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Professionalizing the Police

Seen in a long historical sweep, the likelihood of an offender being punished has moved from possible through plausible to at times even probable. The dark figure of undetected crime remains obscure—more so the further into the past we go.

To claim that the proportion of crimes committed that are also convicted is increas­ing would be a supposition. But we do know that the percentage of those indicted who are also punished is growing. The early modern state, as we have seen, punished the few criminals in its hands in spectacular ways to trumpet its deterrent message. But as the justice system and the police were able to accomplish their mission more effectively, punishment shifted from sending a message to would-be criminals to dealing with those offenders in its grasp. The state was in a position to affect their behavior—whether merely by incapaci­tating them or perhaps also by reforming them. The more prisoners in the state's hands, the better it could influence overall criminality.

How the justice system upped its game can be gauged by its grow­ing ability to deliver known offenders to their just deserts. Just 10 to 20 percent of accused killers were convicted in fourteenth-century Eng- land.98 More than 40 percent of those tried in seventeenth-century Sussex were acquitted, 30 of them in late seventeenth-century and early eighteenth-century Norfolk and Suffolk. Figures for all of Eng­land from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries were similar.99 Conviction rates in Bavaria in the early nineteenth century hovered between 40 and 50 percent.100 By the nineteenth century in France, they had climbed to 70 percent.101 And modern judiciaries convict even more efficiently. In Japan today, 90 percent of those tried plead guilty, and acquittal rates are miniscule.102 In Europe and the United States, the percentage of prosecutions leading to convictions are uni­formly higher than 80 percent, sometimes significantly so.103

The judiciary became more efficient in prosecuting criminals for reasons explored later in this chapter.

More fundamentally, crime and sanction increasingly aligned from the eighteenth century on. Punishments were moderated, and death sentences grew rare. Juries no longer felt morally compelled to acquit petty criminals who oth­erwise faced the scaffold. In a virtuous circle, the more offenders the state found and prosecuted, the less it had to rely on deterrence in the form of grotesque barbarities. The scissors gradually closed between what the authorities did to the wretches they caught to discourage other would-be criminals and what popular opinion regarded as proportionate sanction.

Even without juries to buffer an insistent prosecution, continen­tal Europe's inquisitorial systems had built-in circuit breakers in the form of pardons and amnesties. They were tripped when crime and sanction seemed out of synch or when the numbers of the indicted simply grew insurmountable. The Theodosian Code mentions thirteen amnesties granted between 332 and 413 CE. The Span­ish Crown's pardons extended even into the American colonies. When Louis XVI left Paris for exile in June 1791, he deplored how the National Assembly had stripped away his prerogative to pardon and commute sentences. His subjects, he lamented, would no lon­ger regard him as their common father.104 Even in republican times, that tradition continues. The French prison population has largely been stable since 1988 thanks in part to a series of mass pardons marking national holidays or presidential inaugurations. Although the timing of their use differed from the Western experience, China had an even more luxuriant tradition of “great acts of mercy” by which entire cohorts of offenders were pardoned on a regular basis— every three years, for example, during the last four decades of Emperor Wu's reign, from 128 BCE on.105 Overall, pardons today are rare, but they remain as a curiously patriarchal remnant of once-feudal relationships. As punishments aligned with offenses, the need waned for royal pardons (followed in republics by their presidential and gubernatorial versions) to take the edge off earlier barbarities.

Perfect legislation, as Beccaria pointed out, eliminated the need for pardons. Clemency should be the task of the legislator, not the sovereign.106 The state could finally enforce just, measured, and—above all—if not likely then at least not implausibly improb­able punishments.

Starting in the nineteenth century, police numbers and budgets marched steadily upward. Figures began being kept in the 1930s, showing that police ranks per capita have multiplied almost every- where.107 Some nations centralized their forces; others left oversight to local entities. Regardless, the police slowly professionalized and bureaucratized. Having begun as volunteers, officers were first sala­ried and then subjected to modern bureaucracy's usual processes of examination, training, discipline, and meritocratic advancement. In the early nineteenth century, the Russian tsar's political police force was staffed by personnel so ill educated that they quite lit­erally could not understand the regime opponents they interro- gated.108 That had to change.

Maintaining order, providing evidence to prosecute offenses, and preventing crime were, in that order, largely what police did. The medieval hue and cry did rouse citizens in immediate pursuit of an offender, but grappling with criminals in flagrante diminished as part of police work. Today, only about a tenth of radio calls to patrol cars raise even the possibility of law enforcement in the narrow sense—stopping a burglary, catching a prowler, making an arrest, or investigating something suspicious.109 In New York, even in poor neighborhoods in the high-crime 1980s, 40 percent of patrol offi­cers made not a single felony arrest per year, and 69 percent made no more than three. In London, an officer might encounter a bur­glary in progress once every eight years. Direct crime work took up as little as 3 percent of patrol officers' working hours.110

In the twentieth century, the French police boasted an ability to find their culprit anywhere in the nation within twenty-four hours.

Such powers developed only slowly. Continental police could inspect and arrest. In 1666, the officers of the Chatelet, the most important police headquarters in Paris, were given the right to enter homes and other buildings. Bearing arms was also concen­trated largely in their hands, though not wholly—thanks to resistant nobles.111 In the Anglo-Saxon nations, police had few powers beyond those of civilians. In seventeenth-century Sussex, the old hue and cry, obliging all citizens to help corral offenders, gave way to the need for written warrants, sworn before a justice of the peace and issued to a constable. This requirement made rounding up more of a duty for officials. In the eighteenth century, constables began making arrests and bringing offenders to court and jail. They also searched for the accused and at times for stolen property. Nonetheless, bring­ing offenders to justice still remained the task of victims.112

Robert Peel founded the London police in 1829. He wanted his bobbies regarded as but members of the public who were paid to give full-time attention to duties that were in fact incumbent on all citizens.113 In colonial America, attacks on constables and sheriffs were frequent, and they lacked any effective power to arrest sus­pects who resisted. In mid-nineteenth-century New York, officers who misused firearms (killing a fleeing suspect, for example) were arrested by their colleagues like any civilian. Citizens had much the same powers of arrest as any official.114 Both New York and Lon­don officers could be sued in ordinary courts for false arrest. In the United States, officers and citizens alike could arrest for misde­meanors committed in their presence. Both could arrest for felonies they had witnessed and for those they had probable cause to believe had occurred. But if the felony turned out not to have taken place, the civilian, but not the officer, was considered to have committed an offense.

Some US states also permitted shopkeepers, hoteliers, restauranteurs, and the like to arrest and detain suspects until the police arrived.115

In many US states today, ordinary citizens may still arrest for misdemeanors committed in their presence and for felonies they have probable cause to believe have occurred.116 Indeed, in certain respects, citizens retain greater powers over each other than do the police. Authorities are bound by due-process restrictions on search­ing and seizing evidence without warrants; citizens performing arrests are not.117 Even today in Britain, policing is theoretically a private matter, with the officer in principle but a uniformed citi­zen. In the mid-1980s, almost a quarter of criminal court cases were prosecutions by nonpolice agencies, such as local authorities or the Royal Society for the Protection of Cruelty to Animals, as well as by individuals.118 Citizens also retain powers to use proportional force, though not to detain, by relying on the doctrines of self-defense, defense of others, and defense of property. The right of self-defense remains since even modern police cannot always be everywhere. Even today, citizens must take responsibility for their own safety.119 Ultimately, the modern state relies on a vestige of vigilantism.

And yet police were granted significant powers from the start. Constables in the late seventeenth century could arrest and imprison, break into houses, and disperse unruly crowds. Eighteenth-century London watchmen freely stopped odd people at night: a man selling cheese in the street at 3:00 a.m., for example, or carrying a sack of coal in the wee hours. Night watchmen looked out for suspicious people and arrested prostitutes and vagrants. Police in eighteenth­century Paris checked pedestrians at night and interrogated irreg­ular characters, especially if they carried packages of potentially stolen goods.120 German cities were well policed within their walls, and it was the suburbs where delinquency flourished as authority petered out.121

Over time, such powers were enhanced.

The Anglo-Saxon com­mon law gave police but few powers of arrest beyond those of every citizen. True, only police could execute arrest warrants, but most arrests were made without one. Yet only police could execute search warrants and sometimes search without one. And they could com­mand bystanders. English civilians could arrest without a warrant for serious crimes such as murder. Constables, however, could arrest on suspicion alone. For minor offenses (being drunk and disorderly, for example), they needed no warrant.122 Such powers expanded in the nineteenth century. The Metropolitan Police Act of 1829 empowered London bobbies to apprehend loose, idle, and disor­derly persons whom they merely suspected of evil designs. Their New York colleagues could arrest those seemingly intent on a felony and their powers to search citizens for stolen goods were modeled on the London statutes. The portmanteau concept of disorderly conduct gave police on both sides of the Atlantic broad discretion. Being tasked to regulate traffic also gave London police expansive powers to disperse crowds and to keep thoroughfares open.123

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Source: Baldwin Peter. Command And Persuade: Crime, Law, And The State Across History. MIT Press,2021. — 475 p.. 2021
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