range of fighting ability andsaid that they were not particularly tough guys. Their willingness to standup and fight was sufficient to place them in a relatively respectable positionin this order.

Although most of the men said that flaunting the ability and willingness tofight was a mark of immaturity, it was good to make a habit of being strongand at the ready for violence. This demeanor improves one’s social posi-tion, reinforces a manly image, increases confidence in diverse settings, and


wards off trouble by garnering respect. This is important to those who per-ceive their neighborhood barroom as a setting where aggressors inevitablywill try to demonstrate mettle and intimidate if they think they can.

LETTING BAD BLOOD

Most of the men we interviewed considered fighting a likely and reason-able outcome of many exchanges of insults or disputes. They believed thatlingering animosities, yelling, shoving matches, and verbal battles served nopurpose. Arguing is unproductive, but fighting can bring conflicts to reso-lution and reduce the likelihood of an uncomfortable series of interactions(see Ferguson, 2001). Jason perceived little value in debating foes and as-sumed that most arguments of any duration in public will lead to fist fights.In his words, “What’s the point of arguing back and forth for thirty min-utes or an hour? Just fight and it’s over in a few minutes.” Once disputantsestablished dominance and demonstrated courage, they could consider thematter settled. Fights also prevented prolonged conflict and animosity, andthey avoided expression of emotion that audiences will not receive well. Ofhis decision to fight, Renee said, “A friend just told me, ‘If you feel that youneed to do it, just go ahead and do it. Stop stressing out about it. You’regonna see this person, so you might as well just do it and get it over with.’”

Fighting also was perceived as cathartic. Adversaries can release thestress of tense situations with a flurry of punches. After the violence, emo-tions settle. Even on the losing side of the fight, these men accepted thatthey could resolve conflicts with violence and that it could prevent lastingconflict. Indeed, most believed that dangerous animosity was unlikely tolast beyond the incident. In their circles, fights happen, and in most cases,people get over them. In describing a particular fight, Fred said:

Nobody got seriously hurt. It was just kinda one of those things wherewe took care of what had to be taken care of. It’s kinda funny ’cause Idid end up runnin’ into the guy two days later, and he bought me somedrinks, and we kinda just talked for a minute. It’s not like we sat thereand made up, but at the same time he was like, “Man, that was stupid,”and I was like, “Yeah, that was stupid.” But at that point in time we didwhat had to be done, I guess.

To these men, fights were useful voluntary contests for settling disputesand were more likely to resolve conflicts than prolong them. Charlie ex-pressed the idea that fights should not lead to cycles of retaliation or lastinganimosity. He said, “I guess after the fight, it’s over. Just the way I grew up,if you got beat up and it’s pretty bad, there’s no reason to press charges.”Such resolutions extended even to situations when the speaker provokeda fight. As Cain said, “If you’re the person who starts it and you end up


getting your ass handed to you, you get what you deserve. You feel stupidyou know, but you know you had it comin’.”

They believed that fighting could settle some problems and onlookersshould allow them to conduct their contests without interference, especiallyfrom police. Dennis elaborated on his belief that fights allow resolution ofconflict by “working out” problems through competition:

It’s a timeless tradition. Two people duking it out goes back to dudesslappin’ people with gloves and challenging them to a duel and prob-ably way before that, cavemen and stuff. That’s what men do. Somethings can just be worked out like that.

Many participants thought that police involvement would undermine thepurpose of fighting and that witnesses should only call police under strictconditions where fights were not for settling disputes (e.g., robberies or un-fair and merciless attacks).

CONDUCT IN COMBAT

Participants claimed that honorable fighters should follow rules. Almostall said that the point of fighting was not to hurt the other person as severelyas possible. Clearly, their intent was to win and cause pain to opponents, butit was not to cause lasting injury or death. For this reason, they attempted tofollow specific rules of combat and expected others to do so. They claimedthat those who fight honorably stop when their opponent is bested, onlyfight equally matched opponents, and fight with equal numbers of combat-ants. They believed that failing to do so impugned claims of being peacefulwarriors and cast them as violent, a label they avoided.

GIVE QUARTER

Several interviewees said that they took the threat of causing severe andpermanent injury seriously and believed that it was the worst possible out-come of a fight. Avoiding tragedy was part of the reason they tried to con-duct fights fairly, put limitations on violence, and stopped once they earneda victory (Jackson-Jacobs, 2013). These offenders said that the level ofaccepted aggression was high and that fighting aggressively was fine, butthey still emphasized the importance of restraint when fighting. As Chrissaid, “I’m not tryin’ to kill nobody.” Renee said, “I mean, I wouldn’t wantto seriously kill somebody, but bones heal. You can get teeth fixed. Bloodynose ain’t gonna kill anybody.” They believed it important to stop whenone fighter clearly has bested their opponent, so that combatants land nopotentially deadly blow against the defenseless. As Charlie said, “I never


felt like I inflicted more pain than needed to be inflicted on somebody. I feltlike once I did enough damage to ’em, you know, I didn’t do any more.”

Most respondents said that once the winner of a fight was established,the honorable thing to do was desist. The signs that they should cease werewhen their adversary yielded, went to ground, became too tired to compete,or could no longer defend himself (Jackson-Jacobs, 2013). Charlie elabo-rated:

I think a fist fight in the street or in a bar . . . should be done with whensomebody can’t get up, when they can’t defend themselves anymore. Ifyou take it beyond that, where somebody needs to go to the hospitalfor head injuries or bleedin’ to death, that’s takin’ it way too far.

When asked when fighting should stop, Cain said:

One person just giving up; throwing their hands up saying they’ve hadenough. When a person just can’t defend themselves, that’s a sign thatthey’re done. What constitutes it for me, I guess, is just knowing that ifI’ve gotten into it with someone, and they stop throwing back, and theystart talking like in between, its kinda like they saying I quit.

Jason relayed two stories that supported this claim: one where he showedmercy and the other where he benefited from mercy. In the first, he dis-cussed landing the first blow that “dropped” his opponent, and then insteadof further attacks, he verbally reinforced the demand to yield and not comeback. In the second, he said he was tackled and suffered a broken shoulder.Afterward, he threw a punch but the pain from the break brought him tohis knees. He said that he was defenseless and grateful that his opponentrecognized the proper moment to stop.

EQUAL COMBATANTS

One way to determine a “fair” fight was whether the combatants werematched equally, at least by appearances (see Garot, 2010). As Kelly said,“A fair fight is when [they’re] equally matched in physical stature, strength,age. Unfair would be age, physical stature, intoxication, outnumbered.”Although any touching or attempt to intimidate by invading space duringconfrontation might set off a fight, participants claimed that they avoidedthrowing a first blow and would attempt to deescalate conflict when theiropponent had lost the chance to win. Exceptions to the dictate to avoidthe first blow were when they believed they were far outmatched and thefight was inevitable. They claimed that throwing the first blow in these situ-ations might give a “puncher’s chance” to escape unharmed. Still, severalparticipants said that there is little purpose in fighting when there is no


chance of winning, such as when a far superior fighter insults you. It isvery bad form to bully far outside one’s size and fighting ability; if per-sonal pride allows, then there is little shame in letting it go when it happens.As Chris said, “If you’re definitely gonna get your ass whipped, there’s nopoint in fightin’. You might as well just walk away.” It is possible to walkaway from a fight and avoid humiliation when unquestionably outmatched(Garot, 2010).

We asked participants when they thought it was wrong to fight. Theiranswers supported the claim that fighting easily outmatched opponents waswrong and did not convey their ideals of honor. David said you should notfight:

Somebody that’s a whole lot smaller than you, that you could easilykick their ass for no reason, you know just to make them look dumb. Iguess you would kinda feel a little guilty after that, just to fight, just forthat. So I guess I would consider that kinda wrong, an unfair match.

Eric said, “If you can already beat somebody up, it’s not necessary for youto follow through with it.” He explained that it would be acceptable to walkaway when provoked by those who clearly were not contenders for victorybecause they could not have intended insult with a clear head. If insultedparties believe that the aggressor does not comprehend the consequencesof an affront or is insincere, then they can forgive slights:

If somebody’s eggin’ you on to fight but you really know they don’twant to fight, then you feel like you could just give ’em exactly whatthey’re askin’ for. Maybe they want to fight knowing they’re gonna getbeat up, and they just want to get beat up. I’m not gonna do that tosomebody, I’ll walk away from a fight when I know it’s not worth it.Some people just aren’t worth beatin’ up or fightin’ with because I don’twant to hurt ’em and I know they really don’t want to fight in the firstplace. They’re just drunk.

Several mentioned that they can detect reluctance from the fearful, out-matched, or unintentional insulter, and in these situations, the right thingto do is to deescalate conflict. Dana indicated that adversaries attemptingto deescalate or who have done no significant wrong are among the reasonsfor deciding not to fight as a conflict begins: “[I]t’s okay to walk away from afight. Number one, if you know you can’t win. Number two, if the principleisn’t there.” When asked if he thought there are times when it is acceptableto walk away, Charlie responded:

Definitely. A lot of times you walk away when you know you couldbeat someone up or they’re drunk—too drunk. Or you just feel like


they really don’t—you can see sometimes in people’s eyes—they reallydon’t want to get in a fight with you, but they just feel like they have to.

EQUAL NUMBERS

To establish reputations and reinforce the idea that they uphold rulesof accepted behaviors, fighters argued that you should go it alone. Theyframed having friends join the fight as an ineffective way to convey reputa-tions worthy of respect. In fact, having friends join an otherwise fair fightreportedly diminished your reputation. Kevin claimed that he did not ap-prove when a friend came to his aid. As he explained, “[Being] jumped bymultiple people is not very fair. And sometimes it’s hard to stay away fromthat ’cause if you’re with a group of people, friends usually jump in, and itmay turn out to be unfair when multiple people are jumpin’ on one guy.”According to Charlie, “I think a fair fight is if it’s one-on-one. Just fists, youknow, fighting straight up. If someone has a weapon or if someone has morefriends, like if another friend jumps in, I think that’s unfair.” When asked ifhe would jump in a fight to help a friend, Kevin replied:

I usually see what is happening, try and watch the situation, and if myfriend’s handlin’ it’s okay and if nobody else on the other guy’s side isjumpin’ in, I usually watch and make sure nobody else jumps in. If he’sgetting hurt bad enough, I’ll jump in to try and help him or stop him.

EXCEPTIONS TO RULES

Although participants articulated rules of combat, they also said thatthey sometimes abandoned these rules. Several indicated that for sometransgressions—a sexual crime or other serious offense against those heldclose—the injured can cast rules aside. It may be acceptable to approachwith stealth, gang up on, blindside, or pull a weapon first when the sole ob-jective is vengeance and inflicting pain on dishonorable and egregious of-fenders who deserve it, but such events were rare among this group. Depar-tures from the code also occurred for less intentional reasons; these eventsare much more common and received considerably more attention fromparticipants. Here, we elaborate on the situations and circumstances wherethe participants did not follow the accepted rules of fighting.

LOYALTY

Loyalty to friends or the unprotected can conflict with the imperative thatfights be fair. Fighters often recognize that despite the need to let a fightproceed to culmination without interference, they should not let friends beinjured severely or humiliated. Louis said that one must assist a friend in


the fray “if they need it—if they’re getting hurt or losing.” David explainedthat he is sure to intervene in fights if a friend is outnumbered, but he saidalso that he would aid as a gesture of friendship and unwillingness to watcha compatriot suffer:

Oh yeah, you jump in to help. Why? Because I guess it’s your friendand it all depends, you know, how many friends they got with ’em. Butyeah, I’d jump in for a friend of mine just ’cause it’s your friend. Youdon’t want to see them get hurt, get beat up.

Onlookers are attentive to how a battle unfolds and whether those withwhom they side have the upper hand. If they judge that significant injury totheir side is occurring or impending, or that the situation requires a demon-stration of loyalty, then they may violate the abstract belief that peopleshould fight their own battles. They cast such violations as reluctant, how-ever. The following dialogue with Sal reflected his decision-making processfor determining when to violate the ethic of fighting fair:

Interviewer: Would you jump in even if it was a fair fight?

Sal: Well, I guess it depends. I guess you’d have to be in the situation,see what it calls for.

Interviewer: Let’s say it’s a fair fight and your friend’s winning, wouldyou jump in?

Sal: No, I wouldn’t jump in. I’d let him handle his business.

Interviewer: But if he was getting beat up?

Sal: I’d probably jump in, yeah.

Jason relied on loyalty to explain the use of a weapon in a fight wherehe normally would avoid it. He relayed a story of smashing a glass on anantagonist’s head:

This big dude was harassing a guy I knew, who was pretty small. I toldhim, “don’t worry that dude won’t do nothing.” Right after I said that,the big dude pushed my friend hard against the wall. I was like, “Fuckman, I just told him nothin’ was going to happen to him.” I had to dosomething. So I smashed my drink over the dude’s head.

The participants were not blind to conflicting imperatives that shape howthey should respond to a fight. Reportedly, it is a complicated decisiondetermining when to intervene in an ongoing fight. The decision requiresspeedily considering the entirety of the situation; a significant part of thecalculation is how much punishment one allows a friend who has lost mo-mentum in a fight to take before intervening to assist. Onlookers should


allow fights to proceed in most cases, but at some point, the beating of afriend must stop.

ALCOHOL AND DRUGS

Many fighters said that they were ashamed of the times they had pro-voked another person because of their own intoxication. When they por-trayed their fights as shameful or immature events, it was typically becausethey had provoked another needlessly and being drunk was usually the rea-son for it. Eric recalled:

I beat up some guy one night just because I was intoxicated. It hadnothing to do with him. It had somethin’ to do with his family member.It had to do with a girl, and if I wouldn’t have been in the state of mindI was in, I would’ve never done that to that person. He didn’t deservethat.

As Kevin noted, when fights occur because of drunkenness, the fightermay experience guilt. It is not the fight that inspires regret, but the realiza-tion that it occurred for “irrational” reasons:

There’s times when I definitely didn’t think it was the right thing to do,and maybe too much alcohol was involved and I had a hot head, and ifI was sober that probably wouldn’t have happened. So there’s times Ifeel guilty for doin’ it when I’m drunk or something.

The fighters noted that drugs and alcohol interfere with decision makingand have a great deal to do with why some of their fights occur. However, inseveral cases, they reconciled this with the belief that they fight in responseto insults. Alcohol-induced sensitivity and intolerance to insults probablymeans only that they might have chosen to ignore real infractions if sober.When asked what instigated his most recent fight, Rob said:

I think it [alcohol] influenced me to the point where I thought I reactedreally fast. I mean I got mad quick. It just all happened, and I just didwhatever felt like I had to do right away. My adrenaline started pump-ing faster because I was drunk. Had I been calm and had some foodin me and somewhat normal I might have tried the situation slightlydifferent. I don’t know how that would’ve ended up. I think overallbecause I had been drinkin’ so much, it was just a quick reaction andthe only way I saw fit to handle it.


QUICK JUDGMENTS AND OVERWHELMING EMOTIONS

Many fights occurred quickly. Therefore, the fighters often cast the de-cision to fight as a spur of the moment, physiological reaction rather thanthe result of deliberation. They weighed their decision to fight against a cul-tural backdrop of right and wrong behavior, but also they knew that therewas little time to measure guidance for using violence against developingconflicts. They were aware that outcomes often do not fit cultural imper-atives neatly and that sometimes they made mistakes. It usually was afterthe fight that these fighters measured their actions against the standards ofwhether it should have occurred and how it should have proceeded. Af-ter such careful examination, many experience regret. Dennis regretted thelevel of violence he used in a fight that his friend provoked:

So my friend’s all drunk at the bar, bouncin’ around screamin’, andthese dudes walk up behind him and start shit with him. He startsfightin’ one of the dudes, and then two of that guy’s friends jumpedin. I mean, like I said, my friend was in the wrong, but we all jumpedin anyway. It was a couple of us, and that’s when I made the dude’s earbleed.

Kevin reconciled his beliefs that fights should not include weapons andshould end before serious injury with contradictory behavior by referringto fights as charged situations where a person can lose control:

You kinda lose yourself in the moment and codes go out the window.There’s been times when I probably should’ve stopped before I did, orsomebody should’ve stopped something, but you kinda lose yourself.You don’t really realize what you’re doing sometimes, and it’s not reallyabout a code at that point.

Emotions often cause bystanders to jump into what were fair fights ini-tially or to escalate more than the situation demands. Jerry explained thathe regretted injuring his opponent but that this experience had taughthim that fights sometimes progress in this manner. The natural flash ofanger that is an emotional response to pain and fear when under attackmeans that he need not deeply regret exceeding his limitations for violence:

Sometimes, everybody gets their adrenaline pumpin’ and you don’tthink too rationally. So, you know, it didn’t bother me afterward.Usually that’s the way things happen. . . . I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt himat all. At first I just felt like I was tryin’ to defend myself. But once Igot him on the ground, I hit him four more times with the intent to hurthim, but also with the intent just to keep him from comin’ back at me,


and when he came back at me, I meant to hurt him that last time and Idid hurt him.

Rob said that limits on the injuries one tends to inflict and the level ofescalation allowed may be set aside instantaneously when things do notprogress as expected:

I don’t want to get in a situation where I put some dude in a coma andspend my days in jail and go through all of that. That’s definitely not thegoal. But sometimes it’s hard to go with that idea even if that’s how youfeel about it normally. You get in that situation, and somebody takesa swing at you with a baseball bat, and all of a sudden things change.I don’t know that there’s clear cut limits in my head. I hope to have alimit and never do anything too permanent.

In fact, several offenders noted that their personal response to the anger,fear, and associated biochemical arousal that occurs in a fight makes themlose touch completely with personal restrictions and ostensive rules of com-bat. Experience had taught these men that there was a risk that they wouldlose control when fighting and that the limitations on conduct when fightingwere uncertainties even for themselves. Fred said:

I kinda lose touch with myself as a human being when I fight and Ijust kinda lose my mind for a minute and whatever happens, happens.I don’t even know what happened sometimes. It’s kinda like you justturn into an animal.

Combatants said that they (and others) may lose sight of the rules of com-bat they try to follow but that they still must trust their instinct to fight whenprovoked. Participants easily cast many fights that do not follow the form offair contests, as situations that result either from purposive violations, usu-ally by the other side, or from accidental failure to follow the rules. Failureto adhere to rules, although occurring frequently, does not undermine thebelief that opponents can, should, and often do perform fights as honorablecontests.

DISCUSSION

Ethnographies that focus on singular aspects of a group’s life tend to por-tray the participants as one-dimensional. For instance, Sandberg (2009b)argued that much ethnographic work on violent street offenders highlightstheir gangster or violent sides and ignores other dimensions of their lives.Because our interviews focused on violence, our findings may lead thereader to overestimate the degree to which fighting was a part of their lives.


Readers can garner the complexity of participants at times from the quoteswe present, but many participants made efforts to construct themselves asnot being truly violent in other parts of the interviews that are not includedin this article. They engage in violence, endorse some forms of violence, andarticulate a code governing such behavior, but other dimensions of theirlives having little to do with crime take precedence in defining how theyperceive themselves. Fighting is but one aspect of their complicated livesand identities.

Our aims with this research were to explore the content and implemen-tation of codes for fighting among a group of adult, working-class, Whitemales and to determine how they talk about such codes in relation to con-structing identities. In describing the content of their code for violence, par-ticipants said fighting was a means of constructing an identity as someonedeserving respect, but only when conducted acceptably. They emphasizedhow defending honor, seeking quick conflict resolution, and establishing ad-mirable qualities motivated them to fight. They were proud of their willing-ness and ability to oppose adversaries with violence when protecting hon-orable positions or defending character. They thought people should notseek out violence, but they should not back down from it either. They sawvalue in fighting to defend honor and to establish order. Defending them-selves under the right circumstances enhanced self-respect and confidencethat they were men of character and good repute. Failure to fight in appro-priate circumstances led to self-doubt and regret.

They believed that fighting served functions beyond building a reputa-tion, however. To them, fighting bolstered a confident demeanor, gave ad-vantage in daily nonviolent interactions, and warded off future disrespect-ful interactions. They portrayed fighting as a reasonable means for disputeresolution because it ended verbal confrontation, brought conflicts to con-clusion, and brought grudges out in the open. Completed fights settled dis-putes that if left untendered could fester and lead to nastier consequences,including shame associated with feeling cowed, gossip and other harmfultalk, or sneaky vengeance. For these reasons and because fighting was anintimidating event, many believed it was the better strategy and found itpsychologically easier to charge ahead and be done than to wait or act inhesitation.

They perceived fighting as an indicator of their character, but it was mosteffective for building a desired reputation when conducted following rules.They frowned on unfair contests, believing that fights should not result frominadvertent insults or when one’s opponent is attempting to deescalate,apologize, or back down. Combatants should grant quarter and avoid per-manent damage to opponents. Participants considered ruthless or extremeescalation of violence in what should be an ordinary fight as unacceptable(Jackson-Jacobs, 2013). Their fights were intended to inflict punishment but


not to cause long-term damage. In short, they articulated and sought to ad-here to a code that was restrictive in allowances of when to fight and for theacceptable amount of force. None portrayed themselves as innately violentor as generally criminal.

In describing this code for violence, participants referred to the necessityof general and specific deterrence of aggressors and to fighting as a formof self-protection. However, their explanations of it had much more to dowith conducting oneself honorably and with maintaining respectable status,reputation, and character than it did with preventing impending physicalinjury or the desire to keep order. They did not portray their fights as beingnecessary for survival in their environments. In most instances, they wereseeking to defend status and pride more than their bodies. They were proudof fighting for reputation and imbued willingness to defend their characterin a physical way with great meaning. Although they described serious repu-tational stakes for responding properly when insult to honor was clear, theyalso believed that escalating petty disagreements and maintaining grudgescall honor into question.

They believed that some confrontational situations require violence butnot all. There were allowances in the code for tolerating insults (Garot,2010). For instance, violence was not necessary when the opponent is weakphysically or the insult slight, and participants said people understood ifone tolerates insult from a clearly superior fighter. Conversely, an adeptfighter who decided to let an affront pass from a foolish or drunken chal-lenger likely gained respect for mercy. Scrutinizers will not always deemwalking away from provocations or intimidating encounters as an exhibi-tion of weakness and, therefore, doing so brings neither increased threatnor future challenges. Perhaps calls for violence in response to threats andinsults acquired significance in part because these men believed that insultsthat demand a fight fall within a narrow range.

Despite the vagaries of when and how they draw on the code, willingnessto fight is a foundation on which participants construct both accounts ofabidance and departures from their code for settling disputes violently butwith honor. A general willingness to fight is a primary component of judgingaction and is foundational for claiming the code and the image these menwant to convey. They often try to establish that they generally are willing tofight when describing both conflicts they avoided and those that eventuatedin fights. Although seeking fights regularly and proactively is a mark againstcharacter, clear demonstrations of cowardice in a confrontation where ob-servers would judge violence justifiable is difficult to excuse.

These men articulated a clear code for violence, but our results alsosuggest that their application of it is improvisational and spontaneous. Acode may fit situations imperfectly, and because it contains few immutablerules, actors may take liberties in application. Often, codes provide only the


loosest guidance for navigating a series of provisional interactions. One canfight when insulted, but actors have a great deal of freedom in decidingprecisely when an insult rises to the level that demands escalation. Oncea conflict is underway, violence heightens emotions, and fighters can losetrack of acceptable motives and rules. Fights are precarious, uncertain, andemotional interactions that “get out of control,” escalate beyond what wasintended, and sometimes elicit unplanned action. An imperfect fit betweenideals for applying the code, and their own experiences with errant applica-tion to situations, does not disrupt claims to adhere to the code. The codeof honorable fighting is important and valued, but they know that given thecomplexities of conflicts, they are likely to apply it imperfectly.

Many who have examined subcultural codes recognize that they are notfollowed precisely or certainly (Garot, 2010; Topalli, 2005), and our partic-ipants knew this as well. Nevertheless, the guilt expressed by participantswhen acting in discord with the code and the effort they put into makingsense of action according to codes evidences its importance. They discussedfights that occurred for the right reasons and that followed the acceptablerules with pride. They expressed guilt and regret when they provoked fightsor when they used violence beyond what was seen as honorable. When theyengaged in unfair fighting methods, they offered excuses and justificationsfor why their actions were not acceptable in general but were in this situa-tion. The participants’ need to excuse inconsistent behavior suggests com-mitment to a code in the same way that those committed to conventionalvalues excuse and justify their norm-violating behavior or that persistentstreet offenders excuse behaviors such as snitching (Rosenfeld, Jacobs, andWright, 2003; Topalli, 2005).

In addition to detailing the contours of this code for violence, we also be-lieve that our findings speak to larger issues pertaining to why it departsfrom those codes discussed elsewhere. Previous discussions of codes forviolence have located their origins in the historical inaccessibility or un-responsiveness of agents of the law (Anderson, 1999; Nisbett and Cohen,1996). If the genesis of participants’ belief in pragmatic violence was in theseconditions, then they recognized that today legal protection is available tomembers of their class. In fact, they condoned the use of the formal lawfor infractions deemed more criminal than their own, such as burglary orrobbery.

These men do not need to be on a constant campaign for respect orto establish reputations as extremely dangerous persons to protect them-selves from victimization. In fact, they hold little regard or respect for thosewho portray themselves as violent or potentially homicidal. They considerpersons who flaunt violent potential as immature or as criminals. Partic-ipants here had some access to conventional, formal dispute resolutionsand perceived themselves as conventional citizens and as average working


men. Excessive violence or fighting in ways that fundamentally violate theirrestrictive code for violence threatened this conventional, nonviolent iden-tity. An identity or reputation that is overly aggressive, quick to fight, andbrutal may ward off future insults, but also it may damage social relations.Such reputations, especially if they come with arrests and incarceration,threaten the conventional lives, identities, and outcomes they seek. Brokenjaws and teeth may lead to local acclaim for these offenders, and even vic-tims may not consider them significantly consequential, but stabbing, shoot-ing, or severely injuring victims could destroy what these men have. If codeslie on a continuum, then we would expect those with more to lose to per-ceive violence as acceptable in fewer situations and to exhibit greater re-straint, and more marginalized persons with fewer prospects to be quickerto violence and relatively comfortable with dangerous reputations.

The participants in this study presented a code for violence temperedby restraints on acceptable motives and methods. Undoubtedly, the codeof violence held by these men shaped how they perceived themselves andhow they handled interpersonal conflict. Notions of strength, capability, tra-dition, and honor, which are one aspect of a broader shared identity forthese working men, undergird this code. Their identity rests on an ethic ofbeing generally law abiding but rugged and, within bounds, dangerous insome circumstances. Their form of a code for violence might be linked totheir region historically, and their views probably are grounded in struc-tural positions tied directly to the blue-collar labor market rather than tothe streets, but shared beliefs and ways of understanding violence reinforceand define how they want to be perceived in daily contexts and social life.Their conduct in leisurely settings and enactment of these beliefs reinforcedtheir identity and securely positioned their place locally and among friends.Their code compelled them to action, had a strong influence on how theyinterpreted situations, and shaped how they made decisions to engage inviolence.

Our findings also suggest that codes are accounts or vocabularies of mo-tive fighters used to explain, rationalize, or make sense of their behaviors(Jimerson and Oware, 2006). When their behaviors were inconsistent withtheir code, the fighters reframed their actions as exceptions or mistakes. Byverbally aligning their behavior with behavioral expectations by explana-tions, they show that they remain worthy of respect (Stokes and Hewitt,1976). In conversation and action, they used codes directly and as a sensi-tizing device to grasp or explain situations. In deeds and words, they looselyimprovised and played on codes as they decided either what to do in con-flicts or how to explain their choices.

Codes are not only attitudes that predict action, but also they act assense-making devices. They affect the way people interpret and respond tosituations and are “acculturated linguistic devices that . . . actors use to


present a consistent image of self when asked to explain behavior” (Brook-man, Copes, and Hochstetler, 2011: 403). Considering codes this way high-lights that people use codes to evaluate actions prospectively and retrospec-tively. Whether done prospectively or retrospectively, this takes interpre-tive or creative effort on the part of the implementer. In short, when actorsare “telling the code,” they draw on culturally relevant normative expec-tations, attitudes, and conceptions (i.e., formula stories) to justify their be-havior and to construct meaningful identities (Wieder, 1974). Therefore,we do not perceive codes simply as unidirectional determinants of action.Rather, culturally prevalent codes of behavior shape thoughts, decisions,and actions.

Analyses of the codes that pertain to violence often contrast subculturalcodes, which analysts cast as those that condone or allow violence, withthose of the dominant culture, which they presume to proscribe violence.Our interviews imply that codes that are conducive to crime in some wayscan be prohibitive in others. In some circumstances, a code for violencedissuades violent responses and limits the insults that lead to them. There-fore, a code may be useful to people who live within the law in generaland think about the future; our participants defend it thus. Undoubtedly,few persons endorse codes for violence that condone ruthlessness, bru-tality, killing, and long-running cycles of escalating retaliation. Certainly,more individuals, like our participants, believe measured violence is appro-priate when faced with certain insults and in a narrowly defined range ofcontexts. Restrictive codes for the use of violence may be enthusiasticallyperpetuated not only by the down-and-out but also by those rungs aboveon the class structure—say men who are solidly working class or pursuingcollege educations. Allowances for violence contained in these codes cancontribute to violence, or help rationalize it, in situations clearly defined asappropriate and even in situations where misapplication occurs. Fightersoften feel no regret when the former applies, as a code provides neat ratio-nale, but in other cases, they may rest on good intentions, understandablemistakes, and circumstantial complexities. Flexibility in the implementationof codes and as a device for framing diverse violent events surely is one rea-son that codes for violence endure in so many contexts. For those avoidingcallous or criminal reputations, the code may be durable and defensible notfor its allowance but because of the restrictions it contains.

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Heith Copes is an associate professor in the Department of Justice Sci-ences at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. His primary interestis in understanding the decision-making process and identity constructionof offenders. His most recent book, with Lynne M. Vieraitis, is IdentityThieves: Motives and Methods (Northeastern University Press, 2012).

Andy Hochstetler is a professor of sociology and criminal justice at IowaState University. Most of his research is on offender decision making andself-concept. Currently, he is examining the effect of treatment on recidi-vism in a statewide population of paroled offenders controlling for selec-tion effects, background, work history, residential setting, and geographicproximity to community corrections services.

Craig J. Forsyth is a professor of sociology and criminal justice at theUniversity of Louisiana at Lafayette. He received his PhD from LouisianaState University in 1983, and both his MA and BA from the University ofNew Orleans. He is the author of more than 200 journal articles, books, andbook chapters. His principal research interests are in the areas of deviance,crime, and delinquency.

Peaceful warriors: Codes for violence among adult male bar fighters

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