Policing Insecurity: Police Reform, Security, and Human Rights in Latin America

POLICING INSECURITY

POLICING INSECURITY Police Reform, Security, and Human Rights in Latin America

Edited by Niels Uildriks

lexington Books A division of ROWMAN & LIT TLEFIELD PUBLISHERS, INC. Lanham • Boulder • New York • Toronto • Plymouth, UK

LEXINGTON BOOKS A division of Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. A wholly owned subsidiary of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200 Lanham, MD 20706 Estover Road Plymouth PL6 7PY United Kingdom Copyright © 2009 by Lexington Books All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Policing insecurity : police reform, security, and human rights in Latin America / edited by Niels Uildriks. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-7391-3228-9 (cloth : alk. paper) eISBN-13: 978-0-7391-3230-2 1. Police administration—Latin America. 2. Police—Government policy—Latin America. 3. National security—Latin America. 4. Human rights—Europe, Eastern— Congresses. I. Uildriks, Niels A. II. Title. HV8160.5.A3P65 2009 363.2098—dc22 2008047618 Printed in the United States of America

⬁ ™ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Contents

Preface

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1 Police Reform, Security, and Human Rights in Latin America: An Introduction Niels Uildriks 2 Recent Police Reform in Latin America Hugo Frühling 3 On the Long Road to Demilitarization and Professionalization of the Police in Brazil Saima Husain 4 Post-War Violence and Police Reform in Guatemala Marie-Louise Glebbeek 5 International Police Assistance in Jamaica under Escalated Violence and Institutionalized Non-Integrity Niels Uildriks 6 Police Transformation and International Cooperation— The Jamaican Experience Anthony Harriott 7 Police and Judicial Reform in Chile Lucia Dammert 8 Police Reform in Argentina: Public Security versus Human Rights Mark Ungar

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9 Policing Insecurity and Police Reform in Mexico City and Beyond Niels Uildriks

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Bibliography

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Index

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On the Authors

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Preface

in a meeting of experts in Latin American policing that took place in April 2006, in Utrecht, the Netherlands. The meeting was convened to discuss some of the research findings derived in part from the research program “Implementation of Human Rights Standards within the Police in Latin America and the Caribbean.” It was financed by the Dutch Scientific Research Council (NWO) and carried out by the School of Human Rights Research at Utrecht University from 2002 to 2006. The meeting focussed on the relative success of different strategies employed in Brazil, Jamaica, Costa Rica, and Mexico to secure greater police adherence to human rights standards. An essential part of this enterprise was to understand the influence of different institutional and societal environments on the success or failure of related initiatives. To broaden the scope of our endeavor additional experts also discussed police reform experiences in Chile, Argentina, and Guatemala; their contributions have been expanded into separate chapters and included in this volume. The search for strategies that can help improve policing in terms of human rights has brought us inevitably to consider the consequences of increased violence throughout the South American continent during the past decade and the failures of new democracies to offer adequate responses. How to improve police adherence to human rights standards under these circumstances is the central theme running through this volume. Revolving around this theme, most chapters focus on case studies of recent police reform efforts throughout Latin America and the Caribbean, illustrating the latest developments and experiences. Police reforms have been guided by different sources, and this volume places them in a theoretical discourse that explicitly links the issues of reform

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HE ORIGINS OF THIS VOLUME LIE

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with democratic transition, human rights, and security. The case studies provided the basis for the wider discussion in this book about some prerequisites for the success or failure of police reform efforts in Latin America, thus adding to our empirical and theoretical knowledge of policing reform issues. A further issue specifically addressed in this volume is that of state-society trust. Trust is a central concept within the democratization literature and one of considerable importance in Latin America. Profound distrust commonly characterizes not only the relationship between citizens and state institutions, but also social, as well as inter- and intra-state relations. Trust, respectively mistrust, is an important issue throughout this volume and is an important yardstick used to judge the relevance of police and judicial reforms under varying circumstances of ‘post-authoritarian rule.’ This volume adds a clear theoretical dimension to the current literature on policing and reform in which ‘trust’ is a side issue at best. The experiences throughout Latin America vary, but in some respects are strikingly similar. This affords the opportunity to suggest an agenda of relevant future reforms for the region as a whole, drawing and building upon policing reform experiences throughout the continent. This is done by combining themes within the current literature concerning impunity, professionalization, community policing, as well as accountability and training of the police. In the final chapter the current debate on reform is taken one step further by exploring models of institutional reforms which can contribute to both increased security and rights-based policing, but at the same time do so by improving social, as well as inter- and intra-institutional trust. Acknowledgements Many thanks are owed to the Dutch Scientific Research Council (NWO), which has so generously financed the comparative research program as well as the expert meeting concerned. Martha Huggins was instrumental in the designing of the project. Piet van Reenen and Cees Flinterman, as those responsible for the project, are thanked for their contribution and for the role they played within the different country studies. Dick Bennett’s role as part of the research team has been greatly appreciated, as has been the contribution of Hans Werdmölder, whom I also thank for his friendship. Jenny Goldschmidt I thank in particular for ‘oiling the wheels’ and her dogged determination to manage the inevitable tensions the project gave rise to. The finalization of this volume—typically the hardest part when other work obligations take precedence—has been made possible thanks to the willing collaboration both on an institutional and personal level. Towards the end of the project the Netherlands Institute of Human Rights and the Police Academy of the Netherlands offered financial assistance to carry out

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the necessary editing work. In this respect I would specifically like to thank Esther van Weele—who also put together the bibliography—Gwenyth Uildriks, and Carolyn Micklas, who has also indexed this volume. Wil Pansters in particular is appreciated for his reflections on the introductory chapter and for his contribution throughout the project as a cultural anthropologist, sharpening and putting into context a number of the themes elaborated in this volume. Thanks finally go to Patrick Dillon of Lexington Books who believed in the relevance of the issues and themes discussed here, making the effort the contributors put into this volume all worthwhile. Niels Uildriks September 2008

1 Police Reform, Security, and Human Rights in Latin America: An Introduction Niels Uildriks

rights be introduced in a situation of increasing public insecurity? This question is one that reformers, politicians, human rights activists, and academics alike have been struggling with for decades. The question is particularly relevant to Latin American where authoritarian regimes have been replaced by democratic governments, starting in the mid-1980s and gathering strength across the region. But democratization has not brought all the benefits widely anticipated, including reduction of corruption, increased personal security and adherence to human rights and the rule of law. Why not? And what can be done about it?

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AN POLICE ADHERENCE TO HUMAN

Policing and Reform in the Wake of Latin America’s Democratization Since the early 1990s many Latin American countries that were under authoritarian rule have been democratized in one form or other. The legacies of the democracies discussed in this volume vary. Some have a military legacy (Argentina, Brazil, Chile), Mexico emerges from authoritarian political rule, Jamaica has a British colonial history and in Guatemala, democracy followed the 1996 Peace Accords after decades of bloody civil war. The historic heritage of these countries varies, and so do the problems of building police forces capable of providing security, abiding by the rule of law and upholding democratic and human rights standards. In the wake of this process, research has been exploring how police and criminal justice systems could evolve and professionalize in a manner that would enable them to —1—

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offer security and to effectively tackle rising crime while acting in accordance with human rights standards and the principles of rule of law. As the contributions in this book illustrate, the route to integrating these different goals has been an arduous one, littered by failure and uncertainty rather than accompanied by unambiguous successes. Recently, a number of important studies have been published on public security and police reform throughout Latin America (Tulchin and Ruthenburg 2006; Bailey and Dammert 2006; Hinton 2006). Some experiences are clearly more successful than others, and Bailey and Dammert conclude that the record on this front is more complex than pessimism warrants. Nevertheless, what perhaps most characterizes initiatives in Latin America to modernize and democratize policing and criminal justice systems is the difficulty of achieving lasting police and criminal justice reforms, security and an integration of democratic principles and the rule of law on an institutional level. Invariably successes appear rather short-term in nature and it is difficult to pinpoint developments on this front that have emerged successfully in the long-term. Linking Issues As the different contributions of this volume will illustrate, the issues of human rights, police reform, democracy and security are all in one way or another interconnected. In spite of formal democracy having taken hold in Latin America, over the years it has become apparent that its rise has not necessarily been accompanied by a greater belief in or adherence to democratic and rule of law principles by either state actors or civil society. The rise of democracy has also been accompanied by a ‘democratization of violence’ (Kruijt and Koonings 1999). Instead of violence initiated primarily from the state and power-holders of the old authoritarian regimes, it has been replaced by rising ordinary criminal violence. In the face of the level of insecurity and a manifest state failure on this front, public opinion surveys indicate that large sections of the population are prepared to tolerate human rights violations if people believe this increases security. The response to this development throughout Latin America has been a widespread public demand for mano dura (hard policing), involving a demand for ‘hyperpunitive’ criminal justice practices, including a greater use of capital and corporal punishments and more frequent imposition of harsher sentences (Godoy 2006). It has also involved public demands for ‘just deserts’ measures rather than rehabilitative programs, and for a crackdown on crime and petty criminals. But demands for mano dura have also been considered a justification for arbitrary police violence, social cleansing and summary executions on the part of state actors, as well as mob lynchings. In Brazil and Jamaica, shoot-to-kill policies or even

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death squad activities can be directly linked to a lack of political will together with implicit public support of the ‘silent majority’ for such practices, which in turn relate to the lack of alternative means to increase security. Democratic Governance and Civil Society The link between democratic governance and civil society has remained tenuous and has been the subject of evolving thinking within the democratization literature. In a standard-setting study Putman (1993) found a positive relationship between civic engagement and democratic governance. Linking associational life and democracy he concluded that social capital-networks of trust and reciprocity accumulate through face-to-face interactions in voluntary exchanges. These micro-social processes yield positive results in the form of effective governance. Following an in-depth analysis of contemporary civil society in Argentina, Armony (2004) challenged the core of Putman’s argument. Armony concluded that civic participation failed to breed generalized social trust, that is to say confidence in people outside of one’s immediate circle of friends and group members. If such participation occurs in an adverse social and political context characterized by growing inequality, it is likely to result instead in widespread impunity and a gap between formal laws and their implementation. In adverse social and political contexts, participants in social groups may use their social capital to discriminate against others or exacerbate existing political and social inequalities with distinctly undemocratic outcomes. As a result, groups tend to refrain from linking up with one another and with government institutions, viewing them as ‘inherently authoritarian and corrupt.’ Overall, developments in most of Latin America support the validity of Armony’s argument, belying Putman’s earlier and more optimistic conclusions about civil society serving as an inherently democratizing force. In the light of such a sobering perspective, what have been the experiences with different approaches and initiatives to improve democratize, professionalize, or otherwise improve the quality of policing throughout Latin America? What possibilities for improvement can one realistically expect under different socioeconomic and political circumstances? For reformers throughout Latin America this has indeed been a most pressing question, with authorities characteristically demonstrating they have little idea how security can really be improved, both in the short- and long run. At the same time, police and reformers alike are uncertain which institutional controls, programs or specific strategies can ensure that policing is carried out in accordance with democratic and human rights standards and principles of the rule of law. Indeed: policing insecúrity and polícing insecurity.

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Chapter 1

Sources of Reform During the past decade, police and criminal justice systems throughout Latin America have sought reforms to modernize both the police and criminal justice systems. Efforts have been made to reduce police abuse and corruption, increase transparency and efficiency, and tackle crime more effectively. Many reform programs or specific strategies proposed were the result of (strong) public and political pressure to improve police performance on these fronts. The underlying dynamics shaping the content and nature of reforms varies. Some reforms involving explicit long-term programs, legislation and goals have been carefully worked out. Others amount to ‘quick fix’ proposals in response to a societal crisis, involving short-term rather than long-term solutions. The same applies to the dynamics of the reform process in post-authoritarian or post–civil war regime change. Bargains are struck and the overriding goal of organizational reform may be to integrate those from the old regime and old forces into new ones. Sometimes, as in Guatemala, this has resulted in half-baked measures and reforms that actually impair the longterm quality, efficacy and professionalism of the newly formed police force (Glebbeek Chapter 4). Not all initiatives undertaken on these fronts necessarily amount to sincere and serious endeavors to improve matters. To successfully instigate and carry through reforms requires sustained political commitment in the face of a multitude of organizational and political obstacles. Indeed one of the serious issues emerging when studying reform experiences throughout Latin America is whether some of these initiatives should actually be characterized as serious attempts at improvement. Some are clearly undertaken primarily for ‘public consumption’ in response to public and political pressure as ‘proof ’ that some measures have been taken. Drawing upon the author’s own findings concerning the Jamaican reform experience, at the outset of this century the police chief of Jamaica’s constabulary professed dedication and publicized tough policies to rid the force of corrupt police elements. At the same time, however, it was known by insiders that he sent a senior officer every Friday to collect drug money (with the DEA also finding irrefutable proof of his involvement in the international drugs business). The police chief ’s initiatives, in short, related more to a public relations exercise than to a serious and determined effort to reform the police and increase the integrity of the force. The introduction of reforms thus does not necessarily reflect a real desire for change. This should be understood in the light of Latin American reforms being often undertaken in the wake of the social dynamics generated by civil society to a particular security crisis or moral panic, with state institutions

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being pressured to do something quickly. Additionally, in the case of scandals, politicians or police chiefs must appear to be addressing the problem, and often they simply go through the motions of improving matters, with measures and proposed solutions presented as ‘evidence’ that the problem in question is being dealt with and thus about half solved. Latin American and Caribbean (political) culture is renowned for the concern of those in power with their public image, coming across well and being power—rather than solution—oriented. A worsening security situation over the past decade in most of Latin America has reinforced such tendencies, particularly because policing and security tend to be heavily politicized issues. As a result politicians and ‘professionals’ are inclined to look for short-term simplistic measures that can easily be sold to the public, rather than proposing long-term, complex and lasting solutions. International actors have also been a driving force behind Latin American police reforms. U.S. involvement in reform in Latin America has been driven by a mixture of concerns about crime (particularly violence) affecting public faith in democracy and affecting economic growth, with business associations in the region recently identifying crime as the number-one issue negatively affecting trade and investment.1 Against such a background USAID in 2005 allocated some $271 million for initiatives intended to support democracy and strengthen good governance. Most of these governance programs were aimed at justice-sector modernization. A central focus of these programs has been to transform archaic inquisitorial justice systems to oral and adversarial trials. In such a context USAID has also supported overhauls in criminal procedure codes and the creation or strengthening of justice-sector institutions such as independent prosecutors, constitutional courts, judicial counsels and human rights ombudsmen, as well as supporting the work of NGOs to monitor government functions. In some countries in the region, state institutions and police organizations themselves have been the main driving force behind reforms, but reforms may also involve multiple actors, making a strong case that this strengthens the reform process (Ward 2006: 198–99). Police-led reforms to improve security, for example, benefit when they consult citizens or representing organizations to find out the nature of the problems and security concerns to be addressed. The involvement of civil society in reform may also be important in the case of state-driven reforms, particularly to ensure their legitimacy. In Haiti and Guatemala police and judicial reforms have been largely driven by international actors, who have also played a significant role in Jamaica. In Chile, Colombia and Peru reform has been initiated by the government; in the last two countries in the context of severe public insecurity. Civil society has

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played a major role in countries like Argentina, Brazil, and Mexico by exerting pressure to instigate police and judicial reforms, often with a human rights agenda in mind (notably introducing or strengthening external control mechanisms), but over the years increasingly adding a ‘security agenda.’

Reforms in Post-Authoritarian Societies: Mistrust and Corruption Mistrust and corruption are two key issues when considering the relevance and feasibility of police and criminal justice reforms in post-authoritarian Latin America. The two issues are linked and can be understood in a wider context of the relationship between state (actors) and citizenry. Throughout Latin America this relationship has remained largely clientelistic. The democratization process of the past decades has done little to alter this relationship fundamentally into one based on the notions of the rule of law, as is reflected in what Luzani refers to as “Latin America’s generalized irreverence to the rule of law” (2002: 168). Chile’s tradition of respect for legality, although not necessarily democratic, is an interesting exception. Mistrust as a Defining Social Characteristic In most of Latin America, reform takes place in a social and political environment characterized by a lack of public trust in state institutions generally and the police particularly. Post-Pinochet Chile is virtually the only country in Latin America where mistrust of the police is not a defining societal and institutional characteristic. Although one should not overstate the presence of trust in Chile, a majority of its citizens express trust in the police, even though considerably more so by the higher than the lower social strata (Dammert Chapter 7). (Mis)trust is an issue that surfaces center stage in studies on democratization, the rule of law, civil society and social capital alike. Many other countries in Latin America are also marred by pervasive mistrust, public mistrust of its political and judicial system, as well as general social and political mistrust. The consequences are profound. It hampers the general development of society in many areas, politically, socially and economically, and contributes to its fragmentation. But mistrust is also one of the underlying social characteristics that could severely limit the impact of police and judicial reforms, especially inhibiting a gradual evolution towards a system based on the rule of law. One explanation offered within democratization theory for differences in levels of trust within societies is that in polarized societies individuals differ in background and are less likely to share mutual expectations about behavior,

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making it more difficult to bring about self-enforcing agreements. As Knack and Keefer (1997) indicate, individuals and groups have a greater incentive to repudiate policy agreement when social relations are polarized, and when policy coalitions are unstable, trust relations between individuals often break down. At the same time a country’s institutional structure and the past performance of its institutions are equally crucial in shaping the level of trust and civic norms in a society. When state institutions are able to restrain arbitrary behavior of a country’s leadership and its elites, Knack and Keefer (1997: 1279) note, government actions are more credible and likely to inspire trust. Throughout Latin America state institutions have often remained highly unconvincing in this respect. Public trust in state institutions such as police, judiciary, national congress and the presidency, started to decline during the late 1990s of the past century with little sign of recovery in recent years (Latin American Barómitro 2003). While ineffective institutions are one of the causes of mistrust, its prevalence equally impairs the quality of democratic institutions. As Putnam’s study Making Democracy Work (1993) found and Armony’s statistical analysis of the data of twenty-eight countries confirmed: the degree of social trust affects the effectiveness of democratic institutions (A. Armony 2004). Conversely, its absence negatively affects the functioning of state institutions such as the police. In an important study Fukuyama (1995) concluded that the higher the level of trust, the better a society functions in a wide range of areas. A number of studies all suggest that higher levels of trust between people are associated with greater cooperation. In this respect trust is particularly crucial in large organizations, where members only interact infrequently. Improved performance of large institutions such as state bureaucracies is therefore dependent on the level of trust as it enables functionaries to cooperate better with each other and with private citizens. Trust is a crucial issue when considering police reform in Latin America. In the wake of Latin America’s transition towards democracy, an important criterion to judge the relevance of different reforms is their ability to generate societal trust in institutions as well as intra- and interinstitutional trust. One of the generic lessons emerging from the different experiences throughout Latin America is that for reforms and measures to significantly improve the quality of policing in the long-term, they must help to re-establish trust in the police, and convince a sceptical if not antagonistic public that the police do in fact have something meaningful to offer. Somehow, the police must overcome the public’s profound suspicion that they are in essence incapable of providing any relevant service to society, notably in the domain of public security. Without increased public confidence in the policing system—both in relation to the system’s effectiveness in the areas of public order and crime, and also the

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system’s integrity—any hope of improving police legitimacy, police-public relations and security is largely illusionary. In Chapter 6 Harriott in a sense turns this argument on its head. Rather than seeking the rebuilding of trust as a strategic objective he argues that the goal should be to promote greater transparency in order to reduce the need for trust. But greater transparency in itself does not diminish the importance of trust. For many reforms (be they legal or institutional) to be potentially successful, changing not only formal but also informal social realities, presupposes trust. The widespread lack of trust throughout Latin American in a sense creates a catch-22 situation, on a societal as well as an institutional level. It will be hard to mobilize sufficient support for effective and lasting reforms in the face of deeply rooted mistrust and suspicion about the underlying motives or sincerity and integrity of the reformers involved. (Such suspicions are likely to be also fuelled by the fact that those working within the system are more often than not in it for their own private gain, rather than to provide a public service and increase security.) In order to be successfully implemented reforms require a basic level of trust at an institutional level. They will nearly always face open opposition from one direction or other. Reformers face additional problems if they do not know who within their own organization is likely to undermine the implementation of reforms (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming). Corruption as Object of and Impediment to Reform Corruption is another factor contributing to the citizens’ mistrust, undermining confidence in public institutions, reducing interpersonal trust, regime legitimacy and civic involvement (Caiden 2001; Doig and Theobald 2000; Pharr 2002; Seligson 2002). In most of the continent, corruption is endemic, not just within state institutions but equally within wider society, constituting an integral part of ‘how things are done.’ Not only the police but most sectors of public life in Latin America in general are notorious for being corrupt. Characteristically in most of Latin America institutionalized corruption and non-integrity within the police is not only isolated within their organization, but is also part of social attitudes of the general population and the level of corruption in the wider political, criminal justice and societal environment. Such a state of affairs can be linked to a range of Latin American cultural characteristics. Nef has pointed to particularism (of allegiance within the inner circle), formalism (double standards), role expectation of dispensing favors, corporatism, authoritarianism and even centralism (2001: 159–74). Latin America’s generalized irreverence for the law as a major factor fueling political corruption is a point made specifically by Luzani (2002). He associ-

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ates this with a cultural acceptance that bribery is a way of life, with many people believing that bribery makes public administration work more smoothly. Culture and corruption are clearly linked, but the direction of this connection is in some dispute. Some authors view the attitudes pertaining to a ‘culture of corruption’ as the outcome of years of entrenched political corruption (for an overview see Morris 2003). Others think specific cultural characteristics provide the setting and thus are the cause that allows corruption to flourish. Corruption is generally portrayed as an ethical issue emerging from the moral weakness of society or the persistence of traditional values. Overcoming corruption is one objective that many reforms, implicitly or explicitly, seek to achieve, and with good reason. Pervasive corruption and internalization of the value of rule of law are incompatible and corruption coincides with a modus operandi whereby decisions whether or not to prosecute are often highly arbitrary, politicized and/or the subject of bribery. Unless accompanied by reforms that are indeed capable of increasing institutional integrity, in countries with high levels of corruption most initiatives and reforms to modernize, professionalize or democratize the police have but a limited chance of success. Irrespectively, most (usually high-profile) ‘anti-corruption drives’ to reduce endemic corruption tend to be frustratingly ineffective on the long-term, not only within the different criminal justice institutions but in society as a whole. The results of reforms to reduce the opportunities for such corruption, such as intra-systemic (strengthening of judicial controls) and internal controls, or reforms aimed at greater transparency tend to be ambiguous at best. Experiences throughout Latin America have shown how difficult it is to achieve lasting success here. Internal control mechanisms may become corrupted, as may be the judiciary who are supposed to ensure that criminal proceedings are brought about in accordance with the rule of law. In contrast to most of Latin America, corruption has not been a defining characteristic of social and institutional life in Chile. There is low tolerance for corruption and, illustratively, Pinochet only lost his credibility among his followers after he was found to have transferred large amounts of money to a private bank account in Switzerland. In view of such social attitudes one can understand why the Carabineros, Chile’s uniform police, suffer from little corruption in spite of low salary levels. Low social tolerance of corruption makes institutional corruption less likely (Caiden 1988). Ingrained corruption generally makes state institutions difficult to reform. In societies where corruption constitutes an integral part of ‘how things are done,’ even setting up completely new police forces or departments or introducing high selection criteria and educational standards, integrity testing, and considerable training of officers may all prove of little avail. In Mexico, for

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instance, the notoriously violent Federal Judicial Police was abolished in 2001 and replaced by the Federal Investigation Agency (AFI), which made all of the above changes. It proved of little avail; by the end of 2005 an estimated onethird of all of the agency’s officers themselves were under criminal investigation. As experiences in different countries illustrate, corruption and arbitrariness characterize internal police institutional controls, and endemic corruption undermines police and judicial reforms and institutional controls (Frühling Chapter 2). In short, expectations on the long-term impact of reforms should be modest in a societal and institutional environment with high levels of corruption. Reforms and initiatives to improve the quality of policing, for example through selection, training, or internal control mechanisms, are more likely to succeed in societies and institutions which are largely corruption free. Consequently institutionalized corruption impairs the potential success of certain initiatives and reforms. The relevance of interagency collaboration, for example, is in part contingent upon both the integrity and the professionalism of the agencies involved. In Bogotá and Lima experiences with integration of community policing as part of a wider effort that involved other state agencies to deal with many of the social problems appear to have been largely positive both in terms of increasing security and of reducing police human-rights violations (Frühling Chapter 2). But in a country like Mexico, which is marred by institutionalized corruption in combination with inefficiency and general unprofessionalism, increasing interagency collaboration does not appear to be a realistic recipe for improvement (Uildriks Chapter 9).

Reforms: Understanding Institutional and Social Realities A fundamental weakness of many initiatives to improve the quality of policing is that they tend to be carried out on the basis of an inadequate analysis of the problems needing to be addressed, a state of affairs partly related to the lack of political and professional expertise available throughout Latin America. To know which reforms are needed, and to be able to ascertain the likely impact of specific initiatives, requires an in-depth understanding of the functioning of the criminal justice system and the specific problems needing to be addressed. In Mexico’s Unrule of Law (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming) it is concluded that the legal reforms introduced in 2008 that allow only statements and confessions made in front a judge as legally relevant evidence would probably reduce torture in so far as it is confession driven. However, in Mexico torture is often also information driven, that is to say it is used to induce suspects to give information, for example, information on other suspects. Such torture will not

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be affected by the type of changes in the rules of evidence and legal reforms proposed and will leave its use under such circumstances unabated. Another important issue is how different measures and reforms within a specific sociocultural context can be expected to have a (long-term) impact on the quality of policing. Among seventeen lessons drawn from the experiences of police reform throughout the world, Bayley (2001) concludes that what is required from the outset is not just an articulated understanding of the connections between the objectives and actions proposed but also of their feasibility. In practice, however, few reforms in Latin America are initiated on the basis of any really convincing analysis of the problem to be addressed, the obstacles to be overcome and the solutions proposed. A particular weakness of reforms and initiatives initiated by foreign donors is the lack of long-term perspective and sustainability. Characteristic for such police training or community-policing programs, for instance, is that they tend to be short-term in nature, usually involving a one- or two-year period. A crucial underlying issue concerning reforms in general is that throughout Latin America informal realities tend to be more seminal of what really happens than formal structures. The absence of a rule of law culture and the presence of hidden informal networks and decision-making structures generally outweigh the importance of formal realities. This contributes to a sense of arbitrariness and unpredictability within institutions and society as a whole, making rational planning and reform difficult to carry through. Patronage systems permeate institutional relations and create dependence of the rankand-file on senior officers and a system of favoritism instead of institutionalized rights. This also has consequences for the chance for success of many reforms, particularly making it difficult for rule of law and democratic principles to take hold. Rather than changing informal realities, as reformers hope reforms will do, on the whole informal realities governing police and criminal justice procedures may well prevent many of them from having much influence on actual police practices. At the very least, the complex and nontransparent social and institutional modus operandi make the success of many reforms difficult to predict under the best of circumstances. Initiatives that improve the quality of policing may face large numbers of institutional obstacles, such as the lack of managerial competence and vision regarding the police’s role in society. Personal and self-serving considerations among the higher police ranks commonly prevail, usually overriding professional motivation and pride. As Mark Ungar’s contribution illustrates (Chapter 8), such a state of affairs is reflected in the way promotions are heavily influenced by informal connections. On the whole criminal justice systems in Latin America tend to be marred by a fundamentally opportunistic mentality, with the primary interest of its functionaries commonly

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being to benefit personally as much as possible, a characteristic often complemented by the absence of a connection between individual police performance and rewards.

What Kind of Reforms? Improving the quality of policing—whether in terms of efficiency, effectiveness in fighting crime and improving security, integrity or operating under the rule of law—may not only require reforming the police but also the wider criminal justice system. Many Latin American countries have non-transparent inquisitorial systems—systems that rely primarily on the (police) criminal investigations to produce legally relevant evidence—instead of (testimonial) evidence introduced in court as part of an accusatorial system. Inquisitorial systems may contribute to the use of torture as a means to secure confessions, especially if prosecutors in charge of criminal investigations operate in close conjunction with police investigators without exercising a critical and independent function and uncritically accept the evidence emerging from police interrogations. For Lucia Dammert (Chapter 7) the key to tackling the issue of police abuse in Chile is reforming the military justice system that deals with officers facing allegations of (criminal) abuse. The relevance of specific initiatives, strategies and reforms to improve the quality of policing vary in scope and nature and depend partially on the country-specific circumstances. Legal reforms could, for example, make confessions legally inadmissible as evidence, thereby functioning as one means of reducing police torture. Wider criminal justice reforms may aim to increase transparency within the criminal justice system, for example by making it more accusatorial. Legal reforms may change the status of confessions and other police evidence, but also place police investigations and standards of evidence under greater public and institutional scrutiny. The powers and control of prosecutors (vis-à-vis the police) or that of judges (vis-à-vis prosecutors) may be extended. Police organizations may be restructured, training extended, changed or improved, and special vetting procedures introduced. Introducing different policing styles is potentially a relevant type of reform; in several countries there has been a shift from militarized to more communitypolicing styles. Piecemeal or Grand-design? The important question here is what kinds of reforms are effective under what circumstances, and what general lessons can be drawn from the different ex-

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periences throughout Latin America? A more comprehensive matter is whether for reform and initiatives to be relevant they can be implemented piecemeal or partially or should instead involve more ‘grand design’ types of reform. For example, are endeavors to improve the quality of training relevant in their own right, or only when accompanied by changed reward (promotion) systems as argued by Bayley (2001)? Perhaps the answer depends on such fundamentals as those the goal-specific training initiatives seek to achieve, what the possibilities are here, the extent to which police forces are fragmented, politicized, underfunded,and so forth. Grand-design organizational reforms are probably needed most, and might have the greatest chance of success in a post-war situation as that of Guatemala in 1996, when the country had to start from scratch building up a new police force. It did not do this, and in fact a model was chosen that largely upheld the old semi-military organizational structure, incorporating many of the corrupt officers from the old force, both in quality and quantity retaining substandard training of its new personnel. As Glebbeek concludes in Chapter 3, the reforms were half-baked, too little too late, leading to a police force that was able neither to ensure security nor incorporate and live by human rights standards and the rule of law. On the other hand, designing and implementing grand-design reforms is easier said than done, not in the least in the face of predictable internal police and political opposition from various groups. Perhaps then, under most circumstances one should be content with a piecemeal approach, introducing gradual judicial reforms and changes, if only because the alternative is even more likely that very little will be achieved. It is an issue that will be further elaborated in Chapter 9. Top-down or Bottom-up? Organizational police reforms are characteristically of a top-down nature, that is to say, police management introduces a plan that aims to influence and change the behavior of the rank and file. This being the case, it is not surprising that Bayley concludes that ‘sustained and committed leadership’ is crucial for the introduction of successful reforms (2001: 20). However, commitment, leadership and good general quality of police management is characteristically in short supply and frequently accompanied by serious problems of non-integrity, raising the issue of the attainability of any fundamental improvement in most of Latin American police forces. One important facet of policing in Latin America is that the rights of the rank and file tend to be violated on a massive scale within their own institutions: ordinary officers tend to be subject to long and arbitrary working hours,

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the whims and arbitrariness of their seniors, including verbal and physical abuse, and may well be expected to perform all kinds of illegal activities for them. Initiatives to improve the rights of the rank and file vis-à-vis senior police amount to a type of bottom-up strategy that, depending on specific local and national circumstances, could be facilitated by either introducing an ombudsman system or through unionizing policing. Within police forces marred by corruption and institutionalized non-integrity on the highest levels, improving basic police rights is undoubtedly crucial for the development of more democratic and human rights–based policing. Initiatives to increase the rights of the rank and file are intrinsically important, but also because ultimately human rights values can only be expected to be internalized by police if they are treated likewise. Another type of ‘bottom-up’ reform, to be discussed in Chapter 9, would be the introduction of a more ‘personalized’ policing model, involving a highly decentralized policing system that allows police and public to get to know each other on an individual level. This system goes one step further than refocusing policing in Mendoza, Argentina, where teams of police focused on block-byblock crime prevention, as discussed by Mark Ungar in Chapter 8. It is a type of reform that can alter working practices because of the different role officers would play on a day-to-day basis. As a reform it could contribute to reducing the (corrupting) influence of senior police rather than depending on them for its success. Under the right conditions, it could also improve the quality of policing, both in terms of increasing (feelings of) safety and reducing police abuse. Integrating Security- and Human Rights–based Policing Reforms and initiatives to ‘improve the quality of policing’ can specifically aim to increase the level of ‘democratic policing,’ as discussed by Hugo Frühling in Chapter 2, but also to professionalize the police by improving policing methods used to enhance crime control, safety and security. Increasingly, those setting the reform agenda—academics and practitioners alike—have come to emphasize the importance of integrating such different goals, or at least to try to achieve these goals simultaneously. Such thinking has come in the wake of traditional wisdom that considers democratic and human rights–based policing conflicting if not incompatible with the ambition of improving safety and crime control. This view, in a Latin American context, appears to be connected to people’s experiences with different regimes and forms of policing. Authoritarian regimes and repressive, human rights–violating police forces inspired fear, and it was precisely through promoting that fear that police were apparently able to keep crime and security better under control than the often weak democratic governments succeeding them. With the gradual re-

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placement of military regimes by democratic governance and less repressive, human rights–violating forms of policing, the crime, violence and insecurity in many countries in Latin America increased substantially. In 2004, a UNDP report, “Democracy in Latin American: Towards a Citizens’ Democracy,” found that slow economic growth and profound inequalities, combined with ineffective legal systems and social services, trigger popular unrest and undermine confidence in electoral democracy. Fifty-five percent of Latin Americans surveyed said they would support an ‘authoritarian regime’ above ‘democratic government’ if authoritarian rule could resolve their economic problems. Other public surveys point to increased insecurity worries, and large segments of the population in Latin America profess a willingness to accept human rights violations, at least to some extent, if this is believed to improve security. Rising crime and increased feelings of insecurity throughout Latin America since the mid-nineties have resulted in greater demands for mano dura, with the police thus being confronted with seemingly conflicting pressures to provide both security and adherence to human rights standards: for those clamoring for mano dura, policing oriented towards maintaining human rights standards and playing by the rules is tantamount to being “soft” on crime and security. Insuring the maintenance of human rights or security as the primary orientation of policing as such need not, however, be conflicting. Living in security is a fundamental human right, which the police should be in the business of providing. One supposed conflict between the police offering security and acting in accordance with human rights standards presupposes that ‘effective’ policing capable of providing security requires tough and even human rights–violating measures (torture or summary executions in their most extreme form) and is one of the assumptions underlying the increased demand for mano dura in most of Latin America. Such demands have contributed to and legitimized both strongly repressive criminal policies and the continuation of police abuses throughout Latin America in the face of increasing worries about public security. Indeed, mano dura as a broad philosophy has considerable selling power and emotional appeal and is likely to be the first political response in the face of any apparent security crisis. Not always, however. In Argentina, Mark Ungar argues in chapter 8, the public’s perception that tough police practices have in fact not helped improve public security and have facilitated the introduction of reforms and changes towards more problem-oriented, consensus-based and human rights friendly policing styles. It is clear that tough policing methods in general are hardly a guarantee of increased security. In democratic societies—societies that, unlike authoritarian

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regimes, are not orientated towards enforcing security and tranquillity on the basis of instilling fear and exacting collaboration by means of brute and unchecked force—the police can only be expected to provide security in cooperation with the public and with their consent. For this they require legitimacy, with people considering them by and large capable of providing a meaningful public service. Only under such circumstances can the public be expected to cooperate with the police and to assist them by providing information, evidence or testimony, or even such basic information as giving their own names and addresses truthfully without fearing that information will be misused. A key characteristic of policing in democratic societies is that the police largely rely upon the public’s consent and cooperation to be able to fulfill their policing functions. Public information and assistance then affords the police a basis to act, be it in a service-rendering, preventive or repressive capacity. In the absence of such voluntary, non-repressive forms of police-public interaction they are unable to provide security on the basis of policing methods that are compatible with democratic principles. A study of new policing strategies introduced in the South Bronx in 1994 refuted the idea, widely accepted at the time, that only Mayor Rudy Giuliani’s type of repressive policy of ‘zero tolerance’ could have resulted in a dramatic drop in crime in New York (Davis et al. 2005). Over a five-year period the study showed large reductions in crime while practicing respectful policing in two precincts where personnel were both supervised and trained on location. Introducing community policing is indeed one of the central strategies that in principle offer the possibility of both increasing security and reducing police abuse at the same time. It is an issue that is addressed in many of the different contributions in this book. As Harriott discusses in chapter 6, early evidence of recently introduced community policing strategies in one neighbourhood in Kingston, Jamaica, also suggests that human rights friendly policing styles in high crime areas can simultaneously benefit security in the area. From Hope to Despair and From Despair to Hope All too often police reforms and initiatives to improve the quality of policing are the result of opportunistic and political considerations or simply lack a thorough analysis of how desired changes may be achieved. They are often accompanied by a lack of political and institutional will, combined with effective opposition from stakeholders, to neutralise reforms that oppose vested interests. In the long term, reforms and specific initiatives—whether intended primarily to increase police adherence to human rights and the rule of law or to increase security—are clearly much more likely to fail than to succeed. The

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crucial question then becomes whether sustainable improvements are possible in Latin American societies under the prevailing varying social and institutional circumstances. The answer appears to be a tentative yes. The contributions in this book illustrate both the possibilities and difficulties of instigating successful reforms in Latin America. The success of some community policing experiments in varying circumstances indicate there is no reason for fatalism. At the same time it is obvious that certain conditions will have to be met—or rather created—for reforms and initiatives to have a realistic chance of being successful. Inter-agency collaboration, for example, as a broad encompassing strategy, becomes less relevant when there is deeprooted institutional non-integrity and corruption, intransigent institutional rivalry, and self-serving considerations, as so often is the case. A theme running throughout the book is that the success of any reform or initiative is always in doubt and conditional, depending not only on an adequate contextual analysis of the problem to be addressed, but also on the real existence of political will to successfully carry them through.

Content of the Book In Chapter 2 Hugo Frühling amplifies the context set out in this chapter by giving an overview of the background of police reforms throughout Latin America. Contemplating the different experiences throughout the continent, he discusses the relevance of varying reform strategies such as police training, community policing, demilitarization of the police, internal accountability mechanisms, and initiatives to improve the quality of police management. There have been some successful reforms, especially in terms of community policing. But overall, he concludes, the possibilities for change are highly variable throughout the regions. Rio de Janeiro is infamous for its police abuses, especially the summary executions of street children. Nevertheless Saima Husain’s Chapter 3 illustrates that the city has seen significant developments also in terms of the demilitarization and professionalization of the police. She describes the recent examples of community models of policing introduced in two Rio de Janeiro neighborhoods, as well as three of the ninety-one model police stations that were introduced in the state of Rio de Janeiro since 2000. She argues that both strategies have considerable potential not only to demilitarize and professionalize the police, but also to increase police compliance to human rights. Nevertheless, like Hugo Frühling, she found their potential to be limited and success dependent upon institutional and societal factors, notably the level of crime and violence.

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In Chapter 4 Marie-Louise Glebbeek discusses the history of policing and reform in Guatemala since the Peace Accords of 1996. Her conclusions are sombre, with its police (PNC) of 2007 unable to offer minimum standards of safety, and the impact of the reform in terms of the professionalization and democratization of the force have been limited at best. She argues that the failure of the PNC can be traced back to its foundation, with little effort having been made to introduce institutional changes in terms of organization structure, doctrine, vision, policy, culture and attitude. In Chapter 5 Niels Uildriks discusses the assistance offered on the part of the United States and England, the latter in recent years being characterized primarily by seconding British police within the Jamaican Constabulary Force. Such aid has been given amid spiralling violence to a level bringing Jamaica to the brink of being a ‘failed state.’ Further complicating matters is that U.S. and UK assistance is provided to a force heavily involved in (organized) crime and corruption itself. Can foreign assistance under such circumstances realistically be expected to contribute to the quality of policing in terms of the modernization of policing, and perhaps most important in terms of the force recovering its lost legitimacy and integrity? Whereas any foreign assistance provided can be described as ‘manoeuvring in a minefield’ it is argued that the initiatives undertaken offer some hope of improvement here, particularly in terms of the introduction of more sophisticated policing methods, which in turn offer hope of institutionalizing methods that could undermine the rationale and necessity for some of the more brutal policing methods for which Jamaican police are notorious. In Chapter 6 Anthony Harriott offers a kind of donor-recipient perspective on foreign police assistance to Jamaica. Being the leading expert of Jamaica on police reform issues, and especially acclaimed for his prize-winning book Police and Crime Control in Jamaica; Problems of Reforming Ex-Colonial Constabularies (2000) Harriott offers an in-depth insight of the different issues involved in foreign assistance in the country, exploring what such assistance should involve and what it should not. A central notion he emphasizes is that of ‘partnership policing,’ that is to say foreign assistance should not be one-sided, imposed by the donor. In order to be relevant it should be respectful, making use of local knowledge and offering greater scope for self-directed solutions. While looking specifically at the meaning of the extraordinary inclusion of British police within the Jamaican force itself, Harriott emphasizes the importance of designing powerful incentives for change both within the community and the police itself, and in spite of the currently inconclusive outcome, he argues that the current cooperation efforts have renewed the promise of both a more rights-oriented and effective Jamaican police service.

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In Chapter 7 Lucia Dammert traces the history of the Chilean police and its good reputation, at the same time questioning whether the latter is completely warranted. Chile’s lack of institutional corruption clearly stands out as positive. Under the Pinochet dictatorship police forces became subordinated to the army, with security policies being directly linked to the ‘National Security Doctrine.’ While acknowledging that considerable headway has been made in the democratization of Chile’s police, she argues that what is currently required most of all from an equality of arms perspective is reform of the military justice system that is invoked in cases of allegations of police abuse or criminal activity. In Chapter 8 Mark Ungar has an innovative look at the issue of police reform in Latin America. He discusses the factors on a national level, the combination of rampant crime, abuse and corruption prompting police reform in 1996 and 2004, but he also specifically studies police reform at a regional level, in Mendoza and La Rioja. Argentina’s federal state structure has facilitated police reform on a regional level that a centralized state structure probably would not have allowed. Following increased public scrutiny of mano dura approaches failing to show results in dealing with large rises in violent crime in the second half of the 1990s and early years of the twenty-first century, political and citizen pressure led to a shift from repression-based to more problemoriented policing, involving a re-focusing of policing by organizing block-byblock crime prevention. Nevertheless, on a regional level the obstacles to reform remain formidable, not only in terms of internal police resistance, but also in poor quality management and training, as well as inadequate organizational support that prevents officers from being successful and earning citizens’ trust. How the dynamic between the opportunities and existing impediments eventually bears out, Ungar concludes, will offer valuable lessons for the region particularly on the issue of traditional repressive versus problemoriented policing. In Chapter 9 Niels Uildriks returns to some of the main themes outlined in this introduction, looking particularly at the Mexican experiences as illustration, but also drawing upon experiences elsewhere in Latin America. He returns to the issues of ‘political policing’ and the debate on the nature of reforms (grand design versus small steps reforms) that will be required in order to really improve the quality of policing in different respects. Focusing particularly on ‘lessons to be learned’ it is argued that in order to effectively achieve security, as well as the democratization and human rights— and rule of law—character of policing, reforms are particularly relevant when they are able to increase trust: trust towards and within state institutions but also society in general. In Mexico City this requires a ‘personification of policing,’ allowing personal contacts to develop on a microlevel, as

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well as the development of institutional mechanisms that increase institutional integrity and an internalization of rule of law values. Characteristically much is expected from training to improve the quality of policing, assumptions that are critically looked into in the light of the realities of such training in Mexico City. The chapter concludes with an exploration of some of the main issues drawn from the Mexican experiences in this domain which are relevant to Latin America as a whole.

Note 1. Testimony by Franco to the House of International Relations Committee Western Hemisphere Subcommittee (http://usinfo.state.gov/dhr/Archive/2005/Apr/ 21-965427.html).

2 Recent Police Reform in Latin America Hugo Frühling

EGINNING IN THE 1990S, ALONG WITH the re-establishment of democracy in many Latin American countries, there have been numerous efforts at police reform throughout the continent to improve the level of professionalization, curb police abuses and develop closer police-community relations. One of the first of these efforts was the signing of the peace agreements between the governments of El Salvador and Guatemala and the armed opposition groups in those countries in 1991 and 1996 that stipulated the creation of new civil forces to replace police forces controlled by the military. A new civil police force also replaced the discredited National Guard of Panama after the U.S. invasion in 1989. These reforms were supported by numerous governments and international organizations and paralleled the institutional changes made to the criminal justice system, where an adversarial system and oral trials were introduced (Stanley 1999). These police reform efforts have been the subject of evaluations in the recent past (Neild 2002). In some countries police reform has also been accompanied by the design of integral public security policies which seek to involve the entire public sector. Attempts at police reform occurred throughout the region. Important factors affecting this process are the impact of the democratization process which began in those years accompanied by the profound loss of prestige suffered by a large number of the existing police forces. Twenty years after these changes began, many questions remain about what has been achieved. While some police forces were able to substantially improve their image, reinserting themselves fully into the democratic system, as occurred in Chile, Colombia and Nicaragua, in other countries the results have been modest (Frühling 2007).

B

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As an example, results of the Latinobarómetro survey, an international poll conducted in eighteen Latin American countries, reveal that in 2003, 62 percent of those surveyed expressed confidence in the Catholic Church, but only 29 percent had confidence in the police and 20 percent said they trusted the judicial system. Figures from the 2004 Latinobarómetro survey indicate that 65 percent of survey respondents in Mexico, 58 percent in Paraguay and 57 percent in Argentina believe that in their country it is possible to bribe a member of the police. The lowest percentages of support for this statement are found in Chile (22 percent) and in El Salvador (20 percent). Recent qualitative studies confirm that police reform is urgently needed in most of the region, but that the reform process requires a sustained, long-term effort. Niels Uildriks with Nelia Tello (forthcoming) tell us that Mexican police forces are characterized by a lack of social acceptance and social isolation. Moreover, they add that internal corruption is prevalent among personnel of diverse hierarchies. The creation of a new civilian police force in Guatemala after the end of civil war has not been a success, according to Marie-Louise Glebbeek, and many other observers agree with that judgment (Glebbeek 2003: 316). In the case of Brazil, some authors point out that the various state police forces are quite different in terms of their institutional capabilities and adherence to the law, but their reform continues to be very high on the public agenda (Beato et al. 2005). A 2007 study by Saima Husain reveals that despite efforts over more than a decade, the democratic police reform in Río de Janeiro continues to be more of an aspiration than a reality. An evaluation of four community policing projects in different Latin American countries shows some signs for hope, but it also reveals that the adoption of a community policing strategy by itself does not produce sufficient institutional changes within the police (Frühling 2004). Dissatisfaction with existing police forces has led to contradictory efforts aimed at reforming them. These efforts have included creating new civilian forces or reforming existing ones through programs that emphasize better training, using internal purges as an attempt to diminish corruption, and strengthening internal control mechanisms, combined with a focus on improving relations between the police and public. These reforms have produced advances of a democratic nature in the police, when comparing the current situation to that which existed before. However, that progress has been notably unequal among countries and has not met the expectations of the reforms. In this article we will take advantage of the existence of recent studies of the police in Latin America and analyze the direction of the changes undertaken, discern the conditions that influence the success or failure of the reforms that have been implemented, and examine how those conditions have affected attempts at concrete change within the police.

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The first section of this chapter gives an overview of the police system in Latin America, describing police organization in the region, the influence of military doctrine in their organization, and their diversity in terms of training and professional standing. We will then analyze the origins and purposes of recent changes in security policies and policing in Latin America. The third section analyzes the type of reforms that have been implemented in recent years. We will then turn to an examination of reform efforts in a few countries, assessing their impact.

The Police in Latin America Authoritarian and military regimes dominated Latin America from the late 1960s to the mid-1980s, with the exception of Costa Rica, Venezuela, and partially Colombia, where elections took place in the midst of violence and internal strife. During these years military influence over the police increased to a great degree. Police forces of the various Brazilian states were all brought under the control of the military, until the transition to democracy that began in 1985 (Husain 2007: 53). The general director of the Carabineros in Chile formed part of the ruling military junta, and the institution strongly supported the military regime (Dammert Chapter 7). In some of the Central American states the military also performed police functions, as was the case in Nicaragua until the early 1980s and in Panama until the U.S. invasion in 1989. Not surprisingly, in 1993 David Bayley characterized many Latin American police forces as military in nature, noting the absence of a strict separation between the police and the armed forces. On the basis of this proposition, he set forth five hypotheses concerning police-community relations. First, a significant percentage of crime reported to the police involved allegations of serious crimes. Unlike what was typical in most developed democracies, the public resorted to the police only when absolutely necessary. Second, the police responded much more to the needs of government than to the demands of citizens. Third, Latin American police used force more frequently than the police of developed democracies in comparable situations. Fourth, there was less supervision of the police than in democratic countries. Fifth, there was likely to be a low degree of support for the police, and as a result of internal functioning and structure, subordinate personnel obeyed orders but lacked autonomy to respond creatively to problems they faced (Bayley 1993). Bayley’s analysis stressed critical aspects that seem to be common among Latin American police forces and that should be reformed in any attempt to advance towards democratic policing.

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Behind these shared characteristics of policing in the region, there exist very different institutional and social realities. As Uildriks with Tello (forthcoming) point out, an analysis of the impact of different reforms being attempted in Latin America requires an understanding of the daily realities in which police officers work. This in turn demands an understanding of similarities and differences among police realities in the region. To determine where these differences are present and how they might shape the results of reform policies, we will focus on the model of police organization, the relationship that exists among police forces in some countries, the educational level of their personnel, and the level of support they receive from the population. The Model of Police Organization The organization and actions of the police are regulated in Latin American countries by police legislation. In Peru, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, and El Salvador, norms governing the organization of the police are included in the country’s constitution. The existence of some sort of civil police force is recognized in every Latin American country and, as we will see, in recent years efforts have been undertaken in various countries to demilitarize the police. However, in Colombia and Chile the police are part of the Ministry of Defense, in each Brazilian state there is a preventive police which is military in character, in Peru the police maintain organizational forms and hierarchic levels equivalent to the military, and the majority of the state police in Venezuela are educated under military doctrine and command (Malarino 2003). As mentioned, the police greatly contributed to the suppression of civil rights and liberties under the numerous military regimes that existed in the region during the last decades of the twentieth century. This strongly influenced the police in the region, regardless of whether they were military in character. Even in Central America, where new civil police forces were created, many officers drawn into the new police institutions came from the previous police forces. This indicates that progress toward demilitarization and democratic forms of policing most likely risked strong ideological resistance from police officers. Occasionally, these same members of the police express critical views of programs aimed at improving police relations with the community and which imply greater accountability of the police with respect to the communities in which they work (Husain 2007: 140–147). Despite the growing separation between military and civil functions in recent years in many countries, there have been diverse and significant exceptions. In Colombia under President Uribe, the police have been assuming an

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ever greater role in participating in strategic plans for national security, with regard to the fight against drug trafficking and guerrilla groups. The role of the police is subordinate to the counterinsurgency strategy, as part of an effort to consolidate the state’s power over important areas of the national territory (Llorente 2003). On the other hand, the perception of police ineffectiveness in confronting the extreme levels of violence reached in certain countries has led to increasing involvement by military personnel in police functions. In Mexico a large number of military police fulfill civil police functions (Malarino 2003: 586). In Guatemala the military carries out patrols together with the police. Likewise, in Brazil the military has intervened in Rio de Janeiro in order to confront the waves of violence that affect that city. These military interventions may be a response to the weakness of the police forces. In practice, however, they do not contribute to the separation between the police and the armed forces, and they weaken all efforts to modernize and reform the police. Relations Among Different Police Forces Some Latin American countries have a single police force that reports to the central government, as is the case of Peru, Guatemala, and El Salvador, among others. Others have multiple, centralized police systems as those existing in Chile, where there are two national police forces dependent on the executive branch. Finally, there are systems with variable degrees of fragmentation. Countries with federal systems such as Brazil and Argentina have at least one police force in every state or province, while Mexico and Venezuela are characterized by having a system with high levels of fragmentation. The Mexican police, for example, are organized under federal control, state control (thirtyone states and the Federal District) and municipal control (there are 2,430 municipalities). By constitutional mandate each one of these levels is responsible for public security (López Portillo 2003: 398). All are permitted to maintain police forces. Preventive police functions are carried out by police at the federal, state and municipal level, while the investigation of crimes is only carried out by the judicial police at the federal and state levels. Countries with more than one police force face serious coordination problems, often produced by the lack of specific norms that establish cooperative responsibilities among the different forces. It is also the result of their profound heterogeneity, which limits their interest in sharing information. In the case of Mexico, in 1994 the National Public Security System was created, led by the federal Secretary of Public Security. The National Academy of Public Security, which evaluates and certifies the police, is part of the secretariat. Information regarding the results of this process is quite scarce and

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it is therefore not possible to determine what positive effect it has had on the quality of police performance (López Portillo 2003: 402). An official diagnosis of the Mexican police reveals the existence of differing educational requirements for members of the different police forces and indicates that the professionalization of the police is a recent policy. Of the fifty-eight institutions with a police function, only seventeen have established minimum educational standards to join the force (López Portillo 2003: 404). In addition, around 55 percent of Mexican police officers have not completed primary school. Salaries paid to the judicial police are widely known to be greater than those received by the preventive police (López Portillo 2003: 395). In 2001, a Public Security Council was created in Venezuela in an effort to regulate the coordination between law enforcement entities, as well as their parallel competencies and mutual cooperation. However, the critical security situation in that country and the coordination problems faced by the different police services led to the creation of a National Commission for Police Reform with the objective of developing an approach to that issue (National Commission for Police Reform 2007). In federal countries such as Brazil, Argentina, and Mexico, the quality of policing tends to be heterogeneous at best. Claudio Beato and others (2005) have stated that the level of education is very different among diverse police forces pertaining to different states in Brazil. The number of hours they have to study in the police academy also is considerably different. While military police officers in Bahia take 6,105 course hours, military police officers in Rio Grande do Norte have to take only 3,000 hours in order to complete their studies (Beato et al. 2005). Disparities in terms of their salaries are quite considerable. São Paulo, which is the state with the highest cost of living in the country, pays a relatively low salary to its police officers (Beato et al. 2005). These differences influence the levels of police professionalization and make it difficult for efforts at police reform within a specific country to have a uniform effect. On the other hand, the difficulties in establishing a coherent national policy that creates incentives for police reform and innovation and that fosters cooperation among different police forces weakens the national impact of police reform attempts. Public Perceptions of the Police Public opinion reveals widespread mistrust of police throughout the region, with the exception of isolated cases, such as Chile’s two police forces and the National Police of Colombia. This public distrust also extends to the court system: the previously mentioned Latinobarómetro survey that covered eighteen Latin American countries showed that, in 2003, 62 percent of the popula-

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tion surveyed expressed trust in the Catholic Church, 29 percent in the police, and 20 percent in the judiciary. However, a 2003 victimization survey conducted in Chile shows that the Carabineros, the militarized police of Chile, enjoys relatively high levels of public support. Of all the institutions mentioned in the victimization survey, the Carabineros ranks third among those most highly respected by the respondents for their efforts in the area of citizen security, following the Servicio Nacional de Menores (SENAME, National Children’s Service) and the Servicio Nacional de la Mujer (SERNAM, National Women’s Service). The smaller Investigative Police follows the Carabineros in this ranking. It is true that these figures are only mildly positive; however, they are far better than the evaluations of other political institutions (Frühling 2006). This primarily positive evaluation of Carabineros seems to indicate that this police force enjoys a high degree of institutional legitimacy. The only indicator that we have in this respect comes from the national victimization survey, which makes reference to the percentage of crimes reported by the victims. The overwhelming majority of such reports are made to Carabineros, since this institution has a presence throughout the entire country. A comparison of data from a victimization survey carried out in the city of Buenos Aires in 2003 reveals a greater percentage of crime reports in the case of Chile.1 In Chile, 47.5 percent of the victims had reported a residential robbery, while in Buenos Aires 38.4 percent of the victims reported this crime. Robbery with violence or intimidation was reported by 46.1 percent of the victims in Chile, while in Buenos Aires only 33.9 percent of the victims reported this crime. In Chile, 26.5 percent of the victims who suffered theft of personal items reported the crime compared to 18.1 percent of such victims in Buenos Aires. Attempted bribery by a civil servant was reported by 10.8 percent of the victims of this crime in Chile, while no crimes of this nature were reported to the police in Buenos Aires. Lacking Confidence Confidence or trust in the police also depends on the perception that the police act with honesty. A survey of the perception of Carabineros also conducted during 2003 asks very forthrightly whether in the past twelve months the respondent has been the victim of, or witness to, a carabinero using his or her position for personal gain. A negative response was given by 88 percent of the respondents: they had been neither victim of nor witness to such an act. Only 6 percent had witnessed a carabinero acting for personal gain, and 2 percent had been the victim of such an abuse. This perception of comparatively low levels of police corruption, in relation to other Latin American countries,

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also is reflected in the national victimization survey, in which only 1.2 percent of the respondents maintain that a civil servant requested or demanded payment of a bribe from themselves or some member of their household. In 21.7 percent of these cases, the civil servant in question was a carabinero. In a study carried out in Buenos Aires during 2003, 5.7 percent of the respondents said that they had been asked for bribes in the past twelve months, in 72.2 percent of these cases by a police officer. In the case of this victimization survey conducted in Chile, respondents were asked to say whether they agreed or disagreed with certain statements describing characteristics of police officers in the country. The statements that received more positive responses were: carabineros are responsive (78.9 percent); carabineros are disciplined (73.9 percent); carabineros are efficient (66.2 percent); carabineros have good manners (65.1 percent); and carabineros treat people well (63.2 percent). Affirmation is less forthcoming in response to the statement, “carabineros are corrupt” (39.3 percent of the respondents agree and 38.8 percent disagree). At the same time, the response to the questions whether carabineros are corrupt or whether they treat people well, reveals significant differences in the opinions of respondents from the highest income bracket and the lowest income bracket. Public perceptions of the police in Colombia have also improved dramatically in recent years. By the end of 2002, 57 percent of Colombians expressed confidence in the police, and in contrast, only 21 percent expressed confidence in the police ten years prior to that (Llorente 2005: 211). The cases of Carabineros and of the police in Colombia are two exceptions to the widespread mistrust of police in the region, and are relevant because they show that appropriate institutional reforms can have a positive impact on public perceptions. Internal Structure and Police Training The internal organization of the uniformed police tends to follow similar patterns in Latin America. Commissioned officers typically attend special officers’ schools where they are trained to supervise and command the lower ranked and patrol officers of the force. Relationships between them follow the military mold and are very hierarchical. Even more important, training for basic agents who patrol the streets is very brief (usually between four and nine months) and very long for commissioned officers (four years in Chile and five years in Peru). Low-ranking police officers who entered the force during the 1980s and 1990s had usually not completed their secondary education and therefore lacked the skills necessary to participate in innovative police programs. They usually resented their much lower status as compared to the

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high-ranking officers. Most studies show that lower-ranking officers are not supportive of community policing or similar programs that have potential for improving law enforcement officers’ adherence to the law. Patrol officers tend to have a clear image of who criminal suspects usually are (Ramos and Musumeci 2005). Therefore, they do not believe that improving relations with the community might be effective in reducing crime. Surveys of police officers clearly reveal the opposition to these programs among less-educated police officers (Husain 2007: 140–42). A survey conducted among police in São Paulo shows that 34.4 percent of commissioned officers indicated that community policing was more effective in fighting crime, while only 17.8 percent of the lower-ranking police officers held the same opinion (Kahn 2004: 214). Moreover, poor training affects the professional capability of the police to respond to the public. Problems that plague police training range from the lack of objective criteria for selecting recruits or determining who is accepted to specialized courses, to inadequate efforts to recruit females and members of indigenous groups, to poorly motivated teachers, as well as teaching methodologies that do not utilize practical exercises or role playing (Minugua 2003: 5–12). Sometimes on-the-job training is not provided consistently to all members of the force, and on occasion, police officers do not feel that such training is particularly useful (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming). Police surveys consistently show that working conditions are poor for lowranking police, adding an additional element that explains their lack of motivation and enthusiasm for structural change. Uildriks and Tello mention that members of the preventive police of Mexico City and the judicial police view exhaustion caused by long workdays as one of the top three problems that prevent them from carrying out their work. Nearly 41 percent of all judicial police mention this factor, while 24 percent of preventive police interviewed by the authors agree. Noncommissioned officers frequently work in another capacity in addition to being a policeman, most as private security guards. This capacity means that these officers do not get adequate rest or time to be with their families. In summary, police forces in the region differ in terms of society’s perceptions of their legitimacy and in terms of their internal organization. Some police in certain countries have been able to improve their professional capabilities and responsiveness to social demands for security and protection. However, they do have in common a predominantly rigid and theoretical style of training. Many of the characteristics outlined here, such as the excessive military influence on policing models, the distance between police officials and their subordinates, and poor working conditions, constitute significant obstacles to a democratic modernization process. In the following section we will examine in greater detail the origin of police-reform processes and their

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relationship with more integral security policies being promoted by governments in the region.

Police Reform and Policies Designed to Reduce Crime The Beginning of the Reforms The installation of new democratic administrations in Latin America during the 1980s and 1990s allowed for the expression of criticism of police abuses, which had greatly increased during the military regimes they had replaced. For example, an analysis of the use of violence on the part of the civil police, according to what is revealed by the crime reports made to the Internal Affairs Unit of the Civil Police of Bahia (Brazil), indicates that 40 percent of the total reports were for extremely grave abuses. The vast majority of these reports were filed away or led to simple recommendations of administrative sanction, without being passed on to the judiciary (Lemos-Nelson 2001). This indicates not only the seriousness of the infractions allegedly committed by the police, but also the lack of effectiveness of the internal administrative control of police conduct. In illustration, the military police of Rio de Janeiro state were involved in a series of publicly visible crimes in the 1990s. On July 23, 1993, a group of people, probably policemen, killed eight street children after shooting at a group of children sleeping on a downtown street. In August of the same year, a heavily armed group of military policemen attacked the Vigário Geral slum to seek revenge for the death of four colleagues, killing twenty people. The impetus for change in the police has also been influenced by the increase in crime experienced in almost all Latin American countries in recent years. Not only are there high homicide rates, in particular in Colombia, Guatemala, El Salvador and Venezuela, but there are high victimization rates for other crimes. For example, 30.3 percent de those surveyed in the national victimization survey conducted in Chile in 2003 reported having been the victim of at least one of the following crimes: vehicle theft, robbery or theft of items from a vehicle, robbery with force, mugging, robbery with violence, theft, assault, financial crime, or corruption. Even countries such as Costa Rica have experienced a significant increase in crime rates and the perception of insecurity is on the rise. Its homicide rate grew from 4.9 to 7.0 per 100,000 inhabitants between 1993 and 2003 (Eijkman 2006: 414). The rise in crime has led to an increase in mistrust of the police and decreasing levels of satisfaction with the governmental capacity to confront the crime problem. This is evident

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in several countries which have in common that public security is a major problem facing the government. Finally, general initiatives to improve public sector management have affected police reform in several countries. The size of the public apparatus has decreased, state-owned enterprises have been privatized, certain functions have been decentralized to local or regional governments, and there has been a search for accountability mechanisms with respect to the efficacy and efficiency of public entities (Bresser-Pereira 1999). In the face of these institutional changes, the serious deficiencies affecting public security and policing measures have become obvious (Mesquita Neto and Affonso 1998). The initial state reforms in Latin America have led to the delegation of functions toward regional and local governments in order to reduce costs, bring public services closer to citizens and reduce the size of the agencies which provide said services (Bresser Peirera 1999: 2–9). Decentralization and state reform have had an effect on the police. Decentralization leads to the rise of local and regional authorities with an interest in developing programs in the area of public security that sometimes compete with those developed by the central government. In Colombia, mayors were given authority in matters of security in 1991. Municipal guard forces were created in cities in Brazil, Ecuador, and Guatemala, as a response to the failures of the police who were dependent on the state or central governments. All of this motivated the police to pay greater attention to local authorities and local realities, which occasionally provide financing for the police. Police Reforms and Public Policy Measures for police reform have been accompanied in some countries by more comprehensive public policy efforts designed to reduce crime and violence. These formulas seek to provide a consistent and specialized direction to the work of various ministries which, in line with their specific plans, carry out programs aimed at reducing violence and crime (Manzano 2006). These plans seek to design integral policies that include modernization of the police as well as other prevention and control policies. Many of them seek to improve the databases upon which the design and evaluation of policies is based, and give a civil imprint to the measures that are adopted in these matters. Argentina In Argentina in 2000, the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights and the Ministry of the Interior together launched the National Crime Prevention Plan.

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After two and a half years of implementation in the city of Buenos Aires, the plan was redesigned and relocated under the national Ministry of Justice, Security and Human Rights (Fohrig et al. 2006). Given the country’s federal structure that gives authority in security matters to the provinces, the plan may only be implemented through agreements between the federal government and the provinces. In 2003 the plan was carried out in the city of Buenos Aires and in the municipalities of Avellaneda and Morón in Buenos Aires province.2 Part of the loss of impetus for the initiative was due to Argentina’s economic collapse in 2001, which complicated efforts to develop the plan in other areas. Once the political situation stabilized and economic growth began again under the Kirchner presidency, the plan was complemented by a National Security Plan which proposed substantial changes in policy and in the criminal justice system (Ungar Chapter 8). The application of the plan was slowed by the replacement of the Minister of Justice Security and Human Rights Gustavo Beliz, who had promoted its design. To sum up, the establishment of an efficient public policy in the area of public security faced a number of obstacles that ultimately weakened it. Among other factors was the deterioration of economic conditions in the country, which occurred in 2001, bringing political instability with it. Once the economic situation began to improve, the disagreements between President Kirchner and his Minister of Justice, Security and Human Rights with respect to dealing with the frequent demonstrations by the unemployed resulted in a weakening of political support for the Plan. Chile In Chile, in 2003 the Citizen Security Division of the Ministry of the Interior brought together civil experts and representatives of the most diverse public agencies to work together on a National Policy for Citizen Security. The policy was created and published in 2004 (Government of Chile 2004). It outlined the following institutional challenges to be resolved through the measures proposed: development of a social prevention policy including objectives such as reducing domestic violence and abuse, reducing school violence and providing early intervention for at-risk children and youth (Government of Chile 2004: 31–37). The second challenge refers to the improvement of control measures that could result in increasing the proportion of crimes solved by the police, the modernization of the country’s two police forces, and installation of an adolescent criminal justice system through legislative reform (Government of Chile 2004: 41–50). Two additional challenges refer to: the creation of a Ministry or Subsecretary of Public Security with responsibility for defining general citizen security policy in coordination with

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the various governmental agencies that carry out functions in this area; these agencies emphasize the development of information and information technologies whose objective is to improve the diagnostics and analysis of the crime situation (Government of Chile 2004: 50–57). In 2006 the Chilean government announced a Public Security Strategy for the years 2006 through 2010. This strategy developed the objectives that had been included in the prior document. It set crime reduction goals for the period and included a group of commitments regarding prevention, control and punishment programs, rehabilitation of offenders, and assistance for victims. The strategy is currently being implemented but it is too soon to know whether it has had any effects. Peru Efforts to put a national crime reduction policy into practice have also spread to other countries, such as Peru. In the case of Peru, in January 2003 the National Congress approved the creation of the National Citizen Security System. This new agency was to direct policies in this area. The National Commission for Citizen Security would be presided over by the Minister of the Interior and comprised of representatives from the ministries of education, health, justice, economics and finance, as well as the Supreme Court, the National Attorney General’s Office, the Public Defender’s office and regional and local government representatives. Although regional, provincial and district committees were created, they have not functioned adequately and the Commission has not provided sufficient impetus to build and execute an integral citizen security policy (Villarán and Pardo 2005: 173–83). Limited Success The above examples illustrate a growing awareness in Latin America of the necessity of addressing crime through integral policies that involve prevention as well as control measures. The past decade has seen an increase in the number of initiatives designed to decentralize the execution of measures that form part of a plan through the participation of local governments. The limited success of these efforts appears to be due to diverse causes. Even when there is a democratic public security policy in place, it is not always sustainable given the shifting pressures that sometimes compel governments to abandon thoughtful public security policies in favor of more expedient, tough-on-crime policies that attract political support. Furthermore, internal capabilities and expertise of the agency in charge of implementing the reform process is an important determinant for its success. When the reform process is generated by the government, the ability to shape the

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process becomes essential. In most of Latin America, civilian expertise to design policies, ensure implementation and evaluate their results is in short supply. In the case of Central America, most ministries of government in charge of police affairs lack civilian experts who can analyze crime data and pinpoint specific failures in police performance.

Types of Police Reform and the Challenges they Face Following are some of the most significant types of reforms that have been introduced in the last two decades in different Latin American countries aimed at achieving a more professional and democratic policing model. Demilitarization of the Police As mentioned, during the 1990s Latin America saw a number of initiatives for police reform that aimed to create civil police that were autonomous from the armed forces. Such is the case of the new police forces in El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, and Panama. Police reform in El Salvador managed to integrate combatants from both sides of the country’s civil war. The institutional design established a general inspectorate responsible for investigating legal infractions committed by the police that reported to the vice-minister of public security and was independent from the chief of police. In addition, the police academy, which recruits and trains police, was separated from the police in order to ensure academic independence and preservation of the civilian nature of the police. In 2001, as crime continued to increase (particularly gang-related crime), the law regulating the national police was changed, and the inspector general was placed under the supervision of the chief of police. More recently, a police officer was named director of the police academy, which demonstrates a loss of independence with regard to the police force. The reforms of Guatemala, Honduras, and Panama are less successful than that of El Salvador in terms of achieving significant levels of democratic policing. The police in these three Central American countries confront serious problems in the way police academies function, control over police corruption and abuse falls short, and adequate equipment is lacking. On average, these police forces have a scant ten-year history, and they have a long way to go in terms of the institutional development required to confront the recent waves of violent crime. In Guatemala there is strong evidence that the police have been penetrated by organized crime. In early 2007 members of the police participated in the killing of four visiting Salvadoran members of congress allegedly because they were ordered to do so by organized crime.3

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With the objective of separating the professional careers of policemen from that of members of the armed forces, the law regulating the National Police of the Dominican Republic was modified to prevent active members of the armed forces from joining law enforcement. In 1999, new legislation that approved both the provisional system of public security of the province of Mendoza, Argentina, and the law of the police in the province of Mendoza came in force to respond to accusations of severe police abuse. The new legislation subordinated the police to the Ministry of Justice and Security, which assumed the directorship of the institution. This law decentralized the structure of the police, establishing district police and a General Security Inspection responsible for investigating complaints against the police within the ministry and is headed by civilian representatives of the main political parties. The University Institute of Public Security also was created to oversee the training of police and placed under the leadership of civilian instructors, not police officers. In February 2005, a new program was implemented to bring the police closer to the community, with the goal of improving the public image of the police. When the 1999 law was implemented, it produced strong resistance from the Mendoza police, who felt they had not been included in its discussion. Most experts believe the human rights situation has improved in recent years, given the stronger civilian control imposed on the police, but criticize the limited advancement in terms of police effectiveness in dealing with crime (Ungar 2004). The above reforms implemented to transform the police into a civilian force have certainly led to an improvement with respect to the previous situation in which many of these police forces were subordinate to the armed forces or emulated their values and organization. However, as in the cases of Buenos Aires and Mendoza, this has been partially reversed in order to deal with rising crime; in others they have met with resistance from within the force. In still others the police force has remained a weak institution that has not been modernized. The Strengthening of Internal Accountability Mechanisms Various countries have attempted to strengthen accountability mechanisms. In several cases internal disciplinary systems have been reformed because of the key role they play in preventing and controlling abuse. These disciplinary systems face a number of common problems. They tend to focus on breaches of internal discipline, rather than on incidents of police abuse. Sometimes they suspend decisions regarding crimes committed by policemen until after a judicial decision is reached, which may take a long time. Internal discipline

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is preserved through punitive rather than preventive measures. This can be counterproductive in terms of ensuring voluntary adherence to the law by police officers. Many procedures are held in secret and offer little access to complainants. My personal observations in various countries of the region show that Offices of Professional Responsibility in charge of investigating these cases are usually placed only in the capital cities and are not accessible to the public at large.4 All of these characteristics generally make it difficult for external observers to find out whether incidents of police misconduct are in fact decreasing and whether the efficiency of the system is improving. Some Experiences with Internal Accountability Systems The creation of new police forces in El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala meant that new internal systems were established. In El Salvador, police reform created an internal system under the authority of the police director general, comprised of a disciplinary investigative unit, a disciplinary tribunal, and a control unit. These bodies reviewed compliance with internal regulations, quality of police operational procedures, and use of resources. The entire system was supervised by an external Inspector’s Office, which reported, as mentioned before, to the Vice-Minister of Public Security. By the end of the 1990s the system was overwhelmed by the number of cases and the slow rate with which they were dealt, creating a serious backlog. In 1999 an additional Internal Affairs Unit was created to work with the prosecutor’s office investigating possible criminal acts committed by police. In August 2000, a change to the police organic law was approved which specified the disciplinary powers and duties of supervisors and local chiefs of police, and emphasized the disciplinary powers and duties of the local police chiefs. In mid-2000, in response to media revelations about police involvement in organized crime, 1,568 policemen were fired in accordance with extraordinary powers vested in police authorities to remove police officers based on suspicion alone. This type of purge is not uncommon in Latin America. In recent years purges of this kind have taken place in the police force of the province of Buenos Aires, Brazil, in Colombia and in the preventive police of Mexico’s Federal District. While these purges help the police to eliminate many problem officers, they show that the reforms of the internal disciplinary system have been unable thus far to produce the kind of behavioral changes among officers that are necessary for a sustained democratic police force. Wholescale purges are perceived by police officers as a violation of their constitutional guarantees and fail in institutionalizing normal and fair disciplinary proceedings (Uildriks chapter 9).

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Improving Police Management Efforts to professionalize the police have also become common. The military police in Minas Gerais moved from a traditional accountability mechanism for its police officers shifting from a system of compliance with regulations and orders toward a system of results-oriented policing. For that matter, in 2005 the police introduced new indicators in three areas: tactical capability, technical capability, and quality of police service to the public (Vieira de Souza and Protásio dos Reis 2005). In 1999 in Rio de Janeiro the state governor, Anthony Garotinho, created a model police station program in order to increase the productivity and the quality of service to the public by the state’s civil police. The program included changes in the physical structure of the station, the division and assignment of work among employees, officers’ behavior, and the supervision of individual officers (Husain 2007: 148-78). Evaluations of the program have indicated that it has great potential for improving the quality of policing and compliance with human rights. However, the program has not been implemented in its entirety within the civil police of Rio de Janeiro, partly because of informal internal opposition on the part of officers who are poorly paid and not motivated to change. This internal opposition was strengthened by a widely held police belief that initiatives of this kind may change once a new state governor comes into office (Husain 2007: 171–178). Interesting initiatives to modernize police institutions also come from Chile, where public support for the police is high compared to regional standards (Dammert Chapter 7). In 2004, the Investigative Police of Chile launched a strategic plan of institutional development called Plan Minerva, which aims to improve all administrative processes, control corruption and improve operational effectiveness. Under this plan, the (Policía de Investigaciones de Chile 2006), reported that a police force notorious for its corruption and complicity with human rights abuses has curbed misconduct and increased its prestige. Governmental support has been the key to implementating reforms in Chile. The political coalition that came to power in the presidential elections of 1990 has won all presidential elections since then, ensuring an increasing budget for the Investigative Police, as well as political backing for its modernization initiatives. (Policía de Investigaciones de Chile 2006: 22). Strengthening Police-Community Relations In order to improve police-community relations, various countries have undertaken community policing programs. Between 2001 and 2002 the

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Inter-American Development Bank evaluated four such projects in terms of their impact on the police institutions involved. The authors of the evaluations focused on four projects that were selected because of their duration and the amount of data available on them, which permitted effective evaluation of their impact. The four projects included the São Paulo (Brazil) Community Policing Program, the Villa Nueva (Guatemala) Community Policing Program, the Bogotá (Colombia) Community Policing Program, and the Belo Horizonte (Brazil) Community Policing Program. Though the amount of information available in the different cases varied, they all had been subject to independent monitoring. There was information on the process as experienced within the police organization during implementation, and information had been gathered on the features of the community organizations that established relations with the police. The longest-running project that was evaluated was the one implemented in Sao Paulo (Früling 2004). Along with many other reform initiatives, these reforms were aimed directly at increasing the democratic nature of policing. Democratic policing is here understood as involving a police, that as an institution it is independent from the armed forces, and is responsive to the needs of the public, accountable to the law, provides policing services legally and respectfully, and operates in accordance with the values of democratic governance, including accountability and transparency (Bruce and Neild 2005: 15–17). However, these reforms face a number of obstacles and difficulties that impede their full implementation. One major impediment lies in the values of the society within which the police operate. The prevalence of corruption or organized crime would present a great challenge for an organization responsible for enforcing the law. The feasibility of reforms aimed at achieving better quality and more democratic policing also depends on the stability and consistency of public policies in the security field. Internal perceptions within the police of political instability, or that changes may be reversed in a subsequent administration, fuel opposition to reforms. Finally, given the complexities of the police as an organization, each policy change often must be complemented by other reforms in order to be sustainable. This requires that internal leadership of the police be committed to reform and capable of managing institutional change.

A Case Study of Comprehensive Police Reform: Colombia Nature and the Circumstances of the Colombian Reform Process One of the most significant examples of police reform is that of the National Police of Colombia. Its significance is due not only because of how discredited

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the police were when the reform process was initiated, but also because of the social and political context in which it took place. For decades, the country has been coping with serious problems related to drug trafficking and domestic guerrilla warfare. In February 1993 in Colombia it was revealed that serious crimes had been committed inside a police station in Bogotá. This was not an isolated case. The growing participation of the National Police in the fight against drug trafficking and its support for the army in the counterinsurgency had stimulated the growing militarization of the police and a sharp increase in corruption (Llorente 2005: 199–202). Because of the police force’s low level of credibility, a reform process was initiated in an effort to change the perception of an institution considered corrupt and inefficient by the public. The first change had occurred in 1991, when by constitutional amendment, the responsibility for citizen security was decentralized, giving city mayors and regional authorities a more decisive role. In 1993 then Minister of Defense Rafael Pardo Rueda created two commissions whose goal was to diagnosis the problems and develop proposals that could transform the police. The work of these two commissions became Law 62 in 1993. The changes that began to be implemented that year involved first the introduction of greater civilian control over the police. The office of the National Police Commissioner was created, and would be headed by a civilian from outside the institution who would be charged with controlling the disciplinary system, as well as receiving and managing complaints against the police. A new police career structure was also introduced, which sought to merge the medium and lower ranks of the force in order to create a more horizontal structure that would allow people at the bottom of the command pyramid to ascend through the ranks more quickly (Llorente 2005: 204–7). The latter drew a certain degree of opposition among police officials, as did the role assigned to the National Police Commissioner, again meeting resistance from within the police force. As a result the commissioner never acquired the significance expected of the office. The decentralization process has had positive effects in the large cities, subordinating police activities to the respective mayors. This has contributed to improving the relationship between the police and municipal authorities, improving their relationship with citizens and improving the public image of the police. Changes in the police career ladder transformed the profile of the police, reducing the distance between supervisors and personnel of lower rank. Internal resistance to the establishment of an external control over police conduct does not imply, however, that the situation returned to what it had been before. At the end of 1994 Major General Rosso José Serrano became

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the new head of the police and began to foster internal changes. He was able to obtain authority from Congress to remove those officials suspected of having been involved in corruption. Around 8,500 police officers were fired. Unlike other purges, these were seen as credible and did not affect only lower-ranking personnel. Serrano launched a program that was called “the cultural transformation of the police” which was expressed first in strategic planning processes designed to define priorities and evaluate results. At the same time, police officials were trained in management techniques and resource administration to modernize police management. However, the fact that the prestige of the police, as measured by opinion polls, rose significantly can be attributed especially to the police’s successful capture of the leaders of the Cali drug cartel.

The Relationship of the Police and City Government Different experiences suggest that when properly designed policies are supported by a government that enjoys popular support and has adequate human and material resources important changes can indeed be made. Bogotá, the capital city of Colombia, is a case in point. Between 1995 and 2003, the city’s government led a consistent effort aimed at reducing levels of crime and insecurity. The mayor of Bogotá created an office that planned, implemented and evaluated projects aimed at reducing crime and violence. Within that office, statistical information on crime and police actions was collected and analyzed in a systematic fashion. In 2000, the Unified System of Information on Violence was established, dramatically improving the quality of the data. The municipality increased its investment in security programs from US$15 million in 1992–1994 to US$72 million in 1998–2000 (Llorente and Rivas 2004: 21). Around 75 percent of this investment went to fund hiring more policemen and police training. The city’s investment in the police, as well as the coordination between the municipality and the police, may have had a positive effect on police efficiency. Certain indicators such as the capture of suspects sought by the criminal justice system increased by more than 500 percent (Llorente and Rivas 2004: 21). At the same time, response time to emergency calls decreased substantially. These results are due to the modernization begun by the National Police itself, and the support provided by the municipality might have been helpful in that regard too. The consistency of the policies implemented by Bogotá is credited for a decrease in the homicide rate as well as for improvement of the security situation in general (Llorente and Rivas 2004: 21).5

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Community Policing in Bogotá In 1995 the metropolitan police of the city of Bogotá began to lay the foundation for what would be the implementation of a community policing model. Three factors came into play which were fundamental for the development of the model: (1) the will and initiative of the police; (2) citizen security as a top priority for the municipality; and (3) support from private businesses. The metropolitan office of the National Police of Bogotá developed a proposal for implementing community policing that was embraced by the central office, which viewed it as an experimental pilot program. To implement the model, the division of Community Policing selected a number of high-ranking officers, mid-level officers and patrol officers, arriving at a total of 1,064 functionaries who would form part of the division. To be eligible, the officers had to demonstrate an unblemished record, possess skills and sensitivity to community work and had to be recommended by their direct superior. On its part Bogotá’s police management invested more than US$2 million in the modernization of technological and police support resources and in training the officers. This training was directed originally toward thirty-one police officials who had been selected to form part of the Community Policing area, and who traveled to Spain to learn about the Policía de Proximidad (proximity police) in Barcelona. Mid-level officers and patrol officers were then trained in the development of skills required to facilitate closer relations with the community at Bogotá’s Universidad Javieriana. The community policing officials who received training in Spain were responsible for developing an action plan for implementing the model. The Bogotá Community Policing Action Plan was comprised of three areas: prevention, dissuasion and customer service (Llorente 2004). Management of the initiative was based on the notion of community mobilization, promoted by the Community Policing division to develop alliances that would strengthen the ties between the community and the police. Some strategies for community mobilization that were implemented by the Community Policing Division included support for the Local Security Councils and the Citizen Security Schools. The former, oriented toward strengthening the collaboration and self-protection of residents through neighborhood alarm programs and exchange of phone numbers; the schools, meanwhile, are centered around the formation of civic leaders in criminal matters, knowledge of police functions and of preventive actions that citizens may take. To fulfill the above-mentioned objectives in the action plan, the community policing model requires a significant presence on the ground, to allow the police

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to gain effective knowledge of the community’s needs. This assumes a higher percentage of police officers per resident than for traditional policing. However, the National Police responsible for public security in Bogotá has an average of 0.94 police officers per 1,000 inhabitants, distributed in police stations throughout the city. The Community Police Unit, for its part, is present in all of the stations, covering 43 percent of the city’s blocks. The Community Police unit only corresponds to 6 percent of the total police force in Bogotá and provides 0.31 police officers per 1,000 inhabitants, in addition to the rest of the police in charge of preventive patrolling (Llorente 2004). Thus, the objectives of the Action Plan seem to be too ambitious for the number of policemen in the Community Police. The inadequate territorial coverage of the community police is reflected in the victimization and security survey taken in Bogotá in 2000. In that survey, only 13 percent of households and 16 percent of commercial establishments were aware that the Community Police provided services in their neighborhood (Llorente 2004). Recently, the program has lost the impetus it had initially (Ruiz Vasquez 2005). Reforms to Improve Police-Community Relations in Other Countries In many other countries besides Colombia, programs have been initiated to bring the police closer to the community with the goal of improving community-police relations and thus contributing to more efficient policing. These programs have received the backing of the citizenry, but they have not been sustained over time, owing to constant political change that often leads to an emphasis on heavy-handed policies in direct contradiction with community programs (Frühling 2004). Thus far, those efforts have been valuable and important, but also specific and isolated. Overall, their impact with respect to the police has been limited, primarily because in Latin America community-policing initiatives involve pilot projects with limited intent to include the entire law enforcement institution. Too often excessive attention has been paid to the improvement in public relations and scarce attention to citizen participation, accountability to citizens, and problem-solving strategies.

Conclusion In the last two decades there have been a number of initiatives to modernize the police by putting into practice policies that promote more democratic forms of policing: independent from the armed forces, responsive to

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the legitimate demands of the citizenry and accountable to the law. In some cases these reform processes have been the result of strategic plans for police modernization that do not imply changes in police doctrine nor represent a rupture with past police doctrine. In others, the change has consisted of the creation of new civil police, as in Central America, or in significant cultural transformations, as has been the case in the National Police of Colombia. The difficulties these processes face are a result in part of certain characteristics of the police forces they seek to change. As we saw, the police of various countries and even between the police forces within one country face different realities in their communities. Such differences concern the organic structure of the police with varying levels of efficacy, the number of police forces in each country, their subordinate relationship to various levels of government and their national and international reputation. Latin American police forces in general terms, nevertheless, share some common characteristics. There exists a military tradition within the institution and many of the police forces have collaborated with recent military regimes. This has influenced their internal organization and the prevailing ideology among some of their personnel. Furthermore, nearly all police forces have vertical command structures and differences exist in the quality of formation between officials and lower ranking personnel. Until just a few years ago, subordinate personnel had not finished their secondary education and their salaries remain quite low. Certainly, these characteristics make democratic change processes more difficult, especially given the lack of police professionalization in some of the police forces. Internal resistance to profound changes feeds on the difficulty of adopting policing models that come from democratically advanced countries. Tougher police action to combat crime will always find support among police officials. In contrast, the influence of the military model expresses itself in a lack of confidence in supervision structures and resistance to oversight by civil authorities committed to police reform. The attempts at transforming the police that began in the 1990s were a response to increasing crime in the region, and in Chile, Argentina, Brazil, and Peru the governments proposed integral policies to address the situation. These are ambitious initiatives, the results of which are not yet apparent, given the lack of prior experience in coordinating efforts between diverse public agencies and the limited technical capacity in public policy matters for addressing crime that some countries have shown. In as far as they sought to transform the existing policing model, these reforms sought to achieve a demilitarization of the police, to improve the internal control of unlawful police conduct and police management, and to

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strengthen relations with the community. Without a doubt there have been positive advances in many countries in the region, even though these advances appear limited: in many respects policing in the region has remained flawed, both in terms of professionalization and the fully democratic character of its conduct when compared to more democratically advanced countries. The characteristics of the prevailing police model indicate that in order to be effective, reform initiatives must include a diversity of measures. These include changes in the selection and promotion of police officers, in doctrine, in police management, in systems to control bad police conduct and in operating procedures, among others. In order to consolidate the reforms, they must be global, and it is possible that the civil administration lacks the political “time” required to assume the costs of a task of this magnitude and which will at times confront resistance from within the police forces themselves, as well as political pressures to implement tougher measures to control crime. Our exposé suggests that the possibilities for change in policing are highly variable in the region. In some countries there are favorable conditions for change owing to political support for change that is shared across the political spectrum. In others, however, the situation is much less positive, either for political reasons or for reasons that have to do with the police themselves. For example, the case of the National Police of Colombia demonstrates that support from the central government and Bogotá’s city government, along with decentralization of the police management structure, contributed to enabling the process to advance in a particularly adverse social context, with corruption, drug trafficking and armed internal conflict. In addition, the police themselves showed the capacity to initiate at least some of the changes. But when compared to some countries in Europe and North America the Colombian experience also illustrates the limitations of the process of democratic change in policing. The installation of an external oversight mechanism for police conduct met with serious resistance from within the police, as did the establishment of a less hierarchical career ladder.

Notes 1. Online at www.polcrim.jus.gov.ar. 2. Rediseño del Plan Nacional de Prevención del Delito (Redesign of the National Crime Prevention Plan), htpp://www.pnpd.gov.ar. 3. “Guatemala: asesinan a policias” BBC Mundo February 27, 2007. Available at http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/spanish/latin_america/newsid 6396000/6396255.stm.

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4. On changes in the disciplinary system in the Peruvian police, see Basombrío and Rospigliosi 2006: 220–33. For an analysis of two provinces in Argentina, see Palmieri, et al., 2001: 177–220. 5. For a much less positive view of the Colombian police reform process, see Ruiz Vasquez et al. 2005.

3 On the Long Road to Demilitarization and Professionalization of the Police in Brazil Saima Husain

HE STRATEGIES REFERRED TO IN THIS chapter form part of the public security or police reform that has increasingly been implemented in Latin America since the 1990s (Frühling 2003). Implemented reform strategies include improved selection criteria, police training, community-oriented policing programs, enhanced internal and external oversight, improved working conditions, as well as a focus on ethics and mediation over the use of force (Frühling, Tulchin, and Golding 2003; The Independent Commission on Policing for Northern Ireland 1999). From the perspective of government and highranking law enforcement officials, these attempts at public-security reform have been created and implemented to counteract rising crime rates, improve the image of the police, or make the police more efficient (Mesquita Neto 2002; Chevigny 1995; Bayley 1994). Although these reforms were not created to specifically implement human rights, they have distinct human rights implications. Therefore, these attempts at reform are referred to as police human-rights strategies (Eijkman 2007; Husain 2007). Police human-rights strategies are defined as those laws, policies, projects, or programs that implicitly or explicitly aim to improve police compliance with international human rights standards. Although police respect for and compliance with all human rights is important, only a few human rights standards fall within the scope of this research. Due to the nature of policing in Brazil, I have chosen to focus on the following four human rights standards in my research: the right to life, liberty, and security (Article 3 Universal Declaration of Human Rights [UDHR] and Article 6 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights [ICCPR]), the right not to be subjected to torture

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or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment (Article 5 UDHR and Article 7 ICCPR), the right to equality before the law and equal protection by the law (Article 7 UDHR and Article 26 of the ICCPR), and the right not to be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention, or exile (Article 9 UDHR and Article 9 ICCPR). In addition to describing police human-rights strategies and their implementation; discussing the human rights relevance of these strategies; and examining the perceptions of the key actors and stakeholders involved in the reform process; my research also entails analysis of societal and institutional factors that either facilitate or impede the implementation of these strategies. The fieldwork for this research was conducted in Rio de Janeiro in 2003, 2004, and 2006. Although I researched four police human-rights strategies, limited time and space allow only two out of the four to be discussed in this chapter: community-oriented policing and the Model Police Station (delegacia legal) Program.1 These two strategies were selected due to the widespread nature of their implementation in Rio de Janeiro and because they serve as prime examples of the way concepts of demilitarization and professionalization could be practically implemented within police forces. The term ‘demilitarization’ is defined here as the process of eliminating the military character of an organization or replacing military control of an organization with civilian control. In the context of police reform in Latin America, this means separating the military police from the civil police, making clear distinctions between military tasks and police tasks, and placing the police under civilian control. The term ‘professionalization’ is defined as a movement towards becoming a professional body or behaving in a professional manner. In terms of police reform this refers to requiring higher selection standards, improved training, better working conditions, and a higher level in performing policing tasks.

Policing in Brazil The Brazilian police system is divided into federal and state police forces. The federal police, a relatively small force, is accountable for federal crimes such as terrorism, organized crime, federal fiscal crimes, border and immigration control, and the responsibility for indigenous peoples. The state police forces are responsible for policing all of Brazil’s twenty-six states as well as the federal district. As articulated in the Brazilian constitution in Article 144, policing in the Brazilian states is carried out by the military and the civil police forces.2 Both police forces fall under the office of the State Secretary of Public Security, a position appointed by the Governor of the State (Kant De Lima

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1995; Costa 1979). While every state is required to have both a military and civil police force, the states have a relatively high degree of autonomy in terms of the organization and administration of the two forces. Generally, the military police force (polícia militar) serves a preventative function and is organized into battalions. It is a uniformed force responsible for patrolling the streets, and maintaining public order, whereas the civil police (polícia civil), has an investigative and judicial function. The civil police is a non-uniformed organization divided into stations responsible for registering and investigating crimes. Due to their distinct history and responsibilities, the two state police forces work independently. The military police of Rio de Janeiro, a force of approximately 61,000 members (39,000 currently on active duty) is responsible for implementing community-oriented policing in Brazil.3 The Model Police Station Program is the domain of the civil police, with more than 12,000 currently serving the state of Rio de Janeiro. I will briefly outline the history and organization of both institutions below. The Military Police: History and Organization Organized policing in Rio de Janeiro was created in response to the relocation of the Portuguese court to Rio de Janeiro in 1808 resulting from the movement of Napoleon’s army across Europe (Holloway 1993). The presence of the Portuguese nobility in this backward colonial outpost resulted in the need for a full-time, professional security service. The Guarda Real da Polícia de Corte (The Royal Guard of Police of the Court) was created in 1809 to ensure the safety of the Portuguese nobility and to protect their interests. It was an oppressive force working for the nobility and not for the people. From the time of its creation until 1888, when slavery was abolished in Brazil, the royal guard was predominantly used to oppress and discipline slaves, quell slave uprisings, and protect the small, European minority from the poor, black, enslaved majority (Kant De Lima 1995; Holloway 1993). This repressive beginning was followed by the military police of the state of Rio de Janeiro, as it was later renamed. The military police was used by successive military governments to do their dirty work, for example, in the repression, arrest, and torture of ‘subversive elements’ during the last military dictatorship in Brazil (Huggins, Haritos-Fatouros, and Zimbardo 2002; Huggins 1998; Weschler 1990; Archdiocese of São Paulo 1986). Since the return to democracy in 1985, the military police force has undergone some reforms but retains its numerous military traditions and remains under the jurisdiction of the Special Military Tribunals (Frühling, 2003; Oliveira Muniz 1999). The state Secretary of Public Security, who in turn, is appointed by the state Governor, appoints the General Commander

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of the military police. The military police has a steep hierarchical structure that consists of the rank-and-file patrol officers, known as praças, and the high-ranking officials, known as oficiais. The patrol officers and high-ranking officials come from widely different socioeconomic backgrounds, attend separate police academies and training courses, and generally do not have much contact with each other outside of work. The low-ranking officers usually patrol the streets under the command of the higher-ranking officers who generally hold desk jobs as battalion or unit commanders.4 The Civil Police: History and Organization The organization currently known as the civil police was created in 1808 as an investigative body (Holloway 1993). Like the military police, the civil police are infamous for the violent treatment of political prisoners under military governments. During the military dictatorships and since Brazil’s return to democracy in 1985, the civil police have been the target of internal and external criticism. This criticism has revolved around the sorry state of the civil police stations, the unprofessional dress and manner of civil police officers, the organization’s lack of focus on investigation, and its reliance on violence and torture to solve cases (Chevigny 1995; Kant 1995; Archdiocese of São Paulo 1986). The civil police chief is appointed by the State Secretary of Public Security, who in turn is appointed by the state Governor. The police chief is always a delegado, the rank of civil police officers who possess a degree in law. Only delegados can serve as shift and station chiefs (delegado titular) or hold higher administrative functions. There are three classes of civil police officers of this rank. The delegados of the first class are the highest in the hierarchy and have the most experience, and many are appointed as station chiefs. The other civil police ranks, in descending order are: inspector (first to third class), recorder, and administrative clerk. Generally, inspectors are charged with investigating crimes whereas the recorder and administrative clerk tend to register crimes and perform other administrative functions. Although a hierarchy exists in the civil police, it is not as rigid as the hierarchy within the military police and it is common to see higher- and lower- ranking officers from the civil police eating and socializing together.

Broken Promises: Democracy’s Collision with a Severe Crime Wave Most Latin American countries went through successive cycles of authoritarianism, violent conflict, and (re)democratization. The hope, at the end of the

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last era of dictatorships in Latin America, was for consolidation of the rule of law (Pinheiro 1999). The return to civilian governments increased expectations that human rights protection achieved for political opponents during the process of democratization would be extended to all citizens under democracy. Yet despite the transition to democracy, many authoritarian practices continue. To this day there remains a significant gap between the letter of the new constitutions and law enforcement in practice. In many countries in Latin America, relations between civilian governments and society, especially the poor and marginalized members of society, have been characterized by the illegal and arbitrary use of power (Pinheiro 1999). Traditional concepts of the rule of law and social order continue to be prevalent in Latin American societies, allowing police forces to violate rights in order to fight crime effectively (Neild 2001). This is accompanied by a belief that certain groups—criminals and the lower classes—have fewer rights than others since they are considered to be a danger to the social order. Protecting the Elites From the Poor As a consequence of rising crime and an increasing public fear of crime in Latin America, “less democratic alternatives for fighting crime are on the rise, such as the reengagement of the military in internal security, arbitrary arrests and detention, torture and beatings, political and extra-judicial executions, and social killings by vigilante groups” (Glebbeek 2003: 38). In this context of rising crime and insecurity, police and other institutions of the criminal justice system tend to act as “border guards,” protecting the elites from the poor (Pinheiro 1999: 4). Police violence remains cloaked in impunity because it is largely directed against the ‘dangerous’ classes and rarely affects the lives of the privileged. In Latin America, most police officers tend to see the rule of law as an obstacle to, rather than an effective guarantee of, social control. This belief leads to a situation which Mendez, O’Donnell, and Pinheiro (1999) aptly term “the (un)rule of law.” Many officers believe that their role is to protect society from “marginal elements” by any means available. Therefore they tend to indulge in a policy of “shoot first and ask questions later” (Pinheiro 1999: 5). The victims of police violence predominantly tend to be members of the most vulnerable group so these police actions can be seen as a way for the police to eliminate the undesirable elements in a society. But what further complicates this picture is the acquiescence of the majority of the population who fully support such killings.5 Many Latin American police forces have historically been military in nature, without strict separation between the police and the armed forces. Bayley (1993) lists five specific characteristics of these police forces: (1) a significant

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percentage of public complaints against the police involve allegations of serious crimes and the public resorts to the police only when it was absolutely necessary; (2) the police respond more to the needs of government than the demands of the citizens; (3) Latin American police use force more frequently than police in developed democracies in comparable situations; (4) there is less oversight of police forces in Latin America than in other democratic countries; (5) there is generally little public support for the police and subordinates in the police hierarchy who obey orders but lack the autonomy to respond creatively to the problems they face. Legitimizing Police Abuse Building on Bayley’s characterization, Chevigny (1999) concludes that the common—and mistaken—choice for the military role in Latin America has been the result of politicians increasingly accepting a semi-military model of public security in which “it is the job of the police to fight the enemy— crime—that is embodied in the person of the criminal” (Chevigny 1999: 49). Some politicians have accepted a formula according to which it is the job of the police to reduce crime, regardless of other institutions of law and the criminal justice system (Tulchin and Golding 2003; Chevigny 1999; Pinheiro 1999). Political leaders also suggest that police abuses are directed not against ‘the people’ as a whole or even the poor but only those few demonized as antisocial, occupying the margins of society (marginais). Elected officials, as well as law enforcement officials, complain that defendants have too many rights, that the courts function as a sort of revolving door and that the police have to mount a ‘war on crime.’ The media too, plays a role here by focusing on sensational crime stories and escalating the existing feelings of insecurity. In areas marred by great socioeconomic inequality, politicians can thus be tempted to give an impression of strength and decisiveness by being tough on crime and the criminal justice system without having to come to grips with problems of economic and social injustice (Pinheiro 1999). In this way, they shift the blame of some of societies’ ills onto the poor, or at least that portion of poor who can be labeled marginal and dangerous. This is also largely true for Brazil. Despite its return to democracy in 1985, Brazil faces a severe problem regarding the rule of law. Over the years it has been increasingly plagued by problems of violence, criminality, and insecurity (Ahnen 2003). For example in 2000, there were 46,000 homicides in Brazil, and 70 percent of those were firearms related (ISER 2002). Simultaneously, the Brazilian government has been under pressure to improve the ability of the state and its agents to uphold human rights. In addition to the consolidation of democracy in Brazil coinciding with a widespread increase in criminal

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violence, the state also continues to be involved in human rights abuses (Frühling 2003; Koonings 1999). Human rights abuses have continued on a daily basis, often in greater numbers than during the period of authoritarian rule, with the majority of perpetrators going unpunished.

Searching For Security Since the early 1990s feelings of insecurity in Latin America have been on the rise, insecurity which has been enhanced by the media nurturing the belief that “the haves are under the siege of the have nots and that only the most repressive kind of policing will protect them and their property” (Brodeur 1999: 73). In political terms, it has become imperative to respond to these feelings of insecurity. A failure to do so might have immediate and clear consequences, yet the appropriate response is not always clear to governments and policy makers. Increased feelings of insecurity and pressure to live up to human rights standards result in new and often conflicting demands being placed on the police, as they are pushed toward legality, accountability, and respect for human rights (Glebbeek 2003). The police are expected to focus exclusively on tasks related to law enforcement and the protection of individual rights. However, rising crime rates and increased public fear of crime often demands more authoritarian and repressive tactics to fight crime. “High crime rates, resilient authoritarian cultures, and weak judiciaries prompt governments to reintroduce military forces into local-level policing by increasing existing police powers, and enforcing stricter legal penalties, thereby jeopardizing newly won rights and risking a return to authoritarian policing” (Neild 2001: 21). The steep increase in crime combined with the poor quality of the police forces and societal feelings of insecurity have made it necessary to implement a range of policy measures, among them attempts at public security reform and police reform (Frühling 2003; Glebbeek 2003). Yet governments that attempt to promote reforms to address the multifaceted problems of crime and impunity may find themselves in no-win situations. The failure of these new democracies to require their own institutions to respect internal laws and international obligations seriously compromises their legitimacy. As a result, these governments are likely to have difficulty garnering popular support for reform. Also, ‘crime waves’ may result in demands to curb reforms and to allow the use of whatever force is seen as necessary to deal with crime (Tulchin and Golding 2003).6 Politicians in search of votes often promise to be tough on crime. Yet the tendency in Latin America is for such promises to further weaken the foundations of the rule of law and due process (Frühling 2003). Furthermore, reforms will not necessarily alter the reality of crime, violence,

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and insecurity, nor do they necessarily signify a break with the past. This is true in Brazil, where the police’s lack of credibility has had a severe impact on public security and on the legitimacy of political authorities. Legitimizing Police Use of (Deadly) Violence Reports of Latin American police forces using violence against suspects have become increasingly common. This use of often deadly force in most major Latin American cities does not appear to have an open social or political aim as it did during the military dictatorships. Police violence is now justified as a way to control ordinary crime in poverty-stricken neighborhoods (Chevigny 1999). Clearly torture and summary executions are directed mainly against common criminals and the underprivileged—never against middle-class citizens. The police often claim that killings are a result of shoot-outs with armed criminals. Yet they kill more suspects than they wound and inflict more casualties than are received.7 Many of the killings, it has become clear, are the result of a militarized approach to policing: criminals, or even marginals, are enemies to be killed. Police commanders claim that the killings reduce crime directly by eliminating criminals (Jornal da Polícia 2005; Chevigny 1999). Hence the police organization bypasses the entire criminal justice process, claiming the legal system is helpless to control the problem. But evidence confirms that most of those killed are not the violent criminals that the police and the public suspect them to be (Cano 1998). Barbellos (1992) concluded that more than half of those killed in shoot-outs with the police had never had any previous contact with the criminal justice system and most were not even suspected of a violent crime when they were shot. Some of this violence has come from special squads, who have become a law unto themselves. This kind of violence is a form of vigilantism, the police version of eliminating undesirables. According to Chevigny (1999) this problem of the police engaging in social cleansing is most pronounced when the government is weak and there is rebellious activity against the government, or where there is a large amount of private vengeance and vigilantism. Legitimizing Police Abuse in Rio de Janeiro The scenarios alluded to by Chevigny certainly apply to the city of Rio de Janeiro, with its six million residents, approximately one-third of whom live in one of the six hundred favelas scattered around the city (BBC 2003; Dowdney 2003). Although favelas have existed in Brazil since the 1800s, they have largely been ignored and abandoned by the Brazilian government throughout most of the twentieth century (Huguet 2005; Lowry 2003). Not only has this resulted

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in a strong sense of mistrust of politicians, but it has also created a power vacuum within the favelas that has been filled by criminal gangs (Dowdney 2003; Cano 1998). Leeds (1996) refers to these criminal organizations as “parallel power structures” because they challenge the authority of state institutions like the police and may be regarded as informal establishments of control and coercion. Drug barons, who are deeply involved in drug trafficking, nevertheless provide a certain amount of security for favela residents and control Rio de Janeiro’s favelas. These drug gangs, who often finance football teams and samba schools, also employ approximately 6,000 children and adolescents between the ages of ten and eighteen as ‘soldiers’ in the drug war (Dowdney 2003; Astor 2002). Between 1987 and 2001, 3,940 children were killed by firearms in Rio’s favelas while they were working as lookouts and drug-runners (Dowdney 2003). These high rates of violent death are not just limited to children involved in the drug trade. Brazil, in general, has a startlingly high rate of violent, gun-related deaths (Cavallaro 1996). There are twenty-five gun-related deaths per 100,000 every year in Brazil (Pan-American Health Organization 1999). In the shantytowns around the country, and particularly in Rio de Janeiro, this rate climbs to 150 per 100,000 deaths (ISER 2002). For young men, typically poor and black, between the ages of seventeen and twenty-four in Rio de Janeiro this rate is around 250 per 100,000 (ISER 2002; Cano 1998). The majority of these violent deaths occur when rival drug gangs attempt to take control over each other’s territories, and by extension drug trade, or when the police raid the favelas in order to conduct arrests or confiscate illegal drugs or guns. Efforts to police Rio’s favelas have historically involved the traditional militarized model of policing (Amnesty International 2005; Dowdney 2003; Human Rights Watch 1994). This typically consists of entering favelas heavily armed and in force, using brutal and repressive tactics against its residents, and engaging in shoot-outs with suspected drug traffickers that often leave many civilians dead or injured. Use of Lethal Force: Cause for Concern An Organization of American States Report (1997) on human rights in Brazil quoted several military police officers who believed that killing criminals rather than detaining them was a more effective way to fight crime. They were wary of handing suspects over to the civil police, who they accused of accepting bribes and conducting substandard investigations. Civil police officers were distrustful of forwarding cases to the public prosecutor’s office as they considered the entire criminal justice system inefficient and ineffective. Certain members of society, who pay police officers to keep them safe, further encourage the abuse and murder of suspected criminals. Police officers

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are often hired by businessmen and shop owners to eliminate crime, establish order, and protect their neighborhoods. Some off-duty officers work together in death or extermination squads. These squads target the poor, street children, and other marginalized groups and in certain cases may be offered as much as $1,000 per killing (Buckley 2000). That is a substantial sum for military police officers who generally earn $300-$500 a month.8 For many of these officers, violent acts such as murder are seen as the most effective way to combat crime and establish order. The brutal and violent behavior of the Brazilian police is partly due to the impunity with which they are allowed to operate. Historically, their actions have been ignored, supported, or encouraged by superior officers and the Brazilian community-at-large (Macaulay 2002; Neild 2001; Human Rights Watch 1999). These violent police policies and practices have widespread public support in Brazil. The prevailing perception is that defending human rights invariably means defending the rights of criminals. The slogan, “a good criminal is a dead criminal” has helped several politicians win elections and has led to impunity for those who have killed street children, landless peasants, prisoners, and suspected criminals (Cabral Gontijo 2004).

Heading Toward Police Reform The expectations of Latin Americans and the international community about the outcome of democratization in the region did not materialize. In countries such as Brazil, violence and human rights violations during democracy far outnumber the occurrence of such incidents under authoritarian rule (Amnesty International 2005; Justiça Global 2004; Ahnen 2003). Police violence against a certain segment of the population only increases the feelings of insecurity in Brazilian society and fosters more distrust and dislike of the police. In Rio de Janeiro, the police forces are essentially at war against gangs involved in drug trafficking. The police policy of shooting first and asking questions later as well as the gun battles between rival drug factions have resulted in homicide rates that are higher than in most countries officially at war (Huguet 2005; Dowdney 2003). Although a majority of the population supports the police’s tough stance against crime and does not mourn the death of real or suspected drug traffickers, they continue to distrust the police and are not satisfied by the service provided. This dissatisfaction has led local politicians and police commanders to take steps to try to improve police service and image.

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Different Reform Agendas The violence that accompanied democracy put internal security and maintaining order high on the political agendas of the elected governments and provided motivation to reform the police forces and public security systems. While virtually everyone seems to agree that reform is necessary, no broad consensus exists yet as to how best to accomplish that goal (Tulchin and Golding 2003). Public security and police reform strategies implemented thus far have concentrated mainly on “the development of new methods to reduce crime and violence, the professionalization of the police forces, improvement of relations between the police and community and an emphasis on resource management to improve police efficiency” (Frühling 2003: 21). Since the late 1990s several reform strategies in Rio de Janeiro and elsewhere in Latin America have sought to professionalize and demilitarize the civil and military police forces. These strategies aim to improve the selection and training of law enforcement officials, create professional forces specially prepared to engage in police work, reduce crime and make the police more accessible, improve police ability to engage in dialogue with the general population, improve police-public relations, decrease incidents of police abuse, and increase police productivity. To Demilitarize or Not to Demilitarize Authoritarian and military regimes dominated most of Latin America from the 1960s to the 1980s. Stimulated by a fear of communism that was further encouraged by the United States, these regimes adopted a doctrine of national security (Glebbeek 2003; Huggins et al. 2002; Weschler 1990). The fundamental notion of this doctrine is that the security of the state is in jeopardy and threatened by a strong, internal enemy. During these years many governments and their military forces considered themselves in a state of war against this internal enemy. In some countries, police forces used military intelligence and functioned as death squads under military command to carry out the torture, murder, and disappearance of those threatening the safety of the state. Many police forces became militarized in their command, personnel, and doctrine, often falling under the command of the Ministry of Justice (Glebbeek 2003). Since the transition to democracy, a few Latin American police forces have managed to free themselves from military influence or have adopted a civilian doctrine. But the majority of police forces in post-authoritarian Latin America have remained military in character (Bayley 1993). The lack of specialization in policing demonstrated by Latin American police forces and their lack

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of differentiation from the military, goes far beyond the existence of hierarchies and military custom, which also characterizes some of the police forces in Europe. Due to the paucity of democracy in Latin America, the region’s armed forces performed the policing functions and demoted the police forces to the task of repressing political opposition (Frühling 2003). This historical militarization has had an impact on the excessive use of force employed by the police, which led to a high number of civilian deaths along with the prevalence of other human rights violations. Consequently, police doctrine places little importance on the rights of individuals and creates hostile relationships between the police and certain citizens by using social and racial profiling to deal with crime (Ramos and Musumeci 2004; Chevigny 1995). This is particularly relevant in South America, in contrast to Central America, where the military nature of the police remained unchanged.9 Continued Military Influence Even those few police forces that have managed to free themselves from the influence of the military and have altered their doctrine to civil principles are frequently composed of former military personnel. Only some of these former military officers have been provided with specialized police training (Eijkman 2007; Glebbeek 2003). Despite the transition to a civil doctrine, military hierarchy is maintained within these forces with former military commanders incorporated into the highest positions of the police force. For example, prior to 1998 the position of the state secretary of public security in Rio de Janeiro was always occupied by a former military commander (Oliveira Muniz 1999). Furthermore in a number of countries, civilian governments have responded to the rise in crime and violence by re-engaging the military in internal security (Bailey and Dammert 2006: 258; Neild 1999). While the military have not intervened in politics and the public concern about military violence against politicians and political activists has diminished, they have participated in the maintenance of law and order, and the public apprehension of military violence against ordinary citizens has increased since the transition to democracy (Glebbeek 2003; Human Rights Watch 1994). In areas where guerrillas or criminal factions present a potential threat, the police function as a military force, demonstrating “an attitude on part of the officers that is diametrically opposed to the sense of mutual cooperation with the citizenry that should prevail in police work” (Frühling 2003: 33). In this way the doctrine of internal security that was once used against political opponents has not been discredited and discontinued but rather continues to be applied against a different internal enemy: common criminals and the poor.

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Disconnecting Internal and External Security Over the years, the need to demilitarize internal security has become clear. Demilitarization must take place to disconnect internal and external security, or national and public security. It is important to distinguish between police and military tasks, to allow elected civilian officials to exercise effective control over internal security policy, and to reduce police use of force. Demilitarization is imperative in order to eliminate authoritarian and violent police behavior, improve police-community relations, and ensure that the police are responsive to the needs of the public. Brodeur (1999) in his comments on Chevigny (1999) makes a fundamental distinction between what he refers to as the constabulary or police ethos and the military ethos. “The constabulary ethos is defined by the minimal use of force to solve problems that require the imposition of a solution” (Brodeur 1999: 80).10 The military ethos, on the other hand, involves “the use of overwhelming force to gain total supremacy over an enemy in an attack and to ensure that the foe inflicts the least possible damage on its attackers.” Bayley (2001) further cements this distinction when he writes about how the civilian approach to policing can be undermined by military involvement. This occurs when soldiers take orders from above rather than responding to the appeals of individual citizens or the community that they serve and they tend to indulge in a much less restrained use of force. The task of policing, on the other hand, requires engaging in dialogue with the community, using mediation skills, and exercising discretion in the use of force. The drive, by certain groups, to demilitarize policing in Latin America aims to flatten the hierarchy within police organizations and allow police officers to interact more freely with the community they serve and adjust to the community’s concerns instead of simply obeying from above. Demilitarizing the police is a strategy to teach the police to interact with members of the community as people, and not as the enemy, in order to decrease incidents of excessive force by police against the population and to increase police-citizen interaction, thus improving police-community relationships. The repressive and militarized manner of policing engaged in by the two state police forces in Rio de Janeiro and the accompanying civilian casualties demonstrate the need to demilitarize policing in the city, and ideally would lead to questioning the usefulness of a war mentality and decrease the use of force by police officers. The Drive Toward Professionalization The history of Latin American police forces reflects the dominance of particularistic criteria in the process of selecting, promoting, and removing officers

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who are often dependent on their loyalty to, and the support of, parties, groups, and officials (Frühling 2003). Personal influence in the selection of law enforcement officials and the recent increase in crime, which has pressured government officials to increase the number of police officers on street patrol, has led to relaxing the criteria used to select new recruits. Recruits are likely to be selected because of who they know, how they might be of use to police of higher rank, or simply because they are warm bodies able to fill up a uniform and not because they are the most qualified persons for the job. This, along with the prevalence of low quality recruits who indulge in violence, corruption, and other human rights violations highlights the need for greater professionalism within the police. Professionalism can mean different things: a professional body attempts to remain legitimate and maintains an assessable level of efficiency (Frühling 2003), or using specific criteria for “recruiting and training personnel, the rules governing promotion and retirement, and in an interest in and emphasis on the familiarity with the use of technology” (Bayley 1985: 47-50). However, a professional police organization is not necessarily one that behaves perfectly and does not indulge in human rights violations. In fact, traditionally police groups that commit the most atrocities have also been seen as the most professional, at least in terms of Bayley’s criteria. Some of the most elite police units have strict, set guidelines for selecting new recruits, and after the selection process they are heavily trained. Often having access to the latest technology and rules that govern their conduct and progression through the unit, they also tend to be the most efficient violent police units. But this is not what I mean by professionalization. In my perspective, professionalizing a police organization should entail improved selection criteria so that those entering the police are not abusive, are provided with better training, improved working conditions and increased access to resources, access to technology and a better use of that technology to cut down on the excessive use of force, and improved supervision and accountability mechanisms to hold police officers accountable for their behavior. Research has shown that reforms focused on professionalization are implemented for three important reasons: the need to reduce crime and violence, to strengthen relations between police and society, and to emphasize resource management strategies ensuring greater police efficiency (Bayley 1994; Bayley and Shearing 1996). Professionalization occurs when there are changes in police doctrine that aim to incorporate democratic values into police activity, with the police relating to citizens as equals. Sophisticated methodologies can then be used to evaluate the impact of policing strategies on crime, recruitment and training, and efforts are made to implement police research and planning in order to respond more precisely to public demand.

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Within a democracy, the police are supposed to follow a code of conduct that protects human rights. They carry out their duties in the public interest and public service and are responsible for preventing violations of the law. Mechanisms are instituted to ensure accountability to the public for strategies used to protect the public, and for the efficiency and sincerity with which they are carried out. A professional police force respects the perceptions, interests, and values of all the people (Frühling 2003). Professionalizing the police in terms of properly selected and trained individuals who are adequately monitored offers the possibility for improvement of the quality of police work as well as reducing the level of police violence.

Demilitarization at Work: Community-Oriented Policing The concept of demilitarization is manifest behind the implementation of community-oriented policing in Rio de Janeiro. Although this police humanrights strategy has been implemented in different ways throughout the world, the basic idea behind the strategy remains the same. A report by the United States Department of Justice described community-oriented policing as “a shift from a reactive, incident driven method of policing to a pro-active, problem solving force” (Wycoff 1995). Community-oriented policing programs worldwide hope to develop close ties between the police and community by combining the efforts of police, local government officials, and the community to identify common crime-related problems and work together in order to solve them. Community-oriented policing was initially implemented in Rio de Janeiro in 1995 as a pilot project in the neighborhood of Copacabana.11 Faced with the task of policing this nationally and internationally prominent and incredibly heterogeneous neighborhood at a time when crime was on the rise, the state governor approached the commander of the nineteenth military police battalion and organizations such as the Friends of Copacabana, the Resident’s Association of Copacabana, and the Association of Businessmen of Copacabana.12 Together they came up with a pilot project that increased police presence in the neighborhood, made the police more accessible to the population, and involved the population in helping to increase security in their neighborhood. Building on a Good Foundation Based on the positive outcomes of the pilot community-oriented policing project in Copacabana, community-oriented policing programs have also

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been implemented elsewhere in the state of Rio de Janeiro. The plan to involve civil society and implement community-oriented policing on a statewide basis was first revealed by then state governor Anthony Garotinho in 2000 as part of his State Plan on Public Policies for Security, Justice, and Citizenship (Garotinho, Magalhães, and Silva 2000). Despite these plans, community-oriented policing is currently only practiced in some areas of the state by officers who are chosen and assigned to a particular location or by officers who volunteer to partake in community-oriented policing programs. Therefore, in some neighborhoods in Rio de Janeiro, community-oriented policing and traditional policing are being carried out simultaneously by police officers from the same battalion (Oliveira Muniz 1999). Along with their regular training as military police officers, those officers selected to implement community-oriented policing are also trained in conflict prevention and mediation, the importance of a positive police image, professional ethics, tolerance and acceptance of diversity, domestic violence, procedures to follow with children and teenagers, assistance techniques, and local security planning. These specially trained officers engage in four different co-existing forms of community-oriented policing in Rio de Janeiro: (1) Community Breakfast (Café da Manhã Comunitário); (2) Community Security Councils (Conselho Comunitário de Segurança), (3) Special Areas Policing Group (Grupamento de Policiamento em Áreas Especiais - GPAE), and (4) Community Policing Patrols (Policiamento Comunitário). Community Breakfast The first Monday of each month all the military police battalions in the state host a breakfast meeting aimed at increasing contact and communication between the police and the community. Community leaders along with representatives of resident associations, local development agencies, businesses, schools, churches, and clubs are invited to these meetings. These monthly meetings help representatives of the community to get to know the military police officers responsible for the safety of their communities. Community Security Councils The purpose of community security councils is to enhance the interaction between the two police forces and between the police forces and civil society in each Integrated Area of Public Security (Área Integrada de Segurança Pública – AISP).13 These meetings are consultative in nature and involve regular contact between the representatives of local associations, the military police battalion, and the civil police stations. The main goal of council meetings is to discuss spe-

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cific problems and elaborate on an agenda for police work that can also be used as an evaluation tool. These meetings facilitate development of relationships between the representatives of the police forces and the community members and provide open channels of communication. At this time community security councils operate in thirty-four of the thirty-nine AISPs in the state of Rio de Janeiro. These meetings take place monthly in addition to other meetings between representatives of the police forces and the community. Special Areas Policing Group (GPAE) The special areas policing group was created by former Sub-Secretary of Public Security of the State of Rio de Janeiro Luiz Eduardo Soares and was coordinated by Major Carballo of the military police force in cooperation with non-governmental organizations and the church (Justiça Global 2004).14 Initially it was implemented in the Pavão-Pavãozingo-Cantagalo favelas between the neighborhoods of Copacabana and Ipanema in September 2000. The special areas policing group is a section of the Rio de Janeiro military police force, specifically created as a way to implement community-oriented policing in areas considered by the state governor to be dominated by illicit drug trafficking, that is, favela communities. It is the job of the state governor to decide where the program is to be implemented.15 Before the start of this program, the police forces of Rio de Janeiro had never had a daily presence in the favelas. This policing group is an alternative to traditional policing practices in the favelas in Rio de Janeiro and is based on the notion that all communities in the state have a right to police protection. It establishes the police as a permanent, interactive presence within highly populated communities. The officers assigned to the special areas policing group work within the framework of community-oriented policing philosophy (Olmos 2002). They attempt to integrate their services with other agencies, civil society, and the community itself. The basic goals of the GPAE program are to increase the integration of poor communities, support cooperation between the police and community residents, and to decrease violence. Police officers assigned to the GPAE program were trained to be aware of and to respect the rights of others. The intent was to teach police that it was not just their duty to protect the elite from the masses but that the masses were worthy of protection as well (Soares 2000). To make these changes happen, and to result in better police-community relations, community-oriented policing in Rio’s favelas was implemented with three basic rules. Under the GPAE program there should be no armed people in the neighborhood, no children involved in drug trafficking, and no abuse of citizens by the police (Dowdney 2003; Olmos 2002; Garotinho et al. 2000).

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Community Policing Patrols Along with the three community-oriented policing practices described above, the Rio de Janeiro military police force also conducts community-policing patrols in certain neighborhoods. These patrols resemble what is internationally regarded as community-oriented policing (Kelling and Coles 1997; Wycoff 1995). Officers participating in community-oriented policing activities are taught to have, as their primary preoccupation, a preventative resolution of problems encountered in the communities where they are permanently assigned. This permanence means that community-policing officers get to know, and develop a healthy relationship with the people they are policing. This factor demands a decrease in the tendency in Rio de Janeiro to constantly change or move officers around as substitutes for those law enforcement officers who are on holiday or absent from duty. Another drastic change to traditional policing practices in Brazil is that under the community-oriented policing philosophy, individual law enforcement officers require more independent decision-making responsibilities. Community-policing officers need to be able to evaluate a situation, make decisions, resolve problems, and prevent future difficulties from taking place. This requires a degree of decentralization that is rare in the highly centralized and hierarchical military police forces in Brazil.16 Decreasing Distance, Increasing Community Involvement The main purpose of the initiatives has been to decrease the distance between the police and the population and allow people to participate in the process of securing their neighborhood. Community-oriented policing effectively demilitarizes the police officers involved in it. Instead of engaging in traditional, repressive policing tactics, these officers develop a dialogue with the community they are assigned to, engage in mediation to solve problems, and explore options before employing force. This increases community members’ understanding of police work and procedures, and law enforcement officials’ understanding of community opinions and concerns regarding security and their community. Cooperation, communication, and understanding between the two parties decrease the likelihood of conflict occurring between them. Not only does this mean that police officers and community members get along better but it also means that community members know and recognize law enforcement officials who indulge in abusive behavior. In this way, they can recognize law enforcement officials who abuse their power. A good, open relationship between community representatives and high-ranking police officials can ensure that abusive officers are held accountable and these prob-

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lems are resolved. By increasing the understanding and cooperation between the police and the public, decreasing the incidence of conflict between them, and enabling the community to hold abusive police officers accountable, community-oriented policing in Rio de Janeiro functions as a police human-rights strategy. Community-Oriented Policing in Two Rio de Janeiro Neighborhoods Copacabana There is considerable police presence on the streets of Copacabana. Police officers are visible and available day and night, not just riding in cars but also walking among the population, standing at street corners, and in community policing posts that are placed a few meters apart down the length of the main avenue in Copacabana. This enables people to interact with and have access to police officers whenever they wish and increases the general feeling of comfort and security in the neighborhood. Apart from the community-policing patrols, police officers and community members of Copacabana also participate in the community breakfast and community security councils. These meetings are well attended by community representatives, but within the police it is primarily the higher-ranking officials and specialized police officers that attend them. This occurs not just on a statewide or municipal level but also on the local level. It is important to have the support and involvement of those responsible for policing in a particular area, especially since it is difficult to accomplish anything in Brazil without the consent of a superior. Yet not involving regular officers in these meetings alienates them from the discussion and decision-making process. These officers do not feel they are an integral part of the project. They simply follow orders and do not have a say in the project on a deeper level. It is therefore difficult for the lower-ranking officers to take community-oriented policing seriously because it does not alter anything for them or their daily policing duties: This community-oriented policing project is just for show. It does not really mean anything. Nothing has changed for us or the way we work. We continue to patrol the streets and do what we have always done. We do not get to voice our opinions or discuss the problems we encounter in doing our jobs. They just tell us what to do (Male, 23, military police soldier, nineteenth battalion).

The higher-ranking officers who deal with the community are frequently transferred or they choose to accept other positions. This leaves the community to build a relationship with the new commander who may or may not be

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enthusiastic about community-oriented policing. This is also the case with specialized police officers, some of whom have received training abroad on human rights, community-oriented policing, and conflict resolution. Much of the process of implementing a community-oriented policing program depends on these specialized officers. Yet these officers are often transferred or choose to pursue their career elsewhere for personal or monetary reasons.17 Not only does this mean a loss of knowledge but also a loss of guidance and enthusiasm that these specialized officers convey. As lower-rank officers are only involved in the practical elements of patrolling the streets and making arrests, this knowledge and enthusiasm is usually not passed onto them. Therefore when high-ranking or specialist officers relocate, the programs they were in charge of often do not have anyone to guide, or take responsibility for them. This was one of the criticisms voiced most fiercely by community representatives. According to one community representative: In my community we try so hard to establish good relations with the police. We attend all the meetings, we cooperate, and when you finally feel like you are getting somewhere they go and transfer the commander or the community-oriented policing officer. People who don’t know anything or don’t care often replace them. . . . Not only do they not ask us about the transfer, they don’t even tell us about it. One day the old commander is simply gone (Female, 52, small-business owner).

Despite these problems, the implementation of community-oriented policing has improved the relationship between police officers and community members and allowed them to work together toward some common goals. Yet they have not decreased the community members’ feelings of insecurity. Whereas studies suggest that actual rates of crime have decreased since their peak in the late 1990s and are now leveling out, feelings of insecurity have actually been increasing (Mesquita Neto 2002; Rotker 2000; Cano 1998). Constant news reports and discussion programs dealing with the rise in crime in Copacabana do not improve these feelings.18 Therefore despite their efforts to work together, promote security in the community, and improve the quality of life, the police and community members of Copacabana have failed to increase feelings of security. Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo The Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo favela is located in the south zone (zona sul) of Rio de Janeiro on a hill above the middle- to upper-class neighborhoods of Copacabana and Ipanema. It is estimated to have a population of between 17,000–20,000 inhabitants (Justiça Global 2004). Like the majority of favelas in Rio de Janeiro, it is a poor neighborhood marked by the absence of public

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services and the dominance of criminal gangs. This particular favela was controlled by a branch of a prominent gang known as the Red Command.19 Before the arrival of the Special Areas Policing Group (GPAE), the military police specialized force, BOPE, engaged in several operations to clear the favela of drug traffickers.20 In the initial months of the GPAE project, over a third of the officers were transferred or fired for bribery, extortion, violence, and mistreating citizens (Dowdney 2003; Olmos 2002). These initial months were difficult as both the police and the community were wary of each other and were not open to working together and trusting each other. As was the case with the implementation of community-oriented policing in the neighborhood of Copacabana, implementation in the Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo favela focused on the police working cooperatively with the residents’ association, local schools, churches, and other civil society groups. These parties met frequently to get to know each other. In these meetings, they would discuss the concerns of the community in relation to public security, and look for ways to work together. For the first time in history, officers had a constant presence in the PavãoPavãozinho-Cantagalo neighborhood. According to Major Carballo, his officers established a good relationship with the community and mutual respect exists between the two parties (Olmos 2002). The number of violent deaths in the favela were reported to have dropped significantly and the quality of life of the favela residents vastly improved (Dowdney 2003).21 More recent reports, however, suggest that violence and the killing of civilians by the police continues to occur (Amnesty International 2005). In March 2004, GPAE officers in Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo shot and killed three young men in the neighborhood (Justiça Global 2004). According to the officers, the victims were drug traffickers who were killed in a shoot-out with the police. The families of the victims and other community members believe the three young men were innocent and that the crime was covered up by the GPAE officers who destroyed the forensic evidence. In August 2004, GPAE officers were involved in another shooting of a young man in the Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo neighborhood (Justiça Global 2004). This case was similar to the one above in that the police believed they shot a drug trafficker while the community believed that the police executed an innocent man and tried to cover up the evidence. After these and other similar incidents in PavãoPavãozinho-Cantagalo, the community members conducted numerous demonstrations against police violence and made demands for justice in their neighborhood and in the surrounding neighborhoods of Copacabana and Ipanema. Instead of listening to the complaints of the community members and investigating the above mentioned cases, then-state secretary of public security Anthony Garotinho stated that anyone found demonstrating and

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interfering with public order would be charged with association with trafficking and considered a criminal (Justiça Global 2004; Folha de São Paulo 2004). These incidents suggest that violence continues to be a daily problem for Rio de Janeiro’s poor citizens. Other police units, including the specialized BOPE, continue to conduct operations into the favela. These operations are similar to the repressive military police operations described earlier, which cause problems not just between the police and the community but also between the GPAE officers and the BOPE officers. Five years after it was implemented in the neighborhood of Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo, the GPAE project still appears in its initial stage. Currently it has only been implemented in six of Rio de Janeiro’s more than 600 favelas¸ but in 2006 the state governor announced plans to expand it to include other favela communities. Of all the GPAEs, the first two seem to have had the most success. The GPAE officers had a good relationship with the community members in Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo and in the Morro do Cavalão and the two groups were able to overcome their differences and work together to improve the quality of life of the residents. Yet the success of this project was dampened by the ongoing repressive, violent operations carried out by other military police units. The other GPAE projects have not yet solidified because the police and the community have not yet learned to trust each other and work together toward a common goal. The process continues to be hampered by the long history of police violence against the poor, black residents of Rio de Janeiro and the long-running belief among the police that all favela residents are involved in crime and drug trafficking (Justiça Global 2004; Dowdney 2003). Due to the divergent nature of their histories and the type of programs implemented, the results of community-oriented policing in Copacabana and Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantagalo differ. On the whole, however, community-oriented policing initiatives in both neighborhoods have faced similar challenges including the population’s general distrust of the police, a lack of consistency in programs and those who are responsible for them, ongoing high levels of crime and even higher levels of insecurity, as well as conflict between community-oriented policing initiatives and traditional policing or special operations.

Professionalization at Work: the Model Police Station Program In 1999, then state governor Anthony Garotinho created the Model Police Station Program (Programa Delegacia Legal) to augment the professionalism, productivity, and quality of the service of the civil police in the state of Rio de

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Janeiro. This program provides continuous training for law enforcement officials, modern station surroundings, access to technology, and a restructuring of the process of police work to make the civil police more professional, accessible, and better able to serve the people. It signifies the largest and most expensive shift in civil police attitudes and procedures since the changes made at the beginning of the twentieth century.22 Within a six-year period, more than 223 million Brazilian reais (approximately US$90 million) have been invested in constructing and converting ninety-one model police stations across the state of Rio de Janeiro, supplying them with technological equipment, constructing eleven custodial homes to house criminal suspects, and employing necessary technical and administrative staff, a move that has created over a thousand jobs in the area of public security.23 Seventeen additional model police stations are in the process of being converted and Governor Rosina Garotinho promises to continue what her husband began, intending to convert all 159 police stations in the state into model police stations by the end of her term in office in January 2007 (Jornal da Polícia 2005). To ensure the success of the program, Garotinho created the Executive Group (Grupo Executivo) to manage it. This is a body of civil police officers and civilians charged with overseeing the day-to-day functioning of the program, making the expertise of the creators accessible to the numerous police stations where it has been implemented, offering technical back-up, and ensuring that the program goals are realized.24 Although referred to as a homogeneous body under the command of the civil police chief and the State Secretary of Public Security, the Executive Group employs civil police officers of different ranks, computer technicians, psychologists, social scientists, and management personnel who are committed to monitoring the cases registered within each station, offering advice, developing programs to better serve the needs of the police officers and to protect the data gathered on the model police station program system, as well as conducting research on crime and violence in Rio de Janeiro. Key Changes: Conventional Police Stations vs. Model Police Stations The goals of the Model Police Stations Program are to improve the productivity and quality of the service offered by the civil police in Rio de Janeiro. This is to be accomplished by training the police to be more professional, to focus on the methods of investigation, and to successfully resolve more cases. The creators of the program aimed to reestablish the image of the police and diminish the distrust and fear that kept the population from entering police stations.

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Inside a Conventional Police Station The difference between the converted and conventional police stations is obvious even from the outside. For example, the fourth DP housed within Rio de Janeiro’s central station—a hub of bus, train, and pedestrian activity in the heart of downtown Rio—that, despite its central location, has yet to be converted into a model police station. Therefore anyone walking up to the dark, dilapidated building is not able to see what is going on inside. Upon entering the station a person comes face-to-face with a civil police officer, wearing jeans and a button-down shirt with the buttons open halfway down his chest, sitting behind a typewriter. A person wishing to ask for directions, enquire about a shelter or other social assistance program, or to register a complaint has to wait in line for this police officer. In the case of registering a crime in a police report, a person would have to stand in front of the reception desk and describe the sequence of events in front of everyone present in the area, while the civil police officer typed. Five copies of the police report would be handed out and another copy filed at the station for future reference. Since there are no computers at conventional police stations like the fourth DP, the paperwork would be added to the already full room of case files. If a suspect is arrested, he would be brought in through the same reception area as citizens waiting to register a crime. He would be locked up along with the rest of the suspects and convicts in the building perhaps for his full sentence, thus contributing to the noise and tension present in the station. The conventional police stations are not air conditioned nor are there telephones or water fountains available for the citizens to use. On a few of the occasions when I conducted research within conventional police stations, they were out of water and therefore the bathrooms were out of use. Despite the condition of most conventional police stations there was, however, always one room that was an exception: the office of the station chief, a civil police officer with a law degree who is responsible for all the shifts and employees within a station. The office of the station chief in conventional police stations has an air conditioner, a computer, comfortable chairs and couches, a television, and bookshelves filled with books. The hierarchy within the civil police is clearly visible in this situation.

Inside a Model Police Station In contrast, the nearby fifth DP, which is a pilot for the Model Police Station Program, is rather inviting. The transparent glass entrance door allows employees and their actions to be completely visible both to citizens seeking assistance and those passing by. This decreases the mystery surrounding police

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actions and makes law enforcement officials more accessible to the people. The fifth DP is well-lit, air conditioned, and its bathrooms, telephones, and water fountain are accessible to everyone. These relatively small changes appear to create a big difference in some of the more vulnerable members of the homeless population. These persons, who used to fear the police, have begun spending the night next to the station where they know they will be safe and where they can have access to toilets and water. Civil police officers working in a model police station are required to wear jeans or trousers with dress shirts and ties to work giving them a more professional appearance. Upon approaching the reception desk in a model police station one is greeted by a social assistant or an intern. The social assistant is a civilian employee with a degree and work experience in the field of social science, psychology, social work, or communication. The interns are university students within the same fields who volunteer at the stations for a six-month period. The attendants, as social assistants and interns are called, cannot dispense legal advice since they are not law enforcement officers and do not have legal training but they are able to help the people in a variety of other ways depending on the type of assistance needed. In the case of lost documentation, they would register the types and numbers of the lost documents into the Model Police Station Program system and give the individual seeking assistance a form stating the loss and giving permission to request another copy of the lost documents. In the case of a legal but not criminal matter, the social attendants would search for an agency or lawyer that could better assist the client. For those individuals requiring social services, they would refer the client to appropriate agencies and programs. Last, in the case of a crime, the details of victims or witnesses would be entered into the Model Police Station Program system and the case passed on to a law enforcement official who would enquire about the details of the incident, and take the statements of all the parties concerned, fill out a police report and register the crime. Along with the process of registering a crime and beginning an investigation, which is conducted by civil police officers, the social attendants are also able to offer social support to victims of certain violent crimes. This support is available for all victims who ask for it, but for victims of sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence and attempted murder, they always take the victims to a private room to discuss the incident and the available services, such as access to psychological counseling or a safe house. Before civil police officers can begin working within a model police station, they are required to attend specific training sessions that explain the philosophy of the program, the importance of investigation, investigation methods, the Brazilian penal procedural code, human rights, equality, some psychology, software used, and firearms training.25 After the successful completion of this

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course the officers are entitled to an increase of US$200 in their monthly salary as long as they continue ongoing training by logging in at least twelve hours of training per month in the police station, at the police academy, or via Internet distance learning. This is the first time there has been such an emphasis on study and training within the civil police in Rio de Janeiro. In addition to modern functional surroundings, model police stations are also equipped with up-to-date equipment and have increased resources. The noisy, old typewriters used in the conventional police stations have been replaced by computers, printers, scanners, digital cameras, Internet, and links to other model police stations via a network, access to other databases, new cars, and better firearms. Each civil police officer has access to the same software and follows a uniform procedure when entering information that is secure, permanently accessible to the Executive Group and other model police stations, and provides data about the station and reported crimes in Rio de Janeiro. Finally, each converted station is connected to the central database and is therefore able to access information about crimes that occurred within the jurisdiction of other model police stations. With the assistance of the computer programs developed by the Executive Group, the station chief and shift chiefs are better able to coordinate investigations and closely supervise the work of each law enforcement officer. In the model police stations a backdoor is provided through which criminal suspects enter to avoid contact with the victims or witnesses who may be waiting in the reception area of the station to register the crime. During this process of registering a crime, the suspect is digitally photographed, and his/her image is loaded onto the computer and into the Model Police Station Program network. The suspect is fingerprinted in the old-fashioned way but digital fingerprinting will soon be introduced. In cases where no suspect is arrested, victims who saw their attacker are given the opportunity to browse the digital photographs available on the network. Suspects can be sought on the basis of age, sex, race, height and weight, distinguishing physical characteristics, address, location of the crime, modus operandi, known accomplices, aliases, and so forth. Arrested suspects can be identified by victims or witnesses in an identification room. Suspects are locked up in custodial rooms. There are two such rooms in each model police station, one for the male and one for female suspects. The rooms are 4m2, have an open toilet for the suspect’s use, and a window through which the suspect can converse with his or her lawyer and be provided with food. The suspects are only housed in these rooms temporarily, usually about three to four hours but always less than twenty-four hours, before they are transferred to a custodial house. By eliminating the longerterm holding cells, the creators of the Model Police Station Program have im-

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proved the environment of the police stations, reduced the stress experienced by the police officers, reduced the opportunity to abuse prisoners, and eliminated activities such as feeding, guarding, and transporting prisoners that interfere with the civil police officer’s primary tasks of registering and investigating crimes. Purposes of the Program Although Rio de Janeiro’s model police stations may not seem revolutionary by European or North American standards, they are an immense step forward for the Brazilian civil police. The main objectives of this program are to improve the image of the civil police, decrease people’s fear of the police, and enhance the productivity and quality of the work of the civil police especially in investigation techniques. Civil police officers are obliged to attend additional training before working in a model police station and must continue to take courses while employed at a converted station. They enjoy better working conditions, have access to technology, are trained to focus on investigating crimes, and are closely supervised in their work. These changes mean that the general population has access to clean stations and professionally dressed police officers, they are received and assisted by social attendants, and their cases are investigated by specially trained police officers who are not distracted by other tasks and who are better supervised by their superiors. In addition, the removal of jails from the civil police stations ensures that officers no longer have the opportunity to torture or abuse suspects. By providing the public with a better quality, more professional, and less violent police force, the Model Police Station Program can be considered an effective police human rights strategy. The Model Police Station Program in Different Neighborhoods While conducting fieldwork in Rio de Janeiro, I focused on three stations where the Model Police Station Program had been implemented. The first police station to be converted, the fifth DP is situated in the central business district. With its status as the first model police station and its location next to the Executive Group, just around the corner from civil police headquarters, it is viewed as a model station, providing an example for others to follow. Theft during the day and physical assaults at night are frequent occurrences in the area. Despite their own workload and the need to compensate the negligence of surrounding conventional stations, this police station has managed to maintain the standards expected of it. It won statewide acclaim in 2004 when it was reported that they had not fired a single gunshot while investigating and arresting suspects in their last 130 cases (Jornal da

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Polícia 2004). This was due in large part to the presence of a competent and involved station chief who closely supervised and motivated an equally competent staff who viewed solving crimes as a priority. With the transfer of the chief and a majority of the staff, it remains to be seen whether the fifth DP can maintain its high standards. The thirteenth DP is located in a privileged beachfront neighborhood, densely populated but with a relatively low crime rate. Yet in this station the least amount of progress had been made. Instead of serving everyone, the officers here often ignored poorer, darker citizens or attended to the better-off citizens first. Due to the high fear of crime in this area and the policies of the State Secretary of Public Security, policing involved focusing on and being suspicious of the poverty-ridden, homeless population. It has a higher standard to maintain as some citizens living within its jurisdictions are members of, or have connections with, the Executive Group and senior civil police officials, yet the station chief is not connected enough with his officers to be able to motivate them to increase the standard of the work performed and the services offered. The twenty-first DP is located in a troubled neighborhood, surrounded by shantytowns occupied by drug gangs. The crime rate in the area is high and so is the number of cases registered at the station. In order to deal with the heavy workload, more officers are employed here than in the other model police stations yet the number of cases per officer remains high. The workload is also unevenly distributed. Despite the fact that the station and shift chiefs are present and accessible, the majority of officers do not attend to the population or registered cases. This is not necessarily due to a lack of motivation: although slow in attending to the population, officers can spring to action if an external operation needs to be performed.26 It becomes obvious that the State Secretary of Public Security and civil police headquarters are not concerned with attending to the population in all neighborhoods. Areas like those under the jurisdiction of the twenty-first DP are the front line in the war against drugs and drug gangs and the importance of winning this war has been internalized by officers to the detriment of the rest of the population. To sum up, due to the divergent social realities of these neighborhoods, the motivation (or lack thereof) of individual officers, and the amount and type of supervision in place, the Model Police Station Program has had different outcomes in the diverse neighborhoods in Rio de Janeiro where it has been implemented. The workings of the fifth DP address the potential of this strategy to professionalize the civil police and increase police officers’ compliance with human rights standards. Other factors, such as the prevalence of the war mentality, the lack of culture of service to the population, and differing standards of supervision and control, need to be dealt with if this potential is to extend to the rest of the police stations involved in this strategy.

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Conclusion The programs of community-oriented policing and the Model Police Station Program can be viewed as efforts to demilitarize and professionalize the military and civil police forces respectively. Community-oriented policing begins to demilitarize the police officers by training them to attend to and cooperate with the people in order to solve problems. The military police officers engaged in this program are encouraged to step away from the military ethos, which involves attacking and overwhelming the enemy using the maximum amount of force. They are taught to communicate with the people, mediate conflict, and moderate the use of force. The Model Police Station Program similarly attempts to professionalize the civil police. Civil police officers participating in the program receive training to improve their ability to serve the people and conduct investigations. Those involved in the program have access to technology to assist them in their work, are closely supervised, are held responsible for their actions, and are encouraged to focus on conducting high-quality investigations and improve the image of the civil police in Rio de Janeiro. As discussed, these strategies have immense potential not only to demilitarize and professionalize the military and civil police forces, respectively, but also to enhance compliance of police officers with human rights standards. Yet the ability of these strategies to achieve their potential has been hampered by varying cultural, societal and institutional factors. Community-oriented policing has so far only been implemented in certain areas of Rio de Janeiro by specially trained officers. It is not a statewide strategy for the military police and goes hand in hand with traditional military policing. Consequently, although the community-oriented policing initiatives seek to demilitarize the officers involved, they have been unable to demilitarize policing in Rio de Janeiro in general. The mentality of a war against drugs and crime legitimizes repressive police actions that frequently result in the death of civilians continues to have a strong foothold in Rio de Janeiro. Likewise, to date more than half of the police stations in the state of Rio de Janeiro have been incorporated into the Model Police Station Program. Despite the promises of the state governor, she was not successful in incorporating the remaining stations into the program by the end of her term in office. Having some conventional and some converted stations in the same state, city, and even neighborhoods creates an immense amount of confusion among the population and discontent among law enforcement officials who do not all have access to the same service, resources, and technology. There also continue to be drastic differences in the functioning of those police stations that have

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already been converted. Several tendencies of the traditional method of civil policing, such as emphasizing fighting the war on crime rather than conducting investigations and targeting low-income communities, continues within the model police stations. The road to demilitarizing and professionalizing the military and civil police forces in Brazil thus remains long and full of obstacles. The state of Rio de Janeiro began its journey down this road a few years ago. Although it has already achieved some success in creating and implementing two promising police human-rights strategies, there is a long way to go for its police forces to be fully demilitarized and professionalized.

Notes 1. A literal translation would be ‘the Cool Station,’ as the Portuguese term legal is a popular term for something cool and hip. The creators of the project chose this name, as they wanted it to appeal to the masses, but also because the term means lawful. Therefore these stations are advertised as being cool, modern, and lawful at the same time. 2. http://www.senado.gov.br/web/codigos/const88/const88i.htm (Accessed October 21, 2005). 3. There are two factors that help explain the initiative of the military police to implement community-oriented policing. First, the military police more than the civil police were the focus of critiques and attacks concerning violence and abuse of authority. For the military police, not being able to change might have led to the loss of political support and legitimacy. Second, the military police are more able to gain legitimacy and political support through community-oriented policing (Mesquita Neto 2004). This type of policing improves preventative policing and police interaction with the community, which are the principal functions of the military police. 4. For more information on the hierarchy, selection, training, and organization of the military police of Rio de Janeiro, see Oliveira Muniz 1999, or www.policiamilitar .rj.gov.br. 5. For example, although there was some outcry after the 1993 massacre of eight sleeping street children near a church in Rio de Janeiro, many Brazilians had no sympathy for the victims. One resident was quoted as saying, “Many of these thirteen year olds have killed. They deserve to die” (Michaels 1993). 6. The subjective ‘feelings of insecurity’ and the objective conditions of crime and violence obviously need not be the same. Smulovitz (2000) stresses that public-opinion data indicates that the public grossly exaggerates the rates of crime and the consequences of crime in their neighborhood and their society. 7. According to a Human Rights Watch report (2001) the autopsies of 222 bodies that were killed by the police showed that 51 percent were shot in the back, while 23 percent were shot more than five times. More than half of these victims did not have a prior criminal record. This suggests the possibility that the victims were not killed, as officers suggest, during a shoot-out between the police and local drug gangs or

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while they were resisting arrest but that they might have been summarily executed (Human Rights Watch 2001; Chevigny 1995). 8. For more information on police salaries, see the website of the civil police of the state of Rio de Janeiro http://www.policiacivil.rj.gov.br/ (Accessed August 30, 2005) and the website of the military police of Rio de Janeiro http://www.policiamilitar .rj.gov.br/ (Accessed on December 1, 2005). 9. This is a consequence of the fact that police forces in South America were more than mere arms of the military, but rather had significant influence within the governmental structure themselves (Glebbeek 2003). 10. The constabulary or police ethos is further differentiated into the crime fighting and the public service ethos as even within the sphere of daily police work there can be two different foci (McLaughlin, 2005; Collier, 2000). As the names suggest, the crime fighting ethos focuses on the prevention and detection of crime whereas the public service ethos tends to focus on building a connection with the population and the provision of services. 11. Copacabana is a vibrant melting pot of people from all walks of life. Its numerous hotels, restaurants, and shops attract tourists from all over the world and employees from poorer states around Brazil and neighborhoods in Rio. Living among the tourists, shopkeepers, and waiters are the residents of Copacabana, many of whom have been present in the area since the glory days of Copacabana in the 1950s. 12. The nineteenth military police battalion has jurisdiction over the area of Copacabana and was responsible for the implementation of the pilot community-oriented policing project. 13. A new geographical distinction created in 1999 by the State Secretary of Public Security in order to better organize the implementation of public security and improve the service provided to the population. Each of the thirty-nine integrated areas of public security in the state of Rio de Janeiro are represented by the commanders of the military police battalions and the chiefs of the civil police stations in the area, thereby encouraging the civil and military police forces to work together to improve the implementation of public security in the state. 14. For more information on the former Sub-Secretary of Public Security of the State of Rio de Janeiro and public security reforms implemented during his tenure, see Soares 2000. 15. Since the positive implementation of this pilot project, the state government decided to extend its implementation to include three other neighborhoods: Morros (hill) da Formiga, Chácara do Ceu, and Casa Branca, Morro do Cavalão, and Morro da Vila Cruzeiro. 16. As mentioned above the military police force has a very steep hierarchical structure and strict distinction between the ranks. In this system the ideas of lower-rank officers are usually not heard or respected. 17. For example, Major Carballo who initially coordinated the GPAE program left his job in Rio de Janeiro to take a position at the Ministry of Justice in the capital Brasilia, whereas Major Roberto, the latest in the line of community-oriented policing experts within the military police in Rio de Janeiro resigned from the police to take a better paying job within the Public Prosecutor’s office in Rio de Janeiro.

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18. Noted in researcher’s field notes on the basis of daily observations. 19. For more on the history and functioning of drug gangs in Rio de Janeiro, see Huguet 2005 and Barbellos 2004. 20. Interview with Colonel Ubiratan in charge of the Policing Special Areas Command (CPAE – Comando Policiamento Areas Specias), November 30. 2004. 21. Interview with Captain Peixoto, in charge of GPAE in the Pavão-PavãozinhoCantagalo favela, July 5, 2006. 22. Interview with State Secretary of Public Security Marcelo Itagiba, November 27, 2004. Interview with President of the Institute of Public Security Ana Paula Miranda, November 3, 2004. Interview with Delegado Walter Barros, then-coordinator of the Executive Group, November 12, 2004. 23. http://www.delegacialegal.rj.gov.br/. Interview with Maria Isabel Marmello, Representative of the Executive Group, December 8, 2004. 24. Interview with Delegado Walter Barros, then-coordinator of the Executive Group, November 12, 2004. 25. Interview with Delegado Walter Barros, creator of the Model Police Station Program and then-coordinator of the Executive Group, November 12, 2004. Interview with Delegado Gilberto da Cruz Ribeiro, then-delegado titular of the fifth DP, November 28, 2003. 26. The officers and chiefs at the twenty-first DP would often have to spring to action to respond to a call of distress in their jurisdiction that came over the civil police radio.

4 Post-War Violence and Police Reform in Guatemala Marie-Louise Glebbeek

PEACE ACCORDS THAT WERE SIGNED in 1996 and ended a civil war of thirty-six years prepared the ground for a new phase of reconstruction, democratization and social and institutional reform. One of these reforms included the abolition of existing police forces and the creation of a new National Civil Police (Policía Nacional Civil, PNC). The PNC was meant to give substance to a new way of policing in tune with the building of democratic governance and effective law enforcement. In 2007 the PNC existed ten years. What should have been a celebrating year was overshadowed by the murder of three El Salvadorian congressmen by police officers from the PNC. Only a few days later the arrested police officers were themselves murdered in a high security prison by a death squad who managed to enter the prison. As happened many times before, the Minister of Interior, his staff and the police command were dismissed. This ‘incident’ is illustrative of ten years of reform in which one scandal followed another and although each time high officials were fired, no real changes to the dysfunctional police force were made. Guatemala is still one the most violent countries in Central and Latin America. The signing of the peace agreement ended overt political violence but Guatemala now suffers from more general violence than during the armed conflict. Post-war Guatemala is plagued by new forms of violence caused by a variety of armed actors: former military and police members, former paramilitary and guerrilla forces and street gangs. Part of the current violence is new and rooted in the daily lives of Guatemalans, but some of it has its roots in the long-lasting civil war and the authoritarian regimes that terrorized and

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controlled the country. Ten years after the Peace Accords were signed, Guatemala has made little progress towards securing the protection of human rights and upholding the rule of law. Impunity remains the rule and Guatemala is one of the most violent countries in Central America and Latin America. While the peace agreement ended overt political violence, members of the new police force still use excessive force against suspected criminals and others.1 If not actually contributing to violence and insecurity, the PNC did not manage to regain its monopoly on violence to create order and peace. When authoritarian or military regimes evolve into more democratic and civil regimes, police forces should be part of this democratization process. This chapter will discuss the role of police forces in newly created democracies, using the Guatemalan case in illustration, and the ingredients that are necessary for a successful police reform. I will take a close look at police reform and its implementation, which has been hampered by a rise in crime and violence and the decisions President Arzú made to halt it. The Guatemalan police force (PNC) could not live up to the high expectations of the population it is supposed to protect. In response to the inability of the police to protect them against insecurity, the population took justice into their own hands by participating in lynchings and social cleansings of alleged criminals. Their anger at the PNC has further found expression in regular violent mob attacks on police stations, police cars and even police personnel. Increasingly citizens demanded that the PNC should adopt a tough policy in its fight against criminality. This placed the PNC in a difficult position having to live up to democratic policing and yet respond to the demands for tough policing (mano dura). All of these problems have had a serious impact on the efforts to reform and democratize the Guatemalan police. In this chapter I argue that the inability to reform and democratize the PNC can be traced back to its foundation. Due to decisions made during its implementation, such as upholding the (semi-military) organizational structure, incorporation of often corrupt elements of the old police institutions, and a shortage of training, the basis was laid for the current shortcomings of the PNC. The inability of the PNC to uphold the rule of law and to protect citizens has further flawed the image of the PNC.

Sowing the Seeds of Violence and Fear in Guatemala Among the Latin American countries that went through successive cycles of authoritarianism, conflict, violence and (re)democratization, Guatemala stands out for the long duration of its low-intensity civil war (surpassed only

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by the Colombian conflict), the number of civilian victims of repression, and the degree of tutelary powers preserved by the military throughout the protracted period of democratization and peace negotiations. During the armed conflict between the army and the insurgents, over 200,000 people were killed or have disappeared as a result of political violence. According to the Commission of Historical Clarification (CEH) set up under the Peace Accords, 93 percent of human rights violations were committed by government forces and related paramilitary groups (CEH 1999). During the conflict, the military institutions directed their institutional strength against all organized segments of society (social, political and cultural movements), thereby creating a hybrid civil-military political regime of violence and repression. Over the years a system of repression had developed towards civil society in which the use of terror and the dominance of fear became ‘normal’ (Delli Sante 1999; Kruijt 1999; Simon 1987). The Guatemalan National Police (Policía Nacional, PN) played a significant role in these violations. Although various influential actors had previously manipulated the police forces, they had always succeeded in retaining a certain level of autonomy. During the armed conflict this partial autonomy was lost when the army took control of the police forces. They used the police to carry out counterinsurgency operations that were carried out by all means imaginable: illegal detentions, threats, intimidation, torture, extra-judicial killing, and disappearances. Under military command the police forces formed death squads responsible for the disappearances and killings. The objective of these death squads was to eliminate alleged members, allies or collaborators of ‘subversive’ movements, using the help of civilians and lists prepared by military intelligence. Public security and military defense were in practice fused. The police forces were feared or despised, often both. In 1986 Guatemala returned to civilian government. This, however, did not end military tutelage in general or of military influence over police matters. The military continued to call upon the police force during the late 1980s and 1990s for counterinsurgency. Military commanders occupied high positions within the PN and blocked progressive changes or efforts to reform the police. Since 1986 several attempts have been made to reform the Guatemalan police. International support for these reforms came from the United States, Germany, Spain, Chili, Venezuela and others. Due to the lack of progress in these reforms, the military control within the police force and the continuation of the conflict between the armed forces and the guerrilla movement, cooperation was ended. (Delli Sante 1999; Garst 1995; Glebbeek 2003). At the same time, formal peace negations between the government and the URNG were begun under the first civilian government of Cerezo. The issue of security sector reform, however, came up only in the final stage of the peace

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process. It was not until September 1996 that an agreement on reform was reached.

The Peace Accords and Police Reform In December 1996, after thirty-six years of mostly authoritarian rule and bitter civil conflict, the Peace Accords were signed that ended this conflict. One of the agreements signed as part of these accords was the Agreement on the Strengthening of Civil Power and the Role of the Army in a Democratic Society (AFPC), which entailed the abolition of existing police forces and the creation of a new National Civil Police (Policía Nacional Civil, PNC).2 Prior to the Peace Accords, policing in Guatemala had often been violent, repressive, and subordinated to the counterinsurgency logic of the military. The PNC was meant to give substance to a new way of policing in concert with the building of democratic governance and effective law enforcement. Therefore, the AFPC separated military and police forces, making the police the only armed force responsible for internal security. The agreement stipulated that the police had to be better trained, better equipped and better paid. The agreement was also characterized by its lack of detail and profundity, which gave the Guatemalan government much leeway in designing the new PNC according to its own agenda. In the wake of the agreement the Arzú government (1996–2000) began to restructure and strengthen the Guatemalan police. The Guatemalan government made the European Union3 its major donor and the Spanish Civil Guards its single technical assistant, in order to avoid interference from too many international donors and civil society. By limiting the role of other actors the Guatemalan government remained in control of the police reform process. New police legislation was introduced and passed into law by the Congress in February 1997, without taking into account the content of the AFPC. The law failed to provide for clear recruitment and selection criteria and failed to establish internal control mechanisms or clear disciplinary regulations (Byrne et al. 2000: 21). According to the law, new recruits can enter the new police force only as agents or officers at the lowest level, which meant that, initially, all middle- and high-ranking officers in the PNC would be from the old PN. The Police Academy that was opened at the beginning of 1997 and to which the Peace Accords gave such an important role in professional recruitment, selection and training of the new PNC personnel, was only superficially mentioned in the law. In the first year of the PNC’s existence police salaries were doubled, precincts were opened throughout the country, special police units were created, and weapons, vehicles, and communications equip-

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ment were purchased. Two years later, at the end of July 1999, the PNC was deployed in all twenty-two departments of Guatemala, and by December 2001 it reached the 20,000 members envisioned in the AFPC. While some efforts to reform the police force were met rather quickly with strong government commitment and seemed successful and promising, over time problems arose that triggered quick government decisions laying the foundation for a flawed effort at police reform. Fighting Post-War Violence and Crime Soon after the signing of the Peace Accords it became clear that the Arzú government had severely underestimated the problems of violence and criminality. He had promised in his inauguration speech to solve the security problem in 180 days. As in many other ‘post-conflict’ countries, the period after the signing of the peace accord in December 1996 was characterized by an unprecedented rise in violence, criminality, and insecurity. Guatemala saw its most prominent political murder after the Peace Accords (the assassination of Msgr. Gerardi in 1998) and many habits and behaviors acquired during thrity-six years of war re-emerged in their aftermath. The Peace Accords ended overt political violence but since then Guatemala has known more general violence than during the armed conflict (McIlwaine and Moser 2001: 13). As a consequence of the civil war and longstanding social and political divisions, resulting in poverty and exclusion, a culture of violence has developed in Guatemala which has increased mistrust and a lack of mutual respect (CEH 1999). According to Ardón (1999: 36), society established many defense mechanisms that fed the culture of terror, which in turn “closed off all outlets for frustration, or opportunities to develop consensus-based proposals for change.” Disrespect for law and social order has fostered this ‘culture of violence’ and has rewarded the use of force, illegally obtained money, criminal practices, arbitrariness, and contempt for solidarity. At the same time there are good reasons to assume that it is a subculture that provokes ‘private justice,’ to solve personal problems; people have little faith in state justice because they know injustices will remain unpunished (Huggins 1991: Torres-Rivas and de León 1999). Data on the level of crime are scarce, variable, and not always reliable.4 One only has to read the daily newspaper, listen to the radio, watch the news, or to talk with citizens, however, to become aware of Guatemala’s serious challenge to deal adequately with crime and violence. Much of the current crime, such as robberies, extortion, kidnappings, assassinations, and narco-traffic, is ascribed to youth gangs or maras.5 In 2005, according to data from the PNC,

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there existed 402 different youth gangs, which had approximately 13,450 members, 95 percent of them male (Cruz 2006). Most of today’s extra-judicial executions are believed to be part of some social cleansing plan by organized criminal groups, including maras, illegal armed security brigade or death squads, and also include governmental security forces. Much of the Guatemalan population approves the practice of social cleansing. In an effort to respond quickly to the serious security problem in Guatemala, the government took some shortcuts. Rapid deployment of the PNC personnel became one of the main objectives of the Arzú government. The first and most important decision made by Arzú was incorporating the old police personnel into the new PNC. Although this enabled the PNC to grow quickly, it ended up being formed largely by agents and officers from forces infamous for their corruption, abuse and incompetence. The government also reduced the retraining course at the Academy from six to three months, to be able to deploy the new police force as quickly as possible. As a result of the PNC focus on quantity, not on quality, selection criteria were lowered and there was an absence of screening procedures (Garst 1999; Glebbeek 2001). Arzú also responded to the crime wave by bringing the army back into internal security. Despite the agreement to end the role of the military in internal security, the Guatemalan armed forces continued to perform interim policing functions while the PNC was being formed and continued after its deployment. In March 1996 joint police-military patrols were authorized which, despite their temporary status, are still in use today. The government’s commitment to the AFPC and the overall police reform was ambivalent. On the one hand, its commitments to creating a new Police Academy and new police law and regulations, the doubling of salaries, the creation of precincts throughout the country, and the expansion of PNC personnel were met rather quickly. On the other hand, decisions were made that violated the AFPC, such as the adoption of a militarized policing model, military assistance in police functions, and the incorporation of former police personnel into the new force. Although these decisions might have facilitated the implementation of the reform, albeit controversial, the government jeopardized the long-term quality, efficacy and professionalism of the police as shown in the following section on the outcome of the police reform.

The Outcome of the Guatemalan Police Reform To enforce the rule of law and protect citizens against crime and violence Guatemala’s post-war police had to be brought in line with the values underpinning democratic policing. In order to achieve this and act in accordance

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with the democratic ideals of (post-war) democratic societies, police forces should rely on democratic policing strategies rather than on repression and violence to enforce law and order. Democratic policing in this sense is characterized by respect for the rule of law and human rights; a civil, demilitarized force; a focus on service to the public; and is accountable and transparent.6 The implementation and outcome of the Guatemalan police reform has been problematic in terms of achieving the democratic ideal in five ‘technical’ areas: structure and doctrine, composition, training, accountability and resources. In the first place, no really new structure or doctrine was incorporated. Structure and Doctrine The police legislation of February 1997, apparently guiding the PNC more than the Agreement on the Strengthening of Civil Power (AFPC), did not provide it with either a new doctrine or a clear organizational structure. Although an organizational structure (vertical and highly hierarchical) was laid down in later regulations, no new doctrine has ever replaced the old one. The PNC has remained highly centralized and mainly concerned with law enforcement rather then the protection of citizens. Because of the centralized system, all strategies and policies are formulated in the capital, preventing their adaptation and relevance to local situations. In this process there is little room for initiatives by local personnel. Although civil in name, the PNC maintains several military characteristics, such as a strict hierarchy, a top-down command chain with emphasis on obedience, loyalty and discipline, and the barracks-style way of life for its personnel. The military hierarchy divided the police force into superiors and subordinates. Hierarchical relations continued to be highly authoritarian; orders coming from above are required to be followed unconditionally. There was little room for the lower ranks to make any decisions, since most actions are expected to be undertaken as a direct result of specific orders. Policing, however, by its very nature frequently demands rapid and immediate action, with no time to wait for specific orders. This puts subordinates in a difficult position. Instead of taking action, they often choose not to act. The highly hierarchical structure of the Guatemalan police has also proven vulnerable to internal abuse of authority. In the confined, barracks-style, working space, where personnel work in shifts of eight hours (eight hours working, eight hours resting, and eight hours on stand-by, for eleven days at a stretch without permission to leave the police station), the lower ranks are often exploited by their superiors, who give them more work and less spare time, occasionally forcing them to participate in irregular practices.

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Many of the appointed senior officers within the PNC were old guard officers from the former National Police (PN) or the Guardia de Hacienda (GH), and some were clearly not committed to the new police reform. Their resistance to change has been reflected in the exploitation of their subordinates, in particular, new recruits considered by the public to be better trained and more honest. Composition The composition of personnel is also an important component of democratic police reform. From a democratic point of view, the police should reflect the composition of the society they serve. In Guatemala this means that the PNC should reproduce the country’s multiethnic, multicultural and multilinguistic character. However, only 14 percent of PNC members were indigenous in 2001, even though some 40 percent of the total population is indigenous. There are several explanations for this imbalance. Policing is still an unpopular and controversial profession in many indigenous communities, which were the hardest hit during the internal conflict. The National Clarification Commission (CEH) speaks of acts of genocide against the indigenous population; and over 90 percent of all human rights violations were attributed to state agents. Another reason for the limited inclusion of indigenous people in the PNC was the nature of the selection procedures, which often discriminated against indigenous participants. Height criteria, for instance, resulted in excluding indigenous people, who tend to be shorter. Selection procedures, especially the necessary medical exams, were expensive and also excluded a large part of the indigenous population, who are hardest hit by poverty in Guatemala (Glebbeek 2001: 448). There is, however, some doubt concerning the actual number of indigenous police personnel: the statistics are based on auto-identification within the police. There is likely to be some underreporting of one’s cultural identity. In an institution where people are frequently treated unequally, abusively or discriminated against, one seldom discloses cultural background. If all bilingual police personnel were counted, a somewhat higher percentage of police personnel with an indigenous background are actually incorporated within the PNC. Composition is also an issue in terms of the inclusion of former members of the National Police, who could virtually all enter the PNC. Selection criteria hardly existed concerning members of the old forces. There was no screening in terms of former human rights abuses nor any other way. After passing an entry exam, PN and GH personnel could participate in a three-month training at the Academy and enter the PNC. Personnel with records of crimes, human rights violations, and corruption were thus allowed to enter the PNC, with only occasional small-scale purges taking place, mostly prior to the 1996

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Peace Accords, when Arzú fired 118 members of PN and GH. Only candidates who were clearly illiterate were refused entry into the PNC, with some, nevertheless, managing to bribe their way in. While educational requirements were raised over the years, selection days were chaotic, and consequently many people entered the course who did not meet the requirements. In short, due to the haste of its deployment, the PNC focused on quantity, not on quality, recruiting many poorly qualified officers. In the end this approach backfired on the institution’s image and credibility. Training One of the few goals of the AFPC that was adopted by the PNC was a new focus on training. Police training is essential when creating a new police force. The Guatemalan government underlined this importance by making a big effort to construct rather quickly a new academy building to accommodate the large numbers of students. However, the government took major shortcuts also in this area. In order for the new police force to be deployed as quickly as possible, the government reduced the retraining course of the former police personnel (PN and GH) at the Academy from six to three months, arguing that former police personnel were already trained and experienced. However, very few had previously received training, as this was not a prerequisite for entering the former forces, and their work experience was only partially useful in the post–civil war era. The United Nations Verification Mission in Guatemala (MINUGUA) and other national and international organizations opposed these short training courses, arguing that three months was too little time to instill a new doctrine and police culture and to weed out inappropriate, undemocratic police practices. This argument was ignored, however. With the exception of the classes given by civilians, the whole Academy was organized along militaristic lines. Military discipline was enforced in virtually every activity of the Police Academy. At the Academy the recruits were taught unconditional obedience and loyalty to their superiors, and to follow their orders ‘without protest or hesitation,’ in short, militaristic values not in line with the principles of democratic policing. Accountability Accountability is another important issue connected to Guatemalan police reform. The creation of internal and external oversight mechanisms which punish corrupt and abusive members of the PNC and end impunity, could in principle entice personnel to obey the law and respect human rights. However, the complicated nature of the internal disciplinary regulations of the

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PNC restrained senior officers from taking action against personnel accused of infractions. The introduction of police accountability in practice was also complicated by the fact that the ORP (the internal investigation unit) was understaffed, by mostly old-guard police officers, who were poorly trained and showed little willingness to investigate colleagues. External control has remained practically non-existent. The heavy caseload of prosecutors of the Public Ministry, responsible for the prosecution of accused PNC personnel, has prevented many cases reaching the courts. The PNC is accountable to the government, the parliament, and the public, but still lacks transparency in its operations, demonstrating little accountability in reality. Efforts of civil society organizations and local human rights groups to influence the PNC have remained weak and ineffective. Resources A requirement for successful police reform also is the availability of sufficient resources, such as equipment and budgetary resources. Although the PNC initially received new equipment, such as cars, uniforms, and weapons, in just a few years, it suffered from significant budgetary constraints. From its inception, many police stations lacked the most basic equipment, but even those district police stations that were renovated after the Peace Accords were deteriorating quickly. Although the government has been raising the budget for internal security since 1996 and the PNC has been receiving new equipment from abroad, the PNC has remained poorly equipped: patrol cars are not functioning, telephone lines are cut off due to unpaid bills, and precincts lack the money to provide their few functional cars with gasoline. Although the government has raised the budget for internal security since 1996, more money is needed. In 2002, the government carried out important budgetary cuts, making the situation worse. This was compounded by the fact that in the same year the European Union assistance program that was set up in 1998 and was to last four years officially expired. In short, the reforms have been marred by the PNC serious, and worsening, budgetary limitations. This has demoralized its personnel and damaged the credibility of the institution, as illustrated by newspapers already carrying headlines like: ‘Rescuing the Police Reform,’ in 2000 when the Portillo Presidency took office (Byrne et al. 2000).

Police-Citizens Relations An important goal of the overall police reform was to improve the policecommunity relationship. The centralized structure of policing, however, has

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been a major impediment to the establishment of a constructive relationship with the population. Local police commanders have had little influence on centrally designed policies and strategies, which were nevertheless implemented throughout the country. In consequence, few strategies were developed that actually responded to the needs of the local population. The highly hierarchical police structure focusing on hierarchical control, discipline, subordination and obedience, eliminated any potential initiative of local commanders or the rank-and-file. As a consequence citizens were unhappy with the service provided by the police, and increasingly considered the PNC ineffective and poorly prepared. Local police personnel were discouraged and demoralized by their lack of influence on policies and strategies to deal with local problems. Well-intended, but poorly worked out, local initiatives on the part of the rank-and-file often met with severe disciplinary measures, while some irregularities committed by senior officers remained largely unpunished. The net effect of such disciplinary sanctions, in combination with the response of disgruntled and sometimes violent citizens and the often extremely violent crimes, was to make police personnel unresponsive or late in responding. The police took action when the need had passed and tranquility had already returned. Furthermore, centralized policing degraded the already poor infrastructure and conditions at the local police offices. Police personnel often lacked gasoline, working cars and phone lines, which further impaired their responsiveness to the population. While police stations in the capital are often equipped with computers, in more remote police stations (read: outside the capital), personnel often share one old typewriter, use large quantities of carbon paper or visit local copy shops frequently (paying the copies out of their own pocket), and share their telephone line with the rest of the community. The Guatemalan government and the PNC, nevertheless, took some specific measures to improve police-community relations. Under President Arzu local security councils ( juntas) were created to encourage citizens’ participation in the reform process. In these juntas the police met with community representatives to talk about local security concerns and its solutions. Citizens themselves formed neighborhood watch groups, which were not initiated by the PNC but did receive PNC support. However, national and international human rights organizations and civil society organizations have viewed both the juntas and the neighborhood watch groups with suspicion. The juntas and, in particular, the neighborhood watches were considered to resemble the civil patrols (Patrullas Autodefensa Civil, PAC), created by the military during the civil war and abolished with the signing of the Peace Accords. These civil patrols had been the eyes and ears of the military during the war and were

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responsible for many atrocities. It was also feared that these organizations would form new local power blocs. While the government considered the juntas successful in some areas, in other areas the population strongly objected and hindered their creation. In January 1998 a community policing pilot program was installed in one of the most violent municipalities of de Department Guatemala, Villa Nueva. The project was part of the Citizens Security in Central America project, carried out by the Inter-American Human Rights Institute (IIDH), in Belize, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, and El Salvador. In general the goal was to use new police models, community policing and problem-solving policing that would offer sustainable solutions for the crime and insecurity problem (Frühling and Cancina 2005: 18). The project ended in June 2000. One specific goal was to create a citizens’ security council that would hold periodic meetings between the police and the community. While there were many civil society initiatives in other areas, with regard to citizens’ security they were scarce. As a result of the civil war, people are still cautious, and in some cases reluctant to organize themselves, especially in security issues. The community policing project claimed some positive effects, such as a fall in the victimization rate and a reduction in the feeling of insecurity. The number of people who thought that the police always or almost always breached human rights, however, went up, there was a decline in trust in the police and more people considered the service the police provided inadequate (Frühling and Cancina 2005: 29). According to Skogan (2006: 100) bad experiences deeply influences people’s view of police performance and even legitimacy, while the police may not get the credit due for positive encounters. The impact of ten positive encounters are annulled with just one negative encounter. The community project was not successful, due to its isolation; it was strongly supported by international organizations, but without real institutional or even civil society commitment. During the subsequent Portillo Presidency (2000–2004) few efforts were made to strengthen the police-community relationship. Since some security councils had been discredited due to human rights violations, the Portillo government did not support the creation of more juntas. Under Berger (2004–2008), however, a vice-ministry of citizens’ support (Vice-Ministerio de Apoyo a la Ciudadana) was created in the Ministry of Interior to improve citizen and police relations. The reform-minded vice-minister of Citizens’ Support reinforced the juntas and also tried to implement a strategy of community policing. Implementation of these community policing strategies were hindered by calls for tougher and more deterrent security policies and punishment by citizens.

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Initial public sympathy for the PNC gradually made way for feelings of anger and disappointment. Citizens felt that their local police were unresponsive to their demands and local problems, and did little to provide them with the service they expected. Sharp geographical, social, economic and cultural divisions complicated policing, especially since police policies were centrally designed and did not accommodate such differences. The net effect of such a state of affairs was to discourage and demoralize the PNC, with many of the former police personnel relapsing into corruption and human rights violations. The inability of the PNC to offer protection against insecurity, violence and criminality has propelled citizens into taking the law into their own hands. The United Nations Verification Commission for Guatemala (MINUGUA) reported that between 1996 and 2002, 482 lynchings occurred in which 240 people were killed and 943 injured. In these lynchings angry crowds and increasingly vigilante groups dealt with alleged criminals themselves by punishing or killing them. Regular violent mob attacks on police stations, police cars or even police personnel has also illustrated the public anger and frustration felt towards the PNC itself. Since the reforms introduced in 1996, public demands have grown for the PNC to adopt a tougher policy in its fight against criminality. Preparing for the elections of 2007 huge billboards could be found in and around the city that show a group of heavily tattooed youths (gang members) with General Otto Perez Molina in front with the text: it is enough, “mano dura”. A taxi driver in Guatemala City, venting an opinion of many Guatemalans, told me that the police are not tough enough on crime. He claimed that they run away when a crime occurs, afraid they will be killed. Just as many others told me, in his opinion criminals breaking the law should be shot. At present citizens are worried more about the PNC personnel’s acts of corruption than about their committing human rights violations, the victims of which are regarded as criminals who deserved to be punished. In contrast corruption is regarded as victimizing the entire population. The PNC has not been entirely unresponsive to these complaints, as PNC officers have been involved in extra-judicial execution and torture and have participated in socalled social cleansings operations.7

Enhancing Policing Reform As the main state agency upholding the rule of law and providing stability and security the police are a central state institution to ensure the democratic

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consolidation. Failure by state institutions to provide public security can lead to violence and lawlessness in response, not only on the part of the public but also the police. Many post-authoritarian police forces in Latin America proved incapable of serving in democracies, because of a legacy of violence, corruption, poor preparation and equipment. This prompted major reform initiatives in some countries, but not in others. In Guatemala the December 1996 Peace Accords prepared the ground for a major police reform that was meant to create new ways of policing in line with building democratic governance and effective law enforcement. While the former police force had not been able to provide public security as we have seen, after ten years of reform the new National Civil Police (PNC) also fails to offer this protection. Faced with rising crime, political scandals, a weak judiciary, mass riots, and the interference of the military, the Guatemalan police have manifestly failed to offer basic standards of protection of its citizenry. Transitions to democracy require stability and order but transition periods are in fact often characterized by violence, rising crime and disorder (cf Briceño-Leon 2002; Koonings and Kruijt 2004, 2007). Post-authoritarian governments often stress the importance of internal security in their election campaigns, and police reform has been frequently initiated to protect or (re)gain order and stability, to diminish threats to the established democracy and to gain legitimacy for democracy and the government. Police forces in these newly established democracies had to learn how to enforce law and order by democratic means and to find alternatives to violent, repressive and authoritarian law enforcement. Police reforms seek to achieve a democratic police force, characterized by respect for the rule of law, demilitarization, participation and representation of the population, public responsiveness, accountability, legitimacy, and transparency. Important ingredients for successful democratic police reform include changes in structure and doctrine, from militarised to civilian, from abusive to respectful, from focusing on state interest to focusing on citizens’ interests. Hierarchical personnel and command structures should become more horizontal, and should include improved communication between the ranks while making room for the initiatives of subordinate personnel. Decentralized policing systems should replace the current highly centralized police system, so that policies and strategies can be better adapted to local situations. Internal and external independent oversight mechanisms should be created to enforce accountability. Both citizens and police personnel should be protected if they file complaints against police personnel. The new police force should reflect the composition of society. In a multicultural or multiethnic society it should encourage the participation of individuals from all ethnic or cultural backgrounds. Former police personnel, when entering a new police force,

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should be screened carefully to prevent incorporating abusive and criminal personnel into the new police force. Training should be an important focus of police reform. Training improves the quality of the overall police institutions and can imbue police personnel with respect for the rule of law. Finally, a police force in the process of reform should be well equipped, so that, with all the constraints it encounters in its operations, it can at least rely on its equipment. Government commitment to the Guatemalan police reform and the change to a more democratic direction was ambivalent. It soon met its commitment to create a new police academy, a new police law (which was later supplemented by several regulations), and to expand and deploy the PNC personnel quickly. The government, however, made decisions that, in one way or the other, violated the 1996 Peace Accord and the democratic values underpinning it. To deal with rising crime and to meet the increasing demands of the population, the government incorporated the old force into the new, involved the military, and speeded up training and deployment, hoping these measures would produce quick results. However, in doing so the government impaired the quality, efficacy and professionalism of the PNC over the long-term. As a consequence of this post–civil war violence and rising crime, new and often conflicting demands are made on police forces. On one hand, police forces are pushed increasingly towards legality, accountability, and respect for human rights. In one sense, the police force is expected to focus exclusively upon tasks related to law enforcement and the protection of rights. On the other hand, however, rising crime and increasing public fear of crime often demands from police forces more authoritarian and repressive tactics to fight crime. In Guatemala crime stimulated drastic, violent, and illegal responses by both the police and the public. This response frequently resulted in vigilante squads, repressive policing, extra-judicial killings, social cleansings and lynchings. In these post-conflict settings it is not only the police who need to respect the rule of law and human and citizen rights, but also the citizens themselves. Where the rule of law is weak, it is difficult for individuals to sanction their own behavior and that of others, revealing the ‘dark side’ of civil society (Armony: 2004). In short, when civil society is not supported by the rule of law, its democratic potential is limited (Armony: 2004). After ten years of police reform some progress has been made and cosmetic changes are visible. The Guatemalan police in 2007, however, still bear many similarities to the force of 1997. The failure of the PNC can be traced back to its foundation and the first years of its implementation. Little or no effort has been made to introduce significant changes to the institution: organizational structure, doctrine, vision, policy, culture, and attitude. Those are areas where future reforms of the PNC should begin. The police can receive better salaries, better equipment and training, but only when profound changes within the

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PNC culture take place (taking into account the Guatemalan context and its possibilities), and when the institution has skilled, reform- and open-minded leaders (in all layers) working in close cooperation with young, enthusiastic and honest rank-and-file, only then will the self-esteem, professionalism, efficacy, and quality make a worthwhile leap forward.

Notes 1. Human Rights Overview Guatemala, Human Rights Watch, 2006 (www.hrw.org, dd. April 14, 2007). 2. For an extensive analysis of the Guatemalan police reform and its outcome until its end in 2002, see Glebbeek 2003. 3. The EU would provide approximately US$32 million between 1998 and 2003 for training, administration, vehicles, and the construction and rehabilitation of Academy and police installations. 4. The Inter-American Development Bank stated in May 2006 that “the annual homicide rate, as measured by the number of homicides for every 100,000 inhabitants per year, rose by one third between 1996 and 2005, to a level of 36.6. In metropolitan Guatemala City, which is home to 15 percent of the country’s population, the rate stood at 103 in 2005.” This data is, however, based on information provided by the PNC, and its reliability must therefore been questioned. 5. The term ‘mara’ was first used by the National Police and later on adopted by the Guatemalan press. It refers to the Brazilian movie Marabunta from the 70s in which youth groups acted similar as the youth gangs found in Guatemala (Cruz 2006: 163, footnote 9). 6. Cf. Bayley 1996, 1997, 2001; Bailey and Dammert 2006; Call 1999; Chan 1999; Chevigny 1999; Frühling 2003; Hinton 2006; Kádár 2001; Mani 2000; Marenin 1996; Rico and Salas 1988. 7. Literally ‘cleaning’ society by killing presumed criminals, gang members or other people accused from some wrongdoing, committed by illegal anti-crime squads often including police personnel. In 2005 almost 3,000 people were killed or believed to be killed by these groups, murdered through methods used by these groups (Washington Post, February 24, 2006).

5 International Police Assistance in Jamaica under Escalated Violence and Institutionalized Non-Integrity Niels Uildriks1

N DECEMBER 2005 A JURY VERDICT WAS rendered on the indictment in which three of six initially charged police officers were accused of the murder of four people in 2003, including two women. Both women were killed in a small room, one discovered lying on a bed, the other under it. According to the implicated police, these killings had occurred as a result of a shoot-out between police and the four persons killed. After reviewing the evidence presented, the Director of Public Prosecution (DPP) concluded that one of the victims was killed after the police had control of the scene and after a witness had been taken outside. A firearm had been planted, corroborated by cell-side analysis of evidence provided by a witness. Furthermore forensic evidence refuted suggestions by the defence that the persons were shot in the driveway rather than inside the house. This evidence showed that gunshot residue on the deceased persons was consistent with the shootings having taken place in the room, not more than three meters away from the victims. Finally, the DPP concluded, evidence indicated that gunshot wounds sustained by the deceased persons were inconsistent with being shot in a shoot-out and that they were shot in a controlled manner. The Kraal trial, as this case is referred to, was in many ways a litmus test for Jamaican justice. Only on the rarest of occasions does the DPP actually prosecute police for murder when police are involved in killings classified as shoot-outs. On this occasion it was the second big trial that year, following the trial of six officers from the now abandoned Crime Management Unit (CMU), the same unit implicated in the Kraal case for the killings of seven youths in 2001. Those deaths also had the hallmarks of execution-style killings

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after the youths had surrendered to the police (according to residents begging for their lives before they were shot). If ever there should have been a conviction in view of the evidence available it was in the Kraal case. Scotland Yard was in charge of the investigation and had provided ample forensic evidence. The DPP undoubtedly had a strong case, yet commentators in Jamaican newspapers predicted in advance that the jury would acquit the accused officers, including senior superintendent Reneto Adams, a reputed hard-nosed officer and former head of the CMU. These predictions were proved to be right. On December 21, 2005, after the six officers had been charged and brought to trial, the jury rendered not guilty verdicts of the murder charges against Adams and two remaining co-defendants. The verdicts met with ecstatic scenes of jubilation among the crowd present. People shouted that criminals had better start packing and Adams sent out a similar message in the midst of a crowd, with people trying to touch and even hug him. In short, a man that few people in Jamaica doubt was in charge of the illegal killing of the four people in Kraal and considered responsible for the killing and summary execution of a substantial number of other people, became for many Jamaicans a local hero. Jamaica is a country that in 2004 and 2005 found itself in a spiral of violence, beginning from a level already considered unsustainable and that put the (economic) future of the country seriously at risk. Jamaica has been for a long time a country policed by a force constituting as much part of the problem as a possible solution to such violence. In this chapter I will look at the role of international police assistance under these very difficult circumstances. What can reasonably be done in a situation where violence has reached dramatic levels and where its police force is seriously corrupt as well as responsible for a large number of killings on the island itself? A crucial question is: what lessons can be learned from the international assistance provided so far?

The Jamaican Spiraling Cycle of Violence Within two years the number of homicides in Jamaica had spiraled from 1.145 in 2004 to 1.674 in 2005.2 On a population of some 2.7 million this means a murder rate of 63 per 100,000 people. An important qualification to be made in this respect is that the problem of social and criminal violence is not evenly distributed over the island, but is concentrated in 4 or 5 percent of the territory. This means there is a great variance between areas where killings and other serious violence are part of the daily experience and rural areas where violence occurs infrequently.

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Jamaica’s homicide rate for 2005 signified a near doubling of the level (varying between 800 and 900) in the years before. In a population of some 2.7 million, the latter numbers already gave Jamaica the third-highest homicide rate in the world (United Nations 1998–2000). Nature and Causes of the Violence Jamaican violence has its roots in a mixture of social factors and the characteristics of Jamaican politics, and historically it also relates to the particularly brutal history of slavery on the island. Different reports have identified a variety of factors contributing to the country’s structurally high level of violence, but the beginning of its drift into violence lies in the 1970s. Initiated by the Jamaican Labour Party (JLP), factions of the main political parties began to arm gangs to intimidate opponents ahead of the 1980 general elections, with 800 people being killed as a result of election-related violence that year. Most reports that have investigated the causes of the high violence levels highlight a number of social factors: a destabilized family structure; a decline in values and attitudes across society; urban drift; economic instability (including high unemployment); inequality in income distribution; a drug culture; high level of illiteracy; political tribalism; the emergence of non-traditional/parallel leadership within communities; ineffectual, citizen-unfriendly policing; negative perceptions of access to security and justice (particularly in poor communities); ineffective channels of communication between the community and the police; high availability of firearms and other weapons; lack of community empowerment and ability to address/ameliorate problems before they escalate; weak financial status of civil society organizations, limiting pre-emptive and response capability (Jones 2003). Already in 2002 the National Committee on Crime and Violence considered the level of crime and violence to reflect a breakdown in social, cultural and economic relations. It attributed this breakdown to a centralization of authority leaving communities disempowered, to police excesses, and also to political tribalism and the partly related emergence of informal leaderships (dons), all of which undermined traditional leadership in community institutions (National Committee on Crime and Violence 2002). Violence is not equally distributed across the island, but is concentrated especially in specific areas in Kingston and Spanish Town, where there is an ongoing turf-war between gangs for the control of some cities, sometimes resulting in an orgy of gang-violence. Most of the violence takes place in a geographic area of 4 or 5 percent of the island, seriously affecting some 250,000 people. (Most rural areas in Jamaica are as safe as most of rural Britain.)

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The upsurge of violence in 2004 and 2005 can be largely attributed to heavily armed gangs fighting a bloody battle for control of extortion rings, resulting in a spiral of revenge killings.3 A Failed State? Do the levels of violence and the inability of the authorities to control it make Jamaica a failed state? Jamaica is clearly not (as yet) a failed state to the same extent as a country like Haiti. There still exists a substantive although fledgling middle class, a relatively strong civil society, a powerful media presence and open public debate on all of the island’s social woes. Importantly, the integrity of the judiciary has not yet been cast in serious doubt, in spite of its strongly criticized handling of cases on occasion, especially for inadequately directing the juries. Jamaica could, however, be regarded as turning into a failed state because police and other state institutions have been unable to prevent the upsurge of violence, and the fact that most killings—gang-related and otherwise—have gone unresolved. State control has manifestly broken down, with informal leadership dominating certain areas of the island. The level of violence is so great that even if the Jamaican police were a professional and dedicated police force, a thorough police investigation into the 1,674 homicides of 2005 would be logistically impossible, primarily because Jamaica’s Constabulary Force (JCF) has a small and poorly equipped forensic department.4 The sheer numbers involved make it impossible for either the police or wider criminal justice system to respond to the vast majority of cases in terms of a thorough investigation and subsequent prosecution. In short, at least in as far as the functioning of the criminal justice system is concerned, Jamaica had by 2005 become perilously close to the status of a failed state; the principles of the rule of law (including the principle of the state’s monopoly on the legitimate use of force) perhaps apply in theory, but are in practice ignored. Jamaica is beyond doubt a fragile state. The lack of police and state legitimacy is deeply rooted, illustrated for instance by the fact that in 2005 one of the Jamaican gang leaders openly threatened to have a hundred police killed in retaliation to a shoot-out (involving police) in which his brother was killed; a threat that failed to draw any response on the part of the authorities. Apparently connected to this threat, three police officers were subsequently killed, as were two doctors in the hospital, who were probably targeted because the hospital failed to save his brother’s life. The overall lack of state legitimacy is apparent in people’s lack of faith in the response to killings by the police or the criminal justice system. In 2004 the chairman of Families against

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State Terrorism believed that as many as a third of all murders were reprisal killings.5 For many people killing someone had become normal, that is to say a response considered acceptable under a variety of circumstances. This was manifest in the degree to which extra-judicial killings of those associated with Jamaica’s violent criminal gangs were tacitly approved of, or at least not condemned. It was also reflected in the rise in popularity of Reneto Adams and the jubilation following his release during the Kraal trial. Institutional Non-integrity Jamaica has another ominous hallmark characteristic of a failed state, namely, its pervasive institutionalized non-integrity in the political and state institutional sphere. The complicity of politicians with organized crime organizations and the protection of gunmen within their constituencies has been the subject of considerable attention and notoriety for decades, but there are few signs that there has been any improvement. The integrity of the DPP is highly questionable. In the Breaton case in which CMU officers were found not guilty of criminal responsibility for the killing of seven youths in 2001 the DPP poorly presented its case for all to see. During the Kraal case the prosecutor initially in charge, and determined to present as strong a case as he could, was taken off the case and transferred elsewhere, leaving the DPP to present a deliberately weakened case. In retrospect Adams was never really at risk of conviction because of the protection he received from the ruling PNP, having carried out his hard-nosed campaign on its instruction. Not only did he receive $20 million (Jamaican) from the PNP to finance his defense team, but the Chief Justice in charge of the case, under strong political pressure, gave the jury instructions on rules of evidence that were biased in favor of Adams. The lack of police integrity is pervasive and institutionalized. Corruption permeates policing at all levels, as do other forms of non-integrity. Police engage in corrupt activities to ensure either acquittals or convictions. Efforts to ensure acquittals typically involve planting or linking real or contrived evidence to suspects (especially in drug cases), suborning or intimidating witnesses, and in a few cases even eliminating them (usually where police personnel with a violent history are on trial for capital offences) (Harriott 2000: 54). Occasionally there are incidents of police-police shoot-outs, and the author of this article is aware of at least two cases in which there are indications that the killing of the officers concerned was an inside (police) job. The extent to which police are also responsible for disappearances is unknown: early 2005, in a much publicized case, two officers were charged after the disappearance of two men they allegedly arrested. There is little doubt that the police are deeply involved in the protection of construction rackets and in

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affiliation with different gangs and factions, as also with different political parties. The aforementioned Reneto Adams, for example, has been affiliated with the Peoples National Party (PNP) and support for his methods is in part dependent on peoples’ political allegiances.6 Police are also deeply implicated in the drug trade, to the extent that Friday is known as cheese day, the day that police pick up drug money from various quarters. Involvement in the drug business is rife even on the highest levels, as recently publicly acknowledged by Jamaica’s new Commissioner, appointed in 2005. In fact, one insider estimated that perhaps 80 percent of police management are involved in the drug business in one form or other: over the past ten years Jamaica has increasingly come under the influence of the narco business and gangs. Spiraling Violence and Killings by Police Police in recent years are on average responsible for around 10 percent of all known killings in Jamaica (during the early 1980s about a third, with 1984 seeing an all time high of 358 police killings).7 These killings are typically characterized as shoot-outs. No one doubts, however, that a substantial number involve summary executions, either planned or unplanned, following capture after a shoot-out. In 2003, the Jamaican government invited a team of detectives from London’s New Scotland Yard to look into the deaths of thirty suspected drug dealers. In early 2004 it concluded that many had been the victims of a shoot-to-kill policy. In 2005 there were no less than 168 fatal police shootings, 60 more than in 2004, and the highest number in fourteen years. The high number of police killings is not necessarily characteristic of a failed state, and could equally be a manifestation of unchecked authoritarian rule. With a firm democratic tradition—albeit of its own particular Caribbean brand—in Jamaica it is, however, hardly a sign of authoritarian rule. Instead these killings are a clear embarrassment to the current security minister, under whose authority the police fall, and reflect his lack of control over the police. Drawing upon Norbert Elias’ theory of civilization, in his comparison of police violence in North and Latin America, Chevigny argues that the less social revulsion there is towards brutal and public violence the more police violence and personal vigilantism increases (Chevigny 1995; Elias 1982). Thus the more violence present in society, the more likely that police will employ violent police tactics. Thus, the doubling of the number of homicides within a two-year period in Jamaica has further increased the already widespread popular support for the kind of violent police tactics epitomized by Reneto Adams. A columnist of one of the more respected and influential Jamaican

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newspapers, came out in favor of the release of Adams irrespective of the evidence pointing to his guilt: “It seems contradictory of me to say this, but were I a member of the jury, even knowing what I believe to be the truth, I would have voted for acquittal simply because I would be comparing the sum total of Adams with what I believe to be the sum total [of those killed].”8 Large segments of the Jamaican population now consider police brutality and killings justified in the light of the violence certain areas endure, and those who dare criticize such practices are bleeding hearts who dare not face realities on this point: violence can only effectively be dealt with by brute police force and if in the process a few (innocent) skulls will get broken, so be it. Police are indeed, de facto, assured near total impunity, and the impact of an external control mechanism like the Police Public Complaints Authority which receives and investigates complaints against the police is marginal at best.9 International police assistance over the past years has taken place in the context of spiralling social and state violence combined with deeply rooted institutionalized non-integrity. The exploration in this article of what international police assistance hopes to achieve under such circumstances involves both an assessment of some past experiences as well as a general exploration of the possibilities for success and failure that international assistance in different areas can be expected to have.

International Police Assistance to Jamaica Foreign Assistance and Police Human Rights Violations Assistance to either regimes or police forces with a dubious human rights record is inevitably problematic. In the light of the controversial U.S. involvement in different Latin American countries during the 1960s and 1970s, an amendment to the U.S. Foreign Assistance Act (1961), Section 502B (enacted in 1974 and strengthened in 1976) prohibited the blocking of security assistance to governments that engage “in a pattern of gross violations of internationally recognized human rights.” Congress may terminate security assistance to that country by approving a joint resolution, after having requested a State Department report on the human rights situation in a given country. If the president deems that “extraordinary circumstances” exist, section 502B permits certain types of assistance to police, domestic intelligence, or similar law-enforcement forces. Included as a provision to the 1997 Foreign Operations Act (FAA) under Section 564, the so-called Leahy Amendment prohibits U.S. assistance to a unit of a foreign security force (which includes the police) if there is credible

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evidence that the unit’s members have committed gross violations of human rights and effective measures are not being taken to bring the responsible members of the unit to justice. The Leahy Amendment now covers all security assistance programs funded by Foreign Operations Appropriations Act and training programs funded by the Defense Department Appropriations Act. More specifically connected to the police, the United States Congress in 1973 voted to end all police training conducted abroad, followed in 1974 by the passing of Section 660 of the FAA. This terminated the Office of Public Safety (OPS) which had been involved in training forces and units implicated in human rights abuses, and generally prohibited funding to provide training, advice or financial support to law enforcement agencies of foreign governments, but only in so far as these concerned activities funded through the annual foreign assistance budget passed by Congress (Neild 2005: 65). Section 660 has, however, never applied to associated activities which were separately authorized and appropriated by the Departments of Justice, Treasury or Transportation. In addition it includes a special list of circumstances under which the law does not apply, starting with the provisions for the use of aid to counter drug activities, followed by a series of amendments beginning in 1981. These amendments authorized the president to provide assistance when necessary to ensure U.S. national security, or on occasions when it was “inadvisable to specify the nature of the use of the funds” (Rosin and Younger 2004: 369). One of the most recently granted exceptions concerns community policing. In 2002 Jamaica was the first country in the world to receive the authorization by Congress for community-based police assistance. The Foreign Operations, Export Financing and Related Programs Appropriations Act 2005 (FOAA) permits such type of assistance worldwide.10 Both U.S. and UK assistance to Jamaica is not granted simply as a matter of course. Concerns about human rights abuses in Jamaica in 2000 induced the U.S. government to halt a shipment of bullet-proof vests to the Jamaican Constabulary Force (JCF). Similarly the United Kingdom initially withheld an export license to provide the JCF with 500 guns in 2000 because of human rights concerns. It eventually granted permission after reports that police training had been improved and brought into line with international human rights standards, with new recruits reportedly receiving more training in conflict resolution skills and alternatives to the use of force (Amnesty International 2001). General Nature and Background of Assistance to the JCF International police assistance over the past ten years has been provided both in initiating police reforms, and by assisting in criminal investigations as part

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of combined U.S. and British collaboration with the JCF in anti-narcotics operations. Recognizing the need for a fresh approach to improve the quality of the JCF, the Jamaican Minister of Security in 2005 appointed a British officer as deputy chief commissioner. This was followed by the appointment of another senior officer later that year, and the introduction of two other British officers announced in February 2006.11 This development significantly broadened the scope of traditional police assistance. Multilateral Assistance Early 2001 already saw increasing employment of U.S. and British officers to deal with narco-trafficking. In recent years the participation of Scotland Yard officers in investigating murders and shootings between rival gangs has also been connected to this anti-narcotics drive.12 Following an anti-narcotics campaign with close collaboration among Jamaican, British, U.S., and Canadian police lasting for four years, Operation Kingfish was set up in October 2004 as a kind of multiagency coordinating unit, mandated to dismantle major, organized criminal networks. It was to develop initial investigation leads and coordinate operational approaches in the absence of a central unit to analyze and coordinate intelligence. It is composed of specially vetted persons from the intelligence community, the Jamaica Constabulary Force, the Military Intelligence Unit and the U.S. and British as well as Canadian partners. Its goal has been not only to fight narco—and major crimes—but also to assist in dismantling organized criminal gangs by exposing their leaders and followers. Self-interest underlies most assistance offered in combating narco-gangs and trafficking. U.S. interest in the war against drugs is well known (Neild 2005). But it also applies to the UK in the light of the surge of narco-trafficking from the Caribbean since late 2001 and early 2002, with an estimated 20 percent of all cocaine entering Britain through the island by the end of 2004.13 As Bill Rammel, Foreign Office Minister, noted: “This is not just about altruism. Clearly we want to help countries scarred by drugs but we are helping ourselves as well.”14 UK Assistance Police assistance from the UK has been provided for training as well as assisting in the development and implementation of JCF’s corporate strategy (financed by the Department for International Development [DFID] by a three million pounds grant). Occasionally financial assistance has been offered to upgrade police facilities as part of JCF’s modernization program, and in

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recent years even provided fully fledged operational assistance. British training programs tend to be developed in a broader Caribbean context, frequently concerning the control of narcotics. In 2001, a 19.5 million pounds training program was announced for law enforcement officers in fourteen countries in the English-speaking Caribbean with 200,000 pounds designated for tactical training of Jamaican police. The most noticeable British input to Jamaican policing over the past years has been to assist operational policing, particularly by the aforementioned appointment of high-ranking British officers. Since 2002, British Scotland Yard officers have started being invited to carry out the investigations in a number of high-profile killings allegedly committed by police. British authorities in 2005 also committed themselves to assisting with the implementation of an anti-corruption policy and strategy within the JCF and with the establishment of a Professional Standards Branch. At the same time they undertook the rotation of British specialists on assignments and provided specialized training to senior JCF officers.15 Specific assistance has further been provided in the area of community policing. In 2005 two British officers (together with members of an independent advisory group with whom they worked successfully to tackle crime in black communities in London) came to the island for a limited time to teach the Jamaican police community-policing techniques.16 U.S. Assistance Since 2000 the most publicized U.S. assistance has concerned efforts to reduce the level of violence on the island, largely in connection with concerns about its impact on U.S. economic and commercial interests there. Funded by the American Chamber of Commerce (Amcham), in January 2001 the Police Executive Research Forum (PERF) carried out an evaluation of violent crimes and murders in Jamaica’s capital, Kingston, with the goal to develop strategies to reduce the level of violence. Eighty-two recommendations were made and incorporated by the JCF as part of its corporate strategy. Most PERF recommendations, however, were shelved. In 2004, the minister of national security and the commissioner informed Amcham that fifty of the eighty-three recommendations would not be implemented in the foreseeable future due to a lack of resources and the absence of supporting legislation.17 Directly linked to the recommendation of the PERF report concerning the introduction of community policing, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) funded a $3.5 million initiative, known as the Democracy and Governance Project, to implement community policing in the Kingston-Grants Pen area for a four to five–year period. In addition,

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USAID has made $6.9 million available for the period 2005-2009 to build on the foundations of the Grant’s Pen project, which was to be expanded to eighteen other communities in Jamaica as well. An Assessment of International Assistance Initiatives Neither U.S. nor UK assistance to the JCF is primarily oriented towards police reform. Nevertheless, implicitly or explicitly, police reforms are likely to be initiated when policies and initiatives are developed to combat crimes more effectively. We shall specifically examine the two major types of U.S. and British assistance with possible human rights relevance: U.S. assistance in the set-up of community policing and British involvement in operational policing. Community Policing: the Democracy and Governance Project The move towards community policing has for many years has been a central point of discussion within the Ministry of Security and the Ministry of Justice; the two were split in 2003 as part of the Corporate Strategy. A number of British and American consultants have participated in the process. In fact community policing has been highlighted as a major police initiative since 1998. In the mid-1990s there had been a three-year pilot project in community policing in the inner city of Kingston. As part of the Democracy and Governance Project, the PERF/USAID community policing project was initiated in 2003 in one of four selected neighborhoods where community policing was to be introduced: the other three were to be run as JFC initiatives, of which little has been heard since. The specific project undertaken by the PERF team has followed the rather restricted community policing philosophy as propagated by the Chief Commissioner, being aimed at securing information from inhabitants in order to be able to allocate police resources more effectively. Some forty officers considered suitable to function within the community policing philosophy were selected, including those assigned to two of the JCF’s community policing pilot divisions. They were given a forty-hour training session, Safe Encounters for Law Enforcement Officers, by four U.S. police trainers. This training aimed to teach officers to (1) develop an environment for safe interaction between the police and the public; (2) observe safety techniques when stopping persons and vehicles; (3) de-escalate tensions with hostile parties in volatile situations; (4) use passive techniques to control arrested individuals; and (5) to understand and apply appropriate levels of force to control suspects.18 The start of the Grant’s Pen community initiative was successful in that the participating local community officers were reportedly looked upon as

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trustworthy within the local community. One of the more interesting features of the project was the encouragement of locals to provide information to PERF organizers (rather than the police directly) on (crime) problems within the area during a group session of people from within the community. This procedure was intended to ensure that information provided could not be attributed to a particular person, who might then be subject to criminal retaliations. At the end of a session the organizers then asked the people’s permission to pass on the information to the police (i.e., the selected local officers). Initially this approach appeared successful. With no one else to turn to, people recounted at great length the worst of what was going on in the neighborhood. The manner in which public information was sought and the apparent cooperation of the neighborhood was encouraging, as was the fact that as yet no abuse of the information (indirectly) provided to the police was reported. The formula of giving people the opportunity to offer information anonymously to PERF collaborators as part of a group process seemed to offer inhabitants an opportunity to overcome their fear of gang or other criminal retaliation against those providing the information. The strategy of handpicking officers also seemed successful in view of the apparent absence of misuse of the information offered. Measured in those terms, the project could be considered a worthwhile initiative to regain public confidence, while simultaneously providing the police with valuable criminal intelligence. By 2005, however, flaws appeared. There was a loss of public trust after police failed to act upon the criminal intelligence provided, and some doubt about the integrity of some of the JCF officers involved crept in. With the emergence of the fear factor, the trust-building exercise between police and the community (divided into different gang areas, or so-called garrisons) began to be undermined. In response to these problems, the director in charge of the project turned out to be more interested in not ruffling feathers with the JCF leadership than being concerned about making inroads that really changed the nature of policing. Placing itself explicitly as an organization “at the service of ” rather than a critical outside body, PERF emerged as an organization more concerned with glossing over rather than confronting the problems caused by uncertainty about the integrity of participating officers. Some Issues Overall there are a number of factors which undermine community policing, even of the nature ventured in Grant’s Pen, either as a crime control or human rights strategy. Fundamentally, a community policing philosophy presupposes a professional model of policing, based on a high degree of police integrity,

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with police the neutral upholders of the law and regarded within the community as having these qualities. This is clearly not the case in Jamaica. Non-integrity—in fact or as a possible risk—extends to the JCF as a whole, and inevitably to officers involved in community policing as well. Without improvement in this respect, greater community involvement and openness towards community policing also poses risks. Whether and in which way criminal intelligence results in police action in Jamaica depends on a host of informal criteria. In view of the current levels of corruption, alliances of individual officers with criminal groups, criminal activities and other forms of non-integrity within the police force, the risks of criminal intelligence being misused for private purposes, especially in politically related (gang) violence and the drug trade, are very real. The likelihood of successful institutionalization of community policing and achieving legitimacy within a neighborhood is greatly diminished in a wider corrupted organizational context. Furthermore, it still remains unclear whether there is actually a shift from a reactive, para-military style of policing towards service-oriented community policing that reflects a fundamental change in policing style which is then able to alter the current deep public mistrust of police. In 2003 a Gleaner/Don Andersson Poll found that 53 percent of respondents cited a lack of trust between citizens and police as the real cause of low public support with 24 percent giving corruption in the police force as a major contributory factor, making it uncertain whether or not any information given will be handled professionally.19 If the core business and style of the police remains unhampered, goodwill and success by community police officers are likely to be overshadowed by specific incidents and the overwhelming mistrust of the police. It seems highly probable that trust-building exercises from within a community policing philosophy will be heavily stressed in such a context. As the PERF report (2001) rightly concluded, there is little point in introducing community policing unless it constitutes an integrative rethinking of policing style. Perhaps the increased British input into operational policing is relevant in this context. Foreign Involvement in Operational Policing As we saw, recent years have seen an increasing participation of British police in operational Jamaican policing, particularly in the domain of criminal investigations. Since 2002 Scotland Yard has been put in charge of a number of controversial cases in which JCF had been implicated as a guarantee that they would be thoroughly and impartially investigated. There is indeed a strong prima facie case to do so. JCF officers are known to be endlessly creative in obstructing cases where a proper investigation is deemed undesirable and by frustrating and causing delays when they do not wish criminal proceedings to

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be instigated.20 In controversial killings, particularly if police are involved, it makes sense to put Scotland Yard police in charge of the investigation to instil public confidence in its quality. As yet, however, direct Scotland Yard involvement in such cases has not resulted in criminal convictions. Even thorough and speedy investigations that produce strong enough evidence to instigate criminal proceedings do not ensure a criminal conviction: the possibility of intimidating witnesses or using any of the above-mentioned tactics still remains. Juries still have to be convinced (see the Kraal case discussed earlier), and there may be unwillingness on the part the prosecution and even the judiciary to see matters result in a conviction. This means that the involvement of Scotland Yard in controversial cases may do little to restore public confidence in Jamaican justice, in general or in particular where Jamaican police are implicated. Operation Kingfish In 2004 police estimated that there were twelve major organized criminal networks in Jamaica, whose criminal activities involved extortion, drug and arms trafficking, and kidnapping. Operation Kingfish was set up in October 2004 with a mandate to dismantle these networks. On its first anniversary, the unit was heralded as a great success; its chief claiming that it “managed to make a bigger dent in organized crime than any other crime squad could claim during their years of operation.”21 Most of the unit’s personnel are vetted officers from JCF’s Special Branch and Military Intelligence Unit, complemented by officers from abroad, primarily the UK and United States. The unit’s approach is to be pre-emptive (dismantling gangs) rather than containing gangs. In addition, in the words of its chief, Operation Kingfish is not just hunting down crime bosses, but also bringing them to justice.22 This can be translated as signifying the difference between de facto chasing and killing them as exemplified by the former Crime Management Unit under Reneto Adams, and seeking to do so in accordance with the rule of law. Of the twelve targeted criminal networks, after one year, Operation Kingfish claimed to have dismantled one and disrupted seven others, severely limiting their activities.23 As part of this process some gang members were arrested, some killed by other gang members, and others killed in confrontations with security forces. The key concept used in the unit’s operational strategy is that of intelligence consolidation, that is, taking basic strands of information and consolidating them with information already collected. This intelligence is then analyzed to develop specific operations and investigative leads into targeted criminal networks. Operation Kingfish has had a number of successes and has improved

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the quality of both investigations and the intelligence gathered, but it lacks an operational arm. Arrests, therefore, have to be outsourced within the JCF, and the same violent methods may be applied as a result (on one occasion a don was shot and killed during the arrest). In terms of the quality of policing on the streets, its impact has thus been limited. Operation Kingfish has disabled airstrips not only to prevent (drugs) planes from landing, but also to seize vessels suspected of being used to transport drugs as two of the main operational strategies employed. From October 2004 until December 2006, 1,578 operations were launched.24 As a tactical strategy it emphasizes public education to advise the community that although there are financial benefits to be gained from these gangs, . . . in essence, these communities are enslaved by these gang-members, who determine when they live, how they live and where they live.” Jamaican criminality is, however, deeply imbedded in Jamaican society, forming part of the interactive networks of social relations. Offering moral support and the practical skills needed, these networks have a powerful attraction for the marginalized poor in that they link people’s economic and social life (Harriott 2000: 20ff). Furthermore, criminal elites exert considerable power (manifested, for example, in the spontaneous mass demonstrations that may be mustered on the arrest of a powerful don), and there is a considerable overlap of the criminal, economic and political elites (Harriott 2000: 20ff). For the marginalized poor, in many communities crime is considered justifiable and some dons receive considerable popular support. In this context, the public education strategy used by Operation Kingfish seems rather naïve and hardly capable of undermining gang influence and the support they receive. What sets Operation Kingfish apart from earlier approaches to tackle criminal networks is its endeavours to get local communities to collaborate. A tollfree number has been made available to the public to give information confidentially. The police provide information concerning their plans and goals by means of a “community sensitization program.” The backbone of its success is professed to lie in the unit’s demonstrated willingness to act on information provided and the assurance that any information will be treated with confidentiality. Witness protection is a key issue, but it is to be achieved mainly by the conviction of those against whom information is given or testimonies made. In the face of Jamaican realities, the basis of trust which underlies both axioms can be easily undermined by a specific incident. It hardly needs saying that relying primarily on assured convictions for witness protection for those testifying against organised crime networks is difficult to take seriously. For those in fear of their lives if they provide testimony, this argument is unlikely to carry much weight.

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Finally, Operation Kingfish was also created to fulfill a social intervention function. After disposing of criminal networks, they are to assist persons who had become dependent on these networks and to link them to the different programs available in these communities. For this purpose US$20 million was set aside, but due to the incapacity of the Ministry of National Security up to date (May 2008) there have been problems to develop suitable projects on which to spend the money. Nevertheless, the rationale of this approach is a valid one; merely dismantling the gangs would probably result in the replacement of organized gangs by disorganized violence if the gang power structure is not replaced by other social structures capable of filling such a void. The Incorporation of Senior British Police within the JCF The year 2005 saw the first appointments of British high-ranking officers from Scotland Yard within the Jamaican police. The appointment of a Deputy Chief Police (DCP) in March 2005, who was put in charge of the newly established Major Investigation Taskforce, was followed by March 2006 with four high-ranking officers from Scotland Yard joining the ranks of the JCF.25 The government presented these appointments as a way to incorporate new ideas, techniques, and perspectives within the police. The introduction of the British DCP signalled innovation in policing in a number of respects. A key notion of the new DCP is that investigations are to be intelligence driven, a strategy that would be a departure from the usual police tactics characteristically based on intimidation and force to acquire information. After a dramatic increase of murders early 2005, the British DCP began to organize meetings with all divisional commanders to identify hot spots. Officers would be redeployed to such areas on the basis of intelligence and investigations that identified those persons involved in these murders. As a result of this initiative a unit was established to coordinate crime statistics, crime mapping, intelligence and environmental scanning. Its purpose is to develop what DCP Shields referred to as an early warning system, allowing additional police resources to be relocated in particular areas where incidents appear to be accumulating, or if there is intelligence suggesting an increase of arms or ammunition in an area.26 In January 2006, Shields announced the establishment of a new task force comprising 100 to 120 officers as an extension of the formula used in Operation Kingfish, which was to be both proactive (intelligence driven) and reactive (investigating serious crime). As part of a drive to increase clear-up rates, those cases in which suspects are named or where there is a strong likelihood that they can be identified would be prioritized.27

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Shields sought to introduce some high-tech investigation technologies such as a computerized Integrated Ballistic Identification System (IBIS) as forensic technology to track firearms (and other technologies to help analyse evidence), as well as a Personal Digital Assistant (PDA), a system which allows officers on the street to record or check fingerprints on a computerized data base. Such technologies, he argued, are important in the face of the pressures and intimidation eyewitnesses face and provide a way to diminish relying on witnesses for conviction. Some Issues It is too soon to judge the innovations initiated with the arrival of the new British input. Instead we take note of some of the issues these give rise to. An intelligence-driven approach presupposes the fundamental integrity of those involved in the information-gathering process. It cannot be expected to work unless this can be relied upon. The then opposition leader and, in 2007 elected prime minister of the Jamaican Labour Party Leader, Bruce Golding, contended that the plan was destined to fail because “it is merely tinkering at the edges [involving] the appointment of a new intelligence chief without providing the intelligence machinery that the new intelligence chief is to be intelligent about.” Another issue is whether the introduction of British officers might encounter internal police opposition, fuelled by resentment against people with a colonial heritage (as happened during the early 1980s in the case of the temporary introduction of a large number of Dutch police sent from the Netherlands to the Dutch Antilles in the fight against narco-trafficking). Early indications were that Shields was unable to form any strategic alliances inside the JCF as a vanguard group collaborating in implementing these innovations and reforms. The proposed fingerprinting system has been criticized by Jamaican human rights groups as an invasion of personal privacy, with concerns that people could be harassed (without being charged as a suspect) and forced to give a fingerprint.28 Such criticism is related to the profound (and justified) mistrust of both the police and wider justice system and past experience with the misuse of intelligence. The problem with such concerns, however, is that in the light of the traditional unfettered police violence a more human rights friendly police response to the high levels of social violence inevitably involves a search for more updated and sophisticated investigative techniques as well as upgrading the quality of investigations in general. This requires weighing the different human rights issues involved. The possible infringements of privacy rights and the

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possibility of abuse of information are undoubtedly secondary to the relevance of the right to life which is infringed upon by the current level of violence and accompanying violent policing tactics. Equally pertinent is that the introduction of the new high-tech investigative techniques takes place against a background of investigative procedures lacking the fundamentals required for any chance of successful criminal conviction in court. The relevance of introducing such new technologies would therefore depend on the possibility of improving general investigative procedures. Shields made some inroads here: some seventy new crime scene investigators were trained in 2005 and another group in 2006.

International Police Assistance: The Road Forward Crime Control Strategies and Police Reforms in Jamaica A three-year involvement in the development and operationalization of the JCF corporate police strategy turned the British police consultant concerned to near total cynicism and frustration, since any decisions made would never be implemented in reality. His disillusionment reflects the general Jamaican experience. Past initiatives to reduce the level of violence on the island and reform the JCF to improve the quality of policing and increase its integrity list as a catalogue of failures (Harriott 2000). In assessing why past initiatives have failed, the National Committee on Crime and Violence gave many reasons: a tendency to adopt popular or politically expedient policies and programs by preference (lack of political will); a reactive and prescriptive approach that fails to attack root problems; the mainstreaming of policies and programs without the necessary infrastructure to do so; communities that were not fully engaged; a focus on outputs rather than outcomes; failure to maintain the gains: what works is neglected; the failure of policy makers and implementers to “walk the talk”; and finally, too little investment in people. Implementing Reforms and Initiatives Whereas it has proved relatively easy over the years to formulate an imposing series of reform plans, implementing them is another matter. This failure is caused by a combination of organizational inefficiency, red tape and insincerity within the police to really support reform, including community policing. It is this reality that drives reformers (external Jamaican and foreign advisers) taking part in the process to despair. In recent years several gave up and with-

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drew from the process altogether. The JCF may at the outset go along with the development of community policing as a form of window dressing more than anything else. As insiders will tell you, in spite of rhetoric to the contrary, JCF management do not really believe in community policing. In essence most senior police adhere to the belief that Jamaican realities require tough methods of policing, and community policing is not regarded as a method that is likely to work. Priorities Under Current Conditions Current Jamaican conditions require the setting of priorities. The level of deadly violence needs to be drastically reduced, as does the power of criminal gangs and its leaders (dons). Only then can the authorities (whether political, police or wider criminal justice system) expect to regain some sense of police and state legitimacy and control. As a general priority one may say that Jamaica is in need of pacification as an a priori condition, before policing and justice in accordance with the principles of the rule of law have any chance of succeeding. In fact, on a number of occasions in 2005, the National Security Minister decided to temporarily deploy the Jamaica Defense Force and the National Reserve in high crime areas in Spanish Town, August Town and East Kingston. The nature of the power of the army under such circumstances has been the subject of considerable debate, but as yet soldiers accompanying police on patrol do not have the power to arrest.29 Merging the army and police—as periodically suggested—has as yet also been ruled out.30 In view of Jamaica’s current priorities, a crucial yardstick to judge the relevance of specific police assistance initiatives is whether they can be expected to reduce levels of violence and thus help to restore some basic police and state legitimacy. Reducing violence is important to diminish social support which tacitly legitimizes and condones police excesses, in particular illegal killings. The challenge will be to devise police strategies that are effective, legal and seen as adequate by the population. Conditions for Success Any chance for success is contingent on a number of conditions relating to both the police and the wider criminal justice system. Just to cope with the size of the problem requires greater effectiveness and efficiency of the criminal justice system as a whole. In January 2006, the Minister of Justice announced reforms aimed at securing improvements such as access, cost

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efficiency, quality, transparency, accountability and restorative justice, and rationalization.31 These reforms, however, are unlikely to reduce the extent to which formal procedures can be manipulated by the police or by others. With affiliations or entanglement by many of the criminal gangs with specific political parties or politicians, one crucial issue is whether sufficient political will can be mustered to break the backbone of criminal gangs and their leaders by judicial rather than extra-judicial means. The success of current endeavours to improve the quality of operational policing by modernizing and updating criminal investigation techniques and making operations more intelligence- than fear driven, is particularly dependent on other factors: the level of integrity and expertise of the rankand-file involved in intelligence-based policing and the kind of grassroot support any genuine attempts to fight organized crime and criminal gangs can summon up. It also depends on the degree that the police become depoliticized: decisions whether to take action against criminal gangs and dons should obviously not be influenced by possible political affiliations of (individual) police chiefs. Finally of course, as Harriott’s analysis of previous attempts to carry out reforms within the JCF demonstrates, any success is highly contingent upon whether these reforms enjoy continued political commitment. A fundamental question remaining is whether the JCF can in fact be reformed in light of pervasive, institutionalized, non-integrity that pervades the organization and whether or not there is any hope of improving the quality and integrity of policing without first abolishing the JCF altogether and starting afresh. Anthony Harriott—undoubtedly one of most authoritative persons in Jamaica to judge this point—is one of those inclined to the latter view. Given the fact that its replacement is currently not on the political agenda (nor does it appear likely to be placed there in the foreseeable future) we shall confine our considerations to the relevance of international assistance to the existing JCF. International Police Assistance: Manoeuvring in a Minefield Any international police assistance given to the JCF with the intention of upgrading the quality of policing at one point or other faces the inescapable fact that the force itself is as much part of as the solution to the problem. International police assistance, whatever its nature, is confronted in Jamaica with a potentially deadly cocktail of societal violence and institutionalized non-integrity within the police force. For example, as a foreign consultant, how can you convince a sceptical community of the need to open up and provide police criminal intelligence if subsequent requests for the police to act on such

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information are then stonewalled by the officers on the ground? What do you do if the officers you have to work with have their own agenda or if you are unsure of their integrity? On the basis of a literature study, Bayley (2001) lists seventeen generic lessons for changing police organizations oriented towards more democratic norms of policing.32 They concern a variety of conditions that determine the success of particular police reforms, at the same time setting the issues pertaining to the development of police reform programs. Bayley emphasizes that any reform program requires not just an articulated understanding of the connections between the objectives and actions proposed, but also of their feasibility. A further conclusion is that reforms should aim at changes in the culture of an organization: formal reorganizations of the police will not suffice to change police behavior. Bayley’s reform guide is important to those who are organizing serious and sustainable police reform. The fact remains that most assistance is, and will most likely continue to be, given on an ad hoc basis or as part of operational assistance, with those involved at best dealing with the realities they find as best they can. The likelihood is that most international assistance will turn out to be irrelevant in terms of upgrading the quality and integrity of policing in both the short- and the long-term. Maybe one or another particular facet can be improved, such as the quality of criminal investigations or advancements in terms of forensic evidence. But in Jamaica its value can be easily lost because of the restricted capacity and inefficient British type of accusatorial criminal justice system that is easily manipulated and subverted by key players and that is incapable of responding in any systematic and coherent way to the sheer number of cases it has to deal with. The magnitude of the problem is compounded by the fact that there is widespread popular support for offering the police as free a hand as it feels necessary to meet the island’s violence head-on with unrestrained police violence. To tackle Jamaica’s combined problems of institutionalized violence and corruption within the police and the level of violence in society requires an integrated strategy in response. But the island’s experience has demonstrated that this is easier said than done. Initiatives to reform and tackle the problem of crime and violence in society are confronted with a failure of policy makers and implementers to “walk the talk.” Moreover, a broad integrated plan is all very well in theory, but in as far as international assistance is concerned, the reality is that plans tend to be offered in fragments, especially if different donor countries are involved. This makes the notion of working from and implementing an overall master plan largely illusionary.

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Strategies of Hope To return to the question raised at the outset of this contribution: what role is there for international police assistance to play in the face of numerous and complex problems that are almost overwhelming, in situations that appear to lack the preconditions necessary for them to have any foreseeable impact? The year 2006 saw the amount of deadly violence reduced to just over 1,300, almost a quarter less than the homicide rate for 2005. The British Deputy Commissioner attributed this reduction to paying increased attention (as one of the lessons learned from the experience of the previous year) to identifying the hotspots where most murders would occur and subsequently by controlling them with intelligence-led policing. This trend, however, was reversed in 2007, with homicides again rising to 1,574, only 100 less than the all-time high reached in 2005, making clear that in spite of the initiatives on the various fronts public security on the whole has hardly improved. Both societal and internal police realities are hard to change. No matter how well-intended or well-devised, their impact will also depend on—both foreseeable and unforeseeable—circumstances. It may in part depend on the people involved in a particular initiative. For example a DIFID-initiated policing project in downtown Kingston at the end of the 1990s was successful for three years. It was successful because it involved a senior officer and two other officers the people liked and started to trust. It crashed because these police were transferred elsewhere. In spite of the earlier somewhat sobering conclusions concerning the Grant’s Pen model there are also other experiences which suggest that under certain circumstances community policing could pay dividends and thus that international assistance on this front could be relevant. The PERF report (American Chamber of Commerce 2001: 12) gave a positive account of some units operating from local police stations. These units were primarily monitored and dispatched by a local radio frequency and handled routine police matters in a small area. PERF-team members observed that they demonstrated an in-depth knowledge of the neighborhood, local issues, and were familiar to the residents.33 “Some could not drive around the block without being hailed by people walking or driving by. There was no noticeable sense of estrangement on the part of the residents and businesses. . . . In one instance, there was a local soccer game being played and a number of local station constables stopped just to watch the game. These constables walked into a very large crowd without hesitation to cheer on their favorite teams. The crowd either welcomed them or ignored them, but did not display of anger or contempt for them. These constables were generally well-received” (American Chamber of Commerce of Jamaica 2001: 14).34

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Or perhaps, unexpectedly, police use of deadly force may not always totally be assured of impunity. In February 2006, for the first time in six years, a constable was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment for shooting someone in the back while on patrol with other officers. He had claimed that the victim and another man had opened fire on them and that he had shot back to protect himself and his colleagues. However, scientific evidence presented by the prosecution demonstrated that no gunpowder residue was found on the deceased’s hands. Before this verdict, previous big trials of officers could be interpreted as proof that not even the best of investigations and criminal trials applied to police: impunity had been expected and indeed prevailed. Now all of a sudden a properly carried out investigation did result in a conviction, and maybe, as a result, police can be less assured of impunity than before. So assistance in using forensic techniques and proper investigation techniques need not be a futile exercise. The opening in January 2006 of the Model Policing and Services Centre can be seen much from this point of view.35 The centre houses a police station, a commercial banking facility, ABM and bill payment agencies, an Internet café and a community meeting and training room. Its setup has been innovative in that it has been financed by a mixture of both USAID and private sector money. More important, the model was established in consultation with community leaders and residents, who chose the centre rather than a model police station. Being integrated as part of a community service centre could offer a starting point for the police to become organizationally more integrated within the community and its public and commercial institutions. It remains to be seen whether the new Grant’s Pen model policing and service centre and the recently announced USAID-funded new community policing initiatives will signify real innovation as a community-based style of policing by building trust within the community, improving security, and reducing police excesses. However, as the earlier experiences of community policing in Grants Pen illustrate institutional and social forces can easily undermine any initial successes that might be achieved. The start of the Grant’s Pen model station—as tends to happen with most initiatives—was surrounded by a mood of optimism and hope. At its official opening the U.S. ambassador noted that five years ago Grant’s Pen was violent and the police could only just enter the community; now police engage in ordinary patrolling there. At the same time he signalled that initiatives are under way to select other communities to adopt a similar model of policing.36 The introduction of the model police station, at least in the short-term, turned out to be remarkably successful, being accompanied by a drop in the murder rate in Grant’s Pen from eleven in 2004 to three in 2005, to zero in 2006, as an apparent vindication of a “change from a paramilitary approach to

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one of service and intelligence.”37 A model that builds on engagement between those in authority and the public could be a catalyst to expanding more community and human rights–based policing. If properly run and offering communities a basic sense of security, international police assistance and the accompanying partnerships with private businesses in this domain could serve as an antidote to policing practices Reneto Adams–style and thus draw Jamaica further away from the abyss of a failed state.

Conclusion One important dimension for ascertaining the relevance of specific international police assistance in a country like Jamaica is to consider whether there is some basis to believe that it may be of value, even if only in the long run, that by increasing police integrity and by police adherence to human rights values, police professionalism will increase security by legal and legitimate means. It is difficult to pinpoint any type of international police assistance that can a priori be assured of an impact on the quality of policing. But if nothing else the history of Jamaican police reform has demonstrated that the Jamaican Constabulary Force is incapable of self-reform: there are simply too many incentives to keep things as they are. It is in such a context also that one should judge the relevance of international police assistance, whether in terms of specific policing projects or in terms of operational policing. Officers introduced from outside may afford support to those of good will, to those not or less immerged in the prevailing culture of corruption. But it is equally possible that they may become marginalized, undermined, or simply ignored. Seeking to professionalize investigation methods by introducing standard fingerprinting equipment to patrol crews may also provide a better chance of catching the perpetrators of serious crime, reducing impunity and possibly diminishing extra-legal killings. In other respects it might also worsen matters, creating the risk that information acquired could be abused or constitute an infringement of privacy rights, as recently argued by the human rights group Jamaicans for Justice. With the outcome of reforms inevitably in doubt, perhaps the criteria should be that when there are grounds for hope it should be attempted and, in the case of failure, lessons learned. One likely crucial factor determining their success or failure is the political dimension: the political will involved and the sincerity for change on a governmental level. It is on this level that decisions as to whether international police assistance should be provided as part of an effort to improve the quality of the JCF or in the context of building a completely new police force. The experiences of the

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British officers in the current police leadership will undoubtedly be a relevant learning experience in this respect.

Notes 1. I would like to thank Katarina Lazana for her assistance in putting together this chapter. 2. The real figures in recent years are in fact even higher: any killings committed by people in the possession of a gun permit are not even registered as homicides and are therefore not included in these statistics. 3. In February 2006, following the murder of one particular notorious gang leader in Spanish Town, fellow gang members and supporters went on a rampage in town, torching the old court house (killing the caretaker in the process), burning cars and mounting roadblocks accompanied by wild outburst of gunfire, completely closing down the town centre for two days. “Fear Grips Spanish Town; most businesses, schools and offices stay closed,” February 10, 2006, The Jamaica Observer. 4. Even before the spiral of violence in 2004 and 2005, investigators in fact received very little crime scene support. At the time of the visit of the Police Executive Research Forum (PERF) to JCF’s Forensic Science Laboratory in 2000, it found its equipment was inoperable and the facility was in general in poor condition, with buckets strewn about to catch water from a leaky roof. Laboratory personnel was hardly ever requested to attend serious crime scenes. “Typical crime scene management is such that no reliable evidence would be worth collecting if they would be called.” The PERF team also reported that Homicide Unit lacked separate interview rooms, an absence of computer support at investigators level, lack of prosecutorial involvement in early stages of the investigation, finger prints would only be processed manually, bodies would normally simply be picked up, no body bags would be used, nor any effort made to preserve physical evidence that may be present on the body, not even the hands of victims are bagged. Facilities where bodies are stored were reported to be insecure and there was no effort to keep murder victims separated from those who die of natural causes. At the time of the PERF investigation in 2000 medical examiners would be rarely called upon to testify in court as it was generally felt that their contribution would be meaningless if not harmful to the prosecution. (The American Chamber of Commerce of Jamaica (2001) the PERF Report, pp. 40–50). 5. Chris Summers (2004) Jamaica Wrestles with Police Violence, http://news.bbc.co .uk/1/hi/world/americas/3674251.stm. 6. The Jamaica Gleaner, December 12, 2001, “Renato winner of the week.” 7. These figures also include a small number of killings by members of the armed forces, as opposed to the relevant figures provided after 1994. 8. Mark Wignall, The Jamaica Observer, December 22, 2005, “No Surprises in the Adams Verdict.” 9. The Jamaica Observer, February 19, 2006, “Agency probing police abuses severely under-financed.”

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10. Section 564(a) of the FOAA stipulates that foreign assistance is permitted “to enhance the effectiveness and accountability of civilian police authority through training and technical assistance in human rights, the rule of law, strategic planning, and through assistance to foster civilian police roles that support democratic governance, including assistance for programs to prevent conflict, respond to disasters, address gender-based violence and foster improved police relations with the communities they serve.” 11. Jamaica Gleaner, February 2, 2006, “Two more Scotland Yard cops for JCF.” 12. Such support is given in the context of a newly established National Investigative Authority, set up as a separate unit from the JCP that would draw on resources outside the force. With the aid of Scotland Yard the unit was to be structured to “provide public accountability reports to satisfy the imperatives of transparency” (The Jamaica Observer, November 1, 2004, “New unit to catch or clear corrupt cops”). 13. BBC news online, December 22, 2004. According to Britsh police sources, since 2001 Jamaican (Yardie) gangs have become increasingly involved in crack cocaine and heroin trafficking, combined with an unpsurge of drug-related Yardie violence, and in 2001 Jamaican police officers were brought for the first time under a bilateral agreement to infiltrate the Yardie gangs. 14. BBC news online, December 22, 2004. 15. The Jamaica Observer, February 3, 2005, “British cops start coming March 1.” 16. The Jamaica Observer, September 1, 2005, “Britons to teach Jamaican cops community policing techniques.” 17. Observer Reporter, March 6, 2004, “50 of 83 of PERF recommendations still not implemented says Amchan; Lack of resources, legislation blamed.” 18. The training involved both classroom training and hands-on training emphasizing scenario-based skills building (The Jamaica Observer, November 12, 2003, “LAPD Trains 40 Local Cops”; The Jamaica Observer, November 16, “43 Cops Trained in How Not to Use Deadly Force: Grant’s Pen is first test Case”). 19. Jamaican Gleaner, October 1, 2003. Such opinions were expressed by all layers of Jamaican society but, not surprisingly, were most predominant in the low socioeconomic group. 20. A standard JCF police delaying tactic to frustrate an investigation and procedure, is first to take a very long time (perhaps over a year) to carry out the initial investigation. It is then sent with many mistakes to the DPP who in its turn sends it back with the request for further information. This way they can delay the procedure endlessly, for instance until a material witness has moved or left his address or is no longer prepared to give a statement. 21. The Jamaica Observer, November 13, 2005, “Outsmarting the criminal bosses, crippling organised gang networks; Kingfish anniversary interview with ACP Glenmore Hinds.” 22. Ibidem. 23. In March 2006 the State Department’s International Narcotics Control Strategy Report (INCSR) offered a very upbeat first assessment of Operation Kingfish, cataloguing a list of initial successes.

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24. These operations reportedly resulted in the compounding of fifty-six vehicles, fifty-seven boats and one aircraft. They also resulted in the seizure of thirteen tons of cocaine and over 27,000 pounds of marijuana (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jamaica -United_States_relations). In commemoration of its three-year existence, the Ministry of National Security announced on October 19, 2007 that some 567 arrests had been made as a result of its operations and five illegal airstrips disabled. 25. The newly appointed British deputy commissioner of police prior to his appointment had been seconded from Scotland Yard to head the Kraal investigation in 2003, which in December 2005 resulted in the acquittal of all the accused officers, including Reneto Adams. His appointment early 2005 (early 2006 he was granted a fouryear contract) was to be the first of the intended appointments of five senior police. In 2006, a second British officer (who had worked in an advisory capacity in Operation Kingfish) was appointed Assistant Commissioner of Police and made responsible for homicide and serious crime investigations, followed a month later by two appointments of officers in charge of Operations and Firearms and Community Policing and Crime. A fifth officer, who was to be in charge of the anti-corruption unit, in the end declined the contract offered. 26. The Jamaica Observer, March 26, 2006, “Shields says things looking up, despite non-stop bloodletting: First anniversary interview.” 27. The Jamaica Observer, January 1, 2006, “Police pin hope on new task force to boost criminal convictions: Senior CIB officers handpicking members.” 28. The Jamaica Observer, December 11, 2005, “Fingerprint phobia: Human rights groups fear that the police may bully public.” 29. The issue of the nature of the powers the army should have in keeping the peace emerges from time to time: sometimes soldiers observe armed men from their outposts, but then do not engage them because of the absence of police at that time. In one particular incident in October 2005 a ten-year-old girl and her entire family were killed after soldiers failed to respond to the pleas of neighbours to offer support against gunmen in the area (The Jamaica Observer, November 8, 2005, “Soldiers will only patrol streets with police, says Philips”). 30. The Jamaica Observer, September 22, 2005, “PM rules our police, JDF merger.” 31. The Jamaica Observer, January 28, 2006, “Govt to review justice system.” 32. These lessons are principally intended as practical advice to American reformers and are based on three bodies of literature: (1) literature on police reform in developed English-speaking countries over the past thirty years; (2) accounts of the experiences with foreign police assistance by agencies of the U.S. government as well as the UN; (3) accounts of the attempts made by nongovernmental human rights organizations to reform abusive police behavior abroad. 33. Being often located in the heart of densely populated and troubled neighbourhoods, the PERF report considered the station house to play a major role in connecting the police to the neighbourhoods. In contrast to specialized unit facilities, such stations tend to have an open design and people come and go quite freely, with especially the “guard room” or front counter of the station being a hub of activity (PERF report, 2001, p. 14).

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34. Such observations contrasted with those of units that operated from centralized police stations which were assigned to patrol areas across the city. Travelling predominantly on the larger streets and not frequently entering troubled neighbourhoods, these units were observed to lack the knowledge of individuals and locations that was noticed among the local population. 35. The initial plan was to set up a model police station, which was to be constructed by the American Chamber of Commerce. On the basis of its inception, in the PERF report (2001) community policing was to be integrated as part of the overall style of policing. The proposed characteristics specifically relevant in this respect were: (1) both a pro-active and reactive style of work; (2) the availability of private spaces for the public to meet constables privately; (3) assignment of the same constables to the same beats as much as possible; (4) an active and interactive mode of policing beats; (5) specific personal responsibilities for solving problems in these areas. However, during the community-policing consultation process involved, the community was offered the choice between such a new police station and a multi-purpose community service facility (to be constructed by the American Chamber of Commerce under its Peace and Prosperity Project). It opted for the community facility involving an array of community services rather than the police station, apparently inspired by lingering bad feelings about police lockups. 36. The Jamaica Observer, January 25, 2006, “More police community centres coming.” 37. “A year of peace; the Jamaican Grant’s Pen community policing example.” January 23, 2007, Networks of Ideas and Practices in Citizen Security and Human Trust (http://www.comunidadesegura.org/?q=en/node/31590).

6 Police Transformation and International Cooperation—The Jamaican Experience Anthony Harriott

EFORM OF THE SECURITY SECTOR, and particularly police reform, has been an enduring concern across Latin America and much of the Caribbean. The challenge has been, and still is, to affect a democratic transformation of the security sector. In Latin America, this has meant primarily demilitarization: reducing and ultimately removing the influence of the military on the other institutions of the security establishment, such as the police forces and intelligence services; reducing military influence on the policy process; and asserting civilian control over the military itself (Silva 2002; Fitch 1998). This agenda of concerns has been shaped by the recent histories of military dictatorship in various countries of the region and by Cold War–inspired internal security doctrines that have been associated with internal political repression and systematic abuses of human rights. However, the Commonwealth Caribbean does not have a history of military rule. Rather, the region has a strong post-Independence tradition of democratic government, giving democratization a different meaning. In the Commonwealth Caribbean, democratization means reforming and, in some instances, transforming the security forces. Such reformation includes ensuring greater socio-demographic representation in terms of race and gender,1 reducing party political permeation and manipulation, emphasizing greater accountability of the security sector to the people and to the law, showing greater respect for the rights of the citizenry, creating effective methods of redress, and transparency. In short, it means a reengineering of the relationship between the security sector, particularly the police, and the people. On this basis, the reformed security sector is expected to win the trust, confidence and

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improved cooperation of the public and to become more successful in controlling crime. In some cases, including that of the Jamaican police, the problems are so deep that a transformation, not just reform, is required. The challenge in seeking to transform the Jamaica Constabulary Force (JCF) is how to effect such profound changes in a context of strong internal resistance to change. This resistance is grounded in the inertia of traditional ways of policing, in the benefits that accompany the status quo, including the benefits of corruption, and in other internal disincentives to change (see Harriott 2000). Moreover, the socio-political environment is not consistently conducive to change. It is characterized by extraordinarily high levels of violent criminality and high levels of fear of crime among the general population. In 2005, the homicide rate was 64 incidents per 100,000 citizens, and in 2000, when the homicide rate was lower (39/100,000), a survey of the population revealed that some 40 percent regarded themselves as being at high risk of being violently victimized.2 Consequently, there are strong pressures from large sections of the population for results, regardless of the means employed, or at least ambivalence towards police vigilantism and other “dirty” methods of responding to violent criminality. Support for such methods weakens the demand for transparency and accountability and the collective will to actively and seriously pursue democratic police reform. There are thus pressures for and counter-pressures against change from the public and the political elite. These cross pressures, and the accompanying ambivalence, have contributed to the erratic progression of reform efforts. Within the police force there is significant support for change, but the internal resistance to change is very powerful. The force of this resistance is, perhaps, most deeply rooted in corruption. In a speech to the Police Federation Shortly after taking command of the Force on January 19, 2005, Police Commissioner Lucius Thomas noted that corruption takes many forms and runs to the highest level of the Force.3 This was the first official public admission of the institutionalization of corruption within the Force since the mid-1990s. Occasional signals of this sort tend to have the effect of raising expectations that the leadership of the Force will energize the struggling reform process. However, the power of the internal resistance to change, and the material foundations on which this resistance is based (all of which have become very evident since the first attempts at reform in 1994), strongly suggest that the Force is incapable of self-change. Successful reform must thus involve inserting a critical mass of external change-agents into the Force. This must be bolstered by structuring the system of accountability so that it exerts strong and consistent pressure for change. The role of foreign police services and externally recruited officers in partnerships for change should be understood with an appreciation of the diffi-

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culties, opportunities and preconditions for success. Such partnerships provide a source of external change-agents whose authority is rooted in technical competence. In this essay, the role of foreign partners in the reform process in Jamaica is analyzed with special emphasis on the period after 1996. This is the period in which these partners have become fairly prominent in the process of change via their involvement in the design of the program of change (that is, in the elaboration of the strategy and plans of the JCF), provision of financial support for these plans, and direct entry into the Force at very senior command levels with responsibility for critical functions. The contributions of the external partners, particularly the British, are thus conceptual, financial, managerial, and operational.

The Challenge to Democratization It is often argued that a major reason for the strength of democratic institutions in the Caribbean region is the British colonial legacy (see Payne and Sutton 1999: 7; Grugel 1995: 94–95; Spackman 1975).4 There is some truth to this. Parliaments dominated by slave-holding interests and based on a restricted suffrage were established in all of the British colonies. The first was established in the settler colony of Barbados in 1639 and later in Jamaica in 1664. Unlike Barbados, colonial Jamaica may be characterized as a “colony of exploitation.” Jamaica was populated by fewer Whites, with its plantation owners largely residing in England and having therefore less interest in the development of the institutions that were vital to the quality of life in Jamaica, the protection of Jamaican interests, and its administration as a colony. Regardless of the type of colony, these Parliaments were progressively more expressive of local interests and, to varying degrees, shared power with the Governor.5 After 1944, there was universal adult suffrage, two party competitive systems, and a progressive takeover of the responsibilities of government by the new political elites. In Jamaica, which achieved internal self-government in 1944, full local responsibility for internal security matters was transferred to the elected authorities (the Legislative Council) in 1959 and national defense matters, along with control of the military, at Independence in 1962. Democratic Institutions Democratic institutional arrangements and forms of representation, however, need not be anchored in a democratic ethos. It is generally accepted that democracy is not just a matter of who should rule (the majority), how power is managed and constrained (that is, by law, the institutional arrangements and

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the politics of participation that hold the institutions of state to account), and by what principle their rule should be determined and legitimized (the elective principle), but also “the interests served and the values that are promoted, internalized and eventually taken for granted,” and how these structure the behavior of critical institutions, especially those of the State.6 A successful and durable democracy thus depends, to a large measure, not just on the “high politics” of state-institutional actors, but also on the “deep politics of society” (sees Luckham, Goetz, and Kaldor 2003: 20–21). The Caribbean colonies inherited formal democratic structures of government, but a democratic ethos that finds expression in the “deep politics of society” was yet to be built. After centuries of majority exclusion, democratic practices remained far removed from the habits of everyday social and political life. It was not until after the late 1930s (1938 in Jamaica) that deep social and political movements gave a more organized, sustained and successful expression to the struggle for the extension of basic democratic rights, including the right to self-government and the accompanying freedoms.7 Recent surveys reveal that there is majority support for democratic values, especially individual freedoms such as freedom of speech (see Powell 2006: 9–16). However, there have long been significant minorities within the elites and among the general population who were and are willing to trade some of these freedoms for economic growth and/or order and more effective crime control, perhaps so long as the basic political rights, such as the right to vote for the government of one’s choice, are preserved.8 When asked if they would trade greater order for less freedom, 43.2 percent of a representative sample of the population responded in the affirmative (see Powell 2006: 18). Moreover, while 75.7 percent regard democracy as the best form of government, 78.6 percent felt that a “bit of a firm hand from government was okay” (Powell 2006: 9, 17). This phrase should not be taken as the equivalent of mano dura crime control policies and tactics, but it approximates it. Support for democratic structures and basic democratic values co-exist with support for undemocratic policing.9 Democratic Legacy, and Jamaican Security and Criminal Justice In the field of national security and criminal justice, the democratic legacy of colonialism is much overstated. Colonial security doctrines were largely based on the protection of the state by the state, and on the protection of the interests of the ethnic minority elites. The profoundly undemocratic aspects of this legacy in the administration of the JCF, its methods of policing and its relationship to the public are documented elsewhere (see Harriott 2000). The post-colonial challenge was thus to affect a deep democratic transformation of policing and to give this process content and meaning for the previously ex-

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cluded majority. The critical changes for the police after Independence in the democratic states of the region necessarily involved shifting from the narrow notions of simply protecting the state and incumbent political administrations to the protection of the individual rights and freedoms of the new citizenry. This may be described as a shift from political policing to law enforcement (see Mars 2001; Harriott 1997). An important aspect of this shift is the application of democratic values and principles to policing, or, at least, for the population to begin to see these possibilities. In the context of high and increasing levels of violent crime, and the accompanying toleration of dubious police methods by large sections of the population, shifting to a way of policing that holds the rights of citizens in high regard has proven to be quite challenging. Continued social exclusion and the existing pattern of police behavior (arbitrary arrests, abuse of their powers to humiliate targets or suspects, and extended detentions without charge, for example) serve to deny large sections of the urban poor their basic rights as citizens. Thus, as a condition for the full enjoyment of these rights (freedom of movement and association, freedom from arbitrary arrest, etc.), police practices and structures must be changed. These changes are best secured and consolidated by shifting power in favour of the affected citizenry via a measure of direct police accountability to them at the local level. Given their history of serving narrow interests, Caribbean state systems, as others have observed, have been vulnerable to capture by special interests. This applies to the police force, which has always been highly responsive to the centers of social and political power (see Harriott 2000). Undue influence by special interests may take the form of neglect of the crimes of the powerful, such as governmental, organized, and white-collar crimes. It also finds expression in overt partisan policing which, in recent years, has been losing its intensity and become less problematic. Avoiding undue influence would constitute a second fundamental shift toward democratization. Affecting this shift requires a thorough professionalization of the Police Force and greater accountability. In the “post-colonial” context of Jamaica, democratization of policing means resolving the legitimacy problems of the Police Force.10 Confidence and trust are important referents of authority, and authority is an expression of legitimacy. Giddens (1990) is very helpful in illuminating these two constructs. Confidence in the police may be regarded as “reliability in the performance of its functions.” It rests on assumptions about their record of performance that are “inductively deduced” (see Giddens 1990: 29–36). Confidence is won, or lost, based on effectiveness, which, in the case of the police, may be measured primarily, but not solely, in terms of the extent to which they are successful in the prevention and control of crime.

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Policing in Jamaica was and still is largely conducted behind a veil of secrecy. Organized in this way, policing must therefore operate on trust, a trust that its operatives will use force protectively and lawfully, not repressively and illegally. Policing usually becomes most visible when it fails. It is unveiled when incidents of the abuse of power, such as the unnecessary killing of suspects and corruption scandals, are exposed in the press. This pattern generates distrust in what is already a low trust society. It suggests that the police cannot be trusted with the authority to use force. Yet, as Klockars (1985: 9–13) has noted, the authority to use force is the defining feature of police work. Given how its relationship to the public and the system of accountability are currently structured, policing is not designed as a system that perpetuates trust— even when the system demonstrates some capacity for self-correction. The nature of police work and its relationship to various segments of the public, particularly the excluded urban poor, do not generate trust. Moreover, new alternatives to the professional state police present problems for any attempt to rebuild public trust in the official system of policing. Historically, the legitimacy of police action and the trust of the people were grounded in the police force’s monopoly on policing and the absence of real or even imagined alternatives to it. Now there are both imagined alternatives to the existing style of official state policing for which lobby groups actively campaign (this usually takes the form of support for community policing), and real alternatives for the upper strata (the private security firms) and the urban poor (the gangs and organized crime networks that dominate some of these communities and which offer “policing” services). In other words, reliance on the police may now be replaced with reliance on private security, but this is not a solution that is available to all. Similarly, reliance on the police may be replaced by confidence in the local gang leader as an alternative agent of crime prevention and control, but only within the boundaries of one’s community, as gangs tend to direct crime toward other areas. Reliance on gang leaders does not, however, represent a democratic alternative. While reputed to be more responsive and reliable than the Police Force, gangs also tend to be brutal and unaccountable. Sections of the society will therefore continue to press for the democratization of the JCF, which involves not only rebuilding trust as a strategic objective, but also reducing the need for blind trust by promoting greater transparency.

Democracy and Modernization The JCF Reform Project has had strong elements of democratization, such as a commitment to Community-Based Policing (BPS), a human rights

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agenda, greater responsiveness of the public, and improved systems of accountability.11 It still has these elements, but in its current phase, the process has been renamed the Modernization Program. This reflects a possible change in thinking in respect to the goals of the process, which have been brought more in line with the ideas of the New Public Management (NPM), and perhaps the intellectual dominance of the same foreign experts associated with the development of NPM in the design of the current phase of the project. Much has been written about modernity and modernization. Lyon informs us that, as early as the fifth century, the Latin word modernus was used “to distinguish the official Christian present from the pagan Roman past” (Lyon 1999: 25). In its origins, it was thus hardly a value-free term. As a set of ideas, modernization is essentially an Enlightenment term associated with confidence in technologically driven economic development and social engineering. As a socio-political reality, it is associated with the social order and political arrangements that emerged in Europe after 1700, including parliamentary democracy; an impersonal, impartial, procedurally standardized and professional state bureaucracy; and, consistent with this, the formation of “professional” police services as we now know them. These institutional arrangements have their mature expressions in what are now called the developed countries of the North. We thus associate modernization with the universalization of the European and North American pattern of development, that is, with the export of the principles of liberal democratic government, “good governance” and “good policing.” The export of these ideas was experienced in the Caribbean and many of the former colonies as institutional transplantation—a process that was not infrequently accompanied by the suppression and/or the subordination of local emergent state forms that have been labelled traditional to distinguish them from the modern European. If what is regarded as potentially universal is not carefully distilled to the right level of generality, and if transfer is not open to the realities of the receiving societies, then modernization easily becomes Westernization, or more narrowly Anglicization or Americanization— that is, the crude imposition of the exact forms and methods of the exporting societies onto Caribbean culture. Modernization discourses may thus direct, establish and legitimize the sites of knowledge about the process of modernization and thereby locate the position of the foreign expert in this process. Often there is no post-modern doubt, no hint of an uncertainty that opens the mind to new possibilities generated by other experiences and cultures. The place of the foreign expert thus becomes privileged and hierarchically located. She or he is an expert by the dint of her or his own lived experiences in the modern world and knowledge

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of the world’s institutional practices. Foreign experts are thus, in their selfrepresentation, the embodiment of modernization. Applied to policing, the Modernization Program in effect represents a shift in the legitimacy discourse. Under this program, confidence is to be secured by improved performance via technical and managerial transformations; it is not primarily realized by the democratization of police relationships to the Jamaican public. The latter, that is democratization, does not disappear; it is simply not emphasized under the Modernization Program. Relevance of Foreign Assistance What is then required of the foreign expert from the North is the ability to see which northern experiences are universally applicable, and thus exportable, and which are not (see Heyman 1997). It may be generally accepted that claims to universal applicability are best informed by systematic cross-cultural and cross-system studies, and that an understanding of the socio-political context in the receiving country is important. In practice, however, it often appears that no knowledge of these countries is required in order to determine what is truly universal or even how the universal may be applied. If that which is instructive is only to be distilled from the experiences of the developed countries, then logical consistency would dictate that knowledge of the conditions in the receiving countries is of lesser importance or, perhaps, even of little importance. This seems to be accepted, as the behavior of both the foreign and the Jamaican sides have been largely consistent with this attitude. It is very easy to lapse into this old pattern of behavior and thought.12 The PERF (2001) report illustrates this point. It took just five days of work “in country” to complete this report—which urged the Jamaican government to make strategic commitments in reorganizing its security forces and reallocating its scarce resources. Administrative and Technological Changes Concerning the practice of modernization, the emphasis seems to be on administrative changes that are informed by the New Public Management (NMP), and on technological applications aimed at improving the investigative processes. NPM is fixed on efficiency and on reducing the differences between the public and the private sector in law enforcement. It involves, among other things, shifting from the traditional rule-driven approach of the civil service to a focus on getting results (see Ferguson 2002: 15; Leishman, Cope, and Starie 1996: 11). A performance- and outcome-orientated approach is good, but in the case of the police this has to be tempered by a careful atten-

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tion to the means by which the outcomes are obtained. If crime-fighting methods that disregard the rights of citizens are winked at, then the problematic relations with the population that are at the core of the ineffectiveness of the Police Force will be reinforced. The managerial language of NPM is not a rights-sensitive language. In this language, the citizen-as-user-of-police-services is simply a client of the police. It is not clear if the word “client” applies to victims only, or is extended to suspects. In contrast, “citizen” is a democratic category that applies to both victim and suspect and is a category connoting rights that are inscribed in law. A second aspect of modernization is the use of more advanced technologies in policing. The Jamaican police find this aspect very appealing. Technological sophistication may improve the status ranking and appeal of their occupation. This aspect was highlighted in the “8-point murder control plan” that was developed by the international police officers and was presented to the Jamaican public in early 2006. The plan was multi-facetted, but its main thrust was clearly on technological advancements. As reported in the Daily Gleaner and reproduced by Caribbean News, “The plan will also seek to improve the use of forensic science in criminal investigation through the introduction of new policies, technologies and procedures. A digital fingerprinting system (is) to be put in place and four police personnel were in France receiving training to effectively operate the new system.”13 Such changes are expected to result in improved outcomes, as anticipated by deterrence theory. If successful, they would end the impunity that most killers and those engaged in high-end street crimes now enjoy. However, given the resource constraints of the government and the inability to properly maintain the existing forensic labs and other technical support systems, high priced solutions are not likely to be financially sustainable. Only if these measures are introduced in a manner that is sustainable will this technological modernization of the investigative process result in greater efficiency and perhaps effectiveness. Respectful and Relevant Foreign Assistance A police transformation project that emphasizes democratization is a somewhat different matter. If the problem is defined as a legitimacy deficit, rooted in the relationships and practices of the colonial past that have persisted and are reinforced in new ways in the present, then the solution is to correct the political relationship between state and citizen. In this case, the relationship to the foreign expert would be quite different. This analysis implies that local knowledge is important and suggests a greater scope for selfdirected solutions that must take into account the realities of the global

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environment. In this context, the foreign expert is a respected and useful partner, but not necessarily the ultimate authority. Modernization and democracy have thus far been set in a contrived tension with one another in order to highlight their contrasting points of emphasis in Jamaican police reform. This tension also helps to locate the place of the foreign expert in the reform process. For example, local experts fixed on democratic transformation might have emphasized different elements of the eightpoint murder control plan already noted above. They might have highlighted the value of socially isolating the organized crime networks by weakening their social and political ties to the inner-city communities that they dominate and the national institutions they have corrupted. Based on their knowledge of the high-crime communities, the local experts may view the primary problem as the imbalance of power evidenced between organized crime networks and these communities, and between the police and communities of the poor. They might then seek to alter the balance of power between the police and the poor as an important element in any strategy aimed at breaking the power of organized crime.14 If the fundamental challenge of reform is to resolve the issue of police legitimacy, then developing confidence and trust in the institution are critical goals. Externally imposed change-agents have enjoyed great trust and confidence (based on their prior record). This was true of the leadership of the first phase of the reform efforts, that is, former Commissioner Col. Trevor MacMillan, and is now true of the senior international officers.15 However, individual change-agents have been unable to transfer the trust and confidence placed in them as individuals into confidence in the institution, or to develop trust-perpetuating systems, or, better still, to remove the need for trust by delivering greater transparency in administrative and operational accountability. This remains the challenge of change. Democratization helps to resolve legitimacy problems by reducing the need for trust, and it builds confidence via an improved effectiveness that is derived from cooperation with the people. The outcome of this process is highly dependent on the quality of its leadership. Moreover, this is how the role of leadership, including the leadership of the international officers, ought to be defined.

Foreign Assistance in a Jamaican Context Having described the ideas associated with the process of cooperation with international partners, we may now amplify the context in which cooperation is taking place. This will allow a better appreciation of the challenges of and the basis for cooperation.

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The situation in Jamaica may be characterized as a crisis of public safety (see Harriott 2002). This is quite different from a crisis of state security, or a crisis of generalized state failure or institutional collapse. It specifically refers to the inability of the responsible state institutions to adequately protect the citizenry from criminal victimization.16 It is characterized by an inability to effectively enforce the law and protect the basic rights of the people, particularly the right to life. In 2005, the homicide rate reached an all-time high of 64 incidents per 100,000 citizens. The crime problem is compounded by the transnational character of the major criminal networks. Attracted by the international drug markets since the 1980s, the major Jamaican crime networks have become transnational. Some of these networks have enjoyed considerable success and continue to be important players in the illegal drug trade. American agencies estimate that in the year 2000, some 100–120 metric tons of cocaine valued at $4 billion to $4.5 billion (US) were shipped to the United States by way of Jamaica.17 In 2005, the volume of illicit drugs shipped via Jamaica was estimated at only 10 tons.18 These figures seem too volatile and may suggest that there are problems with the estimates provided by some of the agencies, but not necessarily with the trends. With the softening of the U.S. cocaine market and the corresponding decline in the volume of drugs shipped to the United States via the region, Jamaica’s share of the general drug trade has declined. In 2004, Jamaica accounted for 11 percent of all the cocaine seized in the region.19 However, while the shipment of drugs to the United States has declined, trafficking to Europe from the region has increased. These transnational networks are able to use their criminally acquired wealth to corrupt critical institutions, including the police. They are also able to corruptly influence poor urban communities by providing welfare support for young people and engaging in a range of social marketing projects, which buys them a protective shield. This makes policing in general somewhat ineffective, and the policing of the high-violence inner-city communities particularly problematic. Impact of the Jamaican Crime Problem From European and American perspectives, the primary danger of Jamaican transnational crime networks has been drug trafficking and criminal violence. More recently, however, there has been some concern with the possibility of Jamaican transnational organized crime forming working relationships with international terrorism.20 The London bombings of July 2005 may have further stimulated exercises of the imagination regarding the prospect of this more troubling kind of Jamaican security threat to the UK and the United

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States. The investigation of these bombings revealed that one of the bombers, Germaine Lindsay, was born in Jamaica. A radical Muslim cleric by the name of Sheikh Addullah el-Faisal, who was accused of instigating terrorist attacks on the UK and inciting racial hatred, was also born in Jamaica. Prior to this, Lee Boyd Malvo, a Jamaican teenage boy in partnership with an adult American mentor, was involved in the sniper attacks of 2002 that killed thirteen unsuspecting Americans in the United States.21 None of these cases suggests the slightest hint of a connection between organized crime and international terrorism. They do, however, tend to fuel speculation about Jamaica as a source of additional violent threats and transnational crime as a likely source of these problems. Transnational crime networks, therefore, present both the Caribbean and the major drug-consuming countries of Europe and North America with some difficult problems (real and imagined). The North has tried to solve or mitigate these problems by the deportation of Jamaicans and other residents in these countries who are convicted for criminal offences or violations of their immigration laws. Between 2001 and 2004, some 13,413 persons were deported to Jamaica.22 Most of these persons were deported for violations of immigration laws. A significant proportion of all deportees were convicted of either drug-defined or drug-related crimes. For the period 2001–2004, approximately 38 percent were deported for drug-defined offences. On the available evidence, most of these persons were not violent criminals. Those that were convicted for violent crimes—with the exception of robbery—accounted for some 11 percent of all of the deportees.23 However, the impact or potential impact of these few on a small society should not be underestimated. Criminal violence has had a considerable impact on different aspects of life in Jamaica. For example, the estimated annual cost of treating the direct effects of violent crimes in Jamaica is at least the equivalent of approximately 4 percent of its GDP. Researchers at the World Bank estimate that if Jamaica were to reduce its homicide rates to the level of Costa Rica, that is, approximately eight incidents per 100,000 citizens, this would result in GDP growth of 5.4 percent.24 For Jamaica, crime is thus a critical developmental issue, and cooperation with its international development partners is of considerable importance for the effective control of crime.

Basis of International Cooperation and Partnerships It is against this backdrop of an increasingly complex crime problem, with a pronounced transnational character, that a number of public figures and in-

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fluential civic organizations have repeatedly called on the Jamaican government to seek international support—in the form of secondments from foreign police services to the JCF. Tourism interests, in particular, have been understandably most vocal in making these calls.25 This demand suggests a profound lack of confidence in the JCF. It is grounded in a popular view that the JCF is too corrupt and incompetent to effectively control the crime problem.26 The JCF also suffers from some critical capability deficits that may require short-term international assistance to quickly reduce the effects of these deficits. The widely recognized deficits in its investigative capabilities are examples of this.27 Moreover, it is felt that there is a political value in involving foreign governments and agencies in crime control. This line of argument runs in two directions. The first is that foreign police involvement should deepen the interest of the sending countries and serve to bolster the weak political will of the Jamaican administration. The second is that this new level of involvement of powerful international allies may serve to deflect the human rights concerns of local and international organizations and increase the degrees of freedom for police action. In respect to the first point, external involvement may be expected to bolster those within the political administration who are most supportive of police transformation and effective crime control. Anecdotal evidence suggests that this has indeed occurred. This is an anticipated positive impact. With respect to the second line of argument, human rights concerns, there is an anticipated negative effect of external involvement that may be welcomed by some. It is expected that when abuses and the use of violence are considered by the police to be appropriate situational responses, they will now have the understanding and support of the major international powers, thus providing a shield against accusations of human rights violations. The international officers who have been recruited appear to be strong on legal procedural integrity, but the above is not an unimaginable outcome and thus a matter to be monitored. Jamaican Reception of Foreign Assistance Despite the historically strong nationalism in the political elite and the middle strata from which the members of the political elite are primarily drawn, the international police officers entered what was generally a welcoming environment. Among police officers, however, the situation was more mixed. The lower ranks have been fairly welcoming, reflecting some recognition of the need for change, but among the senior officers there was, and continues to be, resistance, some of which is quite understandably grounded in the fear that an

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opening-up of appointments at this level of the Force may reduce their prospects for promotion or expose them to difficult challenges to their authority. For example, some six months after arriving in Jamaica as an Assistant Commissioner of Police in charge of Community Policing, one of the international officers reported that despite his repeated efforts, he had not been able to get a meeting with the Commissioner of Police.28 Yet the Corporate Strategy of the JCF states that community policing is a centerpiece of its strategy for change. It states, “Community policing will be accorded a high priority as a means of effecting a transition to a more service-oriented and consensus-building style of policing better anchored in democratic values of participation, accountability, responsibility and legality.”29 For some of the senior officers, the cultivation of deeper ties with their international partners was primarily motivated by a desire for financial support and increased assistance that would help to improve their conditions of work and yield greater access to more advanced technological support and improved prospects for training. This is what modernization means to them. These are quite valid concerns, but for these officers international support is not about the transformation of the style and method of the work of the JCF. There is some recognition of the real need for international cooperation given the transnational character of Jamaican crime, but the political constituency for direct involvement of international police officers as members of the JCF is very unstable. Unequal Cooperation Jamaican interests are not a sufficient basis for strategic cooperation. Cooperation must be grounded in shared interests with the international partners who are affected by the Jamaican crime networks that operate in their countries, their own transnational crime networks that operate in Jamaica, and/or third-party transnational networks that operate in the interested states. This mutuality of interests is recognized in some official circles.30 But despite the clear mutual interests, the importance of more meaningful cooperation in crime control is not a generally accepted view in Europe and North America. An alternative view is that the Caribbean is insignificant. Any effort to partner with the region is thus regarded as a waste of resources as, due to incapacity, incompetence, corruption or any combination of the three, the result of any cooperation is not expected to be commensurate with the effort. This mentality yields distrustful and disrespectful attitudes and undermines cooperation. It is expressed even in the naming of the content of the relationship as “assistance.” “Assistance” suggests a flow of benefits in a single direction. This notion is usually accompanied by an attitude that disparages

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the “recipient” of this assistance and makes for poor relations and unsuccessful outcomes. The inequalities of power in the relationship and histories of dependency and assistance may even be projected on to a specific instance (as is the case in the security sphere) in which the burdens are not unequally shared or are even reversed.31 Naming reflects the real inequalities of power. It is also symbolic and, as hinted above, may be treated as a carrier of political values and the aspirations for the relationships and processes. Extent and Forms of Cooperation Despite the historical difficulties, there are various expressions of this cooperation. In the immediate post-Independence period and prior to globalization, policing cooperation with international partners was largely assistance that took the form of training, advisory services, financial support and other resource transfers. In the era of globalization, cooperation has become more mutually beneficial; therefore, as noted above, to regard it as assistance is a misrepresentation. New elements include cooperation on transnational investigations and a renewal of direct officership (which ended shortly after Independence in 1962). British police officers have taken up very senior commands in a number of countries of the region, such as Trinidad, Tobago and Jamaica, and before that, in St. Kitts and Nevis.32 Contrary to the fears of some British and Caribbean officials, these appointments are taking place without any public reference to a recolonization of the region or a racial discourse. This is a vulnerability of the reform project that has not been exploited—at least not yet. These appointments are often viewed in part as an admission of the failure of the Jamaican authorities to affect the necessary post-colonial transformation and professionalization of our police services, and partly as worthy cooperation that is appropriate in a context of globalization and the obviously transnational character of high-end crime in our respective countries. As discussed in Chapter 5, there are two major activities or projects involving international cooperation. These are Operation Kingfish, which is principally aimed at organized crime, and the Grant’s Pen community policing project. With respect to the first, Britain is the main international partner, and with respect to the second, the Americans are the primary partners with the Police Executive Research Forum (PERF) being the implementing agency. Both have been publicized as big successes. These projects represent an unacknowledged shift from the idea of a grand strategic transformation that is designed and managed from the top to demonstrative practices that are also designed at the top but which are managed closer to the point of service delivery. This approach involves working in more clearly defined spheres, trying to

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change the methods of work, and demonstrating success in critical areas of the work of the Force. It represents a more modest and workable approach to transformation that is better grounded in an understanding of the nature and extent of the problems that beset the Force. This essay focuses on the second of the two above-mentioned projects, that is, the Grant’s Pen Community Based Policing (CBP) project.

The Grant’s Pen Project There are several reasons for highlighting this project. As noted above, according to the Corporate Strategy of the JCF (2000 and 2005), CBP is at the centre of the transformation of the JCF. The logic of this position is appealing, as it is the transformation of the relationship between the JCF and the population, particularly the relationship with urban poor which lies at the heart of the problem of policing in Jamaica and is therefore one of the critical things which must be changed. CBP is precisely about changing the relationship between the police and the people and anchoring it in democratic principles. This emphasis on CBP, as described in the Corporate Strategy, has, however, not been reflected in real priorities and allocation of resources. It has therefore been the foreign partners of the JCF who have sought to give this an added thrust. This is what makes the efforts at CBP a good test case of the impact of external influence on the process of change. Given the nature of CBP, the project presents a good opportunity for the inclusion of the marginalized urban poor (who live in the high violence communities), some of whom benefit from criminal domination of their communities, but most of whom are its victims. Inclusion may begin with treating them with respect and progressing to accepting their right of participation and entitlement to some measure of police accountability. It must also involve regarding them as more than just sources of information for traditional case solving, as is typically the case; the poor must also come to be seen as sources of local knowledge that may aid problem solving. It is problem solving that turns around troubled communities and, by this process, contributes to resolving the issue of the poor relations between the people and the police. CBP also allows a testing of the idea that improvements in the relations between police and community result in more effective crime control. Some Chances of Success Reliable partnerships are a condition for success. The Jamaican state may have the capacity to erect and manage local projects of this sort, but its ability to replicate such a project in sufficiently large numbers of communities and to

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sustain them on its own is doubtful. The problem is not just a matter of resources. It is also a problem of moral authority, that is, a profound distrust of state authority.33 These problems may be mitigated by partnerships with credible non-state actors. In the case of the Grant’s Pen project, all of the key categories of partners have been included and have given active support to the project. These partners include the local private sector, NGOs, churches from within and in close proximity to the community and of different denominations and social classes, political parties, and foreign agencies. Such partnerships bring considerable financial resources to the project and multiply the social and political capital available to it. To its credit, the JCF has a history of attempts at building good community relations with the project community. In an earlier, but not too distant past, senior commanders at the divisional level had devoted considerable time and effort to improving police-citizens relations and respecting citizen’s rights. The community and the police had, therefore, earlier glimpsed the possibilities of forging a new type of relationship. The Grant’s Pen project is small in scale. Its geographic boundaries are very limited and the population of the community is 8,173.34 The public safety problems of the community, such as its volume of serious crimes and the power of the local gangs, are quite manageable, although the general social problems are quite acute. At the time of writing, the number of police officers assigned to the project was approximately fifty. These are to be followed by another fifty constables. At fifty officers, the police to population ratio for the project area is 1:140. This is almost two and one half times higher than the national ratio of 1:334, and at 100, it would be 1:70 or approximately five times higher than the national ratio. Administratively the needed capacities are well within the possibilities of the police force and its partners. For the above reasons, the conditions for the success of the Grant’s Pen CBP project should be considered good.35 The project is thus vital to the strategy of change, as, if it is successful, it would provide a useful learning environment for the police, even if it were not replicable. Therein lies its significance for the larger process of transformation. On the other hand, if such a project is unable to succeed, then international cooperation for police transformation is unlikely to succeed in transforming police-citizen relations and in having a significant positive impact in the high-crime communities of the urban poor. Failure would mean perhaps an adjustment on the part of the international officers to support for policing-as-usual. Challenges The Grant’s Pen community, which is located in the capital city of Kingston, has all of the features of a typical community of the urban poor. These

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features include high levels of poverty, high unemployment and underemployment rates, poor housing stock and informal tenure (that is, multiple deprivations), strong party attachments in politically homogenous areas (subsections of the community), and high levels of ordinary criminal violence and occasional political violence. However, unlike many of these communities of the urban poor, Grant’s Pen is encircled by middle-class communities. This latter feature affords it some opportunities, such as access to lower wage domestic service jobs, and yields considerable political attention. As is typically the case in these communities, there is a high level of distrust of the police. This distrust is grounded in recent experiences and well-known tales of past mistreatment and violation of the rights of community members— criminals and ordinary citizens alike.

The Process: Community Involvement The success or failure of the Grant’s Pen project ultimately hinges on the extent and quality of community participation. Any attempt to facilitate the public’s meaningful participation in the design and direction of the program signals an attempt to treat people differently, recognizing their rights as citizens and empowering them to assist in securing their community. Indeed, the importance of the participation of the people as full and respected partners with the police is understood by USAID, which is the main international partner in this project. As stated in their official documentation, “The Grant’s Pen activity incorporates elements of both ‘security’ and ‘participation,’ requiring active participation by community residents in cooperation with the police. The activity under the previous strategy demonstrated that community policing can reduce crime and violence when carried out effectively according to its underlying principle of partnership with the community” (USAID/J-CAR 2005-09: 16–17). Community participation is emphasized for both practical and ideological reasons: it is instrumental as an element of crime control, and is one of the main principles of democracy. To the extent that only crime control is valued by the local project partner (the JCF), there will likely be long-term difficulties for such a project, as accountability to and power sharing with the community is unlikely to be promoted unless these democratic ideas are valued in and of themselves. These democratic elements carry no logical force, and the police have no legal obligation to accept the outcomes of the deliberations involving the citizens. The citizens are simply expected to give information and be the “eyes and ears” of the police. This view is unfortunately fairly prevalent in the Force. Real participation that treats the citizens as responsible partners will instead seek to have community safety anchored in greater citizen responsibility and administration.

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Ensuring Participation Ensuring meaningful participation would entail erecting structures of local accountability with influence on the police and shared power that is reinforced by legal authority. The centralized nature of the police and the Jamaican state makes this difficult. Such measures would have to be accompanied by greater decentralization of the JCF and indeed of the state and local systems of governance. Local government has very limited power in Jamaica and local police units are not accountable to it. For example, there are no local administrative structures backed by the force of law that require the police to report and be held accountable to the local elected authorities for their performance. Preliminary work in erecting the participatory structures was systematically done by one of the partners, the Kingston Restoration Company (KRC), a respected Non Governmental Organization (NGO) that has consistently pursued a participatory method of renewal in other communities with good results. For example, during the period of the project, it helped the community to establish a well-run, self-managed library. Its work has helped to mediate police engagement with the citizens of the area. There are, however, always difficulties with participatory processes involving actors of different status who are locked in asymmetric power relations. As the participatory structures have no legal authority, they are easily ignored if they are not “friendly” to the police. The tradition of patron-client political mobilization tends to have profound effects on the expectations of the people and notions of their role. Many turn up simply to receive, not to contribute. Nevertheless, at times, persons of real leadership emerge who are dedicated to the development of their communities and who are able to avoid political conflicts and transcend social divisions. Without such leadership, no community project is likely to succeed. Thankfully, with regard to the Grant’s Pen project, the political divisions have been successfully managed and the social divisions bridged. PERF, as the implementing agency, and the American Chamber of Commerce, as one of the sponsoring non-government groups, thus entered Grant’s Pen in a context where there were good conditions for community participation and inclusion. They simply had to build on the work of the KRC and prior policing efforts. In the early stages of the process, PERF operatives put considerable effort into developing community participation despite the many challenges associated with it, such as dealing with the demands and expectations of people whose needs are great. Considerable local knowledge and political skills are required to successfully navigate these waters and to effect change among the people themselves as a condition for healthy social relations with the partners and the police.

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Weakened by the challenges, participation may become a formality, even when, as in the case of the Grant’s Pen project, its encouragement by the implementing agencies is a requirement for contract fulfilment. Given this requirement, after the participatory process has lost its momentum, the implementing agencies may lapse into participation that is only theoretical while making declarations of success. Public relations may substitute for substantive achievements with regard to citizen involvement and ownership of the project. The people are usually quick to sense this and to accordingly redefine their relationship to the project. If preparing the community is one critical element of the process, preparing the police is an equally important element. This is done by the training and education of those involved in the project, helping them to understand the concept of community-based policing and see its possibilities. This is training that is designed to produce change agents, that is, police officers with the knowledge, commitment and standing within the Force to truly make the program a success. The difficulty with this process is that often the trainees do not see the possibilities of CBP for their own communities. As the training is done abroad and is informed mainly by North American experiences, doubt remains among JCF operatives regarding the applicability of CBP to Jamaican inner-city conditions. The lessons of local attempts, including the successes in these conditions, have not been analyzed and filtered into the training process. CBP is thus largely seen as idealistic and unworkable in the tough conditions of Jamaican “inner-city” communities. This problem could have been overcome by the inclusion of those community policing officers who were involved in the 1995–1996 experiments and who had achieved significant successes in Kingston’s high violence communities.36 However, this was never done. Everything was to be built on a clean slate—with constant references to the most successful American cases. Thus, the apparent inconsistencies between the content of their training in the United States and the way their work within Grant’s Pen is conducted may be explained by how they read the appropriate differences in application of the concepts in the two contrasting environments. The CBP of the JCF operatives is less grounded in participation, power sharing and respect for the rights of the citizens. In order for CBP to be successful in Grant’s Pen, police training and education must include on-going distillation of local experiences, greater self-knowledge, and the encouragement of policing innovation. Incentives for Change If it is to succeed, the Grant’s Pen project, like any other project for change, must carry in its design powerful incentives for change. This applies to the

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receiving community. It is easy to assume that they have many disincentives to remain with the status quo of insecurity and violence, but there are also aspects to the problem that benefit some of these communities. For example, the protection services that are provided by the leader of the local organized crime network are often more reliable than the protection of the police. Many citizens, therefore, expect incentives for change (material and psychological), such as improved state services, respect for their rights, and security, as well as improved access to state and non-state resources for community development more generally. They expect a peace and cooperation dividend from the state precisely because they now enjoy some benefits from the organized crime networks that dominate their communities. At a minimum, they do not expect to be worse off and may be expected to resist any effort to make them so, such as eliminating the leaders of the gangs, thereby removing their protective (albeit criminal) shield and replacing it with ineffective policing that is unable to protect them from rape and other forms of criminal victimization. The need for incentives applies even more to the police. With respect to this latter group, the project has brought better working conditions in the form of a well-appointed model station with all of the basic amenities and an aesthetically pleasing environment. Reform is thus now associated with an improvement in their welfare. This is a new element in the modernization process. By coupling CBP with a model police station, the project pulls together what are two separate threads in police reform elsewhere. In Brazil, for example, their program of model stations is separated from CBP, as these two currents of their reform program are located in two separate police services (see Husain Chapter 3). Possible Outcomes As noted above, there has been much public relations activity about the success of the Grant’s Pen project. However, no rigorous evaluation of the project has been done. From its earliest stages, proposals were made to design and implement an evaluation process that would seek to quantify the changes. This meant taking baseline measurements on the critical indicators of success, such as rates of criminal victimization, levels of reporting to the police, levels of trust of the police, and community satisfaction with police services. This type of evaluation was rejected in favor of less rigorous and “softer” evaluations. For example, concerning the attitudes of the citizens, surveys were rejected in favor of focus group discussions, although similar work had been done before.37 A similar approach was taken by British experts in evaluating the earlier British-supported CBP projects.

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Much is at stake for the design and implementation teams. AID professionals and other consultants wish to associate with a project that has succeeded in a tough environment. This is good for the agency and for the careers of the professionals who are involved in the project. Rigorous evaluations put at risk the public relations value of the project and, perhaps, its fund-raising and other goals. The only hard data that are therefore available are on reported crimes.38 After one year of project activity, in 2006, the number of homicides that were committed in the project community declined from 15 incidents (183 incidents per 100,000 citizens in 2005) to 3 incidents (37/100,000). Shootings have similarly declined, but other categories of serious crime such as rape and robbery have shown marked increases, indicating that the community has not experienced a generalized decline in serious crimes.39 If these outcomes were primarily due to the CBP experiment, then the selective effect of the program would be in need of explanation. These data show that significant reductions in the rate of serious crimes are possible. However, the reductions in the rate of homicide and other serious crimes were national. In 2006, Jamaica’s homicide rate declined by 20 percent, and its robbery rate declined by 9 percent.40 Moreover, there were even more dramatic reductions in the homicide rate for more violent communities than Grant’s Pen, in which there were no community-based policing activities.41 One should therefore be cautious in claiming the results in Grant’s Pen as being primarily the outcome of the project. The increased and permanent police presence in the community, regardless of the style of policing, may have had a deterrent effect on some or all types of crime, but this is yet to be determined. If the decline in the rate of violent crimes is an outcome of the project, then a major test of the project will be the sustainability of low rates of serious crimes. Sustained reductions in crime will necessitate real changes in style and methods of work of the JCF. One should not overstate the case for the impact of policing on crime. The limitations of policing are well known (Bayley 1994). Moreover, as stated above, other communities have experienced a decline in crime rates even while being serviced by the existing ineffective methods of policing. Yet in the high crime conditions of Jamaica, there is considerable room for a reformed police force, which adopts a style of policing that reduces the alienation of the people from the police, to have a greater independent impact on the crime rate. In the project area, as is usually the case with other CBP projects in Jamaica, people tended to report less abusive behaviour on the part of the police in the early stages of the project. If, however, the efforts to implement CBP have put a brake on the tendency of the police to abuse their powers, this has been a

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purely local outcome. Nationally, there was a marked increase in the rate of police killings in 2006. There were 227 such killings (8.5 incidents per 100,000 citizens) representing a 10.7 percent increase relative to the number of incidents recorded by the police in 2005 (205), and a return to a rate of police killings that has not been experienced since the early 1980s.42 In this regard, the facts would seem to indicate that the Grant’s Pen project is swimming against the tide. More generally, the Grant’s Pen experience has thus far demonstrated the possibilities for CBP. It suggests that much can be accomplished.

Conclusion The cooperation efforts have renewed the promise of a more competent, rights-regarding, effective and professional police service. The major collaborative projects have popular appeal and have achieved some results. Operation Kingfish has generated some confidence that the Force is able to get results and to apprehend some of the more successful criminals who were regarded by the population as protected and above the law. Grant’s Pen has been a public relations success and has demonstrated the possibilities for improved community safety and a new type of police-citizen relations. It also holds good possibilities for developing the kind of societal democracy that would minimize the alienation of the citizens from the state and particularly the police. A Jamaicanized CBP or appropriate form of democratic policing could serve as a bridge between the state agencies and their high institutional politics, and the societal or civic politics of ensuring that these agencies actually serve the interests of the people in its interaction with them at the community level. These are the promises. The international officers have been associated with these successes—albeit prematurely announced. Media displays of new methods of investigative work that reveal a new emphasis on painstaking investigative work that is supported by forensic science may be expected to have a positive impact on public opinion and to signal a reduced reliance on dirty methods—although, as noted above, policing killings have increased dramatically.43 If this high rate of police killing develops into a clear tendency, then it may be expected that the integrity to the program of change and the role of the international officers as agents of democratic change will be called into question. Such a tendency would suggest that democratic change is being de-emphasised in favor of old methods of crime fighting. Operation Kingfish and the Grant’s Pen project are the two best-known faces of the program of international cooperation. To get the desired outcomes, the international partners have set up these two projects in near

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hothouse conditions. There is a danger here that these projects may follow the general pattern in government that when structures do not work they are circumvented by the setting up of special units or parallel structures. This postpones confrontation with the difficult issues of transforming an ineffective state bureaucracy. Kingfish is a “vetted unit.” Its members are screened to ensure that the unit is free of corruption. They tend to be better educated, better trained and to perform better than their colleagues in the Force do. Its methods of work are not generalized and may not be applicable to the main investigative units of the JCF unless these units are transformed. The isolation of Kingfish is forced upon it by the level of corruption in the Force. Thus, even its successes signal the difficult prospects for the transformation of the larger police force. Grant’s Pen, as a model, similarly exhibits hothouse characteristics, that is, the model station, the high police density and other elements cannot be replicated in a sufficiently large number of high violence communities. It is too early to claim that the model projects discussed above have succeeded, but they underline the importance of international cooperation for any program of police transformation in Jamaica. They show that despite the difficult challenges, successful change is possible. However, a real danger with transformative projects of these types is that, rather than being learning environments and models to be replicated, they may instead become isolated enclaves that are neutralized (in terms of their transformative influence) as unrealistic, unworkable, and thus symbols of the limits of international cooperation as an instrument of police transformation. On such a worst-case scenario, the international officers may then retreat into normal policing, becoming simply cogs in its wheel with no moral or formal authority to transform the JCF. Successful transformation and effective use of international cooperation for democratic police transformation requires bold political action to install new systems of governance with respect to public safety and a willingness to take the risks that are involved in ensuring that the needed police reforms are executed. This is the shared responsibility of Jamaican citizens and the political administration of the country.

Notes 1. Race representation in the police and other security services is a highly emotive issue in plural Trinidad and Tobago, and Guyana, but is not regarded as a problem in many of the other territories including Jamaica. In some forces, there are caps on the proportion of females that may be recruited. Class representation in the Jamaica Constabulary Force (JCF) is occasionally presented as being problematic. Senior police officers have publicly lamented the under-representation of persons of middle strata ori-

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gins in the JCF. This, however, should not be interpreted as a call for middle strata leadership. 2. The homicide rate is computed from data on reported crimes that is provided by the Jamaica Constabulary Force. A report on this survey may be found in Harriott (2003: 42). 3. See Daily Gleaner, June 6, 2005. 4. There are different expressions of this idea. For Payne and Sutton (1999), British colonialism is the font of Caribbean democracy. They and others argue that British colonialism left a legacy of democracy because it provided for a period of “tutelary democracy” prior to Independence. On the other hand, C. L. R. James, while being very critical of the state of Caribbean democracy at the dawn of Independence and the profoundly undemocratic nature of colonial rule, suggests that relative to other colonialisms, the British cultivated stronger democratic structures. See his essay titled The Mass Party in Party Politics in the West Indies. circa 1962. 5. See for example Paton (2004) for a discussion of the expression of these interests and the attendant conflicts between the Jamaican parliament on one hand and the Governor and the British colonial authorities on the other hand—on matters such as law making and prison reform. 6. This is generally understood in the discipline of political science. See, however, Luckham, Goetz, and Kaldor 2003, and A. Haywood 1994. Political Ideas and Concepts: An Introduction. London: MacMillan. 7. There were precursor nationalist movements such as the Garvey Movement but these did not take root as truly national mass movements and their impact was rather limited. 8. For a discussion of the extent of support for democratic values at the dawn of independence with supporting survey data see Attitudes Toward Democracy by Charles Moskos Jr. and Wendell Bell (1967), and Jamaican Political Leaders: Political Attitudes in a New Nation by Wendell Bell (1964). 9. Among significant sections of the population, democracy may be primarily valued as an instrumental good. They are thus prepared to compromise with authoritarian values—in some spheres such as crime control—if the compromise yields better results. 10. Use of the term “post-colonial” should not be taken to mean that Jamaica has been completely decolonized but rather the end of colonial rule. 11. See Corporate Strategy of the Jamaica Constabulary Force circa 2000; 2005. 12. This is one of the reasons why South-South cooperation in research and the transfer of knowledge in this field are so important. 13. www.caribbeannetnews.com/cgi-script/csArticles/articles/000003/000344.htm - 69k -. 14. This is not to suggest that this is the only viable way, simply that it is might be a more profitable approach. 15. Col. Trevor MacMillan became Commissioner of Police in 1994 and initiated the reform process. This first phase ended with the termination of his contract in 1996. See Harriott (2000) for a discussion of this period. In May 2008 he was appointed Minister of National Security.

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16. This raises some very fundamental issues of incapacity and institutional failure, but a discussion of Jamaica as a fragile state is beyond the scope of this article. 17. These data were reported by the Minister of National Security, Dr. Peter Phillips, in a speech at the University of the West Indies, Mona campus, and were subsequently published in Jamaica The Way Forward – Presentations at the Political Leadership Forum 2005. Kingston: Sir Arthur Lewis Institute of Social and Economic Studies 2006. 18. This estimate was provided by the UNODC and is cited in Crime and Violence in the Caribbean: Trends, Costs, and Policy Options, World Bank Report, 2006. 19. World Bank 2006: 103. 20. This concern has been repeatedly expressed with reference to Jamaica, and in Jamaica, by American experts on terrorism. For example, see a report on a conference presentation by Stephen Flynn in the Daily Observer, June 24, 2004: 1–2. 21. Daily Gleaner, October 27, 2002. 22. The Economic and Social Survey of Jamaica for the respective years. 23. These data are taken from the World Bank Group 2006: 95. Headley (2005) estimates the proportion of deportees from the United States to Jamaica during the period 1997 to early 2003 who were convicted of violent crimes to be approximately 16 percent of all criminal deportees. Those persons who were deported for migration offences are not included in this population (p. 42). 24. World Bank 2006: 45. 25. For example, prominent hotelier Gordon Stewart has repeatedly made these calls. 26. A number of public opinion surveys have been done (including two by the author) all of which report that a majority of the Jamaican population regard the police as corrupt. 27. See the Corporate Strategy of the JCF for an indirect admission of the problem. 28. Personal correspondence, December 2006. 29. Corporate Strategy circa 2000: 4. In the interest of full disclosure, I should explain that I was a member of the drafting team and as I recall it, these words may have been written by me, but the document was a social product that involved many senior members of the JCF and was discussed by many of its members and finally adopted by the Force after approval by the Government as an official policy document. 30. On a visit to the Caribbean in May 2006, Baroness Scotland, the deputy Minister of Home Affairs in the government of the UK expressed a clear recognition of this reality. This was communicated in meetings with Jamaican officials at which the author was present. 31. An example of the latter is the treatment of threat presented by international terrorism. Here the region invests its resources and suffers economic losses (as in the case of Cricket World Cup security) in operating as the “Third Border” of the United States. 32. The government of Guyana has also invited a former Police Chief of New York City to take charge of its police service. 33. See Powell 2006, pages 26–27, for data on the level of trust and confidence in government and state institutions including the police.

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34. This is the population estimate for 2002. 35. By success is meant reduced rates of serious crimes, reduced police violence and human-rights violations, and improved police-community relations. 36. See Harriott 2000: 112–17 for a discussion of these experiences. 37. For example, I.Boxill, N. Smith, and C. Taylor 2004. Grants Pen Residents’ Perception of the Police – Results of Focus Groups conducted for PERF, April–May 2004. 38. I am not aware of any victimization surveys that were done in this community. 39. These rates are computed from data provided by the Statistics Unit of the JCF. They are thus based on the definition of the area that is used by the police. 40. These data were computed from data provided by the Statistics Unit of the JCF. 41. This observation is based on close scrutiny of spatially mapped crime data for Kingston. 42. Computed from data provided by the Statistics Unit of the JCF. 43. I have in mind the recent investigation of the murder of an aged couple in the town of Mandeville which has enjoyed a low rate of violet crimes. It is alleged that they were murdered by agents of organized crime who mistook them for the intended target.

7 Police and Judicial Reform in Chile Lucia Dammert

LATIN AMERICA because of its high levels of institutionalization and low levels of corruption. In addition, the country stands out in its dramatic reduction of poverty, from 40 percent in 1990 to less than 18 percent in 2006. This reduction is due largely to a combination of high growth rates and effective public investment in infrastructure and social programs. Chile has also succeeded in restoring democracy and the rule of law and now scores highest, along with Costa Rica and Uruguay, as one of the three countries scoring highest in Latin America according to Freedom House’s ranking of democracy and freedom.1 It also scores high on Transparency International’s index of public corruption—slightly lower than the United States, but higher than France and Italy.2 Chile is also distinguished from other Latin American countries by its highly regarded police institution: the Carabineros de Chile. Most Latin Americans perceive the Chilean National Police as both professional and effective in controlling and preventing crime, and they are also highly regarded by other police forces in the region. In many countries, especially in Central America, many high-ranking members of the police were trained in Chile and still feel strongly connected to that institution. This has contributed to the Carabineros’ positive image throughout the region. Police specialists in Latin America are intrigued by the process that transformed the Carabineros from a dictatorial institution to a community-oriented one. How have the Carabineros managed to reverse the negative image they had during the era of the military dictatorship? Why is there so little institutional corruption among their ranks? Why do they commit relatively few

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HILE IS CONSIDERED UNIQUE IN

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abuses? In a continent plagued by police institutions better known for their corrupt and abusive practices than for their effectiveness in crime prevention, there exists a strong desire to understand the Chilean “success story.”3 This chapter examines key reforms of both the civilian and the military justice system in six sections. First, it describes the two police institutions of Chile: the Carabineros and the Investigative Police. Second, it provides a historical background, particularly regarding the role of the police during Chile’s military dictatorship. Third, it presents a brief description of the context of violence, crime and fear in Chile, followed by a discussion of the impact of democratization on police institutions. Fourth, it analyzes the relationship between reform of the judicial system and police strategies in general. Fifth, it examines police violence and seeks to understand why this issue remains virtually absent from the political agenda. Finally, it concludes by addressing the challenges that remain as Chileans seek to strengthen the rule of law and tackle the issue of police violence more effectively. Some Preliminary Observations It should be noted at the outset that the Carabineros’ image has always been positive in the eyes of the Chilean citizenry in general. Although part of the military government, they have also played an important and effective role in assisting people in a wide range of social services, such as providing help during natural disasters. For that reason, their positive public image should be considered in a wider context that includes not only police control and prevention but also a variety of social services. This role is unique in Latin America, as in most countries these types of social services are administered by the armed forces. In the mid-1980s, the Carabineros had to confront powerful waves of urban social protest against the dictatorship, a situation aggravated by the economic crisis that exploded in 1983. Their analysis of the situation at the time was not subtle: all protesters were enemies. In the Carabineros’ view, these protests were part of a subversive plot against the government that threatened not only domestic peace but also the institution of the Carabineros itself (Candina 2006). By 2006, the negative image connected to their political involvement and gross human rights violations had almost disappeared. Indeed, by moving away from a policy that focused on internal security to one that emphasizes maintaining a close relationship with the community, the Chilean police have now come to be considered the very ‘backbone’ of democracy (Dammert 2006). Compared to other police forces in Latin America, the Chilean national police (Carabineros) and the Investigative Police (Policía de Investigaciones) do not suffer from institutional problems of corruption. This might be explained by several central characteristics of Chilean political culture, such as the high level

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of institutionalization combined with a general respect for governmental institutions. Also, the “zero tolerance” policy of the police toward corruption—or at least for those cases of corruption that are covered by the media—is another factor that should be considered. It would be contradictory to find a highly corrupt police force within a state characterized by institutions that respect the rule of law. Finally, cases of police violence are typically considered by the public as individual aberrations rather than the outcome of an institutional policy. As such, both the public and politicians have expressed little interest or concern over the issue. However, recent studies have revealed that the number of cases of police violence may be more significant than previously believed (Fuentes 2005). This chapter presents a general framework to analyze police violence in Chile. Special attention is given to the opportunities provided by the judicial system reform recently implemented in Chile. It also addresses the issue of military justice—which has tended to jeopardize, rather than strengthen, the rule of law in Chile—and its jurisdiction over cases of police violence. Key reforms of both the civilian criminal justice system and the military justice system are thus necessary in order to deal with cases of police misconduct.

Chilean Police Institutions There are two police institutions in Chile: Carabineros de Chile and Policía de Investigaciones. The former, initially part of the army, was created in 1927 and is in charge of crime prevention. The latter is civilian in nature and was created in 1933 to conduct criminal investigations. The Constitution of 1980 (promulgated under Pinochet’s regime) placed both police institutions under the Ministry of Defense along with the armed forces.4 However, even after fifteen years of democratic rule, this role has not yet been reversed by the creation of a new ministry responsible for overseeing public security. The newly–elected President Michelle Bachelet (2006-2010) has promised that the new ministry will be established during the first year of her term, but after more than six months the law to create this institution is still undergoing legislative debate. When approved, this legislation will fully remove both police institutions from the military realm and put them under civilian control.5 The Carabineros: Crime Prevention and Military Justice System The Carabineros are a military-type organization mainly responsible for crime prevention. However, they also perform duties related to criminal investigations, when the civilian Investigative Police are not present, or when the

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prosecutor decides to charge them with such investigations. In 2005, almost half of all criminal investigations were conducted by the Carabineros, which diminished the number of personnel available for crime prevention. For that reason, the General Director of Carabineros stated that his goal was to reduce the number of criminal investigations conducted by his forces. The institution has approximately 36,000 police officers, 26,000 of whom are allocated to operational duties nationwide. There are roughly 240 officers per 100,000 inhabitants, one of the lowest ratios in Latin America. The institution has publicly lamented its lack of personnel and stated that this situation has had a negative impact on crime prevention initiatives. Former President Ricardo Lagos (2000–2006) began to address this issue by mandating an annual increase of 1,500 police officers for several years starting in 2005. President Bachelet incorporated that promise in the thirty-six policies to be implemented within her first 100 days of government. The Carabineros will have 6,000 more police officers by the end of Bachelet´s term, which should allow them to implement more effective and efficient policies. One defining characteristic of the Carabineros is that they are part of a military justice system that has been highly criticized in Chile. A recent article states that the purpose of the military justice system “is less the administration of justice than the protection of the armed forces’ interests in hierarchy, discipline, and order” (Pereira and Zaverucha 2006: 116). Any alleged crimes involving an officer from the Carabineros must be prosecuted by military courts in a trial that is for the most part held secretly. Policía de Investigaciones: Shortage of Manpower In contrast to the Carabineros, the Policía de Investigaciones is a civilian body responsible for criminal investigations and consisting of approximately 3,600 detectives. Given a shortage of personnel, the Policía de Investigaciones is not able to maintain a presence in every city of the country. Beginning in the 1990s, the institution has undergone an important process of reform and modernization in response to a perception of corruption, police violence, and ineffectiveness. This process has highlighted the need to include more highly trained professionals in the institution. In August 2006, the Policía de Investigaciones issued its first call specifically for applicants with a university education, and currently there are high expectations for the anticipated impact. In 2005, a special Human Rights Unit was also created to work on special cases still open from the years of the dictatorship or that were opened after the publication of the report by the National Commission on Truth and Reconciliation (Comisión Valech).

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The Role of the Police During Pinochet’s Regime During Pinochet’s military dictatorship from 1973 to 1990, security policies were developed to address an internal enemy threatening stability and national unity. This promoted a climate of popular suspicion and mistrust and established an official discourse that focused on domestic security concerns. The military government advanced security policies that were directly connected to what was known as the National Security Doctrine, a doctrine adopted by various military regimes in the region. It emphasized a militaristic concept of security that focused on national defense and the maintenance of public order, even allowing institutional use of violence. This militarized vision of domestic conflict led to the containment and, in some cases, “eradication” of political and social views that conflicted with government policy or questioned the government’s legitimacy. Thus, internal security policies were designed to maintain national order, even when such policies threatened human rights. In Chile, as in other Latin American countries, the National Security Doctrine implemented the militarization of police forces, including creating special units dedicated to repression (including torture) with the goal of making “the nation” the subject of public security. Thus the military government made obvious the attempt to militarize the police. This was evidenced by the transfer of control over the police from the Interior Ministry to the Defense Ministry and by the change in 1975 of the Framework Law (Ley Orgánica) of the Carabineros, that reinstituted its military character. Ultimately, this dependence on armed forces made the police “the poor cousins” of the military regime (Aguila and Maldonado 1996: 13 and 17). Not surprisingly, the armed forces used the police to repress the civilian population and became involved in key areas such as the training of police officers as well as its internal organization. In general, during the seventeen years of the dictatorship, the activities of the police were based principally on “two strategies: increase in police visibility and arrests without warrants” (Frühling 2001: 28). Despite the obvious subordination of the police to the armed forces, the 1980 Constitution, which is still in force today, granted the police a great deal of power and militarized aspects of the police that had previously been the domain of civilians. This shift undoubtedly helped distort even further the professional role of the police in providing public security (Aguila and Maldonado 1996: 17). The involvement of the Carabineros in the military dictatorship is apparent in the speeches given by the General Director of the time as well as in the internal chapters that were printed in the “Revista de Carabineros de Chile” (Journal

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of Carabineros of Chile). By 1974, the participation of the Carabineros in the Military Junta was clearly defined: “Carabineros of Chile has been left to be mere executor of governmental dispositions. It is no longer only a silent witness of successes and errors of political governments.” The following citations illustrate both the type of information included in those sources and the political role of the institution during that period of Chilean history. In another paragraph depicting the Carabineros’ role in the military government and the position against Salvador Allende’s government, the institutional journal states: “The Military Government that put the incapacity and governmental arbitrariness to an end was the oxygen that life needed at the lowest possible cost.” Finally, the change of institutional dependency was considered a positive move from the political towards a more technical domain: “The discriminatory and sectarian form with which the deposed marxist government intended Carabineros to apply the law, convinced us that to guarantee equal treatment for all inhabitants of the country, it was inevitable to change the institution’s dependence on a political body and to incorporate it in a professional one, as that of the National Defense.” A Crisis of Legitimacy During the final years of the military regime, revelations implicating the police in human rights violations increased the public’s mistrust of both institutions, but especially of the Carabineros. It caused a crisis of legitimacy for the police such that, when combined with the secondary role given to it by the armed forces, led to distancing the top-ranking officers of the Carabineros from decision making by the military government (Oviedo 2002). Analysis of the Journal of Carabineros between 1985 and 1990 reveals words such as “heroic action,” “community involvement” and “social work” to describe their doctrine. Nevertheless, its military characteristics as well as the importance of safeguarding “the nation” are issues that remained. By the time democracy returned to Chile in 1990, the Carabineros started to play a key role in the transitional process. The new democratic government focused on dealing with the political involvement of the armed forces. Therefore, police reform was not on the agenda of institutional change and democratic consolidation.

Democratization and the Police Chile’s return to democracy posed various security policy challenges. The strong presence of militarized discourse within the police together with its

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close relationship to the armed forces gave significant levels of power and autonomy to the Carabineros. In addition, there was an increased sense of insecurity within society in the face of the increase of violence and “security emerged as one of the more important aspects of the media’s news coverage” (Tudela 2001a: 92). Security was clearly among the main concerns of the transitional administration. However, in the late 1980s a change in the security agenda’s emphasis was obvious: it moved from the intervention of armed forces in political issues to confronting street crime and its impact on the fear of crime. For instance, during the government of President Patricio Aylwin (1990–1993), the “first task of the transition consisted of achieving the quick and complete return of the armed forces to their barracks, and their reinsertion into the democratic political order as essentially obedient, apolitical institutions, professional, hierarchical, and disciplined” (Boeninger 1998: 390). Two additional central issues were attacks by left-wing groups that were still active and believed to provoke terrorism and the ongoing complaints about human rights violations during the military dictatorship. For many of those suspected of involvement in terrorism, the government reduced sentences and released prisoners who had been held for their beliefs or for nonviolent activities. It developed a strategy to dismantle those groups by using intelligence initiatives gained by infiltration. The so-called la oficina (the office) was a group of experts on national and public security charged with developing this strategy (Dammert 2006). Regarding human rights violations during the first part of the transition (Alywin and Frei’s governments) silence was the response to any focus on the importance of having professional armed forces. In general, one of the principal successes during this period was the fact that President Patricio Aylwin “managed to centralize the issue of public security in the Interior Ministry and limit the role of the armed forces in domestic security matters” (Tudela 2001a: 94). In this way, the central task was to change the doctrine of national security while decreasing the role of the armed forces in internal security. Serious tensions in the political-military relationship on the national level still existed that impeded the implementation of almost all proposals during the early years after the transition to democracy. For example, several members of the Senate who had been appointed during Pinochet’s regime had clear links with the armed forces and the police. In addition, the armed forces remained in control of military officers loyal to Pinochet and the previous regime. Thus, the first attempt to define a national strategy for citizen security was undermined well before public discussion of its content could occur. In 1996, a package of government security measures was issued that set a specific policy and legislative agenda but lacked an operational framework (Tudela

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2001). There were positive changes in terms of budget and human resources in both police institutions, and traditional operational strategies were modified to increase the role of the community in achieving crime reduction (Frühling 2001; Burgos 2000). The general view of the relationship between police officers and the community drastically changed in the 1990s, evolving from one of mistrust to one of close collaboration. High-ranking Carabineros have since played a key role in defining and consolidating collaborative community connections in certain areas of police work. This change can be traced in the concepts used in the Journal of Carabineros, where by 1994 they stated that “we have redoubled our efforts, sacrifice, safety and support towards many Chilean men and women, for which we have acquired affection, admiration and recognition.” Even more emphasis was placed on professionalism and technical knowledge, on “our professionalism, our will, our disciplinary and organic capacity, the spiritual strength of each one of our men and women, as well as the solidarity guiding us were positively projected toward society” (1994). Recently, both the Carabineros de Chile and the Investigative Police have begun to re-evaluate their institutional conduct, and they have been rhetorically adopting a more professional and non-political stance. Nevertheless, major changes regarding the mission, function and role of the Chilean police are still pending. Furthermore, the organization and military structure of the Carabineros continue to reflect those established during the military regime. Human rights is one area receiving more attention and is considered important—at least on a rhetorical level. Human rights are now compellingly defended by the leadership, to the point of their declaring: “We have no choice but to condemn and reprove the illicit acts that Carabineros committed which, far from protecting human life, was behavior which deserves our repudiation.”6 Reports of police violence and abuses have nevertheless continued, particularly against the indigenous group known as the Mapuche in southern Chile. Curtailment of Police Discretion The discretionary power of the police to stop and search, known as “detention based on suspicion” (detención por sospecha), was abolished in 1998. This legal reform restricted the power of the police to profile the population and make arrests based on stereotypes (especially detentions of poor youth living in marginal areas). Chilean public opinion was divided over this reform, with many demanding that the police be allowed to use a heavy-handed approach (mano dura) to fight crime. Following a series of minor legal changes to this

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practice, the police are still allowed to stop and search people, but only in certain situations. Degree of Trust: Class-related There is a considerable class difference regarding the level of public trust in the police and confidence in their effectiveness. In general, the affluent classes express high levels of confidence in the police. In surveys carried out in Santiago de Chile by the Ministry of Interior in 2003 and 2005, a majority of those in the highest socio-economic group evaluated the police positively in eight areas of their work (Ministry of Interior 2006). In contrast, a majority of the lower socioeconomic group judged the police positively in only two areas: in that of assistance and/or rescue in accidents—not in the area of crime prevention (Ministry of Interior 2006). These contrasting opinions of police performance point to an important issue that has hardly received any analysis or discussion in Chile: the disparity between police services provided for various socioeconomic groups. If such a significant disparity indeed exists, this would indicate that those who need police attention most, in reality, receive it least. The poor are victimized more and live under greater fear of crime, but they have less trust in the police and believe that there is insufficient police presence. If the police are to maintain their prestige and reputation for professionalism, this situation must be addressed.

Violence, Crime, and Fear in Chile In the last two decades, there has been a clear trend of increasing crime in Chile. Between 1973 and 2003, the rate of reported property crimes tripled, compared to a doubling of personal crimes (Ministry of Interior 2006). Most common personal crimes are assaults resulting in injury, and the most common property crime is theft with a threat of violence. There has also been a significant increase in the number of robberies, rising by more than 700 percent during this period. Crime Levels and Fear of Crime The National Urban Victimization Survey conducted in 2004 indicated that 46 percent of Chilean homes registered at least one crime victim and that 30 percent of all those interviewed were the victim of some sort of crime during

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the previous year. Both figures are indicative of the high incidence of crime in general, which affected almost a third of the national population over fifteen years of age. However, most types of victimization are related to minor crimes such as (automobile) theft, crimes which rarely involve violence. The relatively low homicide rate (approximately two per 100,000 inhabitants) suggests that (serious) violence is not widespread in Chile.7 On the other hand, fear of crime has become one of the most important public policy issues in Chile and insecurity has been among the three most important issues faced by Chileans in the last decade.8 Although the nature and causes of this fear are still under debate, it is clear that a large segment of the population experience high levels of anxiety about criminality. A survey from June 2004 found 16 percent seriously fearing crime, a steady increase since October 2000 (Fundación Paz Ciudadana). Not surprisingly, victims of (attempted) burglaries show higher levels of fear than the population as a whole. But 48 percent of the general population thought they were likely to be victims of a crime in the next twelve months, and 45 percent that someone would break into their home. These figures confirm previous studies indicating the high levels of insecurity experienced by the Chilean population, mostly related to a fear of sustaining personal injuries. Variations in Public Trust Both police institutions are generally respected and trusted by the Chilean population, which makes the country unique in Latin America. In a recent survey conducted in Chile’s largest cities (Ministry of Interior 2004), 54 percent expressed a high degree of trust in the police. However, while both institutions were looked upon favorably, the Carabineros were trusted more than the Investigative Police. Levels of confidence in the police varied in accordance with socio-economic status. The greatest amount of confidence was expressed by those belonging to the highest socioeconomic group. This fact is reflected in an approval rating of 70 percent, with only 3 percent expressing a negative view. This is considerably more positive than the Investigative Police, who are viewed positively by 51 percent and negatively by 8 percent. The lower end of the socioeconomic spectrum is much more negative towards police performance, with only 35 percent expressing positive views and 15 percent being negative about the manner in which the Carabineros perform their duties. As for the Investigative Police, the judgment is even more negative, with only 35 percent expressing approval and 36 percent disapproval. Forty percent of the general population ranked local government as

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the worst-rated institution and 37 percent the justice system (Ministry of Interior 2004). Eighty-three percent of those surveyed reported never having seen a Carabinero perform an unlawful act. In fact, only 14 percent of the people noted having witnessed abnormal conduct, such as excess verbal and/or physical violence. Of those claiming to have witnessed unlawful police conduct, 38 percent referred to “abuse of authority,” 31 percent unwarranted police violence, and 28 percent police inaction when observing a crime being committed.9 The level of trust in the police is an important element when analyzing public response towards them and their behavior and practices. In that sense the hypothesis that in Chile there exist two types of police service that varies along socioeconomic groups of those being protected could be confirmed. Regardless of the initiatives implemented in the last decade, the youth that belong to the lower class see the police as an institution that uses unnecessary force and does not performs their duty appropriately.

Judicial Reform and Police Strategies to Control Crime A key priority for democratic governments is the modernization of the criminal justice system. In recent years, an ambitious criminal justice system reform (Reforma Procesal Penal) has been launched in Chile. It was begun as a response to the perceived need to create a more effective and efficient justice system and to be linked more closely to the public, taking into consideration the rights of victims. The introduction of public hearings during the process, as well as the presence of prosecutors and other new players in the court system, has the potential to drastically improve the provision of justice throughout Chile. It has opened up the process to the public, increasing the transparency of the criminal justice process. Furthermore, the presence of the public defendant allows those charged with a crime to receive a fair trial. Finally, the victim is able to play an active part in the process, not only in terms of physical presence during the trial but also by the ability to give public testimony. Of relevance also is that victims of violent and sexual crimes now receive better treatment and support. The judicial reforms have had a direct impact on police strategies and behavior, particularly those involving criminal investigation practices (Ponce 2006). Several of the reforms may have had an impact here. There are several possible explanations for this situation. All prosecutors are now individually assigned to cases and are responsible for the investigation with the assistance of police personnel. This represents an important change from the previous

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system, in which the responsibility for a criminal investigation was solely in police hands. Second, the police felt that the reform ‘tied their hands,’ thereby preventing them from engaging in more proactive crime-control strategies. This has resulted in a ‘reform of the reform.’ By the end of 2005 the police were getting more autonomy from public prosecutors in special cases, and several laws were implemented to give police more discretion in making arrests. The physical presence of the prosecutor in certain cases was also deemed unnecessary, and prosecutors can now authorize certain procedures over the phone. A third consequence of the judicial reform is evidenced in the overlapping roles of the Carabineros and the investigative police in terms of crime investigation. Since the public prosecutor can freely choose who should investigate a crime, the Carabineros have expressed concerns that they are to investigate most cases, while in some cases both institutions have been called to do the same job to compare results.10 This is a highly inefficient way to conduct a criminal investigation, but few policies have been implemented to increase the involvement of the Policía de Investigaciones in criminal investigations. Even the way crime is reported has been influenced by the judicial reform. There are now at least four different sources of crime statistics (Public Prosecutor, Police Institutions, Public Defense and Ministry of Interior) that do not present the same information, thus making it possible to find at least three different homicide rates in a specific territory. These discrepancies have an impact on the ability of authorities to design and implement sound public policies to deal with homicides. For instance, an analysis of homicide rates based on police records shows Chile to have the lowest rate in Latin America with around two murder cases per 100,000 inhabitants. These data differ from that presented by the Public Prosecutor’s Office suggesting a murder rate of eight per 100,000. The difference in information between these sources is evidence of the problems arising when different systems are used to register similar but not quite identical, phenomena. Police records include only reported homicides, while the Public Prosecutor Office´s information includes all incidents where a body is found and a homicide case is opened. Another effect of the reforms has been that in all cases the Public Defense Ministry—the equivalent of district attorneys in the United States—must send a lawyer within twenty-four hours of detention, limiting the potential for abuse of force by the police. Finally, the introduction of procedures used in interrogations should improve the quality of police involvement in the criminal justice process by making it possible to subject police officers to public interrogations. Public hearings during any criminal trial also hold police accountable for their arrests and investigations, as well as the actions of other functionaries in the criminal justice system.

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Police Abuse: A Forgotten Issue? The issue of police abuse in Latin America has been central to many of the studies undertaken in the region (Agüero and Stark 1998; Fuentes 2004; Gitlitz and Chevigny 2002; Méndez 1999). However, the history of human rights violations, including abuse of force by many police institutions, has not been fully addressed either by the authorities or researchers, even though there exists strong evidence of police abuses in most Latin American countries. Some international studies conclude that it is almost impossible to explain why some police institutions are prone to use violence while others are not (Fruhling 2001; Huggins 1998). Available evidence indicates that abuse of force is linked to low educational levels among the forces, weak internal and external control mechanisms, and lack of punishment for those involved in police violence, corruption, and other abuses found in most police institutions in Latin America (Frühling 2001). In Chile, however, this seems to be different. Although the Carabineros were involved in human rights abuses during Pinochet’s military dictatorship (1973–1990), there is consensus within society that over the last decade institutional violence has ceased to be a problem. Because of the high public approval ratings of the police, there is little political debate over the way they should function. In fact, none of the democratic administrations since 1990 has made any attempt to reform the Carabineros. Dealing with Police Abuse: The Military System Police personnel are tried in the military justice system rather than in civilian courts. The Chilean Codigo de Justicia Militar (Military Justice Code) dates from 1925 and has undergone no significant changes. According to the Military Justice Code, the Carabineros, like the armed forces, are covered by military jurisdiction, including both military and civilian issues in which they are involved. A typical example is a street protest where there is an altercation between a Carabinero and a civilian and the Carabinero is injured. The civilian is then subject to the jurisdiction of the military courts. A Carabinero is never subject to the jurisdiction of the civilian courts; any charge against them enjoys exclusive jurisdiction in the military courts, regardless of whether or not the charge-triggering event occurred outside the scope of their duties as Carabineros (Fensom 2006). Within the present system police conduct is never publicly scrutinized, and this contributes to the impression within civil society that the process is biased. Little has been done about police violence and there are political reasons why policymakers in a democratic society do so little to reduce police misbehavior and why they

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do not reform police institutions (Fensom 2006). High levels of public trust in the Carabineros have contributed to police reform having little political relevance. Public order is considered essential to maintaining stability as well as the public’s perception that “the country is working.” Informal links held by the political opposition with the Carabineros, who have strongly lobbied against any possible reform, also play a role. In a revealing study Claudio Fuentes (2001) concludes that police violence in Chile is still an important issue that needs to be addressed. He found that reports of unnecessary violence have doubled over the past decade. Unfortunately, around 90 percent of all cases of unnecessary violence between 1990 and 1997 were dismissed due to lack of evidence, an average of only 5.6 percent of cases resulted in verdicts, with only 4.7 percent of those accused being found guilty. These figures are not significantly different from the civilian justice system figures. Nevertheless, the military courts are more likely to find the accused guilty when cases are brought by police officers than when cases are brought by civilians. Using a military justice system in cases of reported police abuse is a problem because the system does not allow the civilian counterpart to utilize the rights they would possess in a civilian criminal justice system, such as public hearings. In an interesting analysis Couso (2002) shows that between 1990 and 1996 around 70 percent of cases tried before the military courts involved a civilian, either as the defendant or the victim. Civilians accused of violence against the police face military courts. Persistence of Police Abuse Is there less police violence in Chile today than in the past? This question is difficult to answer with certainty, since there are no past figures that allow an accurate comparison, and the number of actual incidents is likely to (substantially) exceed the number reported. As the doubling of reported incidents indicates, however, the problem has clearly persisted over the past decade. There are different likely explanations. As democracy increases citizens’ awareness of their rights, people begin to feel empowered to report cases of police abuse, thereby combating police impunity, and increasing the number of cases reported and investigated. Another point is that there has been an increase in the number of people arrested. Largely as a result of the emphasis on public security in the political agenda, there are increased arrests allowing potentially more police abuse. The increasing number of arrests has increased the potential for cases of police violence, particularly in southern Chile. Several cases have revealed police violence against the indigenous Mapuche population. Finally, there has been an increase in other situations that could lead

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to conflicts between police and the public, including soccer games, and antiglobalization and other rallies that may result in confrontations with the police; in one case more than 150 people were detained by the police during the APEC meeting held in Chile in 2005. The reporting rate of police violence (legal or illegal) is probably low, as is the case of crimes in general. Unfortunately, there are few incentives for people to report cases of police violence, given the widely held belief that no justice will be done and that the military justice system is slow and biased in favor of the police. Furthermore, most people are unaware that certain incidents could be reported, therefore, preventing them from receiving institutional help. It is evident that the problem of police abuse is far from over. In its 2002 annual report Amnesty International concluded that Chile’s Carabineros used excessive force in a number of incidents including the dispersion of peaceful demonstrations. Human Rights Watch World Report 2005 and 2006 pointed out that the problem of continued military court jurisdiction over crimes involving police remains unresolved. The United States Department of State’s 2005 Country Report on Human Rights Practices concluded that human rights problems included isolated reports of excessive use of force and mistreatment by police forces and the failure to advise detainees promptly of charges against them and to grant them a timely hearing. Police Abuse: Some Conclusions Although little information is available on police abuse, it is still possible to draw some tentative conclusions. During the past sixteen years of democracy, police institutions have dramatically improved their attitudes towards the use of force; consequently, police violence is not a general problem in the country today. Nevertheless, there are still issues that must be addressed in order to limit future cases of police violence and to ensure accountability for police behavior. Police abuse is an issue that policymakers should be concerned about, even if Chilean politicians and society in general feel largely indifferent about it. To ignore it would amount to societal tolerance of a kind of “legitimate” violence. How does one account for the near total absence of this issue in the general political and public agenda? First, the state has only slight control over police institutions, especially in the case of the Carabineros. Second, the public knows little about the internal policies towards police violence, internal affairs, and even the number of cases investigated. In fact, information regarding police issues is not made public and is difficult to obtain. By using different procedures from its civilian counterpart, the military justice system plays a key role in limiting information and slowing down the process.

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It is ironic that while concern over crime has increased calls for improved crime prevention programs, police violence has largely been ignored as an issue. Indeed, sometimes it is even suggested that police violence is inevitable in order to prevent an increase in crime.

Challenges Ahead The Chilean National Police and the Investigative Police are both highly respected institutions throughout the region. The confidence and public trust in these institutions is largely the result of the evolution that both have undergone since the transition to democracy in 1990. As a result, memories of human rights violations by the police, including well-known cases of murder and kidnapping, have begun to fade. Nevertheless, although the situation has vastly improved over the years, some aspects continue to need improvement, especially police accountability to the public. Much of the information used in this chapter concerns the “old” judicial system, which has now been replaced by judicial system reform. Thus, many of these issues will need to be re-evaluated in the coming years in light of these reforms. The new criminal procedures provide far more guarantees for both the accused and the victims of crimes, including the right to a public defender, open trials, and prosecutors replacing the police as being responsible for criminal investigations. These changes can be expected to limit the abuse of force by the police, since many more people will have a stake in the judicial process, and the reforms aim for the development of more professional police institutions. However, it is also possible that the reforms may only be partly successful. Some people express concern that the close relationship between prosecutors and police officers could backfire if prosecutors become reluctant to prosecute cases of police misconduct. Furthermore, there is considerable uncertainty about the extent to which the privacy of victims and witnesses will be safeguarded. As a result of the large number of cases for which each prosecutor is responsible, in minor cases police officers often only consult them by phone. The original idea of the initial reform was to require prosecutors to be present, for example, when the police issued a warrant. It is now feared, however, that allowing police to proceed on such occasions with the mere approval of the prosecutor over the phone will open up the door for police misconduct, such as illegal use of force, breaking into neighboring houses and even unnecessary detentions.

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But the main issue that needs to be addressed in Chile concerns the military justice system, which currently still tries cases of police officers. Within this system all proceedings and materials are secret, even to civilian lawyers. Most cases last far longer than those processed in civilian courts, and the majority result in acquittals of the police and are not open to public scrutiny. Moreover, if charges of police abuse are accompanied by police officers reporting violence against themselves or other police officers, the accused civilian has no right to a publicly appointed defense attorney. Since the judicial system reform has left the military justice system untouched, there is no public defenders’ office involved in such cases, nor is there assistance to victims during trials. We can finally return to some of the issues raised at the beginning of this chapter. How have the Carabineros managed to alter the image that they had during the era of the military dictatorship? The answer is that they have pursued a deliberate policy designed to change their image from that of a highly professional but remote police force to that of public servants “working with the people.” In less than two decades, this policy has transformed the public’s perception of the Carabineros from an abusive and political institution into one that serves of the community. The reason there is so little institutional corruption appears directly related to the clear stance the Carabineros have taken toward corruption: it is unacceptable. This seems to be related to the military codes followed, as well as pride in their institution. While it certainly is not true that military institutions are by definition without corruption, in this case military codes and norms appear to play an important role, as punishments for such acts are severe. Favorable public opinion is simply too important for the leadership of the National Police to allow it to be undermined by cases of corruption. The situation concerning the police use of force is different. Whilst the Carabineros respond rapidly to breaches of law and order, instances of police abuse are not dealt with as swiftly and uncompromisingly as suspected acts of corruption. This chapter has argued that this system is unfair in cases of police abuse, putting the civilian at a disadvantage. In addition, alleged cases of police abuse are judged in a military system that is highly secretive. The difference in stance taken by authorities towards corruption and police violence can be attributed to the perception that public opinion is more lenient on this issue, that citizens “understand” that the police sometimes have to use violent means to maintain public order. This relative tolerance of police violence may be connected to the high level of public trust enjoyed by the Carabineros. While corruption is perceived as important and is therefore punished quickly and efficiently, abuse of

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force is frequently not only tolerated but justified by the public as necessary in light of their increasing fear of crime. Thus, while considerable progress has been made in democratizing Chile’s police institutions, much remains to be done in order to increase police accountability to the public and to eliminate cases of police violence. Judicial system reform is an important step to prevent police abuse. However, without a similar and far-reaching reform of the military justice system, it is likely to persist.

Notes 1. http://www.freedomhouse.org/. 2. http://ww1.transparency.org/cpi/2003/cpi2003.en.html. 3. As Stone and Ward explain: “Chile’s largest police force, the Carabineros, has a reputation among Chileans for being clean, honest, and disciplined. Some Chileans say it ranks just below the Catholic Church as the most trusted social institution . . . The Carabineros are proud of their clean hands” (1998: 1–3). 4. The relationship with the Ministry of Defense is mostly administrative. Both police institutions have a strong operational link with the Ministry of Interior. At the end of 2007, President Bachelet announced that both institutions will become part of the Ministry of Interior. 5. At the time of writing (September 2006) the new ministry had as yet not been created and experts in fact consider there to be little hope of its creation in the near future. 6. Interview with Director General of the Carabineros Cienfuegos, El Mercurio, January 12, 2003. 7. For more information, see www.seguridadciudadana.gov.cl. 8. The survey done by Centro de Estudios Públicos shows the importance of the security issue, second only to unemployment and poverty since the 1990s (see www.cep.cl). 9. Ministry of Interior, 2004. The questionnaire does not include a description of what is being considered (abuse of authority), therefore it was left to the interpretation of the interviewed, and the information deriving from this source is not in this sense specifically defined. 10. For instance, at the end of 2005, more than 50 percent of all cases were investigated by the Carabineros on the direct request of the prosecutor—despite the fact that the Investigative Police exist precisely for that purpose. The high level of involvement of the Carabineros has been justified as an inevitable response to the lack of Investigative Police nationwide.

8 Police Reform in Argentina: Public Security versus Human Rights Mark Ungar

ARGENTINA IS A MOSAIC of police practice and reform. Its twenty-three provinces contain some of the world’s most advanced legal codes, as in Córdoba province, and some of the worst police corruption, as in Buenos Aires provinces. Nearly every part of the country has been undergoing changes and challenges on policing since the country’s 1983 transition to democracy. Such diversity makes Argentina a most instructive example of police reform in Latin America, which this chapter analyzes through the political, functional, and legal obstacles to this change. Specifically, it argues that current reform efforts, based on thwarted changes of the 1990s, are grappling with an underlying divide between traditional and problem-oriented models of citizen security. Traditional policing, based on the institutionalized approach of cracking down through detention and incarceration, is now being called into question by a problem-oriented approach, which focuses instead on prevention by addressing the causes of crime through citizen participation and also focuses on societal problems such as youth unemployment. Because problem-oriented policing implies a complete overhaul of long-held practices of law enforcement, it is creating many conflicts among and between politicians and police throughout Latin America. Through ongoing debate, growing experience, and the increasing power of reformers in Argentina, however, many of the country’s provinces are showing how that divide can be gradually overcome through smart, well-designed reform that improves policing while respecting human rights. As a federal nation of provinces with separate police forces, Argentina has had more opportunity for reform than centralized states with one police

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force. It also has taken advantage of that opportunity more than have the region’s other federated nations—Mexico, Brazil, and Venezuela—where entrenched political controls have hampered change. Budgets and policies formed in a national capital slow down police effectiveness and flexibility, as in countries like Peru and Bolivia. But provincial governments that are smaller and closer to the population are (theoretically) better able to provide security. When they are successful, they can become a catalyst for other provinces. Such examples, though, would have to overcome the powerful elites, clientalistic politics, unstable economies, and a weak rule of law, all of which have continued well into Argentina’s democratic era and have prevented change in all but a small number of provinces. Change imposed by the national government is also unlikely to succeed, since it lacks the strength to overcome provincial resistance. The kinds of judicial legitimacy and political stability that helped the United States desegregate Southern states in the 1960s, for example, are lacking in Argentina. Although crime has been the top concern of Argentines since 1995 (along with the economy), societal distrust of the entire political class which peaked during Argentina’s 2001 economic collapse also helped to slow down reform efforts. The Argentine provinces that are open to change are now enacting new, smarter, and multiple reforms. Those changes fall into three main categories. First, there is a restructuring of the police to make them more efficient, less militarized, and better connected to the criminal justice system through flatter hierarchies and decentralization. Second, these provinces are developing new penal process codes that transfer investigative power from the police to the prosecutors, replace written with oral trials, and create new courts. The third and most ambitious change concerns introducing community policing that empowers citizens to work with police in identifying and addressing crime’s causes through cooperative efforts, special councils, and social programs. Some programs including mediation centers, alternative dispute resolution, neighborhood police modules, and community judges can advance changes in all three categories. In addition to not being based on earlier failures and weaknesses, one characteristic that these different reforms have in common is that they bring to the surface fundamental debate over the basic approach of policing. The reigning citizen security paradigm until the end of the 1990s was a centralized response to crime based on repression, success measured by the number of arrests, and suspicion of (human) rights standards. But as this approach became increasingly unable to respond adequately to the socioeconomic conditions that had increased crime, laws were enacted to make police forces more efficient and accountable, and to turn to problem-oriented policing that focused on the

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causes of crime. However, a lack of political, financial, and institutional support eroded these changes leading to the current debate between traditional and problem-oriented models of policing. Efforts to apply human rights standards to policing, a long and ongoing struggle throughout Argentina, may hinge on the outcome of this debate Argentina is one of the few countries in Latin America that has been the subject of extensive studies on polices practices and reform. Dutil and Ragendorfer (2005), Almada and Licht (2001), Ragendorfer (2002), Vallespir (2002), Donato (1999), Burzaco (2001), and Sigal, Binder and Annicchiarico (1998) describe the extensive corruption and violence that existed among the police, while Sain (2002), Dammert (2000 and 2001), and Andersen (2002) give thorough critiques of police reform in the country. Few studies, though, have provided an overview of contemporary national trends in citizen security that tie together and compare provincial politics of crime with the reform efforts. Such a focus is increasingly necessary because most innovations for and obstacles to police reform now occur at the local and provincial level. So instead of examining Argentina as a whole or even a particular program, this chapter is a comprehensive look at police reform at the provincial level—which best reveals the prospects for change in Argentina and in the rest of the region as well. This chapter will be divided into five sections. The first describes citizen security policy at the national level since the democratic transition, from the governments of Raúl Alfonsín to the current one of Néstor Kirchner. The second focuses on the federal police, the Policía Federal Argentina (PFA), which is responsible for national crimes (such as drug trafficking) throughout the country, and for all law enforcement in the federal capital of Buenos Aires city. The other three sections look at citizen security reforms in the provinces, first providing an overview of patterns and obstacles and then turning to the provinces of Buenos Aires, Mendoza, and La Rioja, which together display the main strengths and weaknesses of Argentina’s citizen security reform. In the analysis of each province, the reforms will be described before exposing the conflicts that ensued and the still-uncertain resolution of those conflicts.

Citizen Security at the National Level In a history shaped by internal strife, Argentina’s police have a played a pivotal role. During the colonial era and the civil wars following independence, the police were strengthened by competing factions and caudillos (military or political leaders). Even as constitutional rule was gradually established through legal codification, the police gained more discretionary power—such as

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through the 1868 and 1888 penal codes that gave the PFA the power to detain people on the grounds of suspicion. At the turn of the twentieth century, police agencies were used to crack down on both unions and socialist organizations that had been spawned by immigration and industrialization. The crushing of a workers protest of 1919’s infamous Tragic Week, for example, began with police intervention in a labor strike. After the military took power in 1930, police power grew exponentially, with wide-ranging authorities granted through executive decrees, ordinances, and “regulations” such as edicts, which continued during the return to formal democracy. In 1944, for example, police were allowed to arrest individuals who failed to prove their identity. During the 1976–1983 military dictatorship (referred to as the Proceso in Argentina), approximately 30,000 people were “disappeared” by the military with “the full support of the security branch of the federal police.”1 Since the police became part of the state’s repressive apparatus, human rights concerns were the first catalyst for reform after the 1983 transition to democracy. The radical government of Raúl Alfonsín (1983–1989) strengthened civil rights protections while at the same time it improved police training, tightened internal discipline, and replaced top PFA officials. During this time, several provinces adopted new penal process codes, streamlined police hierarchies, and adopted police-community projects such as civilian boards. Faced with Peronist obstruction in Congress and the economic crisis of the mid-1980s, the priority of rights protection led to few substantial structural changes. In most provinces, the police enjoyed continuity in both structure and authority, with many military officials finding positions in them. After military unrest and an economic crisis in the late 1980s sidetracked police reform, the 1989–1999 government of President Carlos Menem built up the national security apparatus, particularly after the 1994 bombing of the Jewish Community Center (AMIA). He named former Proceso officials to top positions and promoted wide powers for police agencies, particularly by allowing them to stop crime in the “pre-criminal” state. Menem’s approach was also applied by most governors of the time. Tightening controls over the police usually came only in response to specific incidents of abuse or from political negotiation.2 Legal changes were also made to modernize the judicial process. The Penal Process Code got a long-needed overhaul in 1992, in particular simplifying criminal procedures and strengthening the Prosecutor’s Office (Fiscalía). But public opinion generally supported tough policing. Public Demands for the Mano Dura As crime reached record levels in the 1990s—doubling between 1992 and 1999 with violent crimes rising by 65 percent between 1994 and 1999—the

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number of crimes jumped from 348,780 in 1983 to 1,270,725 in 2003.3 Public demands grew for an iron fist (mano dura) response, which was to increase physical crackdowns on criminals, expand the discretionary police power of detention, and emphasize incarceration. But the mano dura itself came under scrutiny when it did not lead to expected results. As the economy deteriorated more rapidly after Menem’s 1995 re-election, the public started to believe that the police might just be too corrupt, complacent, and violent to be effective. As unemployment, poverty and inequality increased,4 traditional policing was increasingly ineffective. More arrests, mainly for property crimes and misdemeanors, had little impact. Less than a fifth of federal prison inmates were dangerous criminals. Criminal policy agencies, such as the Justice Ministry’s Office of Criminal Policy, were hampered by poor information and the lack of infrastructural support. Its director complained that “we have improved slightly our focus on . . . those who commit minor crimes and are the only ones caught in the penal process’ selectivity” but that “the larger criminal policy and its normative and sociological approach have not changed” since the pre-democratic era.5 Even though the criminal justice system continued to be the country’s least trusted institution (along with Congress), the old conceptual paradigm, which focused on responding to crimes rather then their causes, continued to be supported by politicians and judges. Ad hoc measures like personnel changes had little effect, since police “themselves demonstrated an enormous capacity to reproduce patterns that perpetuate their own corruption and inefficiency.”6 Despite increases in crime during the 1990s, in fact, the number of actual sentences actually fell, from 19,764 in 1983 to 18,377 in 2000, with fewer than 2 percent of violent crimes leading to convictions. Shifting Public Demands Growing doubts over policing were fuelled by Argentina’s worsening economic troubles. The Menem administration’s neo-liberal model—among Latin America’s most extensive—cut state spending, decentralized most state services, and adopted a fixed exchange rate. As those policies led to record unemployment, poverty, and eventually to the 2001 economic collapse, civil society began taking up the slack with grassroots organizations and movements on issues ranging from poverty reduction to gender equality. Governors, trying to increase their distance from an increasingly unpopular national government, began to improve community participation and institutional accountability. Together, these political and citizen-led pressures led to a shift from repression-based to problem-oriented policing. But this transition was hampered by political expediency, overly ambitious programs, financial limitations, police resistance, lack of training, and citizen suspicions. In many

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provinces, this failure led to contradictory reactions: on the one hand, many called for greater commitment and better implementation of these reforms, while others called for a return to the mano dura approach. This conflict spurred debate about traditional policing and a more problem-oriented policing, which now defines citizen security reform around the country. Its outcome depends on whether alternative policing models get the political and institutional support they need to be able to demonstrate results and attain long-term support. With this debate causing a stalemate in most provinces, much of the pressure for change has now fallen on President Néstor Kirchner, who came to office in 2003. A recovering economy, along with his assertive moves to implement human rights and legal issues including ending the amnesty law for rights abuses of the 1976–1983 dictatorship and purging a corrupt Supreme Court, has kept the President’s popularity high. Recognizing that such support is vulnerable to public impatience over crime, Kirchner also forged new ground on policing and criminal policy. He fired 107 top PFA officers during his first year in office and pressured Buenos Aires province to do the same. A Broad National Security Plan In April 2004, the administration introduced a broad National Security Plan with sweeping changes for the police, courts, and law. It proposed a new crimemapping system, a Federal Investigations Agency of about 12,000 officers (based on the U.S. FBI), replacing many police chiefs with elected civilians, forming citizen boards to evaluate police promotions, building eight new federal prisons by 2007, unifying all federal courts, introducing jury trials in many criminal and corruption cases, creating new juvenile courts, and locating some judges and prosecutors in the neighborhoods. In addition, the Buenos Aires city Community Police will be enlarged with 1,500 new officers, and the nearly 50,000 teenager dropouts in “critical areas” will be enticed back to school using scholarships and weekend classes. This ambitious legislation fused tougher laws, overhauled state agencies, and implemented a problem-oriented approach toward law enforcement. This latter focus was embodied in the parallel National Crime Prevention Plan (Plan Nacional de Prevención del Delito) that aims to prevent conditions that lead to crime, “uncivilized conduct” and recidivism. To reach these goals, the plan will focus on the most “vulnerable” poor urban communities, working to facilitate offenders’ reintegration into society, improving citizen education, and providing better youth programs. These plans are the broadest and most ambitious national projects in over a decade. Even with these promising conditions, however, deeper political, legal, and functional obstacles remain. First, political support for the president does not necessarily translate into support for his reforms, since, as in other

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countries, an impatient public is more inclined toward proposals that appear tough and immediate. These came on the heels of the government’s plan. In March 2004, the kidnapping and killing in Buenos Aires province of twentythree-year-old Axel Blumberg led to a protest in the federal capital that drew nearly 200,000 people. In response, Congress enacted a series of hastily drawn laws that included lowering the age for criminal liability and toughening sentences for murderers, kidnappers, and rapists. Since the government had not yet announced its plan, it went back to revise it—fomenting charges that it was unassertive and unclear. The growing frequency and tensions of demonstrations by the unemployed and other social movements, whose confrontations with the police hastened the downfall of two previous presidents, put the government on the defensive. In fact, disagreement between the police and the government led to the resignation of the PFA chief and the President’s dismissal of Gustavo Beliz, the Minister of Justice, Security, and Human Rights, who was responsible for formulating the security plan. Reform was further delayed and confused by the transfer of the PFA from the Justice Ministry to the Interior Ministry along with the political isolation of the officials behind the National Crime Prevention Plan. While most Argentines do not blame the national government for crime problem, (97 percent of those polled said that the April protest was not directed at Kirchner), they are relying on a government that, by proposing a plan, has set itself up to be judged for the plan’s outcome. Federal plans were set back further by the fact that any national plan needs the cooperation of the provinces, which are notoriously protective of their power. Soon after the Ministry of Justice, Security, and Human Rights announced the government’s security plan, eighty security officials from all the provinces met with Beliz to complain that the plan would intrude on their autonomy by allowing federal forces in localities which they were not disposed to allow. The provinces also objected to the creation of a Federal Investigations Agency, which would have power throughout the country, as well as the plan’s financing, despite the Minister’s assurances that the federal government would foot the bill. They were suspicious that the funding would come out of the “co-participating” funds through which the provinces receive federal money. Together, national and provincial politics, along with a weak institutional basis, weakened Kirchner’s plans from the start.

Policía Federal Argentina The Policía Federal Argentina (PFA) is Argentina’s federal police and is responsible for enforcing federal laws throughout the country and all laws in the Federal Capital.7 The PFA has been the country’s best-trained police agency,

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reflecting the interests and priorities of the federal government. This power, and the abuses that often accompanied it, continued into the democratic era. According to a dictatorship-era police chief, for example, many repressionbased policies were encouraged in Menem’s PFA. But starting in the mid1990s, the PFA came under pressure, primarily from the Federal Capital’s newly minted provincial status and its inability to deal with the growing complexity of law enforcement. In this position, the PFA became one of the first police agencies in Argentina to be caught in the struggle between repressiveand problem-oriented policing. The main symbols of this pressure, and the PFA’s power, were the twentythree edicts the agency acquired over time that gave it wide discretionary power that circumvented court oversight. These edicts allowed the PFA to detain people indefinitely for behavior ranging from “scandal” to “drunkenness,” and became the main basis for action. Of the approximately 240,000 annual detentions in the Federal Capital in 1995, over 150,000 were for edict transgressions, 50,000 on verification of identity alone. But when the Federal Capital became a province, its 1996 constitution abolished the edicts, instantly depriving the PFA of its operational foundation. Amid the rivalry between the national Peronist government and the city’s Alianza government, the President re-instated the edicts through decree, justifying them using PFA and middle-class assertions that their abolition gave license to prostitution and drug trafficking.8 Since then, however, federal power has gradually given way to local moves toward problem-oriented policing, including formation of a non-armed Urban Guard and a network of security coordinators and forums in each of the city’s eight administrative districts to help residents identify and respond to crime’s causes. The city legislature is also developing a plan for an entirely new police if it succeeds in its long battle to take control of policing in the capital. PFA’s Failure in Combating Crime Although the PFA is largely regarded as the most professional of all Argentina’s police forces, it has faced growing criticism for its failure to rein in crime. This failure is rooted in poor police practices ranging from investigation to community relations. The academies for both top and sub-commissioned officers focus on physical preparation and formal knowledge of laws rather than analysis and discussion of criminal policy and social conditions. Nor is analysis of crime’s causes or patterns integrated into the daily functioning of police stations (comisarías). The police have become better at tracking crimes in their neighborhoods but do not adequately analyze their causes or develop specific responses. This failure is particularly true in the villas

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(shantytowns), which are often not shown on comisaría crime maps even though they have higher crime rates than surrounding areas. Promotion in the PFA, as in other police forces, perpetuates ineffective policing. Rather than positive actions or specific skill development, moving up in the PFA’s ranks depends almost entirely on the officer’s academy exam score and whether he/she has caused any problems. The form used for promotion is a single page, without in-depth questions about the agent’s actual work. Interviews with officials in police stations reveal that there is very little management or skill-development. Street officers basically monitor a single corner, without training from higher-ups on proactive crime fighting. Such an approach has led to a highly conservative system where risks and innovation are discouraged. To enable the police to fight crime effectively means empowering each officer with some level of decision making. Promotion to a higher rank should be based on specific skills and achievements, like relations with the community. Along with such weak management, poor training and unchecked corruption also lead to police abuse. In the capital, one of every four killings is done by police, and between 1996 and 2002 the number of civilians killed by police rose by 89 percent and of police killed by 132 percent. While some of this increase can be attributed to mounting political violence, excessive use of force is also caused by vague rules and poor training on the use of force. The PFA relies primarily on general UN guidelines without training or discussion of how it is applied in practice. Inadequate preparation, in turn, can be blamed on corruption and weak internal affairs. Like their counterparts in other countries, Argentine police officers blame poor practices on a lack of logistical and material support. Although such complaints are far from groundless, they are usually due less to the absence of funds than the misdirection of funds. Police control over budgets and procurements, as in other countries, has long generated corruption networks in the PFA. Like many Latin American countries, most of the police in Argentina are divided between “officials,” which comprise the higher ranks, and “sub-officials,” which comprise the lower ranks. Officials and sub-officials are trained in different academies with very different curricula. In Buenos Aires, PFA officers say “off the record” that the sub-official academy directors keep funds earmarked for firearms and bullets, leading cadets to graduate without sufficient training on firearms use. But investigation into such wrongdoing is slowed by police control over internal affairs, casting doubt on the neutrality of investigators, and by a lack of resources to actually carry out investigations. The Chief of Judicial Investigations says that he does not have sufficient personnel to investigate the constant backlog of cases, since even judges—who also have little trust in the judiciary—continually send him additional cases to investigate.

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Possibilities for Effective Reform Exposure of the above weaknesses could provide a basis for effective reform. In 2004, for example, the Justice Ministry began evaluating the PFA fifty-eight comisarías using financial and professional awards for those who lower crime rates. The government is also using new ways to investigate wayward officers, such as through new citizen channels and by not re-assigning an accused officer to a position, which forces them to retire after two years. More could be done. Because the city’s efforts enjoy wide support in the neighborhoods, the federal government should work to integrate these efforts with the PFA, by using joint patrols and coordinating office hours in police stations.9 The government should also civilianize both the legal and financial branches of internal affairs to make prosecution efforts more consistent and transparent. Executive officials say off the record that well over 80 percent of top officials are corrupt, but they lack the information and power to prosecute most of them. Almost the entire top echelon of the PFA, nevertheless, was aggrieved by Kirchner’s dismissal of 107 of their colleagues. In a meeting in May 2004, each of the top officials claimed that he could be fired next and without due cause or redress. As this book describes, the politicized and arbitrary nature of many police reforms is a problem throughout Latin America. New executives often carry out sweeping changes in order to assert control and demonstrate commitment to change, but such actions often backfire by triggering police resistance. Such an approach would be unnecessary with an effective, open, and independent internal affairs agency. With such an agency, the President could prosecute officials in a way that is transparent and thus more likely to have popular support (since the reasons for the action would be public) and incur less police resistance (since it is harder to refute legal charges than complain about political maneuvering). With just one-third of all police officers in the streets, civilianizing internal affairs would also free up more police for street policing—further augmenting public support. There is also a need for revamped education curricula and for joint policy efforts of government, police, and NGOs. A productive resolution to the tension between traditional and problem-oriented policing, in short, will depend on overhauling both the structure and training, building in oversight and incentives for improvement. Adoption of such changes will require negotiating a difficult political and institutional terrain that also characterizes most of the country’s provinces. Citizen Security Reform in the Provinces Crime reached record levels throughout Argentina in the 1990s. During the 1980s, in most provinces the number of crimes for every 10,000 people was

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well below 200, but rose from 155 in 1989 to 350 in 2003. Police violence grew at the same time: There were 435 documented killings by police officers between 1993 and 1998, only 10 percent of which were fully prosecuted.10 These increases, along with growing pressure by human rights organizations, brought citizen security and criminal justice policy under greater scrutiny. In particular, the effects of low remuneration, poor training, weak discipline, violence, and corruption became increasingly apparent. Along with the courts’ inefficiency, the volatile combination of high crime and police violence brought the security issue to a crisis point. This was clearest in the provinces of Mendoza, Buenos Aires, Neuquén, and Córdoba, which had the highest rates of criminal and police violence. Gradually, policing based on centralized and repressive power began giving way to decentralization, institutional transparency, and community involvement. These changes began in the early 1990s and increased towards the end of the decade. Developments in Security Structures Despite great differences in the resulting laws, there were significant provincial police reforms. Most have overhauled their security structures, initially by forming civilian-led Ministries of Justice and Security and flattening militarized hierarchies. Many provinces have divided up their agencies into functional divisions of separate preventative and investigatory units, as well as into geographic divisions to correspond to provincial judicial districts. More common is the formation of internal affairs units, disciplinary bodies, and general ombudsmen, as in San Luis and Mendoza. Buenos Aires, San Luis, and Mendoza have also created new police academies—stressing human rights and administered by non-police officials. Others like Córdoba gave their academies new curricula and entrance requirements. Santa Fe has been a leader in advancing merit-based promotion. The most extensive and innovative area of reform in Argentina is in community policing and forming citizen councils, neighborhood watches, and social programs for at-risk groups such as youth. Along with the Federal Capital and Buenos Aires province, thirteen provinces have begun community policing programs. Eleven provinces have revised their penal or penal process codes, in addition, and thirteen have reformed their judiciaries. As with the new penal process codes adopted throughout Latin America, those in Argentina’s provinces limit police responsibilities to investigation under the direction of a strengthened prosecutor (Fiscalía General). These codes replace long-standing written inquisitorial trials with oral accusatorial trials; and give more power to judges, often through creating specialized courts for detainee rights and sentencing. Judicial councils that select and oversee judges—taking these powers away from the executive—have been set

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up to increase transparency and accountability. In the early 1990s Córdoba enacted a very rigorous selection process for judges and established an ombudsman. This process made the judicial police dependent on the Supreme Court, which is a significant change, since judicial police within the executive often carry out the executive’s political agenda in the criminal justice system. Together, these reforms have added up to a significant shift in many provinces. San Luis, for example, formed an ombudsman, a human rights commission, and a new police academy under the Education Ministry. The provinces where such pressure resulted in the most widespread reforms were Buenos Aires, home to a third of the national population, and Mendoza, an Andean province with the country’s second highest crime rate. In Buenos Aires, the 48,500-officer police force, known as the Bonarense, is the country’s largest. It has a history of abuse, including operating eight clandestine detention centers during the Proceso. Since the return to democracy, the agency’s officers have been implicated in drug trafficking, torture, bribery, extra-judicial killings, extortion, drug trafficking, “trigger happy” shootings, and the 1994 AMIA bombing. As in the Federal District, much of the police power came from its wide range of edicts, including fifty in the 1970 Código de Faltas (Misdemeanor Code) that allowed for arrest. Control over abuses was poor; the Human Rights Commission and the provincial legislature’s Human Rights Commission were weak, as was rights education in the police academies. This power was augmented by the government’s hard line against crime, often led by former Proceso officials who became police comisarios. But support for a mano dura gradually diminished as it failed to slow down a crime rate that rose 95 percent, from 40 per 100,000 people in 1987 to 152 in 1997. Crime was particularly harsh in the Conurbano—the impoverished urban belt surrounding the national capital, which registered 156 crimes per 100,000 people in 1997.11 Rising Crime and Corruption: Renewed Reform The combination of rampant crime, abuse, and corruption finally prompted reform. After the legislature enacted the executive’s request for a state of emergency in December 1996, the government split the unitary police force into preventative and judicial bodies, fired over 200 officers, formed a judicial police, and approved a new penal process code, altering a slow and biased criminal justice system by shifting control of investigation to the prosecutor. It created a new level of judges to oversee detainee rights, and bolstered individual liberties by prohibiting gathering information on citizens unrelated to a criminal investigation. But this reform was immediately resisted and diluted by the police, mayors, local officials, and Peronist party operatives. The victory of the

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opposition Alianza in the October 1997 elections then forced the governor to go back to the drawing board. Conditions in the province continued to deteriorate and to impinge on the presidential candidacy of Governor Eduardo Duhalde, who jump-started police reform in December 1997. He dismissed nearly 5,000 officials, established a Ministry of Justice and Security and divided the core police body, the preventative 35,000-officer Security Police, into the province’s eighteen judicial departments, each run by an official directly accountable to the province’s civilian Secretary of Justice and Security. Also formed were the Science, Transport, and Special Force for Detainees, as well as an investigative police to work with the judicial police to help alleviate the previous reform’s lack of support for the prosecutor. While under the old structure, a police chief headed a single hierarchy of nine departments, each in charge of an area like narco-trafficking, the new force was divided into five separate entities run by a civilian chief. This reform also created citizen forums at the neighborhood, municipal, and departmental levels to develop community policing and channel complaints. The legislature also formed a Congressional Bicameral Commission; the Security and Criminal Policy Institute to oversee the changes; the Office of Control of Corruption and Abuse; and the Office of Evaluation of Information for Crime Prevention to develop intelligence and crime prevention policies and to investigate police abuses.12 In addition, the 35,000 penal cases being directed by the police were re-sent to the judiciary, and the construction of new prison facilities was approved. Education programs to re-train the police were also formed, the academies were overhauled, and León Arslanián, head of the ICPS and a central figure in the reform, was appointed head of the new provincial Ministry of Justice and Security. The reform also had a strong community policing component. It established Neighborhood Security Forums (Foros Vecinales de Seguridad) and Department Security Forums (Foro Departamental) to facilitate citizen participation in security policy. In addition the position of Municipal Security Defender (Defensor Municipal de Seguridad) was established to coordinate security programs at the local level. But climbing crime rates, combined with police resistance to change and public pressure for a mano dura, led to the reform’s demise. Upon its enactment, top officers, inflamed by corruption trials and mass dismissals, began organizing to stop the changes. Aided by Peronist senators and party leaders, this backlash exposed rifts within the ruling party as well as involvement of political officials in lucrative and deep-rooted networks of corruption. Violent retributions were carried out among the police, while the number of civilians killed by the police shot up from about 120 in 1998 to over 200 in 1999. Only 22 of the province’s 134 municipalities elected Municipal Security Defenders, only 102 of the 330 police stations established Neighborhood Security Forums

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and no Department Security Forum was formed. Within the criminal justice system, a lack of material and human resources scuttled the transfer of power to prosecutors in need of training, resulting in the continuation of bias, corruption, and police power over much of the process. There were also delays in constructing new penitentiary facilities, with over 3,700 detainees remaining in police station jails at the end of 1999. The Office of Evaluation of Information for Crime Prevention was not established, nor were the necessary organizational regulations of the Office of Complex Investigations and Narco-Criminality put in place. The police were able to ignore oversight bodies created by the reform, such as the Office of Control of Corruption. As for education, only 11,000 officers were given the new training formulated as part of the overall reform. Amid ongoing pressure to crack down on crime, in April 1999 the legislature approved the governor’s request to expand the legal time of police detention to twenty-four hours.13 The 1999 governor’s race provided a political channel for the anti-reform backlash. With the campaign platform of “Bullets for Murderers,” Peronist candidate and national vice president Carlos Ruckauf justified police killings by asserting that “the bullet that kills the delinquent” is “society’s response to the bullet that kills innocent people.”14 After winning the election, Ruckauf deprived the security reform of funding, and appointed a right-wing former military official who led a military uprising in the late 1980s, and who said that “it is necessary to kill [delinquents] in the street without any doubt and without having pity”15—as the province’s Chief of Security.16 The new governor favored restricting bail and widening the police’s powers to question prisoners and to conduct random searches. Continuing increases in crime with robbery and assault rising by 46 percent between 1997 and 199917, also fueled a popular clamor to scrap the entire 1997–1998 reform in favor of more immediate action such as police crackdowns on youth offenders. The 2001 crisis and subsequent election cycles again shook up politics and policies in the province. As crime continued to rise to 2,124 crimes per 100,000 people in 2000, many officers were killed by angry mobs in 2002. There were also attacks on police stations in areas where the police had been complicit in kidnappings. Ruckauf ’s successor, Felipe Solá, lost political support after the killing of two demonstrators in June 2002. Disillusionment in the province led to a scathing letter from a Conurbano police chief to President Duhalde for leaving the force “in rags.”18 Despite the mass prison riots in 1994 that were the most deadly in Argentina history, the provincial penitentiary system also remains in a state of collapse. While the reform dismantled many corrupt sectors in the police, it failed to institutionalize the fight against corruption through measures such as better oversight and higher salaries.19

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Renewed Reform Initiatives With a stabilization of conditions after 2002, and the election of new reformers in 2003, the government tried to regain the initiative after re-appointing Arslanián, the architect of the ill-fated 1997–1998 reform. He revived many of its provisions and proposed many new innovative ones, such as allowing citizen councils to select their police chiefs, decide on promotions and the formation of a special police for the Conurbano. The government also encouraged local efforts. Alongside the provincial effort, cities such as Morón, La Plata, and Ituzaingo have responded to demands for citizen security by establishing programs such as youth centers, free telephone lines, and placing law student interns in police stations. With Buenos Aires’s experience in mind, other provinces are realizing the necessity of reform but are treading carefully. Throughout the country, the three main areas of reform—new penal process codes, restructuring of police agencies, and community policing—continue to be stalled by the conflict between rights norms and popular demand for a mano dura. This division between ‘public order’ and ‘human rights,’ seen in both the Federal Capital and Buenos Aires province, has shaped security policy in most provinces and has allowed political and institutional resistance to prevent real change. Political obstruction can be seen in a lack of support for the basic training needed to get new programs started. Many governments refuse to continue their predecessors’ legislation. Police have cast reform as a threat to crime fighting. Institutional resistance perpetuates deficiencies of the state agencies responsible for criminal justice—the executive branch, the legislature, the courts, the police, the prosecutor (Fiscalía General), and the penitentiary system. Anticipating such resistance, many governors and executive officials avoid promoting long-term solutions involving institutional change. The political fractionalization that has weakened many provincial legislatures and other representative bodies further reduces the likelihood of progress in policing and rights. The majority of provincial citizen security reforms, in short, seem destined to fail or be neutralized by political and institutional conditions. Nevertheless, one of the benefits of Argentine federalism is that conditions supportive of reform, with real debate and committed governments, are able to develop in the country. Two of those provinces, with mixed but still evolving results, are Mendoza and La Rioja. While these are the two provinces that have advanced farthest on police reform, Mendoza illustrates the risks of doing so amid unstable politics and overly ambitious objectives. In contrast, La Rioja demonstrates how careful reform, based on programs that have been enacted and enjoy citizen support, can be the basis for a comprehensive move towards problem-oriented policing.

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Mendoza Ambitious Reforms In 1999, Mendoza implemented one of the country’s most ambitious and wide-ranging citizen security reforms, catalyzed by one of its highest crime rates and one of its worst records of police abuse, including a series of police killings throughout the 1990s. As crime jumped from 132 crimes per 100,000 residents in 1987 to 428 in 1997, the 6,297-strong police force, whose highly militarized structure was established in 1983,20 came under great criticism, with polls since 1995 revealing that about 60 percent of citizens felt unprotected and under-served.21 Police violence also continued to be among Argentina’s worst. In the number of reported cases of police violence between August 1986 and December 1996, Mendoza had “one case per 48,676 residents, while Buenos Aires has one case for every 212,371, the Federal Capital registered one case per 275,262 and Córdoba one case per 325,526 residents.”22 This publicity increased pressure on the government. Mendoza’s criminal justice, like that in the rest of the country, was characterized by an overload of cases and the lack of training, technology, and adequate salaries. Because of the resulting delays, about half of all detainees in its inhumanely overcrowded prisons were trapped in the pre-sentence phase. It took a combination of more abuses, a crime wave, and police rebellion to finally push through actual reform. In October 1997, the death of a Buenos Aires youth, Luis Alberto Bordón, in a police station, exposed cover-ups, hidden evidence, public deception, and possibly homicide by the police. It prompted Peronist governor Arturo Lafalla to dismiss the Government Minister and top police officers.23 Incensed by police lies and fabricated evidence in the Bordón case and faced with public criticism, in early 1998 Lafalla formulated the Strategic Plan of Security and Prevention of “Anti-Social” Conduct (Plan Estratégico de Seguridad y Prevention de Conducta Anti-Social) that emphasized human rights, citizen participation, a clearer penal code, a stronger Fiscalía, and community policing. Reforms of the Penal and Penal Process Codes were introduced at the same time. Little in the form of concrete laws was drafted, however, as a 24 percent rise in crime made legislators cautious. But then, in October 1998, officers walked off the job, demanding changes such as salary increases, adequate equipment, more manageable work shifts, payment for overtime, participation in reform, suspension of the protection of banks and private businesses, a more formalized personnel hierarchy, and reform of the province’s penal and penal process codes. After drawn-out negotiations ended the strike, the province’s main political parties—the Peronistas, the Partido Democrático (PD), and the Alianza—enacted laws creating the Ministry of Justice and Secu-

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rity that would be run by a civilian with jurisdiction over all security and criminal justice issues. A year later, the legislature approved two laws that decentralized the police into four district units corresponding to the province’s four judicial districts, each led by a government-appointed District Security Chief responsible for the jefatura (top staff). Also established were a Liaison Unit to coordinate actions by the four districts, a judicial police with separate divisions corresponding to different crimes, a Department Inspection of Judicial Comisarías to carry out investigations in the metropolitan urban area of the capital city, Mendoza, and a Scientific Unit. Re-linking Police and Society: A Broad Range of Reforms Since a central objective of the restructuring was to fortify the police’s connection to society, the police placed nearly a thousand extra officers on the streets of Mendoza and began to re-focus policing by organizing new officers into teams that would focus their efforts on block-by-block prevention. The reform also eliminated the distinction between the official corps and the sub-official corps and established a congressional bicameral security commission. As in Buenos Aires, Neighborhood Forums (Foros Vecinales) were also formed, as were a Coordinator of Security to coordinate police-society relations; and Department Security Councils (Consejos Departamentales de Seguridad) of municipal officials, police, and citizens. Several municipalities have gone even further, with extensive social programs to back up security forums—such as in Las Heras, the poorest part of Mendoza, with 250,000 residents. To investigate police wrongdoing, the General Inspector of Security (IGS: Inspección General de Seguridad) was created within the Ministry of Justice and Security and was comprised of three members, one from each major party. It is empowered to carry out administrative investigations, report criminal activities among the police, carry out regular inspections, receive complaints and reports of wrongdoing, and participate in police promotions. It is supported by the Disciplinary Board (Junta de Disciplina), which prosecutes errant officers. The reform revised police education through the new academy, the University Institute of Public Security (IUSP: Instituto Universitario de Seguridad Pública), which replaced the Escuela de Oficiales and the Escuela de Cadetes. The IUSP has a fouryear curriculum covering law, society, and operations, and is supported by cooperative education programs with the Universidad Nacional de Cuyo. This reform had the potential for success: it was comprehensive, covered each stage of criminal justice, and enjoyed a consensus among the three parties.24 The police’s new civilian leadership helped to transform the agency from a centralized militarized paradigm to a decentralized, community-based one. The Foros Vecinales that were up and running became the sources of

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many projects and ideas that further promoted this change, such as alarmas comunitarias, which alerted all the homes in a community when a robbery or other crime took place in one of them. The reform has also been strengthened by many additional programs and efforts, such as a School for Fathers geared toward recuperation of self-esteem, an anti-family violence project, and local health centers. These programs also paved the way to additional efforts to provide greater professional support for the police. A new Personnel Law, for example, includes training programs for prison officials, relieving the police of much of this responsibility. Education has been broadened with training academies in seven locations, and the IUSP has improved training for the judicial police. Because half of the police personnel do not own their own homes, and most live in high conflict areas, one program helps them secure bank loans at favorable rates. Promotion is now more equitable, based on a score of 0-20 calculated by specific criteria such as community relations, awards, and sanctions, with seniority counting as just 30 percent of the score, far below the rate in most other provinces. Community policing is also being revived by the current government of Julio Cobos, who is responding to the fact that security is by far the biggest point of criticism of his administration.25 Though police resistance and political divisions have impeded plans for an overhaul of the entire provincial police based on community policing, the mayors of Guaymallén and Las Heras, the province’s most populous municipalities, are beginning to formulate community policing projects for their own areas. Reforms: Conflict and Resistance When first implemented, Mendoza’s security reform spurred “ferocious resistance” by the police who, as in Buenos Aires, had been left out of its formation.26 After the 1999 elections, more significantly, the new laws withered under the Radical Party government that was elected, which did not want to promote a policy of the previous Peronist administration. Though officials did not admit to deliberate sabotage, their resistance was backed up by promano dura blocs in all three government branches. Judges, for example, continued to send detainees to a 100-year-old prison built to house between 700 and 900 inmates but currently holding over 2,200. Disputes over how many officers should continue working in the administration block needed personnel improvements.27 Transferring investigative responsibility to the prosecutor was slowly and erratically implemented, leaving street officers responsible for most investigations. Such delay caused a huge amount of bureaucracy and waste. It was typical, for example, for an officer to spend an entire day completing the expediente, the first stage in the criminal justice

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process. The crime rate, meanwhile, had climbed to 570 crimes per 100,000 people in 2000. Officers, as a result, had become more demoralized and frustrated. One of the reform’s specific goals was to increase the force to 9,500 police officers, but the actual number has remained far below that. In interviews, the police complained about the lack of resources—saying that they had just four radios for ninety officers, and just one bullet-proof vest for every four officers. To make up that deficit, officers took measures that actually eroded security. To get more police on the street, an Auxiliary Police was formed in 2000, with about 1,200 officers receiving a twenty-four-week training course. Because these officers were not sufficiently prepared, the province later formed a School of Auxiliaries. But this school has been of marginal help, and auxiliaries who want to enter into the regular police career are required to keep working, which has led many of them to abandon their posts. In addition, the mayor of Mendoza city created his own ‘community police,’ which was just another poorly trained agency that ended up being disbanded in 2005 after its officers killed two civilians. Continued Confusion and Problems of Law Enforcement Despite the creation of the Justice and Security Ministry, citizen security policy has continued to be confused and polemic. In March 2002, for example, the government proposed mano dura laws to permit searches and seizures by the police without the intervention of a judge, and to further restrict release from prison. Two legal opinions approved by the majority of the Penal Law Commission of the Bar Association, however, declared the two bills unconstitutional. Control over police abuse also fell short of the reform’s expectations. The General Inspector of Security (IGS) is inundated with minor complaints, personnel disputes, and other cases that exceed the capacity to process them. The IGS’ original plan was to train civilian investigators, but because of a lack of resources and training, according to IGS commissioners, 90 percent of investigations were conducted by police officials and proposals to separate minor from serious abuses have gone unheeded. Most IGS members, as a result, have short stints—which further harms the agency. Citizens are suspicious of the IGS not only because of these conditions, but because they cannot easily access it. It is housed deep inside police headquarters, which is intimidating to anyone bringing complaints. The Junta de Disciplina barely functions since its job is to follow up on IGS investigations. The new academy, furthermore, is having less of an impact that hoped. Although the IUSP’s curriculum covers four broad areas—humanities, juridical, technical, and special programs, the director acknowledges that it is weak on the training geared toward prevention and new forms of crime.

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These problems contribute to ongoing weakness in the actual work of law enforcement: investigation, information analysis, and prosecution. The jefaturas, who are not held responsible for results in their areas, lack anti-crime plans and can advance in their careers without doing anything in particular. Crime maps are published, but even with an Office of Victim Assistance there are no victimization surveys. And even within the Department of Criminal Intelligence, information remains disorganized. One judge complained about the inability to find a detainee’s record without going to all the courts. Prosecutors and defense lawyers both assert that the police are incapable of carrying out investigations, while judges at all levels complain about the lack of funds for the new code as well as the resistance by colleagues who are invested in the old one.28 Finally, there is no community policing in most high-conflict areas, with the citizen committees that have been set up in other areas rarely meeting. To maintain adequate security in the neighborhoods, say most police officers, at least ten more Department Security Councils are needed in addition to the current eight that are functioning. The rotation of officers also prevents the development of police-citizen bonds that underlie successful community policing. As crime rises and the number of youth gangs increases, the police resort to traditional modes, with checking for a police record providing a common basis for detention. More youths are being sentenced to life terms, and there is a lack of attention to freed prisoners. Promotion in the police is still eased by good political relations, or, even better, a political patron. Lafalla, the governor who enacted Mendoza’s 1999 Citizen Security Reform, says the essential problem is that “government does not direct the police—it names the police chief and then leaves them.” Combined with a lack of follow-up from the political opposition and the press, he believes, this lack of government action led the 1999 reform to fail.29 While public and political pressure has gradually increased since then, spurred in part by the failure of this promising reform, the absence of any agreement on how to move forward is likely to continue to stymie change. La Rioja Citizen Security Reform The majority of Argentine provinces are rural and poor, with a small political elite and a workforce dependent on state jobs. Among these provinces, La Rioja is typical—poor, rural, home to the powerful Menem family, with over 70 percent of workers employed by the government. Unlike other provinces, though, it has developed conditions amenable for citizen security reform, such as low crime rates and a government that, armed with a detailed manual,

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is planning to recast the provincial police force on a community-oriented model. The fourth and fifth of the capital city’s seven comisarías have adopted pilot community policing programs, which became popular among both residents and police officers. Other communities have asked for such programs, and some have set up prototypes, such as collective alarm systems in which a crime in one home alerts all neighboring residences. Most of the province’s community-policing programs focus on youth, who are seen as the main source of crime and insecurity. The first step was the 2003 formation of the Community Prevention Brigade to work with youth at risk in twenty-five neighborhoods. Within a few months, the program’s ten trained officers had drawn up a map of the territories of the city’s estimated fourteen major gangs. There are also programs to deal with and prevent domestic violence. The Integration Program (Programa Integrar) gives stipends to youth in a work program. An Ecological Brigade trains twenty youths in environmental fields such as how to make potable water. There is an Education Center for eighty ex-gang members, along with a treatment center for youth offenders, and an intra-Institutional Coordinating Committee for Youth with interventions tailored to youth at different levels of risk. The Operative Councils of Intersectional Coordination (COCI) has also lowered youth crime through efforts at school re-integration, support for parents, and specialized programs such as You Choose to help keep kids away from drugs and crime. Of the 300 to 400 youths estimated to be at risk, officials say that programs can reach up to 90 percent of them. And in areas where these programs have been established, residents note the visible reduction of crime and fear. Many officials involved in community policing report that parents ask them for support with their kids. Reforms: An Uphill Battle Even with such progress, obstacles throughout La Rioja’s state, police, and society demonstrate that citizen security reform is still an uphill struggle. The biggest obstruction is the police, most of whose chiefs flatly assert that they have neither the time nor the resources for reform. More precisely, they are too fed-up with the lack of both openness to change that would make their work easier and more effective. Despite the fact that complaints over resources are endemic in most police forces, the insufficiency of resources in La Rioja is obvious. One comisaría has just one vehicle to patrol dozens of neighborhoods, and, of the six officers on each of the three shifts, only three are on the street because the rest are regularly assigned to guard prisoners or political officials. Most police say that they lack vehicles to patrol most areas and spend up to 60 percent of their time on administration. Because of their low salaries—a street officer earns just $250 a month, and a sub-comisario around

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$400—most officers moonlight for banks and other private businesses. So asking them to spend more time talking with citizens and attending neighborhood meetings without corresponding changes in salary or schedule is neither welcome nor feasible. Even the community policing corps itself faces a serious shortage—it has 58 officers to cover 31 neighbourhoods, but needs at least 108. This thin, non-transparent, and to the police, unjust distribution of personnel comes from poor planning and evaluation by the human resources department. There are no regular studies of whether the current distribution reflects the city’s overall needs or those of particular neighborhoods. Each comisaría always has the same number, and the fact is not lost on everyone that the salary of one retiring officer could pay for two new ones. As in other provinces, the police underutilize the specialists it does have. Of the 10–15 percent of provincial police officials with special training, such as in financial crimes, only 3 percent are actually using this training. Institutional Weaknesses to Carry Through Reforms Along with police resistance, police management has slowed down reform. In La Rioja, as in most of Argentina, management is one of the weakest links. Above all, there is inadequate training and support for street officers to prevent crime and earn citizen trust. Most police are assigned to simply monitor a streetcorner—“to look but not to see,” in the words of one officer. Many refrain from acting because they lack instructions, autonomy, radios and the confidence that they will be backed up by their supervisors. This lack of support stems in part from the fact that comisarios themselves are not evaluated on their management. If they are at the station during work hours, as one police official stated, they are considered good, a far cry from the expectations of problem-oriented policing. Even reforms that are supported by comisarios often do not survive them. When La Rioja’s two pro-community policing comisarios left their positions, according to their subordinates, the new chiefs were simply “not convinced” they were needed. Discussions in comisarías clearly indicate far more understanding and support for community policing among the lower ranks than the upper ranks. But with the separation in ranks between officers and sub-commissioned officers, as in most provinces, the influence of the lower-ranking officials is minimal. The low salaries, constant pressures, limited professional aspirations, and pervasive favoritism in the lower ranks also deflates these officers’ interest in taking a risk by promoting change. Investigation is also weak in La Rioja and other provinces. Efforts to better coordinate street policing with Judicial Police investigation are lagging, while resource-deprived crime labs resolve very few crimes through scientific inves-

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tigation. More broadly, criminal statistics are insufficiently collected, studied and distributed. In La Rioja the headquarters’ Control Center has begun to collect and analyze neighborhood statistics in order to tailor specific responses for them. But most information is not regularly distributed to the comisarías, who do have crime maps, but usually on paper sheets that are not readily available to most officers. They also lack regular updates on the location, time, and manner of different crimes, comparative district reports on crimes in the previous day, week, and month, and even the names of residents being released from jail. The effects of such limited information are compounded by comisarías lack of autonomy to use the information they do have. As seen in cases such as Uruguay and other countries, greater comisaría autonomy boosts police effectiveness, not only by allowing for quicker responses but by making residents more likely to work with the local police because they know they will not have to wait for decisions or resources from the center. As in Mendoza, another weak part of the police is Internal Affairs, both on dealing with personnel complaints within the agency and with citizen complaints against it. Norms and procedures are haphazardly followed, say police, without even a standard complaint form. Despite an advisory council of citizens, all Internal Affairs personnel are police officials, and even when they do act in a rapid and just manner, the Security Secretariat reserves the power to make the final decision. Despite persistent charges of systemic police abuse, official investigation tends to downplay charges or treats each incident as an isolated one. More Problem-oriented Policing? Beyond the police, provincial politics are additional obstacles to change. Relations between the city and state governments further inhibit problem-oriented policing. The mayor and governor, from different parties, promote different citizen security plans, aggravating institutional territoriality among social service agencies, such as education, health, and infrastructure. An example that is frequently pointed out is the lack of collaboration between the police and schools that is critical to the success of youth-oriented citizensecurity reform. The first lesson of the 2003 formation of the Brigada was that information was not followed up with actual strategies, and non-police agencies continued to be reluctant to get involved in what they regarded as a police matter. Poor collaboration and unshared information also characterize policejudicial relations, leaving basic decisions, such as responsibility for punishing misdemeanors, unresolved. As with the police, the judiciary faces continuous resource shortfalls. Despite a population boom in the 1990s, the province still has only three first-level courts. And although the province has adopted oral

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trials for most criminal cases, which tend to speed up trials, the judiciary hands down fewer than 60 sentences for every 6,000 crimes. The same judge oversees the investigation as well as sentencing, with some courts handling up to 9,000 cases. Together, these problems throughout the provincial government weaken enforcement of the law. One of the biggest causes of disorder in La Rioja is excessive alcohol consumption, but the clear provisions of La Rioja’s detailed Law of Prevention of Alcohol Consumption are openly flaunted. Drug abuse and sniffing glue are even more serious problems with even less effective laws; dealers still easily buy bicycle glue downtown for sale in residential areas. Problemoriented policing is far more productive than the traditional version policing in dealing with socioeconomic problems because it addresses causes rather than just responding to transgressions. It is better at helping people to limit consumption, or, when that fails, to identify those who do not do so. NGO Involvement Participation is also low among established civil society organizations such as the church and the bar association. These organizations have both the professional background and societal legitimacy to bridge the divide between state and society on citizen security. Of the twenty groups that residents in our survey cited as being active in citizen security, thirteen were government Neighborhood Councils (which coordinate neighborhood projects) while three were small NGOs working on security issues. A survey of 70 La Rioja residents and police officers was carried out in 2005 and 2006 as part of the project Best Practices in Community Policing in Latin America, of the City University of New York (CUNY). Included were the church, a religious organization, a sports association, and a business. In many U.S. cities, in contrast, these organizations play leading roles. In particular, Business Improvement Districts (BIDs) formed by local firms provide a boost to security by giving jobs to youth, cleaning up commercial areas, and monitoring activity. In many U.S. cities, BIDs have improved relations between the police and the community while cutting down on prostitution, vandalism, and drug trafficking. But in La Rioja and many other Argentina provinces, there are not enough small businesses willing to create a viable program or even to give jobs to youth. With the state, agriculture, and mining absorbing nearly the entire labor pool, rates similar to other provinces, such private sector jobs are not particularly viable in any case. Little Police Enthusiasm for Community Policing With so many un-enforced laws and un-enacted plans, there is little enthusiasm for community policing among the police, who see it as another idea imposed from outside without adequate support. Community-policing projects that es-

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tablished small police modules staffed by one or two officials failed when there were no personnel to fill them. Only about a fifth of all police favor the concept of community policing, with very few top officials among them. Police professionalism, according to the chiefs of the police academies, requires officers to separate themselves from the community, not become closer to it. Even the wellregarded Community Prevention Brigade was technically not considered community policing, since it centered on undercover work rather than cooperative citizen projects. Combined with militarized training, most of Argentina’s police continue to use the training curricula created during the 1976–1983 dictatorship. These curricula lead many police to continue regarding delinquents as “enemies” and to maintain a suspicious, often aggressive and sometimes violent approach toward youth suspects. Education and curricula have paid greater attention to civil rights over the past twenty years, of course, but of the fortytwo courses in the three years of La Rioja officers’ education, just two are on human rights and social relations. Other courses incorporate these issues, and the curriculum is supplemented by a three-day course by the Human Rights Commission to the police on UN principles. But when human rights are presented in a separate or special course that is not integrated in police training, it plays only a minor role in actual police operations. A survey carried out by a joint project of the City University of New York and University of Aconcagua in Mendoza interviewed seventy people about the province’s community policing. Among those interviewed, there were forty-six community members, twenty police officers, and four government officials indicating strong citizen support for community policing but insufficient material backing.30 Although the pool of respondents is weighed heavily in favor of those willing to participate (who tend to have more positive views of or connections with state agencies), about 80 percent of those interviewed say that the police listen to citizens and that communications between the police and citizens have improved. The principal reasons they give for this change is a positive change of attitude among the police, prioritization on prevention, and projects in which the police work directly with civilians. On particular issues, the percentage of those answering that the police have been “very, somewhat, or more or less successful” ranges from 66 percent on violent crimes, 67 percent on property crimes, 64 percent on drug trafficking, 56 percent on police corruption, and 59 percent on police abuse. Of the program’s benefits, the two main ones mentioned were cooperative projects and a prioritization for youth. Over a dozen deficiencies were mentioned, led by criticism of the lack of continuity, resources, and commitment by government officials. This overview of public opinion on community policing reveals a gap between citizen expectations and state support. Requests for community policing by residents served by all seven comisarías have been met with policy foot-dragging

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and resource tightfistedness. Because of deficiencies in the provincial security system, the rate of cynicism and unreported crime remains high. But support for reform among the citizens, along with new coordinating efforts by the government, may make La Rioja the first province to adopt comprehensive structural police reform based on problem-oriented policing, thus demonstrating the possibility of moving beyond traditional repression-based tactics. In particular, La Rioja’s focus on youths might be the wedge to break the police and state’s hostility to this key sector of the population, whose treatment in turn affects policing well into the future. Conclusion As seen in Buenos Aires, Mendoza, and La Rioja, police reform in Argentina faces an uphill struggle. For the past ten years, these efforts have been caught up in the conflict between public order, in which public demands for a crackdown on crime tap into the police’s authoritarian practices, and human rights, in which the brutality of past dictatorships, the ineffectiveness of repressive policing, and the expansion of civil society are promoting preventative and community-based policing. Because this conflict is unfolding within the country’s dynamic and open political process, it gradually leads to changes that can reconcile these differences by improving police operations while also respecting human rights. Although this process is characterized by polemic debates and limited resources, it is bringing about more effective and realistic police reform by trial and error, through learning from other provinces’ mistakes, and through the growing power of governmental reformers. In large urban provinces such as Buenos Aires and Mendoza, the weaknesses of past reforms are being addressed through more modest and focused changes. While most of the poorer, rural provinces remain inimical to reform, those with a pro-reform administration—like La Rioja—are considering comprehensive changes. Provincial efforts may also be boosted by the federal government’s attempts to address citizen security through its own national programs centered on crime prevention and strengthening institutions. As support for problem-oriented policing opens up opportunities for local and provincial reformers to introduce change in Argentina, the plans that are implemented will then have to confront the same kinds of institutional and political obstacles that have impeded past reforms. How successfully Argentina’s provinces overcome those obstacles will then provide critical lessons for other countries around the region, where the debate between traditional and problem-oriented policing is beginning to take shape.

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Notes 1. Centro de Estudios Legales y Sociales (CELS) and Americas Watch, Police Violence in Argentina, (Buenos Aires: CELS, December 1991), p. 7; and Rock 1985: 363. 2. In 1991 the death of a seventeen year old in a police station prompted Congress to modify the PFA Organic Law to allow detention only for a reasonable suspicion of criminal activity (or inability to produce identification), and to reduce from twenty-four to ten hours the maximum time allowed for such detentions. Menem vetoed 23.950/91, arguing that ten hours was not enough time for adequate investigation, but was overridden by Congress. In November 1994, Law 24390 prohibited preventive detention for more than two years—a limit that continues to be routinely superseded. 3. Instituto Nacional de Estadísticas y Censos (INDEC); Registro Nacional de Reincidencia y Estadística Criminal, 2000: 38. 4. Argentina’s poverty rose from 22 percent to 43 percent (all figures in this chapter are rounded off) between 1990 and 2000, and the number of homes lacking some basic needs rose from 7.1 million in 1980 to 8.56 million in 1991. 5. Mariano Ciafardini, National Director of Criminal Policy, author interview, October 18, 1994. 6. Senado de la Nación, “Informe sobre el desarrollo humano en la provincia de Buenos Aires: 238 and 242. 7. Along with smaller federal forces, such as the Gendarmería, there is a total of 138,034 national police personnel. 8. The edicts were replaced by the new Código de Convivencia Urbana, which was approved by then-mayor and later president Fernando de la Rúa, who tried to strengthen the new code after coming under criticism. 9. Observation of the community-policing program of the city of Morón, Buenos Aires province, May 27, 2004; author interview, Claudio Suárez, head of the security program of the Government of the City of Buenos Aires, May26, 2004; author meeting with four coordinators of the City of Buenos Aires security program. 10. Of these killings, the majority were in nine provinces: Buenos Aires with 105 killings, Santa Fe with 54, Capital Federal (44), Córdoba (30), Mendoza (27), Neuquén (13), Corrientes (11), Río Negro (8), and Entre Ríos (7). Coordinadora Contra la Represión Policial e Institucional (CORREPI) (CORREPI) 2002. 11. Saín, Marcelo, Seguridad, democracia y reforma del sistema policial en la Argentina, Buenos Aires: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2002: 85. 12. This Oficina de Control de la Corrupción y Abuso Funcional comprised of a Auditor de Asuntos Internos and a Tribunal de Ética. The new Office of Complex Investigations and Narco-Criminality was formed to re-engineer drug policy, such as by focusing police action on consumption as well as sales. 13. In the months following this change, eight persons were killed by the police and four detainees tortured. 14. Oteiza, Eduardo, “Consecharás tempestades,” Clarín, August 8, 1999. 15. “El carapintada por la boca muere,” Página/12, March 10, 1998, 12.

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16. Rico was on record saying that “it is necessary to kill [delinquents] in the street without any doubt and without having pity.” “El carapintada por la boca muere,” Página/12, March 10, 1998, 12. 17. “Quieren usar custodios privados para prevenir y reprimir delitos,” Clarín, July 28, 1999, 38. 18. Julio César Frutos, Comisario Mayor, Jefe Departamental de Quilmes, “Carta abierta de un policía al Sr. Presidente,” July 2002. 19. In addition, in February 1999, the provincial government formulated a plan to allow an increase from twenty-four to forty-eight hours the time that the police can hold someone detained for identification, and to ease the ability of the police to carry out inspections without previous court authorization. 20. Law 4697 of 1982 and Law 4747. The police was comprised of the command force, responsible for security and functioning as an auxiliary to the judiciary; the support force, which carried out administrative duties, and serves as an auxiliary to the command force; and several special units. 21. Patricia Gorri, Patricia Lecaro, and Marisa Repetto, “La inclusion de la Provincia de Mendoza en la inseguridad,”Mendoza: V Seminario Nacional de RedMuni, La Reforma Municipal Pendiente Perspectivas y Prospectivas, 2003. In a June 1998 poll (Telesurvey: Opinión Pública, Empresa Heriberto Murano), 14 percent of respondents said that crime and insecurity were their biggest concerns, followed by education with 13 percent, corruption with 12 percent and unemployment last with 9 percent—even though the provincial unemployment rate had reached nearly 15 percent. 22. Revista Noticias, November 8, 1997, 126. 23. Revista Noticias, “Cómplices del Silencio”, October 18, 1997, 132. 24. As Lafalla claimed, “The more we see, the more convinced we are that this is a plan that will have to work for all Mendocinos, as well as this and future governors.” Diario Los Andes, “A pesar de la opinión de la gente, Lafalla está más convencido que nunca sobre el plan de seguridad”, October 17, 1998, 2. 25. In a poll asking what the most problematic part of the government was, 54 percent said it was security, followed in a distant second place by salaries at 13 percent. “Las opiniones políticas de los mendocinos,” Los Andes, July 20, 2004. 26. Alejandro Salomón, Secretary of Security, author interview, August 15, 2002. 27. The Senate Security Commission reported that 40 percent of police worked in administration, but the government security chief said that the commission was “lying” and that the number is only 30. 28. Daniel Correllio, Juez de Instrucción, author interview, June 1, 2004; Jorge Nanclares, President, Mendoza Supreme Court, author interview, June 1, 2004. 29. Arturo Lafalla, author interview, June 3, 2004. 30. This survey was funded by the CUNY Collaborative Project on Community Policing of the City University of New York (CUNY) and carried out by Nancy Barrera and Jorge Galleguillo.

9 Policing Insecurity and Police Reform in Mexico City and Beyond Niels Uildriks

ROM HOPE TO DESPAIR AND TENTATIVELY from despair to hope again, is how the Latin American democratization experience with police reform, security and human rights can be summed up. It is the theme that has been running through the different contributions in this volume, with some emphasizing more the first and others the second element. This chapter will focus on the second, setting out to draw some of the main lessons from Mexico’s reform experiences (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming). In the introduction to this volume the complex and troubled relationship between the rise of democracy in Latin America, security and the development of rights-based policing was outlined, a relationship that could also be witnessed in Mexico extensively during the past decade. Mexico was governed by authoritarian one-party rule since 1929 by the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). Its rule came to an end on a local level in Mexico City in 1997 with the election of Cuauhtémoc Cárdenas of the Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD) and on a national level in 2000 with the election of President Vincente Fox, the candidate of the National Action Party (PAN). Fox had been elected on a social reform ticket against a general background of intransigent impunity on the part of the military and the police. He had specifically committed himself to improving Mexico’s notorious human rights record. The initiatives undertaken under Fox offered a mixed picture of different criminal justice reforms. His administration set out to modernize an archaic criminal justice and police system that would introduce both institutional guarantees to address and prevent human rights abuses, but also increase police powers to deal more effectively with organized crime. The success of

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these reforms has been varied, as they have been subjected to the fragmentation and legacy of mistrust characteristic of social and institutional life, with Congress accepting some and blocking others, as well as to the complex political and institutional rivalries between federal and local government. More sucessfully, this was followed by a complete overhaul in the law of the federal police and criminal justice system under the newly elected president Felipe Calderón in 2008 (more extensively Uildriks and Tello, forthcoming). Rather than examining these national reforms some of the main reforms within Mexico DF will be outlined. A discussion of the implications of the Mexican experiences for a number of the leading themes in the literature will follow: What police reforms are necessary to be relevant both in terms of increasing security and improving police adherence to the rule of law and human rights standards? This issue will be addressed specifically by outlining the kind of police reforms that could be meaningful under the local governance of Mexico City. Extending the relevance of these reforms, however, to other Latin American regions with comparable situations may be problematic.

Democratization, Police Reform, and Security in Mexico City Mexico’s democratization process during the 1990s coincided with an upsurge of crime and the resulting insecurity in Mexico City in 1994. This upsurge took place against a background of the peso-crisis of 1994–1995 and major macro-economic changes instigated by the introduction of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), that made the border areas more attractive to domestic and foreign manufacturing firms. The opening up of Mexico’s economy particularly affected Mexico City’s industrial sector, which was incapable of competing and saw its industries relocated in the border areas. The challenges to Mexico’s renewed democratic order have been considerable, both during and after the democratic transition, and both the federal government and Mexico City’s local government have faced continued pressure to tackle public security, corruption and organized crime. Responses to Insecurity Under Democratic Transition The fact that Mexico City’s democratization occurred at a time of surging criminality and insecurity significantly shaped the political response. With the mayoral elections looming in 1997 and in the face of major public concerns about spiralling crime, the city’s last appointed PRI mayor in conjunction with the PRI leadership decided that for a successful re-election bid for mayor an effective strategy to lower the crime rate and improve public security in the city would be crucial (González Ruiz 1998: 90). As the local police were well known for their

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involvement in mafia and drug-running activities—contrasting sharply with the reputation of the military—the main strategy adopted was to ‘militarize’ the city’s police force and to use the army to purge its most corrupt elements. The militarization of Mexico City’s policing turned out to be ineffective. Many of the military officers appointed to clean up the force were found to be just as corrupt as the police they were investigating and several were subsequently jailed for criminal activities (Piñeyro 2004). The introduction of a military element in local policing resulted in strong organizational and cultural rivalries and a battle for control between the police and the military. Neither really wanted to put a stop to drug-related activity but instead to “insert themselves into these lucrative networks of illegal activities . . . to carve out the greatest possible influence” (Davis 2006: 66). Moreover, the routines adopted by army officers upset both the authorities and the public, particularly when these involved violent police raids, with large groups of police entering neighborhoods to search houses and individuals for drugs, weapons and stolen goods. The harsh methods resulted in popular discontent which was also fuelled by citizens preferring to come to ‘arrangements’ with the police, something that is more difficult to do with the army (Pansters and Berthier 2006: 45). The militarization of the police was reversed after Cuauhtémoc Cárdenas, the candidate of the Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD), won Mexico City’s first mayoral election in 1997. His election was accompanied by high expectations about the possibility of eliminating corruption. Cárdenas said he would establish both democracy and order, but do so without military input.1 He was supported by some renegade forces from within the PRI who were familiar with the workings of PRI internal operations and raised expectations that he would be able to end the political dirty tricks that were widely used to sustain the cycle of police corruption and crime. He appointed a political trustee as the district attorney, a reformer who was to fight corruption within the criminal justice system, and also replaced the old corrupt management by officers loyal to the PRD: the historical loyalty of senior officers to the PRI had meant that he could not count on their loyalty to implement his plans. The first newly appointed police chief had, in 1997, been fired following an investigation into his connection with drug traffickers. A university president was appointed as the new city police chief. Under the new attorney and police leadership, tracking devices were introduced in patrol cars to prevent officers from sneaking away from their beats to carry out private extortions. They also appointed a respected human rights activist as head of the police academy. Other reforms introduced at that time involved new procedures for hiring new personnel and formulating alternative mechanisms for police oversight (including the introduction of lie-detector tests for new or re-employed police personnel). This caused resignations among the city’s Judicial Police.

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Overall the reforms were a failure. Beat officers openly defied the new anticorruption measures, refusing to work. Crime rates soared, possibly because of police involvement in criminal acts as a form of retribution, and soon the local chief of police had to acknowledge that the force was out of control (Dillon and Preston 2004: 377). Ultimately, the most obvious effects of the various reforms introduced under Cárdenas were internal strife and fragmentation within the criminal justice system. In response to the reforms most beat officers went on a virtual ‘strike,’ refusing to cooperate in investigations into drug- and other gang-related violence. The cleansing of the judicial police alienated the courts. The reforms on the whole were a failure, not least of all because they failed to solve the government’s inability to legally indict the criminal element within the security forces. Intriguingly Cárdenas’ period as mayor nevertheless saw a gradual reduction of crimes, including violent crimes, reported to Mexico City’s Procurator District Office (PGDF) from 170,000 in 1997 to just over 120,000 in 2000 (Pansters and Berthier 2006: 45). Responses to Insecurity in the Post-PRI Era In spite of a decrease in the level of reported crime during the late 1990s and first years of this century, public pressure to tackle the level of crime and insecurity remained high. In 2000 the PRD candidate López Obrador was inaugurated as the successor of Cárdenas. Obrador’s first major initiative was to increase the coordination of crime prevention, police and securing justice. He sought to territorialize the functions of different agencies involved in providing security and to implement an integrated approach that would reduce crime and ultimately eliminate impunity (Alvarado 2006: 286). As part of this approach, delinquency was to be attacked; social and economic development to be promoted, and the relationship between law enforcement agencies and the general public to be improved. For such a purpose the city was organized into seventy Territorial Coordinations, which were to function as organizational platforms for the collaboration between various government agencies and would also involve citizen participation. In spite of this initiative, Obrador remained under political pressure to launch stronger and more visible measures. In early 2003 he invited the former mayor of New York, Rudolph Giuliani, to discuss how his ‘zero tolerance’ approach in New York could be applied to Mexico City. In New York the zero tolerance policy could be viewed as a political project based on criminological knowledge; in Mexico City it could, in the words of Arroyo, only be a political banner, since the authorities adopted a solution before they fully understood the problem (Arroyo 2003). For ‘zero-tolerance policing’ to have any

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relevance as a crime-control strategy and to be connected to the rule of law, high standards of its police force are required. In the face of an ill-equipped and demoralized police force, any notion of zero-tolerance policing being meaningful in a Mexican is highly naïve. Under Obrador’s leadership public anxiety about security in Mexico City remained. For example, a survey in the capital carried out in August 2003 showed that insecurity was mentioned as the principle problem by 48 percent of the respondents, compared to 12 percent mentioning unemployment. During a series of repeated surveys there were no major shifts in public opinion on this point, but as of May 2003 the results persistently showed that the majority of people considered insecurity the city’s most serious problem (data 2003: 60–62 as cited by Azaola 2006: 11). Anxiety about this manifested itself most visibly in a massive demonstration of some 500,000 people in Mexico City in June 2004 against the city’s lack of security, particularly against kidnappings. In such a context the responses on the part of the authorities have remained heavily politicized, aimed principally at scoring political points. This was most blatantly exhibited in the aftermath of the lynching of three police officers in November 2004 in Tláhuac (a village within the greater region of Mexico City). Local and federal police chiefs and politicians in tit-for-tat exchanges sought to blame one another, particularly along political party lines, exonerating themselves from any responsibility for the failure on the part of the authorities to intervene during the three-hour lynching ordeal.2

Mexican Policing in Crisis In many ways policing in Mexico City is in crisis. The aforementioned Tláhuac lynching of three police officers can be considered an extreme manifestation of this crisis, but it should not be considered an isolated incident as mob lynchings in Mexico are regular occurrences and appear to be on the increase (Vilas 2001; Kossick 2004: 718). There are many areas like Tláhuac where local citizens suffer the same sense of being left to their own devices, and under certain circumstances consider lynching an acceptable response. Public surveys persistently reveal negative views prevailing among the people about police and authorities in general. In certain areas police do not have the most elementary legitimacy whereby the large majority of people consider them fulfilling a meaningful presence or role. With considerable justification, police are felt to be part of the (organized) crime problem as much as the solution to it. With the way police and policing are currently organized these neighborhoods are basically ‘unpoliceable’ in any conventional sense of the term policing.

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Political Policing Any study considering the relevance of police reforms in the context of the democratization of policing and the rule of law will inevitably be confronted with the arbitrary nature of policing, not just in Mexico but in most of Latin America; in other words, with the fact that crime fighting is heavily politicized. Huggins uses the term ‘political policing’ to characterize policing in the region, at the same time considering that “all policing is political, ranging on a continuum from police being very visible handmaids of organized power, as historically evident in much of Latin America, to their relationship to power being obscured by ideologies of democracy and social control that claim to make police mere extensions of a class-neutral state and the people” (1998: 9). Policing arguably is always political, but it is clearly more political in some societies than in others. Throughout Latin America—with the exception of Chile—this is a manifest characteristic of policing, reflecting economic and social inequality and polarization throughout the continent. As Godoy (2006: 11) notes, in deeply unequal societies that are governed by the political economy of neo-liberalism, criminal justice becomes increasingly prominent as a mechanism for sanitizing socioeconomic exclusion and supporting the status quo. The concept of ‘political policing’ clearly helps to understand the nature of policing in Mexico, which has remained politicized in different ways. The appointment procedure of Mexico City’s chief of police is an obvious example; the police chief is appointed by the president on the recommendation of the city’s mayor, to whom he owes his allegiance, and can also be fired by him. The fact that police chiefs are fired so easily similarly reflects the politicized nature of policing, as does the priority given and importance attached to specific crimes: kidnappings, car thefts and bank-robberies—the kinds of crimes affecting the powerful and influential segments of society—as opposed to ordinary street crime and assaults that affect the ‘voiceless’ within society. As (in)security has remained high on Mexico’s political agenda, societal pressure to improve public security especially pressures politicians and police chiefs to take initiatives that allow them to be seen to be doing something about the problem. Whether the proposed solutions or measures are actually effective is of secondary concern and is usually doubtful in view of a lack of adequate information and analysis underlying the decisions made. For example, following the massive demonstration in June 2004, police chiefs from different parts of the country participated in a series of meetings discussing how to tackle the problem of kidnappings. After a few months, a ‘negotiated deal’ was proudly presented as the ‘solution’ to the problem; an outcome, incidentally, which was greeted with the greatest scepticism by both the media and the general public.

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Setting a Reform Agenda for Police in Latin America What can we learn from the Mexican policing- and reform experiences in terms of the kind of reforms that are both relevant and feasible in the future? To answer this question, first some of the underlying themes and issues set out in the introduction to this volume will be revisited.

Latin American Experiences with Grand-design Reforms Grand-design reforms may be necessary, but in the face of both institutional and political opposition are at the same time unlikely to see the light of day. In essence this statement sums up earlier considerations as to whether reforms should be ‘grand design’ in character or may also be relevant when only partially implemented. The literature, nevertheless, clearly offers mixed views as to which of the two approaches should be favored. De Mesquita Neto (2006) emphasizes the important role that comprehensive police and justice reforms play in achieving long-term consolidation of the democratization process of police and judicial institutions. In his view, police and judicial reforms can only be effectively consolidated producing significant results when they simultaneously address several dimensions, such as accessibility and responsiveness to the public as well as questions of independence, accountability, effectiveness, and efficiency. The failure of most police reform initiatives, however, especially concerns the comprehensive ‘top-down’ initiatives introducing new bureaucratic structures and even the creation of totally new police forces. Such types of police reform, as other Latin American studies have also found, often reinforce centralized or authoritarian forms of policing as in the case in Argentina (Ungar 2002), or they work only temporarily when they produce bureaucratic infighting leading to paralysis (Call 2003). One of the resulting problems of ‘grand design’ types of reforms in countries like Jamaica (Harriott 2000) and Argentina (Ungar 2002; Hinton 2006) is the development of powerful internal police opposition that has proved to successfully stop reforms in their tracks. In Mexico, too, Davis points out, police reforms resulted in a proliferation of inter-organizational conflicts (2006: 60). Although her conclusion constitutes overgeneralization of the effects of many different types of police reforms, it has validity with respect to the ‘large design’ types of reforms. Major politically inspired reforms are equally likely to engender political opposition when they go against vested political interests. This was the case in Jamaica (Harriott 2000), Argentina (Ungar 2002; Hinton 2006) and Brazil

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(Hinton 2006; Lawson 2004). As Hinton points out, during the 1990s the prevalence of selective accountability allowed Argentine and Brazilian elected officials considerable latitude to pursue their personal agendas. Political initiatives to open channels of accountability “risked opening a can of worms, since dismantling networks of corruption might easily unleash the ire not only of police hierarchies but of the powerful vested interests across government that thrived on corruption” (Hinton 2006: 193). In Argentina, she rather cynically concludes, for politicians and senior police alike maintaining the status quo has the added advantage that an inefficient, poorly paid, and demoralized police force can more easily be co-opted by bribery, enticed into illegal acts and manipulated into silence (Hinton 2006: 193). Similarly, after the initial enthusiasm with which grand reforms are announced, the political will or power to carry out such reforms can easily evaporate, with politicians opportunistically dropping initial plans in the face of a dip in popularity or persistent political opposition. In Mexico a number of ‘grand design’ reforms were introduced under Fox. The notoriously corrupt and violent Federal Judicial Police was replaced in 2001 by the Federal Investigation Agency (AFI), modeled after the FBI, with stringent vetting procedures and high-education requirements for new police recruits, as well as a four-year training program for new recruits. In 2004, a twenty-five-year National Program to Obtain Justice (PNPJ) was announced with specific long- and medium-term aims. Two years earlier saw the birth of a National 2001–2006 Plan to Combat Corruption and Promote Administrative Transparency and Development.3 The latter also lay at the foundation of the Judicial Reform Bill the Fox Administration put before Congress in 2004. The merits and impact of these reforms have been discussed in some detail elsewhere (Bardán et al. 2005; Uildriks and Tello forthcoming). In short, five years after the setting up of AFI, over a third of its more than 7,000 members were themselves under criminal investigation, while the National five-year plan of 2001, in 2007 saw few indications of a diminution of institutional or societal corruption. The Judicial Reform Bill finally got stalled in Congress, but in 2008 the Calderon government pushed through Congress the essence of this bill. As in Mexico, the reform process in Argentina and Brazil during the 1990s was both politicized and inconsistent, and later president Lulu’s 100-page blueprint for reform of the security sector in Brazil during the 2002 election was equally ill-fated.4 The Mexican experience of the failure of Fox’s granddesign reforms has clearly been replicated elsewhere in Latin America and again point to the difficulties of successfully implementing any type of comprehensive police and criminal justice reform in the face of Latin America’s social and political characteristics. The Brazilian experience of police reform

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in some cities has included attempts to abolish the Military Police, stripping it of its military character and changing its hierarchical nature or integrating Civil and Military Police forces. All to little avail. Being involved in a more incremental long-term police reform endeavor by the Military Police in Brazil’s Minas Gerais, Claudio Beato of the city’s Federal University concluded that “the best way not to change anything is to change everything” (as quoted in Ward 2006: 180). Within Latin America there are no reform experiences that would negate the validity of such a conclusion beyond the Brazilian experience. Conditions and Prospects for Mexican Police Reform Police reforms can in principle take place on a federal, state and perhaps even on a local level, and both their impetus and effectiveness throughout Mexico varies. This is an important point to make, as illustrated by the experiences with separate police forces in federal Argentina, where states or provinces have considerable autonomy. But in spite of being a federal state, as part of national tradition in Mexico, the central state has continued to be the main reference point, with decisions and changes on a federal legislative level commonly being replicated on a state or even local level. Nevertheless, federal state structures may generally offer more lattitude for local and regional reform and differences than a central state structure. Ungar illustrated this point in the previous chapter. Mexico’s federal state structure in principle, too, offers the possibility for different reforms to be instigated on both a state and local level (in particular Mexico City’s Federal District). On account of regional differences their chances of success vary. A number of specific Mexican characteristics are, however, generally inhibitive to reforming Mexican police forces. Problems of vested interests and internal and political opposition to both the development and the successful implementation of police reforms are compounded by the absence of competence and adequate analysis, the power of informal realities and the degree of mistrust. Mexico has a long history of poor police-public relations, which partly derives from the fact that the police traditionally served as a repressive tool for power elites. The mistrust which so mars social, political and institutional life in Mexico, also characterizes police-public relations. The public view the police as an institution with which contact should be avoided if at all possible. The police are, not unjustly, associated with corruption, a lack of integrity, criminal activity and even involvement in organized crime. Even a police request for identification papers is likely to be met with deep suspicion, because of the fear that such information will eventually be misused. Perhaps the most striking characteristic of Mexico City’s policing is that it is almost totally

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devoid of any kind of normal police-public interaction. Particularly in the city center, one can observe large numbers of officers just standing around, sometimes in groups of two or three. It is rare to see them interact with anyone, except each other. Equally characteristic of day-to-day policing in Mexico City is the ever-expanding fleet of police vehicles with officers aimlessly driving around. These issues should shape the consideration of what kind of future reforms could be relevant in Mexico City. Improving Trust Like most other countries in Latin America, Mexico is a country marred by pervasive mistrust, public mistrust of its political and judicial system, but also general social and political mistrust. The consequences are profound. It hampers the general development of society in many areas, politically, socially and economically, and contributes in particular to its fragmentation. But mistrust is also one of the underlying social characteristics that has severely limited the impact of Mexican police and judicial reforms, especially inhibiting the gradual evolution towards a system based on the rule of law. Analogously it is the perspective of their potential to contribute to trust, as is concluded in Mexico’s Unrule of Law (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming), that determines which types of reforms are most relevant to increase security and institutional integrity under current circumstances. One general point to make is that for Mexican reforms to have any chance of improving the quality of policing and adherence to human rights, they must in some way help to re-establish trust and convince a skeptical if not antagonistic public that the police do, in fact, have something meaningful to offer. The police must find a way to overcome the public’s profound suspicion that they are incapable of providing any relevant service to society, especially in the domain of public security. A working environment that characteristically involves a massive police presence, with officers working in settings of anonymous police-public relations, by and large precludes the possibility of diminishing the present degree of mistrust. Without increased public confidence in the policing system, any hope of improvements in police legitimacy, police-public relations and security are illusionary. Adverse Conditions: Failing Leadership and a Climate of Fear In the introduction to this volume some of the important conditions were discussed that affect the likely success of reforms. Committed leadership in particular has been found to be of great importance to carry through successful

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reforms (Bayley 2001: 37). This raises the question as to whether one may expect any fundamental improvement within Mexican police, as commitment, leadership, and the general quality of Mexican police management are in such short supply, compounded by a serious problem of non-integrity (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming: chapter 5). The question then becomes what kind of reforms may be successful under such conditions. The impact of social disorder and violence in Mexico is another issue of importance. As Kruijt and Koonings (1999) point out, the long-term effect of violence is the insertion of fear as one of the permanent social and cultural ingredients in communities that has clearly materialized in the Mexico of 2008. The fear accompanying Mexico’s insecurity poses a major obstacle to a consolidation of democracy and the accompanying democratic institutions. Fear has contributed to public opinion and NGOs calling for police and judicial reform to increase public security and be more effective in combating organized crime, rather than focussing on human rights issues (Davis 2006: 79). Democratic Reforms: an Illusion? A growing despondency among academics about the possibility of achieving successful democratic police reforms is perhaps best epitomized by Davis who tells us with regard to the Mexican experience, “Forget democratic deepening; forget bettering the quality of democracy; forget the nuts and bolts of police reform” (2006: 82). Such pessimism is certainly not unfounded, particularly when considering the relevance for Mexico of Armony’s conclusions about Argentinean society (2004). Under adverse social and political conditions civic engagement will fail to breed the kind of generalized trust that is required for the development of democratic institutions. Indeed, Godoy’s scepticism as to whether the values of liberal democracy can prosper under the present conditions of socioeconomic marginalization of the large masses of Latin American societies adds to the pessimism concerning the scope for improvement under present neo-liberal conditions. Reflecting the fundamental problem of securing any progress in the shortand medium-term, Davis’ hope for improvement rests upon a revival or renewal of modern enlightenment ideals and an attendant commitment to the rule of law. The intriguing and unanswered, and perhaps unanswerable, question remains how such a revival could be achieved. In this chapter at least, I confine myself to the question of which particular nuts and bolts of police and criminal justice reform offer most hope for improvement, taking into consideration the limitation of current neo-liberal conditions and socioeconomic inequalities as a given here.

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Professionalization In setting an agenda of reform that is specifically relevant for Mexico City, one important issue to address is the relevance of police professionalization as a broad approach, at least in terms of increasing adherence to the rule of law and human rights on the one hand, while increasing security on the other. Huggins (1998) warns against the dangers of this model, contending that such an orientation allows for a perpetuation of the power and privileges of the few, by transforming the police into an institution that is falsely seen as impartial and apolitical, composed of public servants neutrally upholding the rule of law, rather than serving the interests of the few. For Mexico the risk of such a false perception is, however, limited. Attempts to modernize the Mexican police have by and large proven a failure, and the police, on a local and national level, lack any legitimacy. A more serious consequence of the ‘professionalization reforms’ embarked upon in Mexico is the ‘crime-control orientation,’ which Huggins warns is commonly associated with professional policing (1998: 14). It transforms violators of local rule into outsiders to be managed through heavy and generalized police repression. Chevigny also cautions that such a crime-control ideology further alienates a professionalized police from local communities, diminishing the prospects of identification with others of similar class and ethnic backgrounds (1995: Chapter 4). Professionalization as a primary orientation for reform, in short, involves the risk of the police increasingly losing contact with the public. Moloeznik indeed considers the professionalization of the Mexican police since 1994 as having been characterized by a choice of the punitive model “which inherently rejects citizen participation.” Between 1994 and 2000 it resulted in a more than 80 percent increase in the Mexican prison population, with the same upward trend continuing thereafter (Moloeznik 2006: 176, 186).5 The issue of professionalization is also specifically raised by Hinton. She opposes the insertion of high-technology initiatives as crime-fighting tools, particularly in countries that can ill-afford them, considering them often to precede the more basic elements of efficient statistical systems, adequate education, enhanced training, and standardized systems of monitoring and evaluation (2006: 199). But even the latter type of innovations, she recognizes, implicitly will all be of little avail in the absence of improvements in the integrity and accountability, not only within the police and the criminal justice system but also of the government as a whole. Unfortunately Hinton has little to say as to how such increased integrity and accountability can indeed be established in the face of the predominance of informal realities in Latin America. But the Mexican experience bears out the validity of this conclusion: for pro-

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fessionalization on the various fronts to have any meaning requires that these issues must be adequately addressed. The question of institutionalized corruption is crucial here. Harriott’s conclusions about police reform in Jamaica on this point are equally valid for Mexico. Specific campaigns against institutionalized corruption are at best futile in the light of the entrepreneurial character of corruption, which provides the social and financial resources for police to resist sanctions effectively. At the very worst “they are efforts to offer a few scapegoats for sacrifice and exercises in victimization and revenge” (2000: 69). Most state anti-corruption drives tend to be fundamentally flawed and ineffective. Not only may the impetus for anti-corruption efforts be largely derived from corrupt motives and designed to further partisan motives, but the intractable nature of the problem may also propel reform in an anti-democratic direction (Harriott 2000). Barbados, for example, saw the introduction of a model of informal spies personally selected by and loyal to the commissioner. As Harriott rightly contends, in order for the disciplinary approach to gain acceptance and to work, it must be democratic and consistent with a wider program of reform. “[Reforms] cannot be democratic in some aspects and yet authoritarian, counterproductive in their treatment of corruption” (2000: 71). In view of the persistence of a culture of corruption in the public domain, corruption within the Mexican police should at present be considered largely intractable. Feasible democratically based institutional reforms that could obliterate the problem conclusively are unlikely under the current polarized political climate. Equally hard to foresee at present is how the Mexican police can be depoliticized, a fundamental issue if professionalization is to take place with police transformation into autonomous forces working on the basis of the principles of the rule of law. Reforms and the Generation of Trust The foregoing considerations influence the nature of a reform agenda that may be relevant for Mexico City and, depending on local circumstances, elsewhere in Latin America too. In terms of goal orientation, reforms should be judged by their relevance to increasing security and institutional integrity as well as adherence to human rights. In addressing the question how such goals are to be achieved, a central issue should be their potential ability to generate trust, trust within society in general, the public trust of state institutions, but also mutual trust between functionaries within the police and the wider criminal justice system. The ability of reforms to generate trust may in fact be a manifestation of their success or failure to improve security and institutional integrity. It is, however, an important goal in its own right, since trust

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is an important prerequisite for furthering the rule of law and adherence to democratic values, even if it takes the form of ‘focalized trust’, as Roninger (1990) puts it, that is to say limited and deposited in specific individuals.

New Directions of Policing Public trust is dependent both on certain societal characteristics and on the functioning of state institutions (Putman 1993; Knack and Keefer 1997; Armony 2004). In Latin America most countries have been struggling to achieve legitimacy during the transition from authoritarian to more democratic forms of governance. Under such circumstances, public trust and state legitimacy are heavily dependent on the level of institutional integrity and the degree to which the state is able to fulfil its promises, in this case by keeping crime and security within acceptable levels, and doing so by using democratically accepted means. Mexico’s crisis of policing and the police’s inability to provide security on the basis of the current policing philosophy, somewhat ironically, afford new impetus for seeking a policing model that is able to integrate both. It is clear that the present concept of policing to provide security needs revision, from both a human rights and a security standpoint. Judged by its own parameter (bringing the perpetrators of crime to justice), the traditional response of the Mexican police and criminal justice system to crime and insecurity has been a failure. A study by CIDAC found that 96 percent of crime went unpunished between 1996 and 2003 (2003). More than Mexico’s prevailing socioeconomic conditions of poverty and inequality, the study concludes, the main cause of current crime levels lies in the fact that the perpetrators of these crimes are rarely caught and punished. Be that as it may, under the present circumstances an implicit adoption of the ‘punitive model’ can be expected to do little to improve security. The rationale of such a model is based on a rational choice perspective, which emphasizes that people avoid pursuing legal activities out of fear of perceived consequences (von Hirsch, Bottoms, Berney, and Wikström 1999). In Mexico, but also in Latin America as a whole, such a perspective is highly naïve, assuming implicitly the prevalence of a rule of law model whereby the law applies equally to everybody and that it is impartially and predictably invoked. This is generally not the case. Policing in the region is deeply politicized and is highly arbitrary regarding who will suffer the full or partial brunt of prosecution, conviction and imprisonment. If an increased reliance on the punitive model is not the answer, what is? In this volume both Frühling (Chapter 2) and Husain (Chapter 3) have discussed a number of experiences with community policing in Latin America, in which

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the social environment was one crucial variable predicting possible success. Elsewhere, Frühling (2006b) concludes that the crime rate in a particular area is one of the most important factors affecting the functioning of a local committee. In high crime areas, the public is less willing to cooperate with the police. Furthermore, the officers themselves tend to be more supportive of community policing if crime rates are low but to favor traditional coercive policing methods in more violent areas. The success of community policing programs also depends on the participation of residents. But for many initiatives ongoing citizen involvement is far from assured, thus affecting their sustainability (Smulovitz 2006: 234). Restoring broken trust is a long process. In view of both the urgency of obtaining results and the level of mutual police-public mistrust, merely sporadic introduction of community policing will not only affect the trust-building process required, but is also likely to call into question the overall validity of the community policing approach (Smulovitz 2006: 233). Against such a background, especially in the more troubled areas in Mexico City, prevailing levels of public suspicion of both the police and the whole state apparatus offer little hope for such formal types of community policing. Fundamentally, this approach is unsuitable to address one of the central characteristics of the city’s policing woes, namely the near total absence of any type of normal and informal police-public relations and contacts. It is this issue, I contend here, that needs to be addressed most imperatively, as a prerequisite for the aforementioned types of community policing to have any relevance. Towards a Personalized Security Web Knowing someone does not necessarily result in personal trust, but in Mexico in order to trust presupposes knowing a person for a considerable period of time. Trust is indeed ‘focalized.’ This being the case, there is a strong case to be made that in a city like Mexico City ‘preventive policing’ should be based on this axiom in order to improve security and reduce human rights abuses (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming). This requires a fundamental change in policing style: a considerable shift from the prevailing policing model of foot and, especially, car patrolling in favor of an alternative concept of ‘preventive policing’: the personalization of police-public relations by making individual officers responsible for the safety of particular streets, or group of streets. It is an idea that goes one step further than, but is analogous to, the organizing of officers into teams to focus on block-by-block crime prevention in Mendoza (Argentina) to fortify the police’s connection with society as described by Ungar in the previous chapter.

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The idea of personalizing policing in this way is based on the axiom that if individual officers and members of the public interact informally on a regular basis, some of the prevailing stereotypes could break down on a microlevel, allowing at least certain inhabitants to develop some kind of trust or positive view of certain police officers. As a result we would anticipate improvements in both the increase of security and a reduction of police humanrights violations. On a strategic level, it is contended here, a de facto far-reaching decentralization of the police makes it possible to eliminate some key characteristics perpetuating Mexico’s crisis of policing. This crisis is characterized by the near total absence of ‘everyday’ normal police-public interactions and the level of public mistrust and conviction that the police are as much a source of, as a solution to, public insecurity. ‘Personalization’ of policing has a number of advantages. It facilitates the development of personal contacts and, over time, increases police-public confidence. It increases both factual and subjective feelings of security locally, thereby augmenting police legitimacy. It also makes an inner-directed work force more outwards-oriented, shifting the daily bulk of essentially police-police to police-public interactions, thereby concomitantly providing opportunities for greater societal acceptance of individual officers and diminishing the isolation of the police. The more proximate and direct police-public contacts could also potentially improve police information on security matters significantly. This model of policing compels officers intrinsically to take more personal responsibility for creating a satisfactory working environment, which depends to a large extent on their ability to build up personal networks with the public. Working personalities are more likely to be influenced by the demands and pressures of the communities in which they are located, their working experiences in turn making police likely to become more community oriented. Officers may be less exposed to corrupting influences from within the organization, and structurally this mode of policing affords fewer occupational opportunities to obtain bribes. Another advantage is that officers can be more easily held individually accountable, and public dissatisfaction with the service rendered, attempts at extortion, or corruption can more easily be attributed to particular individuals and, as such, more easily addressed. Finally, the model reduces the need for car patrolling, which itself constitutes an important modus operandi for police to secure bribes. Trust is a key concept when considering the feasibility, impediments and opportunities for ‘personalizing’ policing. It conveys a model that potentially allows for the development of police-public interactions, facilitating both the growth of confidence in (individual) police and their legitimacy. At the same time it is also a prerequisite for its introduction, and on a local level support will be required and have to be sought in those areas where suspicions or spe-

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cific problems (drugs, organized crime or revolutionary movements) are known to be particularly acute. The model is, however, probably less suitable in those areas where trust and legitimacy are altogether absent and where the police would unlikely be able to convince the population that its introduction would benefit them. Institutional Non-integrity and Trust: Failure of Modernizing Reforms Without institutional integrity there can be no trust, no social trust, no interand intra-institutional trust. The link between integrity and trust goes a long way to explain why so many of the reforms that are specifically aimed at professionalizing and modernizing Mexican police forces, along with specific anti-corruption drives, have not succeeded. Appreciation of this link is crucial in determining what reforms will be necessary to tackle the prevalence of unrule of law and lack of legitimacy as fundamental problems of policing, in Mexico specifically, but also throughout Latin America. The experiences with the developing of internal control bodies within Mexican police forces since 1997 are illustrative. They help explain why so many reforms aimed at internal or external institutional control in Latin America in the long run tend to achieve little in establishing institutional integrity and increasing social and institutional trust of and within police and the wider criminal justice system. Internal control mechanisms in modern professional police forces are the first line of defence against police non-integrity. If all is well they ensure that officers act in accordance with internal rules and regulations and are subject to disciplinary sanctions in specifically set circumstances. A first impression is that Mexican police forces are indeed modernized in that disciplinary mechanisms are frequently invoked. Police of all ranks are both disciplined and dismissed in large numbers annually, and indeed sometimes officers are sacked in mass police purges, occasionally involving hundreds of police (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming, chapter 5; Azaola 2006: 26). Police officers may be also subjected to a broad range of other disciplinary measures, ranging from reprimands, detention (arraigo), to being removed from one’s sector or unit, or internal detention/arrest. On the surface this suggests the existence of serious internal control and accountability. This is, indeed, the image police chiefs want to convey to the outside world. On closer inspection, however, it becomes clear that internal actions are characteristically undertaken in an arbitrary manner, which is perhaps most clearly illustrated by the mass dismissal (purges) of officers that take place from time to time. When an officer is investigated for alleged corruption or abuse of power, an officer from Internal Affairs is quite likely to offer him the

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choice of facing charges or paying off the investigating officer. In short, he may be charged with corruption-related offences unless he pays off the investigating officer involved. In one group discussion among judicial police, the branch was consensually branded as ‘the mafia,’ because in the eyes of those concerned the branch was completely devoid of any moral authority.6 Rather than constituting a beacon of integrity in the force, the modus operandi of both bodies embodies an arbitrary and discredited response to allegations of corruption and other forms of non-integrity. With internal control bodies themselves being characterized by non-integrity and arbitrariness, there is little foreseeable connection between concrete violations and their consequences, a state of affairs related to Mexico’s weak rule of law. As a result there is, in the words of Armony, little “positive predictability,” making it difficult for individuals to estimate sanctions for their own behavior and that of others (2004: 41). Particular consequences are regarded as something that just may happen to you, a matter of (bad) luck but generally not something that could be avoided by changes in one’s behavior. Being caught, charged or fired, in fact, depends to a large extent on luck, connections, or whether officers are able and willing to bribe themselves out of trouble. Internal Control by Senior Police Disciplinary sanctions are frequently meted out by senior police, their nature derived from the military model on which the main principles of the police disciplinary systems within Mexico’s police forces are based. Police leadership and authority are ‘one and indivisible,’ and senior police ‘are never wrong,’ but even if wrongfully given, any instructions are to be treated as rightful orders that must be obeyed. Such a situation does much to explain the manner in which disciplinary punishments are meted out by ordinary senior police.7 Officers are regularly subjected to instant incarceration for up to thirty-six hours, a practice that the average officer in Mexico City may face about once a year. When appraising the role of Mexican senior police an important point to make is that they are involved in corruption and other forms of non-integrity themselves, and they generally lack moral authority vis-à-vis the rank-andfile. In the case of preventive (uniform) police in particular, meting out punishments occurs in context of the favoritism towards specific individuals that constitutes a central characteristic of Mexican hierarchical relations. Under such circumstances, handing out punishments to maintain discipline and control has more to do with seniors exerting power over particular individual officers than signifying a serious effort to maintain integrity within the force.

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As part of a prevailing PRI tradition, there persists an attitude that bosses can randomly dismiss whomever they like on the spur of the moment. Inevitably as a result, internal hierarchical control as a first line of defense in a Mexican context is unlikely to do much to reduce levels of police non-integrity; a very different situation from most modern Western police forces. Impact of Mexico’s Punitive Institutional Control Mechanisms Sackings, as the severest disciplinary sanction, are meted out on a regular basis. In addition to the arbitrary nature of such punishments, their influence as a normative instrument is further limited by the fact that officers dismissed from one force may be re-employed in other forces. In addition, many dismissed officers become re-employed by private security firms, especially if they were fired for corruption. Others, however, become full-fledged members of criminal organizations—most notoriously those involved in the kidnapping business—using the expertise acquired within the police force. The fact that police are often fired without a proper procedure not only infringes the rights of officers themselves, but is also counterproductive to police internalizing the value of the rule of law. Many officers indeed appeal their dismissal and their dismissal is regularly declared unlawful.8 That they are nevertheless dismissed on a large scale relates to the fact that only a minority actually appeal a dismissal. In Mexican culture being dismissed by one’s superiors is not something that most feel empowered to appeal against with reference to one’s formal rights. Indeed, institutional control Mexican style conforms to the general picture conveyed in the literature on democratization in Latin America: it constitutes a weak force (Mainwaring 2003; Moreno, Crisp, and Shugart 2003; O’Donnell 2003). Mexico remains a country where impunity prevails, in spite of a much greater emphasis on human rights and the creation of external control mechanisms such as the national and state (local) human rights commissions where people can file complaints. The picture does not become more hopeful if we examine what is known about the relevance of other internal institutional controls. Mexico’s anti-corruption agency Secodam and its counterpart Controlarias Internas are internal bureaus whose activities have been geared primarily towards fiscal accountability (rendición de cuentos). Both are judged by Varenik as ineffective. As he concludes, “Mexico’s experiments in accountability and anti-corruption have largely reproduced the broader Latin American experience: the creation of innumerable additional requirements and rigid bureaucratic layers that have diminished both efficiency and fairness without producing a corresponding increase in service” (2003: 10). Indeed, as one study found, the disciplinary system fundamentally works to

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preserve the lines of command rather than as an instrument ensuring that the police act towards the outside world in conformity with the law (Ugalde 2003: 69). Tackling Non-Integrity in a Context of the Unrule of Law Mexico’s lack of internalizing rule of law values has consequences for setting a relevant reform agenda, be it with respect to the nature of policing, social accountability and to the role of civil society or the nature of horizontal accountability. One important issue is what should be expected of democratic and other forms of horizontal accountability in a society in which informal and clientele relations tend to trump formal rule of law notions, and most fundamentally that the law be applied equally to all citizens. The greatest challenge to generating democratic accountability and rule of law in Mexico, DiasCayeros and Magaloni (forthcoming) conclude, is the response by citizens and politicians alike to the changes in the (legal) environment they face; officials by often increasing discretionary and arbitrary behavior, and citizens by finding new ways of circumventing the law rather than abiding by it.9 In part this societal attitude can be attributed to a culture of corruption that is deeply ingrained in Mexican public life. Such a culture may well have historic roots going back to the colonization by the Spaniards, when people depended for their own survival on a pretended acceptance of an imposed code of conduct and religion. This may have fundamentally influenced the way citizens opportunistically interpret and accept the law to suit themselves as the situation arises (López Portillo 2003: 103). Corruption in Mexico is endemic and institutionalized, and a daily-lived experience with respect to both the government and its institutions. From this point of view, corruption and lack of respect for the law can be interpreted as a form of protest against the injustice and impunity characterizing Mexican society. For those academics, politicians and policy makers alike who see ‘a culture of corruption’ as the source of the problem, re-education of Mexican citizens tends to be seen as the most appropriate route towards increasing civic and rule of law values and democratic accountability. Apart from the historical dimension involved, a weak internalization of rule of law and civil values appears to be inherent in and characteristic of societies in transition from authoritarian rule to democratic governance (Uildriks and van Reenen 2003; Wintrobe 1998). In Democratic Accountability and Rule of Law in Mexico (Diaz Cayeros and Magaloni forthcoming), several authors analyze Mexico’s problems in precisely those terms. The crux of the argument is that (dis)obedience and endemic breaching of the law by officials and citi-

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zenry alike are a consequence of Mexico’s emergence from hegemonic oneparty rule, rather than a reflection of a specific and unchanging political culture. In Mexico City, police widely share the experience of no longer being feared, without fear being replaced by democratic values and attitudes like ‘respect,’ which are connected with policing with democratic legitimacy. As Diaz-Cayeros and Magaloni point out, citizens characteristically are used to interacting with the authorities with deceit and suppression of information about their activities. The incompetence of the bureaucracies or prevailing corruption enabled them to protect themselves against the encroachment of the state. Under new democratic conditions formal redress against state infringements has been improved, but no workable new equilibrium has yet emerged setting the relation between civil society and the state with respect to an internalization of rule of law values. When considering the direction in which the police and justice system should evolve, important issues at stake are how to deal with deep-rooted non-compliance with the law, and how civic virtues and the rule of law values can begin to replace more opportunistic considerations and lawlessness. Irrespective of whether the root causes of non-compliance lie in a ‘culture of corruption’ or are more connected to the demise of one-party rule, simply increasing the penalties in dealing with non-compliance has the negative consequences of enlarging an ever-increasing prison population. Furthermore, rather than having a deterrent effect they could be counterproductive, increasing the stakes of those systemically involved in criminal activity. Indeed, as Magaloni and Zepada (2004) have shown, there are no indications that higher penalties affect murder rates throughout Mexico, even though there might be some effect on robberies. But the most fundamental flaw in a democratic perspective of seeking increased compliance to the law by means of higher penalties is the politicized nature of Mexican policing. Thus the likelihood of being subject to formal punishment is dependent on a deadly cocktail of unpredictability, institutional ineffectiveness, incompetence and arbitrary decisions on the part of different criminal justice actors. Under such circumstances—but also if ‘civil corruption’ can in part be seen as a form of protest against a corrupt institutional and societal system—increased institutional legitimacy, the introduction of rule of law values and a ‘new equilibrium’ are only foreseeable in the face of an obvious increase of integrity within the criminal justice system itself. Again the issue remains. How are such improvements to be achieved? Or should the question rather be whether improvements are at all possible in the foreseeable future?

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Increasing Institutional Integrity The corrupting influences on those joining the Mexican police are formidable and the degree of institutionalized corruption in all sectors inhibits institutional controls from furthering institutional integrity. Even the creating of completely new, supposedly clean, police forces and the reforms undertaken under Fox have by and large done little to improve matters on this front. In spite of the heavy involvement of the rank-and-file in corruption and other abusive practices, this should not distract us from the fact that ordinary officers are also deeply frustrated by the poor quality of the service provided by Mexico’s police forces. People join the police primarily for financial reasons and seldom with a sense of ‘mission.’ Nevertheless, because they are brutalized themselves on a massive level, many officers are very resentful of the way they are treated, bemoaning the general inefficiency of their organization as well as their inability to be of any real service to society. Significantly, many judicial police express a desire for more rule of law and guidance-instruction as to how police should act (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming: Chapter 5). Senior officers sometimes contend that a policy of appointing senior police with a different professional background has been an important factor in reducing corruption. But even if this would be the case, there are clearly limits to bringing in people with a non-police background as part of an effort to ‘clean up the police.’ Arguably such ‘new’ police are less socialized into patterns of corruption, but competent management and control of the rank-and-file also requires an understanding of the intricacies of police work. A large majority of ordinary officers (especially judicial police) believe that in order to improve the quality of policing and reduce corruption a change of senior police is required, promoting officers who both really care about the quality of the police and are at the same time competent enough to actually improve matters. On the whole, despite signs of improvement with respect to corruption, senior police are currently lacking in both managerial capabilities and integrity. Therefore senior Mexican police constitute as much of the problem as the solution to increasing standards of police integrity. For Bayley, one of the conditions for successfully implementing reforms and changing police behaviour is the presence of sustained and committed top leadership, which he considers one of the most repeated lessons of reform management. As he puts it, “Significant reforms cannot be brought about by stealth from below against the indifference or hostility of senior managers” (2001: 20). In itself such a conclusion is undoubtedly valid; ‘fish starts to stink from the head downward’ as a Lithuanian saying goes. At the same time,

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in many societies—especially where corruption is deeply ingrained— indifferent and hostile senior management is simply a fact of life. This implies that one has to look for reforms and institutional arrangements that go beyond the normal top-down approach of police reforms (legal changes, organizational restructuring) and are able to address the mistrust of the system prevailing both towards and within the institutions concerned. As far as the Mexican preventive police are concerned, the introduction of a more personalized policing model is a type of reform that could be expected to alter working practices because of the different role officers would play on a dayto-day basis. Rather than being heavily dependent for its success on senior police, it is a type of reform which would instead reduce their role. Improving the rights of the rank-and-file vis-à-vis senior police is another type of reform which falls outside traditional thinking about police reform, but one that should be considered imperative for the development of a more democratic and human rights–based police organization. From this perspective, another archaic and corruptive element of Mexican police organizations requiring reform is the system of promotions and appointments of senior police. These are reforms that have the potential to increase trust on an institutional level, making arbitrary treatment within the organization by one’s seniors less of an unavoidable and inescapable fact of life. Social Accountability: Dealing with Informal Realities On the whole the power of civil society influencing a politically and socially relevant reform agenda in Mexico has been limited. One important reason is that the impact and success of institutional and legal reforms is difficult to predict. Informal realities tend to trump formal arrangements, and the creativity of civil society, politicians and state actors alike is apt to circumvent formal changes contributing to reforms that seldom achieve their goals. The limited influence of civil society, particularly in securing the desired outcomes of reforms, is further complicated by the sheer unpredictability and complications of the reform process itself. In addition, there has been increased confusion and uncertainty as to what works and which are the most important goals to be achieved: security, or the increase of rule of law and adherence to human rights standards. By the start of the new millennium there had been a clear shift in orientation, with NGOs and citizen organizations increasingly pushing an ‘anti-crime’ rather than a human rights agenda of reform. Some organizations in Mexico City had begun working with some police departments and were involved in placing greater restrictions on individual liberties. Most social movements, NGOs or community organizations have a local base and operate in isolation.

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There is generally little coherent vision, or consensus within Mexican civil society as to which reforms and changes can realistically be expected to offer hope in the face of the ubiquitous political, societal and institutional chaos which has proved so intransigent after the first hopes of the benefits realized as part of the democratic transition faded. Particularly striking is that those stressing the crime problem as the main issue to address hardly ever refer to the involvement of the police as part of the crime problem and issues of corruption. Rarely is a coherent approach or solution to the roots of these problems proposed. Nevertheless in the past decades civil society has considerably influenced policing reform and human rights issues. In Mexico, its influence has been manifest with respect to the police and wider justice reforms initiated by the Fox government, but also in the development of institutional horizontal accountability illustrated by the setting-up of the National and local Human Rights Commissions. As a force it can be expected to continue to play an influential role, putting pressure on state institutions to address specific policing issues. At the same time the fact that people have increasingly come to complain about a whole variety of (alleged) abuses demonstrates evidence of constant pressure for authorities to be accountable. In Mexico this has contributed to a reduction of torture being used in an institutionalized manner. It is also relevant as a form of incessant pressure on the authorities to evolve in the direction of a rule of law culture. The challenge remains for civil society to find additional ways in which it can do so in the future.

Training In terms of improving the quality of policing, much is characteristically expected from training by NGOs, state actors and foreign assistance donors alike. It is for this reason that this chapter will be concluded by some of the main lessons learned from the Mexican experience in this domain. Both initial recruit training and later on-the-job training aim to instill among the members of a particular police force certain skills, the desired police identity, modus operandi, and codes of conduct. The potential relevance of police training as an institutional control mechanism lies in the fact that it sets the parameters of proper policing for a whole range of police activity, both with and without human rights significance. It is, however, equally true that the failure to offer certain kinds of training in a different way also sets the normative parameters within the organization, indicating what is not considered important there. A lack of physical training, for example, characterizes most Mexican police, together with the ‘fast food’ officers commonly indulge in for lack of proper internal catering facilities.

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Since 1994 an interest in ways to improve police training has existed both in and outside Mexico City’s police. The process adopted has usually been one of introducing various courses and trainings and subsequently replacing these by others without any serious evaluation or a clear-cut vision of either the relevance or the direction of the training to be provided. Courses are characteristically offered without specific explanation or justification of the content, organization or methodologies used for either recruit- or on-the-job training. Training methods are commonly old fashioned (an instructor or teacher gives an abstract talk on a particular subject) and little or no thought is given as to how such teachings may be connected to the functions officers are to perform in their daily work. Nevertheless, the quality and scope of police training within and among Mexico City’s police forces clearly varies, and one is as likely to find officers who are devoid of even the most basic and elementary policing and communication skills, as police who have clearly had the benefit of professional training.10 Emphasis on human rights in the public discourse can be considered responsible for a gradual increase in the number of human rights courses offered to police. Concerning the rather haphazard ‘one off ’ occasions that are not in any way integrated within an overall training perspective, their impact will at best constitute a ‘sensitizing’ exercise. The lack of any systemic physical and condition training is another aspect that characterizes current police on-the-job training. Any such systemic training is completely lacking for ordinary preventive police, if only because the numbers involved make any sustained effort in this domain illusionary from the outset. But even judicial police in Mexico City may expect to be sent on a physical training ‘course’ perhaps once a year—and on occasion twice—only to be sent on a completely different course the next. Obviously physical training carried out on such an erratic basis hardly serves any useful purpose, since exercise is required on a regular basis to maintain basic benefits. For Mexican police, being sent to a (training) course, has an especially symbolic significance. It is taken as signifying that they are considered important and being selected also contributes to their self-esteem. What a course actually consists of is hardly of importance, nor what they get out of it in terms of skills or knowledge. This can be illustrated by the fact that preventive police usually are unable to remember anything about the courses in which they had participated, in fact not even their subject.11 In view of their inability to remember what any of the courses they took were about, it would seem safe to assume that their impact on a cognitive level is absent altogether, and any influence on a change of attitude will be marginal at best. The weak impact of training is not surprising. Most of it—for both preventive and judicial police—is haphazard and lacks internal cohesion. Even

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for judicial police, who receive considerably more on-the-job training than their counterparts, it also mostly involves single occasions. As such, a world is still to be won in terms of its own logic (there is no point in offering officers physical training once a year) and a general integration of normative and cognitive knowledge with practical training skills. For preventive police, however, limited resources and facilities make any substantial increase and improvement of on-the-job training an illusionary ideal. The relevance of training for Mexican judicial police as a means to improve the quality of investigative work, however, is somewhat undermined by the fact that it does not have operational independence, but falls under the authority of the Attorney’s Office. On both a federal and a state level the Judicial Police currently constitutes part of the executive, making both the investigation and the prosecution of crimes open to political pressures. Moreover true investigative work constitutes only a marginal part of the working realities of judicial police. Complex criminal investigations are the exception, especially where the rich and the powerful are concerned. In short, under present conditions, training of any kind is unlikely to contribute significantly towards transforming the police into an institution guided by the principles of the rule of law. As to the future development of training, there are three main points to make in addition to the earlier noted importance of integrating it more widely within the police organization in terms of promotion and other incentives. In the first place, training will have little impact, whether in general terms or specifically relevant to human rights, if it is not carried out on a regular basis and integrated in the total curriculum. As Neild has pointed out, human rights training should be an integral part of police training, rather than provided as a kind of ‘add-on’ course marginal to the core body of police instruction (1998). This means that human rights issues should play a role in all areas of police training such as the use of force, search-and-arrest procedures and interrogation techniques. Moreover, it should not take place by means of verbal instruction alone but particularly through practical and role-playing exercises, placed in the context of the circumstances under which officers have to work. Second, in the light of the need for reform throughout Latin America, in combination with the kind of ‘internal resistance’ proposals for reform are faced with, instituting selective training and education programs could be helpful to increase police support for specific reforms. Particularly with respect to those that go beyond traditionally repressive policing styles, such as community policing, officers require training designed to produce agents of change committed to making new ideas and programs a success within an often cynical and conservative police environment.

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The third point is connected with the lack of ‘police identity’ which characterizes most policing in Latin America. Officers must be provided with a broad education which affords them an identity and a clear sense of police mission related to upholding the fundamental principles of the rule of law, such as the notion of the equality before the law. These principles stand in stark contrast to actual societal realities, but imbuing officers with them would be an essential ingredient for the democratization and introduction of new idealism within the police, as well as for the development of democratic and human rights–based institutions. In addition, the whole police curriculum—both for recruit- and on-the-job training—must integrate the different subjects taught in a similar overall perspective, and thought be given to the kind of skills, capabilities and profile that the different police institutions should be expected to fulfil in society. Political will for such a development is clearly essential and needs no further elaboration here. Finally Reform aiming to democratize and professionalize the police, increase security and strengthen the rule of law can take various directions. It can be directly linked to aspects of the police and policing, the functioning of the wider criminal justice system, and be instigated from different points of view. In the face of the many obstacles invariably present in Latin America, success of any type of endeavour can never be assured, not in terms of partial steps, and certainly not by even well-thought-out complex grand-design changes. But there is no need for fatalism either if one accepts that change will require a longterm commitment and inevitably be an uphill battle. The different contributions in this volume illustrate what the disparate experiences throughout Latin America tell us about some of the pitfalls to be avoided and the opportunities present for successful reforms. Notes 1. He nevertheless appointed a retired military officer as the first police chief. 2. The politically motivated sacking of Mexico City’s police chief by President Fox, next to sacking of eleven other officers, was one of the more controversial outcomes (Uildriks with Tello forthcoming: chapter 2). 3. This plan outlined the intention to carry out reforms in government institutions, reinforce internal control mechanisms, review internal regulations and examine the salaries of government employees. Against the background of a substantial crime increase and worsened security situation that occurred during the 1990s, the proposals aimed to address the lack of public confidence in public security institutions.

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4. Responsibility for police reform had been entrusted to Luiz Eduardo Soares, the national security secretary. Proclaiming his independence from the ruling party, Soares called for reform of the penal code and the unification of police forces. He soon found himself isolated and vilified after he had announced that states which did not elaborate detailed multiyear plans to reform police forces would have federal reforms withdrawn, and he resigned just ten months after entering office (Hinton 2006: 198). 5. Mexico City’s prison population rose even more dramatically, from 7,700 in 1993 to some 30,000 in early 2005 (Azaola 2006: 14). 6. Most police are convinced that members of the Council receive bonuses if they punish a certain number of officers and that this is the reason why some officers are punished unjustly. Conversely, the Council is also widely considered corrupt in that it allows officers who are in fact guilty of abuse of power or of refusing to obey orders not to have to face it if they are well connected or offer bribes. 7. Article 42 of the Security Law of the federal District (LSDF) 1993, stipulates that “the arrest involves the locking up of a subordinate for having committed substantial offences or for having accumulated five reprimands within a calendar year . . . and can have the duration of 36 hours.” 8. Formally, in Mexico the rights of employees are quite well protected, and labour tribunals to which a dismissal is appealed tend to come out in favour of the employee. In many Mexican jurisdictions, in fact, courts tend to support officers who have been dismissed. The Federal and local courts to whom police dismissals may be appealed, are in the same vein reputed to come out often in favour of sacked police (the Federal Court tends to be very much in arrears). If an officer is judged to have been dismissed unfairly, an award will be given the equivalent of three months of salary per year for a number of years still to be determined, and the equivalent of twenty days of salary yearly thereafter. 9. This attitude even extends to the sphere of civil matters. “In Mexico, illegality appears to be a constant. . . . We live in habitual legal uncertainty and insecurity. The strategy which dominates relations between citizens is that of non-compliance with agreements” (Guillermo Zepeda Lecuona as cited by Kossick 2004: 719). 10. On-the-job training is clearly more substantial for judicial police than for preventive police. This is hardly surprising in the light of their differences in function and tasks, as well as the kind of logistical problems connected to organizing such training for a large number of preventive police. Due to their numbers, preventive police have to choose what they want to do, but whether they will be able to do so or not depends in part on their paying their seniors: during the interviews many officers report that in order to be allowed to participate in whichever training, they have to pay their chiefs for the favor. Characteristically most preventive police are only interested in firearms training. 11. Enquiry during the Mexican study into which specific courses had been attended characteristically caused either unease or even irritation.

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Index

accountability, 24, 87, 92, 93, 114, 140, 180, 204, 213, 215: administrative, 132 citizens, to, 52 democratic, 216, 217 fiscal, 215 horizontal, 216 internal, 17, 35–36 internal - mechanisms, 17 operational, 132 police, 138, 162, 166 selective, 204 security sector, of the, 123 social, 216, 219 traditional mechanisms, 37 Adams, Renato, 95, 99, 108, 121n25 AFI, 10, 204 Agüero, Felipe, 163 Aguila, E, 155 Ahnen, Ron, 52, 56 alarmas communitarias, 186 Almada, Maricarne, 171 Alvarado, Arturo, 200 AMIA, 172, 180 Amnesty International, 56, 67, 102 Andersen, M, 171

arbitrariness, 13, 14, 83 arbitrary: arrests, 127 behavior, 216 internal actions, 213 modus operandi, 216 nature disciplinary sanctions, 215 policing, nature of, 202, 210 treatment, 219 Archdiocese of São Paulo, 49, 50 Argentina 1, 5, 14, 15, 26, 35, 43, 169–171, 178, 204, 205, 207, 211: Chief of Judicial Investigations, 172 Department Security Forums, 181 Federal Investigations agency, 174 General Inspector of Security, 185, 187 Ministry of the Interior, 31 Ministry of Justice and Human Rights, 31, 32, 175, 178 Ministry of Justice and Security, 181 Ministry’s Office of Criminal Policy, 173 National Crime Prevention Plan, 31, 32, 174, 175 National Security Plan, 32, 174

— 243 —

244

Index

Neighbourhood Security Forums, 181 Office of Control of Corruption, 181, 195n12 Policía Federal Argentina (FPA), 171–178 Security Councils, 185 Security Police, 181 Armony, Ariel, 3, 7, 93, 207, 210, 214 arraigo, 213 Arroyo, Mario, 200 assistance: foreign (see foreign) in equalities of power, 137 international police, 95, 96, 101, 102, 112, 114–118, 121n32, 135 (see also police assistance) multilateral, 103 operational, 104, 115 police 95, 96, 101, 102, 112, 114–118, 121n32, 135 security, 101 UK , 18, 103, 105 unequal cooperation, 136 U.S. assistance, 101, 105 USAID, 5, 104–105, 117, 140 authoritarian, 1, 85: governance, 210 one-party rule, 197 political rule, 1 post-, 57 regimes, 2, 14, 15, 57, 79 rule, 15, 56, 100, 216 authoritarianism, 8, 50, 80 Azaola, Elena, 201, 213, 224n5 Bachelet, Ricardo, President, 154 Bahia, 30 Bailey, John, 2, 58, 94n6 Ballistic Identification System (IBIS), 111 Barbados, 209 Barbellos, Caco, 54, 78n19 Bardán, Cuitláhuac, 204 Bayley, David, 11, 13, 23, 47, 51, 52, 57, 59, 60, 94n6, 115, 144, 207, 218, 219

Beato, Caudio, 22, 26 Beliz, Gustavo, 31: Resignation and dismissal of, 173 Belo Horizonte, 38 Bertheir, Hector, 199, 200 Binder, Alberto, 171 Blumberg, Axel, killing of, 173 Boeninger, E, 157 Bogotá, 38, 39–44: Action Plan, 41 Citizens Security Schools, 41 Community Police Unit, 42 Community Policing Action Plan, 41 Community Policing Councils, 41 improvement public security, 40 investment police management, 41 mayor of, 40, 41 Policía de Proximidad, 41 Unified System of Information on Violence 41 Universidad Javierana, 41 victimization and security survey, 42 Bolivia, 170 Bonarense, 180 Bordón, Luis alberto, death of, 184 Boxill, I149n37 Brasilia, 77n17 Brazil, 1, 5, 23, 22,26, 31, 36, 43, 48, 49, 59, 61–65, 68-70, 73, 77n14, 170, 204: Office of the State Secretary of Public Security, 48 Special Military Tribunals, 49 State Secretary of Public Security, 69 Breaton case, 99 Bressner-Pereira, Louis, Carlos, 31 Brigada, 191 Brodeur, Jean Paul, 59 Bruce, David, 38 Buckley, Stephan, 56 Buenos Aires, 27, 32, 36, 169, 171, 179, 183, 184: Community Police, 174 Federal District, 180 Conurbano (see Conubano)

Index

“Bullits for murderers,” campaign, 182 Burgos, J, 157 Burzaco, Eugenio, 171 Business Improvement Districts, 192 Byrne, H, 82, 86 Caiden, Gerald, 8, 9 Calderón, Felipe, President, 198 Cali drug cartel, 40 Call, Charles, 94n6, Cancina, Azún, 90 Cano, Ignacio, 54, 55, 66 Carabineros, 9, 23, 27–28, 141–168 Cárdenas, Cuauhtémoc, 197, 200 caudillos, 171 Cavallaro, James, 55 centralism/centralized, 8, 64: nature of the police, 141 police stations, 122n34 policing system, 85, 92 change, incentives for, 142, Chevigny, Paul, 47, 50, 52, 54, 58, 59, 77n7, 94n6, 100, 163 Chile, 1, 5, 6, 9, 12, 19–21, 24–28, 32, 33, 37, 43, 151–156, 159, 161–165, 168, 202: Citizen Security Division, 32 General Director of Carabineros, 154 Ministry of Public Security, 32, 33 National Policy for Citizen Security, 32 National Urban Victimization Survey, 159 Policía de Investigaciones, 37 Public Security Strategy, 33 Sub-Secretary of Public Security, 32, 33 CIDAC, 210 Civilization (theory of), 100 citizen: organizations, 219 participation, 42, 89,169, 178, 184, 200, 208 security (see security) support of programs, 183

245

civil: corruption, 217 fights, 24, 172, 193 forces, 21 participation, 3 patrols, 89 police, 48, 49, 51, 55, 62, 68, 69–74 society, 2, 5, 36, 62–67, 81–98, 163–173, 192–194, 216–220 civilian control, 153 civilization, theory of, 100 Cobos, Julio, 186 codes of conduct, 61, 220 Coles, Catherina, 64 Collier, Paul, 77n10 Colombia, 5, 23, 24, 28, 31, 36, 43: decentralization process, 39 internal resistance to external control, 39 National Police of, 26, 43 Office of National Police Commissioner, 39 Colonization, 217 comisarías, 176–178, 195–194 Commission of Historical Clarification (CEH), 81–86 Commonwealth Caribbean, 123 community/communities: breakfast, 62 favelas, 55, 63, 68 high violence, 138 inner city, 132 involvement, increasing, 63, 64, 107, 140 judges, 170 members, 64, 67 opinions, 64 participation, 140, 141 partnership with, 140 police, and, 42, 107, 174, 187 power sharing with, 140 representatives, 64, 66 satisfaction police services, 143 Security Council, 62 sensitizing program, 109

246

Index

troubles, 138 violent, 144 community policing, 112, 113, 170, 186, 189, 211: citizen support of, 193 Community Based Policing project (CBP), 138, 142–145 experiments, the success of, 17 high crime areas, in, 188 impact external influence, 138 initiatives, 117 institutionalization of, 107 oriented, 75 philosophy, 105 pilot, 105 pilot program, 90, 189 program, 11, 37–38, 179, 189, 211 public opinion on, 194 revived, 186 techniques, 104 confidence: (see also trust) democracy, 15 people, 3, 212 police, 7, 22, 27–28, 127, 145, 159–160, 206 public institutions, 8, 106, 108, 123, 132 conflict, 15, 44, 50, 62–68, 75–86, 120, 141, 155, 165–174: armed, 81 Congressional Bicameral Commission, 181 Conubura, 180, 182, 183 Copacabana, 65, 67, 68,77n11 Cope, S., 130 Córdoba, 169, 179, 184 Corporate Strategy, 103–105, 136, 138 (see also Jamaica) corporatism, 8 corruption 9, 10, 84, 86, 99, 107, 136, 167, 192, 204, 205, 214–216, 218: and abuse, control over, 34 anti-agency, 215 anti-drives, 213 corrupt critical institutions, 133

culture of, 9, 209 endemic, 216 fight against, 182 free, 10 institutionalized, 8, 10, 17, 209, 216, 218 institutionalization of, 10, 14, 17, 124 low social tolerance for, 9 military institutions and, 167 networks of, PFA, 177, 181 overcoming, 1, 4, 6, 8 patterns of, 218 pervasive, 9 reduce, 218 related offences, 214 unchecked, 172 Costa, Milton, 48 Costa Rica vii, 23, 30, 90: increase in crime rates, 30 perception of security, 30 Country Report on Human Rights Practices, 165 Couso, Jaime, 164 crime: complex problem, 135 control ideologies, 208 control orientation, 208 control strategies, 11, 161 162, effective control, 135 failure in combating, 176 fear of, 51, 53, 74, 93, 124, 157–160, 168 impatience over, 174 Office of -Prevention, 144 Office of Evaluation of Information for -Prevention, 181–182 organized, infiltration of police, 34 prevention initiatives, 154 rising/increases of, 172, 173, 182, 183 socioeconomic condition, 170 victims of, 166 war on, 76 waves, 53 Crime Management Unit (CMU), 95, 108

Index

criminal justice system, 1–4, 10–12, 21, 32, 40, 51–55, 98, 113–115, 153, 161–164, 170, 173, 180–182, 199–200, 208–210, 213, 217, 223: accusatorial, 12, 115, 179 civilian, 164 effectiveness and efficiency, 113, 161 ineffectiveness, 154 inquisitorial, 5, 12, 179 military, 12, 19, 152–154, 163–168 criminal policies, 173, 176: new grounds on, 174 repressive, 15 curriculum (training), 185, 187, 193, 222–223, 241 Dammert, Lucia, 12, 23, 37, 58, 94n6, 157, 171 Davis, Diana, 199, 203, 207 Davis, Robert, 16 DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency), 4 decentralization of police, 31, 33, 39, 44, 64, 141, 170, 179, 212 decentralized state services, 173 Defense Department Appropriations Act, 102 delgado, 50: titulars, 50 Delli Santi, A, 81 demilitarization, 17, 24, 34, 43, 47–49, 59, 61, democratic: change, 145 consolidation, 156 countries, 23 elements, 140 era, Argentina’s, 170 ethos, 125 forms of governance, 210 governance, 3, 15, 38, 79, 92, 120n10, 210, 216 government, 129 human rights standards, 1 ideas, 140 institutions, 125, 223

247

legacy, 126 policing, 14, 23, 34, 38, 84, 85, 145 (see also policing) police reform, 124 police transformation, 146 pre-era, 173 principles, 2, 11, 16, 138 public security policy, 33 reforms (see reforms) societies, 15 structures, 126 tradition, 100 transition, 171, 198 values, 93, 126, 147n8, 210 Democracy and Governance Project, 104–105 democracy, 61, 128, 132, 152, 156: and governance Project, 105 consolidation of, 51 electoral, 18 ideologies of, 202 liberal, 207 return to, 180 rise of, 197 transition to, 58, 166, 169 democratization, 19, 50, 80, 123, 132, 215, 223: impact of, 152 police relations, of 130 process, 198 theory, 6 Department for International Development (DFID), 103, 116 detención por sospecho, 158 demilitarization, 34, 57, 92, 123 demilitarized, 85 Dias-Cayeros, Alberto, 217 Dictatorships, brutality of, 194 Dillon, Samuel, 200 Director of Public Prosecution (DPP), 95 disciplinary: approach, 209 board, 185 measures, severe, 89

248

Index

sanctions, 89, 214, 215 system, 216 powers and duties, 185 punishments, 214 regulations, 82 discretion, police, 158 discretionary power, 171 Doig, Alan, 8 Dominican Republic, 35 Donato, P, 171 Dowdney, Luke, 54–56, 67 drug: defined crimes, 134 gangs, 55 policy, 195n12 trade, 55 traffickers, 55, 67 trafficking, 56, 63, 68, 171, 176 related crimes, 134 war, 56 Duhalde, 182 Dutil, Carlos, 171 education, 193 educational levels, low, 163 standards, 9 Eijkman, Quirine ,30, 47, 58 Elias, Norbert, 100 El Salvador, 21, 22, 24, 34, 36, 90: disciplinary investigative unit, 36 disciplinary tribunal, 36 external Inspector’s Office, 36 General Inspectorate (El Salvador), 34 Internal Affairs Unit, 36 new internal accountability system, 36 external change-agent, 124, 132 involvement, 135 partners, 125 extra-judicial: execution, 91 killings, 93, 99, 180

failed state, 18, 98–100, 118 favelas, 54, 63, 66, 67,74 favoritism, 11, 190, 214 federal: investigations agency, 174–175 Investigation Agency (see AFI) judicial police, 10, 25, 26, 29, 180–181, 185–186, 190, 199, 200, 204, 214, 218, 221, 222, 224n10 federalism, 183 federated nations, 170 Fenso, M, 163 Ferguson, T, 130 fingerprinting system, 111, 131 Fiscalía General, 179, 183 force: abuse of force, 166 authority to use, 128 deadly, 54 excessive, use of, 171 legitimate use of, 98 police use of, 23, 47, 59, 83 use of, 222 foreign: assistance, 18, 130, 132, 136, 137, Assistance Act, 101 assistance donors, 220 assistance, reception of, 135 experts, 129–132 relevance of assistance, 130 Operations Act (FAA) 101, 102 Operations Appropriations Act (FOAA), 102, 120n10 Police, 18 police services, the role of, 124 formalism, 8 foros vecinales, 181, 185 Fox, Vincente, president197, 214, 223 fragmentation, 25 Frühling, Hugo, 10, 17, 21, 27, 42, 47, 49, 53, 57, 58, 60, 90, 94n6, 155, 157, 163, 210, 211 Fuente, Claudio, 164 Fukoyama, Francis, 7

Index

Garst, Rachel, 81, 84 General Security Inspectorate (Dominican Republic), 35 Giddens, A, 127 Gitliz, J, 163 Glebbeek, Marie-Louise, 4, 13, 18, 51, 53, 57, 58, 77n9, 81, 84, 86, 94n2 Godoy, Angelina, 2, 202 Goetz, A, 126 Golding, Bruce, 111 Golding, Heather, 47, 52, 53, 57 Grant’s Pen, 105–106, 120n18, 122n37, 137, 138, 146: ability to replicate, 138 effective crime control, 138 evaluations, 141 implementation teams, 144 incentives for change, 142 insecurity and violence, 143 less police abuse, 144 local experience, 142 local organized crime network, 143 model, 116–117 possible outcomes, 143 public relations activities/ success, 145 sustainability decline violent crimes, 144 Grugel, J, 125 Guatemala, 5, 13, 21, 22, 30, 31, 34, 36, 38 67, 90: Agreement on the Strengthening of civil Power/ Role of the Army in a Arzú government, 82, 84 Commission of Historical Clarification (CEH), 81 counter-insurgency, 81, 82 Democratic Society (AFPC), 82, 84 Guardia de Hacienda (GH), 86, 87 internal investigation unit, the (ORP) local security councils (juntas), 89 National Civil Police (PNC), 18, 79, 82–86, 88–94 National Police (PN), 81, 82, 86 National Civil Police (CNC), 92

249

National Commission of Historical Clarification, 81–86 Peace Accords (Guatemala 1996), 1, 18, 79, 80–92 Patrullas Autodefensa Civil (PAC), 89 Portillo Presidency, 88, 90 United Nations Verification Mission in Guatemala (MINUGUA), 87, 91 Vice-Ministry of Citizen Support, 90 Haiti, 5 Haritos-Fatouros, Mika, 49 Harriott, 8, 16, 18, 99, 112, 126, 127, 147n15, 149n36, 203 Headley, B, 148n23 Heyman, P, 130 hierarchical / hierarchy, 76n4: military police, 64 relations, 85, 214 structure, 85 Hinton, Mercedes, 2, 94n6 Holloway, Thomas, 49 Honduras, 34, 36, 90 Huggins, Martha, 49, 57, 83, 163, 202, 208 Huguet, Clarissa, 54, 56, 78n19 human rights, 1, 19, 55, 80, 87, 158, 169, 183, 193, 194, 210, 215, 221, 223: abuse, 37, 53, 86, 102, 123, 163, 197, 211 adherence to, 209 Commission, 180, 193, 215 concerns, 135 course, 193 issues, 220, 222 police adherence to, 23 standards, 1, 13–19, 37, 47–56, 74, 76n7, 120n10, 219 violations, 2,10, 15, 56–60, 81, 86, 91, 101, 102, 135, 157, 212 Human Rights Watch, 55, 56, 58, 76n7, 165 Husain, Saima, 17, 22–24, 29, 37, 47, 210

250

Index

Implementation, 205 Implementation of National Crime Prevention Plan: Avelalaneda, 32 Buenos Aires, 31, 32 Morón, 32 impunity, 216 end, 87 Independent Commission on Policing for Northern Ireland, 47 informal: leadership , 97–98 networks, 11, 97, 98, 164 (social) realities, 8, 11, 55, 205, 208, 216, 219 information-driven, 10 insecurity: feelings of, 51, 66, 76n6 worries, 15 institutional: violence (see violence) 163, control, 3,10, 213, 215–220 Inter-American Development Bank, 37 internal affairs, 191 control mechanisms, 82 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, 47, 48 Integrated Ballistic Identification System (IBIS), 111 integrity, 12, 13, 18, 107, 114, 205, 215, 218: called into question, 145 fundamental, 111 increasing institutional, 9, 209, 218 institutional, 206, 209, 210, 213 institutionalized non-integrity, 14, 95, 99–101, 106–114 legal procedural, 135 managerial, lack of, 218 non- (see non-integrity) testing, 9 interagency collaboration, 10 internal: accountability (see accountability)

administrative control, lack of effectiveness, 30 affairs, 30,36, 165, 177–179, 191, 213 affairs unit, 30 control, 9–10, 22, 53, 82, 213–214, 223n3 disciplinary regulations, 83 disciplinary systems, 35 discipline, 35, 215 leadership (see leadership informal): Investigation Unit (ORP), 88 Offices of Professional Responsibility, 36, 37 opposition, 37, 205 (see also resistance) organization, 29 rules, 213 international: actors, 5 assistance initiatives, 105 cooperation, 134, 145 development partners, 134 impact cooperation (see transformation) limits of cooperation, 146 partners, 145 police assistance, 18, 95–96, 101–102, 112, 114–118 police officers, 135, 145 terrorism, 148n31 institutional control, 215, 218 investigative capabilities, recognized deficits, 135 investigations, efficiency and effectiveness, 131 high-tech techniques, 112 intelligence-driven, 110, 111 ISER, 55 Jamaica, 96, 125: American Chamber of Commerce of Jamaica, 116, 141 Crime Management Unit (CMU), 95, 99, 108

Index

Director of Public Prosecution (DPP), 95, 99 families against State Terrorism, 98, 99 Homicide Unit, 119 Jamaica Defense Force, 113 Jamaica’s Constabulary Force (JCF), 18, 98, 102, 104–109, 112–114, 118, 124–126, 128, 131, 132, 136, 142, 146, 146n1, 148n29 JCF Corporate Strategy, 103–105, 136, 138, 147n11, 148n27 Jamaican Labour Party (JLF), 97 Jamaican Minister of Security, 103 Legislative Council, 125 Military Intelligence Unit, 108 Model Policing and Services Centre, 117 National Committee on Crime and Violence, 97, 112 National Reserve, 113 People’s National Party (PNP), 99, 100 Police Public Complaints Authority, 101 Professional Standards Branch, 104 reduction homicide rate 2006, 144 jefaturas, 185 Jones, Peter, 97 judicial control, 9 Junta de Disciplina, 185–187 Justice Ministry’s Office of Criminal Policy, 173 Justiçia Global, 56, 63, 66, 67 Kadar, A, 94n6 Kaldor, M, 126 Kant De Lima, Roberto, 48–50 Keefer, Philip, 7, 210 Kelling, George, 645 kidnappings, 83, 182, 201–202 killing of four Salvadoran members of congress, 34, 79 Kingfish, Operation, 108–110, 120n21, 120 n25, 137, 145–146

251

Kirchner, Néstor, 171, 174, 175, 178: Presidency, 32 Klockars, C, 128 Knack, Stephan, 7 Knack, Stephen, 210 Koonings, Cees, 2, 207 Kossick, Robert, 201, 224n9 Kraal, 95–99, 108, 121n25 Kruyt, Dirk, 2, 81, 207 Lafalla, Arturo, 184 Lagos, Ricardo, President, 154 La Rioja, 19, 171, 183, 188–193: Business Improvement districts, 192 Community Prevention Brigade, 189, 193 Coordination Committee for Youths, 189 Education Centre for gang-members, 189 Integration Program, 189 Law of Prevention of alcohol Consumption, 192 Operative Councils of Intersectional Coordination, 189 Latinobarómetro Survey, 22,26 Lazana, Katerina, 119n1 leadership, 13, 141, 158, 206, 207: civilian instructors, 35 civilian, police, 185, 185 committed, 206 informal, 98 reform, 132 Leahy Amendment, 102 Leeds, Elisabeth, 55 legitimacy, 5, 8, 16, 18, 27, 19, 53–54, 76n3, 90, 92, 97–113, 127–128, 208, 213: institutional, 27 judicial, 170 police, 206, 212 social, 192 legitimate violence, tolerance of, 165 Leishman, F, 130 León, Arévalo de, 83

252

Index

Licht, Silvia, 171 Llorente, Maria, 25, 39, 40 local initiatives, 89 London bombing July 2005, 133 López Portillo, Ernesto, 25, 26 Lowry, Bruce, 54 Lucias, Thomas, 124 Luckham, R, 126 Luzani, Telma, 8 lynchings, 52, 80, 91, 93, 201 Macaulay, Fiona, 56 MacMillan, Trevor, 132, 147n15 Magaloni, Beatriz, 217 Malarino, Ezequiel, 25 Maldonado, C, 155 management: improving police, 37 New Public Management (NMP) 129–30, 158 police (see police) weak, 177 managerial capabilities, lack of, 218 competence, lack of, 11 Mani, R, 94n6 mano dura, 2, 15, 19, 80, 91, 126, 136, 158, 172–187 Manzano, Liliana, 31 mara’s, 83–84 Marenin, O, 94n6 Mars, J, 127 McIlwaine, C, 83 McLaughlin, Eugene, 77n10 Méndez, Juan, 51, 163 Mendoza, 14, 35, 91, 171, 179, 183–188, 211: anti-family violence project, 186 citizen security reform 1999, 188 community policing, 186 Congressional Bicameral Security Commission, 185 Coordinator of Security, 185 Department Security Councils, 185 General Inspector of Security, 35, 185

Junta de Disciplina, 187 local health centers, 186 Ministry of Justice and Security, 184 Office of Victim Assistance, 188 Overhaul provincial police, 186 Security Secretariat, 191 Strategic Plan of Security and Prevention of “Anti-Social” Conduct, 184 Menem: President, 172, 176, 188 administration, 173 re-election, 173 Mesquita Neto, Paulo, de, 31, 47, 66 Mexico, 1, 5, 9, 10, 26, 170, 204, 205, 207, 208, 210, 216, 28: Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD), 197, 199 Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), 197 National Action Party (PAN), 197 National Program to Obtain Justice, 204 National 2001–2006 Plan to Combat Corruption and Promote Administrative National Public Security System, 25 Transparency and Development, 204 Mexico City, 19–20, 25, 170, 198–202, 204–206, 208, 209, 211, 214–217, 224n8: Security Law of the Federal District, 224 Michaels, Marguerite, 76n5 militarization, 39, 58 demilitarization, 48 military, 89: characteristics, 85, 155 codes, 167 courts, 154, 163, 164 dictatorship, 19, 123, 152, 153, 155, 163, 172 doctrine, 24 ethos, 59 force, 58

Index

government, 155, 156 hierarchy, 58 influence (on policing models), 29, 58, 81 institutions, 167 interventions, 25 involvement, 59 junta, 23, 156 justice (system), 12, 19, 152, 153–154, 163–168 legacy, 1 mauld, 25 model, 43 nature police, 58 paramilitary approach, 117 police, 30, 37, 49, 50, 55, 76n3, 155 police functions, and, 23 political relations, 157 realm, 156 regimes, 30, 43, 57 rule, 123 system, highly secretive, 167 tradition, 43 uprising, 182 violence, 58 militarized: hierarchies, 179 paradigm, 185 police Chile, 27 Minas Gerais 37, 205: system of results-oriented policing, 37 traditional accountability mechanism, 37 Ministry of Justice, Security and Human Rights, 175 Ministry of National Security, 110, 121n24 MINUGUA, 87, 91 mistrust (distrust), viii, 6–8, 26–30, 55, 56, 83, 107, 111, 155, 158, 170, 198, 205–206, 211–212, 219 Model Police Station Program, 37, 48, 49, 68–75, 78n25 Model Policing and Services Center, 117 modernity, 129

253

modernization, 5. 18. 29, 31–32, 40–43, 128–132, 143, 154, 161: initiatives, 37 process, 143 program (initiatives), 37, 103, 128, 129, 130 technical, 131 Morris, Stephen, 9 Moser, C, 83 Municipal Security Defenders, 181 Musumeci, Leonarda, 58 National: Committee on Crime and Violence, 97–112 crime prevention plan, 44, 72, 174–175 Police of Colombia, 26 Nef, Jorge, 8 neighborhood : forums, 185 security forums, 181 watch groups, 89 Neild, Rachel, 21, 38, 51, 53, 56, 58, 102, 103, 222 Neunquén, 179 New York, 16 NGO, 5, 139, 141, 178, 192, 207, 219–220 Nicaragua, 21, 23, 90 non-integrity, 8, 13–17, 95, 99–107, 114, 207, 213–216: institutionalized. 23, 171 Obrador, López, 200, 201 O’Donnell, G, 51 Office of: National Crime Prevention Plan, 31–32, 44n2 Oliveira Muniz, Jacqueline, 49, 58, 76n4 Olmos, Henry, 63, 67 Operation Kingfish, 103, 108–110, 137, 145, 146 operational independence, 222 Organization of American States, 55

254

oversight mechanisms, internal and external, 87 Oviedo, E, 156 Panama, 21, 23, 34 Pansters, Wil, 199, 200 Paraquay, 22 participation: community, 14, 140, ensuring, 141 local governments, 35 meaningful, 140, 141 multicultural, 92 participatory methods, structures, processes, 141 politics of, 126 right of, 138 theoretical, lapse of, 142 participatory: method, 141 structures, 141 Partido Democrático, 184 Patrullas Autodefensa Civil, 89 Payne, A, 125 Pavão-Pavãozinho-Cantalan, 66–68 Peace Accords (see Guatemala) penal codes, 172 PERF (Police Executive Research Forum), 104–116, 119n4, 121n33, 121n35, 130, 137, 141, 149n37 Personal Digital Assistant (PDA), 111 personalized security web, 211 Peru, 5, 24, 28, 33, 43, 170: National Citizen Security System, 33 National Commission for Public Security, 33 peso-crisis, 198 Pharr, Susan, 8 Pinheiro, Paulo, 51, 52 Pinochet 5, 19: Post-, 6 loss of credibility, 9 dictatorship, 19, 153, 155, 163 Plan Minerva, 37 PNC (see Guatemala)

Index

police-community relations strengthening (etc.) 21–23, 37, 42, 59, 63, 89, 90, 149n35 police: abuse, 52, 64, 84, 164, 165, 167, 180, 187, 214 abuse of force, 166 abuse of power, 127 accountability, 138 assistance, (see assistance) brutality, 101 community oriented, making -, 212 community projects, 172 control and procurement, 177 decentralization of, 212 democratization of, 127 depoliticized, 209 discretion, 158 doctrine, 43 education, 186 excesses, 113 fear of, decreasing, 73 functions, 23, 25, 41, 84 identity, 220, 223 ineffectiveness, 131 information, 212 judicial relations, 191 killings, 101, 113, 145, 146, 177, 182, 195n10 legitimacy, 206, 212 management, 13, 17, 37, 40–44, 100, 190, 207 military nature of, 58 misconduct, 166 performance, 4, 12, 26, 34, 90, 159, 160 policies, central, 91 power of, 158 powers, 197 promotions (see promotions) reforms, 7, 112, 123, 194 reform programs, 115 resistance (see resistance) rights-based organization, 219 tactics, violent, 100

Index

transformation emphasizing, 131 unnecessary force, use of, 161 vertical command structures, 43 vigilantism, 124 violence, 67, 111, 152–154, 161, 164–166, 184 violent means, use of, 167 police-public: Complaints Authority, 101 confidence, 212 contacts, 212 informal relations, 211 interaction, 16, 206, 212 mistrust, mutual, 211 relations, 8, 57, 205, 206, 211 relations, anonymous, 206 reliable partnerships, condition for success, 138 police-citizens relations, 88, 139 policing: battle to take control of, 176 brutal—methods, 18 centralized, 89 civil, 76 cooperation, 137 Community Based (BPS) 128, 138, 194 community models of, 17 community-oriented, 61, 63, 65–67, 75 democratic, 23, 34, 38, 84, 85, 145 democratic principles of, 87 democratization of, 127 effective, 29 effectiveness, 12, 55, efficiency, 12, 36, 40 fear of, decreasing, 73 good, 129 human rights-based, 14 impact on crime, 144 in crisis, 201 ineffective, 143 ineffective methods of, 144 integrity of, 115 methods, 15, 18 militarized, 84

255

militarized model of, 55 model of, 18 modernization of, 18 new grounds on, 174 operational, 104, 105, 107, 114, 118 partnership, 18 personalization of, 212 personalized model, 14, 214, 219 political, 19, 127, 202 politicized nature of, 202 pre-emptive, 108 preventive, 76n3, 194, 211 problem-oriented, 19, 169–178, 183, 190–194 professional, 208 quality of, 12 repression-based, 173, 191 repressive, 59, 64, 93, 94, 222 results-oriented, 37 rights-based, 197 scandals, 92 struggle—styles, 176, 178 style, integrative rethinking, 107 system, 7, 206 traditional, 42, 62–68, 169, 173, 174 tribalism, 97 violent tactics, 112 Ponce, N, 161 post-authoritarianism, 4, 6, 57, 92, 111 Powell, L, 126, 148n33 Preston, Julia, 200 problem-oriented approach, 169, 174 Proceso, 172, 180 Procurator District Office (PGDF), 200 professionalism, 4, 10, 60, 68, 84, 93–94, 118, 158–159, 193 professionalization, 43, 48, 68, 76, 208, 209, 223 promotions police, 11, 59, 74, 77, 186, 219, 222 prosecution, arbitrary, politicized, 9 Protasio dos Reis, Gilberto, 37 public: antagonistic, 7 assistance, 16

256

Index

confidence, 7, 206, 223n3 defenders’ office, 167 demands, 2, 60, 91, 172–173, 194 dissatisfaction, 212 hearing, 162 information, 16 insecurity, 5 interrogations, 162 Office of—Safety (OPS), 102 opinion, 2, 145, 158, 167, 172 opinion, impact on opinion surveys (corruption JCF), 148n26 order, 167, 194 perceptions, 15, 28 pressure, 188 relations, 142, 145 security, 15, 92, 157, 202 security, implementation of, 77n13 security institutions, 223n3 service, 8 support for violent police practices, 56 suspicion, 211 trust, (see trust) punishments, capital and corporal, 2 punitive: institutional control mechanisms, 215 model, 208, 209 purge, 36 Putman, Robert, 7, 210 race and gender, 123 Ragendorfer, Ricardo, 171 Ramos, Silvia, 58 Red Command, 67 reform(s) vii, viii, 1081, 92, 219: agenda, 6, 141, 203 ambitious, 184 anti-democratic, 209 arbitrary and politicized nature of, 178 authoritarian, 209 bottom-up, 13–14 broad range of, 185

citizen security, 171, 184, 188 Colombian process, 44n5 comprehensive, 194 comprehensive police, 38 comprehensive public policy, 31, 38, 171, 194, 203–204 conditions and prospects for Mexican police, 205 criminal justice, 2, 6, 12, 161, 197, 204, 207 democratic, 207, 209 democratic police, 86, 92, 124 democratically-based institutional, 209 effective, 44, 178 effective and lasting, 8 enhancing policing, 91 uture, viii, 206 grand-design, 12, 13, 203–204 implementation, 33, 112, 218 initiating police, 106 initiatives, 38, 44, 92, 183, 203 institutional, viii, 28, 79, 209, 219 judicial, viii, 5,6,10, 13, 15, 161–162, 203–204, 206–207 legal, 10–12, 158, 219 long-term impact, 10 long-term perspective, 11 modernizing, 213 national, 198 National Commission for Police Reform, 26 objectives, 11, 32, 41–42 organizational police, 13, 219 origins of police, 29 outcome of, 118 piecemeal, 12–13 police, (see police) process, 204, 219 professionalization provincial citizen security —, 183 prompted by rampant crime, abuse and corruption, 180 reform of the, 162 relevance of, 198

Index

renewed, 180, 183 security sector, 123 small steps, 19 sources of, 4 state-driven, 4 strategies, 17, 57 successful, 223 sustainability, 11, 17 threat to fighting crime, as, 183 top-down, 13, 85, 203, 219 types of, 13, 34, 203, 206 youths-oriented citizen security, 191 rehabilitative programs, 2 resistance: ideological, 24 institutional, 183 police and internal, 19, 24, 27, 35, 39, 43, 44, 86, 124, 135, 178, 180, 181, 186, 190, 222 sanctions, of , 209 Rico, J., 94n6, 196n16 right(s), basic, 127, 133 citizenry, of, 123 civil protection, 172 detainee, 180 education, 180 individual, 53, 126 individual liberty, 180 institutionalized, 11 life, to, 133 -oriented policing, 18 privacy, 111 protection, 17 rank-and-file, of, 13, 219 victims of, 161 Rio de Janeiro, 22, 30, 37, 48, 49, 59, 61,62–65, 68–70, 73, 171: Community Breakfast, 62 Community Policing Patrols, 64 Community Security Councils, 62, 63 Integrated Area of Public Security (AISP), 62, 63

257

Special Areas Policing Group (GPEA), 63, 67, 68 Rivas, Angela, 40 Roninger, Louis, 210 Rosin, Eileen, 102 Rotker, Susana, 66 rule of law, 1, 6, 9, 11, 12, 51, 53, 80, 84, 85, 91, 93, 98, 152–154, 170, 216, 218, 219, 223: internalization of—values, 20, 215, 216 model, 210 neutrally upholding, 208 Ruthenburg, Meg, 2 Salas, L, 94n6 San Luis, 179, 180 São Paulo, 38, 50 school for fathers, 186 Scotland Yard, 96–97, 100, 103–104, 107–108, 110, 120n11, 120n12, 120n25 security, 12, 15, 16, 91, 206, 210, 211, 219: active participation community residents, 140 agenda, 6, 157 citizen paradigm, 170 citizen, 27, 32–33. 39, 41, 157, 171, 183, 188, 192, 194 citizen—reform (see reform) colonial doctrines, 126 councils (juntas), 41, 62–65, 84, 90, 188 demands citizens, 183 deterrent policies, 90 doctrine of internal, 58 doctrine of national, 57 external, 59 Federal Secretary of Public Security, 25 feelings of, 66 government measures, 157 increase of, 212 Integrated Area of Public, 62, 63

258

Index

internal, 59, 88, 92 issues, 192 Municipal Security Defender, 181 national—doctrine, 19, 157 national, 126 national citizen—system, 33 National Commission for Citizen—, 33 national policy for citizen —, 32, 155 national plan, 32, 174 National Academy of Public —, 125, national trends in, 171 neighborhood—forums, 185 network of—coordinators, 176 policies, 155, 183 private, 128 programs, 40 promote, 66 provincial system, 194 public (see public) selection (criteria for police), 9–10, 44, 59, 60, 76n4: procedures, 86 structures, 179 University Institute of Public Security (IUSP), 35, 185 Seligson, Mitchel, 8 Serrano, Major General Rosso José Servicio Nacional de Menores, 27 Servicio Nacional de la Muher, 27 Shearing, Clifford, 60 Shields, DCP, 110, 111 shoot-to-kill policy, 2, 100–102 Sigal, Eduardo, 171 silent majority, 3 Simon, J, 81 Skogan, Wesley, 90 Smith, N, 149n37 Smulovitz, Catalina, 76n6 Soaras, Luiz Eduardo, 63 social: capital, 3, 6 capital networks, 3 cleansing, 54, 84, 93 factors, 97

intervention, 110 realities, divergent, 64 socioeconomic conditions, 170, 210 South Bronx, 16 Spackman, A., 125 Stanley, William, 21 Starie, P., 130 state, 22–26, 30, 31, 37, 38, 48–53, 59, 61, 63, 131, 138, 142: actors, 220, agencies, 143 anti-corruption drives, 209 bureaucracies, 7 central—structure, 205 control, 25 failed/failure, 98, 133 fragile, 98 institutions, 9, 55, 71, 133, 209, 220 non-state actors, 139 non-state resources, and, 143 owned, 31 police (forces), 23, 25, 48 “pre-criminal,” 172 reforms, 31 relationship citizens, 131 security, 133 services, 143 strategy/strategies: change, of, 139 community policing, 90 corporate strategy JCF, 103 counter-insurgency, 25 crime control, 112 hope, of, 116 management resource, 60 police, 113, 152, 161 police human rights, 47, 48 reform, (see reform) tactical, 109 strategic cooperation, 136 summary executions, 15 supervision of police, 23, 34, 37, 74 sustainable improvements 17 Sutton, P., 125

Index

Taylor, C., 149n37 technology, 60, 75 testimonial evidence, 121 Theobald, Robin, 8 Torres-Rivas, Edelberto, 83 torture, 10, 12, 15, 47, 49–51, 54, 57, 73, 81, 91, 155, 180, 196n13, 220 training, 12, 20, 69, 72, 76n4, 82, 86, 93, 137, 142, 177, 186, 187, 190, 222: broad educational, 223 education curricula programs, 178, 181 enhance, 208 firearms, 71, 224n10 human rights, 222 improved, 48 insufficient firearms, 177 integral, 222 on-the-job, 29, 220–222, 224n10 physical, 220, 221 police, 28, 29, 87, 220, 222 poor, 29, 177 process, 142 programs, 222 Safe Encounters for Law Enforcement Officers, 105 sub-standard, 13 transformation: grand-design, 137 impact international cooperation, 139 police, 123, 131, 135, 138, 139, 146, 209: police-citizens relations, 139 post-colonial, 137 process of, 139 public perception Carabineiros, 167 relations JCF and population, 138 transition, 157, 166: towards democracy, 7 towards democratic governance, 216 transnational: character Jamaican crime, 136 criminal networks, 133, 134, 136 investigations, 133 organized crime, 133

259

transparency, 4, 8, 9, 12, 38, 88, 92, 114, 120n12, 123, 124, 128, 132, 151, 161, 168n2, 179–180, 204 trials: adversarial, 5 open, 160 oral, 5, 170, 191, 192 trust, viii, 109, 123, 206, 209, 211, 212: class related, 128, 159 building, 3, 106–107, 117, 128 focalized, 210 generation of, 209 high degree/ level of, 160, 167 improving, 19, 67, 116, 206 institutional, 7, 132, 173, 209, 213 judiciary in, 177 lack of, 6, 8 low trust society, 128 personal, 211 police, in the, 27 public, 6–7, 106, 160, 164, 166–167, 209, 210 re-establish, 7, 206 restoring. 123 social, 3, 7, 213 variations in, 160 Tulchin, Joseph, 2, 47, 52, 53, 57 Uildriks, Niels, 8, 10, 18, 21, 24, 29, 36, 197, 204, 207, 211, 213, 218, 223n2 UNDP report 2004, 15 Ungar, Mark, 11, 14, 15, 19, 32, 35, 203, 211 Unified System of Information on Violence (Colombia), 40 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 47, 48 University Institute of Public Security, 185 University Institute of Public Security (Dominican Republic), 35 (un)rule of law, 51, 213, 216 Urban Guard, 176 Uruguay, 191

260

Index

Venezuela, 26, 30, 170: National Commission for Police Reform, 26 Public Security Council, 26 vertical command structures, 13 victimization survey, 27–28, 30, 149n38 Viera de Souza, Renato, 37 vigilantism, 54 Vilas, Carlos, 201 Villa Nueva, 38 violence 23, 25, 56, 57, 67, 79, 80, 83, 96, 101, 159: criminal, 2,5, 17, 27, 30, 53, 133–135, 140 culture of 68, 83 deadly, 113, 116 democratization of, 2 domestic, 32,62, 71, 119n10, 189 drug-related, 200 gang, 97–98, 107, 110, 200 institutionalized, 95, 115, 155 legacy of, 92 legitimatizing use of, 54

military, 58 police, 2, 30, 50–54, 60–61, 67, 76n3, 100–11, 115, 119n5, 152–154, 158, 164–168, 179, 184, 195n1 political, 80 post-war, 79–80, 83–84, 93 school, 32 social, 111 social factors, 97 spiraling cycle of, 18, 96, 100, 119n4 threat of, 159 Ward, Heather, 5 Weschler, Lawrence, 49, 57 witness protection, 109 Wycoff, Mary Ann, 64 Youngers, Coletta, 102 Zepeda, Guillermo, 224n9 zero tolerance, 16, 153, 200, 201 Zimbardo, Philip, 49

On the Authors

Lucia Dammert studied sociology and is a director of the Program on Security and Citizenship at the Latin American Faculty of Social Sciences FLACSO in Chile. Hugo Frühling is a professor at the Institute of Public Affairs of the University of Chile and Director of the Center for the Study of Public Security of the University of Chile. He has a JD from the University of Chile and an SJD from Harvard Law School. He has written extensively on police and judicial reform and on human rights in Latin America. Marie-Louise Glebbeek is assistant professor at the Department of Cultural Anthropology at Utrecht University in the Netherlands. She did her PhD on police reform in post–civil war Guatemala, and is advisor to the Proyecto de Innovación Curricular Guatemala-Holanda, a collaboration between the Dutch Ministry of Development Cooperation and the Guatemalan Police Academy that is working on curriculum reform. Her current research project focuses on violence, crime, and citizens’ security in post-war countries and fragile states. Anthony Harriott is a professor of Political Sociology at the UWI. He is currently the director of the Institute of Criminal Justice and Security, and the Head of the Department of Government at the Mona Campus. He has written primarily on the issues of violence and policing in Caribbean societies. These include Police and Crime Control in Jamaica: Problems of Reforming Ex-colonial — 261 —

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On the Authors

Constabularies, Understanding Crime in Jamaica—New Challenges for Public Policy and Organized Crime and Politics: Breaking the Nexus. Saima Husain has a PhD in Human Rights from the Netherlands School of Human Rights Research at Utrecht University, The Netherlands, and a BSc in Psychology and Sociology from Union College, Schenectady, New York. She is currently a community advocate with the AWAZ—Voices Against Violence unit of the South Asian Network—where she conducts research and advocacy for the safety and empowerment of survivors of violence. Niels Uildriks is an international police researcher and consultant. He has worked at the Erasmus University Rotterdam, Utrecht University, and the Police Academy of the Netherlands. He has published on police-public violence, torture, accountability, complaints procedures, human rights, and police and judicial reform in different countries, specifically in Eastern Europe. His book Mexico’s Unrule of Law: Human Rights and Police Reform Under Democratization is forthcoming (Lexington). Mark Ungar is a professor of political science and criminal justice at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. He specializes in judicial and police reform and has worked as an advisor to the United Nations, InterAmerican Development Bank, and with governmental and non-governmental agencies in Argentina, Bolivia, and Honduras.