policing the edge: risk and
 social control in skydiving
 Jason Laurendeau and Erin Gibbs Van Brunschot
 Query Sheet
 Q1 Au: Lyng (2005) not in Ref list.
policing the edge: risk and
 social control in skydiving
 Jason Laurendeau and Erin Gibbs Van Brunschot
 University of Calgary, Calgary, Alberta,
 5Canada
 In this article, we draw on participant observation
 and interview data to explore risk and social
 control in skydiving. We explore Lyng’s (1990)
 concept of edgework, and argue that too little
 10attention has been paid to the ways edgeworkers
 may be enabled or constrained by various actors
 both outside and inside the edgework setting. We
 suggest that, while skydiving evokes notions of
 freedom and creativity, participants, and to a lesser
 15extent outsiders, constrain individual freedoms in
 skydiving through various formal and informal
 attempts at policing. In particular, experienced
 skydivers monitor how other jumpers go about
 negotiating the edge, often subtly and sometimes
 20conspicuously encouraging them to perform
 edgework in an acceptable manner. We conclude
 by discussing the implications of our findings for
 the conceptualization of the edgework model.
 In the popular imagination, skydiving appears as the ultimate
 25in freedom of expression and individuality. Images of enthu-
 siasts leaping from planes, freefalling to 2500 feet and then
 drifting toward earth under their parachutes often inspire
 Received 10 April 2005; accepted 6 July 2005
 Our thanks to several of the research ‘‘subjects’’ and the reviewers from Deviant
 Behavior for their helpful comments on earlier drafts of this paper.
 Address correspondence to Jason Laurendeau, Department of Sociology, University
 of Calgary, 2500 University Dr. N.W., Calgary, Alberta, Canada, T2N 1N4. E-mail:
 jlaurendeau@telus.net
 Deviant Behavior, 27: 1
29, 2006
 Copyright # Taylor & Francis Group, LLC
 ISSN: 0163-9625 print/1521-0456 online
 DOI: 10.1080/01639620500468535
 1
 3b2 Version Number : 7.51c/W (Jun 11 2001)
 File path : p:/Santype/journals/Taylor&Francis/Udbh/v27n2/udbh146836/udbh146836.3d
 Date and Time : 20/12/05 and 12:52
jumpers and non-jumpers alike to awed wonder. Yet
 freedom, as we all well know, is relative. While the popular
 30imagery of skydiving may be inspirational, the reality of this
 activity is that freedom and individuality are often curtailed
 by the parameters of the sport itself—obviously with respect
 to how and where this activity can be performed, but more
 importantly, they are controlled and policed by the parti-
 35cipants themselves and the standards that they observe and
 impose upon each other, both formally and informally. In
 contrast to its popular image, skydiving is not immune to poli-
 cing and control by forces both internal and external to it.
 In other individual sport pursuits such as hiking, for
 40example, freedom and individuality may be far greater, as
 more choices can be made with respect to where and with
 whom one hikes, which type of equipment one chooses,
 and so on. Even pursuits such as motorbike riding, although
 it requires and relies on technology (in terms of the bike and
 45helmet) and administrative pre-requisites (such as licensing
 and registration, for on-road activities), can be a solitary pur-
 suit—bikers can choose when and where to ride their bikes
 and with whom they might do so. Skydiving, on the other
 hand, is comparatively ‘encumbered.’ While individuals
 50may launch themselves from planes quite independently of
 fellow jumpers, obviously not all planes allow for such
 activity, nor is landing anywhere appropriate or desir-
 able—issues related to geography aside. Designated planes,
 pilots and drop zones (DZs) are required elements of the
 55sport. Further, choice in terms of equipment and its usage
 are highly policed, not only by drop zone operators (DZOs)
 who may face the possibility of liability for death or injury in
 the event of a mishap, but equipment and behavior choices
 are also policed by fellow jumpers who may openly admon-
 60ish (and at other times encourage) particular equipment
 choices and skydiving practices. In contrast to the popular
 ‘freedom of the skies’ imagery associated with this activity,
 skydiving as an expression of ‘freedom’ is, we argue,
 relatively policed.
 65In this article we examine the means by which freedom and
 choice are controlled by and policed within and, to some
 extent, outside of the sport of skydiving. We begin by orient-
 ing our analyses to a framework of risk-taking activity inspired
 by Lyng’s (1990) notion of edgework. Next, we provide a
 2 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
70description of our research methods, followed by a general
 description of the practice of skydiving. In our results section,
 we first discuss the types of policing external to skydiving, and
 then take up the most pervasive forms of social control, those
 which come from other jumpers. Finally, we discuss the
 75implications of our findings for the edgework model.
 EDGEWORK
 Lyng’s (1990) concept of edgework conceptualizes voluntary
 risk-taking as ‘‘involving, most fundamentally, the problem
 of negotiating the boundary between chaos and order’’ (Lyng
 801990:855). Essentially, edgework involves exploring the lim-
 its of one’s ability and=or the technology one is using, while
 maintaining enough control to successfully negotiate ‘the
 edge’ (Lyng 1993:111). Lyng’s original analysis employs a
 Marx-Meadian synthesis, suggesting that particular con-
 85ditions and consequences of post-industrial society create
 environments that limit individual expressions of creativity.1
 Spontaneous creativity is limited because individuals are
 constrained by the means of production. When spontaneous
 creativity is denied by material production, individuals will
 90seek creative outlets outside of work (such as drug consump-
 tion or motorcycle riding—see Lyng 1998). Rather than feel
 robbed of individual choice and pushed through life, some
 individuals will seek freedom of expression in areas that
 depend precisely upon risk and skill—skills that are under-
 95employed in the realm of material production. As Lyng notes,
 ‘‘for some, the dearth of possibilities for spontaneous and
 self-realizing action in the economic and bureaucratic
 spheres can be compensated for in the leisure-time pursuit
 of play’’ (1990:870).
 100In the field of sport sociology, one sees certain parallels
 between Lyng’s analysis and Elias and Dunning’s (1986)
 discussion of the quest for excitement (what some other
 sport sociologists have called ‘‘exciting significance’’—e.g.,
 1More recently, Lyng (2005) hasQ1 acknowledged that the synthesis of Marx and Mead
 may be complemented by an approach that conceptualizes edgework as an extension of
 the reality of consumer society, a ‘‘particular permutation of the structural logic embedded
 in the postmodern economy and culture’’ (Lyng 2005:297). He posits that these seemingly
 divergent explanations may reflect the ongoing debates about the ‘‘central structural
 imperatives of (post)modern society’’ (Lyng 2005:47).
 Policing the Edge 3
Atkinson 2002; Maguire 1991). These authors suggest that
 105as societies become increasingly differentiated, individuals
 undergo civilizing processes whereby they develop high
 levels of emotional control. In response, people search
 out ‘‘mimetic’’ activities—leisure activities that allow a
 quest for excitement that is ‘‘complimentary to the control
 110and restraint of overt emotionality in our ordinary life’’
 (Elias and Dunning 1986: 66). The authors class most,
 though not all, leisure activities into this ‘‘mimetic class.’’
 It is here that we see the divergence between the notion
 of exciting significance and edgework. All edgework activi-
 115ties could be classified as mimetic, but not all activities
 in the mimetic class are forms of edgework (e.g., Elias
 and Dunning specifically mention chess, painting, and
 ‘‘Western’’ films).
 Lyng points out that all edgework activities involve the
 120specific use of skills (such as those employed by graffiti wri-
 ters, skateboarders and BASE jumpers—see Ferrell 2005).2
 The skills that participants bring to bear are activity-specific,
 but are characterized by an ability to maintain control in
 situations that may appear to others as chaotic (like filming
 125someone else’s edgework experience while jumping from
 a bridge yourself—see Ferrell, Milovanovic, and Lyng
 2001). An important part of being an effective edgeworker
 is a ‘survival instinct,’ the ability to maintain composure in
 the face of chaos. Beyond this instinct, however, different
 130dimensions of a given pursuit often call for different sets of
 skills in maintaining control while negotiating the edge (for
 a discussion of skill sets employed in ‘‘financial edgework,’’
 see Smith 2005:196
97).
 Indeed, several observers have pointed to the importance of
 135the concept of control in Lyng’s edgework model (Celsi et al.
 1993; Lois 2005; Miller and Frey 1996; Reith 2005). Lois
 (2005), for instance, outlines how search and rescue volunteers
 maintain a sense of emotional control at various stages of
 the edgework experience, including redefining their feelings
 140in the wake of ‘‘unsuccessful’’ missions. Collectively, risk
 research suggests that edgeworkers do not blindly walk the
 edge, but rather stake it out, evaluating how much ‘chaos’ they
 2A BASE jump is a parachute jump from a stationary object rather than an aircraft. The
 acronym stands for Building, Antenna, Span (bridge), Earth (cliff).
 4 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
are able to manage given their expertise, experience, and abil-
 ity to maintain their cool in the face of sometimes extreme dis-
 145order (cf. Natalier 2001). That is, edgeworkers undertake a
 process of self-policing in their chosen risk activity(ies), making
 explicit choices about the technologies they employ and the
 practices in which they engage. Edgeworkers perceive them-
 selves as in control of their risk environments and hence
 150responsible for their own survival. Lyng further notes that part
 of this control is illusory—edgeworkers may perceive control
 in their ability to negotiate situations that may be driven far
 more by chance than by skill. However, pure gambles, activi-
 ties where skill does not come into play, tend to be of consider-
 155ably less interest to edgeworkers. Lyng states, ‘‘edgework is
 one of the few experiences in modern life where ‘success’ (sur-
 vival) can be unambiguously attributed to individual skill’’
 (1990: 873). While success may be unambiguous from the sky-
 diver’s point of view, the degree to which such a successful
 160jump is due to individual effort alone may be considerably
 more ambiguous once both the formal and informal methods
 of policing involved in skydiving activity are considered.
 We have briefly highlighted some of the important
 dimensions of the edgework model to which researchers
 165have attended. One aspect, we suggest, that has not been
 sufficiently explored is the extent to which edgeworkers
 encounter forms of social control as they endeavor to
 crowd the edge. Too little attention has been paid to the
 interactional setting within which edgework takes place—
 170the risk regime of a particular setting, or the particular
 patterning of behaviors within, in this case, the sport of
 skydiving. Several sociologists of sport have pointed out
 that particular understandings of risk are embedded in
 sporting institutions and relationships, and inform the kinds
 175of hazards to which athletes subject themselves (e.g., Albert
 2004; Donnelly 2004; Pike and Maguire 2003; Safai 2003;
 Young 1993). In many cases, this takes the form of various
 explicit and implicit pressures to take more risks than an
 athlete might otherwise do, something observers have
 180called ‘‘positive deviance’’ or the ‘‘sport ethic’’ (Hughes
 and Coakley 1991; Johns 1998). Regardless of the specific
 types of pressures applied, these studies make it clear that
 within sport, there are various policing agents at play. It
 seems to us an oversight, then, that this angle of edgework
 Policing the Edge 5
185activities has not received closer attention. Edgeworkers
 crowd the edge as individuals, but often their experiences
 are intimately interwoven with institutions and other indivi-
 duals, particularly fellow practitioners. It is with this dimen-
 sion of the edgework model that we concern ourselves in
 190this article.
 RESEARCH METHODS
 In generating data for this research, the first author engaged
 in ethnographic research, involving six months of participant
 observation (participant as observer) at various Western
 195Canadian locations as well as 37 in-depth interviews with
 current participants in the sport. At the time of the research,
 he was a full participant in the sport, involved in recreational
 jumping, coaching and instruction. Prior to the onset of field-
 work, he had been skydiving for approximately four years.
 200He spent the 1998 skydiving season participating in jumping
 and social activities at two drop zones. Because of weather,
 a season on the Canadian prairies generally lasts from April
 or May to October. This particular season, his first jump
 was in mid-April, and his last in early November. Most
 205weekends, and occasionally during the week, he spent time
 at one of the drop zones, or attending one of a number of
 skydiving events. During these months, he completed
 approximately 130 skydives and attended several get-
 togethers away from the drop zone. Long after having left
 210the sport, the first author revisited the field in July and August
 of 2004 to explore some of the ideas for this article and to
 check analytical ideas with participants. Fieldnotes were
 made after each of these encounters.
 Through the course of the initial participant observation
 215experiences and discussions with several experienced jum-
 pers, a sampling frame was constructed including a relevant
 range of experiences, characteristics, and examples. Inter-
 views were conducted with a range of participants, including
 both men and women; jumpers of low, intermediate, and
 220high experience; recreational, competitive, and semi-
 professional (involved in instruction) jumpers; as well as
 jumpers with and without experience of serious injury in
 the sport. Of the 37 interviewees, 20 were male, 17 were
 6 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
female.3 They ranged in age from 19 years to over 60 years.
 225At the time of the interviews, they had been involved in the
 sport anywhere from a few months to almost 30 years, with
 an average jumping ‘career’ spanning about 8.5 years. A
 couple of interviewees had fewer than 30 jumps, while a
 number had several thousand to their credit, with an average
 230across the sample of almost 1100 jumps and a sample
 median of 560 jumps. While the interviewees ranged from
 students to working professionals, all identified themselves
 as middle class. The interviews ranged between 45 and
 120 minutes, and averaged just short of 72 minutes. All
 235names reported in both fieldnote and interview excerpts
 are pseudonyms.
 We worked back and forth between observational and
 interview data, first coding in very general terms (codes like
 ‘‘edgework,’’ ‘‘human error’’ and ‘‘assessment of risk’’), and
 240then working within these broad areas to develop and refine
 analytical ideas (around themes like ‘‘edgework and control’’
 or ‘‘policing the edge,’’ for instance). As we developed these
 ideas, we checked them with two or three key informants for
 participant validation. As the analysis neared completion, we
 245shared these ideas with several jumpers, asking them to ver-
 ify, challenge, or suggest amendments to the analysis of risk
 and social control in skydiving. Finally, we invited and
 received feedback on a draft of this manuscript from several
 jumpers.
 250For the purposes of this article, the central limitation of this
 research is that we do not have data pertaining to former
 jumpers who may have left the sport as a result of some of
 the pressures we discuss. Without these data, we are limited
 to speculation in certain areas based on our analyses as well
 255as the interpretations of current jumpers. Before we turn to
 our results, a brief description of skydiving equipment and
 some common practices will help the reader interpret the
 findings and analyses.
 3A 2002 survey by the United States Parachute Association (U.S.P.A.) revealed that there
 were over 33,000 members of the association. The results of the survey highlight a gender
 imbalance in the sport, with women representing just over 15% of respondents. Unfortu-
 nately, the Canadian Sport Parachuting Association (C.S.P.A.) does not collect similarly
 comprehensive data. The editor of Canpara, the regular C.S.P.A. publication, informed us
 that, as of February of 2004, there were 400 female and 1872 male members of the of
 the C.S.P.A. (N. Ambrus, personal communication, June 10, 2004).
 Policing the Edge 7
THE PRACTICE OF SKYDIVING
 260Generally, skydiving takes place at a drop zone (DZ), which
 often consists of little more than a runway, some hangar
 space, perhaps another building or two, and an area in
 which skydivers land their parachutes. Smaller DZs normally
 draw primarily local jumpers, while larger ones often host
 265foreign teams and other groups who want to take advantage
 of state of the art facilities and aircraft fleet. In addition,
 many skydivers attend events called ‘‘boogies.’’ Boogies
 are special events hosted by one DZ to draw jumpers from
 surrounding DZs for jumping and partying (Laurendeau
 2702004). They range from the relatively small, which draw
 jumpers from only a few DZs, to large international boogies
 such as the World Freefall Convention, which draws thou-
 sands of skydivers every year.
 The central piece of skydiving equipment is a ‘‘rig,’’ which
 275is a container system containing two parachutes: a ‘‘main’’
 and a ‘‘reserve.’’ As the names imply, a main parachute is
 the one normally deployed and landed. A jumper may, how-
 ever, experience a ‘‘malfunction,’’ meaning that the main
 fails to properly inflate for some reason. In this case, one
 280may or may not jettison the main (depending on the type
 of malfunction), before deploying the reserve. Rigs may also
 be equipped with a device known as an ‘‘automatic acti-
 vation device’’ (AAD). The purpose of an AAD is to measure
 the altitude of a jumper as she or he falls, as well as her=his
 285rate of descent, and to automatically deploy the reserve para-
 chute if a jumper is too close to the ground and still falling
 too quickly. Skydiving regulations in most countries mandate
 that each student rig comes equipped with an AAD, and
 many experienced jumpers choose to equip their rigs with
 290them as well (for a more indepth discussion of AADs, see
 Laurendeau 2000).
 Jumping related activities dominate daylight hours at the
 DZ. Whether practicing a skydive on the ground prior to
 the jump (referred to as a ‘‘dirt-dive’’), packing one’s para-
 295chute, ‘‘manifesting’’ (registering) for a jump, or actually
 doing a skydive, jumpers spend much of the day occupied
 by activities directly related to jumping (Celsi et al. 1993).
 In general, there are two parts to each skydive. First, there
 is the freefall portion which, for most jumpers, is the
 8 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
300‘working’ part of the skydive.4 Depending on the altitude
 from which they jump, each jumper has a certain amount
 of time, usually between 30 and 60 seconds, to perform as
 many maneuvers as possible before the time comes to acti-
 vate their parachute. The second part of the skydive begins
 305once one has deployed one’s parachute. For many, it is a
 great deal of fun to ‘play’ with their parachutes high up in
 the air. Moreover, a number of jumpers enjoy testing the lim-
 its of their canopies closer to the ground. Modern high-tech
 canopies are very responsive, and can be flown at very high
 310speeds as well. Many jumpers enjoy generating high speeds
 by doing a maneuver commonly called a ‘‘hook turn,’’ or, less
 commonly, a ‘‘carve.’’5 This move involves initiating a turn
 just prior to landing so that the canopy dives towards the
 ground. As it planes out of this dive, the canopy realizes an
 315increase in ground speed. The parachutist ‘‘surfs’’ just inches
 above the ground for some time, and then uses the ‘‘brakes’’
 to ‘‘flare,’’ slowing the parachute for landing. If performed
 skillfully, a hook turn can result in a very spectacular
 approach, and a soft and safe landing. There is, however, a
 320relatively small margin for error with these maneuvers. In
 fact, many serious injuries and a number of deaths in sky-
 diving have resulted from improperly executed hook turns.6
 4As one jumper pointed out after reading a draft of an earlier paper, a third part of the
 skydive is important in understanding risk. The airplane ride to jump altitude is a significant
 worry for some jumpers. This is beyond the scope of this article, however.
 5The vast majority of jumpers who perform these maneuvers are men. This observation
 calls for a more comprehensive discussion of gender and edgework than we can provide
 here.
 6For example, jumpers sometimes sustain very high-speed collisions with the ground,
 obstacles such as fences or buildings, other jumpers, or bystanders on the ground. If one
 is ‘lucky,’ these incidents may result in injuries like fractures (in fact, the term ‘‘femur’’ is
 sometimes used as a verb by skydivers—‘‘that guy’s gonna’ femur if he doesn’t fix his hook
 turns’’). If not, these collisions may result in catastrophic injuries, sometimes to internal
 organs, other times to the head. Generally, it is understood that injuries are routinely
 under-reported, so nobody makes a concerted effort to track them. Canada has seen rela-
 tively few fatalities due to low hook turns, though one interviewee in this study later died
 as a result of injuries sustained after a poorly-executed hook turn. The fact is that these fatal-
 ities are not extremely common and Canada has a relatively small skydiving population and
 short jumping season. It is easier to see a broader pattern with data from the U.S., where far
 more skydives are made each year. Drawing on U.S. data, Hart and Griffith (2003) exam-
 ined skydiving fatalities between 1986 and 2001, and found a zero-order correlation of .82
 between year and number of landing fatalities, with at least nine such fatalities each year
 between 1996 and 2001.
 Policing the Edge 9
One important point to emphasize here is that jumpers’
 safety is a function of not only their own choices and actions,
 325but also the choices and actions of others. Whether in the air-
 craft, in freefall, or under canopy, jumpers share space with
 each other, and can potentially cause each other problems. If
 one jumper does something dangerous while climbing out of
 the aircraft, for instance, he or she could potentially damage
 330the airplane, endangering the lives of other jumpers as well
 as anyone else on board or on the ground below. More com-
 monly, one might do something reckless in freefall or under
 canopy that could endanger someone else in some way.
 Obviously, there is a certain degree of trust that one places
 335in other jumpers when skydiving. As we will see, this means
 that jumpers pay careful attention to the actions of other jum-
 pers. First, though, we will briefly discuss the ways in which
 actors who are external to skydiving attempt to police the
 activity.
 340POLICING FROM OUTSIDE OF SKYDIVING
 Social actors outside of the world of skydiving may attempt
 to police the edge of skydivers in particular ways. In general,
 these fall into two broad categories. In the first, government
 agents attempt to put constraints on the workings of para-
 345chuting operations, though they sometimes lack knowledge
 about the sport of skydiving. In the second, individual actors,
 who also tend to know little about the sport, send skydivers
 or potential skydivers messages that this activity is fraught
 with hazard, and that one should not engage in it. As we
 350shall argue, these attempts at policing tend to have much less
 impact on skydivers’ behaviors than do the internal forms of
 social control discussed later.
 Government Agents
 As noted on the U. S. P. A. website, ‘‘Rules established by the
 355Federal Aviation Administration address skydiving aircraft
 and crewmembers, and the FAA oversees parachute manu-
 facturing standards, parachute technicians (FAA riggers),
 and the packing of reserve parachutes. Otherwise, skydiving
 regulates itself’’ (U.S.P.A., n.d.). In other countries, the pic-
 360ture is similar. Government departments or organizations
 regulating airspace, such as Transport Canada, oversee
 10 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
skydiving mostly at the level of aircraft operation and certain
 limited types of certifications. As for the behaviors of skydi-
 vers in day-to-day jumping activities, this is left up to skydiv-
 365ing associations to monitor, a topic discussed in greater
 detail later.
 Another way in which government agents attempt to
 police the edge in skydiving is in the case of an investigation
 and public inquiry into a skydiving fatality. While these kinds
 370of proceedings are relatively rare, they garner much public
 attention. For instance, there have been at least two major
 fatality inquiries into skydiving deaths in Western Canada
 in the past several years. Both were, at times, front-page
 news in the local papers, and were certainly hot topics of
 375conversation amongst jumpers in the region. The reality,
 however, is that in the absence of criminal charges against
 someone, which are exceedingly rare,7 this kind of policing
 has little direct effect on skydiving operations. Because sky-
 diving is basically self-regulated, the only direct effect that
 380such an inquiry might have is in influencing a government
 body like the FAA or Transport Canada. In this case, these
 bodies might institute tighter regulation of certain aspects
 of skydiving operations. Formal regulation, however, is con-
 sidered anathema to edgeworkers, as regulation is believed
 385to be the purview of participants alone. When a fatality
 inquiry is underway, skydivers express worry that it will
 result in heavier regulation of the sport.
 There is one notable exception to this pattern. Particular
 skydivers may be deeply affected by the process of a public
 390inquiry if they are required to take part in the inquiry itself.
 Often, that is because they were a witness to the incident
 and=or played an important role in maintaining safety proce-
 dures at the DZ in question. Only one interviewee had been
 involved in such proceedings, and he recounts the impact of
 395these events:
 I’ve had to go to court a bunch of times . . . as an expert wit-
 ness to give testimony and, on equipment and procedures,
 and why I think it happened. I’ve had to go to the morgue
 7For example, skydiving contacts informed us that charges of criminal negligence caus-
 ing death were laid against a DZO in the case of a tandem fatality in Western Canada in the
 late 1990s.
 Policing the Edge 11
twice and physically cut the gear off a corpse and try and
 400work out what was wrong with the equipment and what
 caused the fatality. Fuck man, that, oh, that hits you. And
 standing up in court, and being asked by a judge, and there’s
 people crying all around about, and you’re at a fatality
 inquiry—‘‘why did this person die?’’ ‘‘Are you the senior
 405instructor on this drop zone?’’ ‘‘Are you responsible for safety
 at this drop zone?’’ ‘‘Yes, yes, yes.’’ ‘‘Why did he die?’’
 ‘‘Because of this, this, and this.’’ ‘‘Is there anything you could
 have done personally to prevent this?’’ ‘‘No.’’ ‘‘Is that your
 opinion?’’ ‘‘Yes.’’ ‘‘Prove it.’’ Boy, you wanna’ make sure
 410you’re qualified to say what you say, and have the confidence
 in yourself to mean it. . . But boy, oh boy, I sure grew up in a
 hurry when I had to stand up in a courtroom for the first
 time . . . Boy, was I a safer skydiver after that. (Michael)
 This jumper points to the change in his own edgework
 415practices after going through the experience. His words high-
 light that it was not the fact of the inquiry itself that prompted
 this reflection; rather, it was the difficulty of the process for
 him personally, and how it forced him to look carefully at
 his understanding of the hazards of the sport. For those
 420who have not had to go through such an experience, a pri-
 mary impact an inquiry has is in terms of generating negative
 publicity for the sport. Jumpers certainly wish this was not
 the case, and cite it as a reason for what they call people’s
 misperceptions about the sport. It appears not, however, to
 425have a significant bearing on their skydiving behaviors.
 ‘Other’ Actors
 In the interviews, skydivers point to the ubiquitous ‘outside’
 opinion that skydiving is inherently dangerous. In almost
 every interview, jumpers suggested that they have repeatedly
 430heard some variation of ‘‘why would you jump out of a per-
 fectly good airplane?’’ during their jumping careers. Interest-
 ingly, very few people mentioned important others as
 sources of this type of policing. Instead, jumpers suggested
 that they hear this line of argument from ‘‘the general pub-
 435lic’’—acquaintances who happen to find out that they are
 skydivers. Only two of the interviewees, in fact, mentioned
 people reasonably close to them as sources of this opinion.
 12 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
Damian, for instance, suggested that his parents ‘‘really don’t
 understand it, they . . . think it borders on the suicidal.’’ He
 440does not ‘‘think they understand, or they can’t appreciate
 an adrenaline rush. It’s too out there for ’em, it’s too, I guess
 too dangerous, or so it’s perceived.’’ Sophia, meanwhile,
 described an encounter with a former boss: ‘‘he came into
 my office and said ‘You have just got to take up another
 445sport. We just can’t live with wondering whether you’re
 going to come back to work after the weekend or not.’
 And I just laughed, because his perception is just not the
 way it is. If I thought I was gonna’ die, I wouldn’t go and
 do it.’’ For Sophia, a very experienced jumper, these com-
 450ments are easy to dismiss because they are based, in her
 view, on inaccurate perceptions. She feels she understands
 the edge well enough to have a more accurate understanding
 of the risks of the sport.
 It seems reasonable to suggest that family and close associ-
 455ates are motivated to comment on skydivers’ activities out of
 concern for their (skydivers’) well being. As the previous
 excerpt illustrates, however, most experienced jumpers eas-
 ily dismiss this kind of policing behavior, arguing that non-
 jumpers simply do not understand the parameters of the
 460sport, and therefore are in no position to judge whether it
 is hazardous or not. Remarks like ‘‘why would you jump
 out of a perfectly good airplane’’ often fall on deaf ears,
 we suggest, because they tend not to speak to the experi-
 ences of veteran jumpers. Neophytes, for whom the simple
 465act of exiting the airplane constitutes edgework, may be
 more affected by comments like this. Most experienced jum-
 pers, however, have wandered farther out on the edge, so
 this kind of question misses the mark. If someone were to
 ask a jumper with 500 jumps whether he executes high-per-
 470formance landings, leaves himself ‘‘outs’’ on his landing pat-
 tern, and so on, this may be cause for more introspection.
 Jumpers occupy different areas of the edge, depending on
 their expertise and experience, a point lost on most non-
 practitioners. It is for this reason, we suggest, that fellow jum-
 475pers have more influence as sources of policing behaviour, a
 point we elaborate below.
 Only one interviewee mentioned a non-jumper attempting
 to influence how she engaged in edgework as opposed to
 whether or not she did it at all. Anna described the scenario
 Policing the Edge 13
480when she had the opportunity to buy an AAD, but felt she
 couldn’t afford it:
 and [my] dad said ‘‘are you gonna buy it?’’ And I said ‘‘well, I
 don’t have the money right now,’’ and he goes ‘‘I’ll tell you
 what, . . . I’ll lend you the money. It makes me feel better.’’ I
 485said ‘‘whatever . . . it’s mechanical, . . . it’s not gonna’ over-
 ride my brain, . . . it will if my brain’s not functioning.’’ I said,
 ‘‘It’s a backup. I’m not gonna’ trust it.’’
 In this case, this policing behavior influenced how Anna
 engaged in edgework, but only insofar as she employed an
 490extra piece of safety equipment. She still felt that her father
 did not understand the parameters of the sport, and agreed
 to the arrangement largely to placate him. It is quite likely
 that jumpers are subject to policing behavior from family,
 co-workers, etc., more frequently than is reflected in our
 495interview data, if the first author’s experience is any indi-
 cation. Jumpers encounter these opinions so frequently,
 however, and dismiss them so easily, that they likely do
 not consider them an important source of control.8
 Jumpers who are romantically involved with non-jumpers
 500experience a different kind of pressure.9 Often, when a
 jumper becomes involved with a ‘‘whuffo’’ (a slightly deroga-
 tory term skydivers use to describe non-jumpers), a power
 play of sorts ensues, with the new partner insisting the jumper
 spend less time at the DZ and more at home. In fact, jumpers
 505often express some concern when another skydiver becomes
 romantically involved with a non-jumper, worrying that this
 jumper might withdraw from the sport as a result. After read-
 ing a draft of this article, one jumper referred to the strain
 between jumping and non-jumping spouses as ‘‘Skydiving
 510Induced Divorce Syndrome.’’ He remarked that since his
 marriage, numerous people have expressed to his wife their
 surprise that she ‘lets’ him continue to jump, and does so her-
 self. He suggested: ‘‘It seems that it’s a widely held belief that
 8Our data suggest that one form of this ‘external’ policing may be more difficult to dis-
 miss. Several women (and some men) noted that there is some pressure for women not to
 take up or stay involved in skydiving, particularly when they become mothers. This is
 clearly tied to broader ideas of femininity and motherhood, and, like the subject of high-
 performance landings, is deserving of a detailed investigation of gender and edgework.
 9Because there are many more men than women in the sport, it is more often men who
 end up in romantic relationships with non-jumpers.
 14 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
only single people (people who don’t have anything to live
 515for?) do these sorts of things’’ (Doug, email communication,
 March 2005). In this case, both partners are skydivers, so this
 has not been an issue. The kinds of comments friends and
 acquaintances have made to Doug’s wife, however, point
 to the kinds of struggles that sometimes ensue in the case of
 520unions between jumpers and non-jumpers.
 Generally, the pressures outlined above seem not to be a
 major deterrent for the skydivers in our sample. There is
 likely, however, an element of selection bias at work here.
 There may be a number of skydivers (or potential skydivers)
 525who back away prior to crowding this edge in the same way
 that more veteran skydivers tend to.
 SKYDIVERS: POLICING OTHERS’ EDGE
 Institutional Policing
 At a policy level, national associations and DZOs police the
 530ways skydivers engage in edgework. They permit or prohibit
 particular behaviors, though the degree to which these con-
 straints are enforced may vary from place to place. National
 associations, such as the U.S.P.A. and the Canadian Sport
 Parachuting Association (C.S.P.A.), set out safety guidelines
 535that limit skydiving behaviors, in theory at least. In the U.S.
 and Canada, these are called Basic Safety Requirements
 (BSRs). BSRs outline such things as minimum competencies
 for progression and participation in particular kinds of skyd-
 ives, maximum winds for jumping, and minimum distances
 540from hazards for landing areas (U.S.P.A., 2005). These
 requirements are not considered as law in skydiving, but
 rather as a basic minimum set of guidelines for safe practice.
 Moreover, the policing of these BSRs takes place, by and
 large, at the DZ level. Only in extreme cases does an associ-
 545ation get involved in an official capacity in sanctioning indi-
 vidual skydivers who have contravened one or more BSR.
 Clearly, these guidelines help to shape the edge for skydivers
 in particular ways.
 At the DZ level, the DZO and=or the Drop Zone Safety
 550Officer (DZSO) monitor skydivers’ behaviors and intervene
 as needed. The first sense in which this is done is through set-
 ting particular guidelines for or restrictions on skydiving
 Policing the Edge 15
behaviors. At a small number of DZs, AADs are mandatory
 not only for students, but also for experienced jumpers. This
 555is the DZO’s prerogative, and other jumpers generally
 respect this position. Some jumpers feel as though these
 are unnecessary measures, and inhibit their freedom of
 choice with respect to riding the edge. While almost every
 interviewee expressed opposition to the idea of AADs being
 560mandatory at the association level, several noted that they
 understood it at the DZ level. After all, it is the DZO who
 is on the line in terms of liability should ‘an incident’ occur.
 Other DZ policies have to do with particular behaviors. For
 instance, at many DZs, the edge of the landing area is called
 565the ‘‘beer line,’’ as any jumper landing too close to the pack-
 ing area is in violation of DZ safety procedures, and must
 buy a case of beer for the DZ as a penalty. While the location
 of this boundary is set by association BSRs, its enforcement is
 the purview of DZOs and DZSOs.
 570On some occasions, a BSR is not the issue. As high-
 performance landings have become more prevalent, for
 instance, DZOs and DZSOs have, to some extent, taken on
 the role of policing this behavior when it is done poorly. Gen-
 erally, this involves observing skydivers’ landing approaches,
 575and offering suggestions where appropriate. Most often, it
 is a case of a relatively inexperienced jumper who is in the
 process of learning how to do high-performance landings
 safely:
 Today, Steve, who has about 300 jumps, performed a high-
 580speed downwind landing along the beer line. The drop zone
 owner walked out and met him, and explained to him that his
 hook turn was poorly performed, and that he risks seriously
 injuring himself or others if he continues to fly his canopy this
 way. (August 1998)
 585Though Steve had not broken a formal policy, he had
 initiated his hook turn too low, leaving himself virtually no
 margin for error. The kind of policing to which he was
 subject is analogous to a verbal warning that a police
 officer might issue for a minor speeding offence. Just as a
 590driver can’t drive at the speed he or she might prefer, neither
 can this kind of edgework be performed as a participant
 might like. If the jumper in question does not correct the
 16 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
problematic behavior, this policing may progress to more
 concrete sanctions, including possibly ‘‘grounding’’ this
 595person for a length of time.
 Other Skydivers
 The most pervasive form of policing the edge in skydiving is
 when jumpers monitor the edgework of other jumpers. Sky-
 divers expect each other to make smart choices and to han-
 600dle themselves well under pressure. Chris, for instance, said
 ‘‘I truly believe that some people react better in bad situa-
 tions than others. . . There’s definitely some people that
 shouldn’t be in this sport. The line I heard is ‘if at first you
 don’t succeed, don’t take up skydiving.’ That’s probably truer
 605than you’d think.’’ This is not, however, an idle expectation.
 Jumpers pay attention to who is doing what in the sport,
 often subtly police the edgework of others, and sometimes
 explicitly express concern to others about the behaviors.
 When someone exhibits a serious lack of awareness or abil-
 610ity, or lacks confidence in their own abilities, other jumpers
 take notice. In extreme cases, others may even intervene
 when they perceive that someone is a danger to her=himself
 imself or to others.
 One relatively common way that experienced skydivers
 615police the edge is in the way they pass on knowledge to less
 experienced jumpers. Many skydivers who have been
 around for a while consider it the responsibility of senior
 jumpers to keep an eye on junior jumpers and step in if they
 see or hear something that is cause for concern. Tim, for
 620instance, a very experienced skydiver, recounted the story
 of Christine, a relatively inexperienced jumper who ‘‘went
 in’’ (jumpers refer to dying as a result of skydiving as ‘‘going
 in’’ ) some time before the interview. He was upset that
 another experienced jumper had not stepped in when Chris-
 625tine said something the night before her death that indicated
 that she did not respect the potential hazards of the sport:
 When Christine, the night before she died, can sit around the
 campfire saying ‘‘oh, I’m never going to have a reserve ride,
 never going to get myself in that situation,’’ that’s something
 630that some senior jumper should have been taking her aside
 and slapped her upside the head.
 Policing the Edge 17
While other jumpers may not have taken the direct
 approach Tim advocates, many would have taken this as
 an opportunity to explain to a junior jumper that one must
 635always be prepared for something to go awry so that one is
 equipped to deal with it. This can be seen as an admission
 by senior skydivers that there is a degree of chance involved
 in skydiving—but that senior skydivers are far more aware of
 how to capitalize on both skill and common-sense as a
 640means of reducing chance and gaining control.
 Senior jumpers on the drop zone, and particularly coaches
 and instructors, are especially diligent about policing the
 edge in the case of novice skydivers. They monitor jumpers’
 progression not only in terms of skill development, but also
 645with respect to their abilities to maintain control in the face
 of chaos. Minor transgressions may be cause for repeats of
 particular skydives prior to being progressed to the next
 level. Serious mistakes, however, may be subject to more
 serious sanctions. During the first author’s time in the field,
 650an illustrative situation arose with a particular student. This
 student exhibited excellent body position and technique
 over the course of his first several jumps, but when he experi-
 enced a relatively minor problem on his seventh jump, he
 failed to make any attempt to activate his main or reserve
 655parachute. His AAD fired to activate his reserve, saving his
 life. Several instructors, including the author, consulted on
 the matter, and concluded that they would not allow this stu-
 dent to continue to jump at this DZ. He had exhibited a criti-
 cal lack of awareness and action. No matter what happens in
 660a skydive, they agreed, you have to make an attempt to acti-
 vate a parachute. Anyone who does not make that attempt is
 simply not cut out for this sport. In other words, they are not
 able to perform this type of edgework: they do not have the
 ‘‘right stuff.’’
 665The most pervasive way that skydivers police the edge is
 through regular observation of other jumpers’ behavior. They
 pay attention to what kind of gear others are jumping, the
 kinds of skydives they are doing, and how skilled they are
 at handling themselves in freefall and under canopy. One
 670lengthy fieldnote excerpt illustrates this phenomenon parti-
 cularly well. It is taken from the author’s return to the field
 following a lengthy layoff from the sport:
 18 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
There was an interesting contradiction today. On the one
 hand, jumpers I haven’t seen in a while were very keen to
 675see me ‘‘in the air’’ again — so much so, in fact, that I had
 numerous people offer to lend me various pieces of equip-
 ment, as I no longer have my own. On the other, a number
 of people watched me quite closely. In a sense, it was like
 being a student again. Not having jumped for over four years,
 680I am considered very ‘‘uncurrent.’’ As a result, a number of
 people took a keen interest in what kinds of jumps I was
 doing, and with what equipment. Andrew, for example, hav-
 ing achieved his goal to get me to do a skydive, insisted that I
 do a coach jump of sorts with him so that he could verify that
 685I could ‘‘handle myself’’ in freefall and under canopy. He
 went to some length to see that I remembered my emergency
 procedures and was familiar with the landing area, despite
 my having jumped at this drop zone several times in the past.
 After insisting I open (deploy my parachute) at a high altitude
 690on this first jump, he basically ‘let’ me do whatever I wanted.
 Several others, meanwhile, were very interested in the gear I
 was using, with some suggesting that perhaps I should be
 flying a bigger canopy at first since I was ‘‘rusty.’’ Once
 Andrew was satisfied that my skills hadn’t stagnated too
 695much, however, he became my co-conspirator in the sense
 that he loaned me his rig with a Stiletto 120 main, a very
 high-performance parachute considering my layoff from the
 sport. He even made it a point of keeping this information
 from his partner, as he knew that she wouldn’t approve.
 700This excerpt illustrates two important issues with respect to
 jumpers policing the edgework activities of others. First,
 other jumpers, while they had an interest in seeing the author
 jump again, also recognized that his skills at negotiating the
 edges of freefall and canopy flight had undoubtedly eroded
 705in his time away from the sport. They tactfully reminded
 him of this and ensured that he did not attempt to go further
 out on the edge than he was capable of handling. Second,
 the fact that several jumpers, most notably Andrew, relaxed
 this policing behavior after seeing evidence of the author’s
 710ability to maintain control on the edge, illustrates that this
 phenomenon is tailored to particular jumpers and situations.
 All else being equal, a jumper with a history of poor perform-
 ance on the edge is much more likely to be subject to this
 Policing the Edge 19
kind of social control than someone who has previously
 715demonstrated the ability to effectively negotiate the bound-
 ary between chaos and order.
 High-Performance Landings
 Until relatively recently, a major portion of skydiving fatal-
 ities were the result of someone, for one reason or another,
 720failing to activate a parachute in time for it to inflate (Sitter
 2003:30).10 In recent years, with improvements in equip-
 ment technologies and increased use of AADs, the numbers
 of such fatalities has decreased dramatically. During the
 same period, however, serious injuries and deaths from what
 725many jumpers call ‘‘pilot error’’ have drastically increased
 (Hart and Griffith 2003). Prior to the early 1990 s, fatalities
 due to landing problems were very rare, usually resulting
 from an attempt to avoid an obstacle in the landing area
 (Sitter 2003:33). Largely due to the development and popu-
 730larity of high-performance parachutes, this category now
 regularly accounts for a larger proportion of yearly skydiving
 deaths than any other single category (IPC 2003; Sitter
 2003).11 In light of this trend, the policing of high-perform-
 ance canopy flight is perhaps the most conspicuous form
 735of social control in the skydiving realm.
 The most striking way in which jumpers police the edge is
 with respect to the kinds of parachutes jumpers fly, and the
 ways they do so. Jumpers express some ambivalence about
 the place of ever smaller and faster canopies in the sport.
 740Because these high-performance canopies are so unforgiving
 of mistakes, manufacturers recommend that potential buyers
 have a certain amount of canopy-flying experience before
 purchasing such an item. Depending on the specific canopy,
 manufacturers may recommend having over a thousand
 745jumps before flying their product. Manufacturers are cogni-
 zant that high-performance canopies make the edge more
 difficult to negotiate by requiring greater amounts of skill
 10Parachutist is an internationally distributed publication of the U.S.P.A., and is widely
 considered one of the leading skydiving publications. This article draws on American data.
 The trends described, however, may be generalized to other countries.
 11The other categories are equipment malfunctions, collisions, no pull=low pull, reserve
 parachute problems, and other. The ‘‘other’’ category captures those fatalities which are not
 attributable to a specific category.
 20 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
and experience than lower-performance canopies. Not only
 do jumpers take this into account when making their own
 750risk management choices, but they scrutinize the choices
 other jumpers make about the edge.
 Jumpers generally know what kind of canopy others fly,
 and the perception among some is that ‘‘smaller is cooler.’’
 After a certain point, however, the ‘‘coolness’’ of having a
 755small canopy is debatable. If one is perceived as too inex-
 perienced or unskilled for a particular canopy, or if the can-
 opy is so far on the leading edge of technology as to be
 unfamiliar to jumpers, experienced jumpers take note, and
 experience a sense of anxiety. Although some who fly smal-
 760ler canopies may perceive themselves as inherently capable,
 others may view this choice as evidence of either over-con-
 fidence or stupidity. If someone with 200 jumps shows up
 with a Stiletto, or anyone shows up with a 69 square foot
 Icarus Extreme (one of the smallest and fastest parachutes
 765on the market), people notice, but the message ‘‘what a cool
 canopy’’ is accompanied by ‘‘what are you doing jumping
 that thing?’’ Sophia, with over 1000 skydives, points out that
 for some people, these high-performance canopies are very
 appealing. She notes, however, some of the worries she
 770has as these parachutes become increasingly prevalent:
 [High-performance canopies have changed the sport] posi-
 tively in the performance for people who like to fly their
 canopies, . . . but negatively in that the forward speeds have
 just increased so much that it’s making it, it’s causing a lot
 775more accidents on opening and on landing than have ever
 happened before, that I know of, in the history of skydiving.
 It used to be that opening collisions were just about unheard
 of. And landing, I mean, how could you hurt yourself with a
 big parachute? Unless you broke your ankle from a round
 780[parachute], you know, it was pretty tough to hurt yourself.
 Those canopies, the canopies were very forgiving. But now,
 people can kill themselves because of the high performance
 of the wing over their head.
 Sophia and others express concern about the shift that they
 785perceive in the ways edgework is being done since the
 advent of high-performance parachutes. Jumping out of an
 airplane, with all the attendant risks of freefall, is one kind
 Policing the Edge 21
of edgework with which all jumpers are familiar. The edge of
 high-speed canopy flight, however, is a relatively new one,
 790and there is a wide range of ways to fly one’s parachute.
 While this represents a certain degree of freedom, this free-
 dom is tempered by uncertainty.
 Skydivers are well aware that, in order to manage these
 canopies, one must have a tremendous amount of experi-
 795ence and skill with a parachute. Even when this is the case,
 however, jumpers worry when they feel that someone is not
 doing all they should in order to successfully negotiate the
 edge. Anna, for instance, mentioned one jumper in particular
 about whom she and others worry:
 800Nick scares me. . . . I’m just waitin’ for the day that he
 becomes a statistic. Because he’s getting smaller and smaller
 canopies, and he’s doing a lot more radical things with them.
 And it’s starting to worry me. Nick is a very experienced sky-
 diver, he’s got very good canopy control, great pilot. The only
 805problem is now is Nick isn’t jumping as much as he used to.
 He’s maybe out at the drop zone once a month now. . . I’m
 just waiting for him, because he’s not flying the canopy as
 much as he used to, there’s such a small margin of error for
 him right now. And, because he’s not as current, it’s gonna’
 810happen. The ground’s gonna’ jump up and bite him.
 Anna (and others) took note when this jumper started
 doing fewer skydives, and speculated that his ability to nego-
 tiate the edge of canopy flight might be compromised as a
 result.
 815In the case of jumpers who have shown particularly poor
 judgment, others will occasionally intervene in an effort to
 correct particular behaviors they see as detrimental to effec-
 tive edgework:
 I can remember yelling at Evan the one time he came in and
 820bounced across the ground about three times . . . You know,
 ‘‘are you OK?’’ ‘‘Yeah.’’ ‘‘You stupid son of a bitch! How
 many times are we gonna’ have to tell you? You can’t be
 doing those bloody hook turns!’’ Because he’s one of these
 guys that, he’s never gonna’ learn, he’s always got to be
 825pushing . . . (Chris)
 The problem Chris had with Evan is not that Evan per-
 formed high-speed landing maneuvers, but that he failed to
 22 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
maintain control while doing so. In the opinion of Chris and
 several other experienced jumpers, Evan consistently
 830attempted landings that were too high-performance for his
 experience and expertise. Evan’s behaviour was redefined
 by his peers as falling outside the realm of edgework and,
 rather, within the realm of recklessness. The balance
 between control and chaos appeared to Evan’s peers as
 835weighted far too heavily on the side of chaos for their
 comfort—despite Evan’s own apparent comfort with his
 performance.
 In addition to suggesting that they engage in policing
 behaviors themselves, some experienced jumpers explicitly
 840acknowledged that they are aware of and respond to the
 policing behaviors of others. Jack made this point the most
 clearly when he said:
 If no-one’s telling you you’re out of control then more than
 likely, you’re not. If your closest friends are telling you you’re
 845out of control, then more than likely, you are. I mean, I know,
 for me, I’ve had on one or two occasions about specific items,
 I’ve had my friends tell me things that have caused me to
 reflect. I do know that one of them was after one of my other
 friends hook-turned into the ground. Well, everyone was after
 850me to back off my hook turns. . .
 Not everyone responds in the way Jack describes here. In
 fact, the jumpers who cause the greatest worry for other sky-
 divers are those who do not heed the advice or warnings of
 other jumpers. As skydivers crowd the edge, they are bound
 855to find themselves in situations where they are at risk of los-
 ing control—of falling off the edge, as it were. Practitioners
 who do not respond well when other jumpers point this
 out to them, are those other jumpers refer to when they call
 someone a ‘‘fatality waiting to happen’’ (Tim). Clearly, edge-
 860work is a negotiation by individual actors, in particular in
 terms of their own assessments of their skill levels, but it is
 also a negotiation among those who participate in the same
 types of activities.
 It is not only those jumpers who regularly perform hook
 865turns themselves who notice other people’s hook turn tech-
 nique. Senior jumpers who understand the nuances of
 high-performance landings feel they also are in position to
 observe and comment on the edgework of others. In fact, it
 Policing the Edge 23
is common to see activity on the drop zone slow somewhat
 870as a load of jumpers approaches the landing area. Jumpers
 on the ground watch as those in the air set up their landings,
 and often critique the performance of those coming in to
 land. This kind of scenario is described in the following field-
 note excerpt:
 875I was hanging out in an area with a number of fairly highly
 experienced jumpers, few of whom fly their canopies aggres-
 sively. At the end of the day, on the last load, the last person
 to approach the landing area initiated a very aggressive man-
 euver for landing (a 270 hook turn). As soon as he started it,
 880several people in the area made comments like ‘‘don’t screw
 up the whole boogie with a stupid move!’’ Once it became
 obvious that he had performed a successful hook turn, people
 relaxed, saying things like ‘‘Oh — someone who knows what
 he’s doing. We won’t applaud that, but we’ll say it’s really
 885cool.’’ (July 2004)
 This excerpt illustrates a number of interesting things about
 the policing of canopy flight. First, it highlights the draw of
 high-performance canopy flight for many jumpers, even for
 those who choose not to engage in such practices. High-
 890performance canopy flight is generally agreed to be one of
 the best examples of edgework as controlled chaos within
 skydiving. Second, it illustrates that jumpers monitor the
 ways other jumpers negotiate the edge. Third, it points to
 the notion that what concerns jumpers engaging in this
 895monitoring behavior is not the fact that some jumpers push
 the edge in extreme ways, but that they do so without the
 requisite awareness and skill.
 These observers were extremely concerned when this
 jumper initiated the maneuver because they did not know
 900who he was (‘can he handle this?’), and recognized that he
 had left himself a miniscule margin for error. When it
 became obvious, however, that he had successfully executed
 the move, they not only relaxed, but became quietly appreci-
 ative of his skill. Even their choice not to applaud the man-
 905euver was a way of policing the edge. They did not want
 to encourage other jumpers without as much skill and
 experience to attempt the same maneuver. This suggests an
 implicit understanding that most jumpers cannot successfully
 24 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
negotiate the boundary between chaos and order at this
 910point on the edge.
 DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSIONS
 In this article, we have suggested that one dimension of the
 edgework model that has thus far received too little attention
 is the interactional setting within which edgework is under-
 915taken. To date, little research has focused explicitly on the
 institutional and interactional forms of social control edge-
 workers encounter as they explore the boundary between
 form and formlessness. It is important not only to theorize
 institutional explanations for how people come to engage
 920in edgework, but to explore the institutional settings within
 which they negotiate their chosen forms of edgework.
 Researchers have documented that a sense of control is
 central to the edgework process. We suggest, though, that
 the centrality of control extends beyond individual practice
 925in this social arena, as outsiders and experienced practitioners
 exert sometimes subtle and sometimes conspicuous forms of
 social control constraining skydivers’ activities. Government
 agents place formal limits on skydiving operations, regulating
 certain elements of the day-to-day operations of a DZ. Non-
 930jumpers, meanwhile, may subtly encourage jumpers to back
 away from this particular form of edgework, though this
 generally falls on deaf ears in the case of jumpers already
 immersed in the sport. Jumpers seem to put very little weight
 in any attempts at social control by those who are not familiar
 935with the sport, although they appear, for the most part, unable
 to avoid these attempts at control by outsiders. They have little
 if any direct contact with government agents, and dismiss the
 opinions of non-practitioners out of hand, suggesting that they
 do not know what they are talking about. It may be that this
 940dismissal is one more way of asserting control in their edge-
 work environment. The position that only those who under-
 stand the edge are in any position to make observations
 about it necessarily grants them special status, and constrains
 the ability of ‘outsiders’ to exert any control over their skydiv-
 945ing activities. One exception to this pattern of dismissal is the
 power-play that may result when a non-jumper becomes
 romantically involved with a jumper. National associations
 and DZOs, for their part, place limits on skydiving activities
 Policing the Edge 25
in terms of the policies they put in place. This institutional
 950form of social control is an important one, as DZOs and
 DZSOs have the authority to sanction skydivers for contraven-
 tions of DZ policy, including such measures as preventing
 skydivers from manifesting for a jump.
 Our analysis reveals that the most pervasive—and in many
 955ways the most meaningful—form of social control comes
 from fellow edgeworkers who engage in policing behaviors
 when one does not effectively manage oneself on the edge.
 Jumpers monitor each other’s edgework with respect to
 equipment choices and the kinds of skydiving behaviors in
 960which jumpers engage, and occasionally intervene to point
 out the ways in which one might negotiate the edge more
 effectively. This is particularly pronounced, we suggest, in
 an historical period in which there is a trend towards skydi-
 vers being seriously injured or killed not because of an
 965equipment malfunction of some kind, but because of a poor
 decision while negotiating the edge of canopy flight. In this
 context, jumpers are decidedly aware of the equipment
 choices and behaviors of other jumpers, especially with
 respect to canopy flight. If a particular jumper seems in danger
 970of losing control on the edge, this awareness escalates to gen-
 tle intervention, and continues to escalate so long as the jum-
 per in question continues to exercise what others perceive as
 poor judgment. Beyond its effect on the jumper whose beha-
 vior is under the microscope, this environment of monitoring
 975filters through to other jumpers. As Jack pointed out when he
 suggested that he is probably fine if his best friends are not tell-
 ing him that he is out of control, one cannot help but be aware
 that one’s behaviors are subject to monitoring. This does not
 mean, of course, that all jumpers tow the line in light of this
 980social control. As one would expect, some jumpers learn their
 lesson, as it were, while others insist that they are in control
 irrespective of what others think. If, as some theorists of edge-
 work suggest, individuals are drawn to voluntary risk activities
 in order to exercise freedom and creativity, it should come as
 985no surprise that some practitioners are resistant to attempts at
 social control.
 Our analysis suggests that skydivers employ somewhat
 ‘black and white’ interpretations of their own and others’
 skydiving abilities: You either have what it takes or you
 990don’t, you are in control or you aren’t. They recognize that
 26 J. Laurendeau and E. G. V. Brunschot
the edge exists at a different location for each practitioner,
 but quickly sanction those who wander off their edge (wher-
 ever it may be for them) towards total chaos. The strength of
 this distinction between control and chaos, however, flies in
 995the face of the negotiated nature and experience of edge-
 work. Determining the exact edge is, for each individual, a
 matter of negotiation. Control is not simply a product of skill
 and experience, nor is chaos necessarily a product of lack of
 skill and inexperience. Edgework involves far more negoti-
 1000ation among participants and is less self-determined than
 these black and white descriptions suggest. Rather than
 singularly exploring the limits of one’s ability, the limits of
 control and chaos are the result of negotiation by many.
 Recall that Evan, who appeared confident in his abilities,
 1005was told in no uncertain terms that he was not performing
 at the appropriate skill level. The interactional setting
 appears, in many cases, to name both chaos and control
 and to define the edge for participants. Far from edgework
 being a solitary pursuit, our findings suggest that one’s edge
 1010is a process of negotiation. Each individual must negotiate
 between his or her own set of skills, experience and desires
 with particular tasks he or she sets out to perform; negoti-
 ation occurs both directly and indirectly with skydiving
 peers, with much less negotiation with outsiders. The edge
 1015that one figuratively ‘works’ in edgework, in skydiving at
 least, is very much a social enterprise.
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 Policing the Edge 29