Saturday, March 30, 2013

Adult Education and Older Adult Learners



This is a reblog from my other blog, partsofspeaking.  

You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

We’ve all heard that statement a thousand times in our lives.  It may be true about dogs, but it does not apply to people.

I am a doctoral student in a program in Adult Education and Organizational Leadership.  It is an executive style program for mid-career professionals, or so it is advertised.  As someone who has already been employed in various forms of higher education for (gasp) 35 years, I don’t really fit the description of the mid-career professional.  I do fit the description of an adult learner, of course, and I found out today I met the standard of an older adult learner, a special class—I’m over 50 or 55.  I am 57, and I am sure a lot of my friends and colleagues think I am crazy or something a little less foolish for doing doctoral work at this age. 

I will not be able to retire for 13 or more years, due to Social Security and getting a late start on investments (and having investments that have plummeted in values twice in the last fifteen years).  I don’t really want to retire until I can do it cleanly, with no need to come back into the workforce unless I just want to.  I am sure by then I will have been long tired of working anyway, especially teaching freshmen.

Which brings me to my second reason—a desire to get out of teaching so much, maybe just one course a semester and then doing administrative work.  Or getting out of higher education entirely; maybe consulting, doing creative work, writing, speaking. 

The third reason is instrumental:  I want Dr. in front of my name for at least some of my professional life.  As a colleague says, the doctorate only matters if you don’t have it.  I am not quite that cynical, but I do see that many doors are closed to me without it. 

The fourth reason is personal:  I have always wanted to earn a doctorate, and I felt I was getting stale.  That stale feeling has definitely gone away in the last ten months.  As I often say, there is no scaffolding in doctoral work, just as there is no crying in baseball.  If someone starts talking about a theory or theorists you don’t understand, go get the book or at least look it up on Wikipedia.  The professor won’t do it for you, which is ok. 

Related to the personal is wanting my mother and other family members see me graduate with the Ed.D. (I’m not going to get into arguments about the quality or rigor of a Ph.D. vs. an Ed.D.  This program is plenty rigorous for me and it’s what I want to study, so other persons’ opinions don’t much matter at this point.)  My mother has cancer and we have no idea how long she will be with us; however, ten months ago, when she started chemo, we didn’t think she would be here at Christmas, and now it’s Easter.  Since she went through high school and my father got to the third grade, and since I am a first generation student, earning a doctorate, even at 59, will be an accomplishment.  I have always been a late bloomer (due to Kallmann’s syndrome and other reasons) so the late date is not a problem for me.

Finally, the degree is almost free and very accessible, so I am able to afford it without debt, and I am pleased to say my cohortians are wonderful people.

I assumed I was the oldest person in the cohort, although I found out that I was not.  One woman was born a year and half before I was.  I still feel like the oldest, though, so the concept of what we had to read in our textbook this week was very appropriate for me:  Adult Education and the Older Learner.

People over 55 trying to learn are a unique group, but not a small one, not a homogeneous one, and not one to be ignored.  We have different reasons for learning than do younger populations, but not entirely.  The U.S. population is aging (this is a truism and doesn’t really need support, but the Census Bureau would be a good place to verify it: http://www.census.gov/prod/cen2010/briefs/c2010br-09.pdf   In fact, more people were 65 years and over in 2010 than in any previous census. Between 2000 and 2010, the population 65 years and over increased at a faster rate (15.1 percent) than the total U.S population (9.7 percent).”  Because Americans are aging, the needs of senior adult learners should occupy a much bigger portion of our attention as adult learners.

However, stereotypes and attitudes about aging are still very strong.  When I go to Facebook to browse, I see that my older friends love to post cartoons and memes about age.  The Hallmark old lady predominates.   “Jokes” about creaking bones, slipping memories and slipped discs, pains, grandchildren being better than children, and nostalgia about ice trays and old-time coffee makers abound, at least on my page.  If someone 60 or over wants to learn, it must be for family or personal growth, primarily. 

As the chapter by Mary Alice Wolf and E. Michael Brady, “Adult and Continuing Education for an Aging Society” (2010) argues, “For many adults—whether it be for meaning making, vocation, literacy, socialization, or personal development—learning is a voluntary, often need-driven activity.  Older people make an active decision to embark on this quixotic and dynamic path:  to partake as learners of a variety of person, programmatic, and social endeavors” (p. 369).  In other words, we must be careful as professional educators not to bracket those over 55 or 60 too easily and too quickly.  I am an example.  They give others at the end of their chapter—that senior learners in their research vary from a prison inmate getting literacy skills to a rabbi learning to deal with aging congregants.   

We are often told that those who continue to learn will be healthier and will be less likely to develop dementia and Alzheimer’s.  From what I have read, the jury is still out on that conclusion; other reasons for illness, such as genetics, can influence early morbidity and mortality.  Perhaps we should focus on quality of life rather than length.  Research cited by Wolf and Brady does show that active elders seek medical care less frequently, but learning is just one part of “activity” in terms of the elderly.  These categories still seem fluid, anyway.  I don’t think of myself as elderly (although my freshmen students do!).  Adult learning makes life more meaningful, but it seems that for the most part this is self-directed and informal/nonformal learning, although some elderly do pursue formal education and certification, and many over 55 (if we are going to use that as the cut-off) engage in continuing education and professional education for their careers and jobs.  Since it seems like technological change is constant, anyone who is still working will be expected to learn new programs and platforms, policies and procedures.  I remember years ago a local news report on a woman in her 80s who earned her GED.  She said, memorably, “The two things nobody can take away from your are your salvation and your education.” 

It is interesting that in a book with so many theories, there is only one theory mentioned in the chapter about this population, and that is Eric Erickson.   The quotation of his used is a bit depressing:  “What is the last ritualization built into the style of old age?  I think it is philosophical:  for in maintaining some order and meaning in the disintegration of body and mind, it can also advocate a durable hope in wisdom” (p. 370).  Well, thank you for that, Eric!  Disintegration, hunh?  In all seriousness, I know there are a lot of theoretical perspectives about aging in other fields, such as social work and medicine.  As the authors go on to say, in educational fields there is a great potential for older adults to  be marginalized, pushed to the side, and only allowed to follow subjects that “old people” would like.

I am thinking about writing a paper about my own experience with older learners in my writers’ group.  We meet twice a month at 3:30 on the second and fourth Thursday.  We meet at 3:30 at the local library (and sometimes Panera Bread) because the oldest members do not want to drive in the dark in the winter.  We have had ten to fifteen people in our group; the membership and attendance is fluid, but as the leader I do not want to be a dictator.  I try to reach consensus with them about our procedures.  The youngest member is probably about fifty, but she no longer works, after several years as an elementary school teacher.  She writes poetry, religious plays, and short essays; she was recently published in the Chicken Soup series, which we all rejoiced about.  Our oldest two members are in their eighties, both veterans of the Korean War.  One is a gifted writer but currently unable to come to the meetings because of his wife’s serious illness.  The other is writing memoirs about his war experiences.  The first gentleman was a journalist and understands style; the second gentleman, who is hard of hearing and sometimes interjects comments that have nothing to do with the discussion topic, is a wonderful storyteller but doesn’t quite get the point of punctuation.

Another member suffers from a muscular atrophying disease like ALS, Kennedy’s Disease.  He maintains a blog about it and is writing a fantasy novel.  He takes over when I am not there, as happened Thursday because of my (and here’s the old age part) sciatica.  The next member is a middle-aged woman writing a procedural novel; she has had a serious bout with Bells Palsy but works diligently at her craft although she does not have a higher educational background and works for UPS.  The sixth member is an old friend who herself graduated from college where I teach in her fifties; she is a marvelous writer who is self-directed but needs some other eyes to look at her prose.  The seventh member is a character herself, an old-time Southern woman from
“Chahleston South Caylina” who writes dazzling poetry and a memoir about her life in the ‘30s and ‘40s on the South Carolina coast.  She has had a rich life and it comes out in her writing.  The eighth member is another accomplished writer, a former journalist, who has two motives:  to write for her family to know their and her past, and to tell about a murder mystery in a funeral home (it’s quite funny).  The ninth member is new and is writing a memoir about her late husband’s struggle with mental illness.  I am the tenth member who is currently attending, but we have had at least four or five others who have attended and submitted writing.  I am working on my fifth novel, a Southern Gothic thing in the vein of Fried Green Tomatoes, The Help, and Faulkner.

Our procedure is to send each other, by email, a piece no longer than ten pages.  It can be prose, poetry, memoir, fiction, nonfiction.  We either print it out or send back to the person with track changes.  Each person gets ten to fifteen minutes in the meeting, depending on how many are there that day.  If the members wants to read their selection, they can, but we don’t encourage oral reading because a publisher (and we all want to be published) will want the piece to be correct in terms of “look” as well as “sound.”  Then we talk about what works and what doesn’t.  We are honest, maybe too honest for some people.  We’ve lost at least two members who didn’t want a critique group, but just a place to read and feel warm and fuzzy.  We are kind, but not warm and fuzzy. 

We are serious writers, and we get results.  Three of our members are writing poetry for a book about the Blue Ridge Parkway and all three will be published; the author of the book of photographs has said that our group has “added class” to the project.  Yes!  I value their input into my story.

My point in this narrative is that it is a case study in Older Adult Learning.  We are learning in this group—about writing and publishing.  We face critique, and sometimes it’s a little stinging.  But as older people we face some challenges that a group of thirty-somethings would not.  Many of us have health problems that get in the way of everyday life and doing everything we would like to.  Many of us have family caregiving issues.  Many of us are writing for philosophical purposes, as Erickson would say.  To create a legacy for others and families; to leave a record of ourselves; to make meaning.  To say “I was here and here’s proof, and it’s good proof—I knew what I was doing when I wrote this.” 

This is true of the gentleman who has Kennedy’s Disease; he is confined to a wheelchair and always will be.  I asked him why he was writing the fantasy novel, which is quite good but still in process.  He said he just wanted to finish it, and there is some courage in that statement.  There is a social element—we like each other and meeting.  It takes a lot out of me personally, but I am pleased when I know the others have had a good meeting.  Some of the writing is for a purpose, like a Christmas play at a church.  None of us expects to be the next John Grisham, not really, although we would like to make some money from the writing.

In terms of other research about adult learners, I suppose that they fit the norms.  They are all white (the county I live in has less than 2% African American population, I am sorry to say); women outnumber the men; almost all have some college background and all would probably fit into middle class, at least when they were younger and not on fixed incomes.   Only two of the current attenders work, and the rest are either retired, on disability, or stopped working early to take care of family. 

I have told them that I will be doing a focus group or interviews with them to document this learning more scientifically and perhaps publish or present on the subject of older adult informal/nonformal, self-directed learning.  They would be a great group for this subject.
  

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Group Dynamics in Twelve Angry Men

This is one of my most popular posts.  I hope that if people are using this for research papers, they are citing me correctly!


Abstract
The 1957 film Twelve Angry Men is a dramatic portrayal of what happens in a jury room after a murder trial in which the defendant is a young minority man who has allegedly killed his father with a switchblade knife.  Eleven of the jurors are ready to declare a guilty verdict in the first five minutes, but one juror performs the Central Negative role in the group in order to save them from groupthink, as described by Irving Janis (1972) and also save the defendant from execution.  The paper examines how the film portrays the deterioration of the jury’s ideational homogeneity.

Eleven Angry Men and One Central Negative
The Sixth Amendment to the Constitution states: 
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.  (U.S. Const.  amend. VI)
This right to a jury trial is the foundation of our legal and justice system.  Because English common law required a jury of twelve, that tradition was adopted in the early United States; the requirement that the verdict be unanimous was also adopted, almost taken for granted.  The jury is to act as one voice in condemning or acquitting the defendant. 
Novelists, playwrights, and Hollywood screenwriters have long used the jury system and the trial scenario as a backbone of their craft.  However, one film/play stands out for it emphasis not on public courtroom histrionics but on the deliberation behind closed doors, where the jurors meet in private.  Twelve Angry Men, a 1957 film directed by Sidney Lumet and based on a teleplay by  Reginald Rose,  enacts for about two hours the group processes of twelve male jurors of somewhat diverse backgrounds, motivations, and world views as they move to a decision that the defendant is not guilty.  For many reasons, the film is a good way to study group dynamics, consensus, and groupthink.
Before analyzing the film, three background comments.  This play is a staple of high school and college theatre, but because in the original all the characters are male (and white), today the play is presented as Twelve Angry Jurors so that females can play the parts.  Anyone who has worked in educational theatre knows that there are far more females than males in those settings.  Secondly, the play takes some small liberties with the justice system since it is fiction and must provide dramatic moments.  The main character, Davis, played by Henry Fonda, more or less retries the case and interprets the evidence, forcing the other jurors to make their decision based not on what the lawyers presented but on what Davis presents.  Third, all of the characters are European Americans; although one character is a naturalized immigrant, he is apparently German or Eastern European.  Therefore, the diversity comes from class, education, and background.
Plot and Characters 
The characters do not really have names; only two at the end introduce themselves.  To keep them separate, I will name them by their defining characteristics:  Mr. Central Negative (Davis) – Henry Fonda; Mr. Mindless Baseball Fan – Jack Warden; Mr. Broker – E.G. Marshall;
Mr. Embittered – Lee J. Cobb; Mr. Immigrant – George Voskovec; Mr. Racist – Ed Begley;  Mr. Slum Background – Jack Klugman; Mr. Foreman – Martin Balsam; Mr. Old Man – Joseph Sweeney; Mr. Ad Executive – Robert Webber; Mr. Working Joe – Edward Binns;  and Mr. Milquetoast – John Fiedler.
The film starts with a long tracking shot of the outside of the court building that serves as symbol of the power of the justice system; the camera looks up at tall Corinthian columns and then goes inside the halls to see the scurrying reporters.  The setting establishes part of the reason for the nascent groupthink that will define the group’s beginning—a sense of invulnerability and group morality (Park, 2000) based on the group’s connection to the American justice system.   Next we see the jurors being charged by the judge, whose words imply that he thinks only one verdict is possible.  As the jury leaves to deliberate, we finally see the defendant, a young man who looks like a juvenile (he is eighteen, we learn later) and also looks as if he is of Italian, Latino, or Middle Eastern descent. 
Next, the jurors file into their deliberation room.  The setting of the close, drab room with a broken fan and no air conditioning on the hottest day of the year is important to the tension.  Later a thunderstorm comes up and serves as an interlude to the growing tensions and also symbolizes that something has changed in the room and in the group.   The facilitator, the foreman, begins to do his job by organizing the jurors around the table by their numbers and then asking for a vote.  All, of course, vote guilty, having already expressed that of course the “boy” is clearly guilty and that there is no other possible verdict.  That is, all but one, the white-suited, tall, calm, implacable juror whom we later learn is named Davis. 
Group Dynamics in the Film
Groups, according to Tuchman (1965) go through the phases of forming, storming, norming, and performing, and adjourning, or more specifically, orientation to the task, emotional response to task demands, development of in-group feeling and cohesiveness, and constructive action.  In a loose sense, the jury portrayed in this film does progress through these stages, but in a punctuated way rather than a clean, consistent, evolutionary way (Gersick, 1991).  The forming stage is very short; the storming phase takes up almost the entirety of the film; the norming phase takes place quickly and right before the performing (the decision on the verdict) phase.
 The structure of the film is to progress through Davis’ deconstruction of the case evidence piece by evidence piece.  After each phase, a vote is taken and more and more jurors come to say “not guilty.”  Finally, only three are left to say “guilty”—the Broker, who is methodical and logical and not quick to be swayed by Davis’ arguments; the Racist, who goes on a rant about “these kind of people” until everyone ostracizes him by turning their backs on him, literally; and finally Mr. Embittered, who is holding on to the conflict with his son, breaks down and realizes the real core of his opposition, and votes “not guilty.”  The Central Negative has swayed everyone to his side.
Central Negative is a role defined by Janis originally in one of his later works on groupthink.  As Cragan, Wright, and Kasch (2008) state, the central negative role is considered so important that it should be delegated or assigned.  However, there is some contradiction, even in their book, over whether the central negative is an altogether positive force in groups.  The role—the set of behaviors associated with being a devil’s advocate and questioning the group’s assumptions and quickly, easily made decisions—is one that, if assigned, should be rotated.  If the role is really just a personality, that person’s negativity will truly become central and hurt the group’s processes.
In the film, it is not clear, at least to me, whether the Davis character is playing the role, is always a “centrally negative person,” or is motivated by something else.  He is constantly called a “do-gooder” and “bleeding heart” by the other characters, and he is so calm and unemotional that one wonders if he could be some sort of plant for the defense!  At one point he says, “I don’t know the truth.  Can we know it?”  This seems to be an odd, postmodern line in a 1950s’ film; likewise, the goal of the trial system is to discover truth, not to doubt its existence.  He seems to be saying that since they can’t know any truth, and therefore the truth about this trial, even from the evidence, that they should not convict the young man.  That is a far cry from not buying the prosecution’s case.  He is not just questioning the lawyer’s arguments—he is questioning reality and the basis of human action.  On the other hand, perhaps he has an ulterior motive in his disruption of the groupthink.  He is stalwart in not backing down, despite what is thrown at him. 
The jury scenario is a form of group process, but it is constituted by certain rules and expectations that distinguish it from work groups and teams.  The goal is total, yes/no agreement; rarely in a real group is perfect consensus met, but a type of compromise consensus where everyone can support the final outcome but at different levels of emotional commitment.  There are twelve members, according to tradition; work groups operate best with seven or so.  The work group exists for an extended period of time, perhaps years, while the jury exists for a few hours to a few weeks, with rare exceptions.  The work group members usually know each other outside of the group and will continue to have a relationship afterward because they, of course, work for the same organization.  The jury members may never see each other again and ideally should not know each other beforehand, although in a small community that is hard to ensure. 
Finally, a work group would be far more diverse than the group depicted in the film.  Juries should ideally be diverse, but they often are not.  Mitchell and Eckstein (2009), in their study of groupthink in juries, state,
Through the process of voir dire, in which prospective jurors are examined, attorneys attempt to make informed juror selections that will benefit their cases (Howard and Redfering, 1983).  In doing so, they attempt to make the jury more homogeneous with respect to the qualities that they perceive to be beneficial.” (p. 165) 
Groupthink in juries is a real phenomenon.  Mitchell and Eckstein’s study is very helpful in analyzing the group dynamics portrayed in the film, and it is this element that I would like to explore in this paper.  In fact, they reference Twelve Angry Men as an example of a situation where groupthink did not take over the verdict; however, I would take a different tack.  Eleven of the angry jurors are clearly involved in groupthink in the first fifteen minutes, but the film serves as an example of how groupthink can be solved.    
Groupthink Theory
The theory of groupthink was originated by Irving Janis, a psychology professor at Yale, in 1972.  He based “groupthink” on case studies of political and governmental decision-making disasters, such as the Bay of Pigs.  Since that time, the word has become well known, but researchers differ on how much empirical evidence supports the theory.  Turner and Pratkanis (1998) point out the theory is difficult to study empirically because Janis involved so many variables in the theory (24) that controlled experimentation and coding of language behavior is very complex.  They also state that there are three interpretations of the theory and that “how to translate theoretical concepts into observable and measurable constructs becomes a source of heated debate” (p. 108).
Turner and Pratkanis’ view is echoed by Park (2000), who did set out to study the many variables in a controlled setting.  As he states, “Janis’s groupthink model, which has 24 variables all together, consists of four categories:  the antecedent conditions of groupthink, symptoms of groupthink, symptoms of defective decision making, and outcomes” (p. 875).  He goes on to say that of the 30 studies trying to verify the theory up to that time, the studies that supported it were content analysis or case studies research, and that empirical research either “partially supported or did not support the model” (p. 876). 
            Dealing with twenty-four variables is daunting, so I would like to focus on the categories of antecedent conditions and symptoms in this analysis of the film.  These variables are:
·        Antecedent conditions:  Group cohesiveness, leadership style (close-mindedness), group insulation, methodical procedure, group homogeneity, external stress, hope to make better decision, and self esteem
·        Symptoms of groupthink (occurring in the actual deliberation):  illusion of invulnerability, belief in group morality, collective rationalization, stereotypes of out-groups, self-censorship, illusion of unanimity, pressure on dissenters, self-appointed mindguards (Park, 2000)
All of these symptoms of groupthink exist in the film, to some extent, although some predominate.  The illusion of invulnerability is inherent in juries, since they do have a great deal of power in our legal system—unless they cannot come to a verdict.  In the film, the characters express a fear of being a “hung jury,” which would constitute failure. Even those who begin to agree with Central Negative Davis believe that the defendant would not get a “not guilty” verdict on a second trial.   Belief in group morality is also strong in this jury, except perhaps for one character.  Likewise, one or two characters are self-appointed mindguards, especially adamant about their position until the very end. 
 Stereotyping of out-groups is strong in the film.  One of the key elements is Mr. Racist’s continued insistence that the defendant is “one of them,” raised in the slums, from whom society cannot expect more.  However, the third juror to change was also “raised in the slums” and changes mainly to make the point that he identifies with the defendant.   The immigrant is the fourth to change his vote, also mainly to make a point about the judgmentalism he perceives in the group toward immigrants and the group’s lack of appreciation for democracy.  Collective rationalization exists to the extent that early in the film there is very little effort to think critically or to examine their assumptions.
Other characteristics that are seen in the film are group insulation, or isolation, which is part of the jury process.  The film starts with the assumption and illusion of unanimity; it is not until the last slip is read during the first vote that it becomes apparent someone is dissenting.  The pressure on the dissenter starts; in fact, the drama in the film comes from the hot, tired jurors badgering and berating Davis and anyone who starts to agree with him.  They insult the dissenters until the dissenters outnumber the “guilty” believers.  In terms of leadership style, the foreman is closed-minded and at one point even pouts and closes off communication because of a disagreement with his leadership decision.  He is one of the later ones to change his verdict, but by that time the Central Negative has taken charge and become the real procedural and emotional leader of the group. 
Ironically, group cohesiveness is not an issue in the early groupthink of the film that slowly disintegrates under Davis’ questioning.  The group members really do not seem to care about each other or have any cohesiveness beyond small talk, and there is actually quite a bit of animosity between them.  To the extent that cohesiveness means commitment to a task, all of the characters are focused on getting a verdict, although one member only wants to make a decision so he can go to a ball game.  Also not relevant to the groupthink dynamics of the film are the characteristics of hope to make better decision, self censorship (everyone talks eventually, since it is a movie), methodical procedure, and self esteem. 
Of course, the whole film is groupthink in reverse—not how groupthink leads to a bad decision, but how fighting it can stem the tide of groupthink, just as Janis suggested in 1972.  How does Davis do it?  First, he does not back down, although his “I don’t know about truth” statement makes one wonder why he is so adamant about finding truth he does not believe exists.  Second, he does not partake in the badgering, no matter how much he is insulted and no matter how much the insults become part of the group’s norms.    He is saintly in this respect.  Third, as each fellow juror begins to express doubts, even slight ones, he listens respectfully and encourages them on to the “logical conclusion” of their doubts.  The first to turn is the Old Man, who quickly becomes his ally; the Old Man has a sharper tongue than Davis does and puts others in their place when needed.  Fourth, he articulates his arguments very well and provides proof to his arguments that the evidence does not point to a guilty verdict; he even brings in his own evidence and re-enacts scenes.  In short, he is patient, diplomatic, and immoveable. 
The Answer to Groupthink
How did Janis say a group should battle groupthink?  At the end of his book he gives several prescriptions:
1.       The leader should encourage each member to give highest value to expressing ideas that do not fit the norm, and the leader should be open to those criticisms. 
2.      Organizational leadership should charge the group with tasks without giving predetermined or biased views of expectations of the results.
3.      Organizations should have more than one group working on a policy question, and each group should have a different leader.
4.      The work group should split up from time to time and meet separately.
5.      The members of the work group should be able to talk to outsiders about the group’s deliberations and report back their reactions.
6.      Outsiders, specifically experts, should be invited to meetings from time to time in order to challenge the group members’ ideas.
7.      One member should be assigned the devil’s advocate, or central negative, role at each meeting.
8.      The group should hold a “second chance meeting” (p. 218) where members can revisit the decision that has been made and feel free to express their doubts.
The jury process makes almost all of these prescriptions unfeasible in the jury room.  Only one, the first, that the leader should facilitate freedom of expression to disagree, is practical.  Given the time, social pressure, and personality constraints, it is easy to see that the kind of groupthink that appears at the beginning of Twelve Angry Men and that slowly evaporates in the course of the drama would be prevalent in most juries. 
References

Gersick, C. J. G.  (1991, January).  Revolutionary change theories:  A multilevel exploration of the punctuated equilibrium  paradigm. The Academy of Management Review, 16(1), 10-36.
Janis, I. L. (1972).  Victims of Groupthink.  Boston:  Houghton Mifflin.

Kragan, J. F., Wright, D. W., & Kasch, C. R.  (2008).  Communication in Small Groups:  Theory, Process, Skills.  Boston:  Cengage.  
Mitchell, D. H. & Eckstein, D.  (2009, September).  Jury dynamics and decision-making:  A prescription for groupthink.  International Journal of Academic Research, 1(1), 163-168.
Park, W.  (2000).  A comprehensive empirical investigation of the relationships among variables of the groupthink model.  Journal of Organizational Behavior, 21, 873-887.
Rose, R. (Producer), & Lumet, S. (Director).  (1957).  Twelve Angry Men.  United States:  Orion-Nova Productions.
Tuchman, B. W. (1965).  Developmental sequence in small groups.  Psychological Bulletin, 63(6), 384-399.
Turner, M. E. & Pratkanis, A. R. (1998, February/March).  Twenty-five years of groupthink theory and research:  Lessons from the evaluation of a theory.  Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, 73(2/3), 105-115.
U.S. Const. amend VI.