Some Hypotheses on Crime and Poverty

This is just a brief conceptual piece and not fundamentally concerned with empirical claims. It addresses crime and incarceration.

One basic empirical starting point: in the US prisoners are disproportionately low-income and low education. So what are some possible reasons for why our prisons are mostly full of the worst off? There are at least three reasons why those with lower socio-economic status (SES) might be more likely to end up in jail. We can think of them as working hypotheses.

1. Lower SES Americans do commit some types of crime at higher rates. For instance, many crimes in America are property crimes. It would not be surprising if the poor commit more property crimes due to entrenched poverty and a lack of alternative options. This is also a plausible hypothesis for homicide. Homicide rates tend to be highest in urban areas with entrenched poverty, collapsed social institutions, and a lack of job prospects. In so far as this is the case, the poor are disproportionately present in jail because they commit some crimes at a higher rate. But this hardly suggests that they do so out of some free “choice” to be criminal—they do so in the face of narrowly circumscribed life opportunities, none of which promise a secure and comfortable middle-class life.
2. Enforcement is primarily targeted at the poor. Breaking and entering as well as other forms of material theft are enforced with vigor, whereas white collar property crimes are not. For instance, as a recent piece noted (still trying to place it), if a home or business is broken into, the owner calls the police. If a worker experiences wage theft, who do they call? You can’t call the police and have them arrest the manager of the McDonald’s franchise where you work, let alone the McDonald’s CEO or its Board of Directors who together might be said to incentivize such behavior. But why not? There is no inherent rule that says enforcement has to be this way.  Similarly, drug laws appear to be enforced largely in poor areas, particularly in the inner city. On the other hand, in wealthy areas, from the Los Angeles suburbs to the offices and condos of Manhattan, drug laws are virtually non-existent. Again, this is not preordained by nature. It is a consequence of a country that is run by the wealthy. This leads to the third reason.
3. In some cases, at least, the laws criminalize the behavior of the poor. It is not only the case that the enforcement of white collar crimes is lax, though this is true. The penalties for such crimes are themselves small or non-existent. The forms of tax evasion that wealthy individuals and corporations engage in are often legal, not by nature but by design. The tax laws are written by and in response to such constituencies. And when their behavior is criminalized the penalties are minor, often ranging from fines to months-long prison sentences. Compare this to the often decades spent in prison for those who rob a bank or convenience store. The in-person theft of the poor is criminalized far more harshly than the out-of-sight, largely online theft of the rich. On another note, in many American cities it is effectively illegal to be homeless. If one cannot secure a shelter bed for the night, they risk being chased out of parks, parking lots, alleys, tent camps, and anywhere else a person seeking shelter might settle down for the night. Satirizing this injustice, Anatole France famously said that “the law, in its majestic equality, forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal their bread.”

None of this is necessary. A key goal for a more democratic and egalitarian polity would be precisely to eliminate these disparities.

Star Wars: Originals, Prequels, and Sequels

In a time of growing authoritarianism we need a reappraisal of the Star Wars prequels. And on a lighter note, it is always fun to talk about Star Wars.

The original Star Wars trilogy tells a coherent story. The prequel trilogy, in terms of plot and themes, adds to this story, something for which it does not receive enough credit, particularly in the context of contemporary politics, since it concerns the transformation of a democratic republic into an authoritarian empire. The sequel trilogy, I will argue, fails to contribute to the original story or tell its own story.

Star Wars, in terms of the original trilogy, the sequels, the prequels, and the general universe, is an epic space fantasy. But its basic story can arguably be boiled down to two simple components, one personal and one political: the father-son relationship between Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker, on the one hand, and, on the other, the rebellion against the Galactic Empire.

In other words, the two most fundamental components of Star Wars are the political battle against tyranny, as the rebels attempt to overturn the Galactic Empire and restore the Republic, and the personal Skywalker drama, specifically the father-son dynamic as Luke attempts to convert his father back to the light side of the force.

By the end of Return of the Jedi, the two fundamental components of the story are resolved. The political and the personal dramas have both come to an end. The Empire is defeated and the Republic restored. Just as importantly for the story, Darth Vader returned to the light side of the force and killed the Emperor, saving his son Luke in the process. Furthermore, when Vader kills the Emperor and abandons the dark side of the force, the Sith are effectively destroyed.

The new movies, episodes 7-9 (The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, and The Rise of Skywalker), add nothing to this. They are fundamentally apolitical, though internet right-wingers deride their “agenda” because they include many women and people of color in the cast.

Episodes 7-9 do not explain or contribute to the political story that develops and is resolved in episodes 1-6. They don’t explain how the Galactic Empire effectively returned, now rebranded as the New Order, or what happened to the Republic. Wasn’t the Empire destroyed at the end of Return of the Jedi? Wasn’t the Republic restored? Why are those fighting for the Republic called “the resistance”? Aren’t they the government? How did a massive fascist state, the New Order, arise and come to take power with only token resistance from the previously victorious opponents of fascism? What were Han, Leia, Luke, Chewie, Lando, and all our other beloved heroes doing in between episodes 6 and 7? For any adult these are pretty glaring omissions, all the more so because of the explicitly political component of both the original trilogy and the prequel trilogy.

Alas, the new films also fail to add anything of value to the personal drama of the first six films.  Darth Vader is dead while Luke is virtually non-existent in two of the three films, and his depiction is mediocre in the other. Meanwhile the films resurrect an Emperor-like figure in Supreme Leader Snoke and then in one of the lamest examples of Hollywood writing in decades, literally resurrect the Emperor himself in episode 9.

Even episode 8, The Last Jedi, directed by Rian Johnson and celebrated by critics, is derivative and uninteresting. The final battle is a ripoff of the Hoth battle from The Empire Strikes Back but without the tactile, in-the-cockpit feel of Irvin Kershner’s masterpiece. Luke’s training of Rey is a sad, borderline parodic ripoff of Yoda’s training of Luke on Dagobah, complete with a Luke in the cave ripoff but with far less power or insight. The widely discussed confrontation with Snoke is visually cool but completely derivative of the Luke-Vader-Emperor confrontation in Return of the Jedi. A Luke figure (Rey) is brought by a Vader figure (Kylo Ren) to an Emperor figure (Snoke). The Emperor figure (Snoke) then taunts and tortures the Luke figure (Rey) before being surprised and killed by the Vader figure (Kylo Ren). So original! It is, however, superior to the embarrassing episode 9, which the less said about the better.

On the other hand, the prequel films, for all their flaws (and there are many), actually tell a story worth telling. They tell the story of how the Republic weakened and was finally taken over and transformed by Palpatine into the brutal Galactic Empire. They tell the story of the defeat of the Jedi and the exile of the two surviving Jedi (Obi wan and Yoda). They also give us more insight into the Skywalker family drama as we witness Anakin Skywalker grow up, from a slave boy into a Jedi, and then turn to the dark side, becoming Darth Vader. We also see him marry Padmé, gain insight into the nature of their relationship, and witness the birth of Luke and Leia, accompanied by Padmé’s death.

The political dimension in the prequels is also fascinating—watch Palpatine’s moves as he goes from Senator to Supreme Chancellor to Emperor. Does he try to overthrow the Republic from outside? Of course not. The Republic, for all its flaws, is too powerful. Rather, he foments a civil war and consolidates his power as Chancellor of the Republic, concentrating it more and more, while also generating a base of support in the Senate, such that in time he can simply proclaim himself Emperor and turn the Republic into the Empire. We watch the Republic weaken, crumble, and ultimately get taken over from within. It is sad, powerful, and for a space fantasy, surprisingly real.

And yet the prequel films have faced considerable criticism, from professionals and fans, in the roughly two decades since their release. It should come as no surprise, then, that the only lesson Disney learned from the prequels was that original stories, especially concerning politics, are boring. So, their rules for the new films, episodes 7-9, appeared to be as follows: Explain nothing. Don’t try anything new or risky. Have no politics (other than a diverse cast, which offended racist fanboys online). Use the old characters for nostalgia and make all the new characters archetypes of the old—Rey (Luke), Poe (Han), Kylo (Vader), Snoke (Emperor Palpatine). Don’t have a death star, have a death planet! Don’t mess with the tried and true formula of rebels fighting the empire, only now they are the “resistance” fighting the “new order.”

The prequels have problems. The writing is often mediocre, the acting often is as well (though some of the actors are great), the prequel films all rely too heavily on cgi, Jar Jar was a mistake, the Trade Federation leaders have strong and offensive east-asian style accents. One could go on. But the prequel films also serve a purpose. To add to and enrich the story of the original trilogy. They are actually brave, in that George Lucas did not just feed people the same old crap. Unlike the new films, which just give us three more rebels-versus-empire films (the Resistance versus the New Order), the prequels told a different story. How the Jedi were defeated by the Sith, how the Republic was turned into the authoritarian and murderous Galactic Empire, and how Anakin skywaker became Darth Vader. That was a story worth telling, even imperfectly. And it matters today.

The new films, on the other hand, have no story to tell and thus it matters little how effectively executed it is (A Force Awakens) or isn’t (The Rise of Skywalker). Disney’s hunger for market share and profits, combined with fans’ hunger for infinite content, virtually ensures that there will be new Star Wars films and television shows in perpetuity. But let’s not pretend that these are all of a piece. Something very special happened between 1977 and 1983, when the original trilogy was released. And something flawed but brave and worthwhile happened when the (surprisingly original) prequel trilogy was released between 1999 and 2005. Nothing similar has happened since. Perhaps this is because George Lucas, who created the story, characters, and themes, was last directly involved in 2005’s The Revenge of the Sith, the final prequel film. To be a little melodramatic, that was the last time Star Wars was a genuine story and not simply corporate intellectual property.