Juvenile Justice Reform: Punishment? Paternalism? Or Partnership?

The landscape of juvenile justice is changing. Instead of building "supermax" juvenile prisons, we are now investing in community-based alternatives. Where we once saw "killer kids," we now see children in need of services.

This change, for which advocates on the margins fought vigorously for years, has now gained traction in the mainstream. Its implementation has been made possible by skyrocketing incarceration costs that threaten to cannibalize city and state budgets if not curtailed. It is far cheaper to spend $15,000 on evidence-based home services than $150,000 for a bed in a juvenile facility. 

It wasn't always this way. In the 1990s, criminologists terrified the nation with warnings of a coming juvenile crime wave. In 1996, John DiIulio, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania, coined the term "Super-Predator" to describe a generation of young people, who born to crack-addicted mothers and raised on gangsta rap and violent video games, would soon wreak havoc on America.

“Based on all that we have witnessed, researched and heard from people who are close to the action, here is what we believe: America is now home to thickening ranks of juvenile ‘superpredators’ — radically impulsive, brutally remorseless youngsters, including ever more pre-teenage boys, who murder, assault, rape, rob, burglarize, deal deadly drugs, join gun-toting gangs and create serious communal disorders.” (Bennett, DiIulio, and Walters, 1996)

DiIluio’s dire warnings helped fuel the mad rush to criminalize children. Between 1992 and 1997, all but three states enacted laws to make their juvenile justice systems more punitive, allowing prosecutors to try youth as adults, and send them to prison for longer periods of time. The threat was not all young people, but Black and Latino youth from poor, urban communities, described euphemistically as “inner-city children.” The problem wasn’t just the young people, but the essential criminality of their families and communities. “At core,” DiIulio wrote, “the problem is that most inner-city children grow up surrounded by teenagers and adults who are themselves deviant, delinquent or criminal.”

Ironically, the march to incarcerate accelerated just as the unprecedented rise in violent juvenile crime was starting to decline. While juvenile homicides increased 110 percent between 1987 and 1993, they fell almost as rapidly by 68 percent between 1994 and 2003. Juvenile arrests for other violent crimes fell as well, and by 2003, the offending rate had returned to the levels of the early 1980s (Butts & Travis, 2002).

But the damage was already done. Youth prisons had been built. State laws had been changed to try ever more young people as adults. Police were stationed first in urban high schools, and then even middle schools. Black and Latino youth were looked at as a menace to society, a danger that had to be controlled.

We are starting to realize the error of our ways. As serious juvenile crime has continued to fall, and states have realized they cannot afford to incarcerate so many children, the pendulum has shifted away from punishment, back towards a rehabilitative response to youth delinquency. New research proves that therapeutic interventions are effective in preventing re-offending. A host of new programs has been developed, tested, replicated and packaged to help fix broken kids. Whereas incarceration was once a catchall response to the needs of “high-risk” youth, a veritable alphabet soup of off-the-shelf programs is now available to treat young people. Programs like multi-systemic therapy (MST), functional family therapy (FFT), aggression replacement therapy (ART), and multi-dimensional foster care treatment (MDFCT) have been taken to scale, reducing overreliance on incarceration, cutting prison spending, and keeping children safely at home.

The switch from a punishment-focused juvenile justice system to treatment-focused system is a welcome one. When it comes to holding youth accountable for their actions and developing children into pro-social adults, I happily choose counselors over correction officers, and professional treatment over prisons. Less incarceration and more services is certainly a good thing.

Yet as one who holds to the core conviction that all youth, families and communities are imbued with strengths, I can’t help but notice a disturbing strain of paternalism in many juvenile justice reform efforts. These approaches don’t view young people as essentially criminal, but they still assume that young people need to be “fixed.” Helping professionals are now seen as the answer to the problems inherent in poor communities. I fear that we are dismantling the prison industrial complex only to replace it with a new system that, while kindler and gentler, still holds to the notion that there is something fundamentally wrong with children, families and communities of color.

I believe there is another way to address what must seem to some an intractable problem. Yet this approach requires looking at young people, families, and their communities through a completely different lens. It requires policy makers to take off the punitive lens, that views young people as risks to be controlled. It requires practitioners to take off the paternalistic lens that views children, families and communities as essentially needy. It requires a new vision grounded in partnership. This strength-based approach looks at young people as assets to be developed, their families as irreplaceable, and the members of their communities as primary partners.

I often hear high-crime, low-income neighborhoods described as resource-deprived and lacking in services. Yet I find that these same communities are bursting with assets that can be marshaled to surround young people with the supports they need to thrive. These assets are found in the form of grassroots faith and neighborhood organizations that operate below the radar of government, academic, and philanthropic institutions. These assets are found in programs operating in the basements of housing projects and storefront churches. These assets are the fathers returning home from decades in prison, many of whom were once caught up in the crack game, and are now seeking to rebuild the same communities they once helped destroy. These assets are mothers who are healing themselves from the trauma of having their own children taken away, by helping other parents hold on to theirs. These assets are the young people themselves, who are exploding with intelligence, creativity, and leadership and have better ideas than any of us can imagine.

Even the criminologist who was once the nation’s foremost proponent of juvenile incarceration eventually changed his lens. John DiIulio underwent a conversion of sorts when he walked the streets of the neighborhoods he had once only written about. His eyes were opened when he met men and women – mostly in urban Black churches – who were working fervently, joyfully and effectively to keep young people out of jail. In his 1999 editorial for the Wall Street Journal, “Two Million Prisoners are Enough,” DiIulio publically repented of his incarceration-first approach and called for investing in community-based solutions to the problem of juvenile crime. “If I had known then what I know now,” DiIulio stated in a 2001 interview, “I would have shouted for the prevention of crime.”

We can fix the damage done by the era of mass incarceration. But we can’t do it if we continue to view young people, their families and their communities as essentially dangerous, needy, or broken. We must move forward in the spirit of partnership, one in which those who hold power give up the need for primacy, authority and control. This means building the capacity of communities to develop strategies to respond to their challenges. It means listening to young people. It means engaging their families. It means investing in grassroots faith and neighborhood organizations that are already doing the work on shoestring budgets. Partnership means trusting those who were once thought to be “the problem” to rebuild communities decimated by America’s addiction to incarceration.

Love The Police

In an era where community frustration over racial profiling, police brutality, and the notorious Stop-Question-and-Frisk policy has reached a boiling point, an unexpected phrase has been echoing in my spirit.

"Love the Police"

I have never been one to defend the policies and practices of the police in communities of color. In fact, I constantly speak out against overzealous police practices that criminalize young people. There have been rare occasion where I have been stopped and questioned (though never frisked) in my South Bronx neighborhood. More often, I’ve listened to the frustration, pain, and anger of Black and Latino young men whose encounters with the police were marked by considerably more aggression, humiliation, and disrespect than mine. I have often viewed the police as “the enemy” in the fight against mass incarceration, and seen them as “persecutors” of the young people I fight to keep out of prison.

Yet as one working in the tradition of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King and other faith-led social justice activists from a distinctly Christian position, I am convicted and compelled to always choose a stance of love towards those I engage, even when we are at odds. Jesus gave the radical command to his followers: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” In this short piece, I suggest several ways that people of faith can love the police in the struggle for community justice.

1.     Humanize the Police

Far too often, those of us who struggle for justice fall prey to the same evils we detest. “Why do I hate the police?” asked a young activist. “Because those pigs treat us like animals!” “I hate the boys in blue because they look at a young person and just because they see baggy pants and a hoodie they assume he’s a thug.” While the critique of police behavior may be true, we must intentionally choose not to dehumanize or to stereotype those who act that way towards us. We cannot reduce the person wearing the uniform to anything less than a fellow human being made in the image of God. We must remember that each police officer is also a son, a daughter, a husband, a wife, a father, a mother, sister or brother.

2.     Hate the Policy, Love the Police

It is not wrong to hate bad policies like Stop-and-Frisk. We must hate police brutality. We should detest racial profiling. The Bible tells us to “hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” (Romans 12:9). Loving the police doesn’t mean we condone bad behavior, bad policy, and bad practices. We must not shrink back from hating the policy because we love the police. Yet we also cannot allow hatred of a bad policy to extend to the people carrying out the objectionable practice. Defenders of the NYPD often say that a few bad apples are responsible for the abusive practices. My opinion is that bad policy compels even good officers to engage in bad practices. As the Christian cliché tells us to “hate the sin, love the sinner,” we too must love the people who carry out the policies, even while decrying those same policies.

3.     Rebuke the Police

To love the police also means to speak out against discriminatory and abusive police practices. Love is not soft, spineless acquiescence to evil. It is not remaining silent in the face of injustice, or excusing bad behavior. The Bible sets a higher standard for love when God says: “Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline” (Rev 3:19) and “the Lord disciplines those he loves and disciplines everyone he accepts as a child.” (Heb 12:6).  It is an act of love to correct those who are doing wrong. It is an act of love to speak truth to power. We call people to repentance not because we hate them, but because we love them and want them to do right. The police, as public servants, must always be accountable to the community, not free from correction, rebuke or critique.

4.     Befriend the Police

For a time, I held a guarded – even hostile – attitude towards the police. Living across the street from the precinct, I had multiple interactions with police officers ranging from dismissive brush-offs, to outright rudeness. As my involvement in police brutality cases grew – Rahmarley Graham, Jatiek Reid, Reynaldo Cuevas, Wilson Reyes – I found myself increasingly suspicious, afraid and angry at the police. One morning, the Spirit spoke to me, saying “I want you to greet every officer you meet on the street.” After my initial protests, I was obedient to the voice of God, and began to loudly and cheerily say “Good Morning, Officer!” to every member of the police force I encountered. Their first response was surprise, confusion – perhaps they were accustomed to hostility from community members. But then they would warm up and respond with a greeting of their own. Over the last few months, I have even developed what may be the start of friendships with several officers in the 40^th precinct.

5.     Engage the Police

Finally, we must engage the police and offer our help and support in developing pro-active community responses to crime, initiatives to ease tension between police and community residents, and strategies to help police behave more responsively to the broader community. Last summer, I began to engage my local precinct with offers to help them deal with juveniles arrested for minor crimes. A new precinct commander displayed an unprecedented level of willingness to support collaboration, and now officers even divert youth to our program in certain cases instead of arresting them. I was nominated to join the 40^th Precinct Community Council, and now have the opportunity to help develop more initiatives to heal the police-community divide.

The criminalization of young people of color in New York City cannot be ignored and requires people of good faith to fight the good fight for justice and for peace. As we fight, we must remember that "we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." (Eph 6:12).

As we wrestle against these powers and principalities we must take care not to hate, for hate is a carnal weapon, and “the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds" (2 Cor 10:4). We cannot – must not – give in to hate, but rather, overcome hate with love, as this closing quote by Dr. King so aptly puts it:

“Now there is a final reason I think that Jesus says, "Love your enemies." It is this: that love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can’t stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they’ll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That’s love, you see. It is redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love. There’s something about love that builds up and is creative. There is something about hate that tears down and is destructive. So love your enemies. (from "Loving Your Enemies")”

- Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Disconnected Policing

Earlier this evening, while walking home from a community meeting in Mott Haven's Brook Park, I witnessed once again the foolishness of the NYPD's approach to policing in communities of color. I was walking south on Willis Avenue when a couple of teenage boys bounced past us, huge smiles on their faces. One tried to grab the other, but he twisted from his grip, and these two friends continued down the block, laughing and having fun the way teenage boys do.

And then two NYPD officers crossed the street, and I tensed up, anxious that these two young men might wind up with a ticket for disorderly conduct, or something worse. The boys were already around the corner, so the officers approached a group of pre-teen girls standing in front of the corner deli. My wife and I (and the two puppies we're currently fostering), picked up our pace to see what was happening. We knew full well how quickly interactions between youth and police can spin out of control, and we wanted to make sure nothing bad happened on this warm summer evening. Before we could get close, the girls dispersed and walked away from the deli, shoulders slumped and heads down. We caught up to them and my wife asked, "What did the officers say to you?" 

"They told us we couldn't be here."

"They told us to go home."

"They made us leave."

They say urban youth hide their emotions well, but as I studied their faces, I saw hurt, fear, and dejection. This interaction with the police was clearly a negative one.

While I was thinking of what to say to them, my friend Abdul Malik, (on his way home from the same community meeting), joined us and he too asked the girls what had happened. They repeated their story, and after asking their names and ages (the youngest was ten and the oldest fourteen), Abdul Malik turned to me and said, "I have to address this." He asked me to videotape him and he approached the officers who were now standing in front of the deli, in the spot where the girls previously were.

(Quick aside: Abdul Malik is a community activist, a dedicated anti-violence worker who engages with many of the toughest youth in the neighborhood, a religious leader, and an advocate for justice. He's also twice my size, afraid of nothing, and a little bit more confrontational than me...)

"Excuse me officers," he began, extending his hand. "My name is Abdul Malik, I live in this community and I work with young people here. What was the problem here that you had to tell these girls to go away?"

"Well, there was a group of youth fighting --"

"Was it these girls who were fighting?"

"No, but there were some guys fighting over them --"

"Do you mean the two boys who were play fighting just now? Because I saw that too and they were nowhere near those girls. I'm just trying to understand what reason you had to ask these girls to move."

The officers were starting to look uncomfortable.

"Well, when we have young people standing in groups of three or more we're supposed to tell them to disperse. It's a safety issue -- "

"I'm just trying to understand something here: what threat could these girls - the youngest of whom is ten and the oldest fourteen - possibly pose?"

Abdul Malik continued his line of questioning and we learned that the officers were new on the force, just months out of the academy. They are part of the NYPD's Impact Policing strategy that floods high crime areas with new recruits, sending them on walking tours around the community. We finished the conversation and returned to the girls, who were now laughing and playing with my wife's puppies. Abdul Malik asked the girls to go home and tell their parents what had happened. Their body language changed again. They seemed to shrink and again their eyes were on the sidewalk.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said. "You're not in trouble. Listen, we want you to tell your parents because you didn't do anything wrong and you shouldn't be treated like this. In fact, we're having a family meeting tomorrow evening, and your parents should come if they want to meet other families who are concerned about what's happening." 

We sent them off and parted ways. Arriving home, right across the street from the 40 Precinct, I felt a mixture of anger, sadness, frustration, and hope. I was angry that starting from such a young age, children in our neighborhood - and in communities of color across the city - are subject to police harassment, intimidation, and sometimes brutality. I was sad that these rookie officers - who could have used this moment to start building friendly relationships with youth - are instead being directed to treat every young person like a criminal. I was frustrated that these policing strategies do absolutely nothing to stop the violence that resulted in the shooting of 4-year old Lloyd Morgan on Sunday night. Instead they alienate young people, and drive a wedge between the community and the police that makes it harder for us to come together and partner on real strategies to stop the violence.

Yet I also felt hope from witnessing Abdul Malik's boldness, demonstrating there are community members who are not afraid to hold the police accountable. I felt hope watching my wife talk to the girls as they played with the puppies, showing them there are adults in the community who care about them. And I felt hope thinking about tomorrow's Justice 4 Families meeting at CCFY, where the parents of youth impacted by the juvenile justice system come together to build community and discuss ways we can work together to keep our children out of jail. 

In the wake of the Lloyd Morgan shooting, several Bronx politicians are now voicing their support for Stop & Frisk policing. But the numbers show that the police recover guns in 1 out of 3,000 stops, which is one third of one percent (0.03%). This strategy that is supposed to keep us safe more often results in incidents like this evening, that result in innocent young people feeling humiliated, insulted and criminalized. We need to stop the violence on our streets. But this will only happen when the NYPD stops treating entire communities as criminals, and decides to partner with real community leaders like Abdul Malik.