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The work of David Matza

My purpose in writing a book of this sort is that the pictures of delinquency that thus far have been drawn do not remind me and many others of the real things which they purport to explain. It is not that they distort reality, for all pictures do that, but that rather, in distorting reality, current pictures seem to lose what is essential in the character of the deviant enterprise (Matza, 1964, p. 2).

Each digression was allegedly justified by my implicit claim that the process of becoming deviant made little human sense without understanding the philosophical inner life of the subject as he bestows meaning upon the events and materials that beset him (Matza, 1969a, p. 176).

The major theme in Matza’s work (around which several variations are developed) is naturalism: the constant attempt to remain true to the phenomenon one is studying. His objection to other theories of deviance is that they distort the essence of deviant reality—that in the process of explaining deviancy they provide accounts of deviance that just do not tally with what the deviants themselves would recognize or give as motivational accounts for their own actions. In one important sense, then, Matza’s work is an attempt to re-address and redirect criminologists and sociologists to the central question of the relationship between beliefs and action. He correctly argues that, ‘Delinquency is fundamentally the translation of beliefs to action. There are many variants of this formulation and there are many disputes. But the disputes centre on the process by which delinquents come to have such peculiar commitments’ (1964, p. 19).

Matza’s resolution of the relationship between beliefs and actions is at once both theoretical and methodological: his methodological prescription (like that of the ethnomethodologists whom we shall examine later in this chapter) is deceptively simple: ‘Tell it like it is’. Matza’s theoretical pronouncements ultimately tie in well with this slogan, for he suggests that if we ‘tell it like it is’ consistently, we will discover that there is no antagonistic disjunction between deviant or subterranean values and the values of larger society. Rather deviant values are held to only intermittently and are an extension of pre- existing societal beliefs, attitudes and predispositions. Thus Matza’s latest book, Becoming Deviant, shares a concern with other American phenomenologists (the ethnomethodologists in particular) to show how beliefs and actions are related in the mind of social actors via the process of constructing meaning. In describing the ‘philosophical inner life of the subject as he bestows meaning upon events’, Matza recommends to his readers what he terms the naturalistic perspective. This is the attempt to give an accurate and truthful description of phenomena in their own right rather than to describe or explain them in order to correct, reform or eradicate them (the correctional

perspective).

It is at this very general level that we shall discover our disagreements with Matza—for, whilst we see the importance and necessity of a social theory of deviancy which ‘strives to remain true to the phenomena under study’ (Matza, 1969a, p. 5), we do not agree with his theoretical explanation of how these phenomena are constituted or created. For instance, Matza’s work is importantly concerned to attack rigid or hard deterministic views of deviant action, to abolish notions of the pathology of deviant phenomena and to stress its similarity with any other piece of action by insisting that deviants exhibit choice. So Matza offers us a view of deviants which is indeed a considerable advance upon the social reaction theorists who frequently hold to a one-sided determinism. But in attempting (correctly) to rid us of any commitment to any correctional view of deviancy, Matza himself often slips into an avoidance of larger etiological questions. Yet it is precisely these questions which have led us into a radical approach to criminology. As one otherwise highly favourable reviewer wrote of Matza’s last book (L.Taylor, 1970, p. 6): ‘The disagreement between philosophers is not about how faithful they should be to the nature of the phenomenon but about what exactly is the real nature of the phenomenon.’ Unless we are careful, therefore, the naturalistic perspective can lead (as it does with many ethnomethodologists) into a position where the only true account of how the deviant phenomena come into being, and what its real nature is, can be given by the deviants themselves. This position is paradoxically (and Matza thrives on paradoxes) both true and

untrue. It is clearly true that what deviants believe must be the motor force behind their actions, since beliefs and action are not separate phenomena. But it is also the case that what they believe may be false, even when it is regarded by them as true. There will obviously be important etiological differences in our accounts of those deviants whose action we believe is informed by false beliefs and those deviants whose beliefs we believe to be true. But the overall danger here is to deny the theorist any right to question the validity of the deviant beliefs in his assessment of the actor’s social situation. A white-collar worker who joins a fascist organization may believe that his financial predicament is a function of the Jewish control of the economy. He has a set of beliefs about the causes of his social situation and also a set of directives as to how to ameliorate it. Although, by definition, we must take into consideration these beliefs in our account of his behaviour, we may be able to show that his causal assessment of the problem and the means of solving it are both palpably false. We may be able to show that his explanation of his position and its resolution are the products of the dissemination of false beliefs about the underlying social structure. Concepts are used as much to mystify as to clarify social reality. False beliefs may motivate men but their causal and predictive efficacy must be challenged by the social theorist.

Matza sometimes over-extends his humanistic antagonism to the correctional perspective and suggests that to appreciate the deviant enterprise is to deny oneself the right to disagree or to condemn. Thus we can understand or condemn deviants, but are not able to do both. He goes so far as to suggest that (1969a, p. 15): ‘The goal of ridding ourselves of the deviant phenomenon, however Utopian, stands in sharp contrast to an appreciative perspective and may be referred to as correctional.’ But this juxtaposition is false, for it blurs the distinction between individual and society, and like much subjective phenomenology slips into false dichotomies. For instance, we may wish to rid society of thieving by abolishing the precondition for theft—namely private property. It is perfectly possible to wish to be rid of a certain deviant phenomenon whilst appreciating and grasping its significance within present society. Indeed Matza’s own work on the disreputable poor does exactly this (1967; 1971a). Whilst wishing for poverty to be abolished in a process which would give ‘all power to the people’, he gives an illuminating description of how the ‘disreputable poor’ are demoralized, and how that demoralization helps to sustain their deviant position. In short, there is a difference between wanting the correction of individuals, and wanting the correction of beliefs which are false (i.e. demoralization) and which sustain an unequal repressive and criminal-producing society. One can attack the correctional component as an ideology whilst avoiding the kind of

subjective relativism which treats both true and false beliefs as having the same causal efficacy in the creation of deviancy. A considerable amount of deviant action is falsely-conscious in the sense that it is not fully conscious of its own constitution. The false view of society encouraged and propagated by the powerful is one of the constitutive features in the causal chain which encourages acceptance of a set of constraints which are not in fact necessarily eternal or unchangeable. Thus, the ‘disreputable poor’ are demoralized and their false consciousness helps to sustain a fundamentally inequitable system. Our argument is, then, that Matza’s final inability to link his illuminating sociology of motivation with its larger structural determinates often leads him to lapse into the kind of subjectivism for which we shall later criticize the ethnomethodologists. In fact, Matza’s work is ultimately saved from this unambiguous fate by his sensitive (if rather covert) recognition of these problems. He is not unaware of the possibility of the kind of critique offered here and in a recent interview had this to say of his own work: ‘I decided that though Delinquency and Drift and

Becoming Deviant were defensible, each missed a key point the

relation between property and the state…’ (Weis, interview, 1971 p. 42); and he went on to add that

Actually, my first book was a critique of the juvenile courts mainly, at least that’s the way I intended it. My second book, especially in the final part, is a critique of the state. So I think they partially coopted me but not completely, because I looked at the criminal, which is what you’re saying they wanted me to do, but I looked at him in a way that I don’t think they especially wanted me to do.

Let us return now to Matza’s examination of the deviant and the criminal. The picture he gives us involves a subtle grasp of the dialectics of deviant motivation that goes a long way to obliterating many of the obstacles which stand in the way of a fully social theory of deviance.

Subterranean values, neutralization and drift

Matza’s earlier work is largely taken up with explicit rejection and criticism of subcultural theory. Writing with Gresham Sykes he rejected the standard sociological descriptions of delinquent subcultures on the grounds that they characterized delinquents as holding to a system of values which were ‘an inversion of the values held by respectable society’ (Sykes and Matza, 1957). Sykes and Matza insisted that these descriptions represented an over-antagonistic view of the relationship

between delinquent values and those of larger society. They pointed out that if delinquents really held values which were antagonistic they would tend to view their illegal behaviour as morally correct. Because of such a commitment they would exhibit no sense of guilt or shame when detected, apprehended or confined. In reality, Matza argued, delinquents in such situations are often ashamed and guilty. Moreover, he asserts, it would be incorrect to see such expressions merely as a cynical attempt to win appeasement with those in authority. In reality, delinquents do seem to be committed to values which are ultimately linked to those of the wider society. Their deviancy is like much conformity to moral standards—a flexible affair. Sykes and Matza thus suggest that the adolescent is not involved in a rejection of conventional morality—rather the adolescent neutralizes the normative bind of society’s legal order by ‘extending’ the justifications for deviance which are often implicit in either social values or legal pleas of innocence. ‘Techniques of neutralization’ are similar to C.Wright Mills’s ‘vocabularies of motives’ (1943). They are phrases or linguistic utterances used by the deviant to justify his action. Their importance lies in the fact that they are not merely ex post facto excuses or rationalizations invented for the authorities’ ears, but rather phrases which actually facilitate or motivate the commission of deviant actions by neutralizing a pre-existing normative constraint. Thus, a well-known neutralization for stealing from a company or corporation is that ‘nobody suffers’ or ‘the insurance will pay’ (cf. L.Taylor, 1972). The importance of this argument is that it is possible to conceive of deviants who are both motivated by special circumstances to commit crime but who would nevertheless agree (if asked) that they are doing ‘wrong’. Their morality is not so much one which is opposed to that of larger society but is nevertheless one which definitely weakens the moral bind of that society. This leads Sykes and Matza (1957, p. 668) to suggest that:

in this sense the delinquent both has his cake and eats it too, for he remains committed to the dominant normative system and yet so qualifies its imperatives that violations are ‘acceptable’ if not ‘right’. Thus the delinquent represents not a radical opposition to law abiding society but something more like an apologetic failure, often more sinned against than sinning in his own eyes. We call these justifications of deviance behaviour techniques of neutralization; and we believe these techniques make up a crucial component of Sutherland’s ‘definitions favourable to the violation of law’. It is by learning these techniques that the juveniles become delinquent, rather than by learning moral imperatives, values or attitudes standing in direct contradiction to those of the dominant society.

They list five major types of techniques of neutralization:

(1) denial of responsibility, e.g. ‘I’m sick!’; (2) denial of injury, e.g. ‘they can afford it’; (3) denial of victim, e.g. ‘we weren’t hurting anyone’, or even, ‘they had it coming to them’ (cf. the discussion of blackmailers in Hepworth, 1971); (4) condemnation of the condemners, e.g. ‘everybody is crooked’, or ‘everybody uses some form of drugs’; (5) appeal to higher loyalties, ‘I didn’t do it for myself’ or ‘I couldn’t leave my mates’. The importance of Sykes and Matza’s early statement is not that it claims to be correct or exhaustive (there may be six or seven types of techniques, and as they admit, some delinquents may be so isolated from the world of conformity that they have no need of such techniques.) Rather, it is important for its illumination of the way in which the effectiveness of social control can be lessened by ‘neutralization’—and the previously unexamined possibility that this availability of ‘techniques for neutralizing’ the moral bind may lie behind a large amount of deviant behaviour.

The stress on the similarity of delinquent values and those of larger society later led Sykes and Matza to replace the notion of a delinquent

subculture with the idea of a subculture of delinquency which exists in

a subterranean fashion in normal society. In an article entitled ‘Juvenile delinquency and subterranean values’ (1961), they criticize those subcultural theories which place a great stress on the differences between delinquent and non-delinquent values. They suggest that this faulty picture is bound up with an erroneous view of the middle-class value system. If we look closely at this value system, they argue, we will find that a ‘number of supposedly delinquent values are closely akin to those embodied in the leisure activities of the dominant society’ (p. 712).

They go on to say that, whilst their techniques of neutralization theory could explain evasion or weakening of social control, it could not really account for the initial attractiveness of deviance. They begin by suggesting that the leisure activities of those who dominate society are not so different, in value terms, from the pursuits of the delinquents at the bottom end of the same society. They quote Thorstein Veblen’s sardonic illustration of the dominant leisure class with its concept of ‘machismo’, its thirst for daring and adventure, the taste for conspicuous consumption. The assertion is that in ‘our haste to create a standard from which deviance can be measured, we have reduced the value system of the whole society to that of the middle class. We have ignored both the fact that society is not composed exclusively of the middle class and that the middle class is far from homogenous’ (ibid., p. 715). Further, society is not only split normatively into strata: contradictions occur within the dominant values. For coexisting alongside the overt or official values of society are a series of

excitement: for new ‘kicks’. Society, they argue, tends to provide institutionalized periods in which these subterranean values are allowed to emerge and to take precedence. Thus they write (p. 716): ‘the search for adventure, excitement and thrill is a subterranean value that…often exists side by side with the values of security, routinization and the rest. It is not a deviant value, in any full sense, but must be held in abeyance until the proper moment and circumstances for its expression arrive.’ The delinquent, far from deviating, conforms to these commonly held values yet accentuates them and is no respecter of the ‘proper moment and circumstances’. Sykes and Matza summarize their position by arguing (p. 717):

that the delinquent may not stand as an alien in the body of society but may represent instead a disturbing reflection or caricature. His vocabulary is different, to be sure, but kicks, big time spending and rep have immediate counterparts in the value system of the law abiding. The delinquent has picked up and emphasized one part of the subterranean values that coexist with other, publicly proclaimed values possessing a more respectable air.

So the motivation informing delinquent action derives from an accentuation of dominant values—coupled with the techniques of neutralization which release the individual from the vectors of social control. At no point is the motivational thrust abnormal: indeed it derives directly from conventional morality.

This insistence on the similarity of larger societal values and the values embodied in ‘delinquent ideology’ lies at the basis of all of Matza’s work. The assertion is that deviant beliefs have to be seen as arising out of the beliefs of the wider society as well as in opposition to them. There is, in this sense, a dialectic at play which goes unrecognized in more static versions of subcultural theory.

In an article entitled ‘Subterranean traditions of youth’, Matza (1961) applied this dialectic to that section of American society thought to be potentially most oppositional in values: youth. He argued that young people in America had been subjected to three major deviant patterns: delinquency, radicalism and bohemianism. The central theme in this essay is that whilst it is possible to trace differences in the vulnerability of youth to modes of rebelliousness (in terms of these three patterns)1 _{it is also the case that most youth are fairly} conventional. Matza explains the relationship between conventional and subterranean traditions as one of modification (1961, p. 105): ‘The notion of subterranean implies that there is an ongoing dialectic between conventional and deviant traditions and that, in the process of exchange, both are modified.’

At the back of this argument, there seems to lie a crude model of consensus, conflict and integration. The attack on subcultural theory, interesting for other reasons, stops short of the crucial question: are the value differences between delinquents and non-delinquents (because of ‘extension’) ever so great as to prevent integration with more conventional traditions? For Matza, delinquents neutralize the moral code of society. But it is just as possible to argue that the accounts offered out by delinquents (and not just by bohemian and/or radical