Here's an experiment. Ask your neighbor what the police are supposed to do. It's a question likely to yield straightforward answers like "prevent and solve crimes" and "safeguard people and property." But here's an answer you're increasingly likely to hear, if you visit some of our country's most disadvantaged, high-crime neighborhoods: "The police should stay out of the way."
Across the nation, various programs are encouraging residents to solve problems on their own. These efforts vary in their approach: Some employ gang members to police other gang members; others use mediators to solve problems before they get out of hand. The common thread in all such efforts is the idea that if the cops can't deal with crime, the people should do it themselves.
As you might imagine, the law enforcement community has not laid out the welcome mat.
The most successful initiative (or the most potentially dangerous one, depending on your perspective) is Chicago's CeaseFire program, which has now branched out across the country. So-called "violence interrupters" keep their eyes peeled for potential conflicts, then intervene immediately so that disputes don't turn into gunfights. The police are rarely involved, as the "interrupters" earn some of their credibility from the fact that they work outside the law. They are often gang members with deep ties to the local underworld.
An evaluation of Chicago's CeaseFire program — no other city has been studied independently — found reductions in violent crime of 16 to 34 percent in communities where interrupters worked. Although no one can say for certain that CeaseFire was chiefly responsible, the drops are hard to dismiss in a city where four out of every five murders are caused by gunfire. In fact, the study was provocative enough to get the organization and its founder, Gary Slutkin, on the national map — and on the big screen, where its exploits were chronicled in the documentary "The Interrupters," a Sundance Film Festival darling this year.
CeaseFire's approach may sound radical, but it is, in fact, neither unique nor novel. In 1973, the Guardian Angels donned their red berets and white shirts to patrol big-city subways and alleys. They, too, found would-be perpetrators and mediated disputes. And well before that, many African-American communities supplanted ineffective and abusive law enforcement with unofficial mediation.
Today there are dozens of these programs across the country, and the organizers usually don't draw attention to themselves. CeaseFire, though, seeks out the media spotlight, and its charismatic founder has become something of an evangelist. While community-based groups welcome him, law enforcement officials are resistant. In Minneapolis, for example, the local CeaseFire experiment couldn't get off the ground; local police felt it would replicate past social service efforts that channeled money to gang members with little lasting gain.
Another program called Ceasefire, which is unrelated to Slutkin's organization, has sought to avoid the vigilante justice label. Ceasefire began in Boston, and has spread to numerous American cities, largely due to relationships its founder David Kennedy has cultivated with police chiefs. He begins his work by hosting meetings between chiefs and local offenders. Gang members and drug traffickers are given a stern warning: Follow the law, or the police will come down hard and fast. After the meeting, social workers take over. They comb the streets reminding potential criminals of the consequences. The theory behind this model is that a promise of punishment must be carried out swiftly. Police who make empty threats aid crime, because most criminals can live with slaps on the wrist.
Like Slutkin's CeaseFire, Kennedy's approach has had some success in decreasing violence. But all of these attempts to work outside of law enforcement are short-term fixes at best. Slutkin's programs fail to pass the public sniff test: Once the media reports on tax dollars employing gang-member interrupters, citizens and legislators pull their support.
For Kennedy, the challenge has been finding complementary programs that can piggyback on his by bringing jobs and social services. He has the advantage of working with police approval. But in today's fiscal climate, city councils can barely afford to pay the police themselves, let alone add new costs.
These programs will not be scaled up any time soon. Unless the Obama administration wants to reward this new wave of entrepreneurial thinking — which will require, at the very least, weighty support from Congress and the Department of Justice — we'll see spotty results. Occasionally, the programs will bring about crime drops for short periods of time in a few neighborhoods. Soon after, though, a police chief or state legislator will make accusations of vigilantism or mob rule, and then a foundation or government will balk and pull support.
The victims of this drama are the poor. What choice do residents of crime-ridden neighborhoods have when police don't act quickly or effectively? Try telling them that a month or two without gang killings is not a big deal. Where life is almost always lived day-to-day, and street fights can become hazardous if not solved quickly, long-term solutions are a luxury and outside agitators a blessing. Real, lasting help is rarely offered. It's hard to blame them for taking the quick fix.
Across the nation, various programs are encouraging residents to solve problems on their own. These efforts vary in their approach: Some employ gang members to police other gang members; others use mediators to solve problems before they get out of hand. The common thread in all such efforts is the idea that if the cops can't deal with crime, the people should do it themselves.
As you might imagine, the law enforcement community has not laid out the welcome mat.
The most successful initiative (or the most potentially dangerous one, depending on your perspective) is Chicago's CeaseFire program, which has now branched out across the country. So-called "violence interrupters" keep their eyes peeled for potential conflicts, then intervene immediately so that disputes don't turn into gunfights. The police are rarely involved, as the "interrupters" earn some of their credibility from the fact that they work outside the law. They are often gang members with deep ties to the local underworld.
An evaluation of Chicago's CeaseFire program — no other city has been studied independently — found reductions in violent crime of 16 to 34 percent in communities where interrupters worked. Although no one can say for certain that CeaseFire was chiefly responsible, the drops are hard to dismiss in a city where four out of every five murders are caused by gunfire. In fact, the study was provocative enough to get the organization and its founder, Gary Slutkin, on the national map — and on the big screen, where its exploits were chronicled in the documentary "The Interrupters," a Sundance Film Festival darling this year.
CeaseFire's approach may sound radical, but it is, in fact, neither unique nor novel. In 1973, the Guardian Angels donned their red berets and white shirts to patrol big-city subways and alleys. They, too, found would-be perpetrators and mediated disputes. And well before that, many African-American communities supplanted ineffective and abusive law enforcement with unofficial mediation.
Today there are dozens of these programs across the country, and the organizers usually don't draw attention to themselves. CeaseFire, though, seeks out the media spotlight, and its charismatic founder has become something of an evangelist. While community-based groups welcome him, law enforcement officials are resistant. In Minneapolis, for example, the local CeaseFire experiment couldn't get off the ground; local police felt it would replicate past social service efforts that channeled money to gang members with little lasting gain.
Another program called Ceasefire, which is unrelated to Slutkin's organization, has sought to avoid the vigilante justice label. Ceasefire began in Boston, and has spread to numerous American cities, largely due to relationships its founder David Kennedy has cultivated with police chiefs. He begins his work by hosting meetings between chiefs and local offenders. Gang members and drug traffickers are given a stern warning: Follow the law, or the police will come down hard and fast. After the meeting, social workers take over. They comb the streets reminding potential criminals of the consequences. The theory behind this model is that a promise of punishment must be carried out swiftly. Police who make empty threats aid crime, because most criminals can live with slaps on the wrist.
Like Slutkin's CeaseFire, Kennedy's approach has had some success in decreasing violence. But all of these attempts to work outside of law enforcement are short-term fixes at best. Slutkin's programs fail to pass the public sniff test: Once the media reports on tax dollars employing gang-member interrupters, citizens and legislators pull their support.
For Kennedy, the challenge has been finding complementary programs that can piggyback on his by bringing jobs and social services. He has the advantage of working with police approval. But in today's fiscal climate, city councils can barely afford to pay the police themselves, let alone add new costs.
These programs will not be scaled up any time soon. Unless the Obama administration wants to reward this new wave of entrepreneurial thinking — which will require, at the very least, weighty support from Congress and the Department of Justice — we'll see spotty results. Occasionally, the programs will bring about crime drops for short periods of time in a few neighborhoods. Soon after, though, a police chief or state legislator will make accusations of vigilantism or mob rule, and then a foundation or government will balk and pull support.
The victims of this drama are the poor. What choice do residents of crime-ridden neighborhoods have when police don't act quickly or effectively? Try telling them that a month or two without gang killings is not a big deal. Where life is almost always lived day-to-day, and street fights can become hazardous if not solved quickly, long-term solutions are a luxury and outside agitators a blessing. Real, lasting help is rarely offered. It's hard to blame them for taking the quick fix.
