HFG’s June 29, 2023 Knowledge Against Violence Speaker Series event, “Beyond the Crisis: Reimagining Migrant Protection,” explored migrant rights and protections from the perspective of three scholars who study the issue from Europe, Africa and North and South America.
The panel was moderated by historian and HFG Pembroke College Research Fellow (2017-2020) Nicki Kindersley of Cardiff University. The panelists included Surulola Eke, a Banting Postdoctoral Fellow at Queen’s University, who studies links among autochthony, natural resources, and conflicts in West Africa, and Charles Larratt-Smith, an assistant professor of political science at Tecnológico de Monterrey who studies migrants affected by conflict in Mexico and Colombia.
The conversation explored the utility of the 1951 Refugee Convention as it applies to migrant protections today; how migrants are shaping conflict landscapes; and how we reconcile international agendas with local and regional realities. It highlighted the legalities and policies around international regional and local migrant protection and the importance of getting broader racial, ethnic, gendered, and economic considerations right as they pertain to north-south and south-south migration and the violence that migrants face.
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Nicki Kindersley is a Lecturer in African History at the School of History, Archaeology and Religion at Cardiff University. She was the Harry Frank Guggenheim Research Fellow from 2017-2020 at Pembroke College, Cambridge University.
Surulola Eke is Banting Postdoctoral Fellow in the Department of Political Studies at Queen’s University, Canada. He was awarded an HFG Distinguished Scholar Award in 2023.
Charles Larratt-Smith is an Assistant Professor at Tecnológico de Monterrey, Mexico. He was awarded an HFG Emerging Scholar Award in 2017 and an HFG Distinguished Scholar Award in 2023.
Scholars have been puzzled by the rise in homicides since 2015. Many theories that have been put forth have merit, but most take a short-term view of why the rate of violent crime has changed in recent years.
Join Professor Roth for HFG’s next Speaker Series talk where he takes a longer, historical view of the reasons why rates of violent crime change over time—a view that focuses on the degree to which modern and early modern societies have been successful at nation building. As he suggests, the fundamental requisites for low levels of violence are political stability, legitimate government, a legitimate social hierarchy, and fellow feeling and a sense of kinship among citizens.
Roth received a 2013 Distinguished Scholar (then called Research Grant) award from the Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation. His project was titled Child Murder in America.
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About American Homicide from Harvard University Press:
In American Homicide, Randolph Roth charts changes in the character and incidence of homicide in the U.S. from colonial times to the present. Roth argues that the United States is distinctive in its level of violence among unrelated adults—friends, acquaintances, and strangers.
America was extraordinarily homicidal in the mid-seventeenth century, but it became relatively non-homicidal by the mid-eighteenth century, even in the slave South; and by the early nineteenth century, rates in the North and the mountain South were extremely low. But the homicide rate rose substantially among unrelated adults in the slave South after the American Revolution; and it skyrocketed across the United States from the late 1840s through the mid-1870s, while rates in most other Western nations held steady or fell. That surge—and all subsequent increases in the homicide rate—correlated closely with four distinct phenomena: political instability; a loss of government legitimacy; a loss of fellow-feeling among members of society caused by racial, religious, or political antagonism; and a loss of faith in the social hierarchy. Those four factors, Roth argues, best explain why homicide rates have gone up and down in the United States and in other Western nations over the past four centuries, and why the United States is today the most homicidal affluent nation.
Urban Gang Violence is widely synonymous with criminality and deviance. However, this conversation showcased examples from Pakistan, Brazil, Ecuador and DR Congo to complicate our understanding of gangs. From violent criminal behavior to service provision and community legitimacy, HFG grantees explored the sometimes paradoxical role of urban gangs and offered suggestions for mitigating the violence they inflict.
Moderator: Thomas Abt | Council on Criminal Justice & University of Maryland
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Nicholas Barnes is a Lecturer in the School of International Relations at the University of St. Andrews and an affiliated faculty at the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies.
David C. Brotherton is Professor of Sociology at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice and the Graduate Center and affiliated with Ph.D. programs in Urban Education, Sociology and Criminal Justice.
Adeem Suhail is an assistant professor in social anthropology at Franklin and Marshall College.
Rosette Sifa Vuninga is Andrew W. Mellon Postdoctoral Fellow at the University of the Western Cape’s Centre for the Humanities Research in Cape Town, South Africa.
Thomas Abt is the founding director of the Center for the Study and Practice of Violence Reduction (VRC) and an associate research professor in the Department of Criminology and Criminal Justice at the University of Maryland.
Nyumba kumi example: Ndono, Phyllis Wamaitha, Nzioka John Muthama, and Kariuki Muigua. “Effectiveness of the Nyumba Kumi community policing initiative in Kenya.” Journal of Sustainability, Environment and Peace 1, no. 2 (2019): 63-67.
“Violent extremism remains one of Africa’s most pressing security threats. Employing asymmetric tactics and integrating within local communities, militant groups have sought to amplify grievances and intercommunal differences as a means of mobilizing recruitment and fostering antigovernment sentiments.” (Africa Center for Strategic Studies)
This conversation drew on the work and expertise of two HFG grantees and explored the dominant narratives of violent extremism on the African continent, the role of the state, and the dichotomy between victims and perpetrators of violence in Nigeria, Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Mozambique. Speakers Included:
Rachel Sweet is Assistant Professor of Politics and Global Affairs at the Kroc Institute for International Peace Studies at the University of Notre Dame.
This panel featured three HFG Distinguished Scholars who examined the rapid rise in gang- and drug-related violence across the country. It is estimated that in 2021 some 45,000 people were displaced, as Mexicans fled their homes to escape the violence. Just in the last month, drug cartels and gangs attacked police, businesses and civilian property in four states. From crippled intelligence and investigative units to failing security policies, this discussion delved into what’s behind the rise in violence, what research questions can help us better understand it, and ultimately what should be done about it. Speakers included:
Angélica Durán-Martínez is the author of the book The Politics of Drug Violence, and is an Associate Professor of Political Science and Director of the Global Studies PhD program at the University of Massachusetts Lowell.
Guillermo Trejo is a co-author of the book Votes, Drugs, and Violence: The Political Logic of Criminal Wars in Mexico, a Professor of Political Science at the University of Notre Dame, and the Director of the Violence and Transitional Justice Lab at the Kellogg Institute for International Studies.
Dr. Simi’s presentation examined the current U.S. socio-political landscape through a discussion of his work on white supremacist groups, the rise of far-right extremism, and the re-emergence of long standing prejudices in the U.S. and around the world.
Dr. Simi received a Distinguished Scholar (formerly Research Grant) Award in 2012 for his project “Desistance from Right-Wing Extremism.”
About the second edition of American Swastika: Inside the White Power Movement’s Hidden Spaces of Hate from Rowman and Littlefield:
This second edition of the acclaimed American Swastika provides an up-to-date perspective on the white power movement in America. The book takes readers through hidden enclaves of hate, exploring how white supremacy movements thrive nationwide and how we can work to prevent future violence. Filled with powerful case studies, interviews, and first-person accounts, the book explains the differences between various hate groups, then shows how white supremacy groups cultivate their membership through Aryan homes, parties, rituals, music festivals, and online propaganda.
Featuring updated statistics and examples throughout, the second edition of American Swastika describes most of today’s active white power groups and the legacy of recently disbanded groups. It also discusses new players in the world of white power websites and music and shares new research on how people exit hate groups.
As recent events have made clear that the idea of a “post–racial America” is a myth, American Swastika is essential reading for understanding both how hate builds and how we can work to prevent violence.
What’s behind the war in Ukraine, and what is next? Why did the Unites States remain so long in Afghanistan? What’s driving gun violence in so many US cities? Dr. Blattman will talk about how these disparate kinds of conflict have surprisingly many things in common, and will talk about what decades of social science can tell us about the answers.
Dr. Blattman received an Emerging Scholar Award (formerly Dissertation Fellowship) in 2006 for his project “The Impact of War on Young Ex-Combatants and the Determinants of Reintegration Success: A Study of Children and Youth in Northern Uganda.”
About Why We Fight: The Roots of War and Paths to Peace from Penguin Random House:
Why We Fight draws on decades of economics, political science, psychology, and real-world interventions to lay out the root causes and remedies for war, showing that violence is not the norm; that there are only five reasons why conflict wins over compromise; and how peacemakers turn the tides through tinkering, not transformation.
From warring states to street gangs, ethnic groups and religious sects to political factions, there are common dynamics to heed and lessons to learn. Along the way, through Blattman’s time studying Medellín, Chicago, Sudan, England, and more, we learn from vainglorious monarchs, dictators, mobs, pilots, football hooligans, ancient peoples, and fanatics.
What of remedies that shift incentives away from violence and get parties back to dealmaking? Societies are surprisingly good at interrupting and ending violence when they want to—even gangs do it. Realistic and optimistic, this is a book that lends new meaning to the adage “Give peace a chance.”
The first African American commander in the Denver Police Department.
Denver’s first female police captain.
The first deputy commissioner for equity and inclusion in the New York City Police Department (NYPD).
And the cofounder of the Center for Policing Equity, an organization dedicated to reducing racial disparities and promoting cultural change within American police departments.
All told, Dr. Keesee has spent more than three decades thinking about police-community relations. Throughout her career, she has sought to advance what she calls “the co-production of public safety.” Dr. Keesee believes that police cannot create neighborhood safety by themselves. She has argued that police need to cede authority to communities in ways that departments have traditionally resisted. This includes listening to community voices who want to narrow the scope of police activity.
In the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd, Dr. Keesee contributed an opinion piece to The Washington Post entitled “After this crisis, policing should never be the same.” In it, she wrote, “As the deaths of Black men and women continue to mount and the collective pain of a community boils over, some argue that improving policing is pointless—that we’d be better off defunding departments entirely. I can sympathize; this is difficult and, at times, discouraging work. But on the other side of this crisis, we will still need policing in some form. We should strive to align it with the values of communities as much as possible.”
In the fall of 2021, Dr. Keesee spoke with Greg Berman, the Distinguished Fellow of Practice at The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation, about race and policing. This transcript of their conversation has been edited and condensed.
Berman: I’m curious to hear how the past couple of years have felt for you given the various cross-cutting identities that you inhabit — former police official, Black woman, reformer, grandmother, etc. What has it been like to walk in your shoes over the past twelve to twenty-four months?
Keesee: I would tell you that the number one thing that always comes out of my mouth is that it continues to be exhausting. For most of us who are in these intersections, it has been increasingly heavy over the last two years.
There is a lot of eagerness right now to understand how race is showing up and implicating criminal justice and law enforcement. But this work is hard. You have to be able to understand the different perspectives and try to help folks think through ways that we can move forward.
I am a part of a broader community that has historically experienced injustice. There are millions of people across this country who look like me and carry this burden of Blackness. It is both a joy and a burden. And it is weighing on me in ways that only Black police officers, and Black female police officers, would understand.
And then when you compound it with this pandemic that no one saw coming and that a lot of folks were not ready for…it makes you reevaluate what you believe about yourself and what you believe about others. So it’s been heavy. It’s exhausting and it’s tiring. You can burn out quickly if you don’t do self-care.
Rewind for me: why did you join the police force to begin with?
That was thirty-something years ago. I was looking for a job with benefits. I was a single parent at the time, and I needed to find something that provided a bit of stability and medical insurance. I come from a family of uniformed folks, but not in the policing realm. A military family. And my mother was a nurse. So we always have had this ethic of service that you should be doing something.
When I sat down to take the police test, I was twenty-five and I needed a job. I was born and raised in Denver. I applied to three places actually—Denver, Houston, and Colorado Springs. This would’ve been in 1989. My mother narrowed my options down really quickly saying, “One, you’re not moving to Houston, and two, you’re not moving to Colorado Springs.” Luckily enough, I got the call from Denver. And so that started my career.
I had an opportunity to serve my community and I did. I am one of the lucky ones, in that I was the commander of the district where I grew up. That was a big honor. But it also meant that a thousand eyes were on me, including my parents.
How do you think being a part of the police department changed you as a person?
It changed me in profound ways. It provided me with a huge learning opportunity, sort of a lab to do different things, to think about what’s happening and what are the determinants of crime. If it were not for the Denver PD, I would not be the person I am. I also would not have been prepared to go somewhere else and begin to try to have these conversations in a different way. So I honor my experience, because it has shaped me.
Whenever we have tragic events, the first thing that comes out of everyone's mouth is, “Well, they should do more training.” And that is not always going to be the appropriate answer... But one of the things that we still have not gotten really good at is doing long-term evaluations to see how people use their training.
When you look back on your career, you can see that you’ve grown in many different ways. I was able to meet just incredible people. But I was also exposed to the other side of things, people who were just downright nasty, racist, and misogynistic, where you wonder how some of these people can get into the uniform.
But, as I tell a lot of folks, I’m grateful for my career. I had somebody ask me if I would do it again. And I said, of course I would. I absolutely would. For me, the experience was definitely on the joyous side and the plus side. It was a pleasure. I enjoyed it.
How would you compare and contrast your experience in the Denver PD to the NYPD? Denver isn’t exactly a small town, but I would imagine that the NYPD is a whole different kind of ecosystem to operate within.
When you talk about the fundamentals, all departments have a lot in common. What is different is the culture within each department. The thing that struck me about NYPD is that it is very, very rich in tradition. There is a tremendous amount of reverence for that tradition. I learned that NYPD is a really large family. Of course, as with many families, there are dysfunctional uncles. But there are also people within the NYPD who are doing beautiful things in the community, trying very hard to provide safety.
You have to recognize the scale of the NYPD. When you are that size, you have to have processes and systems. In smaller agencies, you can do pilots much quicker. In very large organizations, it is hard for a commissioner to push change all the way down to the precinct level. There are exceptions to the rule, but most commissioners and chiefs only last four years on average. You can only get so much done in four years. And so that means that you have to prioritize. When you have commissioners that only last three or four years, the community’s expectations have to be managed about how much movement and change you can really make in four years.
I would say you get resistance to change no matter where you are because we’re cops, and we don’t want to change, period. I think in your larger organizations, it is a bigger challenge because you have folks who either don’t want to know or who are confused about what you’re asking them to do.
When you were at the NYPD, you oversaw the department’s training program. I was wondering whether you could help me make sense of how to think about the potential impacts of training. Obviously, we should be training officers for the roles we want them to play and the values we want them to embody. But a lot of the research I have been reading recently about implicit-bias training and anti-racist training induces skepticism about how effective it is in actually changing people’s behavior. So I guess my question to you is this: what should we reasonably expect of police training?
It’s a good question. Whenever we have tragic events, the first thing that comes out of everyone’s mouth is, “Well, they should do more training.” And that is not always going to be the appropriate answer.
One application of training is not going to give you the outcomes that I think people are looking for. Training for police officers is not always evidence-based. In some cases, folks are doing what we might call check-the-box, liability training, to protect themselves in case something bad happens.
We need to make sure we have the right people doing the right jobs. Once you do that, you can then begin to design your training around what outcomes you would like to see. We historically have not done outcome-based training. That has changed over the past ten to fifteen years. But one of the things that we still have not gotten really good at is doing long-term evaluations to see how people use their training.
You are now hearing some of the same conversations that happened in the ‘90s, that we are going to need more officers to get spiking crime under control. I think we need to be very careful about this.
We assume a lot. We assume that people leave the academy and eventually go on the streets and that all of their training is intact. That’s not necessarily the case. We really have not been clear about how officers are implementing their training. But body-worn cameras now allow you to go in and see if officers are using their training or not. This technology has really begun to move police training in ways which we just have not thought about before.
I would also say that the environment in which police learn is pretty important. Not everyone has an academy like NYPD. I don’t think the community understands that a lot of police organizations don’t have facilities like that. In smaller departments, if they get training once a year, they’re lucky.
There are a lot of things we have to look at. We have to look at whether the training is doing what it’s supposed to be doing. And then there is the actual officer. What is going on with that individual? How have they digested the training? Are there non–work related issues that are going on with that individual that may be complicating the way that they’re showing up at work? And that is just something we’ve historically never talked about. When you got sick, you still showed up for work. If you were going through a divorce, you showed up for work. If someone was terminally ill in your family, you showed up for work. You’ve got officers who are traumatized and the culture and the way in which we deal with that is still not healthy. So, for me, training is helpful for a lot of things but there’s also some real deep-dive questions still to be asked.
Do you have a take on why we’ve seen shootings go up in New York and other cities over the past year or two?
You have these conditions on the ground that are happening. You have a country that has a tremendous amount of firearms. You also have people who have been locked down. People have lost their jobs and they don’t have health care and they’re trying to feed their children and care for themselves and their mental health issues. You’ve got people who are desperate and they don’t have anything to lose. I think you also have parts of the community who are telling us that this has been happening for decades, that there’s been a lack of investment in people who are most in need.
You are now hearing some of the same conversations that happened in the ‘90s, that we are going to need more officers to get spiking crime under control. I think we need to be very careful about this. I 100-percent believe that there are occasions where you need to have someone who’s armed respond to a call for service. That is my experience. And that is just what it is. But what the community is also asking for—not all communities, but some—what they’re asking for is a lot of investment in prevention and a lot of focus on the social needs that people have and making sure that those things are also taken care of.
It is going to be interesting. We are seeing conversations about how to define public safety. Typically, the first thing you think about public safety is law enforcement. But when you talk to the community about it, the community is not thinking about law enforcement as the first priority for public safety. For them, public safety means housing security. It means food security. It means health care. They want to get those things in alignment and make sure that armed response personnel are not the primary thing you go to when you talk about public health safety. A lot of folks are trying different ways to get to that promise. Those types of experiments are what you’re watching play out in Minneapolis and a lot of other places as well.
In the op-ed that you wrote for The Washington Post last year, you expressed sympathy for those who argue for defunding the police, but also said that for the foreseeable future, we’re going to need policing to continue to exist. I don’t know if it’s how you intended it, but I read the piece as you trying to carve a path in between the abolitionists, on the one hand, and the people that believe we have to back the police, no matter what, on the other. I’m wondering what kind of response you got to the piece.
For me, it’s about finding a way to have a conversation where you don’t have to pick one or the other. There are clearly spaces where law enforcement does not belong. Because of the historical relationship with Black communities, I get it. I understand the concerns about calling 911. Why would you want to call somebody who comes to you, and you end up either hurt or dead? Every day folks are calling 911, and people are getting hurt, people are getting victimized.
What’s happening now is that there is a real conversation about alternative ways to respond. Take domestic violence. When I became an officer, there was no mandatory arrest policy for domestic violence. Then you had a movement and activism around mandatory arrest. Fast forward to today, when you have conversations with community members about domestic violence responses. In communities of color, the question is: why are the police coming? Because when they come, they set up a chain of things that happen that are not helpful for the family.
Over the last couple of years, there’s been a real awakening about how governments are providing service to their community and whether or not there's a political appetite to do what needs to be done for the good of communities. It is creating a tremendous amount of stress for service providers on the ground and for cops on the ground.
I can tell you as a police officer, I was really surprised to hear that. There are community members that do not believe police officers should be the first ones to respond to a domestic situation. And me, I’m thinking, some domestics are very violent. I question how you set it up where you have a service provider walk into a household that may be violent. But those are the kinds of conversations we are having today. The community is asking whether the mandatory arrest policy impacts women and men of color more so than anyone else and whether it is helpful in protecting individuals and family.
You have to allow space for these types of conversations. It’s what we’ve done for the last thirty years. Is it doing what we wanted it to do? Is it having an impact that we never anticipated? And if so, what other things should we be doing? I say all this recognizing that you have folks that absolutely don’t want that effort changed. You have to look at it from different perspectives and different lived experiences.
But the community is saying we need to take a deeper dive and really begin to ask ourselves some hard questions. And when we start really thinking about alternatives, it triggers other issues. It triggers issues of power. It triggers issues of who gets served. It triggers budget issues. Over the last couple of years, there’s been a real awakening about how governments are providing service to their community and whether or not there’s a political appetite to do what needs to be done for the good of communities. It is creating a tremendous amount of stress for service providers on the ground and for cops on the ground.
We’ve got to figure out a way to begin to shift things and provide service in a different way. And it doesn’t have to be the same in every community. What I’m talking about is customizing public safety for the neighborhood. How do communities define what it means to be safe, and how do we fund that to make sure that they have the safety that they need?
Talk to me about the history of policing in this country. Some people argue that American policing grows out of slave patrols. And then you have people like former NYPD Commissioner William Bratton who say that the roots of modern policing in the U. S. are in ideas that were first raised in England in the 19th century. Part of me thinks that this is just an academic debate, but part of me actually thinks that it is important to get this right, because it has implications for how we see our current problems with policing. Do you have any thoughts about that?
It’s not one or the other. You need to learn the whole story, the whole experience.
I had the pleasure and honor of working for Commissioner Bratton. I had many conversations with him about race and policing. He understands it. He gets it. He understands the whole ugly truth, the whole history.
You hear conversations about Sir Robert Peel and the [19th-Century] principles of policing that were brought over to the United States [from Britain]. That is true. But the roots of how we manage Black bodies clearly comes from our history and from slave patrols. When we talk about the great migration and Black folks trying to leave the South to go North for a better life, they’re met with the exact same thing—they were told to stay in this neighborhood, don’t think about taking these jobs. It’s the same thing.
This is what the conversations with police officers around race are about. They need to understand that slave patrols and Jim Crow laws and redlining—this is a part of our culture. Understanding that doesn’t mean you can’t also understand Robert Peel’s principles, which are, on their face, absolutely on point. Police are part of the community. But how those principles got implemented has been very erratic when you’re talking about policing in the United States.
One of the things that we have to be careful with is really trying to step over the bad part of our history. I think people often think when they hear talk about Jim Crow laws and things like that that it is ancient history, and why are we still talking about it. It is not ancient history. My mother is eighty-three. There are a lot of elders in our community who lived through this. This is not ancient history.
I think that when people are uncomfortable, they have a tendency to want to move through it. And that’s not what’s being asked for here. What’s being asked is that you understand what that uniform represents in different communities and what it has meant historically. When you can do that, then you can spend time in the community and not feel that you need to control the room and control the narrative. We don’t teach how to listen in the academy, for the most part. That’s a hard tactic to learn — to sit, to take it in. It’s going to make you feel some kind of way. How do you manage that? How do you manage being uncomfortable? There used to be an effort to try to make cops feel comfortable around these types of topics. That’s not happening anymore. There’s pure exhaustion around trying to make somebody feel okay about what is wrong.
Black folks are not all monolithic, they’re not all thinking the same way. They’re not all in agreement. That means that you have to create spaces where you’re hearing from a tremendous number of people. And that is the challenge for a lot of chiefs right now: how do you provide service for multiple perspectives around public safety?
The Center for Policing Equity’s motto is “justice through science.” I’m curious about how the organization is navigating the current moment when it feels like you have some on the right who are questioning the very notion of science. And then on the left, you have some academics who won’t acknowledge that there’s evidence that policing can make a positive difference. Does that make the terrain complicated for your organization?
At CPE, we have under our roof social scientists, of course, but we also have activists, we have former police officers, we have people from the community. We have incredible people who have chosen to join CPE. Because we are science-based, our North Star is what we believe will work. We have very difficult conversations on both the left and on the right about what policing should look like. We pride ourselves to be able to have those kinds of conversations with everybody. We try to bring unlikely folks into the same space. For us, it is about what is best for the community, what is best for public safety, and what is best for the police officers. But some days are hard, really hard.
I’ve heard you say that the window of opportunity for change is only going to stay open for a short time. Are you feeling optimistic, pessimistic, or something in between when you think about the conversation about policing in this country?
I’m always going to be somewhere in between, because I’ve lived through these cycles before. I do think that for policing itself, as a profession, there’s some self-reflection that is happening. But for me, the question is at what level is that happening? Because there’s always been a political disconnect between what the chiefs may want versus what the folks on the ground who do this every day are asking for. And so there has to be some internal reckoning around who are we and what are we supposed to be and to who.
Everybody wants the cops to be one way or another, but no one can give a straight answer when I ask them: what is their role? If their role is no longer to respond to X problem, then tell them that and train them for that. If their role is no longer to make low-level traffic stops, then tell them that, and train them for that. You also have to leave space for the human condition. In any employee setting, they’re going to be asking questions. And this is where we often find leadership breaks down. When officers ask, “Why are we doing this?” or, “What’s going on?,” oftentimes leadership can’t answer that question. There’s a void of silence.
I think that most cops have awareness of why we’re in this moment, but there’s still quite a few of them who don’t understand how we got here. And there are also some that don’t think it’s an issue and think this is something that was created just to divide folks. So I would tell you that many police chiefs today feel like they are walking through land mines.
Over the next five to ten years, it’s going to be interesting to look back to see what is really different. I see the people on the ground who are committed to doing the work. There is a tremendous amount of heart and optimism on the ground that we will get to the other side and that it will look and feel different. And so I tend to latch onto that.
Greg Berman is the Distinguished Fellow of Practice at The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation. He previously served as the executive director of the Center for Court Innovation for 18 years. His most recent book is Start Here: A Road Map to Reducing Mass Incarceration (The New Press).
Views expressed are the participants’ own and not necessarily those of The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation.
Dr. Maria (Mayte) Restrepo-Ruiz is a Research Associate with the Department of Public Health Sciences at the University of Connecticut. She completed her PhD work in the summer of 2021 titled Armed Conflict, Intimate Partner Violence and Women’s Mental Health in Colombia: An Explanatory Mixed-Methods Study.
“Intimate Partner Violence and Armed Conflict in Colombia” explores Dr. Restrepo-Ruiz’s research on the direct and indirect effects of the Colombian armed conflict with a focus on how it is associated with women’s increased risk of intimate partner violence and mental health problems.
In 2020, Dr. Restrepo received an HFG Dissertation Fellowship (now the HFG Emerging Scholar Award) for her project IPV in Armed Conflict Contexts: The Case of Colombia.
About “Armed Conflict, Intimate Partner Violence and Women’s Mental Health in Colombia: An Explanatory Mixed-Methods Study::
Colombia has one of the highest prevalence rates of intimate partner violence (IPV) against women in Latin America. Colombia is also a country that has experienced more than six decades of armed conflict that has led to the largest number of internally displaced people by armed conflict in the world. The purpose of this study was three-fold. First, it measured the armed conflict’s direct impact on women’s mental health. Second, it assessed the association between armed conflict intensity and intimate partner violence. Third, it compared intimate partner violence prevalence between women who were displaced and who were not displaced by the armed conflict and associated psychological wellbeing outcomes.
All armed actors in the Colombian conflict, government forces, guerrilla groups, and paramilitary armies, mainly used war strategies that intentionally targeted the civilian population. Between 1996 and 2018, 90% of all 252,249 war events documented by the Observatorio de Memoria y Conflicto corresponded to violence against civilians and the remaining 10% corresponded to direct confrontations between armed actors. Among events targeting civilians, 79% corresponded to selective tactics such as selective assassinations, kidnapping, sexual violence, forced recruitment of children, and forced disappearances. These tactics intentionally and selectively targeted individuals and families creating collective fear by attacking one person at a time, which made violence less visible to the public eye. Women represent a significant proportion (30%) of the victims of selective violence.
The findings of this research indicate that the armed conflict in Colombia directly affected the mental health of millions of individuals who are at higher risk from adverse mental health effects than the general Colombian population. A statistically significant association was found between experiencing depression, anxiety and post-traumatic stress symptoms and being a victim of sexual violence by armed groups, having a loved one forcibly disappeared, and witnessing massacres.
Furthermore, findings show that the armed conflict contributes to increased risk for intimate partner violence for women during times of high political violence. When armed conflict-related violence decreases or during post-conflict times, however, high intimate partner violence levels persist. The Colombian armed conflict intensified adherence to traditional gender roles and women’s subordinated position in society, which continued even after peace agreements. In addition, by increasing stress levels in intimate relationships, the armed conflict contributed to an elevated risk for intimate partner violence.
Lastly, this study showed that women who have been displaced by the armed conflict are at higher risk of experiencing intimate partner violence while they are also at higher risk experiencing negative outcomes in their psychological wellbeing than non-displaced women. The quantitative and qualitative findings of this study showed that women displaced by the armed conflict in Colombia experience multiple effects on their psychological wellbeing, including decreased self-esteem, distrust of people, and indicators of depression such as sadness and suicidal ideation.
Over the past couple of years, John Jay College professor Peter Moskos has been a prominent voice warning about the rise in violence in American cities and the potential perils of depolicing.
Moskos brings a unique point of view to the public conversation about policing: in addition to being a Harvard-trained sociologist, he spent more than a year working as a police officer in Baltimore, Maryland. That experience served as the basis for his first book, Cop in the Hood, which offers a first-person perspective on the challenges of street-level law enforcement.
Moskos is working on a new book, an oral history of the New York City crime decline that started in the 1990s, told from the perspective of police officers on the ground. In addition, he hosts a podcast, Quality Policing, and curates the Violence Reduction Project, a collection of essays about short- and medium-term strategies for reducing neighborhood violence.
Greg Berman, the Distinguished Fellow of Practice at The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation, talked to Moskos about New York City’s historic success reducing crime and incarceration and about what has gone wrong in recent years as shootings have increased. This transcript of their conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Greg Berman:Your father, Charles Moskos, was a sociologist who devoted his career to studying the military. Is it just a coincidence that you are a sociologist who spends a lot of time looking at paramilitary organizations?
Peter Moskos: I’m an apple that did not fall far from the tree. My brother’s a businessman in Holland, so he did not take that path. But both my dad and my mom, who’s still alive, were both thinkers so we had lots of intellectual conversations around the dinner table. I thought that everyone did, but when people would come over they would say, “No, this is a little bit odd.” I grew up in an intellectually rigorous household, but I was never pressured to follow in his footsteps. But I did. I went to the same college, and I’m in a field that’s shockingly similar to his. I think part of it was I saw that my parents were both teachers—my mom was a high school teacher—and we had a pretty good life. Certainly, I don’t think I’d be where I am now if it weren’t for them.
Your first book, Cop in the Hood, was about the time you spent working as a police officer in Baltimore. I’m interested in experiential learning versus book learning. How did your experience of being immersed in practice compare to your graduate studies?
It was very different.
When I started grad school in ‘95, I went to study something urban-related because I’ve always been a city boy. That was when murders were plummeting in New York. And when I read some of the literature, all the experts said it couldn’t happen. Not unless we fixed the root causes and changed society. That was the traditional sociological argument. I thought they were wrong on some fundamental level. It seemed obvious that the data didn’t fit the theory. I thought to myself that sociology is probably a good field to get into if all the leading experts are basically wrong about it.
In a graduate class, I read John Van Maanen’s Observations on the Making of Policemen, which is a great ethnographic work on the Seattle Police Department in the late ’60s. My original plan was just to replicate his study and look at socialization in the police academy. I set out to try to get access for that. It wasn’t easy. Police departments don’t want researchers. Certainly, they didn’t back then.
Most researchers aren’t part of the group they study, and, of course, there are issues about bias and objectivity. But absolutely the things I learned as a cop I could not have learned just as an observer.
But Baltimore said I could do it there. And when I got there, the politics had changed and there was a new commissioner. They said, “You can’t do it.” I said, “If I go back to Harvard, I don’t have a place to live.” And that’s when they said, “Well, why don’t you become a cop for real?” So that’s what I did. I went through the process and got hired. I told them that I was going to quit after a year and write a book about it. My advisor at Harvard was not pleased with this plan, but in the end, it all worked out.
Why was your advisor opposed to it?
I think he thought I’d pulled a bait-and-switch on him, because it wasn’t my original plan. Some of it might have been just pure class snobbery. Eventually it got smoothed over and ultimately he was supportive. But there were a rough couple of months there where I was having problems on both sides.
But I’m lucky. I think I could have gotten a dissertation out of my original research plan, but it wouldn’t have been anything more than that. The academy is not where the real story is. Ultimately, it is about being a cop on the street. Where I was assigned was a pretty good place to learn if you’re going to be a cop for a short period of time. Most researchers aren’t part of the group they study, and, of course, there are issues about bias and objectivity. But absolutely the things I learned as a cop I could not have learned just as an observer. And certainly as an observer, you wouldn’t have that access. And that experience in Baltimore has given me access to cops ever since. I can talk to cops because I walked a mile in their shoes.
Before we get into what’s gone wrong in New York and other cities of late, I want to spend a minute talking about what went right previously. When I talk to my kids about criminal justice in New York, I tell them that, up until very recently, basically every indicator that we care about was pointed in the right direction—crime was down, jail was down, complaints against the police were down, use of force was down, etc. They are shocked, because the only things they have heard about the criminal justice system are negative. What’s your answer to what New York City got right prior to the past two years?
Well, that’s what I’m working on right now. My next book is going to be an oral history of the crime drop in the ’90s. I think the fundamental thing that went right was when William Bratton became [New York City police] commissioner for the first time, he said, “We’re going to reduce crime, fear of crime, and disorder.” He got the police back in the crime-prevention game. That was really revolutionary. If you go back to the Kerner Commission [convened by President Johnson to study U.S. civil unrest in the 1960s], they articulated what became the sociological party line about crime: that we have to fix society to address crime and that police don’t play a large role in that. In fact, they blamed police for a lot of the riots that happened. And that was just accepted by everyone.
In New York City before Bratton, if you made arrests in 30 percent of the serious crimes, you were doing okay. As long as there was no scandal, you were fine. It was very much an anti corruption-obsessed department post–Serpico and the Knapp commission. That was business as usual. There just wasn’t any drive to do better.
Bratton effectively said, “To hell with that.” The idea of going back to the crime-prevention game was the major switch. It was essential that he said, “This is our job.” I think a big part of what has been lost over the last year or so is that police departments suddenly said, “Okay, we won’t be in the crime game again. If you’re worried about police use of force, we can focus on that and disengage.”
[The crime-tracking tool] CompStat gets a lot of credit, but at some level, it’s just a crime map. But it was an accountability tool and that was the key. It was about saying to precinct commanders, “This is your job and you have to know what’s going on.” The results were shockingly quick.
Violence in New York didn’t start to go down in 1995 because lead was removed in 1980. All those macro things, I’m not saying they don’t matter, but they don’t matter so much in New York City. It was so basic, this idea that the police should care about crime. Other departments quickly followed suit. It was basically saying, “This is our job again.” And we’re still going to worry about corruption, but we’re not going to be obsessed by it. And of course there are tons of little details, like the broken windows approach of saying we are going to focus on public order.
I want to return to broken windows in a minute, but first I wanted to ask you how much credence you give to Patrick Sharkey’s argument that some percentage of the crime decline in New York City was due to the existence of community groups, business improvement districts, and other nongovernmental organizations?
That’s part of the story, certainly. I don’t focus on it because I’m focused on policing. But my book actually starts with three stories that don’t get enough attention, that really have very little to do with policing. Bryant Square Park reopened in 1990. The Times Square business improvement district remade Times Square. And the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey started cleaning up the bus terminal. The courts in New York ruled that the Port Authority and the subway system could make and enforce rules. They said that begging on the train wasn’t a constitutional right. It couldn’t have been done without that course correction. All this happened before the crime drop and, in a way, set the stage for it.
To say it's bail reform's fault that shootings have gone up is not accurate. But people are using bail reform as a proxy for the whole movement in general. In that sense, I think it's a fair criticism.
Another important milestone was getting graffiti off the subways in the ’80s. This was significant because it was the first victory against disorder that the city had seen in literally decades. This problem that was supposedly insurmountable was fixed. The idea that we can actually make a difference here was, I think, an important philosophical foundation for what happened in policing.
But the actual major decline in violence was primarily, I think, a focus on gun offenders and on public order. The police got back in the crime-prevention game. But I don’t want to dismiss these other things. New York was also in a good position. Compared to other cities, we had money. We also have a rich tapestry of treatment and alternative-to-incarceration programs. They’re all little pieces in the jigsaw puzzle. Collectively, I have to assume it makes a difference.
Let’s talk about broken windows. In other forums, you have said that broken windows policing has basically ended in New York City. I’m wondering what your reaction is to those who argue, “Well, that’s a good thing because it lightens the touch of the system, particularly on overpoliced populations like young Black men”?
I would say: ask people in those neighborhoods what they want. There’s a great strain of paternalism out there. People are telling other people how their neighborhoods should be policed.
Broken windows is not the cause of mass incarceration. It’s about changing behavior. When broken windows was first implemented, it was part of a community policing strategy. Bratton certainly saw it as community policing. It was part of the police asking the community what they wanted us to do. It was a bottom-up approach.
[Co-author of the broken windows concept] George Kelling, before he died, said maybe broken windows was a bad metaphor in hindsight, because he never expected the phrase to take off like it did. And he certainly saw problems in the way it was interpreted. But Kelling and Bratton were close until the end. Bratton really did fundamentally change the police department culture. And broken windows was a part of that.
But the problem is that after Bratton left, some things went off the rails. I’m pretty sure that stop, question, and frisk would not have taken over the police department in the late 2000’s had Bratton still been commissioner. That’s what a lot of people say and I believe that. Bratton was very much against zero-tolerance policing. Those two concepts have gotten linked by opponents, but they’re fundamentally at odds.
In terms of broken windows, I think the label has become toxic, but you could come up with a new name and do the same concepts again. Because we are having the same problems again.
I know that you haven’t done an empirical study, but what’s your sense of whether bail reform actually has had an impact on the streets of New York?
The idea that it has no impact is crazy. When people don’t get detained, some of them commit crimes. I don’t think it’s a huge number, but it’s not zero.
But bail reform is being used as a crude weapon to say, “Something’s going wrong, let’s blame bail reform.” Bail reform is a multifaceted thing and much of it is good. But, as I’ve said on Twitter recently, the absurd parts are so absurd. You could just fix it. You could allow judges to consider public dangerousness. You could fix the witness disclosure part of it. There are a few things that would be so easy to fix, and you could have the rest of it. But the politicians and activists who are rooted in the police and prison abolition philosophy don’t want to fix it.
So to say it’s bail reform’s fault that shootings have gone up is not accurate. But people are using bail reform as a proxy for the whole movement in general. In that sense, I think it’s a fair criticism.
Speaking of the movement, on Twitter you have written, “Prominent police reformers don’t want better policing, they want less policing and abolition. Reform is too often a disingenuous tool masking a misguided, dangerous, and unpopular goal.” Do you think that anything good has come out of the Black Lives Matter protests?
My first thought is no, but that’s not entirely true. Police do need accountability. And they’re not inclined to be self-reflective on that matter. Part of the reason I think New York is better in policing than other cities is because there has been accountability. Al Sharpton is a divisive figure in policing circles, but he and others did hold the NYPD’s feet to the fire. And the NYPD is better because of that. They don’t get away with things other departments do. Police should be under pressure. Police need critics. In that sense, it’s good.
How do you respond to the argument that American policing is rotten to its core, that it has its roots in slave patrols and that it is essentially a mechanism for oppressing Black people and always has been?
Well, it’s historically just inaccurate. I think it’s an important issue. It’s not just an academic debate, because this claim does lay the groundwork for everything that follows. If it were true that policing was a legacy of slavery, then yeah, you’d want to get rid of it. I think there’s a parallel to the 1619 controversy. Is American policing a bad concept that we’re doing our best with, or is it a good concept with flaws?
There’s no mystery how police in the North were established. And even in the South, before it came crashing down with the end of Reconstruction, the police were set up by an occupying army imposing a northern way. And it failed, unfortunately.
Look, it was a weird year and there was COVID, but the evidence that [the increased violence] was policing-related is pretty strong. Police got out of the crime-prevention game. There was a push and a pull that led to less policing.
It is true that, wherever they are, policing reflects American society and American society has often been quite ugly. Police are a part of city politics, and that was a pretty flawed institution when we’re talking about the late 1800s.
I recently looked at Frederick Douglass’s newspaper in Rochester, New York, because he was writing when police were established in Rochester. If it were really a White supremacist concept, you’d think he might have said something about it. But it just wasn’t on their radar.
Look, at a functional level, policing fills a need. That’s why abolishing policing will never work. Someone’s going to fill that vacuum. I’d much prefer to have it done by public employees who have to abide by the Constitution as opposed to private security guards and gangs. These experiments in Seattle or Minneapolis where you have police-free zones, they all come crashing down. We’re not ready for that yet.
Do you think that the police in New York have a legitimacy problem?
Legitimacy is a relatively new concept. Legitimacy is important for any organization, especially policing. But the same people that raise the issue of legitimacy are the ones actively working to undermine police legitimacy. The same people who are saying that police need to be more legitimate are also saying that they’re slave catchers. Well, you can’t be legitimate if you’re a slave catcher. So I find that argument disingenuous.
I think legitimacy is an outcome of good policing, broadly defined. Policing has legitimacy when it’s effective. That’s how police gain legitimacy primarily. Legitimacy is more of an effect than a cause, I think. Some people are never going to like cops for ideological reasons. And I don’t see any efforts to increase the legitimacy that actually do increase it.
I don’t think the public really cares or knows about the clearance rate.
That’s probably true, but I’m asking if the clearance rates have gone down because people are less willing to participate in investigations.
I think there’s a link to bail reform. I talked to a reporter the other day who said that she is hearing people in the streets say that they’re not willing to be witnesses because they can’t remain confidential. That hasn’t gotten any attention yet. That does a lot to decrease the legitimacy of the system.
I also think that there’s more crime and that does lower clearance rates. When shootings double, you can be certain clearance rates are going to go down because suddenly there are twice as many cases. It’s not like they have twice as many detectives to resolve these things.
Look, it’s not like people were talking to the cops ever. I mean, the very first shooting I handled, the victim wouldn’t tell me his name. The idea that you don’t talk to cops, it’s been around forever. It’s very hard to convict someone if you don’t have someone who’s willing to testify. I’m inclined to believe it’s gotten a bit worse recently, but we don’t actually have data on that. And then the question is: why has it gotten worse? Well, if a guy’s got a gun and he’s not detained and he’s back on the street, then I think it’s understandable that people don’t want to tell the cops. The fact that the system isn’t working like it used to has an impact.
Tell me about your Violence Reduction Project, in which you invite a variety of people to explain how they would reduce violence. Are there good ideas out there that you’ve been unearthing beyond Cure Violence and focused deterrence?
When shootings started to rise in 2020, you had respected academics saying, “Violence can’t be up this much.” And then you had people saying, “Well, it was worse in 1990.” What a stupid debate to be having. I don’t care that it was worse in 1990. It just doubled now. More people are getting shot every week. This is real. And then, very quickly, you started to hear the same arguments that you heard in previous decades: “We have to fix society.”
Look, it was a weird year and there was COVID, but the evidence that [the increased violence] was policing-related is pretty strong. Police got out of the crime-prevention game. There was a push and a pull that led to less policing. Some of it was changing laws and decriminalization and legalization and nonprosecution. And some of it was police saying, “Well, screw it.” Cops are upfront about this. They’re like, “Yeah, if I see someone with a gun, I’ll still go after them. But if I see someone suspicious in an alley, I’ll just drive on. Because if I stop him, what if a crowd gathers and he resists and I have to use force and suddenly…” The bottom line is there was less policing and that correlates perfectly with violence in a way that COVID or the economy doesn’t.
Just hearing gunshots outside your house is traumatic. Most privileged people have no connection to that level of violence. And I think that's part of the problem. It needs to be a higher priority.
So I said to myself, well, maybe I should figure out what can be done. So I put that website together. The only condition for contributors to the violence reduction project is: I don’t want long-term solutions. It’s got to be short- or medium-term. And it has to be somewhat feasible, politically. Give me your solution.
Do you have a favorite among the contributions?
They’re all my babies, but I think gun prosecution is key. It was key in the ’90s and it’s key now. You have to crack down on gun offenders. That’s probably the single most effective thing that can happen. But that’s more of a prosecutorial thing than a police thing, because cops are arresting the gun offenders, at least in New York.
But part of me doesn’t want to have a favorite because I think you do have to do everything. I want effective violence interrupters, though I do think it’s vastly overblown. I don’t think any of it will work without police. For these programs to work, you need a certain level of public safety. You’re not going to improve society if people are getting shot every day on your block, or you hear gunshots. For people to say that things were worse in 1990, I don’t think they understand the trauma of gun violence. It really should dominate everything.
I think, in particular, people don’t understand the ripple effects of shootings.
Just hearing gunshots outside your house is traumatic. Most privileged people have no connection to that level of violence. And I think that’s part of the problem. It needs to be a higher priority. In terms of absolute death, it’s actually about 20,000 a year, which is less than a lot of things. But the trauma is so much greater. People sometimes say, “Well, someone was shot, but they will recover.” No, you don’t. You don’t recover from a gunshot wound, really, ever.
How hopeful are you about New York City Mayor Eric Adams and the new administration?
Adams wasn’t my first choice, but I’ve liked everything he’s said and done since the primary. And it’s interesting that he basically won all of Black and brown New York while the progressives all voted for Maya Wiley and all the New York Times readers voted for Kathryn Garcia.
A lot of New York still speaks with a New York accent. I think it’s important that Eric Adams feels that that’s his base. And he made crime an issue. No one else was talking about crime before he did. As I said before, before you can solve the problem, first you have to say, we’re going to care about this. So I think Adams is passing that first test. The devil is in all the details, but I do have an atypical feeling of optimism right now.
Do you think Adams will close Rikers Island?
Rikers is a frustrating issue. Who would have thought that the plan to close it was going to get outflanked from the left? Rikers is horrible. But I think the left may have effectively killed the idea of building new jails. At some point, there are going to have to be jail beds for people, whether they’re on Rikers or somewhere else. The idea that we’re going to achieve prison abolition simply by closing prisons…it’s not going to happen. I fear it’s going to backfire. I don’t want a right-wing overreaction.
From the outside looking in, it seems like the intellectual climate in the academy is bad right now and that things have become very politicized. Do you think this is a fair assessment? And have you paid any professional price when you have departed from the social justice orthodoxy of the moment?
I don’t think so. I’m always afraid it’ll happen. I think it helps that I’m in a nontraditional department in terms of my academic field. I think it also helps that I’m not a right winger, though certainly I know many people think I am.
Academics are a weird breed. It’s amazing how afraid academics are. My own theory is that the PhD weeds out people who don’t comply. In my mind, the press is a bigger issue. I hear from respected older journalists a lot and they’re afraid. They’re afraid of the newsroom. That’s troublesome, that idea that objectivity is somehow bad.
I do find in general that the left is far less willing to engage. I don’t get invited to those panels. They don’t want to hear dissenting views, and I think that’s worrisome. There is an attack on the traditional model of free speech that I think is probably the single most dangerous part of the movement. But hopefully the pendulum will swing back.
Greg Berman is the Distinguished Fellow of Practice at The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation. He previously served as the executive director of the Center for Court Innovation for 18 years. His most recent book is Start Here: A Road Map to Reducing Mass Incarceration (The New Press).
Views expressed are the participants’ own and not necessarily those of The Harry Frank Guggenheim Foundation.
