We hit on gun policy, terrible journalism about Chicago crime, why I harbor some human sympathy for George Zimmerman, and why Tom Wolfe would have been such a superb observer of the urban scene–if only he weren’t such a horrible novelist.
If you have to write a story about Chicago’s crime problem, you couldn’t do much worse than Kevin Williamson’s “Gangsterville: How Chicago reclaimed the projects but lost the city,” on the web at the National Review.
To be sure, Williamson makes a few good points. He notes, for example, that the decline of disciplined hierarchical gangs may have brought unintended consequences. He reminds the youngsters of notorious Chicago gangsters Larry Hoover and Jeff Fort. In just about every other way, this piece illustrates much that is wrong in the way millions of Americans view the urban scene.
He notes–but variously seems to forget– that it’s not Dodge City here. Chicago homicide rates—though up roughly 20 percent between 2011 and 2012—remain a notch below levels of ten or fifteen years ago. Homicide rates are way below the levels of the early 1990s and the crack epidemic years. Non-homicide crime rates have also declined. Our homicide decline has been too slow when compared with LA or New York. Still, many cities—Baltimore, Detroit, Cleveland, Camden–would love to have Chicago’s problems or our crime rate.
Williamson’s article is filled with homespun wisdom such as the following:
The usual noises were made about gun control, and especially the flow of guns from nearby Indiana into Chicago, though nobody bothered to ask why Chicago is a war zone and Muncie isn’t.
I don’t know about Muncie, which is four hours away. People have bothered to ask about our almost-immediate neighbor: Gary, Indiana. An April 2012 Chicago magazine piece described swathes of Gary’s housing stock as “burned and cratered as if in a war zone.” Continue Reading…
I’m in London for meetings on criminal justice organized by the Centre for Justice Innovation (the UK arm of the Center for Court Innovation) and Policy Exchange. A small meeting that ran for two hours today tried to figure out whether the coerced-sobriety approach of the South Dakota 24/7 project (the alcohol version of HOPE) could be used in Scotland, with social problems, customs, and institutional arrangements quite unlike South Dakota’s. (In particular, Scotland has no such thing as a two-day term of confinement.)
The answer seems to be that you could try to do something based on similar principles and with similar aims, but you couldn’t really do the program in its trademark style, and even if you’re convinced 24/7 works on drunk drivers in Sioux Falls you can’t be sure that the alternative version would work on drunken wife-beaters in Glasgow.
That suggests a more general reflection. Heraclitus said that no one can step twice into the same river. By the same token, it isn’t really possible to do the same program in two different places.
Alejandro Hope, until recently in charge of organized-crime analysis at CISEN (the Mexican intelligence service) shreds the latest nonsense numbers from the UN Office on Drugs and Crime.
Part of the problem with drug policymaking at every level is its almost complete detachment from reality. In particular, statistics about drug volumes and revenues are more or less invented at random, then passed around like bad pennies.
I have this flagged under “Lying in Politics,” but “lying” isn’t really the mot juste. This is more what Harry Frankfort calls “bullsh*tting”: the statements are false, but not really intended to deceive. Stating them, and citing them, are ritual gestures: socially meaningful, but essentially content-free. (And debunking them is one of the central themes Jon Caulkins, Angela Hawken, and I pursue in Drugs and Drug Policy, whose subtitle should really be, not “what everyone needs to know,” but “what everyone needs to stop believing.”
Translation below the fold.
Footnote More from Alejandro at his new blog (mentioned earlier by Keith). It’s called “Plata o plomo” (“Silver or lead”), the proverbial choice offered to law enforcement officials by Latin American drug traffickers: take our money or face our bullets.
“Social capital” can refer either to an individual’s relational and reputational assets or to the collective efficacy of a neighborhood, group, or organization: roughly speaking, its capacity to get its members to contribute resources or effort for collective purposes (that is, to make public contributions to the public goods of that collectivity).
Financial assets and transactions are far easier to measure than social assets and the processes that produce and destroy them. But that doesn’t mean financial matters are more important. Policy analysts in particular need to pay more attention to social assets and processes, and to the distribution of social as well as financial resources.
Application to crime control policy:
At the individual level, having a habit or law-breaking and/or an official criminal record, or a group of friends and acquiantances with such characteristics, constitutes a negative relational/reputational asset.
At the collective level, a high crime rate by, against, or (especially) within a group saps collective efficacy and therefore constitutes negative group social capital.
Moreover, good or bad behavior by anyone with a given social identity tends to rub off on the reputations of others who share that identity: that’s the phenomenon called “reputational externality.” Crime is an important source of negative reputational externalities.