Over the past year, the hip-hop community has come under intense
scrutiny and criticism for the wildly popular “Stop Snitching”
campaign. The movement, which has been accompanied by a flurry of t-
shirts, songs, websites, and DVDs, is ideologically grounded in the
belief that people should not cooperate with law enforcement
authorities under any circumstances. In addition, Lil Kim’s 2005
conviction and one year prison sentence for obstruction of justice,
Cam’ron’s refusal to help police find the person who shot him during
an attempted robbery in October 2005, Busta Rhymes’ and Tony Yayo’s
refusal to speak to police about the February 2006 murder of Rhymes’
bodyguard Israel Ramirez at a video shoot, and the now infamous “Stop
Snitching” DVD featuring NBA star Carmelo Anthony, have all increased
the recent amount of public attention paid to the centuries-old
politics of snitching. In response to the “Stop Snitching” campaign,
community organizations, politicians, and law enforcement agencies
have mounted a full-fledged counter-movement, informally titled
“Start Snitching”, designed to encourage the hip-hop generation to
cooperate with authorities when criminal acts are committed.
To be certain, the issue of snitching is neither restricted to nor
rooted in hip-hop culture. Within most American communities,
reporting other people’s bad acts is a practice that is strongly
discouraged. Judaic, Islamic, and Christian laws all speak negatively
about backbiting and gossip. Mantras like “don’t be a tattle tale”
and “snitches get stitches” serve as early childhood reminders for
many Americans, irrespective of race and class, of the moral and
pragmatic consequences that accompany snitching. Prominent white
Americans like New York Times writer Judith Miller, who recently came
under attack from her neo-conservative comrades for failing to expose
Lewis “Scooter” Libby, have paid dearly (multi-million dollar book
deals notwithstanding) for their commitments to secrecy. Even the
police, who are among the strongest opponents of the “Stop Snitching”
movement, have a ‘blue code’ of silence that protects them from
internal snitches. Nevertheless, the hip-hop community has absorbed
the brunt of the public attack on snitching, with little effort given
to examining the unique significance of snitching within urban
communities.
While critics dismiss the “Stop Snitching” campaign as a rejection of
civic responsibility that further verifies dominant public beliefs
about the moral incompetence of the hip-hop generation, a closer
analysis reveals a much more complicated set of issues that have gone
unaddressed. In its a priori dismissal of the “Stop Snitching”
campaign, the general public has failed to acknowledge the moral
complexity and legitimacy of an anti-snitching position. In all
fairness, this is partially the fault of the hip-hop industry itself,
which has marketed “Stop Snitching” in ways that undermine any claims
to moral authority by not placing any conditions or caveats on its
pleas for silence. While it is certainly problematic to condemn all
acts of communication with authorities, it is equally shortsighted
and irresponsible to advocate an absolute pro-snitching position.
The act of snitching necessarily creates a social and ethical
quagmire in which an individual must sacrifice one set of loyalties
for another. More specifically, the potential snitch is forced to
choose between competing ethical codes and social commitments when
making their decision. Often, this process entails deciding between
locally defined rules and larger, more official ones. For example,
Lil’ Kim’s refusal to identify her crew members as assailants during
a shootout at the Hot 97 radio station was an anti-snitching gesture
that privileged her friendship bonds and street ethics over the
established laws of the land regarding obstruction of justice. While
it is tempting to condemn all such acts on moral or ethical grounds —
in this case, arguing that Kim should have protected the interests of
the assaulted and not those of the assailants — it is necessary to
consider the validity and value of the particular rules and issues at
stake on a case-by-case basis. It is also important to understand the
various ways that snitching is considered and discussed within the
context of hip-hop culture.
Dry Snitching
Dry snitching is one of the most common practices within contemporary
hip-hop culture. The term emerged from prison culture to describe an
inmate who, in an effort to avoid a confrontation, would talk loudly
or otherwise draw attention to himself in order to attract a nearby
correctional officer. This is done as a way of “snitching without
snitching”. Dry snitching also refers to the act of implicating
someone else, intentionally or unintentionally, while speaking to an
authority figure. Dry snitches are typically considered to be weak,
naive, passive aggressive, or self-centered, all of which present
ethical and practical dilemmas that must be weighed when discussing
the practice of snitching.
For example, before channeling Tupac and becoming America’s thug de
jour, 50 Cent was a struggling rapper attempting to make a name for
himself on the underground scene. In a 2000 song “Ghetto Quran”, 50
named and described many of New York’s most notorious drug dealers,
including Pappy Mason, Rich Porter, Fat Cat, Prince, and Kenneth
“Supreme” McGriff. The song earned 50 many enemies in New York’s
crime underworld, who were angry at the precarious legal position in
which they believed 50’s public disclosures might have placed them.
It was this anger, according to the federal prosecutors involved in
Chris and Irv Gotti’s recent trial that led to 50’s May 2000
shooting. To many observers, 50’s sonic, dry snitching revelations
undermined the very ghetto authenticity that the song was intended to
evince.
Another example of dry snitching occurred in 2003, when Kobe Bryant
was arrested on rape charges. While being interrogated, Bryant freely
disclosed potentially embarrassing aspects of teammate Shaquille
O’Neal’s personal life in order to gain favor with Colorado police.
According to the Los Angeles Times, Kobe reportedly told the officers
that he should have followed Shaq’s example and paid the woman not to
say anything, adding that Shaq had already spend over one million
dollars for those purposes. While some attributed this slip-up to
Kobe’s inexperience in such situations — one of the reasons that the
suburban bred Kobe will never reach the ghetto superstar status of
his generational peer, Allen Iverson, despite his extravagantly
calculated gestures — others saw it as a passive aggressive act
against his not so secret rival.
More recently, Karrine “Superhead” Steffans released her bestselling
memoir, Confessions of a Video Vixen (Amistad, 2005) in which she
exposes the underside of the hip-hop industry. In offering her self-
proclaimed “cautionary tale”, Steffans also names numerous
celebrities with whom she engaged in sexual encounters. While many
people expressed disgust for her exploits — unfortunately, few people
expressed similar disgust for the promiscuity of the men with whom
she shared the trysts — others were more disturbed at the
embarrassment that the book caused in the lives of her former
partners, many of whom were married.
The motivations and morality of each of these acts of snitching are
debatable. Did Kobe “out” Shaq out of innocent fear, or was it a
disturbing display of schadenfreude? Was 50 ratting out the
underworld elite, or merely paying homage? Is Steffans confessing her
sins, or selling out her former running buddies? If we assume that
all three of these people were not attempting to harm anyone else, is
it okay for them to report someone else’s misdeeds? Even if each of
them were to admit that they had the worst intentions at heart, do
they have any commitment to the people with whom they shared implicit
or explicit compacts? Does this commitment change if they now believe
the agreements to be immoral? While these questions are not easily
answerable (if at all), they suggest that an anti-snitching position
can be a legitimate and sophisticated response to dilemmas such as
these.
Wet Snitching
Perhaps the most dangerous form of snitching that takes place in
urban spaces is wet (also known as hard) snitching. Unlike dry
snitching, which maintains a degree of indirection and unawareness,
wet snitching occurs when an individual acts as a government
informant in order to eliminate or reduce his or her own legal
liability. Given the nature of most commercial anti-snitching
messages — for example, recent t-shirts contain quotes like “I’ll
Never Tell” and “N##### Just Lookin’ For A Deal” — wet snitching is
both the most reviled and relevant form within hip-hop culture.
While informants have always played a critical role in the
government’s surveillance, infiltration, and destruction of countless
progressive social organizations, informants have become increasingly
central to the prosecution of ordinary citizens. According to the
United States Sentencing Commission, nearly 40 percent of drug
trafficking prosecutions that resulted in sentences of 10 years or
more (a population in which blacks and Latinos are grossly
overrepresented) were directly connected to the contributions of
informants. While at first glance this type of data may signal
progress in the government’s ostensible war against crime, a closer
look reveals both moral and practical shortcomings.
While the practice of snitching has drastically increased the amount
of drug arrests and convictions, it has also undermined the overall
well being of America’s most economically and politically vulnerable
communities. According to Loyola professor Alexandra Natapoff, who
published a groundbreaking 2004 article, “Snitching: The
institutional and Communal Consequences”, mandatory (and, I would
argue, race targeted) drug sentencing laws, combined with the
reduction of judicial flexibility have created tens of thousands of
snitches who are mainly operating within poor, crime ridden
neighborhoods. While snitching does not only occur within black and
Latino communities, such areas are particularly susceptible, since
one out of every four black and one out of every eight Latinos
between 20 and 29 are under criminal supervision at any time. Given
this reality, it is not surprising that, according to Natapoff, one
out of every four young blacks are under pressure to snitch at any
time. It is also not surprising that one out of 12 black men
currently function as snitches within their communities in exchange
for reduced criminal liability and continued police “protection”.
At a moment when civil liberties are in jeopardy for all Americans
due to the Patriot Act and sophisticated forms of domestic spying,
the proliferation of snitches creates a new set of problems for
ghetto denizens. Increased violence, sustained crime rates, growing
distrust of fellow citizens (imagine going to the basketball court,
barbershop, or the local bar knowing that one in twelve people in
your community — and possibly that guy sitting right next to you — is
a government informant), destruction of positive community-police
relationships, and the invasion of privacy for law-abiding citizens
are all consequences of the ghetto snitch industry. Instead of merely
enabling the drug culture’s foot soldiers to “flip” on big bosses
(the expressed governmental intent of wet snitching), the current
system often allows everyone to trade information for leniency, not
least because the government is drowning in overstocked dockets and
the criminals are masterful manipulators of the truth.
Indeed, in addition to fracturing communities with their deeds,
snitches are notoriously unreliable in their testimony. To satisfy
the conditions of their agreements, settle personal scores, or
support their own criminal activity (which must be sustained in order
to continue procuring information for the government — how’s that for
a catch-22?), snitches often manufacture stories and falsely accuse
friends, family, neighbors, and rivals of criminal acts. According to
the Northwestern University Law School’s Center on Wrongful
Convictions, nearly half of the nation’s wrongful death penalty
convictions are due to the information provided by snitches.
It has become increasingly apparent that the practice of snitching is
undergirded by tragically flawed public policies that have vicious
effects on the stability and integrity of black and Latino
communities. Given this reality, it is no wonder that many within the
hip-hop community have openly rejected the practice of snitching.
Unfortunately, the “no snitching” code, now appropriated as a fashion
statement, has often been articulated without critical nuance and has
resulted in an extremist position that betrays its own inherent
complexity.
Snitching vs. Witnessing
In order to fully understand the legitimacy of the “Stop Snitching”
movement within hip-hop, it is important to make a distinction
between snitching and witnessing. While witnessing can be rightly
considered a necessary civic practice in order to create and sustain
safe communities, snitching is itself an act of moral turpitude.
While a witness is an asset to truth and justice, the snitch is
motivated primarily or entirely by self-interest. While witnesses are
committed to upholding social contracts, snitches inevitably
undermine them. Given this distinction, it seems that the bulk of the
public outcry in favor of snitching is actually a plea for witnesses.
In building their case, anti-snitching pundits often cite instances
in which acts of random or unnecessary violence go unpunished due to
the public’s refusal to act responsibly. A classic example of this
“Bad Samaritan” behavior occurred in 1997 when seven-year-old
Sherrice Iverson was molested and strangled in a Las Vegas bathroom
stall by Jeremy Strohmeyer. Although Strohmeyer eventually confessed
to the crime, police were unaided by his friend David Cash, who
acknowledged witnessing the event but did not feel compelled to
notify authorities.
While the public disgust and rejection of Cash’s acts were nearly
unanimous, such examples often serve as straw arguments — even the
most ardent anti-snitching voices would condemn Cash’s decision —
that obscure more legitimate and commonplace moral dilemmas. For
example, what should Cash have done if he had caught Strohmeyer
stealing chips from the casino or smoking marijuana instead of
assaulting the young girl? In this instance, the necessity of acting
as a witness becomes more debatable. The potential reasons for this
shift in sentiment are varied: a lack of deference for the particular
laws that protect gambling establishments, a collective distrust of
the particular casino or the casino industry, a lack of interest in
punishing recreational drug use (they may smoke marijuana, as well),
or fear of repercussions from the offender. For these and many other
reasons, many people would opt to “mind my own business” under such
circumstances. Like the hip-hop community, the larger American public
makes decisions about snitching based on their own level of
commitment to particular rules, laws, and groups, as well as their
consideration of the particular stakes attached to intervening. We
all make this decision to some degree or another, many times in our
lives.
The Final Verdict
The most prominent critiques of the “Stop Snitching” campaign
represent yet another failure of the general public to acknowledge
the depth and truth-value of the hip-hop community’s social
commentary. Upon closer examination, an anti-snitching posture is a
response to a set of circumstances, some unique and others universal,
that many members of the hip-hop generation face. Clearly, the
complexity of these circumstances cannot be adequately addressed
through an “either-or” position on snitching. By advocating snitching
under all circumstances, we ignore the moral dilemmas that are part
and parcel of the practice. Also, we ascribe a level of unearned
trust and moral authority to formal institutions, such as the
government, despite its consistent indifference to the well being of
its most defenseless citizens.
Conversely, by not articulating the particular rules and conditions
under which snitching is highly problematic, the hip-hop community
creates the conditions for a fundamentalist reading of a “don’t talk
to cops” social text. Surely this can lead to the type of moral
irresponsibility and social decline that snitching advocates believe
already exists. The solution, then, rests upon our ability to cease
looking for simple answers to complex issues and begin the difficult
work of open, engaged, and public dialogue about both snitching and
witnessing.
Dr. Marc Lamont Hill is a professor at Temple University and one of
the nation’s leading hip-hop intellectuals. He can be contacted
through his website: www.MarcLamontHill.com.
