Crime And Punishment In American History Part 10

Sensational crimes and and ba.n.a.l crimes both show the impact of the culture of the self. The whole country was shocked, in 1924, when Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb murdered Bobbie Franks in Chicago; that was "the crime of the century" (see chapter 17). ba.n.a.l crimes both show the impact of the culture of the self. The whole country was shocked, in 1924, when Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb murdered Bobbie Franks in Chicago; that was "the crime of the century" (see chapter 17).10 What was appalling about this crime was that Leopold and Loeb had no real motive, in the cla.s.sic sense. They were college students, extremely bright, members of rich Jewish families; Bobbie Franks was a neighbor, a mere boy, also from a rich Jewish family. Loeb and Leopold kidnapped Franks and left a ransom note. But money was hardly their aim; they had plenty of money themselves. The two friends were worlds away from the conventional image of the criminal-feebleminded and lower cla.s.s. Leopold, in particular, was a brilliant scholar. s.e.x did not appear to be a motive, either. Why, then, did they kill? No one knows for sure; apparently for the thrill of it, the high, the expressive, orgiastic rush that came from the sensation of crime. What was appalling about this crime was that Leopold and Loeb had no real motive, in the cla.s.sic sense. They were college students, extremely bright, members of rich Jewish families; Bobbie Franks was a neighbor, a mere boy, also from a rich Jewish family. Loeb and Leopold kidnapped Franks and left a ransom note. But money was hardly their aim; they had plenty of money themselves. The two friends were worlds away from the conventional image of the criminal-feebleminded and lower cla.s.s. Leopold, in particular, was a brilliant scholar. s.e.x did not appear to be a motive, either. Why, then, did they kill? No one knows for sure; apparently for the thrill of it, the high, the expressive, orgiastic rush that came from the sensation of crime.

Some sixty-seven years later, on November 16, 1991, Patricia Lexie was riding with her husband along the eastern edge of Washington, D.C., on the interstate highway. A car drew alongside. A man leaned out of the window and fired a shot, hitting Patricia in the head. She died almost immediately. She was twenty-nine years old, recently married. A few days later, the police arrested a high school dropout, nineteen years old, and charged him with the crime. He had a long record of criminal violence. But what was his motive? Patricia was a stranger; there was no robbery, no rape. Before the shooting, he had told some friends, "I feel like killing someone."11 Essentially, this was a replay of the killing of Bobbie Franks, only more impulsive-and, by 1991, much more ba.n.a.l. Essentially, this was a replay of the killing of Bobbie Franks, only more impulsive-and, by 1991, much more ba.n.a.l.

Crime certainly feeds on poverty; but for many young men, as Mercer L. Sullivan of the Vera Inst.i.tute has argued, it has meaning "beyond its monetary returns." In the neighborhoods Sullivan studied, the young men who do crime call success in crime "getting paid" and "getting over," terms that "convey a sense of triumph and of irony." These young men steal not only to gain money, but to fulfill a sense of (male) self. Of course, they use the money to buy things; but what they buy is not food or shelter. Fancy clothes are their "first consumption priority. Next comes recreation, including ... drugs and alcohol ... sports ... movies and dances." They partic.i.p.ate in crime "to share in the youth culture that is advertised in the ma.s.s media," a culture that middle-cla.s.s kids can afford to buy on their own, without without stealing. stealing.12 Crime, supposedly, does not pay; but this is not obvious to the naked eye. Many crimes, in fact, look like they do pay-and quickly, too. Drug dealing is one; robbery is another. Theft produces money which, if not effortless, is at least not earned by hard work in the usual sense. Theft is a way for young kids (males, almost exclusively) to make quick money, instant money. In 1990, a group of young men in New York tried to rob a family of tourists from Utah; in the scuffle that followed, they killed one family member, a twenty-two year-old man, who was trying to protect his mother. The point of the crime was to get money to go dancing. Which is exactly what they did after the crime. They went dancing.13 The twentieth-century world is, after all, the world of ma.s.s media. It is the world of radio, the movies, and, most strikingly, TV. It is self-centered, fast, glitzy, a world of instant communication. Crime in the United States (and elsewhere in the West) may be, in a sense, the price society pays for an open society, a ma.s.s-communication society, a society that stresses individualism and choice.14 The outburst of crime in the twentieth century tracks, suspiciously, the apparent shift at the margin that Susman and Bell have noticed: away from emphasis on self-control, toward emphasis on expressive individualism. The effect on criminal justice is pervasive. It is certainly not all bad. It has paved the way, for example, to reform in crimes of morality, to a decrease in legally-enforced repression; we have noted its impact at many points in preceding chapters. The outburst of crime in the twentieth century tracks, suspiciously, the apparent shift at the margin that Susman and Bell have noticed: away from emphasis on self-control, toward emphasis on expressive individualism. The effect on criminal justice is pervasive. It is certainly not all bad. It has paved the way, for example, to reform in crimes of morality, to a decrease in legally-enforced repression; we have noted its impact at many points in preceding chapters.

Cultural and personality change has an impact on crime and criminal justice that goes beyond the examples mentioned. For one thing, the culture simply does not encourage people to be modest, self-effacing, to submerge their egos, to sacrifice their personal desires on the altar of some higher cause. The culture exalts the self. It exalts personal success. But not everybody can have have success, however you define it. There are millions of failed, stunted, poverty-stricken selves. Many of these are people who cannot swallow failure. success, however you define it. There are millions of failed, stunted, poverty-stricken selves. Many of these are people who cannot swallow failure.

Failure, like success, is culturally and psychologically defined. In the nineteenth century, a poor but "respectable" person was presumably no failure. An immigrant dishwasher, escaped from some war-torn, starving country, may think of himself, or herself, lucky to be alive, lucky to be working, lucky to be on the way to a better life. A middle-cla.s.s American would regard this job and this life as absolute failure. A sense of failure can breed radical discontent; in some instances, crime. At least this seems plausible. In any event, crime may seem like a better or easier way to "get paid," to lay in a stock of gratification, than any of the obvious alternatives. Education, professional training, talent, and skill pay off; but not everybody can even dream of going these routes, and poverty weighs the swimmer down with stones. For truncated, dead-end lives, lives at the bottom of the barrel, there seems to be no real alternative to crime, except low-paid, low-status jobs (if you can get them). When the choice is between selling hamburgers at McDonald's for minimum wage and running errands for drug dealers or stealing, the illegal options may seem a lot more attractive. The temptations are great-in this culture.

"Crime" is a label attached to certain ways people act; but people are trained, or socialized, as children how to think and how to act and how to feel. We can reject the idea of born criminals without rejecting the idea that crime begins, as it were, in the cradle; certainly, in the home, or the neighborhood environment. There has been, in contemporary society, a dramatic shift in the nature of authority authority.15 Authority was once vertical; it was above you and beyond you; it was what you looked up to. Authority gave you orders and rules. It worked slowly and carefully, within the family, the neighborhood, the village, the whole local ambience. It was the adult voice of the community. Authority was organized in the shape of a pyramid; the higher up one went in society, the greater the authority. But the base of the pyramid-your family, your teachers, the adults in your life-probably had the most powerful impact on your own personality and culture. Authority was once vertical; it was above you and beyond you; it was what you looked up to. Authority gave you orders and rules. It worked slowly and carefully, within the family, the neighborhood, the village, the whole local ambience. It was the adult voice of the community. Authority was organized in the shape of a pyramid; the higher up one went in society, the greater the authority. But the base of the pyramid-your family, your teachers, the adults in your life-probably had the most powerful impact on your own personality and culture.

Authority is still a pyramid; but, relatively speaking, it has somewhat flattened out; it is no longer so sharp and so steep, certainly not in the United States. Today, one might speak of authority as rather more horizontal. There are criminal families, but most families do not teach children crime. The vertical authority of families and other adult groups is not what it used to be. What has grown stronger in the twentieth century is the horizontal power of the peer group, and the power of a culture that disdains authority and glorifies the individual self. The ma.s.s media-radio, movies, and above all, television-have to shoulder a good deal of the blame. The modern personality, practically from day one of life, is exposed to powerful influences that compete with family authority. The outside world, with all its power, its incredible wealth of images and colors, its infinitude of models and suggestions, breaks in electronically from distant places to overwhelm the child-and its parents.

It is a cliche to talk about the crumbling of the family. The family is is crumbling, in all sorts of senses. Traditionalists worry about the decay of the nuclear family. But probably the crumbling, in all sorts of senses. Traditionalists worry about the decay of the nuclear family. But probably the form form of the family is not so important; it probably does not really matter whether a child has one mother and no father, or two fathers and no mother, or three mothers and no father, or lives in a commune, or is raised by wolves. It is the authority of the family, the values, the love, and the discipline, that matters. Disintegration of family of the family is not so important; it probably does not really matter whether a child has one mother and no father, or two fathers and no mother, or three mothers and no father, or lives in a commune, or is raised by wolves. It is the authority of the family, the values, the love, and the discipline, that matters. Disintegration of family authority, authority, if that is what is happening, is much more serious than disintegration of forms. It is hard to tell whether horizontal authority and the media are if that is what is happening, is much more serious than disintegration of forms. It is hard to tell whether horizontal authority and the media are causes causes of this disintegration, or whether their powers are effects. Maybe both. of this disintegration, or whether their powers are effects. Maybe both.

The Self and Its Limits The novelty and impact of modern individualism on crime and criminal justice should not, of course, be exaggerated. The American system of criminal justice has always professed a deep concern for the self, for individual responsibility. The system makes the claim that every person accused of crime is a unique individual, uniquely treated; guilt, innocence, and desert are cut to the order of the individual. A criminal trial is by and large tailored to this end. The ideology of individual justice is quite old; so is the yawning chasm between ideal and reality. Every chapter of this book has tried to show, one way or another, how this ideal is violated, disregarded, compromised.

But changes in the twentieth century, particularly in the late twentieth century, show a consistent pattern. To take one example, the nineteenth-century penitentiary was highly regimented and disciplined; the twentieth-century prison is much more anarchic; indeed, by some accounts, groups of inmates run run the prison; internally, the prison has become much more "horizontal." the prison; internally, the prison has become much more "horizontal."

Horizontal, yes, but individualistic? The prisoners are organized, after all, into cliques, gangs, race groups, ethnic groups. Outside, in the crime world, too, peer groups are everywhere. In many ways, this, too, is not new. Nineteenth-century writers complained about gangs, especially the tough gangs of the young who ruled the city streets. Sheldon and Eleanor Glueck of Harvard Law School, studying delinquents in the late 1920s, remarked on the power of the group. A young crimecommitter was liable more than half the time to be "a.s.sociated with one or more companions in the commission of the offense."16 Frederick M. Thrasher carried out a cla.s.sic study of gangs in Chicago in the twenties. Gangs, Thrasher wrote, "represent the spontaneous efforts of boys to create a society for themselves where none adequate to their needs exists." He adds that boys in the gang get something out of gang life that society cannot give them: "the thrill and zest of partic.i.p.ation in common interests, more especially in corporate action, in hunting, capture, conflict, flight, and escape." For gang members, conflicts with other gangs and with "the world about them" are "exciting group activities" that add zest and spice and meaning to life. Frederick M. Thrasher carried out a cla.s.sic study of gangs in Chicago in the twenties. Gangs, Thrasher wrote, "represent the spontaneous efforts of boys to create a society for themselves where none adequate to their needs exists." He adds that boys in the gang get something out of gang life that society cannot give them: "the thrill and zest of partic.i.p.ation in common interests, more especially in corporate action, in hunting, capture, conflict, flight, and escape." For gang members, conflicts with other gangs and with "the world about them" are "exciting group activities" that add zest and spice and meaning to life.17 Bland theories of "differential a.s.sociation" or the rather arid statistical demonstrations of how crime intersects with poverty and the like, hardly convey this "thrill" or "zest." Jack Katz, a sociologist, writes that the closer one looks at crime, "the more vividly relevant become the moral emotions." People do not commit crimes because they want or need money, Katz argues. There have been times, of course, when people stole just to stay alive. But today, for many people who steal and ravage, crime is a "way of life." Violent or criminal acts can produce a real high; there are "emotional processes" going on that "seduce people to deviance."18 No theory of crime can ignore the social background of criminals; crime is the statistical and social companion of poverty, unemployment, social disorganization. But these factors cannot explain individual individual behavior; this is one reason why Katz's thesis has a certain dark attractiveness. It also fits in with the notion of crimes of the self. The exaltation of the self does not conflict with the idea of the gang. The self is horizontally organized; it rejects, in whole or in part, the vertical authority of family, law, elites. It seeks out the like-minded. "Conformity" is behavior; this is one reason why Katz's thesis has a certain dark attractiveness. It also fits in with the notion of crimes of the self. The exaltation of the self does not conflict with the idea of the gang. The self is horizontally organized; it rejects, in whole or in part, the vertical authority of family, law, elites. It seeks out the like-minded. "Conformity" is not not, paradoxically, inconsistent with the idea of radical individualism. To the contrary, it is part of its essence. What people conform to is fashions and fads. Traditional societies never talked about conformity; it was taken for granted. The concept is distinctly modern. It implies the possibility of not conforming. Conformity recognizes choice: choice is inherent in selecting the group, the gang, the peers. When the conformist sees everybody around him wearing a certain style of sneakers, or certain cuts or colors of clothes, he is seized with a pa.s.sion to do the same. The conformist is a sheep; but he chooses (or thinks he chooses) his flock.19 Against crimes of the self, the criminal justice system may be singularly impotent. The creaky machinery of justice a.s.sumes two things: a strong system of socialization, which does most of the work, leaving only some odds and ends and bits and pieces to be taken care of by criminal process; and a stem, efficient system of punishment to teach a lesson to those few who have not gotten the point. A narcissistic, rootless social order, in which even a small fraction of the population does not swallow and embody traditions of morality, is more than it can handle. Such a social order overwhelms the loose, disjointed system of criminal justice whose development this book has tried to describe.

American society exalts the individual; but human beings are inherently social. People are animals that live in families, packs, and clans. They are not solitary hunters-they are wolves, not panthers on the prowl. Wolf packs produce a good deal of modern crime. As the family weakens, as horizontal authority replaces vertical authority, some people, especially young males, detach from the larger society and reattach to wolf packs-to groups much more p.r.o.ne to that behavior which the rest of us label as crime. Crime and antisocial behavior also come from the packless wolves, from the loners, the unattached, the drifters and grifters of society. These, too, as we have seen, are particularly liable to be victims of the system as well.

Criminal Justice and Popular Culture Crime is endlessly fascinating to the public. The rise of "yellow journalism" fed the reader's desire for sensational, scandalous, absorbing events. The twentieth century was, if anything, even more obsessed with crime and news of crime.

Executions are no longer public in this century. But the press is public, and newspapers continued to recount every gruesome detail. Twentieth-century executions took place in the bowels of the big house. The newspapers followed them there. When Ruth Snyder was electrocuted at Sing Sing in 1928, it was front-page news in the New York newspapers. Here was one account: "Tomb-like silence. Ruth Snyder in the electric chair. The crunching sound of the executioner cramming down a lever. A sinister whine and a crackling, sputtering sound like a Fourth of July sparkler. Silence.... Then the prison physician breaking the silence with these words: 'I declare this woman dead."'20 Thomas Howard, a reporter on special a.s.signment for the Thomas Howard, a reporter on special a.s.signment for the New York Daily News New York Daily News, sat in the front row, with a concealed camera on his ankle. As the first jolt of electricity surged through Ruth Snyder's body, Howard took a sensational photograph, which the newspaper printed. People gasped in horror-but they bought, and they looked. No need, in this case, to rely on "artist's conceptions." The camera was there.

The fascination with crime and criminal justice never flags. The hero is not always the cop or the detective. There is a certain tendency to glorify the outlaw as well, or at least certain outlaws. This is an old strain in American literature, and in stories people tell and retell.21 An enormous literature, and an enormous mythology, surrounds outlaws and gunmen of the Old West-Billy the Kid, Jesse James, Wyatt Earp. In the twentieth century, there was Bonnie and Clyde, who were, among other things, the subjects of an extremely successful movie; in the Hollywood of the thirties and forties, there was a rash of gangster movies; they cleaned up at the box office. The censors insisted that crime could not look as if it paid in the movies; still, crime had an awfully good run for its money. An enormous literature, and an enormous mythology, surrounds outlaws and gunmen of the Old West-Billy the Kid, Jesse James, Wyatt Earp. In the twentieth century, there was Bonnie and Clyde, who were, among other things, the subjects of an extremely successful movie; in the Hollywood of the thirties and forties, there was a rash of gangster movies; they cleaned up at the box office. The censors insisted that crime could not look as if it paid in the movies; still, crime had an awfully good run for its money.

Later on, in the seventies and eighties, The G.o.dfather The G.o.dfather and its two sequels were even more successful in making money. and its two sequels were even more successful in making money. The G.o.dfather The G.o.dfather was a glossy, Technicolor update of the gangster movies. It, along with many other movies about crime families, carried a disturbing message hidden in the folds of the narrative. The message was this: members of criminal gangs are really ordinary businessmen who just happen to do crime (including murder) for a living, and a very good living at that. The flickering screen invests these men with that peculiar combination of glamor and ba.n.a.lity that are the essence of a celebrity culture. was a glossy, Technicolor update of the gangster movies. It, along with many other movies about crime families, carried a disturbing message hidden in the folds of the narrative. The message was this: members of criminal gangs are really ordinary businessmen who just happen to do crime (including murder) for a living, and a very good living at that. The flickering screen invests these men with that peculiar combination of glamor and ba.n.a.lity that are the essence of a celebrity culture.

The celebrity criminal, like the celebrity outlaw, did not spring up overnight in the twentieth century. The twentieth century simply stepped up the pace. Defendants in the great trials are, of course, celebrities par excellence. Harry K. Thaw, tried for the murder of Stanford White in the early years of the century, was a celebrity defendant. When Thaw escaped (from an insane asylum), fled to Canada, and was arrested there and held, crowds of Canadians gathered to catch a glimpse of him in his place of confinement: "Men and women almost trampled upon each other in a mad rush to shake his hand. When he went to the courtroom he rode in an open carriage, acclaimed by the populace, lifting his hat and bowing right and left like an emperor."22 There always seems to be at least one woman ready to throw herself at the feet of a famous murderer (or alleged murderer) or to marry a convict on death row. Few women are on death row, but Ruth Snyder, waiting to die at Sing Sing, got "many offers of marriage." There always seems to be at least one woman ready to throw herself at the feet of a famous murderer (or alleged murderer) or to marry a convict on death row. Few women are on death row, but Ruth Snyder, waiting to die at Sing Sing, got "many offers of marriage."23 After all, a celebrity is a celebrity. After all, a celebrity is a celebrity.

Ultimately, it is impossible to tell what impact movies and stories about gangsters have on the public; after all, outlaw themes are popular in many cultures, even those where crime rates are low and people do not tremble in fear of muggers and burglars. There is, I think, a distinction between outlaw themes in older cultures and those we find in modern America. The gangsters are not heroes heroes, but celebrities; and it is worth saying a word or two about celebrity culture, which seems particularly strong in the United States. It seems less in character for j.a.pan or Finland to put Elvis Presley on a postage stamp.

To begin with, a "celebrity" is not the same as an "authority." The celebrity is an object of envy and wonder, but not of deference. Of course, people fawn on celebrities-disgustingly so-but in the hope that some of it will rub off on them, not because of the kind of charisma that surrounded the ancient offices of king or chief. The celebrity is, psychologically speaking, close to the man or woman on the street. Celebrities are mostly people who have special talent at doing what many of us do ourselves; only they do it better. A n.o.bel prize-winning physicist is not a celebrity; a rock star or basketball player is. They are heightened forms of the popular, commonplace selves, the man and woman on the street. Thus celebrity culture rests on a paradox: being different means being just like us.24 The celebrity, then, is the idealized modern self. It is what we want to be, and what we might might be with luck or skill. The celebrity, as a model, is morally neutral-a movie star, the president, a great criminal. It would be wrong to say that people admire or model themselves on, say, serial killers; but a celebrity culture weakens ideas of deference and respect, it erodes standards of inherited morality, all of which are the sunken piles that hold up the system of criminal justice. be with luck or skill. The celebrity, as a model, is morally neutral-a movie star, the president, a great criminal. It would be wrong to say that people admire or model themselves on, say, serial killers; but a celebrity culture weakens ideas of deference and respect, it erodes standards of inherited morality, all of which are the sunken piles that hold up the system of criminal justice.

It should come as no surprise, then, that the criminal justice system cannot compete with the culture, cannot go against the grain. In the battle of norms and goals, it is distinctly marginal; more than a spear-carrier, but very much less than a star. It cannot-in our society-even hope to crush crime. Crime is far too complicated; its roots are too deep. Thus the eternal sense of frustration, the smell of failure that surrounds the system.

I cannot repeat often enough that I am talking about marginal marginal changes, tendencies and shifts, which may be quite slight. After all, as we said, most people are not criminals, no matter where they stand in society, or what they do. They live out their lives without changes, tendencies and shifts, which may be quite slight. After all, as we said, most people are not criminals, no matter where they stand in society, or what they do. They live out their lives without major major violations of law (everybody breaks a rule or two now and then). But it takes only a few thousand burglars, out of the millions of people who live in Philadelphia or Los Angeles, to turn the city topsy-turvy. A tiny band of armed robbers is enough to generate the need to spend millions of dollars on police, security guards, locks, burglar alarms, safes, and so on-and even so, n.o.body is safe. One reason it is so hard to craft social devices to "solve" the crime problem is that criminals violations of law (everybody breaks a rule or two now and then). But it takes only a few thousand burglars, out of the millions of people who live in Philadelphia or Los Angeles, to turn the city topsy-turvy. A tiny band of armed robbers is enough to generate the need to spend millions of dollars on police, security guards, locks, burglar alarms, safes, and so on-and even so, n.o.body is safe. One reason it is so hard to craft social devices to "solve" the crime problem is that criminals are are a small minority. Trying to prevent crime, or "cure" crime, is like trying to track down some rare disease. The criminal justice system is far too blunt an instrument. There must be other ways-but what are they? a small minority. Trying to prevent crime, or "cure" crime, is like trying to track down some rare disease. The criminal justice system is far too blunt an instrument. There must be other ways-but what are they?

In the next chapter, we will discuss whether criminal justice actually deters crime. This is, in a way, a raw economic issue: Does the system deliver a big enough electric shock to tell potential criminals, "Hands off"? It is, in part, a matter of benefits and cost. Here we raise (and do not answer) the other question: What has happened to the criminal justice system as a moral teacher and preacher? The system has always been dramaturgic, giving lessons, showing and telling. The colonial system leaned heavily on open trials and public executions. Show trials still exist, but exactly what message do they deliver?

I have the impression-and it is only an impression-that whatever else it does, the criminal justice system does not deliver a strong moral lesson. It delivers, primarily, entertainment. Perhaps it never did did deliver an effective moral lesson. Perhaps the penologists and the judges and others were fooling themselves. Maybe Beaumont and De Tocqueville and the men who ran the prisons deluded themselves about what they were accomplishing. Very likely they did. But whatever was true of the past, it seems most unlikely that the messengers of the news, the TV shows, the movies, the magazine articles, obsessed though they are with crime and punishment, really deliver a sermon worth mentioning to the national congregation-or that, if they do, it is greeted with anything other than a yawn. Of course, there is a message, but one shudders to think what it is. deliver an effective moral lesson. Perhaps the penologists and the judges and others were fooling themselves. Maybe Beaumont and De Tocqueville and the men who ran the prisons deluded themselves about what they were accomplishing. Very likely they did. But whatever was true of the past, it seems most unlikely that the messengers of the news, the TV shows, the movies, the magazine articles, obsessed though they are with crime and punishment, really deliver a sermon worth mentioning to the national congregation-or that, if they do, it is greeted with anything other than a yawn. Of course, there is a message, but one shudders to think what it is.

20.

A NATION BESIEGED.

EARLY IN THE 1950s, THE CRIME PROBLEM EMERGED FROM THE SHADOWS AND took its place at center stage. Crime, of course, had always been a theme in American political and social life. In almost every period, some writers bewailed (usually without much in the way of evidence) the terrible increase in crime. But there is not much doubt about a few central facts in the second half of the century. The "crime problem" has gotten more intense in people's minds, and in their lives. Politically, too, crime has become a central issue.

The postwar crime problem did not burst like a bombsh.e.l.l on the public; it crept up gradually. In the 1950s, there was an uproar over juvenile delinquency. One heard a lot of excited talk about the young and the wild, about adolescents mad for vice and violence. The sense of crisis probably peaked between 1953 and 1956.1 Less is heard about juvenile delinquency these days, but not because delinquency has gone away. On the contrary. Today, the whole idea of "juvenile delinquency" seems somehow soft and flabby; it conjures up joyriding, stealing apples, truancy. "Youth crime" is another matter. People today are petrified of young toughs who swagger about the cities, speaking the language of rage and contempt with their clothes, voices, and bodies. These are not (we think) "delinquents," not "wayward youth"; they are just plain criminals, adult in their violence and menace, if not in their years. Middle-cla.s.s parents are also deathly afraid that their own children will turn sour, and, more especially, that they may fall into the bottomless pit of addiction. Less is heard about juvenile delinquency these days, but not because delinquency has gone away. On the contrary. Today, the whole idea of "juvenile delinquency" seems somehow soft and flabby; it conjures up joyriding, stealing apples, truancy. "Youth crime" is another matter. People today are petrified of young toughs who swagger about the cities, speaking the language of rage and contempt with their clothes, voices, and bodies. These are not (we think) "delinquents," not "wayward youth"; they are just plain criminals, adult in their violence and menace, if not in their years. Middle-cla.s.s parents are also deathly afraid that their own children will turn sour, and, more especially, that they may fall into the bottomless pit of addiction.

After the fifties, fear of crime became more general. Fear of violent, explosive crime has engulfed our huge, decaying urban centers, and gradually, over the years, spread into the suburbs, and even into small towns and villages. The Gallup poll, for what it is worth, records a feeling among people that crime is going up, up, and away. In 1990, 51 percent of respondents said there was "more crime" in their area than "a year ago"; only 17 percent said "less." No less than 84 percent thought there was "more crime in the United States than there was a year ago."2 Earlier polls showed similar opinions. Earlier polls showed similar opinions.

In the sixties, there were cries of anguish all over the political map. A ma.s.sive governmental crime report, issued in the 1960s, warned that violent crime, and the fear it sp.a.w.ned, was disfiguring American society and damaging the social order. Crime had "impoverished" the life of many Americans, especially Americans in big cities. People lived in a fortresslike atmosphere: they "stay behind the locked doors of their homes rather than risk walking in the streets at night."3 Two specific types of violence lay behind these grim words. The first was overtly political-urban riots, especially race riots in the cities; and unrest over the unpopular war in Vietnam. The second was ordinary crime: violence and theft on city streets. Two specific types of violence lay behind these grim words. The first was overtly political-urban riots, especially race riots in the cities; and unrest over the unpopular war in Vietnam. The second was ordinary crime: violence and theft on city streets.

In retrospect, the political fear seems somewhat exaggerated. Since they had no crystal b.a.l.l.s, no one could know that when the Vietnam War ended, the rioting would end with it. Certainly, there was no reason to be optimistic about race violence, or to suppose that the urban barrios and ghettos would simmer down. In 1968, an a.s.sa.s.sin's bullet struck down Martin Luther King, Jr., and the cities exploded. People talked about "long hot summers." Yet riots of the same magnitude did not break out again until the "Rodney King" riots of 1992. Political violence has been (so far) sporadic and limited. Even terrorism has not made much of a dent on the American scene (praise be). Fear of terrorists slows up check-in at airports, but terrorist attacks inside inside this country are exceedingly rare. this country are exceedingly rare.

Of course, all this might change; race relations in the United States, for example, are hardly smooth, and the anger in black communities, together with the backlash in white communities, seems toughly resistant to change. Terrorism might well flare up, with some turn in the wheel of international politics. It certainly affects the texture of society. Security at airports, in public places, courtrooms, government offices, becomes a kind of tax of millions of dollars imposed on the public. But on the whole, political violence is not a major factor in American society.

Street crime is another matter altogether. Some people will always jump at the thought of ghosts and shadows; but in this case, there is something real to be afraid of. The crime rate itself skyrocketed after 1950. Crime and its consequences became a terrible blight on the landscape. There is some dispute about crime statistics, about the significance of a peak here or a trough there. Occasionally in the 1980s, a federal, state, or city government would announce with fanfare a leveling off, or even some slight reduction, but the ordinary citizen was probably not impressed. Crime remained high, streets were dangerous; no statistics could do much about the loathing and the fear.

There is also little doubt that there was and is a great deal to loathe and to fear. The period after the Second World War has been an age of crime; every category of serious crime has risen drastically from a base that was already high.4 In 1990, 2.3 million Americans were victims of "violent crime," according to figures compiled by the Bureau of Justice Statistics. These numbers came from surveys in which people were asked about their own experiences as victims. It did not include victims of the 23,000 homicides, whose mouths had been permanently and violently shut. The total number of crimes, including thefts, was something on the order of 34.8 million. In 1990, 2.3 million Americans were victims of "violent crime," according to figures compiled by the Bureau of Justice Statistics. These numbers came from surveys in which people were asked about their own experiences as victims. It did not include victims of the 23,000 homicides, whose mouths had been permanently and violently shut. The total number of crimes, including thefts, was something on the order of 34.8 million.5 In 1987, according to research done at the National Center for Health Statistics, 4,223 American men between the ages of fifteen and twenty-four died a violent death. This was a rate of 21.9 per 100,000, in that age group. The rate for black men in that same age group was 85.6 per 100,000. These were appalling statistics. The homicide rate for the United States was more than seven times as great as Finland or Canada, more than twenty times as great as Germany, more than forty times as great as j.a.pan. In 1987, according to research done at the National Center for Health Statistics, 4,223 American men between the ages of fifteen and twenty-four died a violent death. This was a rate of 21.9 per 100,000, in that age group. The rate for black men in that same age group was 85.6 per 100,000. These were appalling statistics. The homicide rate for the United States was more than seven times as great as Finland or Canada, more than twenty times as great as Germany, more than forty times as great as j.a.pan.6 The President's Commission had said in its report that crime was ruining the texture of urban life. Some people reacted to danger with a fortress mentality. They avoided dangerous situations, they kept out of parks and other shadowy places at night, and avoided suspicious places except in the blaze of daylight; sometimes they took cabs to avoid walking on questionable streets. They also bought guns by the hundreds of thousands; they locked and bolted and barred their houses and stores; they made burglar alarms big business. In 1977, an obsessed mother and daughter in the Philadelphia area barricaded themselves in their bedroom, a room with three locks on the door, and demanded a full time policeman.7 This was a gross caricature of the "normal" reaction to crime; but fear of violence bent the lives of millions, and distorted their normalcy, day in and day out. The fear has not abated over time. On February 18, 1993, the This was a gross caricature of the "normal" reaction to crime; but fear of violence bent the lives of millions, and distorted their normalcy, day in and day out. The fear has not abated over time. On February 18, 1993, the New York Times New York Times reported that sales of Mace in December, 1992, were ten times higher than one year before; that burglar-alarm companies were flourishing; that self-defense seminars were springing up like weeds; and that thousands of people were buying car phones so they could dial 911 in case of sudden predation. reported that sales of Mace in December, 1992, were ten times higher than one year before; that burglar-alarm companies were flourishing; that self-defense seminars were springing up like weeds; and that thousands of people were buying car phones so they could dial 911 in case of sudden predation.8 Because people were not satisfied with the protection of the state and its law, they privatized protection and created a private regime of law. Private police and the security industry grew dramatically-another reaction to the surge in crime. This trend seems likely to continue. The crime state is also the bodyguard state, the locked-door state, the tight-security state, the state in which there is a major boom in watchmen, guards, security people of every stamp.

Fear of crime also became a political political fact in the postwar period; politics, as always, translated itself into law. We have already noted some of the results. One was an increased fact in the postwar period; politics, as always, translated itself into law. We have already noted some of the results. One was an increased federal federal presence in the criminal justice system (see chapter 12). On the state and local levels there were louder and louder outcries that something had to be done; and politicians responded, at least at some symbolic or rhetorical level. Cities spent more on police and jails. Whether anything much came of all this, in the fragmented and chaotic conditions of American local governance, is an open question. presence in the criminal justice system (see chapter 12). On the state and local levels there were louder and louder outcries that something had to be done; and politicians responded, at least at some symbolic or rhetorical level. Cities spent more on police and jails. Whether anything much came of all this, in the fragmented and chaotic conditions of American local governance, is an open question.9 Throughout the country, newspapers, movies, and TV spread the word about crime and violence-a misleading word, perhaps, but a powerful one. Even people who live in quiet suburban enclaves, or rural backwaters, are aware of what they consider the crime problem. They, too, may feel fearful and besieged: safe where they are perhaps, but conscious of a dangerous world beyond their doorsteps. As Franklin E. Zimring and Gordon Hawkins have pointed out, the level of violent crime is unlikely "in the real world," to go low enough "to abate the public's fear of a.s.sault or criminals." Indeed, South Dakota, "with crime rates about one-tenth that of, say, New York or North Carolina," felt impelled to enact death penalty legislation in the 1970s.10 There are, of course, still many people who plead for a more humane system, and who believe that criminals can be rehabilitated. But the predominant call is for tougher laws, more and longer sentences, more and bigger prisons. In the 1980s, "advances" in humanizing criminal justice, in the style of the Warren Court, became difficult or perhaps impossible. The prison population rose; it doubled and tripled.11 Whenever voters got a chance to express themselves, they almost invariably cast ballots for law and order, toughness, stringency-not for due process or reform. In earlier chapters, we have seen sign after sign of this backlash. Whenever voters got a chance to express themselves, they almost invariably cast ballots for law and order, toughness, stringency-not for due process or reform. In earlier chapters, we have seen sign after sign of this backlash.

The Question of Violence Why is the United States such a violent country? Why is there so much serious crime? Why are there so many violators-men (and a few women) who take other people's property, intrude on their homes, a.s.sault their bodies, and even take their lives? What is it about our society that breeds this epidemic of violent crime?

Is American history, tradition, experience to blame? There is a lot of talk about the legacy of frontier violence. Does violence stem from these primal conditions? This was a new, raw, macho country; traditional authority was weak; conditions favored the violent and the strong. In fact, the question is a complicated one. There is some doubt whether the frontier was violent at all-or if it was, whether this was the same kind of violence as modern violence.

This question is raised by Roger McGrath, in his study of two towns of the old Wild West, Bodie, California, and Aurora, Nevada (see chapter 8). There was a good deal of shooting, fighting, and h.e.l.l-raising in these towns, but it was confined to "men fighting men." Anybody outside the circle of macho fighters was more or less safe.12 It was, in short, patterned violence, restricted violence; this kind of violence sends no chills of fear down the spine of the average person. Most people can buy immunity, just by staying on the sidelines or opting out. It was, in short, patterned violence, restricted violence; this kind of violence sends no chills of fear down the spine of the average person. Most people can buy immunity, just by staying on the sidelines or opting out.

But if this was, in fact, the case, it is no longer true. It is also worth pointing out that there is another historical pattern: domestic violence-crimes of pa.s.sion and hatred, and family brutality. These account for most homicides, even today. In Marvin Wolfgang's cla.s.sic study of violent deaths in Philadelphia, for the period 1948 through 1952, only 12.2 percent of the 550 homicides for which the killer was known were committed against "strangers," and 1.1 percent against "innocent bystanders." The big categories of victims included "close friends" (28.2 percent), members of the family (24.7 percent), and substantial numbers of "acquaintances," "paramours," "s.e.x rivals," and the like.13eh Some thirty years later, the situation had not changed very much. A study of eight cities for the years 1976 through 1978 found that about 20 percent of the homicides were in the family; about 40 percent were cla.s.sified as "acquaintance homicide," with only about 13 percent as "stranger homicide." But since over a quarter were listed as "type unknown," it seems likely that the percentage of stranger homicides had risen modestly. Some thirty years later, the situation had not changed very much. A study of eight cities for the years 1976 through 1978 found that about 20 percent of the homicides were in the family; about 40 percent were cla.s.sified as "acquaintance homicide," with only about 13 percent as "stranger homicide." But since over a quarter were listed as "type unknown," it seems likely that the percentage of stranger homicides had risen modestly.14 In absolute numbers, however, homicide was booming, which translated into a lot more murders in all categories. In absolute numbers, however, homicide was booming, which translated into a lot more murders in all categories.

One striking fact in Wolfgang's study was how few murderers used guns. Only a third of the victims in his study had been shot, and 38.8 percent had been stabbed. (Women who killed showed a preference for the kitchen knife-some 40 percent of them.) Another 21.8 percent of the victims had been beaten to death.15 But in the later study, the gun emerges clearly as the weapon of choice (65 percent); knives were used in only 21 percent of the instances. But in the later study, the gun emerges clearly as the weapon of choice (65 percent); knives were used in only 21 percent of the instances.16 Is it possible that the population has not gotten more violent in the last thirty years, but simply more heavily armed, and therefore more lethal? A gun is more likely to kill than a knife, or a punch in the jaw. Of course, guns are only part of the story. One can ask, for example, Is it possible that the population has not gotten more violent in the last thirty years, but simply more heavily armed, and therefore more lethal? A gun is more likely to kill than a knife, or a punch in the jaw. Of course, guns are only part of the story. One can ask, for example, why why we are so heavily armed. we are so heavily armed.

The raw figures on homicide, appalling and revealing as they are, raise as many questions as they answer. Domestic violence and stranger violence may be related; they may be two sides of the same coin. The blot of violence has spread over more and more of our social s.p.a.ce. People in the late twentieth century have lost a sense of safety, of immunity against sudden, unprovoked attack. They feel themselves surrounded and trapped in a jungle of ruthless, hidden predators. Danger is everywhere, and comes from everywhere. Perhaps the ultimate nightmare is the drive-by shooting-random bullets sprayed from a car, ricocheting off walls and sidewalks, endangering us in our cars, at home, in our yards, putting at risk even children at play.

The rules of the game seem to have changed; indeed, now there were no rules at all, only a black hole, an anarchy in the very heart of the polity. Violence had been a macho sport, and it remained that way; but suddenly the norms had gone haywire; it was like some tremendous boxing match, where the boxers, instead of pounding each other inside the ring, suddenly jump through the ropes and begin mauling and maiming the screaming audience.

I have no solution to offer to the question of origins. Modem violent crime may or may not be the b.a.s.t.a.r.d child of frontier violence, or American machismo, or domestic violence, or the like. Even if there is a connection, the connection does not explain very much. Modern violence is different different from frontier violence, or historic American violence. There have been plenty of outbursts of violence in the past-the New York draft riots of the Civil War period; vigilantism; race riots. Lynch law was an appalling aspect of our history. Brutality runs through our history. The bloodstained past may have something to do with it; yet our past is much less b.l.o.o.d.y than the pasts of other countries, which today are lambs to our wolves. The samurai code, unlike the Wild West, does not seem to have left j.a.panese streets littered with corpses. The French Revolution and the Terror do not seem to make Paris as raw and untamed as New York. Something has to be rotten in the from frontier violence, or historic American violence. There have been plenty of outbursts of violence in the past-the New York draft riots of the Civil War period; vigilantism; race riots. Lynch law was an appalling aspect of our history. Brutality runs through our history. The bloodstained past may have something to do with it; yet our past is much less b.l.o.o.d.y than the pasts of other countries, which today are lambs to our wolves. The samurai code, unlike the Wild West, does not seem to have left j.a.panese streets littered with corpses. The French Revolution and the Terror do not seem to make Paris as raw and untamed as New York. Something has to be rotten in the modern modern state of affairs- some sickness that is peculiarly our own, the child of our period, our customs, our times. state of affairs- some sickness that is peculiarly our own, the child of our period, our customs, our times.

In short, there may may be some continuity between the swaggering gun-fighter, the southern duellist, the lynch mob, the young gang members of the past, and the violent criminals of the present; but on the whole we have to look deeper and further. Violent crime is a product, by and large, of male aggression. But that aggression can take many forms, and seek all sorts of outlets, many of them quite benign. Somehow, macho honor and swagger have generalized; they have worked their way down the social ladder. They take forms that are, at times, violent, vicious, and perverse. A gang member has to be tough, has to be a man, has to be willing to fight, to shoot, to avenge. In neighborhoods without exit or hope, this terrible code mixes with drugs, drug money, the weakness of the family, the decline of traditional authority, the exaltation of individualism and choice, the vulgarity of media messages, the rampant narcissism and consumerism of American society, and the easy, cheap a.r.s.enal of guns, to form a witch's brew of crime, social pathology, and violence. be some continuity between the swaggering gun-fighter, the southern duellist, the lynch mob, the young gang members of the past, and the violent criminals of the present; but on the whole we have to look deeper and further. Violent crime is a product, by and large, of male aggression. But that aggression can take many forms, and seek all sorts of outlets, many of them quite benign. Somehow, macho honor and swagger have generalized; they have worked their way down the social ladder. They take forms that are, at times, violent, vicious, and perverse. A gang member has to be tough, has to be a man, has to be willing to fight, to shoot, to avenge. In neighborhoods without exit or hope, this terrible code mixes with drugs, drug money, the weakness of the family, the decline of traditional authority, the exaltation of individualism and choice, the vulgarity of media messages, the rampant narcissism and consumerism of American society, and the easy, cheap a.r.s.enal of guns, to form a witch's brew of crime, social pathology, and violence.

This book is about criminal justice, not crime; but at many points we have had to deal with theories of criminal behavior, popular or otherwise. Few modem scholars believe in "born criminals" anymore. "Criminal anthropology" is dead as a doornail. Some part of the public probably still thinks "bad blood" is pa.s.sed down from father to son. Some professionals are still looking for a biological key-a crooked chromosome, for example. Most experts, however, search for the answer in personality, family, and social context. A criminal is a "misraised, mistrained person, unsuccessfully socialized."17 Even the social scientists James Q. Wilson and Richard J. Herrnstein, who flirt with body type as one co-cause of crime, put the basic blame on child-rearing practices. They feel that parents are no longer interested in "inculcating moral and religious principles." Nowadays, if parents care about anything at all, it is personality development. The nineteenth-century stressed "impulse control," discipline, in short; and this put a damper on crime. Contemporary society has forgotten about impulse control; the main theme of modern life, on the contrary, is "self-expression." Even the social scientists James Q. Wilson and Richard J. Herrnstein, who flirt with body type as one co-cause of crime, put the basic blame on child-rearing practices. They feel that parents are no longer interested in "inculcating moral and religious principles." Nowadays, if parents care about anything at all, it is personality development. The nineteenth-century stressed "impulse control," discipline, in short; and this put a damper on crime. Contemporary society has forgotten about impulse control; the main theme of modern life, on the contrary, is "self-expression."18 This sounds a bit nostalgic for a family life that perhaps never was-but let that pa.s.s. In the previous chapter, I argued along lines that are not too far from Wilson and Herrnstein's theme. But I would not put the blame entirely on parents and child-rearing. The whole society, including TV and popular music, has turned its back on "inculcating." Certainly, a good deal of crime flows out of indiscipline, anomie, normlessless, imperfect morality, inability to delay gratification. The culture certainly stresses the self, the individual; it does not invite people to submerge themselves in some higher cause or ent.i.ty. It invites them, on the contrary, to be themselves; themselves; it is individualistic with a vengeance. We have referred to the result as "crimes of the self" (see chapter 19). We mentioned the impact of a celebrity culture-a culture that exalts people who succeed young, who succeed fast, and who careen through life in a dizzy aura of money and glamor. Ma.s.s culture, media culture, are success cultures; cultures of narcissism and consumerism, cultures of individualism run riot. None of this is particularly new in American society, but the traits are, I believe, more p.r.o.nounced than in the past. it is individualistic with a vengeance. We have referred to the result as "crimes of the self" (see chapter 19). We mentioned the impact of a celebrity culture-a culture that exalts people who succeed young, who succeed fast, and who careen through life in a dizzy aura of money and glamor. Ma.s.s culture, media culture, are success cultures; cultures of narcissism and consumerism, cultures of individualism run riot. None of this is particularly new in American society, but the traits are, I believe, more p.r.o.nounced than in the past.

Some observers put the blame on soft, permissive parents. But in fact, violent, harsh families may be much more likely to breed criminals than soft, indulgent ones.19 In fact, loving parents may do a better job in our times precisely because they are more in tune with a permissive, indulgent culture. And the culture of individualism, the culture of self, the permissive culture, is not all bad-perhaps it is not even In fact, loving parents may do a better job in our times precisely because they are more in tune with a permissive, indulgent culture. And the culture of individualism, the culture of self, the permissive culture, is not all bad-perhaps it is not even mostly mostly bad. American crime rates may be the side effects of a culture that has accomplished a great deal in making people happy and rich. Or, if this seems too Pollyannish, call it a culture that is at least trying to redress tyrannies of the thoughtless past. bad. American crime rates may be the side effects of a culture that has accomplished a great deal in making people happy and rich. Or, if this seems too Pollyannish, call it a culture that is at least trying to redress tyrannies of the thoughtless past.20 After all, the era of the self has its positive side: more human freedom, less discrimination and intolerance, less racial and ethnic and s.e.xual repression. Most people would not want to go back to the hierarchical, repressive, prudish, intolerant- After all, the era of the self has its positive side: more human freedom, less discrimination and intolerance, less racial and ethnic and s.e.xual repression. Most people would not want to go back to the hierarchical, repressive, prudish, intolerant-and racist, racist, and and s.e.xist-society of a century ago. s.e.xist-society of a century ago.

Moreover, the vast majority of our citizens-cradled in the same general culture, watching the same TV programs, bombarded by the same temptations and advertis.e.m.e.nts-never choose a life of crime. What we are trying to explain is a change in marginal rates of criminality; marginal rates of criminality; that, to be sure, is serious enough, but it has to be kept in perspective. If the number of burglars or rapists doubles over time, this can create a dangerous, alarming situation. As we pointed out in chapter 19, a few thousand burglars can pile up an awful lot of crime; add a few thousand more, and you have a ferocious "crime wave" in a metropolitan area of millions of people. How many potential skyjackers does it take to throw the airline industry into panic? Yet the overwhelming majority of people are neither burglars nor rapists nor skyjackers. that, to be sure, is serious enough, but it has to be kept in perspective. If the number of burglars or rapists doubles over time, this can create a dangerous, alarming situation. As we pointed out in chapter 19, a few thousand burglars can pile up an awful lot of crime; add a few thousand more, and you have a ferocious "crime wave" in a metropolitan area of millions of people. How many potential skyjackers does it take to throw the airline industry into panic? Yet the overwhelming majority of people are neither burglars nor rapists nor skyjackers.

Criminal Justice and Crime If the sources of crime lie deep in the wellsprings of culture, then they do not lie within the criminal justice system itself. The public, furious and bewildered about violent crime, thrashes about, looking for scapegoats; and one easy scapegoat is the criminal justice system. The media reflect this view, or foster it, perhaps. A study of crime reporting in the 1970s, which a.n.a.lyzed crime stories in the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune, found that more than one-third of these stories "indicated that the criminal justice system encourages crime by dealing improperly with criminals" and suffered from the vice of "excessive leniency." A panel of people living in the Midwest agreed. They rated courts and the correctional system poorly (they liked the police); many also complained about laxity in sentencing and parole, and about "legal technicalities": "Society gets no protection at all from the courts. All the marbles are on the criminal's side."21 The criminal justice system, to be sure, deserves a great deal of criticism. Hardly anyone has a good word to say for it. It is corrupt, torpid, inefficient, underfinanced, and often inhumane. The big-city criminal court buildings are tawdry; they are the sewers of the social order, and they stink accordingly. The very air in the corridors smells of cynicism and hopelessness. But this is atmosphere: Does the system actually work? Apparently not to anybody's satisfaction. The system sins in all directions. Sometimes it does does let "criminals" slip through holes in the net. Yet often it can be vicious, discriminatory, and brutal. For the public, the real question is: Does it have an impact on the actual crime rate? The answer is far from clear. Many experts insist that its impact, in reality, is slight. let "criminals" slip through holes in the net. Yet often it can be vicious, discriminatory, and brutal. For the public, the real question is: Does it have an impact on the actual crime rate? The answer is far from clear. Many experts insist that its impact, in reality, is slight.22 How can this be? To the layman, the opposite seems completely obvious: the power, or potential power, of a strong, tough system. n.o.body really wants to rot in jail, n.o.body wants to go to the gas chamber. Stiffen the backbone of the system, make it more certain that criminals pay for their crimes, and pay hard; surely crime will dwindle as a consequence. Deterrence-that is the key. Moreover, a burglar in jail can hardly break into your house. This effect is called "incapacitation." It, too, seems like plain common sense. If the crooks are all behind bars, they cannot rape and loot and pillage. The death penalty, of course, is the ultimate incapacitator.

Never mind, then (so the argument goes), soft-headed worry about causes of crime; forget poverty, unemployment, racism, and slums; forget personality and culture. Use the steel rod of criminal justice to stamp out crime, or to reduce it to an acceptable level. Get rid of sentimentality ; take the rusty sword down from the wall; let deterrence and incapacitation do their job.23 Is anything wrong with the theory of deterrence and incapacitation? Nothing, really-as far as theory goes. But in the streets, station houses, courts, and jails, and in society at large, where theory meets practice, huge gaps appear. To put it bluntly: the criminal justice system cannot deliver a strong enough wallop of deterrence, beyond the way it is now beyond the way it is now, to justify a policy of toughening up. Hans Zeisel's study of New York City in the 1970s makes the point brutally clear: of every 1,000 felonies committed, only 540 are reported to the police; these turn into 65 arrests and 36 convictions; exactly three of these felons are sentenced to prison for a year or more.24 If the system were three times as tough, it might put If the system were three times as tough, it might put nine nine men in jail. If it were four times as tough, the number might be men in jail. If it were four times as tough, the number might be twelve twelve. Even a tremendous tremendous increase in conviction rates, without something more, would hardly make a dent in the problem of crime. increase in conviction rates, without something more, would hardly make a dent in the problem of crime.

Why does the criminal justice system deliver so little punch? There are many reasons. The courts can hardly convict somebody if the police do not catch him. It is not that easy to catch a robber or burglar in a vast, anonymous, complex society. Courts also cannot convict without strong evidence-which they often do not have. Whatever the reasons, not very much can be realistically changed, in the short run at least. The American system of criminal justice did not appear out of nowhere; it is a piece of American society, and it cannot be radically altered in ways that contradict the basic ground rules of society. We tolerate corruption and brutality so long as we are not the victims.