Meeting Two:

May 13, 1996
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Constituency Building and Urban

Community Policing

problem solving (to address the proximate causes of

repeat disturbances).

These elements of community and problem-solving

policing vary considerably across implementations.

Two of these elements, consultation and mobilization,

are not entirely within the control of the police. These

will not be successful simply on the basis of what the

police do. They will also be affected by historical patterns of citizen consultation with the police or other

centralized authorities and by residents’ prior experiences with mobilizing to achieve collective ends, with

or against the police, and with other partners or

against other targets.

Some areas in a city and some citizens are more

skilled than others in the tasks of consulting and

therefore can marshal more of the resources necessary

for mobilization than others. Current research on new

policing strategies indicates that the police are least

effective in working with the neighborhoods that are

most in need of greater and more effective police service, partly because typical consultation and mobilization strategies are least effective in these areas

(Skogan, 1990).

Consultation with residents about neighborhood problems and preferences and mobilization of residents

to implement programs are critical, civic activities

(Cortes, 1993; McKnight, 1995; Stoecker, 1994), but

government has had a poor track record in prior attempts (Warren et al., 1974). Government agencies,

including the police, are concerned about losing control (Lipsky, 1980). They usually channel citizen consultation in ways that will be most convenient for the

agency and seek to direct rather than facilitate mobilization (Weingart et al., 1994; Warren, 1976).

Whether and how the police now engage in consultation and mobilization should not be taken lightly. In

any public endeavor, one must begin with the assumption that harm as well as good can be done and that

Policing, constituencies,

and social capital

The institution of policing is undergoing a shift

toward greater responsiveness to the variable demands

for service enunciated by subdivisions within jurisdictions and toward greater concern for strategies to

prevent or reduce crime. Increasing attention is being

paid to whether and how the police can contribute to

the quality of life in neighborhoods through the adoption of these strategies (Bayley, 1994).

This change in policing has been gradual and fitful.

Harbingers of the current ideas for community policing and problem solving first emerged in the late

1960s (Sherman et al., 1973; Toch, 1969), and current

strategies are in part incremental adjustments to two

decades of evaluation research that challenged the

core strategies of professional law enforcement: street

patrol, rapid response to calls, and expert investigation (Bayley, 1994: 3).

The current policing adjustments in organization and

service strategy are not isolated innovations by one

slice of government. Other public-sector institutions

have also responded to criticism about insensitivity to

differential demands by various segments of their service domains and to the ineffectiveness of large, centralized service bureaucracies (Osborne and Gaebler,

1992). Partnerships between neighborhoods and government have been attempted in a number of policy

sectors (Hallman, 1984). The police share in the concern for greater governmental responsiveness, but

they did not invent it.

Among the more common elements in new policing

strategies are those that Bayley (1994: 105) summarizes with the acronym CAMPS: consultation (with

citizens about needs); adaptation (through more flexible resource allocation); mobilization of citizens

(to share the tasks of producing public safety); and

David E. Duffee, Reginald Fluellen, and Thomas Roscoe
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beneficent intent may often have harmful consequences. If consultation and mobilization are critical

elements in the development of an active citizenry,

the police may promote more than police aims by supporting such activities. But, at the same time, they can

undermine more than police goals by doing it poorly.

The police can build community, but they can also

destroy it. They can destroy it directly by actions that

fail to engage residents in the coproduction of public

order. They can destroy it indirectly and inadvertently

by providing disappointing experiences in civic partnership, thereby reducing the future supply of energy

for collective problem solving, or contributing to narrow and incomplete definitions of neighborhood problems. Some of the strongest enemies of community

would benefit greatly if the “community problem”

were seen only as the result of residents’ characteristics and behaviors—such as criminality and crime—

rather than also the result of policies that draw

resources away from the communities.

This paper takes a deeper look at the community

side of community policing strategies by examining

whether CAMPS can contribute to community building. It examines the extent to which police encourage

constituency building and constituency behavior in

neighborhoods. It frames that examination by analyzing the especially difficult task of constituency building in the poorest, highest crime, urban areas.

The main argument is that the police face an uphill,

but not impossible, battle in fostering constituency

behavior. Arrayed against their efforts are the political

economies of urban areas, which traditionally favor

some city interests and neighborhoods over others.

This traditional tilt in city governance is described

as the “urban struggle.” Within this struggle, certain

beliefs about what is normal and appropriate have

been institutionalized, providing some urban actors

advantage over others.

The argument is presented in five sections. This section, “Policing, Constituencies, and Social Capital,”

reviews the historical context in which the police

work for community order and introduces the concepts of constituency and social capital. “The Urban

Struggle” outlines this issue, its key participants,

and recent shifts in the urban struggle that provide

potential for city government partnerships with

neighborhoods. “Constituency Building in Controlled

Communities” examines seven critical variables in

constituency building in poor neighborhoods. “The

Police and Sustained Community” illustrates how

community policing may influence those variables for

better or worse. “Prospects and Strategies for Sustaining Constituency” concludes by reviewing the preferences of different parties in the urban struggle for

police impact on community variables and sketches

some strategies for the police that would make constituency building more likely.

Although the police are often genuinely unaware of

the nature of the urban struggle, they have played a

part in it. Indeed, the traditional policing strategies of

patrol, rapid response, and investigation (along with

centralization) were devised by police executives as

their response to the demands of the more powerful,

politically connected parties to the urban struggle.

The police and the rest of local government may, in

fact, change their strategic plan and change sides in

the struggle to define the quality of urban living. But

they will not do so successfully without understanding

the role urban politics has played in the last 50 years

and the great forces arrayed against significant change

that have been produced by that tradition (Byrum,

1992; Logan and Molotch, 1987; Skogan, 1990:

172–173).

The reconfiguration of police strategies and missions

should be seen as a small but significant part of the

broader struggle to reshape public and private administration. On the one side are significant attempts to

be more responsive and more humane to employees

and to citizens or customers (e.g., French and Bell,

1995: 236–253; Osborne and Gaebler, 1992). On the

other side are major pressures for the privatization

of wealth, the reduction of public services, and the

minimization of the public’s bottom line (Bayley,

1994: 144; Dyckman, 1996; French and Bell,

1995: 250–251).

The outcome of these counterpressures will be the

result of a long-term, not a short-term, struggle. It is

doubtful that many police leaders, or city leaders in

general, have sufficient staying power to adopt a longterm perspective (Wycoff and Skogan, 1993: 87–88).

But without greater appreciation of the meaning of

consultation and mobilization in urban communities,

the police can engage in a number of short-term programmatic efforts and achieve short-term successes

on measures of public order while contributing
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David E. Duffee, Reginald Fluellen, and Thomas Roscoe

nothing positive in the long term to the quality of

urban life.

The frequent lack of connection between short-term

innovation and long-term change is mainly explained

by the ability of the forces that are against neighborhood livability to coopt citizen programs and steer

them toward the achievement of greater private gain

(Logan and Molotch, 1987; Stoecker, 1994). The

sustainability of neighborhood improvements is in

large measure explained by the creation, nurture, and

institutionalization of constituencies that build neighborhood life (Castells, 1983).

Police constituencies

Police constituencies in urban settings can be conceived with varying levels of complexity. Some early

conceptions, for example, simply designated four

primary interest groups: the general public, the court

work group, local government officials, and levels

within the police department (Whitaker et al., 1982).

The approach taken here will be broader in some

respects and narrower in others.

Constituents are recognized as part of a polity and

therefore have a hand in shaping policy by selecting

representatives to formulate or implement policy.

Constituents express concerns about the public

agenda that must be taken into account. They can

exercise that influence directly or indirectly, periodically or continuously, formally or informally. The

constituents whose expectations are most accounted

for often may not be the most visible in their exertion

of influence.

Police constituencies can be identified narrowly by

observing only those persons who or groups that take

a direct and visible interest in police behavior or more

broadly by designating those who have an interest in

shaping the quality of life in urban systems, for which

the police provide a primary function. This paper will

take the broader approach, under the assumption that

those actors who shape the city shape the police.

This discussion of police constituency will be narrower than others because it will focus on community

constituencies in urban settings—the groups that

shape the meaning of living in cities. Although

definitions of community vary, they tend to focus on

residential areas or neighborhoods in which people

unrelated by family or organizational membership

carry out the tasks of daily living (Hallman, 1984;

Lyon, 1987; Warren, 1978). The focus will be on the

actors whose expectations shape the quality of urban

living space and the role that the police are to play in

contributing to that quality.

Expectations of police officers and citizens can be

analyzed in terms of immediate situational cues that

predict decisions in that specific encounter (Worden et

al., 1995), but these are not directly relevant to community constituencies. The expectations of interest

here are those that contribute to how the police participate in the definition of community. Most of these

are not expectations of individuals interacting on the

street but the expectations institutionalized in structural relations and cultural understandings. These

expectations include those built into police roles by

recruitment, training, and evaluation criteria; the expectations of mothers that their children will be safe

in the neighborhood; and the expectations of real

estate developers that a proposal for a new office

complex will be accepted as a benefit to everyone in

the city. In other words, the expectations most relevant are those built into the structure and traditions

of city life.

Although expectations at this level are not as variable

and fluid as those related to individual encounters,

they are not set in stone. The primary actors in structuring urban communities are not simply playing out

a script of preordained expectations; they act on the

basis of them, but they also struggle to maintain them

and interpret particular proposals or actions as consistent with their general expectations. Which expectations apply may not always be clear since cultures and

traditions, particularly in diverse and open societies,

may contain contradictory elements competing for

enactment. Even specific actors may have difficulty

articulating which expectations apply in determining

what to do about particular urban issues.

It is in this context that Hope (1995: 22) and

Goldstein (1987) interpret changes in crime prevention and policing strategies not as changes in scientific theories about crime control but as the outcomes

of political struggles for the definition of community.

For example, crime prevention strategies have varied

over time in their conceptualization of offenders and

victims as community members. In the 1960s, crime

prevention strategies considered offenders as community members with some claims on those responsible
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for shaping crime control, while more recent views

are less likely to see offenders as constituents—as

part of the community—with legitimate expectations

of influence. Similarly, victims traditionally have been

ignored in shaping crime prevention policy but have

recently gained legitimacy as constituents (Hope,

1995: 66–67).

Constituency and social capital

Constituencies are not clients receiving services

(McKnight, 1995), but are people actively engaged in

defining the processes of their governance. Constituents have an active role in the inputs to policy. They

are heard when goals are set and alternatives are

weighed. People assume the obligations of constituency when they feel they are a part of local life and

are connected to the rest of society (Alinsky, 1969:

40; Cortes, 1993). Putnam has argued that the quality

of public life and the performance of public institutions are linked to structures for and traditions of civic

engagement (1995: 3).

This general observation has appeared relevant to the

control of crime since the most frequent conclusions

about crime prevention activity are that they are best

implemented when integrated with existing community associations and they are least successful in areas

with little associational life (Bursik and Grasmick,

1993: 154). Whether individuals do something about

crime is not related to the personal relevance of crime

to them; instead it is related to their personal involvement in communal activities (Skogan and Maxfield,

1981: 226–227).

Putnam’s term for the “features of social organization,

such as networks, norms, and social trust, that facilitate coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit”

is social capital (1995: 4). A community organizer in

Texas has defined the same concept as “a measure of

how much collaborative time and energy people have

for each other” (Cortes, 1993: 17).

Putnam’s analysis of a wide variety of joining behavior indicates that the United States has suffered a

steady and serious erosion of social capital since

World War II (1995: 4). This drop can be seen in all

classes of people and all regions of the country. He

interprets this drop as a generational effect; people

born prior to 1940 are aging out of the population,

and no group since has exhibited a similar level of

associational behavior (1996). Life in many neighborhoods has become a private rather than a communal

affair.

While not all social capital is invested in civic engagement, civic engagement is dependent on the stock of

social capital available. A wide range of commentators have argued that the nature of public institutions,

such as the police, is fundamentally changed when

those receiving services are not engaged in the process of defining the nature of services to be delivered

or problems to be solved (Alinsky, 1969: 55; Lipsky,

1980; Posner, 1990: 17; Putnam, 1995; Spergel, 1976:

90). One community organizer hypothesizes that any

progress with poverty or other urban ills is dependent

on the creation and nurturing of neighborhood-level

institutions that can mediate between the private lives

of neighbors and the public institutions of the state

(Cortes, 1993: 23). Another experienced organizer

asserts that some areas are too bereft of associations

to constitute a community and that constituencies

with the capacity to define or take action on community issues such as crime cannot exist in these areas

(Delgado, 1986: 83).

While social capital is declining throughout the

United States, it is at its lowest in poor, diverse, urban

neighborhoods (Wilson, 1987). These neighborhoods

contribute disproportionately to crime and victimization and are the areas most in need of new policing

initiatives such as community policing (Buerger,

1994; Grinc, 1994). However, these neighborhoods

are also those least able (and at times least willing) to

participate with the police in the coproduction of public safety (Skogan, 1990). Without sufficient social

capital, they often lack the processes and structures

that support constituency behaviors (Cortes, 1993;

McKnight, 1995). Policing initiatives to prevent crime

in such areas are particularly problematic—often

engendering no citizen involvement at all or increasing, rather than reducing, dissension within the neighborhood (Skogan, 1990). Before the police begin to

engage such neighborhoods, the special difficulties of

these localities must be understood. The police have

traditionally played a role, albeit a minor one, in the

reduction of constituency building in such neighborhoods. The difficulties of constituency building in

these “controlled neighborhoods” (Alinsky, 1969;

Reitzes and Reitzes, 1982) can only be appreciated in

relation to the broader urban struggle in which these

neighborhoods have generally been the losers.
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The urban struggle

Skogan and Maxfield (1981: 238) assert that most

programs, research, and theory about fear of crime

and victimization have focused on the residential

neighborhood as the arena for action. A more recent

review suggests that policy and research attention has

not changed in the intervening years (Hope, 1995).

There are severe dangers in equating the target of

program goals (better neighborhoods) with the locus

of effective actions toward those goals (e.g., crime

prevention should focus on problems within neighborhoods). For example, if we focus on the exertion of

social control within a neighborhood, we may miss

processes by which some neighborhoods control

crime by funneling it into other neighborhoods

(Byrum, 1992).

The progenitor of much community organizing in the

United States, Saul Alinsky, said that the two major

failures of typical approaches to neighborhood problems were the failure to recognize the interdependence of problems and the failure to understand that

neighborhood life is influenced by forces that transcend the neighborhood (Alinsky, 1969: 57). While

highly critical of Alinsky’s strategies for avoiding

these failures, the preeminent scholar of urban social

movements, Manuel Castells would agree with him

about tendencies of American attempts to improve

neighborhoods: (1) they tend to occur at the level

where the problem is experienced without regard to

the broader context, (2) they tend to focus on single

issues isolated from other related objectives, and (3)

they are organized locally without regard for linking

neighborhoods to external agencies and resources

(Castells, 1983: 123; see similar list in Boyte,

1980: 35).

Understanding the neighborhood as a product of local

and nonlocal forces is critical in analyzing what a

number of researchers and organizers have called the

urban struggle. As Logan and Molotch put it, “Neighborhood futures are determined by the ways in which

entrepreneurial pressures from outside intersect with

internal material stakes and sentiments” (1987: 123).

While disorder in neighborhoods has proximate,

neighborhood causes, its roots are embedded in

“capitalism, racism, and the emerging role of the

U.S. in the international division of labor” (Skogan,

1990: 172; see also Hallman, 1984: 261; Hope,

1995: 24).

In Castells’ view, the interaction of these forces in urban settings is best understood as a constant struggle

because the quality of city life at any point in time is a

product of different groups’ interests and social values

vying for influence in the use of urban space. The process of change is conflictual because some of these

interests and values are contradictory, and the process

is dialectical because the opposition of forces produces a trajectory of action in the struggle that is

unintended by any single actor or coalition of actors

(1983: xviii).

While the outcomes of the struggle are not intended

by any single group, this does not mean that the problems are not the product of policies, rather than impersonal forces (Wilkins, 1991: 57–70). The primary

threat to neighborhoods, say Logan and Molotch

(1987: 111), is not urbanization but “organizations

and institutions whose routine functioning reorganize

urban space” (see also Castells, 1983: 12; Warren,

1976: 9–14). The urban struggle is not predetermined

but open (Castells, 1983: 72), not inexorable but manageable (Bratton, 1995). But the openness and manageability also imply that prior failures, especially in

the poorest neighborhoods, are largely the product of

policy choices. Poverty and crime, or at least their

concentration, have been created. Arguments to the

contrary are most often put forth by two parties: the

currently dominant actors in the urban struggle who

enjoy the greatest benefit from the current use of urban space (Castells, 1983: xvii) and the exhausted and

apathetic who have suffered the greatest costs of the

current use of urban space (Cortes, 1993).

The principal competing values for the use of space

are those of exchange value and use value. Exchange

value operates on the premise that owners of city

space or investors in city development should be able

to extract as much profit as possible from the use of

urban space. Exchange value therefore places a premium on high-density usage and population growth.

Use value rests on the premise that those living in

urban space should have accessible services to meet

their needs for daily survival, enjoy networks of informal social support, and share symbols of security and

trust (Logan and Molotch, 1987: 103). Use value

places a premium on livability or community.

Exchange values are typically championed by interests organized in large institutions such as corporations, banks, and political parties. Use values are
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typically championed by grassroots movements in

neighborhoods and citizens’ organizations. Therefore,

the urban struggle also typically includes a conflict

over the form of decision processes. Use value adherents tend to push for increased autonomy and power

through grassroots democracy, while exchange value

interests stress the advantages of centralized and

expert decisionmaking (Castells, 1983: 12–48; Bruyn

and Meehan, 1987: 24).

The primary actors in the struggle

The primary actors in the urban struggle are State

authorities (including local government), citizens’

movements, and exchange value interests, such as

large capital interests, developers, and landlords

(Cunningham and Kotler, 1983: xxi; Logan and

Molotch, 1987: 47; Stoecker, 1994: 12). None of these

are consistently unified groups, always acting in concerted fashion with other members of the same group.

Exchange value interests are fragmented in a variety

of ways, including their relative commitment to place.

Large capital can be moved with electronic speed in

response to advantages in international markets and

has little, and increasingly less, commitment to any

particular place. In contrast, utilities and local landlords can hope to influence local markets but cannot

leave (Logan and Molotch, 1987: 39). Within the

same space, various capital interests will compete

with each other and forge alignments with other urban

actors to advance their own projects over the proposals of their competitors (Stoecker, 1994: 15). Nevertheless, all capital interests will fight to defend the

dominant rules of the city game. They expect free

market assumptions to be seen as natural and right.

They expect the negative byproducts of capital

exchange to be externalized and paid by other actors,

either by the State or by neighborhood residents.

They expect that most external benefits, such as the

increased value of land after development, will accrue

to capital. In other words, economic elites agree that

acceptable debate will take place within the exchange

value framework (Logan and Molotch, 1987: 64).

The American state is likewise separated into Federal,

State, and local systems and a host of public authorities that buffer elected officials from direct responsibility for and criticism about many urban planning

functions and services. It is the peculiar nature of

American federalism that all three levels of government operate conjointly and simultaneously in the

urban struggle. Local government is not necessarily

closer, in the sense of being more responsive to neighborhood interests, than State and Federal agencies

(Grozdins, 1963; Stoecker, 1994: 90–140; Warren et

al., 1974). All three provide direct services as well as

planning and coordinating functions. Despite competition and conflicts among and within governmental

structures, government officials, like various members

in the market, tend to share and defend basic underlying premises. For agents of the State, the primary

expectation is their control of formal decisionmaking

(Lipsky, 1980; Miller et al., 1977: 169–174). Local

government is likely to respond to neighborhood pressures, capital projects, and State and Federal policies

in relation to how those initiatives are perceived to

enhance or constrict local decision discretion. The local government generally favors exchange value interests and defends exchange value assumptions, but it is

vulnerable to counterclaims from neighborhoods because it must maintain legitimacy. If city growth strategies visibly threaten the livability of neighborhoods,

the local government may become sympathetic to

calls for greater attention to use value in decisions

about urban space.

Citizens’ groups also vary in several ways. Their

objectives vary from racist and reactionary to progressive (Logan and Molotch, 1987: 37). Some citizens’

groups are organized around public issues that are not

place specific (e.g., Mothers Against Drunk Drivers,

Ralph Nader and his consumer protection group, civil

rights) but are apparently concerned with resisting

corporate or government power or policies in general.

Others are place specific and have been identified

loosely as the neighborhood movement (Boyte,

1980: 7). The neighborhood movement, in turn, varies

in its philosophy and strategies for action. Neighborhood organizations can seek to defend specific

localities against encroachment of new members and

lifestyles or can seek a greater share of resources for

all neighborhood residents (Skogan, 1988). Neighborhood organizations can compete with each other or

form coalitions to gain power against other urban

actors (Boyte, 1980: 148–166).

The growth machine

Since the 1950s market forces have overwhelmed

the countervailing forces in the city (Byrum, 1992;

Cunningham and Kotler, 1983: xxi). In the urban
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struggle, the economic elite have prevailed. As a

result, the concentration of wealth has increased while

the payment for infrastructure costs is less shared. The

fastest growing industries pay less for labor than the

declining industries. On average, real wages are down

while profits are rising. The proportion of the population that is poor is increasing while the proportion that

is middle class is decreasing. The proportion of tax

revenues that come from corporations declined by

about two-thirds between 1960 and 1984 (Faux,

1987: 28).

Capital interests have a number of advantages in the

urban struggle that help explain these outcomes. In

terms of understanding the expectations of constituencies in the urban struggle, the economic elite have a

strategic advantage in choosing how to participate.

Capital interests can participate directly in city politics by backing a particular political party or candidate, but they can also take more indirect routes, such

as relying on influence in government boards and

committees or leveraging favorable government policies through control of the economy. The state will

usually act to please capital interests under the fear

(and often the threat) that capital interests will otherwise go elsewhere (Stoecker, 1994: 12–14).

Capital interests’ expectation that indirection is sufficient is often met. For example, most government

urban planning has favored capital interests over

neighborhood interests despite legislation to the contrary. Eighty percent of urban renewal funds have

been used for economic development rather than

housing, and urban renewal programs have destroyed

more housing than they have built (Logan and

Molotch, 1987: 147–179).

The economic elite can also coopt community organizations, such as preservation committees, neighborhood associations, and community development

corporations. The efforts of these organizations to

promote stability and vitality in neighborhoods can

have the unintended effect of promoting profit taking,

as the value of space becomes more attractive for

outside investors (Logan and Molotch, 1987: 139;

Stoecker, 1994: 240).

Long-term negative effects of short-term improvements in neighborhoods are particularly likely when

collective action by residents is not guided by knowledge of the urban struggle and therefore does not

include limits on exchange value in revitalization

plans. This oversight is frequent when neighborhoods

rely on interpretations for urban problems that are

consistent with the exchange value framework—that

the market should determine how neighborhoods fare

(Kling and Posner, 1990: 34; Boyte, 1980: 172).

The coalition of interests seeking exchange value

in the use of city space has been called the growth

machine (Swanstrom, 1985: 25; Logan and Molotch,

1987: 34). Growth machines can be conservative, in

which case government aids and abets the maximization of profit without much regard for externalized

costs. Growth machines can also be liberal, in which

case government both reallocates through taxes some

of the benefits from growth for the development of

neighborhood services and also controls how growth

will take place (Logan and Molotch, 1987: 67–69;

Swanstrom, 1985: 11–34).

The United States is currently in an era of conservative growth politics, in which the prevailing view is

that government social programs are too costly and

government controls have failed. This includes the

notion that social science understanding of community order is faulty and that city development should

be left to the marketplace (Hope, 1995: 41).

Under the conservative growth machine, legitimate

understandings of community problems are limited to

those that concentrate on the organization and behavior of neighborhood residents. Problems are viewed

as the product of internal disorganization within the

neighborhood. Policies and programs that seek to

enhance the internal controls in neighborhoods will

be favored, while those that examine the position of

neighborhoods in the larger urban system will be

seen as off limits (Hope, 1995: 71–72). Consequently,

conservative growth machines will favor community

policing and crime prevention over changes in other

policies as means to deal with community problems

so long as these programs focus on resident behavior

rather than on linking that behavior to the costs of

conservative growth policies.

Although concentrated economic power appears

indomitable, there are limits to the conservative

growth machine. While a number of commentators

have characterized the current economic system as

unbridled capitalism, even the recognition of that system characteristic may provide some limitations to the
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machine, since the power of capital interests seems

greatest when it goes unrecognized and unquestioned.

Dramatically visible inequality may limit continued

hegemony of the conservative growth machine.

The increasing concentration of wealth and the increasing internationalization of the economy have

created fissures in the growth machine. Internationalization of wealth has meant that local economic actors

do not control investment decisions as they used to

do. Local economic leaders have less chance to share

in the wealth, and local political leaders have less

chance to share in the decisionmaking (Logan and

Molotch, 1987: 201–208; McKnight, 1995: 154). This

trend has led to calls that corporations must evaluate

moves in capital in terms of community impact

(Etzioni, 1993: 127), to President Clinton’s criticism

of the stock market’s negative reaction to higher

employment, and to presidential candidate Patrick

Buchanan’s blue-collar, populist Republican campaign. It has also led one student of crime prevention

to wonder if neighborhoods need reinvestment rather

than disorder policing (Hope, 1995: 61).

Differential costs in the urban

struggle

While the growth machine promises that increasing

exchange value is in everyone’s interest, it does not

deliver on this promise. The benefits and costs for

growth are differentially distributed, both within and

across cities (Byrum, 1992; Logan and Molotch,

1987: 70–91). Certain neighborhoods have been increasingly isolated from the rest of their cities and

separated from the rest of society as a result both of

market forces and government policies (Byrum, 1992:

28–31; Hope, 1995: 73–76; McGahey, 1986: 233;

Wilson, 1987).

Poor neighborhoods in older central cities are the

most vulnerable to the negative changes that growth

politics involves. The poor are the most likely to be

displaced in renewal, and displacement is likely to

break the neighborhood connections that provide the

organization for resistance (Logan and Molotch,

1987: 112–113). People who have the power in innercity neighborhoods typically live elsewhere, reducing

allegiance to use values among those with the skills

and resources to object to growth and leaving

exchange values unrestrained (Comer, 1985: 69–72;

Logan and Molotch, 1987: 132).

In neighborhoods with high concentrations of renters,

living in progressively less maintained older housing

stock, these trends have led to higher turnover of residents, less commitment to particular places, fewer

ties among residents, and less of the social capital

required for associational structures (McGahey, 1986:

244; Wilson, 1987). These personal and physical disorders may lead to increased fear, increased serious

crime, further erosion of resident control of public

behavior, and further reductions in neighborhood

stability (Bursik and Grasmick, 1993: 15; Skogan,

1990: 3).

The predominating explanation of such neighborhoods in crime control circles is that they are disorganized because the informal social control once exerted

by residents on each other has disappeared (Bursik

and Grasmick, 1993; Skogan, 1988: 40). But attempts

to aid such neighborhoods based on the disorganization premise have often failed. The attempts meet with

internal resistance from residents who exert tremendous energy in organizing to survive under such circumstances (Bursik and Grasmick, 1993: 148–180;

Reitzes and Reitzes, 1982: 343) and are understandably suspicious of expert motivations and interpretations of their problems. These attempts are also

resisted by external forces for whom the devalued

neighborhood is an important component of the

economy of the city (Byrum, 1992: 1; Hope, 1995:

34–40).

Within the broader view of the urban struggle, such

areas are not disorganized but controlled by external

forces (Alinsky, 1969; Spergel, 1976). In controlled

areas, residents’ costs in time, energy, and money for

day-to-day survival are so high that there are few resources left over for the development of social capital

(Stoecker, 1994: 213–215). “[T]hose who have the

most need to mobilize have the least time” (Stoecker,

1994: 215). As a result, there is a dearth of indigenous

organizations that can serve as bases for constituent

behavior (McKnight, 1995: 154). As the police begin

to explore the meaning of community policing, such

areas often lack the associational structures that

might express expectations about policing (Grinc,

1994: 459). Bayley (1994) and Grinc (1994) ask

whether the police should have a role in creating such

structures.
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Potential realignment of the

local State

It is usually only in alliance with the political elite

that neighborhoods can obtain the resources necessary

to promote the use value of space and disrupt the

growth machine. While the local State usually sides

with capital interests, it does not always do so. The

growth machine is not always strong enough to form a

regime (Swanstrom, 1985: 36). Local city government

is particularly vulnerable to counterclaims, since it

must maintain legitimacy through some attention to

use value or the collective consumption needs of

residents (Stoecker, 1994: 14–15).

Historically, increased demands on the State to ameliorate the problems left in the wake of capital accumulation have produced other problems, such as a

larger and more oppressive State bureaucracy (Bruyn

and Meehan, 1987: 2; Lipsky, 1980). As State services

have grown, governments have ignored or even destroyed communities in the effort to provide services

to individuals (Etzioni, 1993: 1–20; McKnight, 1995;

Spergel, 1976). Citizens’ movements may then organize against government as well as, or instead of,

against the economic elite (Boyte, 1980: 7).

Until recently, the urban police component of the

expanded service State has been legalistic policing. It

emerged in the 1920s and 1930s as progressive politicians aligned with capital interests sought to wrest

control of city hall from ethnic neighborhoods (Haller,

1971; for a related court example, see Levine, 1972).

The result, according to Kelling, has been a model of

crime control that removed access to law from the

citizens policed (1995: 13). While the typical portrayal of legalistic policing is that it has been removed

from politics, the notion of removal has been an interpretation fostered by the growth machine. Since the

progressive reforms of city government have generally favored growth machine objectives (Stoecker,

1994), legalistic policing has removed the police from

the counterclaims of neighborhoods on central authority (Skogan, 1990: 86). The police job has been to

maintain order without changing the dominant direction of the urban political economy toward economic

growth and away from neighborhood quality of life.

Beginning in the 1970s, there have been halting but

repeated attempts to make government more responsive to neighborhood constituents, often under the

notion of partnerships between neighborhoods and

government service organizations with broader jurisdictions (Hallman, 1984: 272). This trend is borrowed

to some extent from the quality movement in private

firms and the active client movements in education

and medicine (Fleissner et al., 1991: 9–10).

The police have been involved in this trend since its

inception (Couper and Lobitz, 1991; Fleissner et al.,

1991; Sherman et al., 1973). But the forces arrayed

against the restructuring of policing (or other aspects

of government) in partnership arrangements are many.

These include bureaucratic standardization, the long

isolation of government bureaucracies from service

recipients, and professional or specialist antagonism

to lay participation in deciding actions to be taken

(Bayley, 1994; Hallman, 1984: 272; Lipsky, 1980).

In the police case, the internal blockages include a

midmanagement trained in the autocratic, but ineffective, control of officers and wedded to particular

techniques of crime control (Bayley, 1994; Kelling

and Bratton, 1993; van Maanen, 1974) and a host of

expectations built into police recruiting, promotion,

supervision, and evaluation systems (Goldstein, 1987:

13). The external blockages include a police organization structure that is unfamiliar with the process of

improving linkages with other organizations, such as

neighborhood groups, in voluntary exchanges (Hall et

al., 1977); a deeply ingrained association of neighborhood ties with corruption; and a tendency to grant legitimacy only to community leaders associated with

the growth coalition.

The result is that “police departments have paid . . .

little attention to the education and inclusion of community residents in their transition to community

policing. Indeed, in most cases, community policing

is an isolated police department phenomenon including neither community residents nor other city agencies” (Grinc, 1994: 441). If this assessment remains

accurate, then community policing would be only

another sop to the growth machine—a means to pay

lipservice to the needs of neighborhoods while city

business progresses as usual (Manning, 1988).

The police and other segments of government may

restructure and realign with neighborhoods in opposition to the forces of centralization and capital growth.

The fissures in the growth coalition, as described

above, may well provide an opportunity for a different
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form and function of policing than that provided by

progressive urban reform and professional law

enforcement.

While the political opportunity structure (Stoecker,

1994: 22–23) may be more open in many cities than

in the past to alliances between neighborhoods and

the State, the most likely predictions are that police

bureaucracy will find a way to interpret community

policing in ways that are the least challenging to its

internal structure and that exchange value interests in

the urban struggle will find ways to bend community

policing to its objectives, contrary to neighborhood

desires and independent of policing intentions.

The extent to which community policing and related

efforts at crime prevention represent a true realignment of government with neighborhoods is dependent

on the extent to which community policing is a part

of, rather than a substitute for, reinvestment in neighborhoods, and to which community policing facilitates neighborhood constituency building, rather than

simply supplying another set of services to neighborhoods.

The strength of these twin characteristics can be

examined in existing community policing programs.

But this search is more accurately conducted after an

elaboration of the nature of constituency building in

controlled neighborhoods.

Constituency building in

controlled communities

What would the reorganization of controlled communities require? How can neighborhoods be less determined by nonlocal forces, have more influence over

those forces (or at least how those forces will affect

the neighborhood), and become more livable, or provide greater evidence of use value premises in the use

of space?

A search of the neighborhood movement and neighborhood revitalization literature provides a host of

desirable outcome variables—characteristics of

improved livability—such as greater participation in

the labor market, greater residential stability, greater

access to services and commodities for daily living,

and reduced disease, disorder, and crime. But the

same literature provides less guidance about processes

of neighborly and organizational interactions and the

structures that support and maintain these processes.

Yet all community literature agrees that outcomes are

dependent on altered processes and structures, first to

achieve improvement on these outcome indicators and

second to institutionalize their attainment—to reproduce them on a regular basis.

Unfortunately, descriptions of these neighborhood

structural variables are often embedded in accounts of

change in which the focal point is the end result rather

than how it was accomplished. Definitions of neighborhood qualities therefore remain relatively amorphous, or defined differently by individual studies.

Evidence bearing on their enactment is anecdotal

rather than systematic.

One consequence of this relative inattention to neighborhood structure is an overconcern with outcomes

as opposed to the means of achieving them. This is

hazardous if long-term improvement is desired. As W.

Edwards Deming has said of results-based management, it is like driving a car with your eye on the

rear-view mirror. If that is true of organization

management, it is also true of neighborhood organizing. The neighborhood remains a black box.

The deficiencies in this plan are well-known in economic revitalization efforts. Housing renovation in

dilapidated areas fails to improve housing stock or

long-term housing value because the area cannot compete with more attractive suburban real estate. A local

economy is given a boost through luring to an area a

new enterprise, which then hires from a nonlocal

labor pool and later abandons that plant as less profitable than some other company line in another city

(Byrum, 1992).

The same kinds of deficiencies are reported in early

crime prevention efforts. Advice about reducing

victimization produces more fear of crime and less

neighborhood participation (Rosenbaum et al., 1986).

Neighborhood complainants about drug markets receive advice from the police to lie low. Precinct captains who successfully involve neighborhood residents

in neighborhood projects are promoted out of the

neighborhood and away from neighborhood building

(Weingart et al., 1994).

The police can and often do create improvements in

particular areas, even without significant participation

of the residents in the area or longer term changes in
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the structure of neighborhood life. But sustaining

those gains requires that other neighborhood characteristics also change.

A tentative listing of neighborhood sustainability variables and their definitions is given in exhibit 1. These

variables appear to be present in neighborhood processes and structures that increase social capital and

transform it into constituency behavior—the collective efforts to maintain quality of life in a neighborhood.

The list is preliminary because of the unsystematic

nature of research on neighborhood revitalization.

The definitions no doubt need refinement. Particularly

troublesome is that the variables in their present state

do not seem mutually exclusive. But it is not clear

from available research if this is because they cluster

empirically or because they are partially overlapping

indicators of more fundamental concepts. These variables do appear in several different research reports

on neighborhood improvement, addressing different

kinds of neighborhood problems in varying regions

and cultures. Examples to illustrate each variable are

provided below.

Internal coordination

The extent to which neighborhood groups and organizations act in concerted fashion toward solving problems has long been recognized as a critical variable in

the strengthening of neighborhoods. Internal coordination, or unification, is the primary objective of

locality development—self-help strategies for neighborhood improvement (Warren, 1978). It also is a

critical component of social action strategies, such as

those used by the Industrial Areas Foundation (IAF)

(Cortes, 1993) and the Association of Community

Organizations for Reform Now (ACORN) (Delgado,

1986).

Exhibit 1. Variables Important In Sustaining Neighborhood Constituency Behavior

Variable Definition

Internal coordination The extent to which groups and organizations with separate functions but a common location act in concert for identified projects.

External linkage The extent to which a locality has ties to nonlocal centers of

resources and expertise.

Limits on exchange value The extent to which development in a locality places limits on

profit maximization.

Self-correcting process evaluation The extent to which neighborhood collective action is attentive to

its processes as well as its outcomes; self-evaluations are regular

and concerned with renewal.

Autonomy The extent to which a neighborhood has influence on decisions

about actions taken within it; the neighborhood retains its identity

when participating in nonlocal networks.

Shared culture The extent to which a neighborhood is conscious of cultural

uniqueness and shared symbols of common place.

Dialogue The extent to which information about the area is shared and

accurate; conflicts are addressed in forums in which all

participants are recognized as having legitimacy to speak.
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Internal coordination can also be problematic or

incomplete, since some neighborhood structures

can cooperate with each other without incorporating

the views and the energy of other neighborhood

components. In President Lyndon Johnson’s “War on

Poverty,” for example, there was great emphasis on

the coordination of the formal structures in a neighborhood, but these agencies systematically excluded

the residents of the neighborhood in the decisions

made by the agencies (Warren et al., 1974). More recently, crime prevention efforts have stressed internal

coordination on the informal level—better communication among residents—without considering the

connections of resident unification with the public

agencies and private organizations in the neighborhood (Hope, 1995). Measures of internal coordination

must consider both formal and informal interactions

to be complete.

Internal coordination can play a critical role in the

economic viability of an area. The Jamestown (New

York) Area Labor Management Committee (JALMC)

serves as an example. Among its various objectives

was “cooperative action by union, management, and

local leaders to save jobs in plant shutdowns and to

strengthen the economic base of the community”

(Meek, 1985: 142). In line with the strategy of cooperation, an industry-wide training program was

formed through the cooperation of Jamestown Community College, the United Furniture Workers, and

the Jamestown Area Manufacturers Association. The

small plants in Jamestown all had similar needs, with

training being one of the most pressing. The plants

also shared a lack of resources to effectively meet

these needs. Coordination was needed to identify

mutual needs and to utilize resources in an area to

meet those needs. The community college, which

previously had little involvement in area economic

concerns, became an active partner in the struggle

toward economic viability (Trist, 1986; Meek, 1985).

Cummins Engine located a new diesel enginebuilding plant in Jamestown in 1974, largely due to

this climate of cooperation between diverse members

of the community, resulting in 1,100 new jobs for area

residents (Gittell, 1992).

Although Jamestown had benefited from the areawide

focus on industrial needs, the mid- to late-1980s

brought increased unemployment and a general downturn in the quality of life. The unemployment rate in

Jamestown rose above national and State averages.

Twenty percent of its residents were on some form of

public assistance (Gittell, 1992).

Problems in Jamestown were attributed to social factors that were not addressed in the focus on the needs

of area industry. An Economic Development Committee was formed in 1986 with a broader mandate than

that of JALMC to deal with these issues. The committee included representatives from human services,

education, and downtown development organizations

and attempted to view problems holistically, recognizing the interdependency among economic and social

factors (Gittell, 1992).

External linkages

The extent to which a neighborhood has access to

nonlocal centers of resources and expertise is critical

to the viability of any locality. No neighborhood is

self-sufficient. Indeed, one of the major problems

with community revitalization efforts is the lingering

but mistaken myth that community problems are selfgenerated and that solutions will be only a matter of

mobilizing internal willpower and resources (Byrum,

1992). One of the major deficiencies in the neighborhoods with the highest rates of crime and disorder is

that they become increasingly isolated from nonlocal

resources and expertise as time passes (Wilson, 1987).

Hope (1995) argues convincingly that crime prevention efforts for the last 30 years have either ignored

external linkages entirely or have failed to alter the

nature of those linkages in the few instances in which

they have been viewed as important. Improving

external linkages is a critical component of all social

action strategies for neighborhood improvement

(Cortes, 1993) and one of the variables least likely

to be affected by locality development or self-help

approaches. Crime prevention efforts that focus on

neighborhood disorganization do not by themselves

provide neighbors with new connections to nonlocal

resources (Hope, 1995).

External linkages are critical to the economic wellbeing of a neighborhood. For example, neighborhoodlevel economies are often dependent on the initiation

of small, or “microenterprise,” ventures. Butler reports that two-thirds of all new jobs are in businesses

of less than 20 employees (National Council for

Urban Economic Development (CUED), 1994).

Neighborhood economic revitalization strategies

require sources of funding and expertise for the new
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entrepreneur that are not typically available locally.

Those lacking collateral and a loan history have difficulty attaining the capital needed for business startup

costs. Also, banks and other traditional lending institutions hesitate to extend business loans for the small

amounts of money sought by microenterprises

(CUED, 1994). Aside from the issue of capital is the

lack of expertise to increase the chances of successful

ventures. The following example shows how these

needs for both funding and expertise can be met.

The Detroit, Michigan, Self Employment Project is

designed to promote economic independence through

self-employment and entrepreneurship among individuals with limited resources (CUED, 1994: 37).

It is operated through the collaborative efforts of the

Michigan Department of Social Services and Wayne

State University. It is intended to help residents actualize their business ideas through assistance in a wide

range of business-related skills, including market

research, public relations, problem solving, and loan

packaging. Training comes through courses, workshops, conferences, and problem-solving clinics.

Since October 1990, 199 applicants have completed

the program and 101 have started their own enterprises (CUED, 1994).

The timing of public support can be as critical as the

level of support. JALMC received a $22,500 Federal

grant, which enabled it to hire a coordinator at a

critical stage in its development. In this instance, the

Federal Government responded in a timely manner to

locally supported and engineered means of renewal.

This strategically placed grant may have played a

large role in the continued growth of an organization

critical to the economic health of the city (Gittell,

1992).

Local development can be assisted by nonlocal allies

in a variety of ways. France’s Chomeurs Creature

program offers an innovative means of developing

entrepreneurship opportunities. Instead of collecting

regular welfare payments, qualified and motivated

recipients are given a lump-sum payment to cover

startup costs for their own businesses. Approximately

70,000 people are involved in this program. One-third

of all new French businesses get their start in this

manner, and 60–80 percent have survived longer than

3 years (Meehan, 1987).

Limits on exchange value

Whyte (1985) distinguishes between profit maximization and profit as a limiting factor. Etzioni’s argument

for a communitarian value system (1993) includes

enhancing the concern for corporate decisions’ impact

on neighborhoods. Stoecker (1994) and Logan and

Molotch (1987) argue that exchange value premises

must be limited by, if not replaced by, attention to use

value premises in decisions about how urban space

will be used. Byrum’s analysis of housing and labor

markets in Minneapolis (1992) indicates that market

forces, left unchecked, will inevitably lead to the

deterioration and isolation of some neighborhoods

because the exchange value premises of the growth

machine require some spaces to be devalued in order

for profit to be maximized.

Plants can be closed not because they are operating at

a loss but because profits are not sufficiently high. In

the late 1970s, U.S. Steel closed 14 plants, resulting

in layoffs of 13,000 workers. It then paid $6 billion

to acquire Marathon Oil of Ohio (Bluestone and

Harrison, 1982). Youngstown, Ohio, was hit by the

closing of U.S. Steel and other major steel mill employers. By 1984, all basic steel manufacturing in

Youngstown was gone. A nearby General Motors

plant also moved out. Closings resulted in an official

unemployment rate of 17 percent. Considering those

who were involuntarily retired, and those who were

only employed part time, estimates of true unemployment were as high as 33 percent (Moberg, 1985).

Studies on the impact of plant closings indicates that

long-term unemployment is the result for at least onethird of those affected. Corporations such as U.S.

Steel were able to operate on their own balance sheets

with little need to consider the balance sheet for the

neighborhood (Bluestone and Harrison, 1982).

In contrast to that balance sheet dynamic, Whyte

(1985) gives the example of Bates Fabrics Company

in Lewiston, Maine, an employer of 1,100 workers.

The parent company had grown into a conglomerate,

with increased investments outside of textiles. Corporate decisionmakers determined that a 15- to 20-

percent return was possible on investments in energy

and natural resources. This was compared with the 5-

to 7-percent profit that could be expected from their

textile operations. From the company’s standpoint,

profit maximization would point toward the conglomerate ridding itself of the textile plant. However, the
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community saw the decision quite differently, given

the possible social and economic repercussions should

the plant close. Local management, union leaders, and

citizens in the community were able to arrange for

employees to assume ownership and to modernize the

plant (Whyte, 1985).

Neighborhood economic revitalization depends on

recasting economic precepts within a neighborhood

orientation. Such strategies center on long-term,

stable growth (Gittell, 1992). Free-market benefits can

be directed toward social needs, thus avoiding both

the lack of accountability of unrestrained capitalism

and the lack of flexibility of State control (Bruyn,

1987).

Self-correcting process evaluation

A healthy, sustainable community requires neighborhood organizations that are conscious of their place in

the urban struggle and are therefore attentive to their

processes for continuing problem solving as well as

for achieving specific outcomes or solutions at any

one point in time. To be sustained, neighborhoods

need organizations that learn, that are self-evaluative,

and that are concerned with renewal.

Community development corporations (CDCs) may

operate in this capacity. CDCs act as mediating structures, or “those institutions standing between the individual in his private life and the large institutions of

public life” (Berger and Neuhaus, 1981). They were

initiated in 1966, as part of the War on Poverty. CDCs

are neighborhood-based, grassroots organizations and

are funded through financial institutions, foundations,

corporations, and government programs (CUED,

1994).

CDCs have the potential to expand

the professional skills and financial

resources available to cities for neighborhood economic development by

coordinating neighborhood opinion

and providing leadership to stimulate

the development process within the

community; packaging public and private financing; assisting city planners

in development planning; investing in

development projects; developing and

managing development projects; providing technical assistance; and assisting in directing city investment within

neighborhoods to achieve their greatest

impact and leverage (CUED, 1994: 4).

CDCs must be able to develop initiatives in neighborhoods that traditional funding sources typically avoid

and need the competence and direct knowledge of the

neighborhood to bring this about (Blakely, 1989).

CDCs have traditionally been involved in housing

activities. In the recent past, they have expanded their

involvement to other business ventures and to social

interventions that are seen as having a positive impact

on the community.

CDCs are not the only neighborhood organizations

with potential for self-correcting process evaluation.

In traditional community organizing, social action

organizations such as IAF and ACORN often provide

the most attention to development of urban political

consciousness on the part of their members and are

most concerned with a thorough process evaluation

of particular projects and meetings (Delgado, 1986;

Reitzes and Reitzes, 1986). But these organizations

can also become ineffective, develop rifts between

leaders and members, or become too caught up in

day-to-day service delivery or problem solving to

retain their concern for healthy communication and

member commitment.

Autonomy in decisionmaking

The viability of a neighborhood depends on its ability

to define its own goals and governing structure and

to control its access to, and impact from, public and

private forces (Boyte, 1980). For a neighborhood to

be sustained, it must have the autonomy to exert influence on nonlocal decisionmakers, rather than simply

accepting services and resources from nonlocal centers of power (Cortes, 1993).

Autonomy is one of the most overlooked variables in

community revitalization efforts (Hope, 1995), but a

sustained community does not exist without autonomy. It is critical to examine autonomy in relation to

external linkages, since autonomy, or the lack of it,

indicates the directionality in those linkages. Some

neighborhoods may have access to centrally financed

services but no influence over how those services will

be defined or allocated (Spergel, 1976). Controlled

neighborhoods lack the constituency voice to act on

their own behalf.
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An independent resource base is a critical component

of autonomy (Delgado, 1986: 204). The few crime

prevention programs that included attempts to increase neighborhood autonomy failed because the

neighborhood groups seeking influence over central

decisionmakers lost their access to resources controlled by those resistant central powers (Hope, 1995).

Neighborhood organizations such as ACORN chapters

seek to increase autonomy by generating their own

resources through dues and neighborhood-controlled

economic enterprises (Delgado, 1986).

Trist (1986) states that JALMC’s success came with

its acquiring of the properties of a local organization

and thereby gained influence over individuals and

organizations, though it lacked formal political

authority. JALMC then was able to bring about substantive rather than simply marginal changes.

According to Bruyn (1987), autonomy is obtained

when the neighborhood gains more control over land,

labor, and capital. Community land trusts can rescue

these resources from speculation. When applied to

housing, it can assure affordability for present and

future buyers. Worker cooperatives help stabilize the

neighborhood, since the neighborhood, as represented

by the workforce, is more directly involved in company decisions. Democratization of capital can

empower neighborhoods to find new means of local

development (Turner, 1987).

The following is an example of increased autonomy in

the economically depressed upper Great Lakes peninsula. The Lake Alternative Energy Board (LAEB), a

CDC, joined with other community action agencies

and a private company to bring revenue to the community, create jobs, and at the same time provide

low-cost fuel to area residents. The area has extremely

low winter temperatures and an annual average of 120

inches of snowfall. Fuel at affordable prices is a primary concern (Blakely, 1989).

LAEB served as a catalyst for developing solutions to

these problems. The first initiative involved developing wood pellets as a fuel source. Pellets can be made

from scraps from the area lumber industry, the refuse

of wood-chipping operations, and trees and limbs cut

down in forestry operations. Through an arrangement

with a private company, a wood pellet processing

plant was constructed in the area. Though the plant

employs only 20 to 25 people, it is estimated that the

business activity sparked by the plant brought

$30 million into the area (Blakely, 1989).

LAEB was successful in initiating economic development to meet the needs of the community. The plant,

customers, and sources of raw materials were all

locally based. The product served the local need for

low-cost energy and at the same time brought jobs

and revenues to the area.

Shared culture

Castells (1983) writes of the destructive impact on

city movements when issues are defined in a onedimensional, ideological fashion. He terms cities

reflecting these struggles as “urban shadows.” They

simply become political arenas for partisan organizations. Successful urban movements instead require the

resolution of diverse interests and the sharing of a new

value system. “[O]nly when the bureaucratic city, the

merchant city, the professional city, and the working

class city will agree on an alternative model of government can a city . . . rely on a stable majority supporting

social change. And these very diverse interests can only

be reconciled when a new set of cultural values are

shared” (Castells, 1983: 255). Through the process of

reconciling diverse interests and defining a common

cultural heritage, a neighborhood is able to effectively

deal with political forces in ways that increase rather

than compromise its autonomy.

Sister Ferre, the founder of the Ponce Playa Project,

in Ponce Playa, Puerto Rico, initiated a photography

program for all youths in the area after a number of

cameras were donated by Kodak. To Sister Ferre, the

main point was not simply to teach photography skills

but to develop a greater awareness of family, friends,

and neighbors, the subjects of the photos. This related

to the objective that “[T]he community realizes that

its own full development depends on the fulfillment of

its members” (Ferre, 1987: 34).

Trist (1986) relates that the JALMC initiative developed through a perceived need for change rather than

through design. It was described as a gradual, cumulative, but incomplete movement toward establishing a

culture based on symbiotic relationships among organizations, groups, and individuals. In such a culture,

interdependence and collaboration would qualify

and constrain individualism and competition (Trist,

1986: 236–237). JALMC became the symbol of a new
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culture. The words labor-management were repeated

liturgically on innumerable occasions in many settings (Trist, 1986: 227). The meaning gained clarity

over time as specific actions were taken by the committee. Such actions collectively served as the theme

of the emerging culture (Trist, 1986).

Quality of dialogue

Possibly the most subtle aspect of bringing about

neighborhood revitalization concerns the manner and

quality of communication. Are various actors talking

past each other or is there instead an equal sharing

of ideas across differing perspectives and positions?

Leadership skills can be essential in pointing out mutual interests and in empowering others, rather than

focusing on one’s own powers and interests.

Stanley Lundine, the mayor of Jamestown, New York,

in the 1970s, played a critical role in the formation of

JALMC. What had been an industrial environment

marked by severe conflict was transformed to an

atmosphere of cooperation. Lundine’s credibility as

the initial leader of this effort was based on his strong

stand for government activism in solving Jamestown’s

economic problems. With the support he had from

both labor and management, Lundine set a tone where

both sides could talk and feel like they were being

heard by the other (Meek, 1985). It was in this climate

of trust that the ceremonial activities, such as dinners,

conferences, and picnics, paved the way for labor and

management agreement in project-oriented activities

(Trist, 1986).

Pittsburgh was able to avoid economic disaster following the steel plant closings of the 1980s, largely due to

the tradition of constructive dialogue and cooperation

between the public and private sectors. The city was

able to quickly form the necessary alliances and structures to enable it to rebound from the loss of 100,000

manufacturing jobs. Pittsburgh invested in its universities, hospitals, and advanced technology firms and

was able to regain many of the lost jobs. This economic

strategy was undertaken concurrently with a strategy to

preserve the neighborhoods (Fainstein, 1990).

The mayor of Pittsburgh during the 1970s, Peter

Flaherty, was attuned to neighborhood groups and insisted that city officials retain an open dialogue with

them. Such groups became an important part of city

politics. This attitude was seen as instrumental in

establishing the partnerships necessary for the economic transformation required after the collapse of

the steel industry. Those with different perspectives

and interests were able to work together toward a

common goal and resisted the tendency to pursue

their own factional interests (Fainstein, 1990).

Enhancing the level of dialogue in a neighborhood

requires multiway communication and a willingness

of all parties to be influenced by others. Particularly

in the early stages of community building, dialogue

building will include the ability of parties to endure

messy and angry meetings (Weingart et al., 1994).

In the Cedar Riverside (Minneapolis) neighborhood

redevelopment efforts, neighbors were so committed

to dialogue that they were willing to meet all night to

reach consensus, rather than settle for compromises

and vote taking (Stoecker, 1994).

One of the major threats to community building is the

frequent association in American culture of community with cooperative, peaceful communication. Many

central authority officials will short-circuit communications with a neighborhood if the initial meetings are

full of anger and resentment. Such impatience simply

leads to continuation of one-way communication. At

other times, nonlocal officials with a commitment to

due process and inclusion may need to urge some

neighborhood groups to include other local groups

that are being ignored. Dialogue can break down both

within a neighborhood and between the neighborhood

and critical outsiders.

The police and sustained

community

Prospects for community policing will depend on the

structure of the urban struggle in a particular city, and

even a particular neighborhood, at a particular time.

Expectations abstracted from this context will not make

a great deal of sense. Expectations about community

policing can be seen as pressures for local police

departments to manifest or support particular values

toward the use of space in the urban struggle. In other

words, community policing, or any other form of policing, is likely to be only one more negotiation in an

ongoing struggle to define community.

Community policing is not invented out of whole

cloth. Expectations for community policing will be

partially shaped by institutional memories of the

urban struggle as implementation unfolds. Therefore,
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the interpretation of community policing, by both the

police and others will include the:

● Particular variations of professional law enforcement in any specific city, as interpreted by both

those who have benefited and those who have not.

● Previous experiments by the department with

getting closer to neighborhoods and the results of

those attempts.

● Particular traditions of urban growth that have

surrounded the police department.

● Status of the local growth machine in competition

with other locations and whether the local political

opportunity structure is relatively closed to pressures from neighborhoods or, instead, has been

opened to coalitions between government and

neighborhoods because of visible failures for

growth politics to pay off as promised.

In relation to these local dynamics, additional factors

in determining how and whether community policing

unfolds in a particular place will be the pressures for

adoption of programs highly touted in the media, by

national experts, or by other levels of government.

Some of these pressures are part of the institutionalized environment of police departments, to which

departments may respond with formalized and

ceremonial acquiescence more than with substantive

change in how officers work (Crank and Langworthy,

1992; Manning, 1988). Other pressures are, or become, contractual obligations, as when police departments join a State or Federal program initiative in

exchange for resources and perhaps for more exacting

expectations and standards about performance components in implementation (Grinc, 1994).

Neighborhood interests will be only one of myriad

forces which may lead toward or away from adoption

of community policing or toward greater or lesser sincerity in the commitment to constituency building as

part of the community policing initiative. The police

will also find considerable variation in demand both

within and among neighborhoods (Whitaker et al.,

1982). Some neighborhoods will be more interested in

community policing than others, and not all neighborhood demands will be informed by systematic understandings of the urban struggle. Indeed, most will not.

Those that are not are far more likely to take their

cues from the police about what is appropriate to

expect of any form of policing. In most neighborhoods where there is some organized request for

police response, the most typical overture is the relatively unsophisticated and unspecific demand for

greater police presence (Whitaker et al., 1982;

Podolefsky, 1983) rather than for different forms of

policing or more involvement by neighborhood residents in control activities.

Most police departments have no systematic protocol

by which to assess and prioritize interactions with

community groups (Weingart et al., 1994: 11). While

community policing might theoretically include the

development of such a protocol, that innovation will

itself depend on the initial meanings attached to community policing both in and outside the department.

Unless a particular police department develops a

sophisticated, critical sense of urban structures and

learns to assess the status of various neighborhood

overtures within that framework, there will be tremendous pressures to adopt a version of community policing that promises the department the least departure

from current practice.

Community policing is generally presented as a

realignment of police with neighborhoods (Bayley,

1994). But is it a way of extending the influence and

dominance of the growth machine, by providing a

new approach to paying for the externalized costs of

growth? In other words, do neighborhoods get more

policing, or even more responsive policing, as a

tradeoff for continuing to suffer the negative effects

of economic isolation and profit maximization? Or is

community policing a way of providing neighborhoods with more power to impose use value premises

on the structure of city space, by supporting the process of constituency building in controlled neighborhoods? Is policing used to pacify neighborhoods or

does it become an active part of the process of constituency building?

Unfortunately, the available community policing

research does not permit more than preliminary,

and perhaps inaccurate, answers to these questions.

Despite exhortations that the neighborhood position in

the urban system must be specified to set the context

of police and citizen actions about crime issues

(Taylor, 1995) and that accounts of police interactions

in the community must be disaggregated to the neighborhood level to make much sense of means and

ends connections (Blumstein, 1995), most community

policing evaluations provide little if any direct
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evidence of conscious concern for the political

economy of neighborhoods (Hope, 1995; McGahey,

1986). Additionally, accounts of police practices give

insufficient detail about the nature of neighborhood

organizations to allow for systematic comparisons

of structure, activities, and mobilization strategies

(Skogan, 1988: 42–43). Under these limitations, the

current assessments of the process and objectives of

police-neighborhood interaction are little more than

suggestions for further study. Exhibit 2 lists the seven

dimensions of neighborhood sustainability and

provides examples of their relationship to existing

community policing projects.

Internal coordination

Internal coordination in a neighborhood can be

improved through the linkages community policing

officers establish with other municipal and government agencies. These linkages facilitate residential

referrals to social service agencies and help to coordinate quality of life and law enforcement activities.

The community policing program at the Stonegate

housing community in Fairfax, Virginia, for example,

required community policing officers to make

referrals to social service agencies as a part of their

problem-solving activities. These officers were assisted by the availability of counselors and other social service providers at the project site. Establishing

working relationships with these service providers

enabled community policing officers to give residents

information on available drug treatment programs, as

well as family counseling, education, and health and

child care services (Baranyk, 1994). Similar coordination is reported in Spokane, Washington (Giacomazzi

et al., 1993: 97).

Exhibit 2. Examples of Police Effects on Neighborhood Sustainability

Variable Program

Internal coordination Increased planning and coordination among police and social

services in Fairfax, Virginia, Austin, Texas, and Spokane,

Washington; among police and city agencies in Brooklyn,

New York, and Baltimore, Maryland; among residents and

businesses in Seattle; but increased conflict in Houston and

Minneapolis.

External linkage Connection of neighborhoods to each other and to city central

offices in Seattle; negative effects in Lawrence, Massachusetts;

no change in Madison, Wisconsin, and Richmond, Virginia.

Limits on exchange value Pressure on landlords and drug dealers in many cities; police

and business planning merged in Portland, Oregon.

Self-correcting process evaluation Seattle SSCPC works on inclusion; Fairfax and Fort Worth,

Texas, concerned about group satisfaction; Madison loses

concern for problem solving.

Autonomy Seattle institutionalizes neighborhood planning councils, but

in Philadelphia neighborhood-oriented managers are transferred;

in Lawrence and Boston, neighbors urged to be eyes and ears for

the police.

Shared culture Shared concern for environment in Austin; lack of concern for

place reduces control efforts in Philadelphia.

Dialogue Two-way planning in Flint, Michigan, and Seattle; no conflict

resolution in Lawrence; no sustained groups in Madison.
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Similarly, in Austin, Texas, the simultaneous adoption

of Total Quality Management (TQM) by both the

police department (as an integral part of its community policing program) and all city agencies brought

about a high degree of cooperation and coordination

among the police department and other city agencies.

With these linkages, the Austin community policing

project could incorporate into their customer service

model an array of services that were outside of traditional law enforcement activities. They then also

had the capacity to assess the effectiveness of problem-solving strategies that took advantage of other

interventions than the choice of arrest or nonarrest.

Designers of the community policing program in

Austin believed that the simultaneous adoption of

TQM by the police department and other city agencies would cultivate a shared vision of what the city

should be doing and where it should be going. This

shared vision was also viewed as increasing the

effectiveness of services to Austin residents (Barton,

1993: 22).

Linkages with other municipal agencies also helped to

coordinate quality of life and law enforcement activities. Linkages with city agencies enabled community

policing officers in Spokane to take action against

conditions in the neighborhood that contributed to its

deterioration. Community policing officers surveyed

the neighborhoods for boarded-up buildings that

might invite exploration by children and accommodate transients, areas in need of sidewalks, and

streets and alleys in need of repair (Giacomazzi et al.,

1993: 98). This information was forwarded to the

appropriate city agency, and requests for services

were tracked over time to verify that improvements

occurred. Similarly in Brooklyn, New York, and Baltimore, Maryland, community policing officers worked

closely with city sanitation departments to remove

abandoned and derelict vehicles (Pate, 1994: 405)

and to seal empty buildings (Skogan, 1994: 169).

Internal coordination is not limited to tightening the

exchanges among agencies in a neighborhood. In

Seattle, the initial impetus of community policing

came from a particular set of neighborhoods through

an organization dominated by their business elite.

Process evaluation data indicate that the police were

instrumental in community unification by insisting

that the original business group seek minority resident

members. The business group responded with a successful, more inclusive membership drive (Fleissner et

al., 1991).

There is evidence from other community policing efforts that coordination has not always worked so well.

Some departments have expended tremendous energy

and thought in attempts to implement new policing

strategies in controlled neighborhoods. Studies of a

few of these (Newark, New Jersey, Houston, Texas,

and Minneapolis, Minnesota) suggest that these programs were more likely to involve middle-class residents than the poor and sometimes created dissension

within the neighborhood (Sherman, 1986; Skogan,

1990). In Seattle and elsewhere, police pressures on

other city agencies, on behalf of the neighborhood,

resulted in resentment from the other agencies and

concerns that some neighborhoods would receive

special treatment.

External linkages

The external linkage most likely to be affected in

policing efforts is between the neighborhood and

the police department itself. However, the level and

effects of that linkage may vary considerably. The

literature indicates that the process of involving the

police in neighborhood organizing is limited, superficial, and in numerous instances, demoralizing for both

the police and citizens.

Goldstein (1987: 24–25) suggested that involvement

could range from citizens serving as eyes and ears for

the police, through citizens providing consultation and

advice, to active citizen participation in determining

how the people are to be policed. This potential range

appears to be truncated in practice to the lower end of

the continuum, with a few notable exceptions, such as

Seattle (Fleissner et al., 1991). Buerger (1994: 416)

indicates that even when citizens expend considerable

energy, their involvement is limited to meeting traditional police objectives.

A recent examination of community policing in Richmond, Virginia, where there is apparently greater concern on the part of the department than in many other

cities for changing the police-neighborhood linkage,

still concluded that officers “who embraced community policing responded, not as delegates of the community, but more like trustees of the neighborhood

welfare” determined by their own standards (Worden

et al., 1994: 556–557).
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A number of studies have found that, despite

rhetoric about greater community responsiveness by

departments, police are often resistant to stronger

connections with neighborhoods. They have understandable concerns about losing control of internal

resource allocation decisions and trepidation that

uninformed and overzealous community groups will

demand behavior from the police that is unconstitutional. But departments may hide behind such excuses

rather than seek greater linkage. In several accounts,

the police were prodded to respond only when the

neighborhood group threatened to embarrass the

police in the media (Fleissner et al., 1991; Weingart

et al., 1994).

Despite these problems, there are instances of

increased linkage and increased resources in both

directions. For example, the police may provide

resources for local neighborhood organizations. In

Newark, community policing officers made their

storefront substation available to neighborhood block

organizations for meetings. Neighborhood meetings

at the storefront gave community policing officers an

opportunity to interface with neighborhood groups.

(Pate et al., 1986: 7) In Portland, Oregon, the chief of

police reported that selecting the site for a new precinct station included neighborhood involvement in

choosing the site and in designing the structure to

include space for new neighborhood businesses.

In return, neighborhoods have the potential to generate new resources for the police, such as in residential

tax increases earmarked for the police. In Flint,

Michigan, for example, the success of the neighborhood foot patrol prompted residents to approve a special tax to continue the foot patrols at the expiration

of the community policing experiment. The citizens

were not prepared at that time to end what they

viewed as a successful crime prevention program

(Trojanowicz, 1986: 174).

Limits on exchange value

Policing initiatives may have small but direct and

important effects on limiting profit maximization and

inserting use value in the use of space. In Seattle and

elsewhere, civil abatement programs involving the

police and neighborhood organizations have placed

pressure on landlords who were careless in tenant

selection or oblivious to drug dealing on their properties. Direct assault on illegal profit taking is also

important. Citizen groups, especially those with police support, have been successful in disrupting and

closing drug markets (Weingart et al., 1994).

Self-correcting process evaluation

An example of how to increase the self-reflective

quality of neighborhood organizations can be seen in

the community policing program undertaken in Flint,

Michigan, Fairfax, Virginia, and Fort Worth, Texas. In

Flint, community policing officers were expected to

encourage citizens to work together in neighborhood

associations or citizens’ watch groups for their mutual

support and protection (Trojanowicz, 1986: 160). A

more hands-on organizing approach by community

policing officers occurred in Fairfax and Fort Worth.

In Fairfax, community policing officers held regular

meetings with core residents of the Stonegate housing

community. These residents were viewed as having

some degree of social influence. At these meetings,

they were given an opportunity to express what they

believed to be the most pressing issues in the housing

community. After a number of meetings, the community policing officers helped to organize residents into

an informal tenants’ association. This group was then

encouraged to solicit the support of other residents in

addressing neighborhood problems (Baranyk, 1994:

31–32).

Similarly, in the Fort Worth neighborhood crime

watch groups and citizens’ patrol project, a process

goal was to simulate a small-town feel and involvement of community residents by making information

available to organized blocks and neighborhoods as

events occurred. It was believed that this would

enable residents to participate more fully in their

own protection and security (Givens, 1993: 9).

In general, however, police organizations are themselves poorly equipped to deal with organizational

health and renewal (Bayley, 1994; Couper and Lobitz,

1991; Wycoff and Skogan, 1993), and their members

are poorly trained to instill self-corrective processes

in neighborhood organizations. They are likely to provide more attention to the crime and disorder objectives faced at the moment than to whether the means

of reaching these objectives also builds a sustainable

neighborhood organization. Not only are the police

underconcerned with important morale, belonging,

and satisfaction issues, but they also may demand
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that neighborhood organizations adhere to stifling

bureaucratic procedures (Hope, 1995: 47–48; Grinc,

1994: 442).

Autonomy

Consistent with the general theory of neighborhood

organizing about noncrime issues (Bursik and

Grasmick, 1993: 150), there is some evidence that

attempts to increase involvement of citizens in community policing is far more superficial and has more

negative consequences for neighborhood autonomy

when the initiative is undertaken by the police

department rather than by the neighborhood (Grinc,

1994: 445–451). Police attempts to initiate contact are

often limited to information dissemination sessions

about the proposed (and preplanned) program, during

which the police misinterpret large audiences as increased citizen participation (Grinc, 1994: 451). The

most thorough account of citizen-initiated community

policing (Fleissner et al., 1991) suggests that citizen

involvement is more multidimensional and includes

more mutual decisionmaking when the citizens are

pulling rather than the police pushing.

The police, like any other agency of the state, have

considerable control over one nonfinancial resource

critical to neighborhood organizations: the ability to

take them seriously. These organizations become

constituencies for the police only if they are taken

seriously. Signs of constituency status include the

department granting access to senior officials, departmental willingness to share decisionmaking, and

departmental efforts in providing information (Duffee,

1984; Fleissner et al., 1991: 15; and Weingart et al.,

1994: 14). Granting such access enhances the autonomy of the neighborhood group because its influence is increased.

Increasing the autonomy of neighborhood groups does

not necessarily reduce the autonomy and influence of

the police organization. Indeed, some reports suggest it

may increase it (Fleissner et al., 1991: 70–80). When

the autonomy of the neighborhood is enhanced, neighborhood groups engage in partnership roles, and residents may have greater access to the media, legislators,

and public and private businesses. In Seattle, the partnership established between the police and the South

Seattle Crime Prevention Council (SSCPC) not only

helped decentralize the Seattle Police Department (giving the South Precinct more control over its activities)

but also provided the department with additional clout

to influence crime legislation and the municipal budget

(Fleissner et al., 1991: 96). Consequently, autonomy

for neighborhoods may increase police influence over

other central actors who are sympathetic to the neighborhood rather than to the police.

Shared culture

By recognizing the cultural and environmental

uniqueness of the neighborhoods they work in, community policing officers help to establish a shared

identity that can in turn facilitate the development of

shared goals and objectives. In Austin, the environment provided a quality of life that is viewed by its

residents as their most precious resource. This shared

view of Austin facilitates citizens’ involvement in preserving their neighborhoods. The citizens in Austin

vigorously defend any intrusion on the quality of the

environment and on the safety and security of their

neighborhoods (Barton, 1993: 21). Recognizing these

sentiments, the community policing effort in Austin is

attempting to utilize them to maintain the quality of

life.

Dialogue

Establishing mutually beneficial communication between residents and the police is one of the primary

goals of community policing. Information received

from police can help neighborhood residents best utilize their local resources to assist in crime prevention

activities. Information received from residents can

help the police target problems that are of the greatest

concern to neighborhood residents. In addition, information from residents helps police identify individuals or groups engaged in criminal activity.

The quality of dialogue between neighborhood residents and police departments about community policing may become an issue before the initiation of a new

strategy in a neighborhood or during its implementation. In the planning stages, the issue is whether the

residents have influence in the design of the effort.

During implementation, the issue becomes the level

of ongoing participation in policing decisions. Do the

police welcome only eyes-and-ears information, or are

they prepared to engage in two-way communication

about problem solving and evaluation?

Examples of communication between the neighborhood and the police prior to implementation are found
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in Seattle, Washington, Madison, Wisconsin, and

Flint, Michigan. In Seattle, for example, prior to

implementing community policing, members of

SSCPC and the precinct commanders from the South

Precinct met regularly to discuss ways to improve

police services (Fleissner et al., 1991: 61). These

meetings eventually built trust and cooperation among

the police and members of SSCPC. Police discussions

with residents included sharing information that

was traditionally viewed as sensitive and highly

confidential.

In Madison, neighborhood residents and the Madison

police department had a 15-year history of negotiations and discussions about ways to improve policing.

Madison residents have always been concerned with

quality of life issues (Couper and Lobitz, 1991: 86).

Immediately preceding the implementation of community policing in Madison, community meetings

were set up to give residents some input into identifying and prioritizing neighborhood problems (Couper

and Lobitz, 1991: 86). However, in the implementation of the experimental police district, dialogue did

not seem to carry over to implementation. Police

reported too little time to engage in problem solving,

and the police tended to engage the community as

individual customers rather than as organized neighborhoods (Wycoff and Skogan, 1993).

In Flint, many efforts were made by the police department to avoid imposing a program on the population

(Trojanowicz, 1986: 160). Citywide meetings were

held for 2 years prior to the start of the program. The

goal was to solicit the neighborhoods’ views on how

the program should function and to keep neighbors

informed on the program’s progress.

A more frequent approach is reported in Lawrence,

Massachusetts. Discussions primarily focused on information provided by neighborhood residents on the

criminal activities of specific individuals or groups.

The newly created citizen advisory committee was

ostensibly designed by developers of the community

policing project in Lawrence to provide residents with

a forum to communicate their concerns with the community policing officers. Instead, its role was limited

to providing the police of Lawrence with information

on criminal activities in the area. Members of the

advisory committee essentially functioned as the eyes

and ears of the Lawrence police department

(Bazemore and Cole, 1994: 132).

In contrast, the most successful case in maintaining

real dialogue appears to be Seattle. There, neighborhood committees have been organized throughout the

city, supported by tax dollars, with the expectation

that citizen groups will engage actively in target selection, tactical choices, and evaluation of control efforts

(National Institute of Justice [NIJ], 1992). This kind

of organization was not developed without conflict.

The project’s evaluators ask whether both the police

and community groups are prone to interpret conflict

as lack of community and to give up on dialogue

rather than engage in conflict resolution. Neither

community participants nor the police may be well

equipped with sufficient time, knowledge about structural sources of conflict, or skills in conflict resolution, to remain committed once conflict is heard

(Fleissner et al., 1991).

In summary, there are numerous anecdotal accounts

suggesting both positive and negative impacts of

community policing efforts on internal coordination,

external linkages, limits on exchange value, selfcorrective process evaluation, autonomy, shared

culture, and dialogue. Since no existing accounts of

community policing conceptualize these impacts on

specific dimensions of community, it is impossible to

tell how multidimensional any one implementation

effort is or to compare one city to another on common

dimensions with a uniform measure. Moreover, we

cannot assess whether the positive impacts on neighborhood sustainability variables are more frequent

than the negative impacts. The process evaluations,

however, do provide strong evidence that the implementation of community policing can be conceptualized as a complex process in which police and

neighborhoods interact along all seven of these

dimensions.

Prospects and strategies for

sustaining constituency

The police must provide services, enforce the law,

and control, if not reduce, disorder regardless of the

direction in which a neighborhood is moving and of

whether the policing efforts are complemented by

other efforts to strengthen community or operate in

isolation from other urban policies and practices. One

of the most critical problems, then, in any attempt to

alter police strategy, is that the police do not control

all the elements crucial to the success of a strategy
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and must proceed despite counterproductive trends

among the elements they do not control. The police

may be sincere in efforts to improve community but

find little community with which to work.

Despite this difficulty, cynicism about the potential

for reinvention of policing and significant increases

in police effectiveness are mistaken. The conclusion

that nothing works is itself an action prescription—to

leave the desperate to their own devices much to the

benefit of the winners of the urban struggle. The

examination of the variables that renew and sustain

neighborhoods indicates that urban improvements are

possible, if difficult. The review of police effects on

those same neighborhood variables suggests that all

of them can be increased or improved through police

action. But the same review indicates that most policing programs involving community often ignore

whether the neighborhood is restructured. On occasion, there are negative rather than positive effects on

these variables.

How community policing will fare as a strategy will

ultimately depend on whether neighborhoods improve

rather than on whether the police perform well. Therefore, the police must become more cognizant of these

neighborhood characteristics, on the trends among

them across and within neighborhoods, and on the

most effective time to deploy one policing strategy or

another in each neighborhood, contingent on the developmental position of each locality. One size will

not fit all.

Because of the typical dynamic of the urban struggle

and the fact that the police department is a part of that

struggle, affected by the same forces as other units

of the city, the police will covertly and explicitly be

pressured to be more concerned with some neighborhood characteristics than others. The growth machine

and the professional law enforcement bureaucracy

that developed as part of growth politics will both

benefit from particular values on these variables. For

example, they would prefer that:

● Internal coordination be incomplete and limited to

improving informal coordination among neighbors,

rather than also coordinating public and private

agencies and policies. Too much attention to policy

coordination could demonstrate that many urban

policies do not benefit neighborhoods, especially

poor neighborhoods. Attention to any policies other

than law enforcement itself will be criticized as

nonprofessional.

● External linkages be limited—the police should

concentrate on police-neighborhood relationships.

Linkages among neighborhoods will be seen as

politically threatening to the power of downtown

corporate interests and to the control by central

offices of State agencies.

● There be no limits on exchange value and no

threats to competitive claims on urban space that

would limit extracting value from it. Economic

policies that are responsive to neighborhood effects

of economic decisions will be criticized as bad for

growth. Police concern for quality of life in neighborhoods will be criticized as social work.

● Self-corrective process evaluations be limited.

Crime control should focus on immediate crime

and disorder objectives. Neighborhood groups

should not become more conscious of the relationship of neighborhood politics and crime. Neighborhood organization, sustained beyond its crime

control rationale, may become politically active

and critical of centralized power and resources.

● Autonomy be kept on the lower end of the spectrum. Control efforts should be organized for the

convenience of the experts in central administrations. Greater services for neighborhoods may be

begrudgingly granted, but greater influence of

neighborhoods over the defining of service will be

resisted. No other dimension of city life is more

threatening to bureaucracy than autonomy of

constituency groups in neighborhoods.

● Shared culture be the focus of neighborhood improvement. The growth machine and professional

law enforcement will stress the culture-based

solution to crime and disorder, since it is consistent

with the notion that neighborhoods cause their own

problems. Political or economic steps, which alter

external linkages and autonomy, to facilitate and

nurture shared culture will be resisted.

● Dialogue be limited. Central powers should plan

and neighborhoods should accept the well-crafted

ideas of planners. A dialogue that requires interactive and responsive policing will be resisted as too

cumbersome and expensive. Dialogue that includes

venting of frustration and anger will be used as
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evidence that the community is deteriorating, not

improving.

The current evaluations of community policing implementations suggest that these kinds of limiting effects

on neighborhood sustainability are not only possible

but common. However, there is also evidence that,

in some neighborhoods, development of partnerships

between the police and neighborhood groups is also

possible. When partnership is actively sought, there

would appear to be more conscious attention paid to

these positive variables and more conscious attempts

to increase them. In this case, the values preferred are

that:

● Police interact with other city agencies and the private sector to promote holistic attention to life in a

neighborhood. There is evidence that the police can

occasionally provide encouragement for residents

in neighborhoods to be more inclusive themselves

and to form organizations that represent most

neighborhood interests.

● Neighborhoods should be linked to share common

concerns and problem strategies and should have

greater access to a variety of State services.

● Quality of life in neighborhoods may need to

include setting limits on the exchange value that

space might represent to individuals. Not all negative effects of growth can be externalized and paid

for by resident bystanders or by the State.

● The self-correcting evaluation capacity of neighborhood organization should be improved. Partnership includes concern not only for what was done

but how it was done: Did the neighborhood learn

from this project how to solve other problems? Did

neighbors become more committed through participation? Did they end up angry and exhausted?

● Autonomy of neighborhoods should be increased,

and the quality of State services should be judged

by neighborhoods, not the bureaucracy. Increased

autonomy for neighborhoods can actually enhance

the ability of State officials to do their work.

● Shared culture is necessary but not sufficient.

Opportunities for shared culture should be identified in all neighborhood undertakings; processes

for achieving specific objectives (such as crime or

disorder control) must also include time for social

rewards and celebration of belonging to a place.

Culture without restructuring is fragile.

● Dialogue must be pursued, even if less timeconsuming means of dealing with particular issues

appear to be available. Improved external linkages

without dialogue decrease chances for autonomy.

Internal coordination without dialogue reduces

chances of shared culture.

The prospects for achieving the higher rather than the

lower values on these variables are not good, but they

are not bleak. To take community seriously and to

take steps to empower neighborhoods represent commitments and actions that are contrary to 50 years of

urban politics and policing tradition. But history does

not write the future.

Police departments can take some independent steps

to enhance sustainability, but they cannot do very

much on their own. They also need to encourage independent action by other components of the State, by

the private sector, and, very importantly, by neighborhoods. If neighborhood sustainability is left to the

police, it will not endure.

Some research, planning, and policing strategies

may increase the chances for increasing rather than

decreasing the values of these variables.

First, a serious, sustained effort is necessary to obtain

reasonably valid, reliable, and feasible measures of

these neighborhood characteristics. While interest in

the measurement of neighborhood indicators and

police investment in gathering nonarrest data have

increased, it would appear that greater attention is

still given to police-relevant outcomes (fear, disorder,

crime) than to measures of how the police, or the

neighborhood with the police, achieved or failed to

achieve those outcomes. Investment in measuring

structures and processes will be important for outcome precision to have any strategic meaning.

If measures for these neighborhood variables can be

developed, then it is critical to also develop an assessment of their prevalence in policing programs. As

policing evaluations stand now, it is possible to find

illustrations of police effects on these variables, but it

is impossible to gauge prevalence. Left to their own

devices, the police are less likely to be concerned

about these neighborhood effects than the neighborhoods themselves. Empowering neighborhood organi-
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David E. Duffee, Reginald Fluellen, and Thomas Roscoe

zations to employ measurements of neighborhood

effects from policing and other urban programs is

more likely to institutionalize commitments to these

neighborhood qualities where they matter most, in the

neighborhoods themselves.

Since the police, like any other agency of the State,

have jurisdiction over many neighborhoods that will

differ considerably on these variables, the chief police

executive will be faced with constant pressures to “do

something now,” even though what can and should

realistically be done will vary from neighborhood to

neighborhood. The tendencies among police agencies

will be to adopt programs jurisdictionwide despite the

varying qualities of neighborhoods or to target neighborhoods most in need, as defined by the department.

Both tendencies pressure police to predetermine how

to interact with a neighborhood and, only after services are planned, to disseminate the plan to the locality. These approaches have rarely worked in the past,

but they relieve the pressure to do something and failures can be blamed on specific neighborhoods. If the

police recognized the multidimensional character of

neighborhood-building processes and could measure

these dimensions, they could use these data in deciding which neighborhoods were ready for what and in

explaining those choices.

The data on police-neighborhood interaction, while

presently sketchy, suggest that the police cannot build

neighborhood constituency but can take constituency

behavior seriously when it occurs. If the police want

to take neighborhoods seriously, they can include a

means to scan the neighborhoods continuously for

trends in sustainability, and they can be ready to

respond when invited. A neighborhood’s attempts to

influence policing should be read as one indicator of

readiness for partnership, even, or perhaps particularly, when those influence attempts include criticism,

however rancorous.

Finally, the review of the research on the urban context of community policing suggests that the police,

as a city agency, will be affected by many of the same

forces in the urban struggle that affect urban neighborhoods. An important task in community policing

research would be the construction of a theory about

how the political economy of cities affects the form

and substance of community policing. In this concluding section, we have sketched in broad strokes two

different scenarios: one where the growth machine is

strong and police are likely to give superficial attention to neighborhoods and to stress the causes of

crime and disorder that arise from within the neighborhood, and another where the growth machine is

weaker or has been replaced by a quality of life

regime and the police are more likely to treat neighborhoods as important political constituencies that

have influence over city policies and reshape urban

services. Clearly, the variations in community policing are much finer and more complex than this sketch

can capture. But if we can specify more systematically how police interact with neighborhoods, then we

can also begin to examine the urban forces that affect

the quality of that interaction. Only at that point can

we begin to sort out the noise from the melody in the

huge variety of sounds that are now considered community policing.

I would like to acknowledge the assistance and expertise of Warren Friedman, Stuart Scheingold, and John

Crank, who read and provided valuable insights on

the earliest drafts of this paper. —David E. Duffee

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Community Policing: What Is the

Community and What Can It Do?

Nevertheless, progress in forging police-community

collaboration remains fragile and reversible. There is

little agreement about exactly what community policing is or what should be expected of it. Nor is there

consensus about what the community is or what can

be expected of it. Little wonder, then, that there is

confusion about why and how progress has been

achieved.

Expectations

In cities where community policing has been aggressively pursued, community expectations of police

have shifted over the past decade. In the early 1980s,

it is fair to say, one of two attitudes prevailed among

many urban residents, especially community leaders.

Many had come to see local crime and disorder as

products of large forces beyond the reach of local law

enforcement. Coupled with tensions and mistrust left

over from the 1960s and 1970s, city residents often

were grateful if local police simply did not make

things worse. On the other hand, many saw public

safety as the job of the police alone. “We pay taxes,

we pay their wages, let them do it,” were refrains in

many communities that focused narrowly on government accountability. In either case, “partnership” and

“collaborative problem solving” were not the slogans

of the day.

Today, much grassroots activity still remains based on

outmoded, incident-driven strategies. In most American communities, ordinary citizens report crime and

act as witnesses, but they play little further visible

part in preventing or reducing crime. These roles as

“eyes and ears” of the police are not insignificant. But

in some communities, grassroots activity has been far

more proactive, creative, and courageous.

The existence of active community anticrime work—

often, but not always, undertaken in sync with socalled community policing—is a reality check on the

common charge of community apathy in America.

Even perfect partnerships between the community

and police are only part of the answer to the crime

that haunts many of America’s neighborhoods. Nevertheless, belief in the power of collaboration is more

than just an article of faith. Over the past decade, it

has become clear that urban communities can and will

mobilize against crime and drugs. Despite decades of

serious tensions and hostility between police and residents in many neighborhoods, serious effort can forge

bonds of cooperation, mutual respect, and trust even

in the most crime-ridden communities.

Progress, however, has not been even. Hostility between communities and law enforcement continues

in many areas. Many cities have failed to join the

movement toward improved police-community cooperation, while others appear to have only adopted the

rhetoric of community policing as a way of accessing

Federal funds.

At the same time, hundreds of urban neighborhoods

have organized fresh anticrime efforts and discovered

new, more effective ways of working with local law

enforcement. Many police and prosecutors who are

responsible for these neighborhoods have adopted

more results- and community-oriented ways of tackling such tough crime problems as open-air drug trafficking and gang violence. In the best of cases, these

efforts have led to community-police collaboration

that has permanently closed crack houses, eliminated

drug markets, and sustained long-term reductions in

violent crime levels.

Today, it is broadly accepted that, working together,

community, police, and other institutions can reduce

neighborhood crime. There is widespread acceptance—and even praise—of community-police

collaboration. This is clear from the lists of reasons

provided by scholars, elected officials, and police

chiefs for the recent declines in most crime categories.

Along with changing demographics and stabilized

crack markets, almost everybody’s list mentions

smarter policing and the role of the community.

Warren Friedman and Michael Clark
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Community Policing: What Is the Community and What Can It Do?

The best of this work challenges the common casting

of the police as the sole agent of positive change.

Throughout the United States, community anticrime

efforts serve as a source of information about what

most concerns a community: what kinds of roles the

community has and will continue to choose for itself,

and who must be negotiated with if policing is to have

a progressive future.

In cities where it has been enthusiastically marketed,

community policing has led to a shift in attitudes and

rising expectations. Urban residents in many cities

today expect the police to be visibly present on their

streets, problem oriented (that is, to try to eliminate

crime problems, not just respond to complaints and

make arrests), available for and interested in working

with local residents as partners, accountable through

periodic updates for what is being done to solve problems, and concerned with the prevention of crime.

In well-informed and well-organized communities,

police departments are increasingly expected to

understand the community as a partner, prepare

department personnel for their part in the partnership

process, and support officers in the process. Veteran

community organizations expect the police to know

them and understand that they have the capacity to

solve crimes and other problems. Vacant lots can be

cleaned up, housing problems addressed, young

people reached, services provided, serious criminal

activity checked, and opportunities expanded through

organized community efforts.

Veteran community organizations, many of whom

have years of experience in anticrime work, have begun to recognize and demand significant departmental

commitment to community policing, including: (1) a

focus on serious crime-solving results, (2) periodic,

practical training for police officers, (3) support for

the training of community leaders, (4) a focus on

behavior change and measurable results, (5) involvement of the community at the most decentralized

level, (6) outspoken policy support from departmental

leaders and the city administration, and (7) a voice in

policies that set the department’s direction so that

community policing evolves to match the needs of

neighborhoods.

Community roles

The literature, promotional materials, and discussions

of community policing are full of phrases like “problem-solving partnerships,” “coproduction of safety,”

“working together,” and “democracy in action.” But,

despite the rhetoric, members of the community

remain generally cast in relatively passive roles as

“eyes and ears” of the police, reactive sources of information about crime. They are still primarily viewed

as potential witnesses, much as they were under traditional policing. Partnerships are too often operationally defined as a few people chosen by police officials

to sit around a table and advise, usually those who

have the time and inclination and with whom a department is comfortable. The division of labor in the

relationship often assigns crimefighting to the police

and neighborhood cleanup to the community.

A great deal of potential progress is lost in this minimal view of the community role in anticrime work.

Police officials and criminal justice researchers seem

to have little sense of community traditions of selfhelp and mobilization as they relate to community

policing. This passive view of citizens ignores

widespread examples throughout the country—and

throughout American history—of people taking

responsibility and launching their own efforts against

crime. In fact, during the 1980s and 1990s in urban

America, side by side with the development of new

problem-solving methodologies by law enforcement

and new theories of community policing, there has

arisen a deeper and broader grassroots tradition of

active community anticrime work.

Yet, the new community sophistication and activism

regarding crime is in danger of disappearing. Most of

the dialogue on public safety continues to be carried

on without the actors and initiators of this activity,

those who are most knowledgeable about communities—community leaders, professional organizers,

and ordinary neighborhood activists. As a result,

practitioners on both sides of the potential partnership

continue to have an unclear view of community-police

collaboration as a strategy or of its particular targets,

strengths, and weaknesses.

The danger is that victories that are not understood

are unlikely to be replicated. Today, when urban police and community residents team up to solve serious

neighborhood crime problems, the history of those
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Warren Friedman and Michael Clark

victories is too often misunderstood. As a result, those

who care deeply about making inner cities safer usually do not fully understand the success stories or

know how to repeat them.

When neighborhood residents and police work

together successfully to resolve a high-priority crime

problem, a variety of explanations are offered

publicly, usually by a law enforcement spokesperson:

● The “officer friendly” explanation. The police

are getting more sensitive to the feelings of the

community. Since they are friendlier, people trust

them and will work with them. Police officers smiling, attending church breakfasts, helping kids or

the elderly, and attending large numbers of community meetings are generally cited as evidence

of progress. The underlying logic is: When community residents trust the police more, residents

will support them, acting as good witnesses individually or occasionally playing an organized 

eyes-and-ears role regarding a specific crime. The

police can then do their job better.

This explanation confuses community policing

(police and community working together to reduce

crime) with community relations (police better

communicating what they do to improve public

opinion and support). It also fails to recognize that,

over time, trust in the police is usually an outcome

of reducing crime and increasing genuine collaboration rather than public relations gimmicks.

● The “more is better” explanation. There are

more police, or they are smarter and better

equipped. New technology, new enforcement

tactics, new management strategies, and additional

or reinforced personnel are the sole reasons

for success. Although police organization and

management certainly matter, such explanations

unfortunately evoke the image of the cavalry riding

to the rescue, whether the cavalry is new managers,

new officers, new computers, or new management

approaches. This explanation focuses exclusively

on the “better policing” side of the equation, ignoring new resources, strategies, and tactics brought to

the table by organized communities.

● The “beat cop is back” explanation. The spread

of new police-community collaboration in hundreds of urban neighborhoods is nothing more than

a return to older traditions in policing. According

to this explanation, before the mid-20th century,

one cop walked (or cycled or motor scootered or

rode) around a fairly small geographic neighborhood on a regular beat until everyone on the beat

knew and respected him. (It was almost always

“him.”) “My granddad did community policing,”

can frequently be heard from adherents of this

view.

All these explanations, while containing some truth,

are misleading in their exclusive focus on new styles

of policing. Sadly, little systematic analysis has been

devoted to digesting the significance of new styles of

community action and organization or new forms of

police-community collaboration, which together constitute the “other half” of community policing success

stories.

Occasional triumphs, therefore, are not turned into

conditions for sustained, citywide collaboration. Few

know how to create community policing departments

in which partnership with the community is routine.

Community policing

Community policing is more than a collection of tactics, more than storefront offices, more than officers

on beats or on bikes, more than friendly relations

between police and residents. On the other hand, community policing is not a general method for improving

the quality of life. It is something more than the sum

of these tactics and something less than community

development. It is, as we see it, a specific strategy for

fighting crime based on a working relationship between the community and the police. The purpose of

the work, in which each has an active role, is to improve the quality of life by reducing crime, disorder,

and fear.

One of the precepts that should guide police work is

to do things in such a way that the community does

for itself as much as possible—that it develops the

habits and skills of doing. At the community level,

this requires that police see their work in a longer

term context, that they enter into the relationship

understanding and supporting the goal of developing

capable communities. It means less doing for and

more doing with. This does not assign the task of organizing communities or community capacity building to the police; that is work for local leaders and

community organizers. But it does ask for police

support of such capacity building.
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The hope is that the partners will work together to

prevent some future crimes and help build a more

cohesive community. But without clarity about goals

and mutual expectations, there will be no sustained

partnerships that can generate healthier, revitalized

communities.

Identifying partners in community

policing

Much time is spent attempting to define the “community.” People mean many things when they use the

word. “Community” is used to describe not only specific geographic areas containing residents who live,

work, and socialize together but also entire ethnic or

national groups (such as the Jewish community or the

African-American community), groups with common

interests across vast geographic areas (such as the

user communities of the Internet or the artistic

community), and even the entire planet (the global

community).

The civilian, nongovernmental partner for the police

will be one group, for instance, in the case of hate

crimes against members of a group that are geographically dispersed. It will mean another group

when the people are direct or indirect victims of

crimes by virtue of where they live.

The job is to identify the most productive partner for

the problems. Pattern analysis studies in Minneapolis,

New York, and elsewhere confirm what patrol officers

and community residents know firsthand. Problems

are not evenly or randomly distributed across communities. There are locations known as hot spots where

problems concentrate that account for a disproportionate amount of a neighborhood’s crime and disorder.

Both crime and disorder are important. Kelling and

Wilson’s classic treatise, “Broken Windows,”1

 underscores the point that visible and disruptive signs of

disorder are symbolically important to communities

and may be viewed as bellwethers of how seriously a

community cares about crime. (See “Urban Residents

Rank Crime Problems.”)

But few communities will mobilize for long or pay

sustained attention even to serious crimes involving

violence or serious property loss if the crimes seem

more or less randomly distributed and do not threaten

community life. The reality of crime’s geographical

distribution provides a critical first step in answering

who, in the context of community policing, the appropriate community partners should be.

A chronic, visible problem sets the stage for community organizing. It convinces people that it will not

just go away. It often leads to frustration, anger, fear,

and impulses to flee or fight. These are the conditions

that can lead neighbors to get organized, to conclude

that “something has to be done.” But a problem’s

persistence only provides one of the necessary conditions for organizing. The impulse to flee must, if

possible, be redirected. The impulse to fight must be

mobilized.

The bulk of urban community anticrime efforts occurs

in relatively small geographic areas within the larger

city at the level of individual neighborhoods or even

single blocks or buildings. These are places where

participants share some common identity or common

problems distinct from others in the city and where

they engage in some regular activities in common.

The principal actors in these efforts are those who have

deep stakes in the maintenance of a neighborhood’s

order and safety. Usually, they include local residents,

community-based organizations, and other not-forprofit groups.

The residents and institutions based in an area differ

significantly from those who travel in and out. While

transients may share concerns about safety, they are

generally far less willing or able to work intensively

on crime problems over the long run. Residents are

the actors most affected, most concerned with, and

most likely to volunteer to solve problems that disrupt

the neighborhood, create fear, and reduce the quality

of life. They are the most likely partner in combating

community-based crime.

To become effective partners, however, neighbors not

only must become aware of each other’s concerns,

they must also develop some mutual trust before they

will undertake what may appear to be a risky project.

They must develop skills at conducting meetings and

recruiting neighbors. They must learn to analyze,

select among, and prioritize the many problems that

they might work on. They must learn how to work

with each other and the police. They must develop

enough trust in their allies to know they will not be

abandoned. Finally, they must develop the capacity to

organize from victory to victory so that the number

of involved local residents increases over time.
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Even when well organized, however, most community

residents will need to learn the basic elements involved in tackling crime problems safely, effectively,

and in collaboration with law enforcement. How do

you report crimes confidentially and without exposing

yourself or neighbors to unnecessary risks? How do

you reach out to, and work closely with, local police

and prosecutors against serious crime conditions?

How do you organize from victory to victory so that

the number of involved local residents (and your

strength) increases over time? How do you use your

neighborhood’s own unique resources?

Creating successful

partnerships with

organizations

Organized people are more likely to safely and simultaneously implement a variety of crime-reduction

activities like civilian patrols, community rallies,

marches, positive loitering, and other forms of direct

action, as well as civil and criminal legal strategies,

court monitoring, and legislative actions. (See “What

Can the Community Do?”)

Organizations are more capable of focusing on problems that affect a large number of people in the

community. They are better able to get the attention

of agencies and institutions important in a coordinated

process of solving a community problem. Organized

groups have greater staying power than individuals.

It is important, however, to understand that not all

kinds of community-based organizations are equally

effective as partners. Critical to having an impact on

locations with chronic crime is an organization that

has a collective problem-solving perspective and a

commitment to reach out to and involve neighborhood

residents. The organization can be a block club, community organization, church committee, school or

youth group, or social service agency. The organization can be formal or informal, have a big budget or

no budget, or have a staff or be totally volunteer.

An agency that looks at people in the neighborhood

only as individual clients or consumers is likely to

have difficulties reaching out to significant numbers

of people and coordinating and sustaining their

efforts. On the other hand, purely volunteer organizations often have trouble maintaining ongoing activity

over the long term without support from staffed organizations. Block clubs, for instance, are more effective

if they have the support of umbrella organizations.

In the most strongly organized neighborhoods, block

or building organizations are linked with larger neighborhood or civic organizations.

Communities with weak organizations, no organizations, or organizations that serve only individual

clients—especially those communities that face serious crime—should not be ignored or abandoned to

traditional reactive policing just because they do not

make the most effective partners for police. They need

to be brought to the point that they will make effective

partners. They need to be organized. But this is not a

job for the police. It is a task for local leaders, assisted

where possible by professional community organizers

who know about crime, the police, and community

policing. These organizers need to know how to

involve residents in collaboration to develop neighborhood leadership, establish organizations, and

design actions to solve community problems.2

As communities differ widely in socioeconomic

status, ethnicity, level of organization, and local

history, so do their crime priorities. Ultimately,

this means there is no substitute for sitting down

with representatives of each neighborhood to ask

them about these priorities. Nevertheless, survey

data and experience suggest that crime problems

often are ranked by urban community residents

roughly as follows: (1) serious crimes that cause

community disorder—either directly (as when

streets or hallways become unusable), or indirectly

by grossly escalating local fear of crime and inhibiting normal community activities (like the use of

streets, parks, or playgrounds); (2) less serious

crimes that cause disorder—such as widespread

graffiti, street prostitution, illegal parking, misuse

of parks and other public spaces, loitering, and vandalism; and (3) isolated crimes that do not appear to

persist over time.

Urban Residents Rank Crime Problems
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● Identify, analyze, and solve problems. An

informed, organized, and involved community

can work with police to identify, analyze, and

implement solutions to community problems.

As Herman Goldstein has written, “A strong

commitment to consulting with the affected

community is inherent in problem-oriented

policing.”*

 Citizens not only have unique

knowledge of their own community but also

may have skills and contacts that facilitate

problem solving.

● Mobilize the community. Members of the

community are best positioned to organize

their neighbors to safely combat crime and

related problems. Groups often get started

through neighborhood meetings, rallies, and

recreational events. Door-to-door surveys serve

as both information-gathering and community

outreach efforts. Community organizations, by

their very nature as continuing organizations

with rosters of members and regular meetings,

can help sustain community involvement in

community policing over time.

● Share information with police. Citizens often

help by gathering information. Community organizations can organize community meetings

on how to safely provide police with useful

information (license plate numbers, detailed

descriptions, brand names of street drugs, and

code signals used to alert drug dealers of police presence). Standard forms for recording

information can also be distributed.

● Deny criminals access to space. No matter

how dedicated community policing officers

are, they cannot be everywhere all the time.

Community organizations can help by conducting antidrug patrols and initiating block

watches in neighborhoods, in apartment

buildings, and along school routes.

● Influence city agencies. A group of organized

citizens are much more likely than individual

citizens or police officers to get a response

from city agencies. Community organizations

can request meetings with mayors or city council members to support effective community

policing practices, adequate street lighting,

towing of abandoned cars, and additional

social services in their neighborhoods.

● Educate the media. Neighborhood groups are

well positioned to provide information to the

media about crime and disorder problems and

the effectiveness of problem-solving and

community policing approaches. Leaders of

neighborhood and citywide community organizations can write letters to the editor, appear on

local radio or TV shows, and organize press

conferences.

● Take legal action. Citizens can pressure landlords to evict drug dealers and maintain and

improve building security by improving lighting, door locks, intercoms, and roof doors.

Legal actions can be taken, in concert with

local officials, to close down bars or other

establishments that tolerate illegal activities.

Civil actions can be used in lieu of, or to

complement, criminal proceedings.

● Monitor court actions. After arrests in the

neighborhood, community members can

monitor and track the progress of cases and

encourage prosecutors to seek and judges to

give appropriate sentences. Neighborhood organizations can also encourage prosecutors’

offices to develop drug courts, community

courts, and alternative sentencing programs.

● Develop prevention and treatment programs. Community groups can draw on private and public resources as well as their own

“people power” to establish youth centers;

mentoring, tutoring, or parenting projects;

and Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, or other substance abuse prevention

or treatment programs for neighborhood

residents.

● Partner with neighborhood-based institutions. Churches, synagogues, mosques, and

temples as well as private businesses and

schools can be recruited to help combat crime

and recruit volunteers for community-based

programs.

● Rebuild social cohesion. Community organizations, through their neighborhood activities,

can help communities rebuild social control

and increase citizen accountability for the

actions of residents and their children.

● Create a constituency for community

policing. Independently organized communities, partnering with police and other agencies,

not only help prevent and control crime in particular neighborhoods, but also collectively

build and sustain a jurisdiction’s long-term

commitment to community policing.

* Goldstein, Herman, Problem-Oriented Policing,

New York: McGraw-Hill, 1990.

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The Chicago example

Partnership requires the development and implementation of coordinated activities. This requires

meetings, the collection and sharing of information,

planning, and exchanges about the effectiveness of

implementation. Police and community must regularly report to each other. Of course, anticrime activity

goes on in every community without involving any

police time. But true problem-solving partnerships

cannot develop without regular exchanges and some

meetings.

The importance of an organized and trained community and the potential for a wide and effective impact

in creating safer neighborhoods is clearly illustrated

by the experience in Chicago. Responding to community pressure and police support, the city invested

several million dollars in citywide training of the

community for its role. The Joint Community Police

Training Project (JCPT), which trained nearly 12,000

people, was run by a community-based organization,

the Chicago Alliance for Neighborhood Safety

(CANS). Twenty-five outreach organizers spent more

than a month in each police beat (average population

10,000 residents) knocking on doors; making presentations to block, church, school, and other community

groups; and inviting them to training sessions and

further involvement.

The orientation on Chicago’s version of community

policing and on problem solving was delivered to

people invited by the outreach workers. A team of

community and police trainers working with the

organizers then spent weeks supporting residents in

actual problem solving.

Evaluators of Chicago’s policing strategy and training

point out that “People have turned out by the tens of

thousands to get involved in training, participate in

beat community meetings [with police], and take

responsibility for neighborhood problem solving.”3

The evaluators also found that the likelihood of

citizen participation in crime-and-disorder reduction

activities is related to participation in traditional

community-based organizations. Residents involved

in a neighborhood’s community, religious, civic, or

charitable organizations, with their developed habits

of participation and the organizational support for

maintenance of these habits, were roughly four times

more likely to attend and participate in meetings and

get involved in problem-solving activities. They participated in rallies, positive loitering, and meetings

with landlords and businesspeople to make their

neighborhoods safer. Those with no organizational

affiliation participated in problem solving 48 percent

of the time. Those who indicated affiliation with four

or more organizations got involved in problem solving

more than 80 percent of the time.

Those most likely to participate in the training live

in high-crime neighborhoods. “In the safest fifth of

the beats,” the authors report, “attendance averaged

25 per 1,000 adults, while in the most unsafe fifth of

beats (where the personal crime rate was five times

higher) attendance averaged 53 per 1,000, more than

double the lower rate.” This training attracted people

in high-crime, low-income, minority neighborhoods

where it proved useful in improving the quality of life.

Among participants surveyed 4 months after they

received training, attempts had been made to solve

63 percent of the problems they listed. To make their

neighborhoods safer, 17 percent of JCPT graduates

participated in positive loitering, 15 percent joined a

community policing-related rally or demonstration,

41 percent met with property owners to address crime,

and 25 percent met with local businesspeople to address crime. On average, 26 percent of all problems

were partially or completely solved during the 4-

month followup period covered by the study.

Forty-four percent of the regular beat meetings with the

police were run by a resident or community organizer.

Another 14 percent were run collaboratively by a community person and an officer. These community-run or

collaborative meetings were more likely to prepare an

agenda, call for volunteers, and distribute sign-in sheets

for other activities. At these meetings, discussion was

evenly divided among police and residents at 60 percent of the meetings, and civilians took on a dominant

role at another 25 percent. When area residents or community organizers chaired beat meetings, police dominated crafting of solutions only 34 percent of the time.

When police ran the meeting, they took the lead in proposing solutions 77 percent of the time.

Beyond solving a problem

Beyond the education and mobilization of participants

for problem solving, the capacity to sustain efforts

must be embodied in ongoing community-based
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organizations that do not have to be reorganized to

deal with every new crisis. This is important because

the critical issue for the success of community

policing generally is consolidation of victories, once

achieved, over time. Without consolidation, communities will permanently increase the tax burden and assign hundreds of thousands of new police officers to

the streets. With consolidation, active, informed community organizations will do their part to maintain

safe and livable communities.

The time horizon in thinking about community policing and problem solving must extend beyond the initial declaration of victory over a particular problem.

If we want to improve the quality of life in troubled

neighborhoods, sustaining solutions for months and

years matters. Community-based organizations are

important in solving problems, and they are critical in

consolidating improvements over time.

Neighborhood safety and the quality of life are not

significantly improved by suppressing a problem temporarily. Although intensive efforts can reduce a problem—e.g., community groups can apply prolonged

and intense pressure on a drug house and have a dramatic impact—once an initially defined problem is

solved and the situation becomes less pressing, it can

become far more difficult to maintain the capacity

and readiness to bring pressure on that problem if it

begins to return. To go through a process that cannot

secure long-term improvements will recreate the principal shortcoming of incident-driven policing: “Bust

them today, and they’re back tomorrow.”

If, on the other hand, people who are affected by a

chronic crime problem organize, work with the police

and others to reduce the crime, and stay organized and

involved after crime is reduced, they have a better

chance of keeping things safer.

Building partnerships

Police and community each come to the partnership

table with their own traditions and culture as well as

their own myths, half-truths, and misperceptions.

These play out within the context of the still-dominant

model of policing that casts the community as passive

and police as active. The more the process is driven

by established habits, the more likely it is to bring

community and police together in a face-to-face variation of a 911 call, premised on merely transferring

information and delegating the responsibility for

action to police. Genuine partnership should expect to

break this mold.

For most urban residents, even those who have

participated in successful anticrime activities, expectations of the police are a vague and often contradictory mixture of old and new; of incident-driven,

problem-oriented, and community policing; and of

phrases without clear content. Even if they have followed closely in the press the advent of police reform

in their city, they are likely to have read that community policing is foot patrols, motor scooters, storefront

substations, nonemergency numbers, or some

combination of these tactics.

Both the community and the police must learn that

problem-solving partnerships are often labor intensive. But both parties should also understand that for

every hour of paid police time spent on the process,

dozens, sometimes many hundreds of hours of volunteer time are invested. The reward for all this effort:

the greater the mutual expectation to coordinate police

and community action, the more likely an active community will develop on which police can depend and

in which neighbors can hold each other, as well as the

police, accountable.

If community policing partnerships are to develop

and succeed, police and the community also must

understand the different organizational contexts

within which each operates and the constraints and

opportunities created by these contexts. Community

and police often come to the collaboration with false

expectations.

Community residents sometimes expect too much of

the police: a cop on every block, rapid response to

every call, intensive and exhaustive investigations of

every incident, and great community relations skills.

The community must learn the constraints on an

officer’s time and decisionmaking latitude—that,

whatever the rhetoric, when a police officer is on

the job, he or she is not one of them. If they are to

work together, police processes must be clear to the

community. Agreements made at meetings with the

community may have to be cleared with supervisors

before an officer can commit to participation.

Community participants must understand that, for

example, their desire for support from a special unit,

even with an officer’s concurrence, is no guarantee

of that support.
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Conversely, many police often expect too little of

community residents. Police officials and representatives with low expectations of community roles in

crime prevention and reduction generally base their

skepticism on work with unorganized and uninformed

citizens. Perhaps experience has taught them that the

best that can be hoped for in such cases is an eyesand-ears role.

Individual police officers can come to community

meetings expecting too little or too much. Often impatient, under pressure from a supervisor to get back

“in service” and fearful of being swallowed by the

dynamics of neighborhoods and their organizations,

it becomes increasingly critical for police officers to

understand those dynamics and values of community

organizations. Among the most cherished values and

an important determinant of the dynamics in many

volunteer-based community organizations is participatory decisionmaking. Especially in the case of a

community’s actual and potential leaders—those who

can move their neighbors into action and set the direction of that action—participation in decisionmaking

is key to buying in or having a stake in the process.

Having a stake is key to sustained activity. To maintain volunteer involvement, organizations need to

engage people in selecting the problem they will

work on, fashioning the strategy to solve it, and

implementing that strategy.

This participatory nature of decisionmaking in many

community organizations is foreign to police departments. It can be frustrating to professionals who have

become used to a paramilitary chain of command. Yet

such participation is critical to the community-police

collaboration. Police must come to meetings in the

community with the expectation of negotiating with

volunteers with whom they hope to be involved. Resident volunteers are neither passive resources nor paid

employees: It is their neighborhood, and they must

live with whatever decisions are reached on a 24-hour,

7-day-a-week basis.

Often, what is uppermost for the police department

does not match what concerns the community. Like

the community, officers must be prepared to take as

well as give leadership. They also must understand

that follow-through is critical, that losing momentum

loses volunteers.

In the problem-solving process, both parties can

expect initial venting, passing of the buck, and defensiveness. Police may blame the courts, personnel on

another shift, the command structure, or community

apathy for the persistence of problems cited by the

community. The community may blame the police,

city services, the kids, or neighbors not getting involved. Both may blame the decay of the family,

the absence of jobs, and other root causes. All these

accusations may contain elements of truth, and some

venting and finger pointing is inevitable. But it is

critical that someone at the meeting have the skills to

keep the focus on the targeted problem, and what

participants will do to solve it.

Inevitably, there will be testing throughout the process. If the recruitment of neighborhood residents

has been successful, it will have reached beyond those

comfortable with the police. These residents will have

come because they have felt the urgency of a crime

problem in their neighborhood. But they also will

bring their doubts and bad experiences to the collaboration, and their defenses will be up. Doubters will

look for bad attitudes and signs that an officer is not

doing his or her part. They will need to be convinced

that this is worth their time, that the police care and

are reliable. (This will be especially true among

young people.) If a problem is solved through cooperative work, former doubters become a voice in the

community for future collaboration. Their doubts are

worth working through because their word-of-mouth

advocacy is powerful.

To accomplish its mission, community policing must

build on the shared traditions and objectives of the

partners. Both have much to learn from each other.

Both share the goal of safer neighborhoods, and hidden beneath the partners’ specialized vocabularies is

a core of shared concepts. On the police side, there is

problem-oriented policing as a methodology for looking at and responding to crime. On the community

side, there are community organizing and anticrime

activity as community-building activities. Both the

police and community traditions are, to a large degree, geographically focused and involve the ideas of

sustained, purposeful effort and concepts like targets,

patterns, repeated occurrences, and coordinated activities. Both call on research and analysis before action,

and both encourage evaluation of results.
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Measuring what matters

While problem-solving partnerships are the foundation of community policing, what matters most is

how the goals are selected, how the participants work

together to accomplish those goals, whether the goals

are accomplished, and whether community capacity is

developed.

Some of the assessment or evaluative questions that

need to be asked include:

● Is the collaboration target-oriented? What kinds of

targets were selected? Did the community and the

police both have roles in selecting the problem and

designing the strategies? Did both play a role in

implementing the strategy? What was the division

of labor? What kinds of support, training, and technical assistance did each receive (and should each

have received) for their part in problem solving?

● Were the goals realistic? Was the strategy a success? Were the desired outcomes actually realized?

Did trust between police and community improve?

Were previously inactive residents enlisted in the

work?

● Did participants understand the process in which

they participated? Did they gain a new understanding of collaboration? Did attitudes toward the

use of 911 and incident-driven policing change?

Did community residents know what to expect

from officers and how to assess whether they were

getting it?

● Did organizational skills such as setting agendas

and running meetings improve among community

participants? Did collaboration continue over time,

from problem to problem? Did collaborative work

expand across communities?

Conclusion

Measuring the problem-solving interaction of community and police is measuring something that matters

deeply to the future of America’s cities. Focusing on

community self-help and the development of its capacity to solve neighborhood problems is not to deny

the major influence that issues at the national, State,

and city levels have on neighborhoods. The Nation’s

deeply entrenched divisions of race and income, and

recent rises in the numbers of youth living in poverty,

affect the prevalence of crime and are mostly beyond

the reach of local activity.

Focusing on community-police partnerships does not

diminish the importance of community development.

Community action against crime will obviously have

a greater effect if it takes place in the context of a

concerted effort to produce locally accessible jobs,

decent education, and hope for young people. The

impact of community action would also be greater in

the context of efforts, for instance, to improve housing

stock, business investment, and transportation in poor

and at-risk communities. But even in the absence of

broader efforts, local anticrime action is valuable.

It can raise people’s sense of efficacy and increase

community cohesion, reduce crime, improve the

quality of life, and heal a tiny part of the rift between

government and citizens.

Getting communities organized and maintaining

community organizations cost money. If the police

can’t produce neighborhood safety by themselves,

if they need community partners, if improving the

general welfare and domestic tranquillity of our

neighborhoods requires 100,000 community organizers to match the 100,000 police, then the community

has a right to expect public support from police and

other law enforcement leaders for the resources they

need to fulfill the community role effectively.

Notes

1. Kelling, George, M., and James Q. Wilson, “Broken

Windows,” Atlantic Monthly 249 (3) (March 1982):

29–36.

2. The “how to’s” of community action against crime

have been translated by support organizations that work

with neighborhood residents—such as the Chicago Alliance for Neighborhood Safety, the American Alliance

for Rights and Responsibilities (now the Center for the

Community Interest), the Citizen’s Committee for New

York City, the National Crime Prevention Council, and

others—into practical guidance materials in basic skills

and strategies. The citywide Citizens Committee provides technical assistance, publications, small grants,

and a Neighborhood Safety Leadership Institute. The

Chicago Alliance for Neighborhood Safety also offers

technical assistance and training. See also Kirby, Felice,

Alex Kopelman, and Michael E. Clark, Drugs: Fighting

Back!, New York: Citizens Committee for New York

City, 1995; Cadwalader, Wickersham & Taft, Attorneys

at Law, A Civil War: A Community Legal Guide to
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Fighting Street Drug Markets, New York: Cadwalader,

Wickersham & Taft, 1993; and Conner, Roger, and

Patrick Burns, A Winnable War: A Community Guide to

Eradicating Drug Markets, Washington, DC: American

Alliance for Rights and Responsibilities, 1992.

3. Skogan, Wesley G., et al., Community Policing

in Chicago, Year Three: An Interim Report, Chicago:

Illinois Criminal Justice Information Authority,

November 1996. See also Friedman, Warren, Building

on the Promise: Reason for Hope/Room for Doubt, Chicago: Chicago Alliance for Neighborhood Safety, 1996,

for a community perspective on the status of Chicago’s

version of community policing and what must happen to

sustain and enhance community participation.
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Americans’ Views on Crime and

Law Enforcement: A Look at

Recent Survey Findings

Gallup Organization for CNN/USA Today, October

1997). Just 24 percent of the public believe the country

is making progress on crime; 44 percent say the country is losing ground (Princeton Survey Research/Pew

Research Center, November 1997).

The public’s concerns about crime seem to be

somewhat independent of the actual crime rate, a phenomenon that may discourage law enforcement professionals but underscores just how frightening this

issue is for most people. Public concern about jobs

and unemployment often shows a similar pattern,

remaining high even in times of comparatively low

unemployment. Crime and unemployment can devastate people’s lives in ways that a far-off foreign policy

crisis or long-term environmental threat cannot.

Deeply held public fears about crime—developed

over decades—may be slow to dissipate even in the

best of circumstances.

Public attitudes in New York City, which has experienced dramatic and highly publicized decreases in

violent crime, provide a case in point. Polls in New

York City show a remarkable jump in the New York

City Police Department’s approval rating, which

rose from 37 percent in 1992 to 73 percent in 1996

(Empire Foundation, April 1996). Mayor Rudolph

Giuliani, former Police Commissioner William

Bratton, and current Commissioner Howard Safir

have earned good marks for their efforts in fighting

crime (Quinnipiac College, April 1996 and February

1997). Although half of New Yorkers (51 percent) say

the city is now safer, almost two-thirds (65 percent)

say they worry about being a victim of crime

(Quinnipiac College, February 1997).

Many observers have suggested that public fears

about crime are driven by media coverage rather than

by any real knowledge of crime rates in their area.

And 76 percent of Americans themselves say this is

Americans from every walk of life, in every community in the country, routinely make decisions that

strengthen or hinder the country’s ability to fight

crime. Citizens elect the governors, mayors, and legislators who shape crime-fighting policy. When citizens

choose not to report crimes or press charges, when

jurors decide to accept or discount police testimony

for any reason other than merit, they profoundly affect

the quality of law enforcement and justice in this

country.

At the request of the National Institute of Justice,

Public Agenda, a nonprofit, nonpartisan research

organization, analyzed recent public opinion data on

crime, the criminal justice system, and the role and

effectiveness of the police. This paper summarizes our

key observations based on an analysis of surveys from

the past 5 years.1

 Unless otherwise noted, the surveys

cited here are national random sample telephone

surveys conducted in 1995 or later.

Crime and law enforcement are areas where attitudes

often vary sharply between African-Americans and

whites, and we have reported the views of these

groups separately where the differences are significant. Unfortunately, most national surveys are not

large enough to allow us to report with any confidence

on the views of Hispanics or other minority groups.

Falling crime rates:

rooted fears

Despite falling crime rates and remarkably good news

from some of the Nation’s large cities, crime remains

an urgent issue for most Americans. Crime routinely

appears at or near the top of surveys asking Americans

to name the most important issues facing the country.

Ninety-two percent of Americans, for example, say the

issue of crime should be a priority for Congress (The

Jean Johnson, Steve Farkas, Ali Bers, Christin Connolly, and Zarela Maldonado
Americans’ Views on Crime and Law Enforcement: A Look at Recent Survey Findings

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true: They get their information about crime from the

news media (ABC News, May 1996).

Almost 6 in 10 Americans (57 percent) say their own

community has less crime than the country as a whole

(Los Angeles Times, January 1994); 8 in 10 say they

feel safe in their own community (Los Angeles Times,

October 1995). Even in New York City, where 81 percent of residents say crime is a “big problem,” only

38 percent say crime is a “big problem” in their own

community (Quinnipiac College, February 1997).

But people’s fears are nevertheless real, and they may

be intensified by the conviction of many Americans

that the crime problem is getting worse, not better.

Sixty-five percent of Americans say they think there

is more crime in the United States than a year ago

(The Gallup Organization for CNN/USA Today, July

1997); 62 percent say they worry “a lot” about an increase in crime in their own community (Yankelovich

Partners for Time/CNN, January 1995).

Some groups in the population voice even higher

levels of concern. More than two-thirds of women

(68 percent), compared with just over half of men

(56 percent), say they worry “a lot” about an increase

in crime in their community. Seventy-six percent of

African-Americans, compared with 60 percent of

whites, voice a high level of concern. Two-thirds

(66 percent) of low-income Americans (those earning

less than $20,000), compared with only half (51 percent) of those with incomes above $75,000, worry a

lot about an increase in crime (Yankelovich Partners

for Time/CNN, January 1995). Since crime statistics

show that blacks and low-income Americans are more

likely to be victims of crimes, the concerns of these

groups have a factual base (see exhibit 1).

Causes of crime: complex and

multifaceted

Americans identify a wide variety of social, economic,

and moral conditions as the causes of crime. Fifty-six

percent cite illegal drugs as a chief cause of crime;

38 percent name a lack of religion and morality in

families; and 36 percent point to economic problems

and lack of jobs. More than a quarter (28 percent) say

the way judges apply the law is an important cause of

crime (CBS News/New York Times, June 1996).

People back a variety of approaches they view as

effective ways to fight crime—some designed to remove dangerous criminals from their neighborhoods,

some to prevent youngsters from falling into a life of

crime, some to express society’s outrage at those who

disdain its laws. Public views on fighting crime do not

fall neatly into either a liberal or conservative political

framework. Sixty-nine percent of Americans want to

make it more difficult for individuals to own handguns or assault weapons. A virtually equal number

(71 percent) want to make greater use of the death

penalty (Hart and Teeter Research Companies,

December 1996).

Yankelovich Partners for Time/CNN, January 1995. National survey of 1,000.

Note: Table percentages may not add up to 100 due to rounding.

General <$20K >$75K

Public Women Men Blacks Whites per year per year

% %%%%%%

A lot 62 68 56 76 60 66 51

A little 27 23 32 17 28 22 38

Not at all 11 10 12 7 11 11 11

Exhibit 1. Concern About Crime

“People all have different concerns about what’s going on in the world these days, but you can’t worry

about everything all the time. Will you please tell me for each of the following whether right now this

is something that worries you personally a lot, a little, or not at all? . . . An increase in crime in your

community.”
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 Jean Johnson, Steve Farkas, Ali Bers, Christin Connolly, and Zarela Maldonado

The public considers “mandatory life sentences for

three-time felons” and “youth crime prevention programs” equally effective as crimefighting measures

(Los Angeles Times, April 1994). Asked about the best

overall approach to reducing crime, 30 percent of Americans want to emphasize punishment, 18 percent want to

address the causes, and 51 percent want to emphasize

both (Hart and Teeter Research Group, January 1995).

Research on prison overcrowding and alternative sentencing by Public Agenda for the Edna McConnell Clark

Foundation also strongly suggests that most Americans

believe in a mixture of approaches.2

 For youngsters in

particular, people want the preventive approach—“stop

them before they start, if you can.” But for most Americans, the worst possible lesson for young offenders

would be to not to get caught or to receive the “slap on

the wrist” of probation. Indeed, the Public Agenda studies found that the most popular sentence for young

offenders is boot camp. Most Americans are convinced

that the young person who “gets away with it” is all the

more likely to continue a life of crime.

Opinion research strongly suggests that, for the public,

the concept of justice includes both protecting the

rights of the accused and redressing wrongs done to

victims and society. The vast majority of Americans

appears to believe that the balance between these

two goals has tipped too far in favor of the accused.

Eighty-six percent of Americans say the court system

does too much to protect the rights of people accused

of crimes and not enough to protect the rights of crime

victims (ABC News, February 1994). Only 3 percent of

Americans say the courts deal too harshly with criminals; 85 percent say they are not harsh enough (National Opinion Research Center [NORC], May 1994).

The police: on the front lines

Putting more police on the streets as an effective

way to fight crime is broadly supported. Nine in ten

Americans (90 percent) say that increasing the number of police is a very (46 percent) or somewhat

(44 percent) effective way to reduce crime (ABC

News, November 1994). And, given the general skepticism people feel about many institutions and most of

government, Americans voice substantial confidence

in law enforcement. Sixty percent of Americans say

they have a “great deal” or “quite a lot” of confidence

in the police; another 29 percent say they have

“some” confidence in the police; only 12 percent

express very little or no confidence (The Gallup

Organization for CNN/USA Today, May 1996).

In a 1996 Gallup survey, only one major American

institution rated higher than the police: 66 percent of

the public have a great deal or quite a lot of confidence in the military. The police score about as well

as “organized religion” (56 percent), and many

groups—business corporations, Congress, the news

media—do much worse. The police also score significantly higher than “the criminal justice system” as a

Exhibit 2. Public Confidence in Selected

Institutions

“I am going to read you a list of institutions in

American society. Would you tell me how much

respect and confidence you, yourself, have in each

one—a great deal, quite a lot, some, or very little?”

Percentage of general

public saying “a great

Institution deal” or “quite a lot”

of confidence

Military 66

Police 60

Organized religion 56

Supreme Court 45

Banks 44

Medical system 42

Presidency 39

Public schools 38

Television news 36

Newspapers 32

Organized labor 25

Big business 24

Congress 20

Criminal justice system 19

The Gallup Organization, 1996. National survey of 1,019.
Americans’ Views on Crime and Law Enforcement: A Look at Recent Survey Findings

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whole; only one in five Americans (19 percent) voices

strong confidence in it (The Gallup Organization,

1996). (See exhibit 2.)

But confidence in law enforcement is one area where

African-Americans and white Americans differ dramatically. While 66 percent of whites say they have a

great deal or quite a lot of confidence in the police,

only 32 percent of African-Americans feel the same

way. Perhaps even more important, while only a handful of whites (8 percent) say they have very little or no

confidence in the police, 25 percent of blacks make

this statement (The Gallup Organization, May 1996).

(See exhibit 3.)

Incidents that shape

perceptions

Much of the recent opinion research on police bias

and brutality has focused on two widely publicized

incidents in the past 5 years: the trial of four Los

Angeles police officers in the beating of Rodney King

and the role of retired Los Angeles detective Mark

Fuhrman in the murder trial of O.J. Simpson.

Public attitudes about these two incidents suggest the

basis for some of the public’s thinking about what

constitutes appropriate police behavior and the degree

to which people believe most officers act professionally most of the time. Surveys conducted during

periods of extensive press coverage and heightened

public debate can, of course, show levels of concern

or anger that recede in quieter times. Mark Fuhrman,

for example, has written a bestselling book and made

numerous media appearances in the wake of the civil

judgment against O.J. Simpson. Public attitudes about

him personally may shift somewhat with time. But

the initial public reactions to these two incidents as

people understood them at the time are revealing.

Surveys of public reaction to the Rodney King beating—undoubtedly shaped by repeated broadcast of a

videotape of the incident—show that the overwhelming majority of Americans did not like what they saw.

Just 6 percent of Americans surveyed after the officers’ initial acquittal said they thought the verdict was

“right” (CBS News/New York Times, May 1992). Only

9 percent said they “sympathize[d]” more with police

than the beating victim (Yankelovich Clancy

Schulman for Time/CNN, April 1992.)

Exhibit 3. Confidence in the Police

General

Public Blacks Whites

%% %

Now I am going to read you a list of institutions in

American society. Please tell me how much confidence

you, yourself, have in each one. . . . The police?1

A great deal/quite a lot 60 32 66

Some 29 43 25

Very little/none 12 25 8

Don’t know (volunteered) <.5 0 <.5

How much confidence do you have in the ability of

the police to protect you from violent crime?2

A great deal/quite a lot 50 37 53

Not very much/none at all 48 61 46

Don’t know (volunteered) 1 2 1

1

 The Gallup Organization for CNN/USA Today, May 1996. National survey of 1,019. 2

 The Gallup Organization for CNN/USA Today, September 1995. National survey of 1,011.

Note: Table percentages may not add up to 100 due to rounding.
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 Jean Johnson, Steve Farkas, Ali Bers, Christin Connolly, and Zarela Maldonado

Reactions to the tape-recorded comments of Mark

Fuhrman played during the Simpson criminal trial

show a similar public recoil against an officer who did

not seem to fit commonly held standards for appropriate police behavior. At the time, 87 percent of Americans, with blacks and whites agreeing in roughly

equal numbers, said they had an “unfavorable impression” of Fuhrman (The Gallup Organization, October

1995), although Americans were split largely along

racial lines about whether he actually planted evidence

in the Simpson case (CBS News, September 1995).3

Regardless of their differing perceptions about what

Fuhrman actually did or did not do, there is one area

where blacks and whites agree overwhelmingly:

Only 9 percent of either group said that watching the

Simpson trial gave them more confidence that “police

officers perform their duties in a professional and

ethical manner” (The Gallup Organization for CNN/

USA Today, October 1995).

The exception or the rule?

For many white Americans, these kinds of incidents

are mainly viewed as regrettable exceptions to the rule.

Only 15 percent of white Americans think that “the kind

of improper behavior by police described on the

Fuhrman tapes (racism and falsification of evidence)” is

common among their local police (Princeton Survey Research Associates, August 1995). But black Americans

see things very differently. More than half of AfricanAmericans (53 percent) think that the racism and falsifiExhibit 4. Opinions About Police Behavior

General

Public Blacks Whites

%%%

From what you know, is the kind of improper behavior by police

described on the Fuhrman tapes (racism and falsification of

evidence) common among members of your police force, or not?1

Yes, common 20 53 15

No, not common 64 32 70

Don’t know (volunteered) 16 16 15

For each of the following, please indicate how serious a threat

it is today to Americans’ rights and freedoms. . . . Police

overreaction to crime?2

Very serious threat 27 43 24

Moderate threat 40 27 42

Not much of a threat 32 28 32

Don’t know (volunteered) 2 1 2

Do you think blacks and other minorities receive equal treatment

as whites in the criminal justice system?3

Yes, receive equal treatment 36 12 41

No, do not receive equal treatment 55 81 49

No opinion 9 7 10

1 Newsweek/Princeton Survey Research Associates, August 1995. National survey of 758. 2

 The Gallup Organization for America’s Talking, June 1994. National survey of 1,013.

3

 ABC News, May 1996. National survey of 1,116.

Note: Table percentages may not add up to 100 due to rounding.
Americans’ Views on Crime and Law Enforcement: A Look at Recent Survey Findings

138

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cation of evidence described on the Fuhrman tapes is

common among the local police (Princeton Survey

Research Associates, August 1995). Almost twice as

many blacks as whites (43 percent compared with 24

percent) consider “police overreaction to crime” a very

serious threat (The Gallup Organization for America’s

Talking, June 1994). (See exhibit 4.)

Moreover, concern among African-Americans about

their chances of being treated fairly extends beyond

law enforcement: While 41 percent of whites say that

racial and other minorities receive equal treatment

in the criminal justice system, only 12 percent of

African-Americans say they are confident that this

occurs (ABC News, May 1996).

Common standards,

different experiences

Interestingly, there is substantial agreement among

black and white Americans about what constitutes

appropriate police behavior. Nine in ten Americans

(90 percent)—with no significant differences between

blacks and whites—disapprove of an officer striking

a citizen who is being vulgar and obscene. A roughly

equal number (92 percent) disapprove of an officer

striking a murder suspect during questioning—again

with no significant differences between blacks and

whites. Ninety-three percent say a police officer

should be allowed to strike a citizen who is attacking

the officer with his fists, with blacks and whites again

in agreement (NORC, 1994).

But judgments differ widely about what actually happens in most communities regarding police behavior.

Middle-class whites generally have only positive

interactions with the police, and most experience a

sense of relief at seeing police officers out and about.

In contrast, a study by the Joint Center for Political

and Economic Studies (April 1996) reports that

43 percent of blacks consider “police brutality and

harassment of African-Americans a serious problem”

in their own community.

The level of distrust obviously affects the degree of

support law enforcement can expect now and in the

future. While 72 percent of whites think the police

generally are fair in collecting evidence, only 47 percent of blacks believe this (Yankelovich Partners,

June 1995). Even prior to the Rodney King incident,

African-Americans were more likely than whites—

82 percent compared with 65 percent—to think that

charges of police brutality are likely to be justified

(CBS News/New York Times, April 1991).

Although blacks and whites agree on how police officers should behave when the situation is relatively

clear-cut, there are important differences when the

situation is more problematic. Seventy-eight percent

of whites, compared with only 57 percent of blacks,

would approve of an officer striking a suspect attempting to escape custody (NORC, 1994). Given a

Rorschach survey question capturing the most immediate first thoughts of the respondents, the racial

differences are marked: More than three-quarters of

whites (76 percent) say they can “imagine” a situation

in which they would approve of a policeman striking

an adult male citizen, but less than half of blacks

(45 percent) give the police this kind of benefit of the

doubt (NORC, May 1994). (See exhibit 5.)

The fault line

There are some issues, such as affirmative action,

where policymakers cannot easily accommodate the

anxieties both blacks and whites bring to the issue—

fears among blacks that they will be the subject of

discrimination if affirmative action is curtailed; fears

among whites that they will be the subject of reverse

discrimination if affirmative action stands.

But concerns about police bias and brutality are different. Although blacks and whites disagree about

how widespread these problems are, neither group

finds such behavior acceptable. Both blacks and

whites disapproved of the Rodney King beating, at

least as they saw it. Both groups were repulsed by the

attitudes and behavior depicted on the Fuhrman tapes.

Indeed, those concerned that police officers behave—

and are perceived as behaving—in a professional

manner should not be overly consoled by the judgments of whites either. Americans of both races seem

dubious that police departments will act forcefully to

address problems of racism, dishonesty, or brutality to

the extent that they exist in police ranks. Only 14 percent of white Americans and 15 percent of black

Americans think it is “very likely” that the controversy surrounding detective Fuhrman will lead to

“significant improvement in the way police in this

country treat blacks” (The Gallup Organization for

CNN/USA Today, October 1995).
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 Jean Johnson, Steve Farkas, Ali Bers, Christin Connolly, and Zarela Maldonado

Exhibit 5. Approval/Disapproval of Police Behavior

General

Public Blacks Whites

%%%

Would you approve of a policeman striking a citizen who had

said vulgar and obscene things to the policeman?

Yes 9 5 9

No 90 94 90

Not sure (volunteered) 1 1 1

Would you approve of a policeman striking a citizen who was

being questioned as a suspect in a murder case?

Yes 7 6 7

No 92 93 92

Not sure (volunteered) 2 1 2

Would you approve of a policeman striking a citizen who was

attempting to escape from custody?

Yes 75 57 78

No 21 36 18

Not sure (volunteered) 4 7 4

Would you approve of a policeman striking a citizen who was

attacking the policeman with his fists?

Yes 93 90 94

No 6 9 5

Not sure (volunteered) 1 1 1

Are there any situations you can imagine in which you would

approve of a policeman striking an adult male citizen?

Yes 71 45 76

No 26 48 22

Not sure (volunteered) 3 7 3

National Opinion Research Center, General Social Survey, 1994. National survey of 2,992.

Note: Table percentages may not add up to 100 due to rounding.

In a decade when many Americans seem to think that

“government” can do no right, law enforcement is

viewed as an essential public service, and the police

enjoy a robust vote of confidence from most of the

public. But support for law enforcement has a fault

line. Far too many black Americans are disaffected

and suspicious. They are not confident that the police

will be fair. They are not confident that the police will

be professional. They are not confident that the police

will “protect and serve.” And while the personal

encounters most whites have with police officers may

be positive, white Americans have witnessed some

graphic, highly publicized examples of police behavior that, in their view, are entirely unacceptable. They
Americans’ Views on Crime and Law Enforcement: A Look at Recent Survey Findings

140

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may regard these incidents as exceptions, but not ones

to be glossed over as “the cost of doing business.”

Over the past 5 years, Public Agenda has looked

closely at public attitudes about teachers, another

group of government workers whom the public likes.

Teachers, like police officers, are seen as performing

an essential public service and are generally regarded

with respect. But Public Agenda research also shows

a rising frustration with teachers—and their unions—

for seeming to tolerate and protect the few incompetents among them. Focus groups erupt in anger when

discussion turns to teacher tenure. The stories pour

out about the one bad teacher the school cannot seem

to get rid of. Anger against the few infects attitudes

about teachers overall.

Law enforcement may now be in a similar position.

Police departments that are seen as tolerating racist,

brutal, or corrupt officers—or police unions that are

perceived as protecting them—could slowly and

incrementally jeopardize the strong support for law

enforcement overall. It is fair to ask how long police

departments can tolerate widespread lack of confidence among the black community—an outlook that

must daily undermine police effectiveness in fighting

crime. Public confidence in law enforcement is, for

the country and for law enforcement itself, a priceless

asset, but it is not indestructible nor a cause for

complacency.

Notes

1. In preparing this paper, we have relied extensively on

data from the Roper Center Public Opinion Location

Library (POLL), a resource housing survey data from

many of the Nation’s most respected opinion research

firms—ABC News, The Gallup Organization, Louis

Harris and Associates, National Opinion Research

Center (NORC), Princeton Survey Research Associates,

and others. POLL is operated by the Roper Center at the

University of Connecticut and can be accessed through

NEXIS. The service can provide full-question wording,

complete responses, and, in most cases, demographic

breakdowns for the surveys cited here, along with other

findings about crime and criminal justice that could not

be discussed in this brief overview.

2. Public Agenda has conducted three studies on public

attitudes about incarceration and alternative sentencing

in Pennsylvania (1993), Delaware (1991), and Alabama

(1989). The research was sponsored by the Edna

McConnell Clark Foundation.

3. The poll found that 78 percent of African-Americans

think it is likely that Fuhrman planted the glove as evidence. In contrast, only 33 percent of whites think it is

likely he planted the glove.