The hazing death of FAMU drum major Robert Champion has resulted in the suspension of the FAMU Marching 100 and the dismissal of its band director. The president was reprimanded and remains in the cross hairs of accountability, disgrace and legal liability.
The real-world impact on that Tallahassee campus, however, remains problematic. You can suspend the band. You can replace a band director. You can initiate an anti-hazing campaign. And you can play the “zero tolerance card.”
But can you replace a culture?
That’s the question, because that’s the source of the problem, one that is hardly without precedent–especially at historically black colleges and universities. Ask officials at Morehouse College in Atlanta. They know what school–and what school’s violent “hazing” tradition–was parodied in Spike Lee’s School Daze. They knew Lee, a graduate of Morehouse, didn’t make it up.
But no school has had a more notorious–nor acclaimed–marching band than FAMU. It is both scoundrel and exemplar.
This sick sort of “hazing”–physical pounding–within factions of the band has been going on for so many years that it’s become institutionally embedded. But it’s hardly FAMU’s dirty little secret. There’s also a public record. It’s well documented, for example, that FAMU has had to settle more than once over band members being seriously injured in the euphemistic name of “hazing.” The reality is they were pummeled to the point of kidney failure. The “hazing” ignominy also includes a FAMU clarinetist who was hospitalized just a couple of months ago after a beating by fellow band members.
Then a few weeks back, the ultimate dread was realized. This time a pummeling resulted in a homicide. And given the cautionary tales preceding it, it was inevitable. This culture of “hazing” as felony, moreover, is perversely complemented by the “no snitch” ethos still prominent in many black communities. You protect your own, however short-sighted and counterproductive. As a result, witnesses are hard to come by.
There’s only one way to get the attention and cooperation of band members, current and future. Disband the band. If not forever, a least for a couple of years. Put it this way: If the NCAA can impose the so-called “death penalty” by shutting down a football program (e.g. SMU) that goes rogue with its recruiting tactics, a university can shut down a band that marches to the beat of a homicidal drummer.
This post is far over due and I agree with your position on this matter. I am a former Bethune-Cookman Marching Wildcat and I suffered fractured ribs from hazing that took place on the eve of the Florida Classic twenty-five years ago. I also had guns brandished in my face on several occasions. The band director at that time was doing everything he could to eliminate hazing, but had to contend with the code of silence that was deeply embedded into the minds of the band members. The sad thing about it is that the members who embrace hazing the most were usually the worst students and musicians. Often times the “Worms” (new band members) who were the most talented were the ones who suffered hazing the most.
I think the answer to this problem lies within the recruitment process. This is no secret… many of the kids who are offered scholarships for these programs have questionable backgrounds. Some are drug dealers as well as gang members who walk around with hand guns tucked into the back of their pants… on campus. Intimidation is the main reason why the code of silence isn’t broken. Unfortunately, the backgrounds are not considered if that kid is at least mediocre at beating a drum or blowing a horn.